Slow Burn

by Tamara Vincent

  “We are safe,” she said. “We have a roof over our head, and a bed to sleep in.”

  “Yes, and your beloved library,” Havisa said, bitterly. “Much good will the books do to us, when the Black Crusade comes and we’ll be all raped.”

  The brunette had a morbid imagination, and Renilla often thought she was not cut to be a nun.

  “We could simply recant and embrace their faith,” Gracia said. And then laughed out loud, to make sure it was clear she was joking. She was plump, with dimples and a cherubic mop of blond curls.

  Renilla gave her a hard look. “This is no laughing matter.”

  “That’s what I say we should do what the other nuns did,” Godelina said, “and leave this place. It does not mean we have to renounce our call. There are other monasteries, farther north, where the Black Crusade will probably never get.”

  Renilla frowned. “Our place is here, among the people, not holed up in some cave in the mountains, praying for our life.”

  “They say Bellegarde is going to fight,” Gracia said. “That they already stopped the Five Star banner at Tavin.”

  “Traveler's tales,” Godelina replied. She was Gracia’s older sister, and shared her hair, but was not as frumpy. “You should not listen to what strangers tell you.”

  “I trust more the swords of Bellegarde than our prayers,” Havisa snorted.

  “Havi!” Renilda snapped.

  “You really think that the four of us and the Bursar could make any difference?” the brunette asked.

  Gracia sighed. “They say the daughters of the Duchess—”

  The doors to the dormitory slammed open. The light of the lamp in the corridor cast a stain of gold on the floor and across the cots on which the girls were sitting. Two figures stood in the doorway. The girls froze.

  “The bell rang long ago,” a husky female voice said. One of the two figures walked into the room, taking long strides. Renilla squinted. In the half-light, she could make out an unknown habit, blue and strangely cut, and a cowl of a different design from the one the nuns of Beinot. The newcomer’s face was made up in dark hues, more like a harlot than a nun.

  “I see you novices show a healthy disregard for the rules,” the woman said. “I am pleased.” She squinted at Renilla. “What are you reading, girl? Chivalry romances? Ghost stories? Erotic poetry?”

  Renilla straightened her back. “This is Saint Rosia’s Compendium of Graces.”

  “Fascinating,” the woman said.

  Her companion joined her. She leaned on a gnarled staff, like a wizard’s, and her dress was a flimsy veil hanging from the silver rings in her nipples.

  “We are here to help,” the second woman said. “I am Gisla of Beaubois. And this is the new head of your order, Mistress Maeva of the Flame.”

  The girls looked at each other. “What does this mean?” Havisa asked, cautiously. “What Order of the Flame it is this you mention?”

  “There is no Order of the Flame,” Renilla said. And then she added, “Not that I know of,” because she had not yet read all the books in the monastery’s library.

  The woman that had called herself Gisla of Beaubois rapped her staff on the floor. Her lips moved, shaping strange syllables, and a network of thin blue lines lit up across the tiles, snaking in strange designs, around the legs of the cots and along the walls.

  “Sorcery!” Renilla shouted.

  Then the whole dormitory was engulfed in a flood of blue fire.

  Seventeen - Ghouls

  The Flamberge hissed and flashed in the night, and a head rolled on the grass. Black blood stained the snow. Liane took a step back, and found herself back to back with Giso.

  “Where do they come from?”

  The bitch growled and shook her head, and adjusted her grip on the handle of her double ax.

  The creatures had moved on them as soon as the moon had downed. They had caused the horses to flee, the panicked animals hurling themselves along the path, in a reckless, suicidal run. Liuva, that was mounting guard, had shouted a warning, and Liane and Giso had had the time to disentangle from each other and the blanked under which they had been keeping warm. Now they stood, both naked, both wielding their weapons.

  With a curse and a roar, Liuva milled her arms around, a flaming log in each hand, and kept the creatures at bay, and danced on her tiptoes out of the reach of their talons, rejoining her mistress and her partner.

