Riposte (Purgatory Wars Book 2)

by Cobolt, Dragon

  “It can't be worse than that basilisk venom,” Liam said, quietly.

  “Oh, liked that, did you?” she asked. “The idiots didn't even ask – just drank the whole thing when I said it was a potion of stamina.” She clucked her tongue.

  “I guess it must be easy to poison people when you can control the fuckers,” Liam muttered.

  Bryn's brow furrowed. “Huh?”

  “We retrieved the control collar,” Liam said.

  Bryn's brow furrowed further. She looked, for just a moment, completely lost. Then she smiled and nodded. “Ah, right. Of course.”

  Huh, Liam thought, Well, that's just fucking great. This is totally the best time to learn that there is a completely different mysterious person who wants me dead.

  Bryn's hand grabbed his cheeks, forcing his lips open. She deftly tilted the vial forward. The liquid dripped along Liam's tongue and coated his throat, flowing into his body as if it wanted to be drunk. He squirmed and thrashed, then coughed as Bryn drew her hand back, tossing the vial aside carelessly. It tinked quietly into the corner of the room as Bryn raised one leg and rested her bare foot near Liam's crotch. He coughed, then licked his lips.

  “What was that?” he asked. “Some truth serum?”

  “Not quite,” Bryn purred.

  Liam gasped. A sudden, blazing point of light was starting to flare in his belly. It slowly suffused his whole body, smoothly slipping into his muscles, tingling through his bones. His skin quivered with goosebumps and his vision started to be tinted in a hazy pink shroud. His mouth opened and he realized he was hard. Fuck, he was practically steel – his cock strained against his belly, pre-come gleaming on the tip. He bucked his hips, gasping raggedly as he felt the collar tightening around his throat. The pressure was almost enough to get him off then and there – but frustratingly, no matter how much he bucked his hips, he couldn't get enough friction. He strained, trying to get his wrists free.

  He...

  He needed...

  “Oh, honey,” Bryn murmured, her voice the sweetest sound that Liam had ever heard. “You need release bad, don't you?”

  “What... did... you do to me?” Liam managed to get the words out around inarticulate grunts. Bryn's finger touched his throat and Liam gasped, trembling. Her finger caressed his skin – a single, gentle point of contact that made every nerve he had sing. He quivered and his cock twitched and he still didn't cum.

  “I gave you an extract of pure Lillin,” she said, quietly. “Their juices drive any male wild. It's part of why your cult banished them here.” She turned away, casually undoing the straps on her feathered cloak. Bryn brushed her hands along her shoulders and her robes hit the ground, revealing that underneath she wore that skin-hugging leather shirt, and a thong that dipped between two athletic cheeks. Though, either because of a blessing or because of extended use, she retained a hint of bird-qualities.

  For instance, a tuft of feathers spread above her ass like a half-skirt.

  Liam wanted to grab those feathers, shove them up and plunge into her.

  He wanted to take her. His mind could barely remember time he didn't desperately want to fuck this Aesir spy.

  Bryn took her time slipping her thong off. She ducked forward, her tail tuft flipping up to show him the curve of her rump as she slithered the thong forward, exposing her sex. Unlike everyone else Liam seemed to have met on Purgatory, she had actual pubic hair. It snarled around her pussy lips, hiding and accenting her femininity. Liam panted, his mind filled with the mental image of closing his lips around those lips. Sucking. Dragging. Licking.

  Bryn turned and tossed her thong at him with a cruel flick of her finger. It slapped against Liam's face and he whimpered, his nose flaring as he breathed in her musky scent. She stepped over, then pressed her chest against his face, mashing her leather-clad breasts and the thong both against Liam, smearing him with her juices. Liam could barely breathe, his eyes going unfocused as he panted quietly.

  “What is the access code?” she murmured.

  Liam whined quietly, bucking his hips.

  “Tell me and I'll give you a treat,” Bryn purred.

  Liam gritted his teeth, a memory surfacing around the roil of desperate lust. Time. Need. Time.

  He shook his head, gasping. “Nev...” He trailed off as Bryn closed her hand around his shaft. Her thumb gently slicked over the tip of his cock, rubbing against his sensitive cockhead. Her hand stroked up and down his member, just roughly enough to give him the release he needed. But just before he came, her hand slipped down and closed tightly around the base of his cock. Liam gasped, his body trembling. An ache spread through his balls as he felt his pleasure denied.

