by Dacy Alex
"Now let us go, ladies. It is not as if I am asking you to dress in a pirate costume and service an elderly Saudi prince."
"That was an awfully specific example!" Giselle realized. "Just explain the plan in detail?
Dusty's big doe eyes slammed shut in frustration.
"Very well," Tristabelle acquiesced. "We shall pay a visit to members of the Church of Saturday."
"Hot dog!" Dusty exclaimed, eyes brightening. "Church-goers, God's people. 'Course they're gonna love a sweet little angel like me."
Fleur and Giselle passed each other a raised eyebrow look.
Sofi's long eyes went up with recognition. "They follow me on IG."
Who doesn't?
Sofi added, "They really respect my captions that promote unity and self-love."
"Or," Fleur began, "they're there to see you bussin’ it open above those captions."
"Well, I've never heard of them," Giselle protested.
"They have recently become the owners and sole readers of works of the Greek poet Sappho," Tristabelle pointed out, her eyes sparkling in admiration.
Giselle swore she saw one of the gargoyle statues turn its head. But she only said, "Greek poet Sappho?"
"Goodness! You've never heard of Sappho?" Tristabelle stammered. "How shameful! Abhorrent even. Indeed the American education must be like being taught by a goat with dementia."
"An accurate description," Fleur declared while picking through a waiter's offering of blood bags.
Tristabelle continued, "As they enjoy the form of our three species, I think a little coy look, a little wink, a little bared areola—"
"Bared areola?" Giselle interrupted.
"And we shall have access to Belephegor and get our talisman."
"Maybe you two should just go," Giselle countered, eyes on the ground.
Traveling with Trusty aka The Torture Twins. Giselle had decided even though Fleur was a literal demon and Sofi was part animal Dusty and Tristabelle shared top intimidation honors.
"What's wrong?" Dusty queried. "Ya got a problem with us?"
Fleur cut in with a big smile that for once was reassuring. Her hand went to Giselle's shoulder. Her grip was strong, almost masculine. But still feminine. Giselle was back inside those pale blue eyes. They almost glow, and they're almost hypnotizing.
"Just follow their lead and nothing bad will happen," Fleur raised her blood bag to Giselle's heart-shaped lips. "You want a hit of this blood? B positive."
"Hard pass on that one."
Giselle moved a white gold strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled at the others. There was plenty of risk involved. But these super-strong girls were finally looking at her like something resembling useful. Maybe even extraordinary?
Perhaps she should journal these events in the anonymous journaling app, Joinaling, her dad made part of his fortune on. But Dawn Nyfall had Giselle's app hacked to send the journals back to her—so probably not.
An atmospheric guitar ballad wafted overhead, its lyrics drowning out the nearby laughter of a lady in a mardi gras type mask.
"Give me a chance," the male singer crooned, "To run away, to say goodbye to the end of me."
Led by the princess wearing a gown that kids in a sweatshop probably spent all of puberty making, Giselle and Dusty snaked their way through the throng of revelers. Though after hearing a rotund man baring his fangs while announcing he liked to eat humans alive, Giselle decided to cling extra close to the extraordinary blonds in her company.
Aside from a desire to not be eaten alive Giselle wished to relate somehow to these two who she only had Hemera in common. The characters of dreams and tales all had some special quality the mere humans reading them can latch onto. Surely, Tristabelle embodied a down-to-earth quality of a Cinderella or a Belle. As for Dusty, what would be more down-to-earth than a wrestling fan?
Giselle looked towards the pixie, "Dusty, your major is parks and recreation?"
"Sure is!" Dusty's cute circular mouth gave a whistle, "The fairy kingdom is a forest in Nashville. Kinda."
Wonder what page of the visitor's guide mentions a magical forest?
"And you both have older siblings?" Giselle pressed.
"I gots a big sister," Dusty answered. "She's in the FBI, the Fairy Best Investigators."
I swear there was a gay porn named that.
"But my queen got a whole helping of siblings."
