by Aya Walksfar
I opened the first door on the right and walked in. After closing the door, I lit several lanterns that hung from pegs driven into the solid rock walls. Tied to a bed lay a naked woman with long dark hair and frightened brown eyes. As I glided closer, the woman’s trembling coaxed a smile from me. I raked my eyes from the curves of her breasts to the dark triangle between her legs.
Slowly, I disrobed and hung my clothes on the only chair--and only other piece of furniture--in the room. Standing over the woman’s spread-eagled body, I inhaled deeply. A faint trace of fear mixed with the stronger scents of sexual excitement and mingled with the sweet musk of human female. Bending low, I scraped my teeth over the woman’s breasts. Goosebumps pimpled her skin.
It had been so easy to addict this one. Some humans react so strongly to the chemicals in a vampire’s bite that they rapidly become addicted and actively seek engagement in vampire sexual and blood donation encounters. This seemed especially true of those humans who enjoyed BDSM play.
Watching her dark eyes, I suddenly bit and pierced one nipple. The shock of pain forced a gasp from her. I licked the blood that flowed down the exquisite mound and into the valley between.
Revulsion and raw need warred across her plain features. A moan wrenched from her mouth. “I hate you for making me want you,” she whispered.
Lust flared hot in my loins. It required immense control not to take the woman right then. With one fingernail, I gouged a line down the center of her chest to her navel. Pain mixed with arousal--lovely smells of cloves and honey--exploded from her. A cry tore from her full lips as her hips strained upward, seeking contact with my body.
Blood beaded in the groove. With the tip of my tongue, I slowly licked up the droplets.
Head tossing in sexual need, she moaned louder this time as she pressed her shoulders against the bed, trying to push her breasts closer to my mouth.
When I stood up, I took a tiny step away from the bed. My sex throbbed. Gliding to the foot of the bed, I eased onto the mattress between the tied and thrashing legs. I ran my tongue up the inside of one thigh. A surge of honeyed lust burst from the woman’s damp mound. Eyes locked on my victim’s eyes, I licked my way to the heated dark slit. I swirled my tongue around her swollen clit then darted my tongue into the woman’s dark crevice of pleasure.
She thrust her hips upward as much as her restraints allowed. “Please….”
Tongue dancing around and into the delicious moistness, I plunged three fingers into her. She bucked hard against my hand, her sheath clenching around my fingers as I yanked them out then pounded back in, again and again. My tongue flicked her swollen clit in rhythm to my strokes.
When she rode close to the crest of her desire, I pulled my hand out of her. Crawling up her body, I pressed my throbbing sex against the wet mound beneath me and thrust hard and fast. Just as her climax ripped through her, I grabbed her shoulders. Without priming my fangs to release the chemicals that gave pleasure, I plunged them into the long column of her white throat.
Excruciating pain burst through the grip of lust. The taste of lust--cloves and honey—mixed with the burnt sugar taste of fear as her warm blood pumped over my tongue.
Her heart pounded frantically as if it sought to tear free from its puny cage of ribs. I tore my fangs out of her throat then thrust them in again. This time the taste of burnt sugar nearly overpowered the taste of cloves and honey.
Her heartbeat fluttered, weakening with each suckle of my mouth. Again I yanked free from her throat and for the last time plunged my fangs into the woman’s neck. A weak surge of burnt sugar trickled into my mouth as my climax roared through me and I savaged the side of her throat. A few more hot trickles of blood coaxed from her dying heart before it fell silent.
I climbed off the bed. Walking over to the shower, I waited for the water to heat up then stepped in.
Dressed once again, I barely flicked a glance at the corpse as I walked out. At the end of the black hall lay the largest room in the basement of my previous home. Once it had housed entertainment equipment for human and vampire guests. I had carted that useless trash out and tossed it on the mounting pile of garbage in the middle of the courtyard one night.
Large iron spikes attached to iron rings were now driven into the rock walls. Tied to four of those rings, a young male hung with the stillness of near death. He cracked swollen eyelids and stared at me in the light of the lanterns.
