Deep In The Wild Dire Columbine

By Jacquotte Fox Kline

In the second book of the Down Deep Inside trilogy, the storm clouds continue to thicken around the Lady’s little city. The pleasurable life of every New Order succubus is once again in jeopardy.

In a bid for survival, a new alliance brings a clan of bloodthirsty dream-magicians to stalk the streets of the city at night. The dangerous guests have a different, less appetizing philosophy on the treatment of their submissives.

Shar pushes ever further into her decadent world. On the urging of her former mentor, she dares to cast a potent bisexual love spell. A magical mishap throws her headfirst into a life-defining challenge, reminding her that some treasured gifts can be taken away.

Anin’s duties invite disturbing encounters with the dangerous visitors, while Mistress Portiah also takes a walk on the wild side. The threads in the tapestry are flung far and wide until Shar’s bravery is once again tested in the shattering climax.

Publisher’s Note: This is the second book in the Down Deep Inside trilogy. The first book is Down Where The Blue Violet Beauties Bloom. This is a dark fantasy novel intended for mature readers. 134,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacquotte Fox Kline
• Release date: Oct 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996924313

Jacquotte Fox Kline

Jacquotte was an avid reader as a child. Her favorite books were Tolkien's Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogy, which she finished at the age of eight. As a teenager, she created adventure stories for high fantasy role-playing games.She was a high school spelling champion and took a few writing classes in college, but she didn't write real fiction until joining an online group in her early 30s. She learned oodles in the group, honed her skills, wrote countless critiques, and won a few contests.Jacquotte was particularly influenced by Jack Bickham, a brilliant American professor and writer of westerns (The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes [1972], Scene & Structure: How to construct fiction with scene-by-scene flow, logic and readability [1993]).She went on to publish nine short stories in the genres of horror and erotic: five in various paying publications and four self-published. She then took 15 years to write her five epic novels in the vein of J.R.R. Tolkien: the Down Deep trilogy and two supporting one-offs.The novels were all written simultaneously to create the richest, most consistent experience for the reader.

Book preview

Chapter 1: The Beauty Fledgling

Shar snap-kicked. Portiah deflected the kick. Shar kept her momentum with a hateful kinehex into Portiah’s chest. Her succubus force flowed like psychic lightning, rocking Portiah and sending wide a pommel strike.

Good, chérie. Portiah patted her gloved hands together in silent applause. You brought some energy this week.

Shar bowed to end the session. Thank you, Mistress.

Portiah slid her practice blade into place on the weapon rack. Would you like to take a bath here at my chateau before you leave for home? Perhaps we can relax and chat.

Fine, but I need to be back at Mistress Arachneh’s before six.

Portiah nodded. Meet me in your old inner courtyard.

As you wish, Mistress. Shar slipped out of the training hall. She sniffed the flowery air that wafted over Portiah’s hill from the fields of Elysium. Summer had come again to the hidden mountain city of Lady Aphrodite. Alpine sparrows darted between the leafy oaks and spired cypresses. Sulphur butterflies flitted through the gardens, engaged in silent rituals of insect fertility.

Shar walked the path around Portiah’s chateau. One year had passed since she’d left Portiah’s tutelage to study instead with Mistress Arachneh. One year had passed since the Old Order occupation of the Lady’s city had been expelled by the vengeful fires of the cat goddess Sekhmet, with the help of Ishildah’s magic and Portiah’s sword.

She’d been a fledgling among the New Order succubi for one year and seven moons. She’d learned much about the arts of seduction and illusion. Mistress Arachneh had taught her how to groom her angelic body to perfection—and then how to then use it, along with her wit and intuition, to influence others.

She’d never felt more self-assured as a fledgling, yet her life felt like a disaster. She was a knitted phoenix, flying high on her intoxicating succubus life but all the while unravelling. Everyone in the Lady’s city knew about her instability. She was hanging by a thread, a fainting fledgling on the verge of failure. Whispers at evening parties blamed Portiah for missteps in her training.

Summer was her favorite season in Elysium, yet her sadness persisted. Her heart hadn’t thawed from the previous winter, when she’d slipped into the depths of a depression. She was lonely, and her love for Theodorah had ended with nothing. Theodorah hadn’t returned from the east, where she was probably sleeping with big hairy werewolves every night, forgetting her romantic promises to a certain angel fledgling.

Summer felt wrong in another way. A family of vampires had come to the Redoubt—not the evil Disciples of Set, but another clan from the east. Vampires were cold and deathly. They didn’t belong in summer, and no one seemed to know why the Traumeri clan was in the city of the love goddess. Even Mistress Arachneh was reluctant to say anything about the visitors, which added to their mystery.

