Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  “Holy smokes!” Gerry said, eyeing the platter hungrily. “That’s a lot of bacon!”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know if I trust that gas fridge of yours, Gerry, so I cooked it all up.” She then brought over yet another large plate, this one full of toasted slices of bread, while Gerry retrieved two mugs from the cupboard, and brought over the pot of coffee from the stove. Then the two of them sat down to eat. Gerry carefully lifted a few slices of bacon from the platter and put them down onto his plate, and was just about to eat one when there was a loud “Cahaw!”, and, with a rustle of flapping wings, Edgar swooped down from the rafters above them and landed on the floor not too far from the table, and cast his beady eyes at the couple.

  “I was wondering where you had got to,” Gerry said. “Thought you might have buggered off after that storm last night.” Suddenly, he threw a piece of bacon at the bird, which it caught deftly in its beak and then threw down onto the floor, breaking it into smaller, more manageable pieces.

  “Hey, Gerry, don’t do that,” Cassie said, alarmed. “Do ravens even eat bacon?” She looked at the bird doubtfully, but Edgar ignored her and started pecking at the bits of meat on the floor, finally selecting one and throwing his head back to eat it.

  “Ravens, like crows, are scavengers, babe, and will eat just about anything,” Gerry replied, laughing. “Even if it’s edible or not, in most cases!”

  “Well, anyway, don’t encourage him, or else we will be lumbered with him, and he’ll be, you know, pooping everywhere!”

  “Don’t worry, babe,” Gerry replied, almost choking on the mouthful of bacon he had. “He doesn’t seem to have pooped anywhere in here yet, and we’ll be kicking him out when we leave, so he can’t help himself to anything, or crap all over, while we’re out. How does that sound?” He smiled at Cassie, who looked far from convinced.

  “We’ll see, Gerry, we’ll see! Those birds ain’t as dumb as they like to make us think they are! Know what I’m saying?”

  “Oh, I know what you’re saying, babe,” Gerry replied, still laughing.

  ~* * * *~

  Later that day, Gerry found himself wandering through the aisles of the Home Depot store in Orangeville, looking for a new lock to replace the one the storm had shattered. Fortunately, the old doorframe had proven pretty solid, and it was only the lock itself that had been shattered by the thunderbolt.

  “A few new screws, and maybe a new keyhole, and we should be as right as rain,” he mumbled to himself, picking out the heaviest, strongest door lock he could find. “And, just for good measure,” he said, picking up two dead bolts.

  As he was paying for the hardware, the mobile phone in his jacket pocket started playing Je T’aime by Birkin and Gainsbourg and, with a sheepish smile at the girl ringing up his purchases, he pressed the answer button on the phone and put it to his ear.

  “Hi, babe, what’s up?”

  “Hey, Gerry, you should see this.” Cassie’s usually relaxed Bermudan drawl was surprisingly tense. “I think I’ve found your demon!”

  “Yeah? Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m in the library, hon, and there’s quite a lot of information on the internet here about a lot of the figures in that deck of cards.”

  “Give me five minutes, babe, and I’ll be there. Love you!” Hanging up the phone, he paid for his collection of locks and headed out of the store.

  ~* * * *~

  At the far end of the reference section was an area with about a dozen computer terminals, where Gerry found Cassie sitting, reading web pages, surfing the net. Pulling up a chair, he rolled next to her.

  “Hey, babe,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “What you got?”

  “Look at this, Gerry,” she replied, flipping back through a few web pages. Turning her screen so Gerry could see it, she moved aside to let him get closer to the computer. The article was about a legendary Irish king called Muirchertach mac Erca, and how he had met his untimely end at the hands of a beautiful Sidhe witch called Sín. That much Gerry already knew from the Book of the Lore, but it was the details the followed that really struck home.

  One day, while the great lord of Cletech was seated on his hunting mound, a beautiful maiden comes to him, saying she had been seeking for him. She fills the king with such desire, that he declares he would give the whole of Ireland for one night of passion with her. She agrees under three conditions: that he never speak her name; that the mother of his children never be in her sight; and that all of the holy men leave the house whenever she enters it.

