Vampire's Fire: Sisters of Annis, #2

By PG DEVLIM

Dominant Female Vampires!

 

The sight of the handsome male server, naked but for a small apron, was a perfect tonic for Lilly Armitage who was reeling from another humiliating defeat.

 

In need of guidance, she was invited to the mansion of a powerful female vampire where she was inducted into the erotic mysteries of the Sisters of Annis. But as men and women were brought to the edge of their sensual desires, Lilly had a terrifying vision of a world destroyed.

 

With the danger drawing ever closer, Lilly was approached by an old enemy with an offer that would ensure the continuity of her empowering way of life…

 

Buy Now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: PGDevlim
• Release date: Feb 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224097142

PG DEVLIM

PG Devlim isn't a vampire, yet. Maybe one day...  Born in South East England, PG completed a BA with Hons in Theology & Religious Studies before disappearing into the wilderness for a period of solitary reflection. Returning to society with a determination to focus on writing as a career, PG churned out numerous articles on the darker side of the occult world, completed a number of, as yet unpublished, novels and has now published Vampire's Key and Vampire's Fire, the first two books in the Sisters of Annis series, along with, Katie's Server, a stand alone novella set in the same world. Vampire's Fire. He is currently working on the third book in the series, along with another stand-alone Femdom Vampire novella.  Enjoy a power-hungry, orgasm-dripping journey into a dark world where powerful Female vampires are served by naked males. It may just leave you wishing for that tenuous bite from a strange creature on a cold, dark winters night...

Book preview

Sisters of Annis

Vampire’s Fire

Chapter One

Lilly blasted across the modern city, weaving past beautified shop fronts and over queues of stagnant traffic in search of a vampire lord. After their return, she had vowed to rid them from the world; kill them one by one or banish them all together, either way she would ensure that the luxurious lives of the Sisters of Annis would continue uninterrupted.

She sensed his presence, marked by an absence of life that only feeding would satiate. He was cold, ice cold; a frozen wasteland dressed in human form. There was another with him; a woman, enthralled by his dangerous lure; naïve, eager and horny. Lilly homed in on her location, diving low to glide through avenues of stone and glass and past shops designed to lure passing tourists into their Aladdin’s Cave of expensive treasures. Gradually, the hedonistic attractions of Tottenham Court Road darkened into a world of imperial buildings built during the invigorating days of Empire. Tall and robust, they appeared like muscular temples to strength and power.

Lilly sensed the woman was nearby, exiting an exclusive club that few in London were permitted to enter. She shot upwards, passing over the pale grey roof of an imposing structure and descended into a car park where a well-dressed woman hurried towards its lone vehicle.

Nourished by sensual anticipation, the woman’s nervous excitement added an enticing heat to her shapely form and an inviting wetness to the warmth between her legs. It evoked memories of the men and women Lilly had seduced over the past year; hormones firing like the pistons of a high-end car, pussies wet with anticipation, dicks hard and eager for action. All had been instinctively stimulated, teased, and for the most part, denied. Lilly’s satisfaction had come from their blood. She had left their earthly appetites unappeased, preferring to leave them frustrated and desperate for more.

The rear door of the stately building swung open. It banged loudly as it struck the doorstop. The man that exited possessed an air of authority and an arrogance that Lilly found instantly repulsive. He was tall and slim and strolled boldly across the tarmac, his shoulders back, his stride akin to a sergeant major on a parade ground. A black cane struck sharp taps against the tarmac marking his pace as he followed the woman. Did you tell her? he called out.

The woman stopped. Her cheeks red with blusher. False eyelashes fluttered as she spoke. I couldn’t get through.

Lilly watched an auric tug on the woman’s chest. There was red there, too, intimating a health issue. The energy centre between the woman’s legs pulsed with heat.

The vampire closed the gap in a few long strides. He grabbed her ass and squeezed. Her tight skirt rose, exposing a little more thigh. Did you leave a message?

Yes, she gasped. I told her we’re on our way.

Good. You’ll love her. He pulled her close and kissed her roughly on the lips. His hand climbed, sliding from ass to breast. The tips of his fingers lightly pinching her nipples.

Master, I’m so horny, she confided.

Good. I want you dripping by the time we get there.

She grinned. I already am.

A triumphant smile revealed two fangs. That’s what I like. Come on. He took her hand and guided her towards the car, clicking the fob as they approached. Lights flashed, the doors unlocked, and the wing mirrors moved to their outright position.

Above them, Lilly spun in ever tighter circles. She knew the game he was playing. She’d played her own equally intimate version of it. The woman would have to be dealt with too, but it was the player she was interested in. It was the player she had come to kill. He would be the first. All the others had been elusive. Gone before she’d arrived. Regularly leaving a dead body in their wake for the authorities to dispose of.

She shot vertically above dull grey rooftops. The Thames came into view, its broad expanse a mirror of glossy darkness. She flipped and dived, plummeting to earth like a wrathful sky goddess.

The vampire lord glanced up as Lilly closed the distance. His features sharpened into a knife of delighted anticipation. He shoved the lady aside, dropped his cane, and shouted for her to get into the car as he leapt to meet the descending Lilly.

Lilly’s body reformed on impact. He gripped her arms and slung her across the car park. She hit the ground hard, rolled onto her side and scurried to a safe distance to face her opponent.

Bitch of Annis, he declared, striding towards her. I wondered when I would run into one of you whores. He closed the gap in a run and a leap, landing a blow into empty space as Lilly sped away.