Shar turned the sun-heated handle of her old bedchamber door at the side of the chateau. The inside of her old room was just as she’d left it. Her wardrobe sat empty like her bed. She ran her finger over the dust on her old writing desk. She wondered why Portiah had asked her to share a bath. She visited Portiah once a week to practice at blades, but her decision to study with a different mistress had created a gulf of formality. A bath would overstep the détente.

Shar breezed through the inner door into the interior courtyard, where she shucked her padded training robe and slipped into the hot volcanic water. She picked up a crusty sponge from the warm mossy retaining wall. She’d changed since she’d arrived in the city of Aphrodite. She was a little taller, and her figure was a bit more womanly.

The biggest change was her honey-blonde hair, which was growing everywhere. She had to regularly shave her legs and underarms with a razor. Arachneh kept pestering her to shave her sex, but she refused. She was keeping her sex untamed in memory of Theodorah, at least until she saw the beautiful cat shifter again.

Despite her physical changes, she still looked like an angel. All of her dresses and shirts had to be altered to accommodate her little wings. Her face and blue eyes betrayed an angelic innocence. Most days she didn’t feel exotic at all—more like a queer and ugly duckling.

Arachneh constantly reassured her that her angelic attributes were gifts—tools that she could use to seduce, fool, and manipulate. Shar rubbed the sponge over her youthful breasts. She wondered if she could persuade Portiah into revealing secrets about the vampire visitors. If so, she’d have to re-establish her old rapport with the elder blade mistress. Given their strained relations, Portiah wouldn’t say much without persuasion.

Portiah’s footsteps echoed in the outer bedchamber. The blade mistress slipped through the inner door and entered the chateau courtyard. Portiah was accompanied by Kouritsi, who carried an armload of folded towels topped with sprigs of fresh lavender.

Shar eyed the offering. You shouldn’t have gone to that much trouble, Mistress.

A beauty mistress suffers for her art, so she must pamper herself in equal measure.

That sounds like something Mistress Arachneh would say.

It is. Portiah snapped her fingers, and the housemaid bent to work at Portiah’s corset laces. She said it at a party once. I hope the lavender will take the edge off of the sulfur in my water. I doubt if Arachneh would approve of the odor on your skin.

Definitely not. Shar scrunched in the small pool to give Portiah room. Portiah disrobed with the help of Kouritsi, who slipped away. Portiah looked tired when she lowered herself into the hot volcanic water. Her greying hair was even less tended than usual, and the wrinkles around her eyes were more pronounced. Portiah managed a smile.

You’ve grown a bit since you went with Arachneh, fledgling. You’ve embraced your new life with resilience, yet you’re still struggling. What’s the real trouble?

I’m more worried about you, Mistress Portiah. You’re always up here at your chateau alone, and you never go to any parties.

A shadow crossed Portiah’s hazel eyes. She slipped deeper into the pool. You can’t fool me with tricks of diversion, Shar-si. You’ve been sullen and apathetic for months, and it’s interfering with your blades training. That I can’t abide. Let’s discuss you, not me.

Shar bit her lip. I guess I’m still trying to find my way in this life. I feel so lost. I have one solution that might help me find answers, but it’s hard.

What is it?

I want a lover.

Portiah arched her eyebrow. That’s all? I’m under the impression that you go to a lot of parties, chérie. If the rumors of your popularity are even half true, you’ve had a few lovers in the past several months.

Shar felt her cheeks warm. A few. I want a real lover. I want someone who is devoted to me, and I to them. It’s hard because most people seem to secretly hate me—

That isn’t true.

Yes, it is. I’m responsible for everything that happened. They blame me for all of the mistresses and fledglings who were killed or taken back to Tartarus during last year’s attack on the city. Everyone lost their friends and loved ones because of me.

Nonsense. The Angelic Hierarchy used you as a pawn in a gambit. The Lady accepted that gambit. As a consequence there were casualties. It was a tragedy that so many of our mistresses were hauled back to Tartarus before we could stop the Old Order. Some were punished in Hell’s Court for breaking Lord Hades’ laws against lesbians, and some of them are imprisoned still—the ones who refused to repent. That’s not your fault, fledgling. Don’t put such pressure on yourself. After all, you helped save the city in the end.

Still—

Still you feel like an outsider and uncomfortably judged.

Yes. I meet people at parties, but they never want to talk to me. They only want to fuck me.

Portiah nodded sagely. Her mood had visibly improved. She swept her hair back over the lip of the pool, picked up a sponge and washed her neck and jaw. If you desire something strongly enough, you will make it come to pass. It’s a cornerstone of magical thought, the aliment to the cruelty of the Fates. It’s the law of attraction. Stoke your passion, and then use your will to channel that passion to get what you want.

