Immortal Divorce Court Volume 2: A Sirius Education

by Kirk Zurosky

  The Thief sat astride my hips, facing away from me, and lay back on my chest, her shimmering hair cascading over me like a silky rain . . . The touch of her skin against my own torn up body awakened a small spark of warmth within me. Encouraged, she rose and sat, straddling me before she stretched out her body toward my legs. I felt first her mouth, then her nipples like droplets of sunlight caress me, and the fire within me began to smolder and burn. Before my eyes, a great gash on my arm started to heal with a flash of golden light. But then it stopped, and the swampy green sickness started oozing from it once more.

  The Thief rubbed me harder and harder with her hands on my legs and inner thighs, finally focusing on my manhood, which glowed irradiant with her efforts. She slid forward in one quick motion, grabbing my ankles and putting me inside her tight hindquarters. Up and down she thrust, hands rubbing my legs as she rode me. Miraculously with every thrust, every stroke, the golden light returned, and the poison ran like a foul chartreuse river from my wounds, and as my climax built to a heart-pounding finish, my wounds healed, leaving only fresh patches of clean pink skin in their place. I exploded inside the Thief, and she turned and looked back at me without any trace of expression on her face, merely staring at me with prismatic eyes that looked like an insect’s not a human’s. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I fell back upon the furs, and mercifully slept deeply once more.

  I do not know if I slept for hours or days, but this time it was a sleep thankfully not haunted by any bad dreams. I once again awoke buried under warm furs in a room that was lit with dozens of candles, and I took comfort in the calming aroma coming from the many bundles of incense surrounding the platform I was on. I felt movement under my right arm and sat up to find Garlic nestled beside me. I picked her up and held her close, hearing her grunt with happiness. Her wounds had healed, and her black eyes reflected the candlelight back at me along with a familiar mischievous glint. I pulled back the furs and examined my wounds and found the freshly healed pink skin from my dream now had a slight green cast to it. The poison was not gone. It was still within me. A slight breeze blew in from the window, and I shuddered, draping the furs around me, desperately trying to shut out the cold that seemed to be boring into my very soul. I felt tears come to my eyes. It was going to be a while before I was strong enough to leave this place. Would I ever see my family and the hallowed halls of Hedley Edrick’s school?

  I felt my stomach rumble, and my insides felt completely empty as if I had not eaten for days—no, weeks! I was also craving meat. Any kind of meat. There was the sound of a gong from outside my chamber, then a maroon-robed monk entered, carrying a great platter. He was favoring his left leg and had a wicked scar that ran the length of his jawline. In his past, this man had lost a battle that he had never recovered from.

  I had never been so drained of energy and life, or for that matter hurt so badly as from what the Rakshas had done to me. This beating was worse than any I had any suffered. I had lost much energy—energy that I desperately needed to replenish. Would I ever truly recover from my battle with the Rakshas?

  The monk put down the platter, which was adorned with the rawest of meats, in front of me. Primal instinct took over, and Garlic and I tore into the feast with a vengeance. The monk jumped back in shock and fell to the floor in a jumbled confusion of crooked legs and robes. Another monk entered our chamber, and his eyes widened as he saw the blood dripping from my mouth and his companion struggling to get to his feet. This new monk was thickly muscled and stood nearly as tall as Oliver and, come to think of it, was nearly just as wide. He too was carrying a platter, but this one was steaming and full of cooked meats and vegetables. Good for a civilized meal, I thought, and meant for me, but not what I wanted. He dropped the platter with a clatter and leaped in front of the other monk to protect his crippled comrade from my savagery. His round brown eyes were deep and soulful, and he showed no fear for himself as he stood with his hands balled into meaty fists the size of small boulders.

  I did not want a fight, particularly with this monk mountain of a man. I wanted more raw meat. I pointed at the empty tray in front of Garlic and me—a message that could be delivered in any language—and I laughed as the two monks scurried away to quickly return with two platters of raw, deliciously bloody meat, and set them before us warily. I did not care if it was wolf, yak, goat, monkey, or even monk. It was simply delicious. When I looked up from my feast, the monks were gone, and my belly was distended from having consumed so much, so quickly. I patted it happily and felt sleepy once again. I looked down at my legs, which seemed to be growing more sickly looking by the minute. I fought to keep consciousness, and my last action was pulling Garlic close to me for comfort.