This is our world, she warned.

Slut, he sneered, retrieving his cane and swinging it in a cutting arc that sliced through the air between them.

Lilly’s etheric scream was a banshee cry of anger. She dissolved into the black cloud and stormed at the vampire lord. Black tendrils stretched out from the formless shadow, congealed into fingers that wrapped around the end of the cane. The vampire lord snapped it backwards, pulling her towards him as he leapt forward. The tip of his cane stabbed into Lilly’s shapeless form.

You don’t frighten me, little girl, he declared. A slight of mist and speed is nothing compared to the horrors of the abyss.

Lilly’s mind earthed itself in the physical, replacing her ephemeral body with the solid definitions of her tangible shape. Fuck you, she spat, as he followed the attack with another slashing strike from the cane.

She darted away, retreating into the shadows.

You saw my pet Amanda, did you not? he asked, strolling towards her. She and I have a pleasant evening planned; a beautiful candlelit meal with another hot young lady. His head tilted as he watched her. Why not join us? Turn this vacuous war into a momentous act of love. He stepped closer. Stopped and waited for her answer. When Lilly failed to respond he took another step. You are a Sister of Annis, are you not? Served by men who you keep naked and in chastity through some silly need to show that you are in charge. It all seems rather weak, if you ask me. A sinister smile accompanied his words and he took a few more steps, leaving only a few metres between them.

I have nothing to say to you, Lilly replied, shaking off a cold chill of disgust. I am here for your death.

Rather melodramatic, don’t you think? His smile evaporated. He closed the distance in a blast of speed and his cane flashed towards her in another rapid jab to the chest. She caught it before it impacted, her fingers wrapping over the tip. He flicked a button in the handle. Metal spikes, laced with iron filaments stabbed into her hands.

Lilly cried out and tried to free herself. The vampire lord snapped his cane backwards, pulling her with it.

You’re quite beautiful, he remarked as she drew closer. His eyes offered a glimmer of amusement that alleviated the empty coldness she had sensed when out hunting.

She focused her mind, intent on dissolving into the black cloud before he pulled her any closer. Her body shuddered erratically like faulty electrics. The black cloud remained defiantly absent, her hands still pierced by the cane.

He forced her against him. The bleak coldness evaporated as his face loomed close. His features were smooth, cheeks melding seamlessly into a lightly bearded jaw that coated the soft curve of his chin. His smile was enticing and seductive, a pull that might warm the heart of a human woman seeking companionship, understanding and love, only Lilly wanted none of those things.

His smile dropped. He flung her around and flicked the button that drew the spikes back into the cane.

She stumbled away, willing herself to turn again. Fuck! she cursed, as nothing happened.

Iron, it really is a bane to us, isn’t it? He closed the distance in a burst of speed and jabbed her hard in the chest with his cane. She staggered, lost her footing and fell. The vampire lord smiled menacingly as he landed on top of her. A strong thigh thrust between her legs, forcing her thighs apart, and he nudged against her groin. Cold hands locked over her wrists. Join us. He grinned, his long tongue teasing over gleaming fangs. I assure you that it will be a lot more fun than what I am about to do to you.

Lilly’s scream was maniacal and desperate, as much to summon the power that had escaped her as it was to signal her frustration.

To think that Lilly Armitage would be my first Sister of Annis.

Fuck off, she hissed.

We’ve been looking for you. His knee rubbed against her pussy. Lord Ravenscar will be so pleased to know that I have brought him his beautiful Lilly.

I’m going to kill him, she said. I’m going to—

Oh no, you’re not, he jeered. He’s going to make a plaything out of you, Lilly Armitage. You’ll be on your knees sucking our cocks while he fucks you up that tight little arse of yours. He chuckled like a naughty boy before glancing back at the car. Amanda, come here, he said to his pet, who was seated securely in the passenger seat. Take some photos. I want to remember our special moment: When Lilly met Harold.

I’ll kill you, Lilly hissed and pushed upwards. His body remained heavy as though weighted by something beyond muscle and fat. His mouth opened into a fanged grin. The sisters’ time is done. We have returned and you walked straight into my trap. Silly little girl.

Amanda appeared behind him.

Do it, he hissed.

Hesitantly, she raised her phone. The flash went off.

You bastard, Lilly snarled, and struggled again. Panic churned within her as she failed to shift his dead weight. Her heart pounded violently, her eyes darting rapidly in search of a means of escape.

No one’s coming to help you, he said, bringing his face close to Lilly’s. Tight nostrils flared as he inhaled her aroma. That’s not entirely true. We’re coming. All of us. For all of you. Do you want to help me come for you? Or, as I have already suggested, we can forget this charade, turn hatred into peace, war into love, displeasure into... he closed his eyes and inhaled again, mmm, the most intimate of desires.

Lilly turned her head away in disgust. Another flash of white washed over them as his pet took another photo. Lilly screamed, willing the black cloud to return. Still nothing happened.

The woman stepped around them, turning Lilly’s struggle into a surreal drama like the paparazzi snapping the intimate images of a person’s last moments. She took another picture, went to take another but stopped, as a throwaway pop song burst into life from her phone. Hello, she said in a well-spoken voice that betrayed a wealthy upbringing. Yes—

Who is it? the vampire lord asked.

It’s Lord Marshall—

What does he want?