Shar sighed. That’s the problem. I don’t know who I want. I already know almost everyone in the city, or at least everyone that shows up at evening parties. I haven’t found anyone that makes me feel like I feel for Theodorah.

Don’t try to bend the will of a specific person. That’s black magic. Concentrate powerfully on what you want in general terms. Your lover might knock on your door.

That would be nice, but I don’t think it will happen.

The idea is to influence yourself more than someone else, fledgling. The entire world can change with your own attitude. That’s the most powerful magic.

I suppose.

Focus your desire with a spell. Find a deck of tarot cards. Choose the card that most resembles the lover you want. Place a candle on the card. Light it every night and send your desires into the dream world on the wings of the flame.

Shar smiled skeptically. How long should I light the candle?

For as long as you feel your intention flowing, Portiah answered. When you’re sleepy or distracted, blow it out. Speak to Mistress Ishildah. She can help you.

Thank you, Mistress. I might try that.

I believe in you, chérie. The angels misled you in a lot of things, but they also taught you an earnestness that will always serve you well.

I wonder if my spell could make Theodorah come back. Has there been any word from her?

No. Not lately. Portiah rubbed her forehead, and her face fell into shadow. A messenger bird flitted over the rooftop, silhouetted briefly against the late afternoon sky. Shar winced when its little magical claws landed on bare shoulder. Arachneh’s voice spoke in her ear.

The guests will arrive soon. I need you home, fledgling. The carriage will be there momentarily.

Shar climbed from the water. I’m sorry, Mistress Portiah. I have to go.

I understand, chérie.

Can I ask you something else? Shar picked up a towel and rubbed it over her body. She stretched and arched with her work. Portiah’s silver-hazel eyes were roaming.

What is it, fledgling?

I heard there are vampires in the city. I asked Arachneh, but she wouldn’t say much. Do you know anything about them? No one will tell me.

Portiah pursed her lips. The Lady’s guests are the Traumeri clan. They have conflicts with the Old Order succubi, Lord Hades, and the Disciples of Set just like us. The Lady has proposed an alliance between us and them.

So the vampires are the enemies of our enemies, then?

Precisely. Such an alliance would strengthen our defenses, which were greatly weakened by last year’s attack. There are rumors of troop movements in Tartarus. Some trade routes are blockaded. I fear Lord Hades and Lady Lilith still aren’t willing to let us live in a separate free society here in Elysium.

Shar shivered. Please don’t say those things.

You asked for it.

Will the vampires be staying long?

We hope so. The plan is for our vampire guests to take up residences in the homes that are now standing empty—the homes of the mistresses who were taken away last year during the Old Order occupation.

The vampires will live here? That’s awful, Mistress. No wonder Arachneh hasn’t said anything. She probably doesn’t want to upset me.

There’s no need to be upset, fledgling. The Traumeri vampires are civilized and refined, unlike the Disciples of Set. The Traumeri are sorcerers—dream magicians who can help counter the types of Hierarchy attacks that make things difficult for Lady Aphrodite. Tonight there is a dance at the palace. A formal agreement is expected to be sealed.

There’s a party at the palace tonight?

Portiah smiled faintly. Yes. It’s a masquerade ball by formal invitation only. The Traumeri matriarch and her son will be there. The Prince is actually quite handsome.

That must be why Arachneh is pestering me to come home. I really need to go.

Until next week, chérie. I’m going to stay and soak my feet.

Shar slipped into her training robe and strode out of the courtyard, back through her old bedroom and around the walk to the driveway, where Arachneh’s elegant swan-shaped carriage was already waiting. She hopped into the rear seat. The driver cracked the whip, and the carriage jolted out of Portiah’s gate and down the hill into the center of the city.

Within ten minutes, Arachneh’s three story house appeared through the trees. The sunset glowed across the red riled roofs and stained glass windows. Shar trotted through the back door and up the rear stairs to her room, where the French dressing-girl was waiting for her.

She took her position in front of the full-length gilt-framed mirror. Bijou removed her robe and wrapped her with an elegant underbust corset, and then helped her with stockings and shoes. The soft sweeps of a gown heralded the presence of Mistress Arachneh, seconds before the reflection of the elegant mistress appeared in the mirror.

Arachneh was obviously dressed for a party. Her hair was coiffed more magnificently than usual, powdered and interspersed with jewels and pins of subtle meaning. She wore a sumptuous burgundy gown replete with ribbons, bows, and satin panels.

