Bloodbound

[Mallory]

May 20th, 2018.

The Kabuki Street school library was dark even in broad daylight, towering (and empty) shelves blocking light from the windows, and most of its overhead lights removed years ago when the school was abandoned. Two portable halogen lamps cast bright beams across the stacks, enough for an inspector to do a final check with Mallory before renovations began in two weeks.

The witch lingered for nearly an hour after the inspector was gone, as making a quick note about book donations turned into a full review and updating of the renovation budget. The one-time donations were the easiest to track, cash supplied directly by Patrick, Roka, Jewell, Pharlen and others; while tailored contributions were more difficult to track, like Saori and Mai's allotment for an archery range, and Collie and Ebon's provision of labor and labor funds.

But the most difficult was the revenue streams, which mostly came from the Twilight Isle. It had started simply enough, as Mallory learned to master her powers as the new Keeper of the Tower of Earth, transmuting copper ore into roughly a pound of high-purity gold every day. Then, following her unexpectedly dramatic challenge with Andrea, the Keeper of Fire had allowed earth elementals to begin pulling resources from closer to her volcanic Tower, adding a supply of highly pressurized gemstones to the revenue. Lastly, the new Keeper of Water, Michelle, had agreed to Mallory's request to access her domain and even tasked her own elementals with assisting in harvesting a small number of high-quality pearls every day.

Altogether, it provided a massive stream of capital for the new school, while figuring out who to sell the increasingly diverse resources to, and when, took more of the witch's time than she had to spare. Spending the better part of an hour floating in the water off the Twilight Isle on Saturday, supervising Phil while he called Michelle's challenge, was the only time Mallory could think of where she had actually relaxed in the past week.

"I need a vacation," she mused aloud as she finished her tally.

In the wake of her own words, she turned her head to listen to the silence of the school around her, and realized she was not alone. The Fujii twins were still here occasionally, gathering more of their things while they prepared their new home, but the sound of a hurried, scuffing pace squeaking its way down the hall towards the library marked one of the rengou-kai's shrimps as the most likely culprit.

"Yui," Mallory greeted the girl, who deliberately changed her posture to seem less hurried as soon as she came into view. There was a slouch and an affected laziness to her gait that was out of step with her speed, and in a few seconds she'd crossed the library to offer a sealed envelope to the witch.

"Douzo," Yui mumbled, thrusting the envelope out at the witch and looking away, as if uninterested -- contrary to the way she kept peeking over.

"Arigatou," Mallory said, managing not to laugh, though she was soon distracted by the nature of what she held. The envelope was made with old-fashioned packing paper, bound with twine, but bore few stamps or markings besides its green wax seal -- the face of a gargoyle, its teeth bared in anger. She glanced over her shoulder, but when she didn't immediately see Yui, she set the envelope down on the table and stretched out her left hand.

Her left ring fingernail lengthened and sharpened, sliced across her palm, and three drops of blood turned to mist in the air as her eyes turned solid red with Sight.

There were magical protections on the envelope, though none of them appeared to be traps. A ward against scrying; a second, against both fire and water; a third, to let the sender know when it was broken. Seeing no way to prevent the last ward from being tripped, she unsealed the envelope with her fingernail and spilled the contents onto the table.

The first item was a type of check, common enough in Dockside near the merchant houses. It detailed instructions for withdrawing from the indicated account, her name (printed here as Mallory Maeda), and an amount -- "Two hundred thousand nobles?!" she breathed, and hurriedly ripped open the letter beside it to read.

To Mallory, our dear lost Nadya,

If you have not already learned this, the name Nadya is the name you had at birth, given to you by your family, the Volokhovs. We are a proud, ancient family of magicians in the city of Vyrna, and as the family's matriarch, I am proud to count you as one of our own. It was a curse of the devil you know as Samuel Adder, inflicted by an ill-conceived bargain on the part of your parents, that caused all of us to forget you had ever lived; but when his spirit perished, we remembered what we once had, and had tragically lost.

I cannot begin to tell you how heartbroken your whole family was to learn of how we lost you. Nor can I properly express to you the depths of our grief and regret for the decades we should have spent together, that have been ripped away from us by foolishness and malice. I can only apologize for your parents' grave sin against you, and swear to you by all that I hold dear that I had no knowledge of it, nor would I have ever permitted it.

I am heartened to hear of your successes in the land of RhyDin. You have fought your way from nothing to a place of prominence, and gained extraordinary magical prowess for your years. The women of our family are known for their claws, child, and you are no exception to the rule. You should be proud of this, and I am proud of you.

I can only imagine how difficult this must be to hear, and to take in all at once. And I can only assume you have little knowledge of me personally, and of the rest of your family. As an assurance of our good intentions, and to support your ambitions, I have moved a sum to a merchant bank intended for the school that you are reopening. May its success open ever more doors for you, my Nadya.

I have inscribed the sigil of our house on the back of this letter, a closely guarded means of reaching us directly that I am entrusting to you, as one of our own. I hope to hear from you soon, and that we may arrange to meet at long last; but whatever your choice, I am glad of your welfare and to be of any support to you, and will remain

Your babushka,

Jeza Volokhov

By the time Mallory finished the letter, she was in the grips of panic, letting the paper fall from her shaking hands as she darted nervous looks at the nearby bookshelves and windows as if she might find a spy lurking there. Something shifted in the doorway, and she clenched her left hand into a bloody fist and invoked her Sight again.