  The king agrees, and, so that he avoids saying her name, he asks her what it is. She replies, “Storm [Irish Sín ("Sheen")], Sigh, Sough, Rough Wind, Winter-night, Cry, Wail, Groan.”

  “So, her name is pronounced ‘Sheen’, eh?” Gerry mused. “Well, we already figured she was ‘Storm’. Now we know how to say it!” He chuckled grimly.

  “There’s more,” Cassie said. “You should read how she finally killed off the king, and why. And look at this...” She flipped over to another screen, which showed a painting of the Irish High King and his paramour. The woman sitting by his side was the same woman depicted on the Queen of Storms Tarot card – Sín.

  “Wow!” Gerry said. “That’s her. Bugger me!”

  “She killed the Irish High King, Gerry. If that deck is full of characters like that, I am not sure it’s the kind of thing we should be hanging onto.” Gerry turned to look at her, seeing the look of concern on her face.

  “Aw, don’t worry, babe. These are ancient myths and legends. We can’t even know what really happened back then, if anything. Just fairy stories from long, long ago.” Even as he said it, he felt his cock twitch in protest. “And, anyway, most of the characters in that deck are the same as a lot of other decks – harmless representations of interesting people and symbols.”

  “What?” Cassie said. “You have seen other decks where the suits are called Storms, Strangers and Stones? At least Staves is relatively normal, but those other three. And a lot of the cards in that deck have scenes that are, well...”

  “Naughty, eh?” Gerry chuckled gently. “Full of nudes and people doing unspeakable things, eh? Believe me, I’ve seen more sexually graphic decks than that one, babe!” He put his arm around her and squeezed her gently, then turned back to the computer screen. Flipping back to the previous website, he continued to read...

  Seeing the Queen and her children expelled, and the beautiful maiden sitting at Muirchertach's right hand, St Cairnech puts a curse on the King’s house and reign. In her defence, Sín says that she believes in God and is a child of Adam and Eve; yet she can perform works of wonder, such as turning the Boyne water into wine or making pigs from ferns.

  “Ha! No wonder she had such a hate on for St. Patrick and Catholics!”

  “What? Who had a hate on for St. Patrick?” Cassie asked, taken aback by the comment.

  “Oh, err, Sín did. I must have read it in the book.”

  “You sure, Gerry? I don’t remember reading that.”

  “I must have heard or read it somewhere, then. Maybe Nation said it; I don’t remember offhand.”

  When the King speaks of the storm (Sín) raging outside, the enraged Sidhe demands to know why he has spoken her secret name, and warns him that he is now doomed. She sets his castle on fire, and conjures up demons disguised as Tuathal Máelgarb warriors – the King’s deadly enemies - to attack his home. In his attempt to escape, the King climbs into a cask of wine and drowns, while his body burns. This event is known as the Threefold Death of Muirchertach mac Erca.

  “She didn’t screw about with him, did she?” Gerry said, rubbing his chin and chuckling.

  “I can’t believe you’re taking this so lightly, Gerry,” Cassie said, exasperated. “You know, back home in the islands, we have a much healthier respect for our ancient legends and traditions!”

  “You mean your old world superstitions, babe? You realise, that’s all they are – superstitions. Nothing to get all hot under the
collar about!”

  “How about hot under the belt, Gerry?”

  “What?” he asked, turning to look at Cassie. “Hot under the belt, eh?”

  “I didn’t speak, Gerry! Are you hearing things?”

  “I don’t think so, sexy, but I am willing to hear anything you want to say to me,” he said playfully.

  The sound of music came from Cassie’s purse, interrupting Gerry’s innuendo. Cassie fumbled in her bag, then pulled out her mobile phone and looked at its screen. “It’s a Bermuda number,” she said, a look of concern crossing her face. “This can’t be good news.” She pressed the answer button and put the phone to her ear. Gerry sat and listened to the one sided conversation, holding Cassie’s free hand in a show of support. From what he heard, he gathered that Cassie’s mom had had a fall, and was now in hospital. She was apparently unconscious, but no one could tell how bad she really was.

  After a few minutes, Cassie hung up, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s my mom, Gerry. I...”