Arachneh sniffed. Is that sulfur with a faint overtone of lavender, fledgling? Who does Portiah think she’s fooling? And your hair is bedraggled—as limp as a well-taken acolytos. This just won’t do.

Shar stood still while Arachneh fussed with her hair. I’m sorry, Mistress. I told Portiah that I shouldn’t bathe in her stinky water up on the hill, but she insisted.

Well, you should have known better. Arachneh snapped her fingers at the dressing-girl. I want her nipples well-stung, Bijou. Then she can come down and join us.

Arachneh paced from the bedchamber. Bijou hurried to the bee-closet with a pair of tweezers. Shar slid a small wooden stool in front of the mirror and seated herself. She watched the dressing-girl retrieve the bees. Bijou returned with the bee bottle. A short spout allowed the bees a single file egress from their glass prison. Bijou expertly caught the first wriggling insect in the tweezers. Shar felt the sharp pinch and tickle of the venom.

Shar watched her nipples puff and swell in the mirror while Bijou worked. She hated nipple-stinging. Her beautiful image was an illusion—absorbing and reflecting the environment but having no soul its own. She felt an undefinable feeling of horror.

Her discussion with Portiah had stirred up the abyss of her insecurities. Portiah had easily intuited her inner turmoil. Portiah had an uncanny knack for understanding her. As a succubus, she was consumed by sex and thoughts of sex in every hour of every day. It was intoxicating, but it wasn’t real love. She was performing in a desire play.

Could Portiah’s love spell really work? Could it help her re-find the amazing feelings that she’d felt for Theodorah? She wanted to get a candle and a tarot card to find out. Portiah had intimated much about the visiting vampires and politics in the city. Vampires in the city were frightening, but the possibility of another attack was worse. If the Lady needed an alliance with a clan of vampires, then the Redoubt was surely still in danger.

Shar bit her lip. She wished she’d asked Portiah more questions, but there was nothing she could do about the Lady’s troubles. She was no longer a blade fledgling. Although she’d agreed to continue part-time lessons in self-defense, she’d vowed not to fight and shed blood again.

She had her own problems. She had to find answers before her heart and love were buried by endless lust, preferably before the peace in the Lady’s city was again disrupted by Hell’s politics. She needed re-find the spark that she’d felt with Theodorah—that missing piece of her tortured love-puzzle. Perhaps the palace party would offer new chances to meet intriguing people.

Chapter 2: The Overturned Chariot

Shar stepped down into darkness from on high. The foyer at the bottom of the staircase was dark. Either the acolytoi hadn’t lit the candles atop the newel post, or the draft from the bird slits had blown them out. Outside the foyer windows, the trees thrashed in a deep indigo sky that hinted at a stormy summer night.

The evening guests were resplendent in Arachneh’s front parlour. Mistress Sirceteh and Mistress Tenweh sat in two matching armchairs in the cozy lamp light. Their exquisite ball gowns were draped like melted flowers. They idly held masks in their manicured hands. Their gold jewelry glinted like the gilt-framed antique oil paintings on the parlour walls.

Kundra-si and Henne-si lounged at the feet of their mistresses on the patterned carpet. The fledglings were also well-bejewelled for the evening, but wore only satin over-hip corsets with blooming pleated skirts.

Shar-si! You’ve finally joined us, Tenweh said. We were beginning to think you preferred other company.

Shar eased into her customary armchair next to Mistress Arachneh. A cup of tea waited on the side table. She picked it up and took a sip. Arachneh had taught her the art of the lingering drink. Her delay in answering Tenweh’s question kept all eyes upon her while giving her time to think of a response. She also needed to catch her breath from the stair descent. Bijou had tied her corset extra tightly.

Mistress Portiah kept me late, Mistress Tenweh. Of course your company is always a pleasure and illustrative for any young beauty fledgling.

I should hope so, Tenweh said. She reached down and caressed the shoulder of her fledgling. Henne-si also finds my company pleasurable and illustrative. In fact, we were all just discussing the value—

Or lack thereof, interjected Mistress Sirceteh.

—of love between a mistress and fledgling, finished Tenweh. What do you think on the subject, Shar-si?

Shar took another quick sip of tea. Arachneh’s eyebrow arched slightly at her, either with interest in her response or with disapproval that she’d executed a second lingering drink too quickly. I haven’t experienced such a thing. In order to have a valid opinion on something, one must have experience.

Doesn’t an opinion have to exist before it can be validated? Tenweh said archly, with a hint of derision.

Sirceteh rolled her eyes. Shar-si is saying that we should use reasoning derived from experimentation to form an opinion. No opinion at all is better than an ill-informed one.

I would agree that rational thought should exist before an opinion can manifest, Tenweh countered. But a beauty mistress should always have an opinion on everything, is that not so, Arachneh?

