Magical Stew

by Barbara Hodges

  He laughed knowingly, and she felt her face grow hot. “I do not care for a stroll around my prison. Thank you very much.”

  Irritated, she moved to stand between him and the window, letting the late sun highlight the shadow of her body. His gaze moved over her, paused at her breasts, and she felt her nipples harden. Oh, yes. You will be mine, Christian Samuels. His pupils enlarged and her breath came fast.

  Then a cold smile twisted his lips and he stepped around her and stared again out the window.

  Cold shock gripped her heart—and then fiery rage. A killing incantation formed in her head and she pointed a trembling finger at him.

  “Cease.” The word flared inside her, singed her blood and she pressed her hands to the sides of her head and moaned.

  “I’m sorry. Release me.”

  The dark sound in her head went on. “Once I have the child, then you may do what you wish, but until then he will live.”

  “I understand, my Lord.”

  “No. I think you do not. I tire of these games. The man will not come willingly to you. Say what is needed.”

  “But, Lord?”

  “It is my command.”

  “Yes. Lord.” The pain ceased and she turned to meet Christian’s hot, glaring eyes.

  “Rhonal tightening the.chain?”

  “Just a reminder of what is to be.” She came closer to him. “Christian, I have been patient, but I will have your seed. It will be my body the child of prophecy grows within and not that of the bitch Mirabella.”

  “Do not speak her name with your filthy lips.” Anger turned his cheeks dull red.

  She held out her open hand. A rose blossomed inside of it “I hold her life.” Staring into his eyes, she clenched her hand into a fist. When she opened it, the rose had been reduced to black cinders. She blew softly into her hand, the cinders disappeared. “What will you do to save her?” She watched the blood leave his face and smiled slowly.

  “Mirabella serves the Goddess…I serve the Goddess. We are not without power. And with the coming of the one with the blood of Sarunos…”

  “The Goddess.” Katarina laughed. “Her power is that of a lamp to the sun where my dark lord is concerned. And the other…she has already been seen to.” She reached to caress his cheek. He went rigid at her touch. “Mirabella will never carry the child, but we will let her live, her and many others.” Katarina ran her fingers down his chest. “ For you know the price of blood magik. The choice is yours.”

  “At what cost?” he whispered.

  “You are the price…”

  “My seed…”

  “Willingly given and not just for one night, but until I tire of you. We will rule Alamonar….” Her words faded at his look of pity.

  “I will never love you, Katarina.”

  “Never is a long time, Christian.” She took a step back from him. “What is it to be?”

  He frowned. “You wish an answer at this moment?”

  “I have waited long enough.”

  “If I pleasure you with my body, all will live?” he said through tight lips.

  Katarina nodded. “Not all, but some. Rhonal will have the woman who has the taint of Sarunos inside her. I will have you, and Mirabella will have life.”

  “Then Mirabella has done so?” Hope filled his voice. “Brought the one of Sarunos’ bloodline from the other world.”

  Katarina laughed. “Yes. The fool has brought her almost to our stoop.”

  “Her? What will Rhonal do with…?”

  “It is of no concern to you,” Katarina said. “Which will it be? Does Mirabella live or…?”

  “What if I can not perform?”

  She reached out, stroked the length of him and felt him quiver beneath her touch. “I doubt it will be problem.”

  “You’ve bewitched me,” Christian snapped, twisting away from her.

  Katarina shrugged. “Believe what you wish.”

  “My body may service you, but that will be all.”

  For now, she thought. But you will come to love me.

  Christian reached to loosen the drawstring at his trousers. “So be it.”

  “No,” she was surprised to hear her herself say. “It will be tonight. I wish to prepare myself for you.”

  He smiled bitterly. “What special plans do you need for a rutting?”

  She turned from him. “Tonight, Christian. It is what I wish.” Holding her anger in check, she moved toward the chamber door. Before she exited, she looked back. He stared out the window once more.

  Doubt and unease pricked her. What if she could not make him love her? Then she would enjoy his body and be content with the fact he was hers, and not the whore Mirabella’s.

  She moved down the hall, stopped before an ornate mirror. “But of course he will love me,” she said to her reflection. “How can he not?”

  A door opened and Vulpine came into the hall. She beckoned toward him.“Would you care to walk with me in the garden?”

  He looked taken back at her question, but then hurried toward her. She smiled at the eager hotness in his gaze. Yes. One must always reward a faithful servant. She took his arm and let him lead her toward the door

  *****

  Katarina stretched and smiled. Beside her on the bed of columbine, the white blossoms still fresh and warmed by her magic, Vulpine slept in exhaustion. She looked at the furrows of still flowing blood that striped his back and felt an ember of lust flare. By the dark god, they had ridden hard and fast, and he had given as much as he’d taken.

  Vulpine turned upon his back and her gaze strayed to his flaccid member. So innocent it looked, but she knew with but a touch it would be rigidly standing and ready again for action. She toyed with the idea, then sighed; there was much to do before this day ended. With a scarlet-coated fingernail, she flicked his nipple. “Vulpine. Wake. I have need of you.”

  He stretched and, with eyes still closed, smiled and reached out for her.

