Chapter 23

“What?” Teatun exclaimed in confusion, looking to Myanna for clarification and finding none. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“She’s hundreds of years old, according to the report,” Quintus explained. “As her body tries to reach equilibrium, it will eventually pass the threshold of her normal life expectancy.”

“No shit, genius,” Teatun grunted before jabbing a finger toward Drusilla. “But she doesn’t look like she’s getting older at all.”

Quintus quirked a brow at the goblin’s sudden shift in tone, looking at Drusilla before turning his attention to Myanna. “Have you noticed any physical changes?”

Myanna knew he was asking about more than just how she looked. He was referring to sexually, knowing very well what kind of person she was and why she had absconded with Drusilla in the first place. “Outside of the vertigo, no. Her performance is as good now as it was the first time.”

Drusilla chuckled weakly with a little pink in her cheeks. “Is that the polite way of saying my tits don’t sag, and my pussy is still tight?”

“I meant more your libido and stamina in general,” Myanna replied calmly. Glancing over at the bed, she noticed that the figure she had seen only a moment ago was gone. As she glanced around the room to see if she had moved without her noticing, Quintus examined Drusilla more closely.

“Well, I suppose it could be something related,” the vampire admitted, adjusting his robe. “I can examine her after nightfall, run some tests, and let you know what I find.”

Myanna’s gaze settled back on Quintus. “What will it cost me?”

“Perhaps a small favor,” Quintus admitted with a casual shrug. “But the truth is that there is so little known about the vetala, much less their thralls, that it would satisfy my curiosity. I’ve not encountered anything recent in all of the archives I’ve ever had access to. The information is simply too outdated and anecdotal.”

“Very well,” Myanna agreed. “I will leave her in your hands.”

“Leave?” Quintus asked, his brows knitting together. Teatun also gave the cuirizu a look that held the same question. Drusilla looked ambivalent. She was the only one that knew what Myanna was off to do but was immensely unsettled by the prospect of being left in the vampire’s custody.

Myanna sighed, frustrated. “I have some business to attend to in Applewood and must leave as soon as possible.”

“I can examine her, but I’m no caretaker,” Quintus cautioned. “I cannot ensure her safety beyond a certain point, you understand?”

The cuirizu’s eyes settled on Teatun. “I want you to speak with Fenan and inform her of the situation.”

The goblin’s face contorted into a frown, unhappy with the circumstances and the speed at which everything was moving. “And what exactly is the situation? You haven’t told me shit.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Drusilla said quietly, reassuringly touching the goblin’s arm. “Go get Fenan, please.”

Myanna held a hand up to Quintus apologetically. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I’m uncomfortable with this situation,” the vampire replied dryly. “I do not like to feel uncomfortable.”

“Then I will be sure to compensate you appropriately for the inconvenience,” Myanna assured him. She didn’t know what she would be able to provide him that he couldn’t get for himself, but she was willing to make just about any promise to be on her way. Had Drusilla asked her to stay, she might have done it, which presented an unforeseen complication for Myanna. She turned and left without another word in case the blonde changed her mind.

As she quickly descended the tower’s stairs, she couldn’t keep herself from worrying about the potential fate of the woman she’d wanted to be the First in her garden. Cuirizu had Firsts as trusted administrators, favored breeders, or even champions to stand for them at times. If Drusilla was withering away from age, she was out a First before having properly established her garden. As she passed through the doorway to the stairwell on the ground floor, a sudden shock of electricity jarred her from her thoughts, sending her sprawling onto the cold stone floor.

“Well, it seems as though you didn’t expect to see me again so soon,” Ryanth scoffed, stepping out from the alcove beside the doorway, wand at the ready. “I’m beginning to suspect you might not be cut out for this.”

Myanna sneered as she got up to her hands and knees, taking it slowly to allow the tingling in her lower body to cease. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

Ryanth scoffed, keeping the wand trained on her. “Haven’t I? All I needed was for you to be on your way out so that your absence wouldn’t raise suspicion. Your corpse will be rotting at the bottom of a bog by the time anyone thinks to go looking for you.”

“What I meant was,” Myanna growled as she stood. “You didn’t come with a strong enough wand.”

“We’ll see,” Ryanth snarled, gripping the wand tighter.

Whirling around to face the man, Myanna threw out her left hand, fingers already positioned for the spell she wanted. “Jisipar majia!”