“Back for some more fun, I see. Just like a woman; can’t keep her hands off my bod,” he croaked from between cracked lips. Neither torture nor blood loss had shackled his tongue.
I sauntered over and ran a red-tipped nail down his chocolate cream chest, halting now and then to finger the black, tightly kinked curls. “I love a victim with some fire in their veins. If I didn’t require your death for my spell, I would keep you for a few more weeks.” I heaved a melodramatic sigh and turned away.
Though fear poured from his skin, he spoke boldly. “When I'm dead, I'm coming back to haunt your lily white ass.”
Candles lit, incense clouding the air, I picked up the ancient obsidian knife--a sharp, double-edged blade attached to a bone handle--handed down from my mother. Once the blade had been the knife Mother wore into battles. Now it had been consecrated for use in human sacrifice. The light danced along its shiny blade, glinting off the red-swirled ebony, as I stalked toward my victim. “Your pain is as necessary as your blood. My only regret is that as a warlock, you have been something of a disappointment. It has been years since I’ve run into a warlock who practices Nyx Blood Magic.” I cocked my head. “Didn’t you realize that Pale Blood Magic would have made you so much stronger? Not that it would have kept you safe from me.”
He grimaced. “Bitch, you are a monster and a sadist; something that I never had the desire to become.”
“Do you think that labeling me will make me pause and, perhaps, even rethink my course of action?” The knife slid into the soft flesh of his groin as if it eased through warm butter. Slowly, I carved away penis and testicles.
His head bent back until it slammed into the wall. He screamed until his voice broke. How fortunate that I had soundproofed the basement when I built my house.
Sweet scents of agony flooded the area. I inhaled deeply. A surge of pleasure and Energy filled me. I turned away and left him hanging in his chains as I stepped into the previously prepared circle.
Chapter 21
Alexis Night Runner
I looked up and rubbed my eyes as Ri slouched into the suite of rooms she had assigned me four days earlier.
“Have you found anything yet?” Ri leaned a hip against the edge of the beautiful wood desk where she had had a computer installed for my use.
“Not one Goddess blessed lead to the information I need.” I rammed a hand through my hair and felt like pulling it out.
“The meeting with the Witches’ Council is at midnight tonight.”
My arms dropped to the desktop on either side of the laptop computer. I grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”
“What’s bothering you, girlfriend?”
“I just feel...” My eyes drifted away from Ri and I stared out of the window in front of the desk. The forest beckoned. “I just feel like a traitor to Serena, meeting with...with everyone and plotting how we’re going to capture her.”
Ri sighed and slumped into the chair next to the desk. “You and me both, but I don’t see what else we can do. Something is terribly wrong and we haven’t found the answers, yet.” She looked at me with haunted eyes. “I fear that time is fast running out. If anyone knows magic, it’s the witches. They may be our only hope.”
I snorted a bitter laugh. “If they decide to help. Their rep seemed pretty confident that I was wasting my time.”
Belligerence flared in Ri’s eyes. “Their rep can suck rotten lemons. She’s not even a full-fledged witch yet.”
Ariel’s voice floated in from the yard. I peered out, watching the youngster spar with Warriors and werepan
ther fighters. “This is more than terrible for her, but she won’t talk about it; not even with Nikki.”
“What does she tell Nikki, if I may ask?”
“Of course, you may ask. You can ask anything you please. Your butt’s on the line just the same as ours since you took us in.”
She moved one shoulder slightly, her version of a shrug. “I once told Serena that I would do everything in my power to aid her People like she once aided me. Honor compels me to fulfill that obligation, but friendship makes me care deeply.”
“Ariel tells Nikki that she fears her mother may be killed before she can be captured.”
Ri cocked her head. “What did Nikki tell Ariel?”
“The truth. That her fears are well-grounded, yet we have been left no other choice in the matter.”