  “The code,” Bryn said, her voice almost a snarl.

  “N-no!” Liam grunted, his eyes closed, tilting his head forward. The collar tightened around his throat and he felt the pleasure boiling in his balls. It was so close to pain.

  Bryn leaned forward, her voice warm and wet in his ear. “Tell me, and mistress will ride your pathetic little cock. Do you want that?”

  Liam whined again. He nodded, unable to form words.

  “You want to stick this dick into my pussy?” Bryn chuckled. “Good. All you need to do is tell me the code.”

  Liam bit his lip, hard, and tried to look conflicted. Then, desperately, he gasped out: “Y-You push the numerals nine nine two nine three nine five!”

  Bryn chortled. “Was that so hard?”

  She let go of his cock, turning around and starting towards the door. Liam watched her go – an agony of lust surging through him. He couldn't even remember the mission now, but he knew that he needed her. He needed her so badly.

  “But-”

  “I lied, you pain obsessed freak,” Bryn said, her voice casually cruel. “That toxin will burn out your soul if untreated – seems like a fair punishment to me.” She shook her head. “Enjoy the torment.”

  Then she slipped away.

  Liam panted, his nerves buzzing. He closed his eyes, and did the only thing he could think of. He prayed. Not to Sobek or Anubis – but he prayed.

  “Hey?”

  Liam opened his eyes and almost melted with relief.

  A slender figure stood in the door. Short, mousy haired. Wearing rags.

  Aithene smiled at him. “Do you need privacy, Mr. Vanderbilt?”

  ***

  “I, uh, just so you know,” Tethis said, her ears flicking back, “Liam's cured. You don't actually-”

  “Shut the fuck up, Tethis,” Meg said, gasping around the words as her hips rose and fell as Liam fucked her with a desperate need he hadn't felt in months. Not that his lust for Meg had dimmed – anything but. But it was hard to reach the same level of critical need that came from the first time. His hands cupped and squeezed her ass as Meg cried out, wings spreading wide. Liam let himself release, shuddering as he burst inside of his lover.

  Meg panted, ducking her head forward. She kissed Liam's cheek, his neck, his lips. Softly, she whispered. “Let's, ah, not fight a spy next time. All this sneaking around gives me hives.”

  “Hey, it was fun while she was femdomming me,” Liam said, casually. “It was the dying part that I didn't like.”

  The door to the small chamber – a room set aside, normally, for scribes to rest in between their duty shifts - opened and Neb stopped short. Her nose flared and she breathed in the musk filling the chamber, shivering all over. Liv grabbed her shoulder, dragging her fully into the room before kicking the door shut.

  “Don't get distracted, Maatre,” Liv said.

  “R-Right,” Neb said, gulping. She looked at Liam and Meg – the valkyrie still splayed across Liam's chest, letting her breasts mash against him. Meg kissed at his neck gently every few seconds, her hands caressing his head. Neb, for a moment, looked profoundly jealous. Liam bit his lip, unsure of how to respond to that look. But before he could even make the attempt, Neb continued: “I've arranged a meeting with the magistrates. T-They are not going to be happy if thi
s doesn't work. But there's an added wrinkle.”

  “Hm?” Meg asked, voice muffled.

  “Well,” Neb said. “Brigid is going to, uh, be there.”

  Liam sat up, Meg clinging to him as he did so. “Brigid? The goddess?”

  Neb nodded. “She's become interested in the fate of this iPod the more she learns about it. That's what the magistrate said, at least.” She rubbed her paw along her neck, her tail sweeping from side to side. “She's, uh, a goddess, but she's also a bit more reserved, so...”

  “So, I need to take a bath, don't I?” Liam asked. He paused. “Can you still smell yourself on me?”

  Neb's muzzle turned so red that it was visible through her black fur. She nodded, mutely.

  Liam glanced at Meg.

  Meg arched an eyebrow and with the growing telepathy of people who were in love, Liam could read her just fine.

  Well, I always wanted a pet.

  “Why don't you show us to the baths, then, Neb?” Liam asked.