As the lightning erupted from the end of Ryanth’s wand, it collided with Myanna’s counterspell. It was a generalized dispel, which against higher circles of magic wouldn’t have been as effective, but the fact that Ryanth’s wand hadn’t cooked her insides on the first shot had told her it was more than enough. What she didn’t account for was the magical sympathy with the mark. Instead of merely countering the spell and causing it to fizzle out, the dispel seized the bolt and broke it into unstable threads of green that discharged harmlessly around her. Likewise, the wand briefly sparked green before losing its magical charge entirely.

The cuirizu didn’t stop and think about the effect, snatching the whip from her hip and snapping the non-magical stick from Ryanth’s hand. As the hand recoiled in pain, Myanna cut the arc of the whip short to lash down around his ankle and rip it out from under him.

Ryanth yelped with surprise as the cuirizu reeled him in like a prize catch. He flailed around, trying to get one hand on the door frame while reaching down to his belt for another magical trinket. Myanna was much stronger than him, causing the gap between them to close much faster than he’d anticipated. Now on his stomach, Myanna leaned down, looped the barbed whip around his neck, and bent him backward in a painfully uncomfortable position for his spine.

As he struggled for any form of leverage, Myanna reached down to the hand that had retrieved something from his belt. Turning it over, she saw what appeared to be a pair of brass knuckles, albeit of black metal. The runes across the knuckles told her it had some form of fire enchantment within it.

“You might have fared better had you led with this,” Myanna commented, bending his arm uncomfortably, almost to the point of breaking.

Ryanth let out a hiss of pain, looking up at her as best he could from the corner of his eye. “My brother will eat your fucking heart for this.”

“For defending myself?” Myanna scoffed. “I don’t think so. Sano may be cross with me for roughing you up, but I doubt it will go further than that.”

Myanna leaned down, pressing her cheek to the side of his head as she whispered into his ear. “And after I drain his balls, I doubt he’ll even be slightly annoyed.”

Ryanth opened his mouth to speak, but Myanna silenced him with a jerk of the whip. Blood began to trickle down the front of him where the thorns bit deep into his flesh. Myanna grinned wickedly. “Today is your lucky day, though. I’m in a hurry, you see, and I don’t have the time I’d need to properly ravage you as repayment for this insult. So I’m going to let you off with a warning.”

His eyes narrowed on her hatefully, but he didn’t attempt to speak. Myanna nuzzled the side of his face. “To be absolutely clear: this isn’t mercy. I would love nothing more than to hear you squeal as I ruin that little ass of yours. Make no mistake, I would positively dismantle you long before granting you the release of death, but I have a schedule to keep.”

Releasing him from her grip and the coils of her whip, Myanna turned to pick up the satchel she’d dropped. “You had better keep your distance from me, Ryanth, or no amount of threats involving your brother will save you from me. You’re exactly the kind of bitch I like to grind under my boot. You give me an excuse to do so at your peril.”

Ryanth remained on the floor kneeling, examining his wrist and the front of his bloodstained tunic. Myanna pulled a small blue vial from the satchel and tossed it to him, which he barely caught. “Drink that and clean yourself up. You’re pathetic.”

Myanna could feel the daggers he stared into the back of her skull as she left the tower, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. Though she was sure it would come back to bite her, there were many things she had to handle before even getting to the point of concern about it. As she placed the whip back on her hip, she flexed her left hand a few times, wondering what other unexpected effects it might have with spellcasting in the future. If everything went smoothly, she hoped to get a primer from Voss about the abilities contained within it.

Forestwalking from the red maple she had fostered in the bailey to a promising location she had seen during her first jump, Myanna was able to locate an overgrown grove of apple trees at the edge of an abandoned farm. Most of them were in poor health due to damage sustained from a recent battle, but there was one large enough to get her where she needed to go. Each use of the spell was easier than the last in a way that Myanna didn’t expect. There was an ease of use that came with the repeated casting of any spell, but something about this one felt like she had used it many times in her life despite having just learned it.

Myanna could feel the slight difference in the sun’s position on her skin as she emerged from the thick apple tree in the curated grove in Applewood. Its odd shape forced her to turn slightly to squeeze out of it, but otherwise, the spell had worked without a problem. Brushing debris from her arms as she stepped into the open, the cuirizu took a moment to get her bearings amid her new surroundings. Once certain of her position, she started walking toward the ruined manor house. She couldn’t imagine Belias lowering himself to staying in a quaint local inn if he didn’t have to.

As she crested the hill, Myanna saw a camp of Abyssal soldiers sprawled out in front of the entrance to the underground ritual chamber. Much of the rubble that had filled the entrance, making it inaccessible, had already been cleared to grant workers passage with whatever they could find inside. Rubble was discarded onto one of several piles while the remains of the cultists had been laid out in rows away from the camp. The corpses were well into the stages of decomposition, but it didn’t stop the two workers overseeing them from stripping them of whatever was valuable.