If employed judiciously, it’s good for business, Arachneh answered.

Deflecting an argument with a veiled accusation of intellectual inferiority is a tactic of sophists, Sirceteh said. Shar-si made a profound—

I didn’t disagree, Tenweh interrupted, I just said that a beauty mistress should always have an opinion. You’re being silly now, Sirceteh.

Ad feminem.

Speaking of opinions. Arachneh expertly sipped her tea. Shar breathed a sigh of relief and admired Arachneh’s masterful technique. Perhaps we should turn to the Traumeri vampires. Will they only bring us more trouble?

Tenweh tilted her head. You think the marriage of convenience is ill-fated? It’s too soon to say.

I can’t believe they’ll be living here, piped up the redheaded fledgling Henne. And a political marriage? Who will the Prince choose?

As long as he doesn’t choose me, I don’t care, Kundra said.

The Traumeri aren’t violent monsters. Sirceteh fanned her perfectly painted face with her ball mask. They’re accomplished dream magicians.

They’re too accomplished for my comfort, Arachneh said. I fear we’re letting vipers in the door. The Traumeri are strong yet weak, just like us. We have common enemies. On paper it seems reasonable, but how will their humans be handled?

Exactly, Sirceteh said. The vampires rely on victims as much as volunteers. If the Traumeri are allowed to relieve their feed-slaves of free will in this city, then Lady Aphrodite’s laws will have to be relaxed for everyone. Are we abandoning the idea of devoted acolytoi and going back to the slaving ways of the Old Order?

We still seduce our acolytos candidates, Tenweh said. Our acolytoi think they are surrendering voluntarily and devoting themselves to the spiritual path of Love, but do they really have a choice?

Sirceteh shook her head. It’s a slippery slope back to the ways of the Old Order—the capturing, torturing, and deprivation of humans to stoke their emotional energy.

Arachneh gazed at the parlour windows and fanned her powdered face. Regardless of vampire feeding practices, no one can deny that the Traumeri women are beautiful.

The men are handsome too, Sirceteh added. I’ve always wondered whether their cocks feel dead or alive when they’re inside you.

So should we head for the ball? Arachneh quipped.

Absolutely, Arachneh. Sirceteh laughed. I’ll send a bird to my driver, if everyone agrees on a single carriage.

Shar frowned. Will we fledglings take a second carriage then?

Arachneh cleared her throat. No, Shar-si. The masquerade ball is the first opportunity for the Traumeri Prince to court the succubi of this city for a political wife. Fledglings can’t marry yet, so that means mistresses only.

You fledglings can stay here until we return, Sirceteh added. We thought you should get to know each other better. There are fewer of us left in the Lady’s city these days. We should all be better friends.

Well said, Sirceteh, Tenweh said.

The mistresses rose and filed out of the parlour. Shar sipped her tea. Arachneh had evidently wanted her home only so she could play the role of the host. Her nipple-stinging had been a punishment, not a preparation for an important party. The front door closed behind the mistresses with a heavy thump. A minute later, Sirceteh’s carriage rolled away.

Henne stretched. Well, that was an interesting conversation.

Hardly, Kundra said. So now what? Are Arachneh’s acolytoi available to us?

Let’s wait a while for feeding. Henne rose from the floor and fell into the armchair that Tenweh had vacated. What would you be doing tonight if we weren’t here, Shar-si?

I’m hungering from my blades practice with Portiah. I’d probably take an acolytos and then write in my diary.

You have a diary? What sorts of things do you write about? Your lovers? Your love-taking techniques?

Whatever I feel like. I kept a diary when I was an angel too. I thought I was being rebellious in Heaven, but now I can hardly remember what I wrote about. I was very naïve and boring. I didn’t know anything.

Henne nodded politely. I’d like to know how these vampires will turn out. Would anyone want to try tarot cards? I brought a deck. We could cast a spread to foretell the fate of the Redoubt since vampires will soon be roaming in its streets.

Kundra stirred. Why not? We can to try to divine the fate of the Lady and the city. Can I lay them this time, Henne?

I suppose, Henne replied. The fledgling pulled a leather case from her hidden dress pocket. The case produced a deck of old cards with worn edges and corners. Henne and Kundra settled on the floor next to the parlour table, arranging their summer skirts as they went. Shar joined them. She watched Kundra shuffle.

Kundra had red-painted fingernails that matched her lip paint. The olive-skinned fledgling wore a long thick braid like Portiah, but the braid was dark black in color without a trace of grey. Kundra’s curves were full, just short of voluptuous, but she was no slug. Her movements were aggressively dexterous, even sinuous. Kundra drew all eyes to her body like an eclipsed moon.