  The call of nature awoke me with a start, strong pangs squeezing my stomach, and I barely found the strength to make it to a chamber pot situated next to a window. Garlic had apparently found the pot’s utility before I did, and it was all I could do to try and relieve myself with my legs shaking so hard, and I began to sweat. Though it was winter, and snow still adorned the mountaintops, for the moment the wind was not blowing its ill coldness in my chamber. What came out of me was quite foul, and I alternated retching with defecating before bringing the pot to the window to jettison its putrid contents to a gorge far below. I hoped that was the last of the Rakshas’ toxic gift to me. Tomorrow, I promised myself I would feel better. But what if I didn’t?

  I crawled over to a basin and found several buckets filled with fragrant water. One was dedicated to cleansing the nastiness from my nether regions, and I found the strength to send its contents after those of the pot. I crawled back to the buckets with the intent to wash the dried blood from my body, but fatigue overcame me, and I collapsed on my stomach just short of the buckets and lay exhausted with my efforts, spread-eagle and naked on the cold stone floor. I heard the door to my chamber open, and I cursed my all too vulnerable position. I heard a whimper and saw Garlic lying on her side in my field of vision, but not attacking. A thin curl of green ooze ran from her mouth. The poison of the Rakshas was still within her as well. I blinked and Garlic was gone. Instead I saw only a yellow light as bright as the sun, and I turned away fearing I would go blind. But then I heard soft footsteps come closer, approaching from behind.

  A wooden bucket was placed next to my head, and a cloth placed underneath it. My left arm was next to my head, and I saw a pair of very small, soft hands lift my arm ever so gently to examine the now absent gash that had been there courtesy of the Rakshas, and wash the dried blood from it before placing it back by my side. I always thought that only men were monks, but these hands didn’t look or feel like a man’s hands. I was able with great effort to turn my head and found myself looking at a figure with a bald head and a maroon robe, reaching for a couple of fresh buckets. Okay, it was a man. This monk was definitely smaller than the other two but had the same stocky build. I grunted and rolled to my side, and the monk turned, and I saw a kindness in his eyes and a softness to his face. Was this monk a man? I just couldn’t tell from the facial features. What kind of temple was this?

  The monk struggled to bring the heavy buckets to me, setting one down next to me so hard a small wave of warm water slopped over the side and onto my face. I sputtered and tried to blink the water away, but the monk was quick with a cloth. I opened my eyes and saw with surprise long fluttering eyelashes and a great set of lips. Male or female, this monk was simply attractive. “Thank you,” I rasped in Tibetan. “Can you understand me?”

  The monk merely shrugged and pushed me gently onto my back. The effort it took to bring the buckets over had loosened the front of the monk’s robe, and as the monk reached over me, I saw what I swore was the barely there roundness of two tiny breasts topped with completely erect nipples. How could this be? There were no female monks that I had ever heard of.

  In no time I was expertly cleaned of all blood, and my skin fairly glistened with a shiny wetness as the monk helped me
to a sitting position. My manhood had moved during my cleaning, but I was okay with it, because it meant that I wasn’t so dead after all. If the monk was really just a very pretty, bald, and feminine man, so be it! Suddenly, a cold wind blew into the chamber, knocking a candle onto the sleeping platform where a small fire erupted on the oil-tanned furs. The monk used the maroon robe to smother the flames in an instant. And the mystery was solved—the monk was a woman. “A lady monk. Who knew?” I said in Tibetan, my teeth suddenly chattering uncontrollably as the cold wind continued unabated.

  “I am not just a lady monk,” she said. So I looked at her again. Yes, she was bald, had thick legs and shoulders, and flatness of chest, but I knew a vagina when I saw one.

  “Who are you?” I asked. “What is your name?”

  “I have no name,” she said. “I am simply the Healer.”

