by Alan Scott
“Simplicity is next to godliness, your Majesty,” confirmed Confessor Vember.
Amanda walked to a table and looked at herself in an ornate hand mirror that was sitting upon the table. She saw her long raven hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her beautiful pale face to perfection. “I am truly cursed,” Amanda said, sadly.
“Your Majesty?”
“I only wish to serve my Lord God. Why did He curse me to look as I do?”
“We all have our burdens to bear, your Majesty. As I have told you before, yours is your beauty.”
“No one takes me seriously, Vember. They just look at my face or my figure and try to bed me.”
“They will take you seriously now, your Majesty.”
“Yes, they shall,” Amanda turned and walked away from the mirror, “for I am now Queen, and the people will listen and respect me for who I am rather than my cursed looks.”
There was a knock at the door. “Ah, and talking about listening to me – enter!” said Amanda.
In walked a rather red-faced man, who was showing obvious signs of exertion. His clothes had spots of blood dotted over them. “Your Majesty,” he said.
“Have you dealt with the whore wife of yours?”
“Yes, your Majesty. I took my belt to her.”
“Does she still live?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Excellent, I know the very place to put her. I have another whore who might enjoy the company.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Rebecca was too lenient, too soft a queen, that is why this kingdom is in the rut it is. I will not make that mistake. I will not be lenient nor suffer whores, degenerates, or deviants within my borders. This kingdom shall be run by our Lord God’s rules and be better for it. Our new motto shall be – ‘Be pure. Be vigilant. Behave.’”
“A motto that shall surely only improve people’s lives,” added Confessor Vember.
“As you command, my Queen,” the blood-splattered man added nervously.
Queen Amanda Rothgal–Ackroyd walked to the window and looked out. “All of this is mine and, via me, my God’s. I shall make it worthy of him. This I swear.” Amanda bowed her head and closed her eyes, before repeating, “This I swear upon my life.”
***
A cell within the dungeons below the palace
“At least I have a nice cell,” said Rebecca as she paced the room.
“There does seem to be a lack of rats or dripping water,” agreed Caldecote, looking from outside the cell through the small barred window in the cell door.
“There is a table and chair, and what looks like an almost comfortable mattress.”
“A VIP cell, you could say.”
“Almost fit for a queen.” Rebecca stopped walking and fought against the threatening tears.
“As you say, your Majesty.”
“I am no longer your Majesty. I am simply Rebecca now.”
“As you say, your Majesty.”
“Men! Always bloody stubborn. I am no longer your Queen!”
“As you say, your Majesty.”
Rebecca shook her head and moved to sit down at the table.
“We will be here for you,” stated Caldecote.
“Thank you,” replied Rebecca, sadly.
“We will make sure you are fed and looked after properly.”
“Thank you.”
“Right, just shout if you need anything. Me and Cyril will be sitting just here outside the door.”
“Thank you.”
Placing her elbows on the table, Rebecca held her head in her hands and let the tears fall.
It was two hours later when the sound of the door opening caused Rebecca to raise her head. Two guards dragging a third person entered the cell. “Company for you,” stated one of the guards as they flung the prisoner upon the floor. The pair turned and left the cell without another word, slamming the door behind them.
Rebecca looked down at the curled up figure on the floor, hidden behind a long cloak.
“Who is it?” asked Caldecote through the bars set in the door.
“I don’t know.” A low moan came from the cloak.
Casting a quizzical glance at Caldecote, Rebecca moved gradually towards the figure. Tentatively, she reached out and pulled back the cloak. “Prue!” she gasped as she recognised the woman, despite her badly bruised face.
“Hello, Rebecca,” Prue Carnagie managed before a coughing fit overtook her.
“Bloody hell, Prue! What happened to you?” asked Rebecca as she helped the woman up.
“My husband.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes.” Prue coughed again as she clung, half standing, to Rebecca. “He discovered my little indiscretions.”
“Come on, Prue, get on the mattress.” Rebecca half-helped, half-dragged Prue to the mattress.
“Thank you, Becca.”
“Lie still. I will be back in a moment.” Rebecca raced to the door. “Caldecote!”
“Yes.”
“Get me some hot water and clean towels, and a clean set of lady’s clothing.”
“Sorry, your Majesty - did you say lady’s clothing?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.”
“Will that be a problem?”
Caldecote scratched his chin. “Probably not, as I have always had my doubts about Cyril.” Turning away from the small barred window, Caldecote shouted, “Cyril! Cyril!”
“What?”
“I need you to go and get some hot water, clean towels, and a clean set of lady’s clothing.”
“Ok.”
Caldecote turned back to Rebecca. “My best man is on the case, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” replied Rebecca with a smile, before making her way back to Prue. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better, Becca.”
Rebecca took a small intake of breath, forced a smile on her face, and tried to ignore the informal use of her name. “I am sure you have. Now let me have a proper look at you.” Rebecca pulled back the cloak and examined Prue. Her face was puffy, both eyes were black, her lips were split, and her wonderful cheeks were cut.