I don’t know, she answered. She raised a hand to silence the vampire lord as she listened to the incoming call. He’s got her... Lilly... Yes. That’s right. We’re in Whitehall. Right. We’ll keep her here. Yes. He said you’d be pleased, my Lord. Do I call you lord? She shrugged. He hung up.

And? the vampire lord asked.

They’re on their way.

Good. We don’t have long. He slid against Lilly’s body. His tongue brushed over the side of her face, drawing a thick line of saliva from cheek to brow. Lilly shivered. His tongue angled across her forehead and trailed down the other side of her face. I can feel how hot she is, he said to his pet. She’s already fed.

She’s pretty, the woman noted.

What’s wrong with you? Lilly cried and pushed again. The immovable weight of the vampire lord obstinately held her in place. He’s a monster.

The vampire lord tutted. That is not kind. We’ve only just met. Anyway, Lilly, you’re mine now.

The words kindled memories of Carl as his face popped into her mind. Elated by her subjugation, it mocked her. The memories flicked a switch deep within her being. She screamed again and a surge of energy exploded, erupting outwards. Lilly blasted the vampire lord from her body. He landed on his car, smashing its windscreen and setting off a screeching alarm.

The vampire lord roared and jumped to his feet, landing squarely on the ground.

Terrified, Amanda stared, transfixed at Lilly.

Why? Lilly asked.

Behind the woman, the vampire lord charged. He’s going to turn me.

He’s going to kill you, Lilly said. Come with me. She offered the woman her hand, but the woman shook her head and backed away.

The vampire lord charged again, his cane swinging before him. Lilly caught the first strike in her hand, the iron burning through her flesh. She missed the second and it scorched her cheek. She shot vertically, willing her body to dissolve into the black cloud. To her relief, it broke apart.

He’s my master, Amanda confessed as Lilly’s form faded from her sight. He’s going to make me immortal.

The vampire lord jumped high, reaching the second floor of a surrounding building. He struck out but missed Lilly, who slipped away. He flung his cane after her. It, too, missed and clattered as it struck a wall, rebounding to land on the tarmac. He landed beside his would-be-daughter, cursing and hissing.

Are you alright? she asked.

You stupid bitch, he sneered and sunk his teeth hungrily into her neck. Boney hands stifled her screams as he took Amanda’s life. Her struggles faded quickly, and as he felt her body go slack, he released her. She collapsed to the floor, dead.

Fuck, he screamed, as the black cloud that was Lilly weaved a pattern into the sky above him. He raced to the other side of the car park, retrieved his cane and leapt again. This time he clung to the top of a high wall before launching another attack that also fell short. Bitch! he shouted as he fell away beneath her.

Lilly continued upwards, passing the high walls of the surrounding buildings. They, too, disappeared to be replaced by rooftops and chimneys that dwindled as she lost herself in the sea of clouds that blanketed the London nightscape.

Shit, she thought, relieved to be free of the vampire lord. His face returned to taunt her. Leering and lecherous. She recoiled and her reaction faltered then stalled her momentum. Her physical body reformed. Clothed in black, her key necklace slapped against her chin as she tumbled like a dark angel banished from heaven. Identifying features shot forth as the earth approached. Skylights and grass roofs offered useless points of reference. Top floor flats, illumined by animated TVs and bedside lamps flashed past. Vehicles and tarmac rushed violently towards her, waiting to catch her fall with stone and metal. A police car, its siren a panicked warning for all to clear the way, flashed dancing blue lights across walls and windows as it sped towards the car park. It was followed by another, more sinister-looking vehicle. They loomed large and lethal as Lilly plummeted to the ground. Change! she cried in desperation, willing herself to return to the black cloud.

The police car swung violently into the car park. Lilly’s body refused her command. The vampire lord dropped to his knees beside the dead woman and faced the oncoming cars. The first car skidded to a halt and two officers got out then hurried over to the couple. She killed her, the vampire lord lied.

Change! Lilly cursed again as her fall drew her towards a violent conclusion beside the vampire lord and his dead pet.

The sinister vehicle pulled into the car park. It stopped beside the police car. Engine still running. No one got out.

Change! Lilly’s body spasmed and exploded into tiny molecules, forming the black cloud once more. She swooped upwards, avoiding the car park and slipping over the roof of the nearest building. Below her passers-by, oblivious to the vampire attack, wandered to undisclosed destinations.

Defeated and deflated, Lilly continued through the sinews of the capital, gliding past two- and three-storey buildings that stood squat beside melancholic tower blocks and plush high-rise structures. She slowed as she reached the pillared dome of St Paul’s Cathedral, its height long surpassed by the modern world. The gentle curve of the ancient river returned to her vision, creeping slow and aged like the world itself. Lilly cut south, gliding above the vein of water, towards the ancient Tower of London and her waiting car. Despite its locale, the last few roads were quietly distinct from the high-velocity of traffic boasted by the West End.

Stefan had parked a few hours ago, ensuring one of the sister’s IT boys had blocked the infestation of London’s cameras from spying on their activities. Dressed in a smart, grey suit, he waited beside Lilly’s black Jag. His blond hair smart from its new cut. He smiled as Lilly reformed before him.

Take me home, Stefan, she said. I feel tired. Something’s not right.

Did you feed, Miss? he asked, sniffing quietly.

Yes. She sighed. He didn’t taste very nice. I let him go. How’s your cold?

It’ll pass. Are you okay?

