Murdering Her Light

by Michael Clement

  It was cold underground, and I didn’t like it.

  But, if I was going to become powerful, this was my path.

  The stairs ended at another door with a ward above it. Like the last, I tried the door and then walked into the room.

  Instantly, I stopped.

  The room was filled with computers. The old kind that were the size of soda machines. There had to be thousands of them, stretching as far as I could see.

  Electronics hated me.

  The machines, hummed, chirped and spat electrical noises in a thunderous din. Cables ran up the walls, down the floor, over and around the devices.

  I didn’t move. I was petrified that I would destroy whatever these machines were doing.

  Spiders scurried between the machines, flipping switches, turning crank wheels, and pushing buttons.

  I didn’t see a monitor anywhere. The only feedback that the machines were giving was through a ticker-tape dispenser that hummed and chattered incessantly.

  I waited, expecting my magic to flare up uncontrollably to destroy their machines. If that happened, I was going to run and never stop.

  But, nothing happened.

  Instead, I felt a pressure on the back of my neck, but nothing more.

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered. Tori’s new tattoo was keeping my hatred of electronics under control.

  Zebulon scurried up to me, appearing amongst the computers, almost like magic.

  “Don’t touch anything,” he hissed. “Where are the guards?”

  “I don’t know,” I explained. “This isn’t my mess.”

  Zebulon scowled.

  Finally, he said, “Follow me.”

  He led me through the twisted maze of machines. I stepped carefully over cables and made sure not to touch anything.

  Amazed, I couldn’t believe that my magic was under control. I was so used to destroying any electronics that I came in contact with.

  “What is all of this?” I asked.

  “One of my projects,” he explained, as we walked past a massive waterwheel that seemed to be one of his sources of power. I saw several objects that I assumed were generators from the snapping of electricity on the little prongs on top of them.

  Then, we crossed a bridge and went down another set of stairs.

  We entered a more comfortable lounging area. A naked female Shadar like Zebulon looked up at me. She was sitting on a sort of lounging chair that allowed her body to rest under her, while her spider legs sprawled out on each side.

  Unlike Zebulon’s red tones, her tones were a violent pink. And, she was much smaller than Zebulon.

  “This is Comfort,” he said.

  “Comfort?” I questioned.

  “Do you have a problem with my name?” the female Shadar asked, standing up.

  “No,” I said, holding up both of my hands splayed outwards.

  Unlike Zebulon, she was sleek with light black skin and dark black hair. Comfort wore a pink top that cinched at her waist with a flowing sash. Curved daggers in ornate sheaths rested in her belt.

  “Truth,” Zebulon began, making Comfort smile. Apparently, she found my name as amusing, as I found hers.

  Zebulon started again, “Truth will be training with us, to be the next Sorceror of Burning Tree.”

  “Over my dead body,” Comfort instantly spat out.

  Instantly, I felt her magic strike at my mind.

  My neck tattoo grew warm, almost radiating heat, but unlike Zebulon’s lust attack, hers didn’t bother me.

  Grinding her teeth, Comfort drew her daggers and prepared to attack me.

  “Comfort!” Zebulon cursed, “Stop!”

  “No,” she insisted. “I am going to gut this little human pig. No one takes what is mine.”

  “Comfort,” Zebulon insisted, sliding his bulk in between us. “We are going home.”

  The words galvanized the little Shadar.

  “Home?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Zebulon vowed. “But, only with Truth’s help.”

  Comfort scowled. “Why?”

  Slowly, she dragged her daggers back and forth against each other, as she thought about how tasty I must be.

  “She can read the manuscripts,” he explained.

  “Lies,” Comfort insisted. “Let me cut her up. I can turn her flesh into a delicious fillet of meat for your lunch.”

  Zebulon licked his lips. Then, he realized that I was watching, and, that he still needed me.

  “No,” he said, with a taste of mourn in his voice. “No, we are going to train her to take over, after we leave.”

  Comfort sheathed her daggers, rolled her eyes, and plopped back onto the sofa.

  “Fine,” she hissed. “But, if she fails. I am going to eat her.”

  “Of course, my love,” Zebulon crooned, kissing her cheek.

  Then, his beady eyes lit on me, as his hands slipped down behind Comfort. He began making caressing moves, which made the females eyes flutter.

  “When I am finished with her lesson, I will make you come,” he promised.

  “Promises,” she moaned. “Always promises.”

  Removing his gooey fingers, he smiled and turned away.

  “Follow me,” he instructed, as he sucked on his fingertips like he was a child eating cotton candy.