Tristabelle's darling lips took on a genuine smile. "My siblings range from the sweet to the deranged as you saw with Tryggyr. There is one, however..." Her face darkened, her brow sat heavily above her deep-set almond eyes. "My second eldest brother. Why, the world would be a better place if my mother expelled him from her womb into a volcano. Should we ever meet again, he will have much to answer for. And after he answers, I shall sever his tongue and boil it in pig feces, acid, and chicken broth."
Giselle possessed enough sense not to climb a family tree that hung shit-boiled tongues as ornaments.
The blond trio passed by the pool, which combined with the mirrors to create a dazzling array of colors. It should have been pretty but Giselle had a feeling it was an angelic quagmire of color and threat. The others showed zero fear, but they weren't the ones who slept with a butter knife and baseball bat next to their bed at age 16 due to fear of monsters from the Fallout games.
Finally, Tristabelle led them past a mirrored hallway lined by unmasked buff female guards. After a smile to these women, Tristabelle took her friends through a black door to enter the depths of the sun.
Or what looked like the sun. A large ball comprised of a sphere of LEDs and cut crystals shone from the ceiling in such a way that it felt like the sun had come to inhabit the earth. For Giselle it was the coolest thing she'd ever seen.
Beneath the radiant ball was a circular couch that housed four naked women in cat masks. The women were of varying body types, from bodybuilder to supermodel thin. Sprawled on the floor was Kabuso, Sofi's admirer, and owner of...
A super huge erection!
They were so eye-catching that even the aloof princess and the feisty pixie cracked smiles in appreciation. Giselle might have done the same were her face and whole body not frozen by the black male they sat around.
His top hat and black tailcoat did nothing to set him apart from the party's other Heteroclite gathers. It was the fact that his head wasn't much of a head at all. It was a skull stripped bare of skin with his nostrils impaled with silver plugs.
The skeletal man leaned forward, his vacant sockets seeming to probe the freshmen, prying their clothes off without raising a hand. His lady companions peered at the blonds as well. Their unmasked eyes attached themselves to every inch of the co-eds' perfect bodies. With a gluttonous lust they savored Tristabelle's endless legs, Dusty's double Ds, and Giselle's not quite as big but still pretty damn nice chest cannons.
"May I present," Tristabelle started. "Dusty Blackwood, pixie, and Giselle Nyfall, an extraordinary human."
"Well, I just wanna say," Dusty began, "I'm used to hopeless idiots ogling me, so it's a real treat to be appreciated by some classy folks."
She can be... charming?
The skeletal man smiled, and it took all of Giselle's will not to shudder.
A profound hunger overtook a Native American woman with a bodybuilder physique. She forced her fingers to pinch the nipples of her sculpted chest. Giselle licked her own lips, admiring the bulge in her biceps, and the spasms in her strong face.
Finally, some wild crap that doesn't involve some nameless goon looking like he's come off the set of Saw.
A pale white lady of slight frame lent her ear to the whispering of the top-hatted black man.
She then spoke in a dull tone, "Beautiful as you all are, The Church of Saturday has seen many beautiful women. It is passion, and animal sexuality, that ignites our fires."
Tristabelle's normally flawless posture took on a confused slouch. Her silky words failed to arrive. Instead, all that came was a very eighteen-ye
ar-old worthy pout.
The main character has been called to action! The hero's journey continues.
The hero's journey might end with a public beheading or death by pixie dust as Giselle snatched hold of Dusty and Tristabelle's arms.
The California babe was well aware her supernatural counterparts could use those arms to beat her into a fine paste. But the girls turned to each other with easy smiles.
Giselle dared to be daring and pressed her heart shaped lips against Tristabelle's first. Instead of being impaled on a spike, Giselle felt a spike of pleasure. A spike that was felt by the princess who squirmed against the lip lock.
I'm kissing a princess! Don't let your dreams be dreams, America.
"Hold on a dang minute," Dusty whined.
Giselle and Tristabelle's tongues met and a burst of raw passion flowed between the babes sounded by throaty grunts. The princess let Giselle take control, and the nerdy blond didn't disappoint. Dominating the Elvrina princess' mouth, Giselle passed heaps of sloppy spit down her fellow blonde's throat.
"All right, that's enough," Dusty grumbled.
Giselle never thought in a billion trillion years she could have a gorgeous princess be putty in her hands.