It didn’t go well. I’m hurt.

What happened? Stefan asked.

It’s my hands. Lilly showed her server her injuries.

How? he asked and offered her his neck.

I’m not going to feed on you, Stefan.

It’s okay, Miss Amy did if she needed to.

Lilly frowned. Are you sure?

Stefan smiled and nodded.

Thanks, she said, and bit into him. The blood was warm but tasted sour, different from what she’d expected. Stefan had been in chastity since she’d accepted his key, even refusing her offer to let him out and enjoy himself. She stopped abruptly. Despite the taste, her wounds quickly healed. I think your cold is affecting your blood.

Sorry, he said and coughed.

Let’s go home.

Stefan pulled a plaster from his jacket pocket and covered the wound. He opened the passenger door for Lilly, closed it, then took his place behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Are you alright?

I really just want to go home, she replied, sitting back in the car and closing her eyes.

That may not be possible.

Why not?

I have news, Miss.

News? Lilly sighed, grabbed her handbag and retrieved her make up.

Travis rang me.

Travis? Lilly said, wincing at her reflection in the mirror. She dabbed the side of her mouth marked by a light stain from Stefan’s blood.

From The Countess.

I know who he is. What did he want?

I know you want to go home, but respectfully, Miss, I think we should go to The Countess.

Why? We’ve not been there since the mourning. I don’t think Evie wants to see me again. She still blames me.

I know, Stefan replied. It’s Edward. Travis said that Miss Evie and Mistress Anastasia are holding court.

Holding court?

They’re trying servers whose mistresses were killed during The Rising. They’ve killed four, so far. Travis said there’s about fifteen of them, Edward included. He sounded worried.

I wish Anastasia would piss off back to Liverpool, Lilly remarked, brushing her hair. What about Chloe? Can’t she stop them? She’s Anastasia’s mother. Or Katie, is she there?

Travis said Chloe doesn’t want anything to do with either of them. I think she’s occupied with training Miss Katie, I mean Katie. Past history and all that. He turned to face her. If you don’t mind, I really think we should go.

Fine, Stefan, Lilly said. The Countess it is, then, but when we’re home, I want you to organise another server for me, so you can rest. Okay?

Yes. Thanks, Miss.

Chapter Two

A subtle movement outside the entrance to the chapter house caught Lady Mortimer’s eye as she walked briskly through the ancient cloisters. Little more than a shifting shadow, it drew still as she approached and formed into a body she recognised. She groaned inwardly and braced herself for another encounter with its owner. Lord Ravenscar’s right hand-man, Ben Carter, had been vulgar enough as a stake, he was worse now that his body hosted the Vampire Lord William Marshall.

Despite the absence of light, she sensed the tall Northerner’s eyes undressing her as she drew closer. She slowed momentarily to flatten her scarf and loosen her jacket in the hope of subduing the curve of her breasts. Discreetly patting her pocket to confirm the can of vampire-repelling mace was still present, she continued at a sharp and forthright pace. Hopefully, he’ll remember Ravenscar’s decree that the vampire lords observe courtly etiquette towards their female colleagues, she thought. That had come after Rachel’s incident. Better not dwell on that. She readied herself for another encounter with one of the coarsest of the islands new inhabitants.

Good evening, Lady Mortimer, Lord Marshall said, retaining Carter’s gruff Yorkshire accent. What a pleasure to see you again. The insincerity in his voice rang as hollow as an alcoholic’s pretence to a last drink.

Muffled shouts and laughter emanated from the old chapel on the other side of the cloisters. I hope the noise of my brothers isn’t keeping you up all night? He stepped out of the shadows causing an outside light to burst into life, his long Nordic face as Mephistophelian as the best of devils. His voice dropped low. If you like, I can keep you up in far more pleasurable ways.

Lady Mortimer curbed her feelings of nausea and contemplated spraying him with the apotropaic mace. At least his screams would be a satisfying lament as she was hauled away to the dungeons. Her hands remained solidly in her pockets. Good evening, Lord Marshall. Back from Scotland already? She came to a halt within the circle of severe white light. Lord Ravenscar asked to see me.

He’s in for a real treat, isn’t he? he said. His mouth morphed into a lecherous leer. We’d all like to see a lot more of you, Lady Mortimer.

Her shoulders and jaw tightened as she stared at the sun-aged strands of the dark oak door. If you would, please?

Marshall closed the distance between them. Tall with broad shoulders, a long, broken nose and enticing blue eyes, physically he looked no different to the stake that Lady Mortimer remembered, yet beneath the veneer of an uncouth oaf there was something sinister. It elicited an uneasy feeling, as though the appearance might fade away to reveal the parasite that had infiltrated his body.

Lord Marshall, she said, Lord Ravenscar will not be pleased if he hears you are preventing me from seeing him.

Spoken like a queen, Marshall replied. His arm snapped at the door handle like a boa striking its prey. We wouldn’t want to displease our beloved leader, would we, Lady Mortimer? He edged the door open, ensuring there was barely enough room for her to squeeze past him. Please, enter. Two long fangs protruded menacingly between the thin band of his lips.

Lady Mortimer sighed irritably. She didn’t move. Wider, please.

His grin widened.

Not your smile, she groaned. Her hand wrapped around the can of mace. Forefinger tapping the nozzle. The door.

I apologise, Marshall said, opening the door wider, but still not wide enough.

Lady Mortimer waited patiently for the vampire’s game to play out. Wider please.