  The creatures crouched and scurried around them, remaining outside of the circle of light and warmth cast by the fire. Their eyes blinked red as embers in the darkness, and they made strange clicking, chirping noises. They trampled the snow, moving in a slow circle.

  “The stories were true,” Liuva said.

  “That is why we are here,” Liane replied.

  Giso scoffed. “To be eaten by ghouls?”

  One of them came forward, suddenly, leaping across the fire. Liane had an impression of pale skin and shriveled, pendulous breasts, a mouthful of needle-like teeth. Outstretched hands, sharp claws.

  Liuva intercepted the ghoul in mid air, grappled it and pulled in a stranglehold. One arm around the skeletal neck, one knee in her back, and with a sickening creak, Liuva snapped the monster’s spine and let it fall on the ground. The creature thrashed and screeched. One of its companions, vaguely male, came to the rescue, or maybe just tried to use the diversion to strike. Liane stabbed it through the chest. It kept pushing against her, crawling along the blade, its claws trying to rip her face off. A thick, dark goo dripped from the wound. Balancing against Giso’s shoulders, Liane planted her bare foot in the creature’s groin, and pushed it back. It stumbled and fell.

  Liuva cursed. The ghoul she had broken was standing up again, swaying, its bust readjusting as its spine knitted back. It straightened, and hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Enough!”

  The monster turned, and let out a chirp, and then retreated, swaying on thin skeletal legs. Its companion, its wound already closed, crawled away on all fours.

  A cloaked silhouette approached from the darkness, and walked into the light. The creatures huddled around her, no longer afraid of the fire. Pale bodies, flaccid skin, lanky hair, male and female rubbing themselves against the legs of the woman, like dogs greeting their master home.

  “You must excuse my children,” she said. “They are confused.”

  With a sharp nail, she incised the inside of her left arm. Blood dripped from the cut, thick and dark. The creatures, already restless, grew frantic, and they pushed and climbed on each other to catch a drop of her blood, moaning and twittering happily. A few drops escaped, and sizzled on the snow.

  “It is done, then,” Liane said. She lowered her sword and stood there, naked, in front of Léa.

  Her wife was different. Her skin had the texture of alabaster, faint veins running under her white skin, and her gray hair was streaked with black. Her dress was in disarray, ripped and caked with dust and cobwebs. She caressed the head of the female thing crouching by her feet. The thing purred like a big cat. Léa’s fingers looked longer, each tipped with a sharp black claw. She smiled at Liane, and leaned her head to the side, showing the puncture mark, bruised and swollen. “Done and sealed, for all eternity.”

  She let the creatures behind, and came closer. She tossed her head, and her eyes sparkled red as she leaned against Liane, her hand cupping her pussy, and they kissed long and deep. Liane gasped, and pulled back, a drop of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

  “A small taste of you, my love,” Léa said. She opened her mouth, showing with pride her long fangs, She ran the tip of her tongue against the cusps, and chuckled. “For a while we’ll have to be careful.”

  Liane laughed, and kissed her again, her hand squeezing her wife’s ass, pulling her closer. Léa smelled of dust and of blood.

  When they finally let go of each other, Léa turned to Giso, a grin on her face. The beast-woman was standing naked, and still eyed Léa’s retinue with suspect.

&nbs
p; “You will catch a cold, bitch,” Léa said. “But your nipples are exquisite.”

  Giso growled.

  “Come,” Léa said, “There are rooms in Castle Nys.”

  Eighteen - Muriela

  Bélise was browsing a book, the screams in the distance telling her her aunt and Mistress Maeva had started working n the novices. She looked up from the page, at the frolicking going on on top of the Mother Superior’s desk.

  Sister Bursar was kneeling on top of the desk, over the remains of her dull black habit. Her hair fell over her face as she pushed between the open legs of Sister Arnelle, who sat astride the desktop, one hand on top of Bursar’s head, guiding her firmly in her exploration. At the other end of the desk, Sister Auriane was handling the glass dildo with gusto, plunging it into the Bursar’s dripping pussy.