The slight woman was only shaking her head, "Shows are pretty, shows are sweet, but beneath the gloss is an emptiness that can never be filled.”
I’ll show her!
"Uh, Trusty, I'm gonna need you at least partially out of those gowns. Not because I'm a pervert or anything. I just wanna advance the plot of the main character, aka me."
"Last time I bared these was when I lost a stripdown match at a wrasslin' show," Dusty declared.
That sentence should surprise me. But it doesn't.
Dusty peeled her glittering green dress down enough to reveal tits that Giselle swore were Photoshopped even though this was real life.
In an act Giselle would never be able to remove from her head, Tristabelle spun with a flowing elegance. As she twirled, her dress' fabric disintegrated, paving the way to a nebula of blue sparkles. Blue sparkles that twinkled until melting away to reveal the hottest body to come out of Europe. An extraordinary ass was in a jeweled thong, and her flat stomach, toned legs, and breasts beamed beauty brighter than the orange sun.
"Shall this serve?" Tristabelle asked with her cupid's bow lips forming a smirk.
Giselle's cheeks were red with arousal, as she dove into Tristabelle's fantastic globes with hungering kisses. Ever a lover of big breasts, Giselle switched to devouring Dusty's orbs with something rivaling bloodlust. Though the Elvrina princess didn't appreciate being left wanting and forced Giselle into a groping of her royal rack.
Giselle focused on the pert nipples of Tristabelle, grinding and twisting them. As for Dusty, Giselle's teeth replaced her tongue, and the lust possessed eighteen-year-old nibbled the breasttacularly enhanced freshman without a hint of control.
"Oh good heavens! Giselle, perhaps would like to become my royal mistress."
Dusty bitched, "Why her? She ain't doing nothing I can't do ten times better! Ten times more extraordinary."
Ignoring Dusty, Tristabelle stated, "Giselle, I shall pay you in porridge and three copper pieces a week."
It was a testament to Tristabelle's hotness that Giselle considered the offer when she hated porridge. Her audition for royal mistress continued to go fabulously as her heart-shaped lips started to lay kisses all across Tristabelle's unblemished skin.
The tophated man whispered something to the slight woman, who then claps her hands for a stop to it all.
Horny as she may always have been, Giselle wasn't one to question a talking skull and immediately ceased her AVN award worthy performance.
Parched from lathering Trusty's breasts with spit, Giselle welcomed the glass of water Kabuso pressed into her hand.
"You will see, Belphegor," the skull spoke. Or sort of spoke. Perhaps spoke. His mouth never opened. His body never twitched. But Giselle just knew the words belonged to the skull. They weren't threatening. They weren't encouraging. They just were.
"Thank, ya'll, so much," Dusty expressed, her chipmunk cheeks rosy.
Why can't she be this nice all the time?
As if reading Giselle's mind, Dusty told her, "Good job, too! You got a tongue like my Uncle Baron's old horse."
I sucked those breasts to be acknowledged by a skeleton and compared to a horse.
The pale woman raised her glass towards Giselle, "Let your fate be your fate, and when it comes, I hope you never know."
Giselle complained, More faux deep bullshit, but met the toast nonetheless and gulped down a drink of water.
Chapter Ten: Constantina
The extraordinary young women arrived at a hallway in the ballroom building that was decidedly unspectacular compared to the rest of the building. Dim light barely illuminated the blasé flooring and the hardened faces of suit and sun-glassed guards. Despite the poor lighting the girls could spy the guards’ heavy weaponry artillery of guns and knives honed out of silver.
"Trista, honey," Sofi started, "you should know that Pavel Zykov, one of the cursed guys, just went POOF and died. I don't think he actually lived in our complex though. Because when he sent me that nude photo of himself, he said his place was in Brooklyn. Oh my god, what if that was his last picture ever! I could be haunted!"
Giselle watched Tristabelle chew on her lip, eyes closed, fingers rubbing her temple. It was a very human expression. But Giselle wondered what this very inhuman woman could be thinking. What Giselle thought was that Tryggyr squeezed a trigger and laid Zykov to rest. It was unfathomable to Giselle that the princess' stressed mind wasn't unpacking that scenario.