His eyes narrowed, almost squinting. The gap increased by a few more centimetres.

Shaking her head, she slipped through, eyes locked before her, left hand ready to pull the garlic and rose spray from her pocket. She jumped as he pinched her ass. Bastard. He laughed and she quickened her step, shuddering at the noticeable drop in temperature. Behind her, the door closed with an immutable thud.

Despite the enormity of the gloomy chamber its darkness evoked a feeling of oppressive claustrophobia. Shadows welcomed her like serpents coiling around unwary prey. A solitary figure sat motionless at the far end of the hall. Like his compatriot before him, two diabolical orbs fixed upon her as she approached, scrutinising her movements with the concentrated intensity of a master of meditation.

The loud clip of her heels breached the eerie silence as she approached the distant figure. Above her, battle flags fluttered like giant bunting pending an historic festival. The halfway point was marked by a newly installed tomb. Dug into the floor, it was covered in thick glass and bore the name and crest of the absent Lord Alexander. Still missing, he was ranked top of the capture list, relegating Lilly Armitage to an important second place.

Lady Mortimer stopped a few metres from the archbishop’s throne, discreetly shook away an involuntary shiver, and waited for the lord to speak. When he did, his words were as crisp and clear as a frozen night. Lady Mortimer, good evening.

Good evening, Lord Ravenscar, she acknowledged, wondering to what extent the personality of Lilly Armitage’s ex-boyfriend was still present within his body. Carl Smith’s handsome outer form had camouflaged a misogynistic narcissist, one that Lilly had been lucky to survive. Now, his body was host to the leader of the vampire lords.

How are our projects coming along? he asked. His face and hands looked pale and grey as though he belonged in a monotone world.

Lady Mortimer feigned surprise. Have you not seen the building works, Lord Ravenscar?

I have, but I would like to hear your response to my query, Lady Mortimer. I wish you to provide me with all the... he leaned forward, rested an elbow on his knee, his smooth, pale chin on his hand, ... succulent details. You do have some succulent details, do you not? His tongue flicked lizard-like between his lips.

The involuntary shiver returned to worm its way back up Lady Mortimer’s spine. Her shoulders tightened. We are on time and within budget.

He sat back and sighed. No, then.

She took a long, slow breath, willing herself to remain calm and concise. Excavations are continuing as you have directed, but we have located no new tunnels. Nothing yet to indicate any deposits or secret locations.

And the wardings?

She cleared her throat. She’d hoped to avoid that question. Unfortunately, so far we have been unable to duplicate the wardings.

His wooden throne creaked like a body stretched on a rack as he shifted in his seat. When he spoke, his tone remained cool and unemotional, almost clinical. What of our scientists? Are they of no help?

They are doing their best.

Their best has yet to restore the barrier.

Unfortunately, yes, Lady Mortimer concurred. With respect, Lord Ravenscar, they are scientists, not magicians.

The vampire’s brow dropped over his hawkish eyes. That is a shame, Lady Mortimer. I thought you were one of the more able females working for the Brothers of Lazarus. It seems that my original concerns regarding a woman’s ability to conduct her duties as efficiently as a brother have proved to be quite accurate. Keep this up and I shall confer a new role upon you and the rest of your sex.

The tightness in Lady Mortimer’s shoulders spread out through her body threatening to turn relaxed muscle into brittle glass. I would like to point out that our excavations are far from conclusive, she cautioned. The geological surveyors are continuing on the south face of the island. She took another deep breath and added, I appreciate your desire for results, but your continual threats only serve to undermine morale and demotivate your dedicated workforce.

The vampire lord’s tone was colder than the dark chamber. He leaned forward again; a predator readying itself to pounce. Demotivate?

Lady Mortimer forced herself to answer: Yes.

I am not inclined to ask politely, Lady Mortimer, nor to repeat myself. The surveyors and the workforce will either complete the task set them or I shall paint the sea wall with their blood and entrails, while they are still alive. Is that clear?

Lord Ravenscar, may I speak candidly? she asked, her heart racing.

A long silence preceded the dark lord’s answer. You may.

I appreciate how difficult it must be for you, she began.

His response was laced with suspicion. Difficult?

Yes, she continued. Returning to the world after almost a thousand years. Inhabiting the body of a mortal man, one that was almost dead. So many things must feel strange and unfamiliar. I know I cannot hope to understand, but I am here to help you. I do still serve the Brothers of Lazarus.

Lord Ravenscar relaxed back into his throne. His hands came together. Icy white finger tips forming a pyramid before him. Only the throne of red and gold offered a semblence of warmth amidst the surrounding black. Much has occurred, he conceded, that I find difficult to fathom. The world has changed so much. Science has surpassed faith. There is much that I have to unravel. Mysteries to solve, even with the memories of this human body that I inhabit – a hunter of the Sisters of Annis – there are many questions. Your assistance, Lady Mortimer, is warmly welcomed.

Whatever I can do to help you, Lord Ravenscar, Lady Mortimer affirmed, finally relaxing, I will do.

That does raise a question, Lady Mortimer.

A question?

Why, Lady Mortimer... why do you wish to help me? I am a creature of the abyss. My brothers and I have taken possession of the bodies of your soldiers. I have taken over this island. Established myself as ruler and claimed all properties and assets belonging to the Brothers of Lazarus as my own – and my brothers – and yet you wish to help me. Why is that?

