movement. As soon as I spotted you, I put myself in your path."
"I see. So, what would have been the best response, remain where I was?"
"At night, yes. Many beings can see your heat aura. The tree made good cover, though a thicket or clump of bushes would have been better. Still, I would have had to search for you to see you. As long as you were able to keep the tree between the two of us, I would have given up eventually and gone off to search elsewhere. During the day, however, your best tactic would be to approach the noise."
That surprised her. "Why?"
"The layer of the trap would no longer be there, and that would be the last place he would expect you to go."
She smiled and nodded. "Good point."
"Even so, you did do well. I only initiated the trap because I could not find you otherwise."
She felt proud, but in a teasing tone she said, "Then there's hope for me yet?" She sported a lopsided smirk.
He returned a toothy leer. "You may just survive to run the Caerleon Order after all."
She chuckled, but chocked it off when she saw five shadows detach themselves from the surrounding gloom.
"Vlad?" The shadows loomed closer and pairs of points of red light blazed.
"Vlad!"
The Vampire whirled about, his arms outstretched, ready for combat. He scanned the shadows as they advanced.
"Run, Master! Head for the house!" He threw himself at them and they converged on him.
She hesitated a moment, then turned and ran for the nearest section of cart path. Fear gave her feet wings, but she didn't careen blindly. She had matured quite a lot in the past year, and threats no longer terrified her, but she knew she wasn't yet capable of defending herself, and the thought of being killed scared her silly. She just had the presence of mind to imagine where would be the safest place to run to.
Another shadow appeared in front of her and she stopped short, feeling relieved. Vlad must have defeated the others and caught up with her.
"Why in such a hurry, my delectable one?" spoke a grating, cackling voice.
Shocked, she snapped the torch beam up to illuminate the speaker. It was hideous: a crone with a haggish face, including sickly greenish skin, pointed nose and chin, sunken cheekbones, and a huge mole; long, matted and tangled jet-black hair; a grinning mouth displaying needle-sharp teeth; and hands with long, spindly fingers terminating in iron claws. The rest of it was black and featureless, as if it was wearing a cloak or robe.
The hag hissed and lunged at her. She jumped back and threw the torch at its face. It raised its arms and batted the torch off to the side, but that delay gave her the change to summon Caliburn. The hag shrieked and flew at her again, and she swung the greatsword in a wide arc in front of her. Despite her fencing lessons and the fact that Caliburn was as light as her saber, she still wasn't used to its unwieldy size. Even so, the point sliced through the hag's belly as it descended on her. It screamed and doubled over, and she raised the sword to deliver the coup de grace.
The hag reared up; surprised, she realized it wasn't as hurt as it pretended. She tried to evade, but it was too close. It seized her by the throat and caught her sword hand by the wrist. Twisting it, it forced her to drop the sword, and then the landscape sped past her vision as if she was flying. Panic seized her as she realized the hag was spiriting her away, and she was powerless to stop it!
When the scenery stabilized, she found herself on the patio in her garden, just in front of the fountain. The hag flew up the steps onto the terrace and through the portico, startling the guards on duty. With its free hand it eviscerated those in its path while the rest hesitated to fire when they saw her in its clutches. It smashed through the double glass doors into the great hall as she heard a guard behind her say into his handheld radio, "Intruder alert! Director hostage!"
The hag flew out the room, across the gallery hall, and through the entry and servants' halls before moving up the corridor into the kitchen. The room was deserted, being the off hours between supper and breakfast. It snatched up a large carving knife before slamming her down onto her back on the table in the center of the room, and it drove the knife point into the wood to stand upright.
"And now, my pretty, can you guess your fate?" Its cackling voice came with a gust of foul breath. Using the claws of its free hand, it ripped her blouse and training bra, and tore them from her body.
"My sisters and I have suffered from the deprivations of your families for centuries." It removed and discarded her slippers.
"In you we see our chance for revenge." It ripped open and tore off her shorts.