“He was wearing his heavy rings when he hit me,” explained Prue.
“No one deserves this.”
“I was screwing everything in trousers behind his back for years.”
“Still...”
“I hurt his pride.”
“So he hurt your face and body.”
“Yes.”
Running her eyes down the rest of Prue’s body, Rebecca noticed the blood on the blouse and skirt. Picking up Prue’s arm, Rebecca winced at the cuts along the forearm.
“His belt buckle - after he got bored of punching me, he whipped me with his belt. The belt buckle hurt when it hit.”
“He should have stopped.”
“Yes, he should have.” Tears finally appeared in Prue’s eyes. “I did not deserve this.” Prue’s voice wobbled with emotion as her tears flowed freely. “I did not deserve this.”
“No, you did not. No one does.”
***
“Caldecote!” shouted Cyril as he returned to Rebecca’s cell.
“Cyril, what have you got there?”
“Fiona - she is a maid.”
“Hello, Fiona.”
“Hello, sir.”
“Did you get everything, Cyril?”
“Yup. Hot water is in the bucket here. Fiona has got clean towels and clothes in her basket.”
“Excellent,” commented Caldecote. “Right, where is that bloody jailor?”
***
Hearing raised voices outside the door, Rebecca lightly squeezed Prue’s shoulder. “You will feel better soon, Prue.”
“Promise?” Prue’s voice sounded weak and scared.
“Promise.”
The cell door creaked open and in walked a young woman carrying a basket and a bucket of steaming water. “I am Fiona, my ladies, and I have the things you requested.”
“Please bring them here, Fiona,” said Rebecca, “and help me with my friend.”
The cell door slammed shut.
***
Cyril turned to Caldecote. “She looks in a bad way.”
“Yeah, her husband beat her black and blue.”
“She did play the field. What did she expect?” Cyril shrugged his shoulders.
“Aye, and if the reports are correct, she used to drug him, too.”
“I heard that. Used to send him asleep whilst she shagged around.”
“I heard that at one banquet she fucked Alex Rothgal in her own bed whilst her husband was laid out on the bedroom floor in a drugged state.” Caldecote spat on the floor.
“That’s bad shite.”
“Yeah, I think she got off pretty lightly.”
“Yeah,” agreed Cyril. “I would have taken my knife to her. She would not have been pretty anymore.”
Caldecote stared at the cell door with hard eyes. “You have a soft heart, though, Cyril. I would have killed her.”
***
The Queen’s royal apartments
Queen Amanda Rothgal–Ackroyd knelt naked before her bed, deep in prayer, as a cold breeze from the open window brushed against her. “My Lord, I will rule this land in Your name and for Your greater glorification. I will banish the abominations, the unclean, the impure, the mutant, and the deviant from Your lands. I only humbly ask that You give me the strength and determination to do this, for I am merely an instrument of Your divine will.”
***
The guest apartments within the Royal Palace
Tania Stone ran her hand slowly along the guardrail on the balcony. Raising her full wine glass in a toast, she said softly, “Soon, all of this will be mine, and it will be a shrine to debauchery and all the base desires that dwell within the human heart. The Midnight Man cometh and the world shall tremble.” Tania drained her glass and smiled.
However, before that could happen, there was the small matter of the wedding, which would take place within ten days’ time - the wedding between Lady Joanna Harris and Aaron Power, and from this unholy joining, the Midnight Man would return.
She would have to return to the Brethren’s island for the wedding, of course, but she could afford to be away for a few days. Everything was going according to plan.
A cool breeze from the lake brushed over her and caused her nipples to harden, goose bumps to appear, and a shudder to run through her. Placing a hand to her breast, she exclaimed, “Fuck, my nipples are hard. Shame to waste it.” Turning to face the room, she called out, “Plaything, come here! I need your cock now.”
Chapter Nine
The Return of the Midnight Man
One week later
Aaron Power lay on his back watching the narcotic smoke he released from his mouth as it danced and weaved its way into the darkness. The visions dancing before his eyes were at once horrific and nightmarish, whilst at the same time deeply fascinating. He lazily reached out with his left hand, which was feeling unnaturally heavy, to try and touch one of the rotting zombies that was raping a dog.
“He is lost to the dream moss,” stated Gideon Sandhu as he stood ten feet away from the pile of naked bodies in which Aaron lay.
“I wonder what visions he is seeing?” asked Miriam Gregorious as she watched him wave his hand slowly left and right.
“I don’t know...” began Gideon, before screaming interrupted him.
Both vampyres turned to see two naked bodies - a man and a woman - disentangle themselves from the group of bodies around Aaron and run screaming around the room. The man tripped and fell to the ground, and began rolling on the mat-covered floor. He finally ended up on his back, where he started to pull his eyeballs out of their sockets with his fingers as his heels drummed a manic tattoo on the floor. His screams continued unabated. The woman was crouched in a corner and was pulling her long hair out by the roots whilst continuing to scream loudly.