My family have been fighting the forces of evil, whatever its face, for generations—

By the accounts of religion, I am evil. Yet you do not attack me, Lord Ravenscar observed. Are you not bound by your duty to destroy me?

I—

Lord Ravenscar raised a hand to silence her. You behave as though everything is unchanged. It makes me wonder, Lady Mortimer, if you are trying to deceive me.

Deceive you?

Your heart rate quickens again, yet the pungent apotropaic in your pocket remains unused.

Lord Ravenscar, you know how your men behave around us. Rachel—

Rachel has been shown her place, he snapped. The other women have remained untouched, have they not? My brothers have shown them both courtesy and consideration. Consideration, were it the eleventh century, they may not have received. Yet, at the same time, you enter my presence with a weapon that can harm me. It brings me to wonder if it is you who cannot be trusted. Your gender is known for its deceit. The story of the first woman, Eve, is a tale that we must never forget. Her seduction and deceit caused the downfall of mankind. I must conclude that you, too, are not being honest with me. His voice dropped to an accusatory whisper: Are you biding your time? Waiting for the right moment to strike? If that is so, Lady Mortimer, you will be waiting for a very, very long time.

Lord Ravenscar, may I remind you that I have a duty of care to the women that work here, Lady Mortimer asserted. If you wish for my honesty, I can confirm that I find your possession of the Brothers of Lazarus quite disgusting in the first instance and a heinous blasphemous in the second. You have taken the bodies of men dedicated to serving God and humanity.

Serving God? Really, Lady Mortimer, do you truly believe that these knights of the white light were ever dedicated to your God? You are aware of the things they did to the sisters they captured?

Lady Mortimer’s teeth ground together. Her lips and cheeks pinched tightly. Your men are worse, she countered. Rachel was a lovely girl; kind and humorous, you have—

She paid the price for her impertinence, Lord Ravenscar bellowed, and serves as a warning to others.

A warning? Lady Mortimer questioned. Have you seen her?

Yes, the quietest maid I have ever had, he replied. You are lucky that I did not allow my brothers free reign upon her flesh.

Lady Mortimer recoiled at his response. She had a life before you turned her into a—

Lord Ravenscar smiled coldly. Come closer, Lady Mortimer.

She didn’t move.

The vampire breathed a haunting exhortation. Closer.

Lady Mortimer forced a reluctant step forward. Then another. She halted at the bottom step. Despite his proximity he seemed remote. A cold and reticent figure, forced into the physical world. He fell still and lifeless. Icy pale on the throne of red and gold. Closer.

Lady Mortimer hesitated. The dead lord flowed from the throne as he arose. It was an effortless manoeuvre that negated both skeletal and muscular exertion. Do not be afraid, Lady Mortimer, he comforted softly. He extended his hand. His fingers were long and pale grey. Fingernails shaped into sharp points.

She climbed the steps slowly, her feet weighted by trepidation and an unanticipated excitement that left her feeling giddy as though she were a hormonal teenager crushing on a movie star. Despite herself she accepted his hand. His thumb rubbed back and forth over hers, intimating another, more sensual connection. Lady Mortimer bit her lip. Her heart beat switching from fear to anticipation. What’s going on? She thought. I hate him... don’t I?

Lord Ravenscar’s voice took on an enticing cadence. His tone was deep, his words crisp and precise. I would be obliged if you would help me, Lady Mortimer. He pulled her close, released her hand, and reached up to her mouth. His forefinger pressed gently to her lips. Will you help me?

I... She swallowed. All thoughts of the invasive parasite were forgotten and replaced by an intoxicated attraction. His pallid face was ruggedly handsome, like a rough sketch of Adonis scribbled by a portrait artist.

His finger slipped downwards, gently plucking at her bottom lip. You shall come to no harm. I shall protect you.

Lady Mortimer’s lips tightened. His hand fell away, returning to clutch the arch of her back. He pulled her forward until her body pressed against his.

Lord Ravenscar, she said breathily. I cannot—

I see, he said and released her. When he spoke again his cold, calculated words severed the magical connection. I suggest you return to the floor.

She hesitated. Despondent at his sudden rejection and yet anxious that he might leap and feed were she to turn away.

Now, he insisted.

She did as instructed, her body tense, anticipating the imminent attack. None came and she resolved herself to resuming their business. The chill of the room returned and she tightened her scarf before slipping her hands into her pockets. The cold shaft of the can of mace offered a tentative sense of protection.

Tell me again how the work on our barrier is proceeding.

Lady Mortimer paused to compose herself. His intention of seduction was gone, replaced by a diabolical gaze through two orbs of hard ice. We need the vitki.

The vitki?

I believe we know how the initial wardings worked. In theory, at least.

We do? This is the first I have heard of it.

It would help if we spoke to Sarah. She might be able to—

No! he snarled, shooting up from his throne. His response burst forth in a blast of words. Lord Alexander managed to keep it in place for decades. All you have to do is restore what was there. Is that too much to ask?

Lord Alexander used a vitki – a runic magician, for want of a better explanation - to ward the island in the 1960s, she replied. At a time when the Sisters of Annis were making their presence felt again. If we could talk to Sarah, she might be able to—

I said no. He slumped back down. His voice mimicked his action, low and tired. She is not available. I will help you find the damn Anglo-Saxon.

We know the vitki was in the New Forest because he trained our undercover agents, but since your return he has disappeared.

I want him found, Lady Mortimer.