  Neb nodded again, still blushing.

  “Then join us,” Meg said with a predator's grin.

  Neb looked as if she would faint.

  * * *

  This time, the magistrate's chambers were filled. Not merely with the magistrates, but with curious onlookers, guards to keep the curious onlookers back, servants of various types, and several priestesses of Brigid. And, of course, seated behind the magistrates on something that Liam had thought was a forgotten architectural feature before but was now clearly an obscenely tall and large throne, was the goddess herself. Like Sobek, looking at her made it clear she was a goddess. Unlike Sobek, the exact thing that made her a goddess was harder to pin down.

  She was, in all appearances, an utterly normal girl. She had a cute – but not gorgeous – face with a button nose, a thin spread of freckles, and short cropped hair that looked like it had been dyed black, giving her a slightly halo'd look. Her hair was curly and suited her bookish appearance. She even had a much creased book in her lap, stroking it as if it was a cat. Her clothes were similarly unostentatious – robes that were only slightly more decorated than her scribes.

  But still, she exuded power. It radiated off of her and did more than the tall throne to make her seem like a giant. Sobek had always seemed to fill rooms, but Brigid actually seemed to be nearly twelve feet tall. Liam wasn't sure if that was a trick of the light, perspective, or... well... reality.

  “Have it be known,” the magistrate said. “That we are reconvened to hear new testimony and new evidence submitted against Bryn of Odin.”

  Bryn didn't look nearly so smug as last time. She was, instead, looking fairly cross. She glared at Liam – and Liam smiled at her, wiggling his fingers gently.

  Neb, though, looked like she was about to faint again. She stood with a slightly bow-legged stance and held a collection of parchments in her paws, looking down at them, then up at the magistrates again. Liam squeezed her shoulder, leaning forward. “You'll do fine,” he whispered. “I order you too.”

  Neb smiled at him shyly, her ears perking up.

  “Present your evidence,” the magistrate said.

  Neb stepped up. “Greetings,” she said. “I am Neb Maatre, representative of Anubis. Uh, this court knows me.” The magistrates all nodded – though, Liam noticed, they did so with a kind of amused air, as if they were used to Neb's shyness. The jackalgirl scribe coughed and shuffled the papers, then continued, “And I have evidence, retrieved from Bryn's chambers, that show that she is, uh...” She stepped up, holding the papers out. “She is not Bryn of Odin at all.”

  Murmurs of shock came from the onlookers, and Bryn's eyes widened

  Neb – getting more confident as the magistrates started poring through the paperwork – turned and pointed her paw at Bryn.

  “She is a Hellene from Sparta – an agent of the War God Aries, sent on a mission to sow discord and strife between Pesdjeti and Tuatha pantheons. She never wanted the iPod for Odin's library. She came to destroy what it contained after getting the information for herself, then blame the theft and destruction on Brigid – it's clearly outlined in her orders! And what is more,” Neb said, reaching into her belt pouch, and tossing a sack of coins dramatically to the floor, “She has been financing criminals with Athenian gold – paid to Sparta after the Second War of the Dreaming Straits.”

  “This is remarkably damning testimony,” the magistrate said, her voice grim. “If we search your chambers, Bryn of Odin, will sympathetic magic reveal that this paper did, in fact, come from there?”

  “Magistrates,” Bryn said, her voice tightly controlled. “Such magic can be, ah, misled by cunning-”

  “Not when it is cast by me,” Brigid said. She didn't have the casual, human tones of Sobek. Instead, her voice rang like a gong and sounded as deep as infinity. Liam looked from her to Bryn. He saw Bryn thinking quickly. Then he saw a light flick on in the woman's eyes.

  A light he had seen before.

  In Liv's.

  Liam started running.

  “Fuck it,” Bryn snarled and flicked her wrist. The knife flew unerringly towards a shocked Brigid's throat. Then it slammed into Liam's palm. He stood there, looking at the knife tip emerging from between his knuckles, at the bright red blood dripping along his wrist, pattering onto the ground. The entire chamber plunged into complete silence, everyone standing in shock. Liam stood there and didn't actually feel a single bit of pain.

  At first.