"I can't believe we gotta go through all this to suck some dick," Fleur complained. "There are hoes in Murray Hill getting twenty-five bucks and a dime bag to do what we gotta go to the ends of the earth for."
Now dawning on them that they've spent two days of battling and partying just to have an orgy, the other girls nod their annoyed agreement.
They hoped the end was near as they stood in front of a door made entirely out of obsidian.
A guard with bright green hair, bright green eyes, and a scar along his neck pushed open the heavy door. Tristabelle and Fleur led the way with fists clenched. But instead of the ominous Belephegor, the group emerged into an office strewn with shattered oak furniture, over-turned bookcases and a broken wall-length mirror pouring black blood into a stew that pooled around their amulet.
The amulet that lay split in two.
"Motherfucking shit!" Fleur exclaimed, about ready to stomp the amulet into more pieces.
Dusty folded her arms and put on the most magnificent of frowns. "Ain't there another way to hurry up and cure these bozos?"
"Are we out past your bedtime?" Fleur hissed.
Them's fighting words!
Dusty retorted with a foot stomp and a shout of, "I ain't got no bedtime! I'm a grown woman. I'm old enough to vote and sit in the audience of most daytime talk shows."
"Uh, where’s Belephegor?" Giselle wondered.
Sofi answered, "Maybe he got recalled back to Hell?"
"Or it could be my vexing brother, Tryggyr, has done something? Employed a demon sorcerer more powerful than the one that summoned Belephegor?" Tristabelle pondered, talking more to the shattered mirror than any of them.
"I don't think Wanda's plan would have worked anyway," Giselle offered, mostly to lighten the tense mood.
Sofi shook her head of red curls, "Well, fucking a rich guy is the solution to all my problems, so it just makes sense that fucking rich guys is the solution to this problem. But denying me my right to fuck a rich guy—it's offensive and anti-feminist."
Kidnapping, killing, torturing. A whole litany of offenses that should have everyone in a CIA detention camp, and it ended in failure. Not even with a big final battle against a demon boss. Just failure, bickering, and a glut of henchmen coming in to ponder their master’s disappearance. Giselle started to
feel dizzy.
Fleur put her foot through what was left of the desk with such ease it was like she was crushing a beetle.
Giselle surveyed the guards looking as helpless as the young women. "I feel like we're being messed with. Everyone is always a step ahead of us."
"If we miss the carnival at Hemera 'cause of this, somebody is getting beat!" Dusty professed.
Finally, the princess spoke to lend some order to the chaos of confused guards and disgusted teenagers, "You chatter like a group of unwed dowagers," Tristabelle lamented. "How shameful. I shall provide the solution forthwith."
What Tristabelle pulled out of her purse was a compact mirror inlaid with a floral pattern surrounding the familiar dancing woman Giselle had seen on the Elvrinas' outfits.
Yes, you're the hottest woman alive, but that's not gonna help us.
But then Tristabelle spoke to her reflection, "Magic Mirror, oh Magic Mirror, Constantina Elvrina, oh pretty pretty please."
Whatever was about to happen Giselle had the deep feeling it could top wolf people, bleeding mirrors, and telepathic skulls. She pushed aside her dizziness for the magical show Tristabelle had to be preparing. As the princess held the mirror out, Giselle peered over Tristabelle's shoulder to see the mirror reflecting back a purple haze. But then the mist swam into focus and what came wasn't Tristabelle's reflection, but a woman who looked like a glam model.
"Sister?" the woman spoke through long lips.
Sister? Another princess? Where is she? At the palace?
The elf-eared woman in question had wider eyes than Tristabelle, bejeweled eyebrows, a square jaw, and an older yet more sympathetic look than her little sister.
"Constantina," Tristabelle began.
Constantina, Tristabelle, Krisdane, Magilinda, Rodgir, Astrid, Tryggyr. I gotta ask the king and queen to name my kids.
"Tristabelle!" the woman's pink lips exclaimed. "Where are you? Krisdane and Astrid have flown to the border of the Corrupt Forest. Rodgir has knights all throughout the crown land, and you are nowhere to be seen."
Knights! They have knights!
Tristabelle grimaced, and Giselle remembered Tryggyr's words about an enemy of the state.