The Trial

by James Hunt

  Her focus on the problem seemed to wane a bit. Suddenly she didn't feel herself, as if she was watching her own body standing against a wall being indecisive about what to do, and desperately needing a good cock or two. A good Trent cock would be nice...

  She shook her head, and rubbed her temples. Her doppelganger did just the same in perfect synchrony.

  It was a shorter run to the outer wall from here across the garden. But she couldn't scale it with her, and she wasn't going to leave her behind now. Besides, the more she thought about Trent's cock, the more she suddenly wanted a twin sister.

  The Mischievous let go of the girl's hand and tried to push all thoughts she suspected weren't truly her own out of her head. It took a moment for the lusting to fade away, and her mind to clear up. If they went around the back of the main chapel, they should be clear. It was a longer route, but there was nothing along that route but the latrines. There were no patrols or reasons for stewards to be around there that she knew off – unless they needed the latrines, and she could handle them in that case.

  "I have a plan, but I need your help for it to work." She knelt down to the collapsed doppelganger. "I'm going to carry you on my back around the backside. But this bond between us is making it hard to tell what thoughts are mine."

  "I thought I was going crazy there for a moment. Glad it wasn't just me. If we think about Trent, and about rushing home to meet him. I think the urges will behave long enough to get us there." The Other Mischievous said.

  "Right. Trent cock for dinner. Let's go get some." She grinned and hoisted the girl up onto her back. She carried her around the gardens, around the main chapel and the library. They made good progress, and The Mischievous's disposition was almost turning giddy with all the fun thoughts running around her head now that she had a twin. But that fear still lurked deep in her stomach, and slowly it overpowered her thoughts about Trent and turned them into thoughts about Helrith. He would certainly notice his missing treasure. And he would most likely know who did it. There was only one obvious choice among all the residents of the Monastery. But the question is would he defy The Father to reclaim his secret possession, or would he take matters into his own hands?

  "I don't like where this is going." Her companion whispered as they skirted around the empty latrines. "Helrith will take swift revenge. We should leave, for good... after we say goodbye to Trent." She threw in conciliatorialy.

  "We tried that once, remember?" The Mischievous said to her twin. "We may be stronger now than before, but we're still no match for the Huanguard."

  "There are two of us now, remember? I just need a quick snack first... and a bite... and maybe something to eat as well."

  The Mischievous was grinning ear to ear as they rounded around the barracks to the side door. She missed having fun. And having a copy of herself would only make things more fun from here on out. But she had to take care of her twin first. If her dreams had been true all along, then Helrith had already half starved the girl to see what demon's blood does to a Zecairin when it is denied. If she wasn't bloodmad yet...

  "You!" Shamus shouted half in surprise and half in alarm. The Mischievous had been distracted and hadn't noticed him until she had almost run him down. "I came looking for you... what?" He started to say angrily until he realized he was looking at two Zecairin women with the same face. The Mischievous snorted and pushed a very violent image of sinking her teeth into the man's neck and savoring his screams of agony out of revenge for spoiling her daydream. But what she had thought was just a fleeting fancy manifested into reality when her copy leapt off her back with a snarl and sank her teeth into the man's neck as she tackled him to the ground. Blood sprayed out of the corners of the girl's mouth as Shamus's cries of panic were immediately silence by a crushed windpipe. The man squirmed and tried to fight back, striking a few blows to the girl's temples. But she clawed his hands to the ground and held him still as she ripped out his throat and drank deeply of his blood as it gushed out in rivers.

  The Mischievous stood cold faced and watched, disappointed. And a little jealous...

  Her twin wallowed in the carnage, writhing her naked body back and forth upon the gory scene as she licked her fingers clean of blood. Waves of perverse pleasure washed over her and she threw her head back to gasp erotically as an orgasm washed over her. It lasted a good long moment, all the while The Mischievous let her have her fill and kept a look out around the corner for any more surprises.

  "That was sooo good lover..." her twin breathed hotly on poor Shamus's cheek. "Pity you only have the one in you, I would gladly let you earn another." She cooed as she took the dead man's hand's and caressed her swaying body with it until they came to squeeze her breasts.

  The Mischievous grabbed a handful of blue hair and yanked the blood covered, naked Other Mischievous up. She slammed her against the wall, pinning her in place with her own body. Half, snarling, half cooing in delight the blood naked clone didn't protest, but grabbed her calmer self and kissed her deeply with blood smeared lips. Their hands grabbed and fondled each other frantically, each one trying to gain a moment of dominance over the other by finding that one spot that desperately needed a scratch at just that moment.

  But it was the swift knee to the gut that brought the crazed Mischievous to the ground gasping. And it was the elbow to the back of the head that dropped her to the ground and made her go limp.

  "I know, I'm sorry, I hate it when they do that to me too. It ruins a perfect mood." She apologized, and gathered up her limp self. "And I'm glad you're feeling better. But you just made a mess of things." She grumbled and carried her the rest of the way around the building and in the side door. Most of the Huanguard and stewards that resided in this section of the barracks were still out with duties. The Mischievous had a clear path to her room. Once inside, she unceremoniously dumped her cargo onto the bed. As much as she regretted having to do this, she went back out and closed the door behind her. She had a mess to clean up, but she couldn't drag her doppelganger around while she did it.