  “It’s alright, babe, I heard. Come here.” He pulled her close and hugged her. “Guess we’d better get you a flight out to Bermuda, eh?”

  “You don’t mind, hon?” she asked, looking gratefully at him.

  “Don’t be silly, babe! How could I possibly mind about you looking after your family? After all, they’re gonna be my family soon. Come on, there’s a travel agent just across the road, next to the book store. Let’s get you on the next flight out, and then we’ll hit the cottage and get you packed.”

  6

  Crickets chirruped hypnotically in the early evening gloom, enjoying the warmth of the late summer humidity, as Gerry sat in a Muskoka chair on the dock, watching the sun sinking slowly across the lake. Despite the beauty of the sunset and the friendliness of the red-rimmed sky, promising yet another glorious day to come, his heart was troubled and heavy, missing Cassie. The strange thing for Gerry O’Keith was that he couldn’t remember ever feeling lonely like this. It had never been in his nature to be alone; he’d always had lots of friends, and lots of girls, to share his time with, but now...

  Listless and tired from the boredom of being by himself, he got up out of the chair and wandered aimlessly back into the cottage. For a moment or two he thought about calling Cassie, but he wasn’t sure if she was inflight to Bermuda. Hell, he thought, she’s only been gone a day, dude! Get a grip!

  Walking through the great room, he spotted the silver box that contained the Tarot of the Acolyte, on the small coffee table beside the sofa, and the sight of it immediately brought the Queen of Storms to his mind. Despite the temptation of her eldritch beauty, he was glad he’d chosen to forgo building whatever kind of relationship with the Sidhe witch-queen that she’d had in mind. He wasn’t prepared to give up Cassie and tie himself to something he couldn’t even explain, let alone believe in. He much preferred the reality of the passionate and powerful partnership he and Cassie had developed into. Don’t need no faerie fucking with that! he thought. Still, any thought of Sín made him shudder, and he quickly put her out of his mind, not wishing to tempt fate and bring her there by accident, just by thinking of her. As if to emphasize his decision, he seized the silver box of cards and, wrapping it up in a blanket, he took it through to the bedroom and stuffed it away in an armoire.

  “Outta sight, outta mind!” he said, closing the bedroom door behind him.

  ~* * * *~

  Back out on the dock, in the gathering dusk, he encountered a disgruntled raven – he couldn’t tell if it was Edgar or not – sitting on the back of the Muskoka chair.

  “You can take a hike, too,” he said, waving his hands at the bird until, with an annoyed “Cahaw!”, it took flight and disappeared into the shadow of the trees. Gerry sat down heavily in the chair, as if reclaiming his rightful throne back from the feathered pretender, and looked out into darkness settling over the lake. Low in the clear, western sky, the bright blue blaze of Venus flickered in the heat haze, taking his mind back to Cassie, and increasing his longing for her to return. As if he hadn’t seen or touched her for months, his mind filled with visions of their rampant, passionate love-making, his eyes closing to let him concentrate on making the illusions as real as possible, and, in response to the stimulating mental activity, his deprived manhood twitched and inflated within his shorts, tightening them around his hips.

  Suddenly, the mobile phone in his pocket started to buzz, and he pulled it out and peered at the screen to see who was calling. With a smile, he pressed the answer button and, in his sexiest voice, said, “Hi, babe! You always did have good timing. I was just thinking naughty things about you.” In reply, he heard Cassie’s sweet laugh.

  “Were you, indeed, you horny old goat, you?” Her merriment pinged at his heart strings, and tightened his throat. “So you’re doing ok out there, then, without me?”

  “No, I am not,” he replied. “This place is empty without you, babe, and will be until you get back. I miss you, Cassie.”

  “I miss you, too, Gerry, and I will do my best to get back there as quickly as possible. My flight is just about ready to board, hon, but we’ve been delayed because of bad thunderstorms in the area.”

  “Oh,” Gerry responded, suddenly concerned that the storms might not be of natural origin. She couldn’t be that powerful, could she? But to Cassie on the other end of the phone, he said, “I am sure you will have nothing to worry about, babe. Planes fly through that kind o’ shit all the time.”