  I could not stop shaking, and she stripped the ruined furs off the platform and laid me on the bed, climbing on top of me. She began rubbing my arms and legs, her bald head nestled in the crook of my neck, but still the cold did not abate. “Tell me your name,” I pleaded.

  “My name is Sonam, and you are not healed, vampire,” she said. “The cold is still within you yet. I must heal you.”

  “Stop the wind, and I will be fine,” I said, arching my body to come into closer contact with her warm body. My hands felt her firm strong back and ran down over thick legs and calves. I stared into Sonam’s eyes and saw a fiery glow in her pupils, growing bigger and bigger. “It was not a dream,” I said as Sonam brought her face close to mine. “It was you that got the poison out of me. Thank you for saving me!” I said through chattering teeth.

  “I have not saved you yet. I have not fulfilled my duty. The wind of the Rakshas has found you! It is drawn to you by the poison still within you. The cold will stop your heart and kill even you, vampire. I must finish the healing or you will die, and the circle will not be complete. I must not fail in my duty!”

  Sonam’s lips found my own, and I enjoyed how soft and supple they felt. Her tongue darted into my mouth like a golden snake and encircled my own. I looked into eyes that resembled twin suns, and gasped for breath. Again the flame within me grew hot as I felt my manhood growing, yearning to be inside her. Her hands were upon me as she stroked me into an inferno of pleasure, and I felt the cold ill chill of the Rakshas no more. I arched my hips, desperate now to enter her womanhood, but she drew back, and the shining light faded from her eyes, and the cold returned to my soul.

  “I cannot give that to you,” she cried, tears running from her face. “That is for my chosen one and no other!”

  I felt myself slacken and the cold begin to close a tight fist around my heart. “Then, I will not ask that of you, Sonam,” I said, struggling to speak, let alone breathe. “I would rather die than take your maidenhead if that is promised to another. Why can’t you do what we did before? Will that not work?”

  The wind whistled into the chamber, but no candles fell over, and nary a stray piece of fabric moved. This time the Raksha wind was coming for me to finish what the snow demons had started. Sonam remained atop me, sobbing, so I pushed her to the side and headed for the embers that remained in the brazier, intent on starting a fire to battle this demonic cold. But as I reached the brazier, the wind shifted, extinguishing them of every bit of life-giving flame. I turned toward the door and saw that Garlic was of a similar mind. “Come on,” I said. “We must escape this wind.” I reached for the handle as a massive blast of cold air pinned me to the door, sucking the very air from my lungs. It was as if I was atop the highest peak of this mountain range, closer to the sky than the earth, closer to death than to life. I gasped for breath, dropping to my knees, then the floor. Garlic barked sharply at the door, but the wind surrounded her sound, quelling it, quashing it, and then it came for me—came for my soul.

  Suddenly, the barest flicker of warmth cut through the cold as Sonam took my hand in hers, and a great golden light shot up my arm into my chest and deep into my heart. Her eyes ablaze again, Sonam led me back to the bed platform. “I am the Healer,” she said, kissing me long and deep. “You cannot escape the wind. I must complete the circle. I must fulfill my duty! It will be as the Dagger of Dorje commands!”

  She touched my cheek gently and ran her finger over my chapped lips. “You can never escape the wind as long as the poison is within you.” She lay down on the bed and pulled me to her. “Let the flame within you grow into an inferno, vampire,” she said, sliding my throbbing manhood into her with a gasp. “Know the Healer and be healed.”

  “Sonam,” I started, but she dug her strong hands into my buttocks and pushed me deeper into her.

  “Feel the fire of the Dagger of Dorje within you,” she commanded. “I give myself to you freely to complete the circle. I give you—life.” She moaned as I gave her the first of many pleasures, and slowly, steadily the heat of my passion was stoked ever higher. She pressed her thighs tight against me and locked her ankles behind me, forcing me into her ever harder, ever faster, ever quicker, until I exploded inside her with the heat of the Dagger of Dorje burning inside me, and I knew then that the cold death of the Rakshas was forever banished from my soul.

  We lay there not speaking, I on top of her, and I felt Garlic curl up by our feet, her white coat still aglow with a glimmer of golden light. Finally, I broke the silence and turned the monk’s face to me. “You did not have to do that, Sonam,” I said. “I am a vampire. I would have survived. I would have found another way. I always do.”