  "Poor, stupid Shamus" She muttered as she gathered up the body. If he had only waited in his room like she asked. Suddenly an idea came to mind, one that could possibly through Helrith off her trail. But it hinged on him not having returned to his study yet. Shamus was a skinny man, and thankfully light enough she could carry his limp body on her back. She backtracked as fast as she could without being seen.

  By the time she reached the still open window to Helrith's workshop, her legs were killing her. But so far it looked as if the fat man hadn't returned yet. With some difficulty she managed to shove the body inside and crawl in herself. Using the same trick as before she opened the secret door, this time being well out of line of sight of the trapped glyph. Taking some pride in her work she arranged the body inside the room and stripped him naked. She was sure Helrith would have some dark magic to determine what had happened to the man, and then her ruse would be undone. But then again, the precautions he took to protect his secret were almost... lazy. It seemed obvious to her now as she looked at the crime scene, that Shamus had somehow found the door, opened it without getting blasted, and thought he would have some fun with the chained up Zecairin. She got in a good love bite, regained some of her strength and made her escape... with his clothes.

  All in a day's work. She smiled to herself and quickly exited the room again.

  ****

  He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. Trent stared dumbfounded at the brazenness with which his roommate displayed, for anyone who walked in to see, her naked backside as she napped. His hand instinctively went to his head to grab his face and slide ever so slowly down it in an exasperated gesture. Was there no end to her mischief? He grumbled. But, given her name, he realized that was a stupid question. He ran his hand through his dark hair and sighed.

  "Oy, wake up." He said loudly and kicked the bed. The naked elf moaned and stirred a bit. "Time for dinner. I wanted to make sure you ate after that beating Jacob gave you."


  "Mmmm," she moaned again and rolled over to stretch. As her back arched upwards, her pert breasts stood at attention, and her toes curled upward. Trent saw for the first time the bloody mess smeared all over her front.

  "What did you do?" he growled angrily, and crossed his arms over his chest. The Mischievous's eyes opened slowly and she drank him in lustfully.

  "I had a snack," she pouted and licked her fingers clean. "You weren't here to help me scratch an itch."

  "Who was it?" Trent demanded and gave her a stern glare. But when their eyes met, and he saw that the irises of her eyes were still dark red, his body shifted ever so slightly to one side and prepared to throw her through a wall or two. Weapons were not normally permitted in the barracks, and Trent suddenly realized that was a stupid rule when bunking with a Zek.

  "Some steward..." she dismissed him and continued cleaning her fingers. "As if you haven't killed one or two."

  "They deserved it. This is different, it wasn't because I couldn't control myself." He leaned away from her. But she jumped up onto her hands and knees on top of the bed and crawled closer. Trent didn't dare move. He never took his eyes off that manic, red eyed glare of hers. The Mischievous breathed in deeply.

  "You smell." She grumbled, disappointed. "Of fear." she licked her lips clean and flashed a menacing grin. Trent swallowed, this situation was turning bad quickly. He couldn't remember if she could be pacified with sex when her eyes were red, usually he had to knock her out first. The first time took some doing, the second had nearly killed him and only after he got in a lucky shot, this time however...he doubted this time would be successful. He should run for the door. "If something's in your way... kill it. If you want something... take it. If someone tries to hurt you... teach them the meaning of the word. You humans lie to yourselves. You have too many useless rules that you break when holding too them becomes inconvenient." She sat up and arched her shoulders back, running her hands up her sides until they came to rest over her breasts in mock modesty that had the exact opposite effect. She had her tricks.

  "That's what separates us from the animals." Trent needed to keep her talking.

  "Says the wolf." She laughed. "You're so young! You have no idea what this world is really about." A subconscious snarl curled up Trent's lip.

  "I know enough of what this world is about. Enough to hate it. Enough to want to change it." He uncrossed his arms, tilted his neck to one side until the vertebrae popped, and leveled his cold blue eyes on her. The mirth slowly ebbed from her face. "I know that you aren't going to leave this place alive. Not because of me, but because you were never meant to. The only reason you're breathing now..." Trent subtly balled his hands into fists, but he saw that his words were reaching the person inside the demon. "...is because I got in a lucky shot, and it threw off their plans. Someone stronger than you wants to watch you run through a maze before they eat you. To them, you're nothing more than a mouse." That cognizant sparkle started to dull. Her eyes drifted elsewhere, and The Mischievous seemed to be lost in her own daydream for a moment. Trent took a wary step backwards to put some ground between them.

  The Mischievous stood up off the bed suddenly and Trent reflexively brought a hand up to block whatever she was about to throw at him... but didn't. The Mischievous gave him a condescending look, but ignored him as she shouldered past him to the footlocker and retrieved a spare robe from within.