  I hated Shadar.

  - 20 -

  “Take off your clothes,” Zebulon instructed, as he sat in a comfy chair. We were in his workshop. Books covered the walls and strange devices lay all over his workbench.

  “No,” I said. There was no way I was standing naked in front of this creep.

  “I need to look at your existing tattoos and patterns,” he informed me. “So that we can discuss your future.”

  I couldn’t come up with a good way to argue about that.

  Removing my cloak, I set it on a little table, as I turned my back on the Shadar.

  Then, I successfully unlatched the cloth. Excited that I finally figured out how to work it, I unwound the material, until it pooled at my waist.

  “Keep going,” he instructed, making my teeth hurt. I hadn’t wanted to take it all off, but it seemed like I was going to. I took all the cloth off, except for my bra and panties.

  “Those also,” he pointed out.

  If I disagreed, he might not teach me.

  I wanted to have his power.

  Unhappily, I slipped out of my bra and panties and stood naked before the Sorceror.

  “Your breasts are too little,” he pointed out with one of his talons.

  I kept my mouth shut, determined to get this bastard to give me his magic.

  “And, you have love bites all over your body,” he grumbled, pointing here and there.

  I smirked. Last night had been fun.

  I hadn’t expected to enjoy it. But, I had.

  “Turn around,” he ordered, twirling his fingers, as he put on a pair of spectacles with the dozens of lenses on them. He almost looked like an eye doctor.

  Click, click, click went his spectacles, as he looked at my marks through different color lenses.

  “The Gray Walker prayer on your inner left arm allows you to understand other sentient’s languages and respond in kind,” he mused.

  I looked down at the Arabic words, happy to finally know what they were.

  “The curse on the back of your left hand is flames, of course,” he grunted, as he continued to study me.

  “You have plenty of Gray Walker gobbly - guck scrawled all over your flesh, but this mark is very interesting,” he reflected, reaching out and touching the skin right above my ass.

  “Hey,” I complained, not knowing what he was talking about. I did not have a mark right above my ass.

  “Hold still,” he growled. “I have no interest in fucking a human with massive tits.”

  Then, his fingers went back to prodding my skin.

  “It is a lock,” finally deduced. “It is what the other uses to twist the universes.”

  His words chilled my
soul.

  Someone else controlled the twisting.

  Shivering, I let him continue.

  Standing upright, he continued to investigate my skin.

  “You have a jinx here,” he said, pointing out what I thought was a blemish. It was on the skin between my right thumb and my pointer finger.

  “ Hmm ,” he said, as he flipped lenses again.

  “Oh,” he said. “How interesting.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It lets you intrigue another creature,” he explained. “It is a small, almost powerless curse that lets you influence another creature with only a touch. They will become more prone to listen to you. Repeated contact will sway them from hating you, convincing them to like, and with enough influence, love you.”

  He checked the rest of my fingers.

  Kneeling, he checked the flesh between my toes.

  Scuttling around me, the fucker even bent me over and even inspected my ass.

  “Very good,” he said, standing up.

  Then, he cast a spell. Violent black flames burst into life on his palm, as I fell to the floor, terrified. I had no idea how to fight him.

  Throwing the ball at my clothes, he burnt them to ashes while I watched. Even my warm cloak went up into flames.

  “You are no longer a Gray Walker ,” he insisted.

  Finding my voice, I said, “I am her apprentice.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “But, now you are mine as well.”

  “She can teach you how to become invisible and how to heal,” he said. “I will teach you how to fight.”

  Looming over me, he said, “And, I will teach you how to kill.”

  Scuttling backward, he sat down on his chair. “Do you want to become powerful?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, as I sat on the rock floor, naked.

  “Do you want to men to fear you?” he asked. “Do you want to bend their mind to your will? Do you want to be able to destroy them with just a look ? ”

  “Yes,” I replied, horrified that deep down in my soul, I wanted everything that he was offering.

  “Walkers travel the wastes of Texas, healing the sick and blessing the masses,” he said. “I am a Sorceror, and the difference between Gray Walker s-- and Sorcerors--is that we don’t ask permission to do anything. If we want a woman, we take her. If we want what you have, we take it. We don’t serve the masses, they serve us.”

  “Then why do you bargain?” I asked, as I covered my breasts with my arms, chilled to the bone, as goosebumps traveled up my back.

  “Because if we break the peace between the Confederacy and the Walkers, it will mean war,” he explained. “Plus, Walkers would stop coming to Burning Tree, and we need their blessings.”