Henne was Kundra’s opposite—a diminishing pale-skinned artiste with her nails trimmed short for her sculpting. Henne was wiry and undersized, with faint freckles in her skin and small breasts over a torso clasped wasp-tight by her corset. Her luxuriant red hair was framed with gold in the lamp light and ornamented with faux golden beads.

Shar bit her lip. Ogling the other fledglings aroused her Hunger a little bit. She’d never slept with either Kundra or Henne, although she’d seen them partially nude on many occasions. As beauty fledglings, Kundra and Henne were also frequent attendees at evening parties.

Kundra finished shuffling and plopped the cards out one by one, face down in the shape of a cross. Henne’s freckled nose crinkled with fairy-like consternation. The cross of fate doesn’t have that extra card, Kundra.

Kundra smiled mischievously. I’m doing a vampire spread in the shape of an ankh. I thought it was appropriate, you know.

Well, if it’s a vampire spread, then you’re reading for Shar, because your ankh is upside-down.

It looks better this way. It doesn’t matter. Kundra flipped a card face up. The first card is the Three of Swords.

Rupture and absence would fit our situation, Henne murmured. Half of the New Order succubi were sent to the void or taken away during last year’s attack.

Shar leaned to look at the tarot picture card, incidentally taking a deep breath of Henne’s intoxicating red-nectar perfume. Or if the card is for me, it could mean rupture from my old life and coming here from Heaven.

Kundra turned another card. The cards aren’t meant for you, Shar-si. The crossing card is the trump of Judgment.

Fate and judgment are at hand, Henne said. That’s an ominous combination.

It could be good, Kundra offered. The current situation must balance itself to become what it must be. The crowning card is the Moon trump—a yearning for fulfillment. The Lady yearns to fulfill her dreams.

Shar sighed. Don’t we all.

The foundation card is the Nine of Wands—strength through adversity, Kundra continued. Maybe that means the vampires will make us stronger, and the Lady will prevail. The extra vampire card is the Hierophant trump—a marriage or alliance with a powerful force and an opening to new paths and ideas.

This is saying nothing we don’t already know, Henne said.

Kundra flipped two more cards. The hindsight card is the Two of Swords—a peaceful time in a difficult situation. The foresight card is The Chariot reversed—failure and waste.

Shar frowned. That’s the future?

Kundra tapped the card. See the picture? The chariot is overturned due to the inattention of the driver. The bounty is spilled on the road, being eaten by pigs. If the driver is the Lady, it’s hard to believe that the Redoubt will crash and fall into ruin because of her lack of attention, but that’s what the card says.

Unless it’s actually an upside-down vampire spread, Henne interjected. In which case you’re reading for Shar-si. The Chariot wouldn’t be reversed. It would mean triumph and success.

Kundra smacked her forehead. That’s silly. The power of the cards is in my intention, not in the pieces of paper.

That isn’t true. The Fates are in the cards, not in you.

I swear you’re just like your mistress, Henne. You and Tenweh both have a penchant for making ridiculous arguments.

It isn’t ridiculous, Henne replied, grinning impishly. There are two ways of looking at the spread. Either something good happens for Shar-si, or we’re all doomed in the end.

Well, I hope something good happens. Shar got up and smoothed her gown. She was feeling cranky and tense, and the tarot cards weren’t improving her mood. Kundra looked up at her quizzically.

Where are you going, Shar-si? I wouldn’t mind a fresh pot of tea.

I’m going to the ball.

Kundra looked irked. We didn’t mean to drive you off. We were just having fun.

Come on, Shar-si, Henne said, stretching. Show us around Arachneh’s house—the secret places if you know what I mean. The ball is for mistresses only. You heard what they said.

Shar picked up the Hierophant card from the table. The card depicted a crowned woman in a red robe, with one hand raised as if in greeting and the other hand holding some sort of blunt weapon or scepter. A pair of acolytoi groveled at her feet.

May I please borrow this card, Henne? Shar looked sweetly at the redheaded fledgling. True love was the last thing on her mind at that moment, but it couldn’t be coincidence that Portiah had advised her to find a tarot deck for a love spell, and Henne had brought one to Arachneh’s parlour that very night.

Henne shrugged. Sure. I want to get it back soon, though. The Gypsies charge a fortune for these genuine decks.

How do you plan to get into the ball, Shar-si? Kundra’s dark, sultry eyes were half-lidded. I can tell you’re not bluffing.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Shar slipped Henne’s tarot card into the hidden pocket in her dress, a special succubus pocket designed for holding handcuffs and other implements. She left the parlour and re-ascended the steps to the second floor, where she trotted the length of the upper hallway to Arachneh’s bedchamber.