  Then screams came from the crowd. Guards were falling to the ground. Men and women who had been standing in the crowd were yanking daggers from the guard's backs. Bryn was shouting orders to them as the surviving guards rushed to try and protect Brigid – who herself was standing and starting to shroud herself with a crackling flames.

  Trust a goddess of learning and knowledge to be squishy, Liam thought around the sudden haze of pain.

  Three of the men that Bryn had snuck into the library – their daggers glittering in their hands – rushed forward.

  “Liam!”

  Aithene's voice came from the crowd. Liam looked and saw the slender pickpocket holding a wrapped parcel that was almost as tall as she was. Liam felt his heart sing.

  She had done her part of the plan perfectly.

  Aithene threw the parcel, the cloth unwrapping as it flew and spun in the air. Liam held out his unharmed hand and managed to grab his longsword's hilt before it hit the ground. Adrenaline pulsed through his body as he swung Delenn around in a curving arc, smashing the blade into one of the knife men's chests. The attack had no finesse, but with his full strength behind the blow, it sent the man sprawling, cut down to the ribs. The other two were tackled by a rush of wings and feathers.

  Then, thank god, Tethis was at his side. She yanked the knife free, slapping her palm against Liam's. A glow surrounded his hand and she said: “It'll stop it from getting worse and deaden the pain, but-”

  “Got it!” Liam grabbed Delenn with both hands and looked around himself, trying to get a sense for the utter pandemonium of the chamber. The surviving guards were locked in desperate battle with the criminals that Bryn had hired, while the assassin had started for the edge of the room, trying to find her own escape. Seeing Liam holding his sword, Bryn froze – then grabbed at her necklace. The hammer symbol snapped in half in her hands, and three small chunks of white bone dumped into her palm. She tossed them out and they skittered onto the floor.

  “Dragon's teeth!” Liv shouted in warning.

  The bone chunks grew – grotesque lumps of muscle bulging from the white, expanding outwards as if it was a water balloon being filled with a hose. The torsos grew first – hideously over-muscled, with broad shoulders and tiny, squinting heads. Then their legs – starting off far too small to hold them up, then expanding outwards until three men stood before Liam. Each one was nude, gray-skinned, and holding brutal looking bronze cleaver – Liam would only call it a sword under duress.

  “Spartoi,” Liv said, her voice tight as she c
ame to Liam's side, her blade in her hands.

  “Fucking great,” Liam muttered.

  Bryn pointed. “Kill her!”

  The Spartoi turned and ran straight towards the battle line of guards and criminals. They struck it like a wrecking ball hitting an anthill. Men and women went flying, as the Spartoi hacked at them with casual, sweeping gestures and their blades managed to hew limb from limb using brute strength and size rather than sharpness.

  Brigid stepped backwards, spreading her hands wide. Flames surged forward, but the Spartoi surged through the fire without stopping.

  “Oi!”

  The shout didn't draw their attention.

  But Liam, smashing the pommel of his sword into one of their temples, did. The huge, artificial soldier staggered into his fellow warrior and that warrior bumped against the other and all three fell to the ground. Liam got his feet under him again, standing between Brigid and the warriors as they picked themselves up. They shook themselves, then advanced, cleavers in the air.

  A javelin sprouted from one of their eye-sockets.

  The Spartoi kept advancing.

  Liam gulped, and ducked away from a sword blow. The cleaver struck the stone floor and shattered chunks of white marble into the air. Liam swung at the man's wrist, cutting to the bone. No blood flowed and the man jerked his cleaver free. More javelins were appearing in their backs – flying so fast that Liam couldn't see the weapons being flung from Meg's hands to the Spartoi's bodies.

  It didn't slow them down. He parried one stroke and felt his arms going numb, Delenn groaning and ringing. He dodged and another one of the Spartoi swung at him. He stepped backwards, but the cleaver smashed into his longsword, pinning it against the wall. With a hideous clang, Liam's sword snapped in half.

  The fact that the Spartoi's weapon bent visibly didn't help at all.

  Liam held his hilt, looking at his sword, feeling cold.

  One of the Spartoi – his back looking like a forest now – tottered, then smashed into the ground, finally overcome by the number of javelins that had plunged into him. The remaining two advanced towards Liam, their cleavers held over their heads. Liam roared, then dove forward.