We believe the vitki used other locations in the New Forest. From the information found in Lord Alexander’s office we have the names of a few of these but nothing that matches anywhere in the New Forest, at least, not by any known modern or historic names. One thing did stand out however, and that was mention of the fact that the vitki needs to be connected to the land to perform his magic.

I want you to find him and bring him here, the vampire lord said. I will arrange for Marshall and Warren to accompany you.

Lord Ravenscar, I’m not sure Lord Marshall is the best choice, he—

I wish him to accompany you, along with Lord Warren.

You wish me to go, personally? I have so much to do here. The defences are—

Useless without the barrier, Lord Ravenscar said. You will go with Marshall and Warren. Fail, Lady Mortimer, and our next meeting will include a seamstress. Do you understand?

I don’t know where to start, I—

How short would you like your skirt, Lady Mortimer?

The image of Rachel popped into her head. She clenched her teeth. I understand, Lord Ravenscar.

You’d make a pretty maid, Lady Mortimer.

Her smile was tight and forced. Her finger danced over the nozzle of the apotropaic mace. If that will be all?

Tell me about your search for Lord Alexander and Lilly Armitage?

Inwardly, she sighed. How much longer until I can go? "Ongoing, on both accounts. The few properties of Amy Ward that we have traced, have all been sold. If Lilly did inherit Amy’s properties they are well hidden. Though it is possible that she has purchased her own. We are scouring the cities in the hope that we might capture some sisters who can offer clues to her whereabouts. We will find them."

Lilly Armitage attacked one of my brothers in London less than an hour ago, Lord Ravenscar stated.

Lady Mortimer looked shocked. Is he alright?

I would have thought you might ask if she survived?

Of course, yes, I mean, I know she had... certain powers. Did she... survive?

Yes. She killed his pet and escaped. My men are searching London as we speak.

Hopefully they will find her, she said.

My brothers will find her, Lady Mortimer. Now, you have preparations to make. I shall see you before you leave.

She curtsied and promptly walked off into the darkness.

Lady Mortimer, Lord Ravenscar called out as she reached the centre of the frozen chamber.

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

Tell me, how did the barrier work?

Magnets, Lady Mortimer replied. Just as two positive magnets repel one another, so negative magnets do the same. The vitki can perform some kind of magical ritual that will act as a magnet to repel the same quality or energy.

Good, he said. That will be all.

She walked on. Resisting the urge to run but still clutching the unused can of apotropaic.

Remember, Lady Mortimer, he called out after her, a seamstress is only a call away.

Lady Mortimer saw herself dressed as a French maid. She was forced forward over a table, her short skirt pulled up over her ass, her see-through panties exposing everything. Standing behind her, Lord Ravenscar unzipped his fly as he approached. She pushed the image away in favour of sending the vampire lord and his kin back into the black from whence they came.

Chapter Three

You know the deal, Gabriela said from her seat at the kitchen table. If you love me you’ll do what I ask.

Adrian stared at the clean window behind her, its net curtain having been torn down during a previous row when she’d broken the only other seat in the room. That argument, caused by a negligible something that he couldn’t even remember, had remained unresolved. It led them to retread the same, well-worn battle lines; her insisting he should do as she wished and as he’d promised, he asserting his desire for an equal share in their relationship and that he’d hoped she hadn’t really meant it.

Across the street, their neighbour’s scruffy dog, chained on an unkempt lawn, barked irritably as two cholo’s slinked their way through the project. They were a familiar sight at that time of night; local guys heading out to catch a beer and chase some pussy. They’d shoot some pool, shake some deals and head home, topped up by beer, dicks still sober from the lack of contact, in the early hours.

You know that’s not going to happen, Gabriela, Adrian replied.

His answer was a slap to her face. The changes in the Latina were unambiguous; chola Jeckyl became vampire Hyde. Her deep, dark brown eyes, augmented by long lashes, grew cold and distant. Her lips tightened concealing her fangs.

He wanted to speak, to reassure her that they could work through their differences, but sensing the impending eruption, he refrained.

Her gaze fell to the floor. Her smooth, foundation-coated chin trembled. She shook her head, and an earthquake of long curls tumbled about her bare shoulders. Take off your clothes.

Adrian’s heart thumped harder. What? Why?

Because I fucking said so, that’s why. There was no light refrain to her words, no hint of playfulness or glimmer of amusement to her tone, nothing to take the edge off her instruction. Her words were cold and coarse, the speech of a take-no-shit chola. Your clothes go, or you do.

You could have kicked me out months ago, he reminded her. But you didn’t. You don’t want to kick me out now, either. This is about respect, about street cred, about how your sisters see you.

The storm clouds that darkened her face didn’t stop Adrian. This time there would be no placation. He’d done that too many times. Vampire or not, as far as he was concerned, she just needed love, and a god-damned fucking, after a damn good spanking. He was sure that she knew it too. Somewhere beneath that tough chola exterior, you know you need me, he continued. The changes you’ve gone through. What Sunita did to you. He swallowed, not wanting to say it but knowing he had to: What my troop did to Tonia.

The table erupted as she burst from her seat. It smashed into a cupboard, impaling the plywood door with one of its hard wooden legs.

Her shoulders thrust forward. Her arms clung to her sides like a gunslinger ready to draw. I told you never to talk about her, she snarled. Ever.

You need to talk about her, Adrian countered. "We need to talk about her."