  Sister Bursar was moaning and whining, and yet she kept eating sister Arnelle, each shove of the glass phallus pushing her tongue deeper between Arnelle’s folds. With her other hand, Arnelle was roughly massaging the nun’s left tit, while Auriane took care of the right.

  “She’s about to come,” Auriane chuckled.

  “Me too!” Arnelle laughed.

  With a sigh, Bélise put down her book and moved closer to the desk. From her bosom, she retrieved a silver and crystal vial, filled with a glowing blue fluid.

  “Turn her around,” she commanded.

  The two blue nuns pulled Bursar up and forced her on her back. She moaned and tried to turn back and keep going at Arnelle’s twat, but the sisters pressed her down. Auriane pulled the glass dildo out.

  “No,” Bélise said, removing the stop from the vial. “Leave it in. She’ll need it.

  Auriane laughed lewdly, and pushed the glass cock back in.

  The Bursar’s eyes were feverish as Bélise leaned over her.

  “What’s your name, darling?” Bélise asked.

  The Biursar licked her lips and shuddered, her boobs trembling. “Muriela,” she blurted.

  Bélise pressed on her wet cheeks and forced her mouth open, and poured the blue juice. Muriela choked, and coughed. Then she let out a gasp and a deep groan. She arched her back and her hand ran to the glass rod sticking out between her legs, and she started pumping it in and out, with increasing speed.

  Arnelle and Auriane laughed and clapped.

  Bélise left them to their diversions, and went back to her book. The girls in the dormitory were not screaming anymore.

  Nineteen - Threesome

  One wing of Castle Nys was still standing, and was a welcome refuge from the snow. Liane got the fireplace going, and crouched in front of the flame, hands stretched, enjoyig the warmth. Behind her, Liuva stretched luxuriantly over the bare mattress of a large four poster bed, the curtains ragged and dirty. Outside, the snow was falling again. Liuva chuckled.

  “Giso will enjoy her watch,” she said.

  Before Liane could answer, the beast-woman gasped, and jumped out of the bed. Liane stood in turn, hand on her sword hilt.

  There was a thick mist, seeping under the door of their room. The two women moved closer, and stood shoulder to shoulder as the mist flowed into the room, and gathered into a boiling cloud in the middle of the floor. It was so dark it seemed to suck the trembling light coming from the fireplace.

  Then it contracted, and it coalesced into a human form.

  Liane pushed the Flamberge into its scabbard. “That’s a neat trick.”

  Léa gave her a long-fanged grin. “I am learning.”

  “I can see that.”

  Léa was wearing a long black dress, with long ample sleeves and the waist marked by a knotted belt. Her hair was long, now, and completely black, woven in a braid that fell on her shoulder, covering the scar of her initiation, and resting on her bosom. There was a gold chain on her neck, with a thick ruby pendant, shaped like a tear, that sat smugly in her cleavage.

  She came closer, and Liuva moved aside.

  With a grin, Liane undid the buttons of her jacket, and pushed back her blue hair, exposing her shoulder and her neck.

  Léa smiled. Her hand closed on Liane’s breast. Her fingernails were black and curved like talons, and pricked the pale skin. “Make me like you,” Liane breathed.

  Léa sighed. “It would be so good to drain you to the last drop,” she said, her voice a low sensual purr. Liane placed a hand on her hip, rubbing the black velvet. “But I can’t.”

  Liane’s eyebrows rose. “Can’t?”

  Léa massaged the trapped breast. “It is the effect of the Flame, I think.” Liane shuddered. “I can smell it on you, and I know I can’t drink of you, or your ilk.”

  Liane frowned. “This is such a pity.”

  “I think the flame was somehow connected with Jurgen’s curse.”

  “Jurgen?”

  “Jurgen of Nys. The one who gave me the gift. I am now Léa of Nys.”

  Liane squinted. “I see.”

  Léa leaned closer. “This doesn’t mean we can’t have fun like we always had. Or better.”

  Liane chuckled. “I’ve never been fucked by a cloud of black mist.”

  “That would be novel,” Léa conceded. She glanced at Liuva. “With a little effort I could do you both at the same time.”