She knew Mistress Arachneh’s wardrobe intimately. She found an old unused ball mask—a leathery affair with a spray of red parrot feathers that matched her dress.

Chapter 3: A Thrill And A Spell

Shar hitched her pony at the stable post and strode through the carriages, which double-lined the north side of the cobblestoned palace plaza. She climbed the marble palace steps. A pair of palace acolytoi waited at the open mother-of-pearl doors. The acolytoi were armed with swords and clad from head to toe in fancy gilded armor. The female guard held a sheaf of official-looking papers in her hand. The other acolytos was a burly and muscled male.

Hello there, Shar said. She stepped close so the male acolytos could smell her perfume. I’m here to visit my friend, Anin. Do you know him?

Yes, the boy said hesitantly. Of course.

So can I go inside?

No one gets inside tonight without an invitation. Lady’s orders.

I’m not even here for the ball. Shar feigned her best pout. I really wanted to see Anin. Please? I know he’ll appreciate seeing me.

The male shrugged lackadaisically and opened his mouth to acquiesce, but the female guard answered quickly instead. We’re sorry, fledgling. There’s an official party going on with important vampire ambassadors.

Shar erased the pout and steeled her eyes instead. I’m Shar-si. See my wings? I’m sure the Lady wouldn’t mind if I visited Anin. I want in. Now.

The female acolytos paled but stood her ground. We’re really sorry.

Fine. I’ll go home, then. First though, do you want to see my magical mask? It turns me invisible. Shar lifted the feathered mask to her face. She could see through the eye holes down the palace entry hall through the open doors. She flashed. The familiar black ribbon uncoiled beneath her feet. She slipped through time and space between the acolytoi and emerged in the Lady’s great hall. She turned out of sight with the acolytoi none the wiser.

Shar headed in the direction of the ball room. A wave of nerves gripped her belly. She hoped she wouldn’t make Aphrodite angry by breaking the rules. She was more worried about Arachneh, Tenweh, and Sirceteh. She needed to avoid the beauty mistresses at all costs.

She entered the ballroom on the red-carpeted mezzanine, which ran the circumference of the chamber. The ballroom as a whole was high-ceilinged and spherical. The mid-level mezzanine offered a view of the lower dance floor from flowery silver railings. Two sets of curved stairs ascended from the mezzanine level to a more private cloister level above it.

Musicians played a plaintive tune on violas and bassoons to the accompaniment of a curious dirge sung by a soprano in the orchestral pit. Candles burned in red glass holders, casting pools of warm light at intervals. The great golden chandelier that hung from the rotunda was unlit. The ballroom was darker than normal, surely for the benefit of the vampire visitors.

Shar sidled to the railing and looked over the dance floor. The unmasked Traumeri vampires were easily identifiable. They were handsome with pale skin and angular features. One tall male vampire wore a long coat and a confident, commanding expression on his face. He wasn’t deigning to dance. Mistress Arachneh was among the gaggle of mistresses who stood around the vampire, who was probably the Traumeri Prince. Tenweh stood at Arachneh’s shoulder, where she was telling a joke.

The Prince’s hair was long like a woman’s, but his jaw and face were strong and masculine like his stature. He appeared thirtyish in Earth terms, although his age was vague in a way typical to Elysium. His eyebrows were thick over a regal nose. The golden buttons on his black coat were echoed in gold ornaments on his polished black leather shoes. The Prince appeared severe yet quick with a repartee. He smiled when the mistresses burst into affected laughter.

The head of the Prince tipped upwards suddenly to the mezzanine railing. Shar blinked and froze. The Prince’s eyes had settled directly on her. His pupils seemed to widen between his eyelids. Somehow from a distance, she could see her own reflection in his liquid blackness. She could feel the Prince’s energy touch her skin and her soul.

Shar felt a thrill run through her, even as the ball masks of the crowd of mistresses turned up one after the other like sunflowers. Shar tore herself away from the railing. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she prayed to the Lady that she’d gone unrecognized. She’d only just arrived. She ran quickly up the staircase to the shelter of the third and highest ballroom concourse. The cloister was dark and intimate with the constricting diameter of the crowning rotunda.

The upper level was evidently designed for absconding with one’s lover or acolytos. The curved walls were lined with niches where mirrors arched over velvet benches. Low tables bore ashtrays for smoking. Shar hurried past Hymen-si, who sat on one of the benches while entertaining a vampire. A male palace acolytos had his head between Hymen’s legs, venerating her energetically. The male vampire looked on with apparent pleasure.