  “I know, Gerry, but you know me! One rumble and I’ll be hiding under the seats!” Gerry suddenly had a vision of a screaming Cassie crouched under the seat in front of her, while Sín, riding a broomstick outside of the plane, knocked on the window, trying to get her attention, and he laughed. “Hey, no need to laugh at me,” Cassie said. “That’s not fair! You try growing up in a place where a hurricane can blow your house away, and see how you worry when there are storms about.”

  “Sorry, babe,” Gerry said, guiltily trying to regain his composure. “I wasn’t laughing at you, honestly.”

  “Yes, you were, fibber! Anyway, you be good and look after yourself, OK, hon?”

  “Yeah, I will, babe.”

  “And just think of all the fun we’re gonna have when I get back there. So get some rest, ‘cos you’re gonna need it, big boy.”

  “You, too, babe,” he replied, trying to put as much passion into his voice as possible. “Oh, and don’t forget, Dick misses you, too!” He chuckled, and heard her giggle through the phone.

  “Does he now, mm? Well, I miss him, too! Love you!”

  “Love you, babe,” he replied, and pressed the end call button. Sighing, he lay back in the chair, and closed his eyes, trying, without too much difficulty, to regain the visions of a few minutes earlier.

  ~* * * *~

  Splat!

  A huge drop of rain hit Gerry on the brow, then ran down the side of his nose and into his eye, waking him up instantly. He was still sitting in the chair on the dock, only now he was engulfed in total darkness. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there asleep, but the stars were now hidden by a heavy layer of thick cloud, making the blackness of the lakeside almost impenetrable. There was a cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees, making him feel clammy as the humidity rolled through on the edge of the incoming cold front.

  Shit! Thunderstorms coming in!

  As if in answer to his thought, another drop of rain hit him square in the face. Without thinking any more about it, he sprang up out of the chair and raced back to the cottage, and started shuttering the windows and doors as quickly as possible. When they were all safely covered, he ran into the cottage and closed the front door behind him, slammed home the two bolts, and turned the key in the new lock, then stood, panting, his outstretched arms leaning against the door, glad to have the storms, and all they represented, locked outside.

  “Well, well, well! Who would have thought it? Big, burly Gerry O’Keith, afraid of a little thunderstorm!” He froze as the liltin
g voice of the Queen of Storms echoed around the great room. His knees almost buckled, but he forced himself erect and spun around to see where she was, but the preternatural darkness in the room was almost impenetrable. Holding his hand out before him, he carefully navigated across the room to one of the gas lamps on the wall and, striking one of the giant matches each of them had underneath, he lit the globe up, filling the room with the dull, warm, golden glow.

  Turning round to scan the room, he quickly located Sín, reclining comfortably in the corner of the sectional sofa, her feet bare, her long legs resting on the cushions. He eyed her nervously, like a fly caught in the web of a malicious spider, wondering how it was going to avoid being eaten. She, in turn, watched him, a smirk playing on her full, red lips, accentuating the paleness of her skin and the blueness of her eyes.

  “You seem surprised to see me, Gerry,” she said, her voice warm and forbearing.

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t be seeing you again,” Gerry answered, being direct.

  “Aw, you do surprise me,” Sín responded, sounding upset. “And I had thought we were getting along so well, too. And look,” she cast an arm around the room, “no Cassie. You did as I asked, and now...”

  “Cassie being gone had nothing to do with me or you,” he replied. “She had a family emergency she had to attend to.”

  “Did she now?” Sín said, sitting up. “Nevertheless...”

  “Nevertheless nothing,” Gerry butted in. “I made my decision, and...”

  “And decided I am not worthy of your company, sir? Is that it?” The Queen of Storms looked sadly at him, as if at some errant child with whom its mother was disappointed. “Very well,” she said, standing up, “as you wish. But this evening could have been so special. I could have taught you so much about that little deck of cards you bought, Gerry. I could have shown you the true power contained within the Tarot of the Acolyte.” She walked slowly over to the door, and picked up her soft leather slippers.

  “What do you mean, the ‘true power’ within the cards?” Gerry asked, intrigued despite his misgivings. “They’re just cards, after all.”