You have no fucking right, Gabriela hissed. Now, get fucking naked or get fucking gone.

He didn’t move.

Get out! she screamed. She grabbed a table leg, ripped it from its mounting, and launched it in his direction.

Adrian side-stepped and blocked, knocking it away. It hit the nearest unit, denting another door as it clattered to the floor.

I’ll play your kinky game, he said, but not when you’re like this and not permanently.

She laughed at his response. "Kinky game? You think this is a kinky game? I’m a fucking vampire, Adrian. A fucking vampire! Vampiras Latinas bitch! You’re lucky I haven’t killed you. Fucking failure of a white ass boi."

I didn’t kill her, he bellowed. Do you hear me? He shook his head. His face muscles tight, skin stretched in proportion to his patience. I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill Tonia. You already killed those responsible. His chest bulged as he took a deep breath. They’re dead.

So’s my fucking sister, she screamed, and charged.

He struggled to resist, to balance endurance with understanding, to stand his ground as she pummelled his chest with fists. She had weaponised his love for her, used it in direct response to his inability to prevent her sister from being killed. Gabriela, stop, he shouted. Stop. Stop. When she didn’t he caught her wrists and held on to her like a rodeo rider clutching a mare that refused to be broken in.

His defence enflamed her anger, it erupted in furious glory. Her wrists snapped parallel circles, breaking his hold, and she bulldozed him into the refrigerator. He grunted as the air was shocked from his lungs. She leapt onto him. Long, sharp teeth penetrated his flesh, drilling deep to the bloody vein.

Another time he would have surrendered to her. Sacrificed his body and blood to give her more life. His submission would drive her desires. He would strip naked, worship her body with lips and tongue and cock. Now he wanted to fight. Needed to prove that he was still a man. Integrity intact. Will unbroken.

Like thawing ice her cold lips warmed against his throat. Adrian’s heart pounded beneath his ribcage as she purged his body of his blood. Gabriela, he gasped, stop. He clawed at her shoulders, struggling to push her away.

Her response welded her body to his. Locking them together in a rapacious embrace, focused solely on taking his essence. Her lips tightened, cementing the seal over the open wound. They were hot now and wet, and induced in him a primal desire to take her. Gabriela, he whispered again. Please. Stop. He pushed again, attempting to free himself from the immovable force.

The gluttonous sound of the Latina feeding stifled his hopes for diplomacy. He forced an arm upwards, wedging it between their bodies. His hand opened, fingers locked on her throat, and squeezed. Gabriela, stop.

Flushed with his blood, she swiped his hand away and withdrew, emitting a long, loud gasp that sprayed his face with a mixture of his hot blood and her salty saliva. Her eyes were wild, aflame with bloodlust and desire. She staggered away like a drunkard, stopped a few feet from him, petrified into a mesmerising goddess. Behind her the kitchen door was closed. Its clean window the only success story of their intention to start again.

Giddy from the loss of his life force, Adrian steadied himself against the worktop, his head tilted to one side. Blood trickled along his jaw from the open wound. It formed into a line of gooey red that dribbled from his chin and stretched like an intestinal tract. It thickened until its weight broke the strand and it hit the floor. Gabriela was out of the door before the bloody saliva had come to a stop.

*

A month later Adrian was established in a small one-bedroom apartment in the coastal district of San Pedro, Los Angeles. His living room, tatty at best, had been transformed into a working office where a patchwork of maps of the United States were spread out over a makeshift table created from an old desk and scaffold boards that rested on the backs of chairs. Black pins marked areas highlighted in shades of orange and red. The latter indicated the intensity of the inferno that had devastated the Western continental United States since the beginning of June. Despite heavy and at times persistent rain, fire season had continued well into fall. Numbered tags, attached to each pin, corresponded to a timeline of events spread across two adjacent walls.

Adrian sipped his coffee, strong, black and sugarless, his third in a row, and reflected on his findings. As far as he could tell, at least 80% of the fires had started around the same time of day: sunset. The media attributed them to the work of a millennial cult dedicated to bringing about Armageddon. Their job, so the hypothesis went, was to erase both town and countryside from the Book of Life, in preparation for the rapture and the return of their messiah.

There were innumerable discrepancies to the accepted reports. Images drawn by talented artists and photographs taken by members of the public were explained away by reporters and scientists alike as nothing more than cultists wearing specially made suits.

Adrian’s conclusion concerning the architects of the ‘Inferno Year’, as it had been tagged by the media, was markedly different to that of the so-called ‘experts’. Of the fourteen witnesses that he’d spoken to, the majority had confirmed the pyromaniacs had ignited only when they had been hit by sunlight. None of them had appeared to be wearing suits and the authorities were quick to dispel any rumours that these were creatures hitherto unknown to the world.

He finished his coffee, washed the mug and placed it on the side, then returned to the timeline. What kind of monster are you? he mused, as he studied the grotesque photograph he’d pinned at point one. Burnt crisp black, the creatures flaked skin looked like gradients on a topographical map. Two tall vertical lines struck above and below the sides of the creature’s crisp torso. There was no indication that this was a suit containing a human body. No variance to the degree of burnt flesh, no melting of plastic or rubber that contrasted against blackened skin or charcoaled bone. To Adrian, all was part of one creature.

The ex-stake pulled the image from the wall and returned to the map. Number one was the furthest north, just outside Redmond, Oregon, and east of the Cascade Mountains. It was recorded as the