  Katarina slapped his hands away. “Awake, I say.”

  His eyes flew open and, for an unguarded moment stared, full of hate, into hers. The glint of unleashed anger, although quickly shielded, did what all of the shape-changer’s fawning jealousy could not—made her lust leap.

  What difference could a few more minutes make, she thought, as she rose onto her knees and straddled him.

  Vulpine again in fox form, wove silently among the trees. Behind him, the two-footers, crashed and stomped, and with each noise his ire rose. He wanted to turn and dig his fangs into them, but Katarina’s orders were clear. Their bodies were needed to break the wards surrounding Mirabella’s cottage. He hoped he had brought enough. With each incineration, the witch-woman’s magic would weaken, until he would be able to walk through the wards unharmed; at least that was what Katarina had promised. She had surmised ten deaths would do, and to that end he now led fourteen stumbling buffoons. If the wards do not kill the most of them I will, he thought, as he heard a loud curse rise from behind yet again.

  He halted and let the group surround him. It was time for a little fun. He stepped into their center and closed his eyes, willing the change to begin. Groans of fear filled his ears and he smelled its acrid taint. What did they see, he wondered? He had never seen the change, his eyes had to remain closed for the complete concentration it required. Once it had been described to him…the fog that oozed from his fur or skin, depending upon if he was becoming the fox or returning to his human form. How it formed an opaque shroud obscuring him from sight, how his bones snapped and cracked, and a scent like a recent lightning strike radiated from within.

  It was complete, and he stood naked before them. He never knew how he was sure when the change was over, but he did. He opened his eyes. White faces ringed him. Only a few stout souls, five of them, did not tremble like wind-whipped saplings. Their stoic attitudes irritated him so he singled them out first.

  “Go through the trees and to the door. But you must all enter the clearing at the same time.” It would n
ot do for them to see what befell the one who went first. They were bespelled by Katarina to obey his words, so they simply nodded and turned from him. The other nine started to follow and he froze them in place with a single look. “I did not give you leave to move.”

  The screams came to them first, and then the smell—charred flesh. He watched the faces of the nine before him. They paled, and a wild fear entered their eyes, a panic so feral that one broke free from Katarina’s spell and turned to run. “Stop him.”

  And the eight fell upon the ninth with fists, feet, and teeth. He watched with detachment until he judged the fleeing man no longer a problem. “Enough.”

  They stepped back. The bloody mess before him was already attracting flies. Katarina would not be happy with the waste. But the remaining eight would be enough to fulfill her wishes.

  “Follow me.”

  They moved to the glade. The eight stopped at the sight of the five charred bodies. Smoke still rose from them. He heard gagging and then retching from those behind. He smelled their fear, and it was a tribute to Katarina’s control the eight still moved into the glade.

  Vulpine stopped before the door of the cottage. Now that the wards were gone, he could open himself up to Katarina. He felt when she touched his mind.

  “No one is within,” she said. “They are out back.”

  He nodded and turned to glare into each set of eyes. They’d been instructed not to speak, to only follow his lead, and then fall upon any he pointed to. They were not to hurt the girl, but the man was fair game. He only wished he could stay behind and join in the fun. But his orders had been clear. He was to return at once with her.

  Vulpine led them around the cottage. Across a garden patch, he heard soft voices. He stopped, cocked his head, and listened as he sniffed the air. The rich smell of sex filled his nose. He turned to those behind him and waved them forth with his head. The wind shifted, and he caught the scent of something else, wild and feral—a wolf. Where did the scent come from? His answer came—a chorus of furious barking. He whirled to face the corner of the cottage. A wolf pup charged around it, still in full voice. From the trees beyond, alarmed voices rose.

  “Go,” he shouted to the eight. “Do as was commanded by your mistress.” His anger surged at the unplanned occurrence. The pup would die for its interference. He turned to face it and snarled. He expected the pup to stop, but instead it swerved by him and continued to run. For an instant, surprise kept him standing in place, and then he gave chase.

  Vulpine charged from the trees, almost running full force into the pool of water, before he swerved at the last moment.

  The man and woman were both naked. She stood behind the man, holding the wolf pup in her arms. The eight ringed them. The man was in fighting stance. This was not the plan. They were to have fallen upon him unaware. The eight looked at him for guidance. The man guarded the woman. That was the key. She pressed close to the man, and the wolf pup in her arms growled as she spoke to it.

  “Easy, Gnaw.” Her voice rang loud and strong. “Easy.”

  “What do you want?” the man demanded.

  “Katarina wishes to speak to the woman.”

  Vulpine watched her shake her head.

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “You heard Brianna’s answer,” the man said, his hands held away from his sides.

  “Katarina feels the woman should hear her offer. Does Mirabella fear her words may not be found true?”

  The man flushed. “Mirabella does not lie.” He took a step toward Vulpine and the eight shifted, tightened their circle.

  “No, Mason,” the woman said.

  Vulpine motioned toward the eight men. “They have no will but Katarina’s. I’ve but to give the command and you will die.”

  The man laughed. “You won’t do that. Your mistress wants Brianna.”

  “She does,” Vulpine agreed. “But she does not want you.”