“Ah,” said Miriam, “our drinks are ready.”
Gideon smiled and made his way to the woman, where he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back to where he had been watching the gruesome spectacle. Meanwhile, Miriam strode over to the man and hauled him back to Gideon. Both Night Stalkers ignored their struggling victims as they stood behind them, holding them upright and close. They looked over the shoulders of their prey into each other eyes.
“Let’s see what sort of cocktail we are going to have tonight,” said Gideon as he bit into the woman’s throat and drank deeply of the drug-infused blood.
“Yes, indeed,” replied Miriam as her fangs pierced her prey’s neck and entered his jugular.
Gideon’s eyes widened as the drug-tainted blood entered his system. The mixture of drugs the woman had taken must have been extremely potent, as he could feel himself starting to lose control of his body. Placing his hand on her back, he pushed the woman away and staggered backwards. Back and back he went until he finally crashed into the far wall, where he slid down and sat watching the beautiful kaleidoscope of colours and patterns dance before his eyes.
Miriam Gregorious felt the rush from the cocktail of blood and narcotics wash through her body, and she began to laugh. The laughter turned into hysterical laughter, then to crying, before finally heart-breaking sobs. “What... what have you done to me?” she managed to say to the bloody and moaning man lying before her. Dropping to her knees, Miriam whispered through the tears, “Thank you, oh thank you for this wonderful gift,” before plunging her hand through his chest and ripping out his heart. As she began to eat it, Miriam started to rock back and forth, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
From the shadow-cloaked alcove, Joanna Harris watched everything. “Enjoy your earthly delight, my love, for soon we shall become one, and our Lord, the Midnight Man, shall once again enter this world.” She gave a feral grin as she watched a man and a large-breasted woman begin to kiss and fondle Aaron.
Turning her attention back to Miriam and Gideon, she watched as both of them enjoyed their new and heightened states. “Enjoy your poor delights, you fools,” she murmured, “for I will soon enjoy the sweetest of passions; for soon, I will be with the Midnight Man and I shall knee before His will and experience the extremes of emotion that only He can produce.” Joanna’s eyes went wide with the thought. “The Midnight Man cometh!” she declared with passion. A chuckle escaped her lips a moment later as she watched the man start to deep throat Aaron’s mouth whilst the big-breasted woman moaned in sexual arousal as she rode Aaron’s hard manhood. “Total corruption, my dear, total corruption is required.”
***
“Well, ladies - to us, the chosen ones!” Alicia Saunt raised her glass of special chilled wine.
“To us!” said Tania Stone and Maria Clough as they raised their glasses. The women drank deep of the wine, whilst their three bodyguards stood watch at the door to the room.
“Who would have thought,” began Tania as she plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit on the table and popped it into her mouth, “that the Midnight Man would return in our time and in only two days?”
“I know,” smiled Maria as she took another drink from her glass, “and we three are specially invited to the ceremony.”
“Well, we are now important women,” added Alicia.
“True,” grinned Tania. “Maria is going to be a Dark Herald for none other than Joanna Harris.”
Maria Clough grinned from ear to ear and raised her glass.
“Alicia,” continued Tania, “is going to take control of the day-to-day running of the Red Bank.”
Alicia Saunt raised her glass.
“And I,” shouted out Tania, “will be the ruler of Deep Lake! Oh, yes!” Tania laughed happily, as she, too, raised her glass.
All three drained their glasses.
“Plaything!” called out Tania, “we need more wine!”
The man known as Plaything nodded and moved to carry out his mistress’ wishes.
“I have to commend you,” sai
d Maria, as she blatantly watched the man walk away to get more wine. “Your bodyguard has a great arse.”
“He has a great everything, Maria,” replied Tania. Tania then cast a glance at Maria’s bodyguard. “Yours has seen better days.”
“Do you mean the scars?”
“Yes. They rather spoil his beauty.”
“Oh, I would disagree with you, Tania. I think they rather add to it. He even had some of those scars from his time in the Night Guard,” Maria laughed.
“Though mine is better than both of yours,” Alicia purred as she popped a grape into her mouth. She smiled as the other two women glared at her with barely disguised hate. “Yours may be Night Guards, but mine is a Midnight Guard.” At that moment, Plaything returned with the wine and sat it down on the table before Tania.
“And he is still riding a horse,” muttered Maria.
“Sorry, what was that, Maria?” asked Alicia.
“I said - does he still get to mount a horse? You know - him being in the Calvary and all.”
“Dracko, come here,” said Alicia.
All eyes in the room watched as the towering Dracko walked to his mistress’s side. The man radiated power and darkness. “Now then, Maria, would you like to ask that question of Dracko himself?”
Maria gave a nervous smile as she gazed upon the massive killer. “Well, do you still manage to mount a horse, Dracko?”
“No,” replied Dracko.
“Oh, that’s a pity.”
“More wine, everyone!” called Tania as she lifted the wine bottle that Plaything had brought.