"We devised a plan, in which my sisters would engage your servant while I stole you away to our lair." It pulled off her underwear, sniffed at it, then threw it aside.
"There we would slaughter and devour you!" It pulled the ribbon out of her hair.
"With your death, your families will be erased, your servant released, and your hated Order left in ruins." It removed and crushed her glasses, throwing everything she could see out of focus.
"Think of that; everything you hold dear, that threatens us, utterly destroyed!" It gripped the handle of the knife and yanked it from the table.
"But I thought, why should I share you with them, when I can have you all to myself?" It lowered the point until it was just pressing into her stomach.
"Think of that; to be devoured in your own kitchen." It let go with a cackling, maniacal laugh as it pressed the point down harder. It all happened so fast she had had no time to think, but as the hag finished its boasting hysteria flooded her mind and she made ready to scream in sheer terror. Her worst nightmare was about to become hideous reality!
From "Do Unto Others..."
When Jack the Ripper arrived in the future, his first impression was that he was in Paradise.
Somehow, while executing his latest and thus far greatest masterpiece on the unfortunate Mary Kelly, he had inadvertently and rather foolishly left behind a clue to his identity. For the life of him, he could not imagine what it could have been, but it had been enough. The authorities narrowly missed him at both his surgery and his home, but they caught up with him at the house of George Wells, where he was having dinner along with a half-dozen more of their close friends.
Fortunately, before they sat down to eat, George had shown them the plans for his "time conveyor", which he claimed he had built in his basement and which he would show them after they dined. As such, when the Metropolitan Police arrived to arrest him, he snuck away to find it. It was an act of sheer desperation. Knowing George as he did, he was certain the thing did exist, but there was no guarantee it would actually work. He was, therefore, greatly surprised when it did!
It had been his intention to go only a short distance backwards in time--say a year or two--and then catch a boat for America to start anew. However, he went too far, and when the strange glowing silver fog that had surrounded him during his journey cleared, he found himself deep inside a thick forest. It was then that the full potential of the machine hit him. He need no longer fear capture. He could go to any time, infiltrate the local society, and kill with impunity. And if it looked as if he would be found out, or if he simply became bored, he could move to a new time and begin again. He thrilled at the thought of the hundreds of people who lay at his mercy across thousands of years, and he need only choose when to go to get started.
He finally decided to travel a short distance ahead of his own time, so that he would not be too disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. Unfortunately, he threw the navigating lever too far forward and it jammed, much to his consternation. By the time he freed it and stopped the machine, he had gone a thousand years too far. He found himself in the middle of a park filled with people, and he noticed two things immediately. The first was that most ignored him, and those few who did not only gazed at him for a few moments, a look of serene (almost bored) indifference on their collective faces, before going about their business. The second was that they were absolutely naked, withou
t even jewelry to adorn them.
Intrigued, he elected to stay and explore that strange new world. He quickly discovered that, despite their initial disinterest, the people of that time were very friendly. When he stepped out of the machine, they collected around him curiously, and greeted him warmly. They ignored the machine but seemed fascinated by his clothes, and his age. Small wonder, since while he was close to fifty, the men and women of that time all looked to be in their early to mid-twenties. More than that, they were all, in a word, perfect: the men were in the image of Adonis, whereas the women would have shamed Aphrodite. They were without fault or blemish in appearance or manner, and though they wore no adornment, they nonetheless were gaudily decorated: they painted their bodies in vivid colors and bold designs; those who wore hair had dyed it everywhere (not just on their heads) to match the patterns on their bodies; and their eyes displayed every conceivable hue of the spectrum.
His questions were eagerly answered. As it turned out, it wasn't just clothes or jewelry the people did without; they had no possessions of any kind, and no money to buy them even if they existed. The "Dwellings" provided all their needs, which were very simple. Curious, he asked to see one. A woman--statuesque, soft, and demure, painted in
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