  The woman gasped. “She just wants to talk to me, right?”

  Vulpine nodded.

  “Brianna, don’t be a fool,” the man muttered. “You heard what Mirabella said.”

  Brianna stared straight at Vulpine. “If I go with you, no one will be hurt?”

  “My orders where to bring you, how it was to be done was left to me.”

  She held out the pup to the man. “Take Gnaw.”

  “No, Brianna.”

  “Can you beat them all?” She looked at him, her face concerned.

  “I can try.”

  “And you can die.” She touched his arm. “Then who will come to get me if you are dead?”

  He took the pup from her.

  “A wise move friend,” Vulpine goaded.

  Frustrated anger tightened the man’s lips. He gathered the pup to his chest as it whined in distress at leaving the woman’s arms. “I’ll come for you.”

  “Of course you will.” She stepped around the man.

  At a look from Vulpine, the eight parted the circle. She walked through, and the circle again closed.

  He reached to take her arm, and she jerked away from him. “I need my clothes.”

  “Get them,” he ordered. “And bring me his.”

  Silence stretched as they both dressed. He turned to her and offered his arm. She stared at him coldly until he lowered it. Vulpine looked at the eight men. “Your orders are changed. The man is not to be killed.”

  Their eyes narrowed at his words. He turned to Brianna knowing his words to the eight would not be heeded; their instructions came straight from Katarina, and nobody but she could countermand them. “Follow me.”

  Tears glazed Brianna’s eyes, but she tilted her chin up and followed.

  “I’ll come for you,” Mason called.

  She nodded without turning.

  I do not think so, Vulpine thought. If you do manage to live, you’ll not be moving without pain for days, perhaps even weeks.

  Mason watched the eyes of the eight men and knew without doubt his life was in jeopardy. He could have called the man leading Brianna away a liar to his face, but it would have solved nothing. This way, if things went bad, at least one of them still lived.

  But for how long? You know what Mirabella said. Rhonal wants Brianna dead.

  He hated the voice of logic and reason inside his head and tried to put it away from him, but it went on.

  You have not saved her in this lifetime either.

  “Shut up,” he snapped.

  The eight men jumped at the sound of his voice.

  “Will you kill me,” he asked the nearest.

  “Katarina has ordered your death.”

  “May I put the pup down first?”

  The man nodded.

  Mason put Gnaw down, then turned to the man and bowed. The man looked puzzled, then lowered his head and charged. The others held back, no doubt wanting to see the show.

  Mason jumped to the side, stuck out his foot as the man charged. The man sailed over it and rolled, landing face-first in the damp leaves and swampy ground. He rolled over onto his back. Black mud covered a good portion of his face. The other seven laughed and the part of his face not muddied filled with red.

  “You’ll not be laughing when Katarina skins you for a new vest,” the man shouted.

  Fear replaced amusement and, as one, they jumped forward.

  Mason kicked, twisted, and chopped. Bones cracked and snapped. Screams filled the air. A foot found his ribs and pain lanced through him. A hand wrapped in his hair, jerking his head back. Hands closed around his throat. He reached out blindly, found flesh, and dug his fingers into it. A hoarse scream sounded and still he dug. Warmth poured down his hands. The pressure at his throat loosened, and he dropped to the ground and rolled. He jackknifed up onto his feet and spun. Three still stood. The other five lay on the ground, either motionless or writhing.

  The three eyed him. Then the one in the middle shrugged and turned away.

  “What are you doing?” One of the others asked. “She’ll kill
us.”

  “And so will he. He’s here now.” The one in the middle answered. “She isn’t. I’ll take my chances.”

  The man on Mason’s right looked around clearly frightened. “If we run we can never go back…”

  “Back to what? I have no children. My wife is dead. Out there I have a chance.”

  “But Rhonal?”

  The man laughed. “The dark god has more on his mind than one escaped slave.”

  “Two escaped slaves.” The man to Mason’s left said.

  The two looked at the third. He looked from Mason to them. “I cannot kill him on my own.”

  “Then join with us, or return to Katarina.”

  “I cannot go back—she will know.”

  The two turned away, walked toward the trees. After a moment, the third followed.

  Mason looked down at the five that remained. They were motionless now. He moved to each one and checked for a pulse. They were dead. It hit him then, and his knees shook. He’d never killed before. Always it had been sparring with his sensei. He stumbled three steps away, sunk to the ground, and vomited. Gnaw came to him, whined softly. Mason wiped his mouth and patted the top of the wolf pup’s head. “We will get her back. I just have to figure out where to look.”

  Mirabella would know. But how was he to find her? He took a deep breath and stood. One thing for sure, the answers weren’t here in the cottage, or the glade. He needed a weapon. A stout lance if nothing else. It wouldn’t do him any good against the magic. For that, he’d need Mirabella, but if the bitch’s other slaves were as human as this bunch, he could sure as hell do some major damage. And that shape-changing bastard would be the first. Damn, if his own powers weren’t blocked from him, he’d show them a thing or two about magic. He had to find Mirabella. He slapped his leg. “Come on Gnaw.” And was surprised to see that the pup followed.

  Chapter Seven