****
A ten-foot tall wrought iron gate guarded the entrance to the witch’s estate. I leaned out of the driver’s side window and pressed the button on the callbox. A voice crackled over the intercom and commanded me to state my name and business.
“I am Alexis Night Runner, Captain of Artemis’ Warriors and leader of the Alliance for Artemis. I have an appointment with the Witches Council of Seven at midnight.”
“You and all passengers must disembark and walk to the front of the vehicle.”
Ri, Ariel and I followed the instructions then we waited. Within minutes, two slender figures emerged from the deeper shadows inside the compound. Dogs the size of small ponies stalked next to them. Dogs and handlers halted twenty feet away from the gate and waited silently.
I figured they had to be sizing the three of us up, so I remained quiet. It was a hella gamble we were taking. This would be an excellent time to cripple the Warriors, as well as the werepanthers and to strike a devastating blow at the vampires, if the witches decided to play it that way.
My heart hammered, but without vampire or Were hearing I felt fairly certain the witches couldn’t hear its frantic pace. I resisted the urge to wipe sweaty palms on my black jeans and stuck my hands into my front pockets instead. Showing a weakness, even legitimate nerves, wasn’t an option. I had to convince the Council that by joining the Alliance for Artemis, witches would benefit with increased safety.
The blood red eyes of the dogs never wavered from us when the gate finally swung open soundlessly--and, it appeared, without the need of human or witch hands.
“Come,” a voice like an angel invited us in.
As soon as we cleared the gates, the wrought iron barriers swung shut again. Up close, the youth of the witches became clear. They appeared to be barely beyond their teens. The one with long auburn tresses waved at the cobblestone path now outlined with small lights near the ground as well as the three-quarter moon above us.
The melodious voice that had bade us to enter instructed, "Follow the path. Do not deviate. When you reach the doors, others will receive you.”
I led the way. Ariel’s footsteps whispered behind me while I couldn’t hear Ri’s at all. The path wove through a thick stand of cedar, madrone and pine. Deep shadows lurked between the trees and I could have sworn several of those shadows moved from tree to tree.
It felt as if we had been walking for an hour by the time we stepped into a clearing. The mansion glowed with warm lights spilling from its many windows. Seven wooden stairs led up to an open wood platform that formed a half-circle. A soft yellow light shone over the double, oak entrance doors, centered within that half-circle.
As I strode up the stairs, I measured the two women guarding the doors. Amazonian in proportions--easily over six-feet tall while skin tight, black jeans and equally tight, black tee shirts emphasized well-muscled forearms, tight abs and slender waists that led to well-developed thighs. Their dark hair had been shorn to within an inch of their scalps; no doubt a precaution against an enemy using long tresses for a handhold. Silently, they swung the doors open and held them for us to enter.
The marble-floored entry glowed with a gentle white light from the overhead crystal chandelier. Another woman waited inside the door. When we entered, she wordlessly swung around and motioned for us to follow. For a moment, I stuttered to a halt. Why had no one bothered to relieve us of the weapons we openly carried? A small voice at the back of my mind whispered, “Because their magic will protect them, should it be necessary.”
Our tour guide, as I mentally dubbed her, led us through amazing rooms filled with priceless antiques. The conservatory, built solely of glass, housed hundreds of growing plants and trees filled with a number of colorful birds beneath the clear glass dome.
After walking through what felt like an endless hall filled with twists and turns and branches, our tour guide stopped in front of a dark wood door. Without a word, she swung it open. When we stepped inside she closed it behind us.
Bookcases filled two walls up to a twelve-foot high ceiling. Windows comprised a third wall and the fourth wall held the door we had entered and a few oil paintings of elderly women, most likely witch ancestors. The hardwood floor gleamed, even in the dim light. Chairs and couches had been grouped in circular arrangements throughout the huge space. Seven women seated within one such circle looked over at us.
One of the women clothed in an indigo blue robe stood. “Please, children, come and be seated.” She waved to chairs across the circle from the women. Between the women and the indicated chairs, several other empty chairs filled the space.