  "Did you think I would hurt you?" She gave him a tsk. The malicious glare in her eyes said otherwise. She put her back to him as she pulled the robe over her body. Fully clothed, she took a seat in the only chair and crossed her arms over her chest as she stared out the window. Trent's confusion was only surpassed by his reluctant guilt for thinking the worst of her. When she finally met his gaze again, it was with that evil red glare that burned into his soul. "Aside from our first scuffle, have I ever hurt you? Have I ever betrayed your trust?" The words stung him more than he expected. The lesson Rad taught him about Zecairin elves and how they bonded gave more meaning to her simple statement. His own feelings towards her were... complicated. But this silly little drama that was unfolding between them was greatly overshadowed by what else he had learned from Rad.

  "You need to run away from here." He said at last under his breath. Trent didn't know why he was whispering. Perhaps it was because his own loyalties had been shaken; perhaps it was because the words seemed to be coming out of him without his permission. Whatever the reason, it made that hateful glare of hers melt but for a moment. As he digested her words he realized the malice she radiated under the effect of the demons blood wasn't aimed at him in particular, but came out uncontrolled. A great weight lifted with that revelation and he finally relaxed. Somehow, she was in control of her condition. Was there hope for her? The Mischievous tilted her head to one side as she regarded his change in demeanor.

  "Run?! You have no idea what he put me through. I told you only part of it..." she trailed off. Her bottom lips started to quiver, there was an internal struggle suddenly boiling to the surface. Trent calmly sat down on the edge of the bed. Whatever their fate was going to be after today, they needed to sort this out now or be in each other's way later.

  "I know you haven't told me everything. I know you have been lying this whole time as you search for answers." Trent crossed his hands before his chin and looked her dead in the eyes. "In the beginning I didn't trust you. I gambled that I could handle whatever you threw at me. But I was wrong, so very wrong. You scare me bad. I'm afraid of what you become when this takes you over. I'm scared... because my only choice is to kill you, and I don't want that."

  "Why don't you?" she scowled. Her nose was starting to involuntarily twitch. "This is your home. I'm your prisoner, your trainee, your responsibility."

  "That's a fucked rabbit, that is." Trent blurted out. His calm demeanor sudden broke and a yokel accent the Mischievous hadn't heard before took over. It almost made her lip twitch into a smile.

  "No one here comes here because they want to," he muttered. "Even me..." he took a long deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "But I tried to make a life of it. The shit I've learned since you came into my life knocked all that on its arse. This place needs to be burned to the ground... I don't know what he did to you. But I know it was horrible. I know what he did was real, and I know you remember every second of it."

  "Hornsdale happened because of him." The Mischievous breathed out despite herself. "Those humans died because he... he hurt me." the pain in her voice finally came out, and carried with it Hell's Wrath. Trent looked up from his chin startled. The Mischievous stared him down with that infernal fury. "Why did you let me live?"

  Trent deliberated. Her head leaned back against the wall and she regarded him with a contemptuous look – somehow he wasn't measuring up to whatever she was grading him by. Damaged... that's what she was. Underneath that silky smooth charcoal skin, those ruby lips, that exotic blue hair, and that pretense of affection and camaraderie was a mangled, scarred, tortured animal whose only bridge to sanity was an infernal quest for retribution. That Trent understood, more than he wished he did. Something in him long buried came out - the part of him he specifically came here to bury. It was the part of him that had abandoned the laws of mankind for something more savage, and natural.

  "I thought it fair to return the trust you put in me." He finally said. Damn, he cursed silently to himself. He shouldn't have used that word. He had just wanted to say that from the beginning to try and win her over, but there was a price to it. But the more he listened to her carry on, the more he realized he needed to be with her. Huanguard be damned, if they were harboring a sorcerer that was creating unstoppable monsters out of the Zeks, the whole world was fucked. It would take an alliance of all the other nations to destroy the blood-frenzied Zecairins, and such an alliance would never work.

  The door to the room opened, and The Mischievous looked at him from the hallway. This Zecairin was still in her training clothes, blood splattered an
d dirty. Even her skin was glistening from the sweat of exertion. Without another word she entered and closed the door behind her, locking it. Trent sat up straight and put his hands on his knees in a posture of authority, as he regarded her with a scowl. He glanced once to the Zecairin sitting in the chair across from him to make sure. No, this one was certainly real, there was no way that much emotional turmoil could be faked. But the one walking his way smelled real – blood, sweat, anxiety, lust... it was all there to the trained nose.

  "Hmm," He said and looked back to the robed Mischievous. Magic was something that continued to amaze him, but he hadn't the brain to wrap around how it worked, so he accepted much on dumb faith. Even so, he wasn't sure that's what this was.

  "Twins?" He ventured a guess. "That explains the mood swings." He jested. If it was true, then they had certainly played him for a fool. "Ahh, the Mischievous. Now I get it." Part of him was relieved that they decided to finally reveal their secret to him, he had never caught on that all this time she had a twin. But there was something different about this newcomer – no bloodlust, no maniacal nature trying to break loose. When she sat down next to him on the bed, she lifted a hand to his cheek and held him still while she leaned in. Reflexively Trent backed away, but not far enough to save him from the loving kiss she planted right on his lips.