She spotted a second camp atop the large hill outside the manor house, with a crew of workers looting it of whatever Myanna had missed the first time. More importantly were those that had begun work on rebuilding, shoring up the structure of the foundation with magic while replacing broken supports. Myanna decided that would be the camp where she would have the best chance of finding Belias before descending the hilltop to make her way to the next.

When she arrived at the camp outside the manor house, everything was awash in sunset colors. Golden hour always cast her in a favorable light, giving her dark skin a healthy glow that most found enticing. Many heads turned in her direction as she walked through the camp. Most recognized her, while only a few seemed familiar to Myanna.

“What are you doing here?” Captain Steinbach asked from a chopped log next to a cooking fire. “No one told me you’d be coming.”

“Not surprising,” Myanna remarked as she approached. “I need to speak with Belias. Where is he?”

The captain stood to meet her, his hand resting on the pommel of his weapon as he began to suspect that her visit was not a cordial one. Though human, he was a seasoned veteran with good instincts honed throughout countless battles. “Depends on what this is about, but I doubt he’s going to want to see you.”

“We’ll let him decide that,” Myanna countered. “Tell him I’m here.”

“No,” Steinbach said, shaking his head slowly. His posture shifted slightly as he stood his ground, prepared to draw his weapon if she gave him reason to. “I don’t think I will.”

Myanna’s eyes narrowed as their gazes met, slowly realizing that the moment he’d adjusted his posture, several of the men behind her had stood as well. With a glance behind her, she could see that each of them had a similar stance to his. None had drawn their weapons, but all of them were prepared for a fight if that was what it came to.

“Stand your men down,” Myanna cautioned Steinbach. “Before you make a mistake. I have no quarrel with you.”

“A mistake?” the captain scoffed. “I don’t work for you. I work for---.”

“Olcaru.” Myanna cut him off, taking a step closer to the man to emphasize the difference in their height. “Belias may have been the one to pay the Orbonne Company, but it was on her behalf.”

Steinbach’s looked her over before glancing at the rest of his men. His commitment to standing in her way was wavering. Myanna reached up to the glove on her left arm, unfastened it, and pulled it down enough to reveal the mark. “I’m here to return him to Willowridge promptly.”

The captain’s thick brow rose slightly as he held a hand up toward his men. Her being a member of the inner circle changed things for him. He wasn’t about to take orders from her, but he couldn’t do much to stand in her way either. Even if she was lying through her teeth, which she had been careful not to do, attacking her would be bad for him in the long run.

“Alright,” Steinbach relented, jerking a thumb toward the manor house. “You win. He should be in the study.”

Myanna smirked as she pulled the glove back up and refastened it. “A wise decision, captain.”

His eyes didn’t leave her as she continued past him and every soldier that had taken notice of their exchange. As she approached the front doors of the manor, which had recently been restored, the guards posted exchanged glances.

“Gentlemen,” Myanna acknowledged them cordially. She didn’t stop or slow down to wait for them to decide on a course of action. Instead, she breezed past them, pushing the doors open and stepping inside as though she belonged there.

The foyer had suffered a lot of damage in the collapse of the ritual chamber, with the entire left half of it sloping to one side with large cracks running along the floor, up the walls, and across the ceiling. It made for a strange contrast against the trappings of wealth that had been left behind. Some of Belias’s workers had attempted to re-hang paintings and tidy the room, but it ended up making it look more ridiculous. A lone guard was posted to prevent any tampering or theft. When asked where the study was, he provided her directions upstairs and advised her to be careful where she stepped.

When she arrived in the hallway he’d directed her to, she understood his caution. The rooms on the left side of the long hall had all sunken a few feet, tilting away from the rest of the building in places. The rooms on the right appeared undamaged. The second door on the right was where she had been directed. As she reached for the door latch, the sound of voices inside gave her pause.

“It’s not here, master,” a female voice said apologetically. “We can’t be sure that it ever was.”

“It’s here!” Belias argued angrily amid the sound of shuffling parchment. “It has to be. There’s nowhere else that it could be.”

Myanna heard the creak of a chair before another voice spoke, this one male. “Master, nearly all of the rubble has been cleared at this point, and there’s no sign of it.”

“You’re not looking hard enough,” Belias fumed, throwing something across the room that heavily hit the wall next to the door. “Check the other chambers! There could be a secret door in any of the rooms up here.”

“Nearly half of the building is still unstable,” the female replied timidly. “We would risk undoing all our progress in a collapse.”