Warily glancing around, I led the way to the center of the room. By pre-arrangement, Ri and I placed Ariel between us. Settled on the edge of the plump cushion, I observed the gathered witches.
Each woman wore a different color robe. Most of the robes had been loosely belted and gaped open to show a wide range of clothing beneath, but no visible weapons. Only those with great confidence could be so nonchalant about meeting armed strangers.
The woman in the indigo robe lowered herself back on her chair and studied me. After a short while, she plucked a remote device from the small table beside her chair and fingered a button. Lights immediately brightened, overwhelming the dim--and visibly empty--edges of the room.
Eyes big, Ariel was the first to break the silence. “Is your entire house circular? The entry hall and all the rooms we saw on the way here were. Even the halls weren’t really straight.”
The leader chuckled, a warm sound like oatmeal on a cold day. “Yes, child. We believe that life is a circle and most things in nature follow that pattern as well. We hope to honor Mother Earth not only with our words, but also with our deeds.”
I raised my brows and locked eyes with the leader. “Is it honoring the earth to create the illusion of endless halls and rooms to confuse your guests?”
The leader cocked her head and a slight smile played around her mouth. “Ah, most of our guests are not quite so astute. They simply believe that we live in a really large mansion.”
“So, even if we pulled our weapons and killed all of you....” One of the other women gave a snort of disbelief, but I couldn’t tell which woman it was. “It wouldn’t do us any good. We’d never find our way out of the mansion before we faced the rest of your witches. I wondered why you let us keep our weapons.”
Her head dipped slightly in acknowledgement of my supposition. “We did not wish for you to feel uncomfortable and your weapons seem to provide comfort to you.”
“Patrice, can we get on with this meeting?” The woman in a silvery gray robe shifted on her chair as if she wished to be anywhere, except there.
“Mavis, surely you would not be so ignorant as to entertain guests without answering their questions and offering refreshments before we must speak of dark and dangerous events? I think this would reflect poorly upon us.” With that said, the leader touched the remote once again.
Though nothing could be heard inside the room, within seconds two women about the age of the gate guards wheeled in antique, wooden serving carts with large spoke wheels. I had seen one on eBay once. It had been built of pine, was quite rare and outr
ageously expensive. No doubt these were, too.
Silver tea and coffee services graced the top of the carts while the bottom shelf held silver trays of scones. The women served the gathering with minimal talk, left the carts and the remaining refreshments a few feet outside the conversation circle then left as quietly as they had arrived.
I aimed an amused grin at the witch who led the gathering, Patrice. “How do you train them?”
“Train them? The girls, you mean?” The leader’s face held a mild questioning look.
“Yeah, the girls. My mother would’ve killed to have had my teenage self keep my mouth shut the way these girls do and to obey orders so well.”
A smile blossomed over the weathered features. “They act as they wish, but all have learned that to be silent and to watch will teach them more than to fill the air with empty words.”
I gave a rueful head shake. “Wish I’d been that smart that young.”
As we consumed the refreshments the other witches chimed into the conversation. It wasn’t like we spoke of anything important; just the unusual weather patterns, the plants in the aviary and the hellhounds that helped guard the gate.
Ri had remained mostly silent and spoke only when directly asked for an opinion, but Ariel had joyfully jumped into the dialogue, asking endless questions. The women, all except for Mavis, responded to the child’s enthusiasm.
Mavis glared around at everyone and at no one in particular as she drank coffee and picked at a scone. When the refreshments had been consumed, the plates cleared away and the coffee refilled, she noisily set her cup on the occasional table next to her chair. “Now can we discuss why this meeting has been called?” Exasperation edged her words until they could cut an unwary person.
Patrice graciously dipped her head. “Of course. We don’t want to detain these young ladies for too long.” She turned ocean blue eyes on me. “Alexis Night Runner, you have asked for, and been granted, an audience with the Witches’ Council of Seven. Speak.”