  Then, leaning forward, he said, “So, if you want something that is illegal... don’t get caught.”

  “Turn around,” he commanded.

  I shifted on my cold feet, putting my back to him.

  He reached over and touched the flesh just above my ass.

  This time I didn’t flinch.

  “The man who put this spell on you understood that. With just a thought, he can wrench you free of your world and switch places with you,” he told me.

  “He doesn’t care what you want, just what he wants,” Zebulon said.

  The giant spider slipped closer to me, sliding his other hand onto my stomach while his first hand stayed on my back with his thumb pressing into the spell that had changed my life. I could feel his turquoise rings digging into my stomach, as held me tight.

  “I can remove it,” he whispered.

  “Do it,” I hissed.

  “It is going to hurt,” he mused. “A lot.”

  “Take it out,” I insisted.

  He leaned over, putting his lips next to my ear. “I want to hear you scream,” he told me. “That is the price for helping you. Don’t hold back--not even one delicious little bit -- or I will stop.”

  I flinched.

  God, he was one sick fucker.

  Then, then one of his talons sliced into my back, as his arms held me pinned.

  I screamed loudly and jerked, trying to get away from him.

  “Oh my god,” I moaned, as he gripped me tightly.

  His talon sank in a little deeper, wedging my flesh open further.

  My screaming continued, as another leg ripped my back open wider. My body shook and quivered, sweat dripped down my body, as Zebulon feasted on my agony.

  Blood poured down the crack in my ass and pooled on the floor, as more of his legs wrapped around me to stop me from moving.

  My legs began to quiver uncontrollably. Without his legs wrapped around me, I would have collapsed.

  “Oh, Yes,” he quivered, as he drove his talons in deeper. The crazy fucker was getting off on my misery.

  I lost control of my bladder, peeing on the floor, as Zebulon chuckled in glee.

  Ripping me open wider, he laughed, as I screamed in torment.

  “Oh God,” I cursed. “Oh, God.”

  Then, I felt his talon scraping on something hard.

  With a yank, he pulled it out and moved so that I could see it.

  Between his talons, a gray stone throbbed with power.

  “This is an anchor,” he instructed, as sweat dripped down my face. “The man who placed it you didn’t care about you. Open your fingers.”

  I held my shaking hand up, letting the bastard drop the stone into it.

  “Keep it safe,” he said. “With it, you can find him.”

  Then, he dropped me, letting me fall into the blood and piss at my feet.

  Before I blacked out, he said, “Tomorrow, I will teach you how to ensnare men’s minds and make them your toys.”

  “I hope you survive my training,” he mused. “Your screams are delicious.”

  - 21 -

  I woke up, sprawled out on my stomach, as someone stitched up my back. Groaning, I cursed. “Fuck, that hurts,” I bitched.

  “Sit still human, or I will stitch your asshole together,” Comfort taunted.

  And, I had a feeling that she meant it.

  So, I lay on my stomach and tried to lie still, as she slid her needle into me and pulled the silk tight. Tears dripped down my face, but I didn’t know what else to do.

  “Your grubby Walker magic will heal you up nicely,” she mused. “The bleeding has already slowed down.”

  Sticking the needle into me a little farther, she pulled another stitch closed.

  “Only a few dozen stitches more,” she cackled with glee, as I took a deep, shuddering breath.

  Somehow, I could feel her eating my pain... like her mate had eaten my screams.

  I forced myself to calm down and ignore the pain.

  It was hard, but I didn’t want to feed Comfort.

  Tears continued to fall from my eyes, and I knew that no matter what I did, it was still going to hurt, but maybe I could summon a little dignity.

  The next two stitches went deeper.

  Nope, not going to happen.

  A moan slid from my lips, as I tried not to scream.

  “Delightful,” she rasped. “Your pain has a delicate fragrance to it that is simply unearthly.”

  She pulled the stitch tight.

  Then, she cracked my ass hard.

  “Get off of my table, bitch,” she hissed.

  Knowing that she would use any excuse to hurt me, I crawled off of her bloody workbench.

  Comfort grinned. Her shirt was speckled with my blood. Slowly, she brought her bloody fingers up to her lips and licked them clean.

  “I need clothing,” I said.

  Comfort pointed to the left.

  There, on a sofa was a black dress.

  “My husband dictated that from now on, you should only use the black door to enter his domain for your lessons. He expects you tomorrow at 9am sharp,” then, with a wicked grin, she said, “You are to descend the stairs naked... until you have earned the privilege of clothing. The only thing that he wants to see on
your body is the necklace that you are already wearing.”