Belias made a noise that sounded like a whine crossed with a growl. “Then go faster! Order all crews on double shifts, and work the slaves until they drop!”

“Master,” the male began hesitantly. “With all we’ve done thus far, we would have detected its aura by now.”

There was a long pause. Myanna imagined Belias was giving the man a withering glare, but it was impossible to say for certain. The ritual master cleared his throat. “Yes, well, magical auras can be manipulated. You have your orders. I want reports every hour on your---.”

“Someone’s at the door,” a raspy voice growled in Abyssal, cutting across the conversation abruptly.

Deciding that the announcement was as good an invitation as any, Myanna pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Myanna!” Belias sputtered from behind a large, ornate mahogany desk. His forehead glistened with a film of sweat despite the room temperature being rather tepid. His face was redder than usual from the exchange she’d been listening in on. The cuirizu’s eyes darted around the room quickly, taking stock of the occupants. She recognized the male and female as members of Belias’s bootlicking clique but couldn’t spot the source of the third voice.

“Who let you in here?” The male demanded, jumping to his feet in an instant with a spell at the ready, wreathing both his hands in an eerie glow. The woman followed his lead, her eyes glowing with the same unholy energy.

“What do you want?” Belias growled, emboldened by the presence of his lackeys leaping to his defense. “You’re interfering with---.”

The man’s eyes settled on the portion of Olcaru’s mark that rose above her long leather glove. His eyes widened in disbelief while each of the lackeys awaited his command. “No. This can’t be.”

“Master?” The man asked, his hands faltering as he glanced back at Belias.

“You’re coming back with me to Willowridge immediately,” Myanna declared as she took another step closer. “By force, if needed.”

The woman stepped in front of Myanna, forming a vicious dagger of pure unholy energy in one hand with a cursed word in Abyssal. Before she could use the weapon, the cuirizu pointed two fingers at her. “Jeznuda!”

Just as it had with the dispel she’d used on Ryanth, the mark supercharged the spell as it was cast. Though Myanna had expected it this time, the results were still surprising. Every shred of the woman’s clothing, from the dark, loose-fitting robes to the lacey lingerie beneath, was peeled from her body as if by some overpowering wind.

Stopped cold by the sudden loss of her clothing, exposing her young pale flesh to everyone in the room, the woman stared at Myanna in shock. The cuirizu took firm hold of her chin and drew her close as she whispered a spell against her lips. “Dezajo Urjenche.”

Myanna captured the woman’s lips, her tongue invading her mouth as the eromagic took hold from within. The woman’s eyes briefly widened as her body went rigid. Then, as they closed and her body relaxed, she dropped the spell and let out a long sultry moan. Myanna’s tongue danced with the horny lackey’s as the magic caused a nearly overwhelming lust to form within her. Finally, the cuirizu broke the kiss, prompting an immediate whimper of longing from the woman. A thin strip of saliva stretched between their lips before vanishing. Myanna licked her lips as her gaze shifted back to the men, the woman nearly falling to her knees before the cuirizu.

“What did you do to her?” the other lackey demanded in that same tone as before, vastly overestimating his importance. The woman flipped her long, brunette hair to one side as she began grinding slowly against the leather-clad leg of the cuirizu while one hand squeezed and pinched at her breasts.

“P-please,” she gasped, her pussy leaving wet streaks on the leather as her hips rocked back and forth. “Please, fuck me.”

Myanna motioned to the male lackey with one hand. “I would worry less about what I’ve done to her and more about what might happen to her if you cast that spell you’re holding.”

The male shot a pleading look to Belias for him to step in, but the ritual master didn’t take his eyes off of Myanna. His expression was surprisingly impassive. As the two stared each other down, the woman continued to grind and thrust, her pace quickening as her need for satisfaction intensified with every passing moment. Eventually, the arousal that had spread throughout her body would become a painful burning sensation from within. Only vigorous fucking or masturbation could stall it, and only the satisfaction of sexual release could undo it.

“Release her,” Belias requested. “So that we may speak in private.”

“Master!” The man objected, only to go quiet with a silent command from the ritual master. Myanna let the moment extend longer as the woman humped her leg like a dog, pleading for someone to give her what she needed as her lust soaked her inner thighs.

“Very well,” Myanna finally agreed, releasing the woman from the spell with a brief gesture. The woman gasped as if awakening from a nightmare before stumbling away from the cuirizu in awe. She and the other man reluctantly made for the door, stepping out with a final fearful glance back at Belias.

“Alright,” Myanna pressed, crossing her arms over her bountiful breasts. “Speak quickly.”