  Twenty – Blue Flame

  Gisla came with a deep moan. She staggered and Mistress Maeva embraced her and held her up, her body shuddering with wave after wave of earth-shattering climaxes.

  Gisla threw her head back, leaning on Maeva’s shoulder, and her ass ground against the nun’s crotch. The blue nun giggled.

  In front of them, blue flames were devouring the four novices. Her arousal growing, Mistress Maeva watched as the redhead who had been reading a book curled on her bed, her skin cracking and splitting, her hair a cloud of fire. The girl was screaming, her mouth open, her eyes boiling, but made no sound. There was only the roar of the blue flame and Gisla’s rhythmic moans.

  Rocking her hips against the sorceress’ ass, Maeva looked at the next bed, and was surprised in seeing the black-haired girl there intact, and suspended in the flame, hair flowing like she was swimming. Behind her, on the cot next to hers, the plump blonde was a blackened horror, thrashing in pain on the burning mattress. The other blonde, on the last bed, was again untouched, and watched in horror the scene unfolding in front of her.

  The two burning girls began to change. Skin stretched again on their crimson muscles, and their hair sprouted from their head in thick curls. They arched their backs and again their mouths opened in silent screams, their faces expressing the same obscene ecstasy that was possessing Gisla.

  Then, with a bang and a long hiss, the Flame was gone, and the blue lines on the floor faded, and with a final grunt Gisla leaned forward, using her gnarled staff for balance.

  “It is done,” she said huskily, panting.

  Maeva was still holding her. “Is it always like this? For you.”

  Gisla hummed and nodded.

  Twenty-one – Connections

  Giso scanned the darkness, her eyes two fiery slits. It was two hours till dawn, the coldest time in the night. She put her hands together and blew into them, for warmth.

  A fluttering of wings caught her attention. She picked her ax from where it leaned to the wall, and looked up, to a cloud of bats, whirling in the air.

  Giso crouched, her teeth set.

  The bats flew down towards her, screeching, and flapped in a tight circle around her once, twice. The third time they spiraled and twisted and then there were no more bats, but Léa, in along black dress, standing in front of Giso with a quizzical smile.

  “You have changed, Wife of the Miller,” Giso said.

  “For the better, I have changed.”

  Giso arched an eyebrow. “That remains to be seen.”

  Léa took a deep breath, her chest rising. She took a step forward. “I have fed for the first time,” she said. “It’s glorious.”

  Giso glanced at the lit window of the room where Liane and Liuva had shac
ked up.

  “Don’t be silly,” Léa snapped, following her gaze. She pointed out in the darkness. “There’s a shepherds’ shack, seven miles in that direction. They have a daughter. Exquisite. I fed on her.” She took another step forward.”She will come to me tomorrow night.”

  Giso hissed.

  “Put down your ax. My ghouls are guarding us. No one will disturb us.”

  “What do you want of me?” Giso asked.

  Léa’s features cracked in a grin. Her long fangs twinkled. “I want a drink of your blood.”

  Giso took a step back.

  “Only one gulp.”

  “Your shepherd girl was not enough?”

  “She was more than enough. Young, vibrant. It was far better than sex. And I won’t need to feed for weeks.”

  The ax was still gleaming between them. “Why then—?”

  “I cannot taste Liane’s blood,” Léa explained with a sigh. “The power of the Blue Flame forbids it. If I want to protect her, I need to find another way.”

  “By turning me into one of your ghouls?”

  Léa’s grin widened. “Almost, but not quite.” She pulled down the hem of her dress, baring her breasts. “I will drink of you and you of me, but I will not take enough to turn you.” She was very close, now. Her face had changed, as she spoke. Her jaw longer, her mouth much larger, and filled with sharp teeth. Giso’s eyes widened, her nostrils flared. “This will create a connection, between you and me. I will see through your eyes, listen through your ears. I will be able to talk to you, from a distance.” Léa gently pushed the axe out of the way. “Do you see why this is important? Through you, I will always be by my wife’s side.”