Shar stopped short. She hadn’t watched her path, and she’d collided with a hard, unyielding body. She stepped back from an old vampiress, whose pale skin was shrunk tight over her bones. The eyes of the vampiress were veiled by wrinkled lids, and her lips were wide, tight, and thin. When the old vampiress spoke, wrinkles coagulated on her forehead.

Be careful, young one.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.

A lanky, clean-shaven younger male stood by the side of the vampiress. He wore a long coat like the Prince, but the coat was loose and antique instead of trim and well-fitted. The male offered a conciliatory smile. And who might you be? I’m Lexei, the childe of Kommissar Romica, and this is Matriarch Gertrude Traumer.

Shar curtseyed. I’m Shar-si, Mistress Arachneh’s fledgling. It’s a pleasure.

The vampiress nodded, as if slightly amused. We were looking for the Kommissar. Is she here somewhere? Have you seen her?

I’ve only just arrived.

Lower your mask, childe. Let me see your face behind those bird feathers.

Shar removed her mask. In the moment, she couldn’t think of an excuse not to do otherwise. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Matriarch Gertrude. I’m sorry I ran into you like that.

Gertrude’s sagging, wrinkled eyelids flicked open just like the Prince’s eyes. The pupils of the vampiress seemed to expand to fill the whole of her eyes, and the pupils were pure blackness. After a few seconds, the eyes of the vampiress closed again like the wrinkled eyes of a turtle, almost to slits.

You’re quite a remarkable creature, the Matriarch murmured. Are you the angel succubus I’ve heard mention of?

Shar nodded. Yes. That’s probably me. I was taken from Heaven by the succubi. The Lady made me into one of them, but my heritage is still sort of noticeable.

The Matriarch drew back slightly. I was judging more by your feel than your appearance. Your body is imbued with a holy aura. It remains holy ground, although you’ve thoroughly despoilt it. I can feel you as I might a church. It isn’t pleasant. I noticed it quite clearly when you bumped into me.

I’m sorry to have bothered you, Matriarch Gertrude. I was clumsy and distracted. Shar offered her best innocent smile, a smile that served her well with Arachneh.

It’s not so much bothersome as repulsive, angel. Like sunlight. The Matriarch turned to the male vampire at her side. Do you not feel it, Lexei?

Yes, Gertrude, said the handsome younger male. I like the analogy of a church better than sunlight. Her angelic body gives her an aura of forbidden impenetrability. Are you what the succubi call a ‘beauty mistress’, Shar-si?

Yes, but I’m just a fledgling, like I said. Shar grimaced. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Arachneh cresting the stairs to the upper level. Arachneh had abandoned her mask to reveal the full extent of her displeasure, and so had Tenweh, who smirked just behind as she matched Arachneh’s long strides.

I’m so sorry, Matriarch Gertrude, but I absolutely have to be going now. It was a great pleasure to meet you, and also you, Master Lexei.

Good bye, Shar-si. Lexei bowed politely.

Shar curtseyed again and continued around the rotunda, pacing away from Arachneh. She completed the circuit without looking back and descended the opposite stairway at a rabbit’s pace. She pranced across the mezzanine and out of the ball room. She removed her shoes and flew down the palace hallways on her stockinged feet. She zipped past the surprised acolytoi at the entry doors and down the broad steps to the palace stables.

Within a minute she was riding her pony safely away. Her pony trotted up the stony streets back to the house. She drew into the drive past Tenweh’s carriage and put the pony back in the stable. She entered the house and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

She wondered if Arachneh would really be angry. Portiah had always encouraged her to misbehave, but with Portiah she never felt like it was appropriate. Arachneh, on the other hand, demanded strict discipline in every situation, and she felt the contrary urge to be rebellious.

When she reached her closed bedroom door, a glow of candlelight came from the cracks. She entered to find the ebony form of Kundra sprawled over Henne, both clad only in their corsets. Shar stopped and stared. The two fledglings were playing shamelessly in the middle of her bed. Kundra lifted herself to a sitting position. Kundra’s black breasts were well-cut in profile. Her nipples were stiff with arousal.

Come join us, Shar-si.

Fine. Shar threw her shoes at her wardrobe. Her heart was pounding in her chest as well as in her temples. None of the evening events had been singularly stressful, but altogether it had been a bit much. She sat at her vanity and removed her stockings.

Did you really go to the ball, Shar-si? Henne asked.

Yes. I talked to some of the vampires. I saw the Prince.

Really? Henne looked surprised. What was he like? By the Lady, I can’t believe you managed that.

The Prince is hard to describe. He’s very handsome and strong-looking, as one would expect. The mistresses were all flirting with him.

Kundra shook her head.