  She touched my jawline and traced it with her finger. “There was not another way. You would not have survived, vampire or not,” she said, tears once again welling up in her soft, sweet eyes. “My chosen one will have to understand. The circle is now complete. I have brought much honor to the temple. I have done my duty.”

  “Indeed,” I said, holding this sad little monk ever so tight. “Indeed.” There were no words I could find in my brain that could make Sonam feel better. She had given me something sacred to her and her chosen one, and with it, she had given me life. She had taught me much about sacrifice, and thus I was going to show her the utmost in respect, grace, and humanity.

  Chapter 2

  When I awoke, Sonam was gone, and I realized, as I dressed in fresh robes that had been laid out for me, that all traces of the venomous poison had vanished from my skin. I still felt weak, and every movement I made seemed to take extra effort. Dining on some blood oranges and goat meat, which Garlic happily shared with me, did not seem to help. I had to face the facts. It would be some time before I could leave this place and return home. And when I did, would I be just so much damaged goods?

  I retreated to the bed and slept again, only to be awakened by a gong, though no one entered my chamber. Feeling a bit stronger, I went to the door and opened it. I found myself face to face with the huge monk who had stood his ground earlier to protect his brother monk. But this time he was not in a fighting mood. A smile creased his round face as he put his fists together and bowed. Then he loosened his robe and opened it wide, and a phallus that looked every bit like a thick, brown python dropped down nearly to his knee.

  “Good heavens,” I exclaimed. “That thing should be in a cage!”

  “I am Choden,”—his eyes glinted all too familiarly—“and the duty of the Healer has now been passed to me! How are you feeling, vampire? You look a little ill. I think I see a little bit of a green tinge in your face! Perhaps there is some poison that remains? I am the Healer. Are you ready to be healed?”

  I gulped. The only thing that was making me feel a little bit green around the gills was the thought of being “healed” by this monk monolith. Perhaps the gods had smiled on me a bit, even though what had happened between Sonam and me had caused her such woe. I looked at Choden’s menacing manhood. I tried not to let him see I was staring at it, but he would have put a zebra to shame. That monstrous thing would have caused
me a whole lot of whoa! “I feel great,” I said, puffing out my chest and standing as straight as my weak legs would let me. “Never better!”

  There was no mistaking the look of disappointment in Choden’s face as he cinched his robe up, and the gleaming light faded from his eyes. “Then it is time you had counsel with Master Lobsang,” he said. “Please follow me.”

  I did as instructed, trying not to show any sign of weakness, though it tired me greatly to keep pace with the long strides of the big monk. How could he move so quickly with that thing between his legs, I wondered. If I had been blessed in that area by the whim of Persephone, Choden was downright sanctified. He looked back at me with a critical eye, and I picked up my pace to catch up with him, stifling a cough in the process. Garlic stopped for a moment to sniff at a door and growled low and deep.

  “That is the Inner Sanctum,” Choden said. “She does not like what she smells in that room. Odd, it is only one of our brothers trying to find inner peace.”

  I merely nodded, glad for the opportunity to catch my breath. A scream of rage followed by the sound of pottery shattering came from behind the door. “I guess he is not having much success,” I said.

  More screams came from behind the door, and I could make out bits of a very heated conversation. The brother looking for inner peace was not making a go of it on his own, and clearly his company was not helping the peace process! A primal scream came from behind the door, its owner clearly in a frothy rage. Was the other monk in there admonishing him to find his third eye?

  Garlic’s growl grew louder, and I tried to shoo her away from the door with no success. A look of concern came over Choden’s face, and he put his hand to the door and paused, clearly uncertain as to what he should do. Then we heard the unmistakable sound of a hard slap being delivered, and I could see Garlic was about to bark the door into smithereens. Suddenly, the door was thrust open, and Sonam ran out, tears in her eyes and a deep crimson mark on her face. She seemed shocked to see us standing there. But I don’t know who was more surprised at seeing Sonam, Choden or I, because we both stood there frozen, and not by the Raksha wind!