Red eyes flashed at Yui lurking there, who started in fright and dashed off down the hallway.

Mallory did not pursue or call after her, too fixated on the threat: “Ancient and powerful mages... watching me closely...” She shook her head, continuing to mutter as she dug out her phone, tapping out a message to several members of what she considered to be her real family...

[Bloodbound]

September 3rd, 2019 - The Red Dragon Inn.

There was a young man at the bar, someone who appeared to be in his early twenties -- a student or apprentice of some kind, judging by the partially open messenger bag of books he'd laid on the counter, the way his clothes were rather fine but rumpled, and the ink stains on his fingers. He carefully swept his bangs back from his brow as he bent over a ledger on the bar, and a mug of black tea with an RPS logo and a chipped handle was close at hand. He hadn't been here too long -- just long for the steam rising from his tea to become a single wisp.

A silent figure slipped in through the front door and edged her way through the commons. She was pale, with striking green hair, and appeared somewhat distracted by the notebook she had in hand, busily scribbling notes as she walked.

The young man smiled at the rather familiar sight of someone else who at least appeared young with her nose in a book, scribbling away, and tried to use that moment of distraction to replace the ledger in its former location without calling attention to it. "Good afternoon." He did not flash his teeth when he smiled, lips closed as they curved a little slyly. "Is there anything I can get for you while I am back here? I see it is..." He leaned forward, inspecting a sign on the bar, and laughed quietly. "...self-serve, but I do not think anyone will hassle me for offering."

The quiet figure stopped in her tracks long enough to blink up at the young man owlishly. She'd missed anything of importance that he may have been doing as her brain shifted gears. "Oh... Ah, no thank you." She smiled back, also not showing teeth.

He seemed... insightful? perceptive? curious, at the very least. His eyes took note of her features, namely her paler-than-fair skin. "Very well." He shouldered his messenger bag, but didn't seem to be leaving just yet, taking his tea with him to stand at the patron side. "Do you come here often? to this inn?" he added, looking around at the scarred-up bar, the dusty rafters, and the great mounted dragon head with a bemused grin.

"Yup." This was a question she could more easily answer. "For a few years now," she added, with a glance in the direction of the hearth and the comfy cushions over there. "I don't think I've seen you around before?" Unlike the man, the woman's clothes were near immaculate and well turned out, a black blazer and vest over a white cotton shirt and knee length skirt, with not an unwanted ruffle or crease to be found. Stockings and ankle high shoes completed the outfit.

There was a paleness about the man, too -- though not so striking as hers, offset by a few tan areas left behind by sunburns. He wasn't used to the weather here. "I've been by a few times... but haven't gone in until today. Pavel," he offered, along with his hand -- soft, and a little bit ink-stained. "There is a strange charm to the place... and I keep hearing stories about it."

"Lesinda," she replied with a dip of her head. "It does." She paused for a second at the offered hand before taking it gently -- if hurriedly -- and released it with a quick smile. Her skin, while not overly cold, was slightly cooler than one might normally expect.

The man who called himself Pavel felt about as warm as one would expect for a human. "I am embarrassed to admit this, but... I was shopping at a store called the Lyceum recently, and they undercharged me for components. They seemed to have missed the most expensive item. But when I tried to return to the spot to correct the matter, well..." He set his tea down with a sigh. "It is a magic shop. You know how those places can be. When I returned, the door was gone."

Lesinda's nose wrinkled slightly as she caught the scent of... something off about this man. A whiff of the blood of a fellow kindred, though not flowing through his veins. She considered Pavel more closely for a moment, nodding in understanding as he finished. "Yes, there are a quite a few shops like that, often governed by a desire of necessity... I guess the Nexus decided you needed the part more than you needed to pay fully for it?" she said, tilting her head to one side.

"Yes, but you see, honor compels me to be honest." He cupped a hand around the side of his mouth to playfully stage whisper, "I am an apprentice and it is the old master's money, anyhow -- if I do not pay it to the shopkeeper, it simply goes into his pocket, and it is quite the sum." He smiled slightly, resting his hand on his tea mug again. "Mallory was the owner's name. Young woman, short dark hair, ram's horns on her head. I've been hoping to find her before I have to return to my master and pay the piper, so to speak."

"I can't say that I'm familiar with her," Lesinda said with a smile. "That sounds like you've got a bit of conundrum on your hands!" And now the vampiress grinned, although her teeth still failed to make a show. "I'm sure you won't end up in too much trouble for someone else's mistake, though? You did try to find the shop again, after all."

"It is not trouble so much as... I would rather not return three hundred nobles to a a miserly old man who pays too little as it is." He shifted his bag on his shoulder and set his tea down, now empty. "I will endeavor to keep trying, however. Maybe it is less honor and more... spite for the old man," he chuckled, glancing at the water clock and back. "Thank you anyway, Lesinda."

"You're welcome, I hope you find a solution to your problem," Lesinda replied with a dip of her head, glancing over at the clock herself before looking back at Pavel. "Need to leave soon?"

"Now, sadly. I shall keep my eyes and ears open for an hour or two longer -- then it is back to my master's study." There was a subtle gesture as he adjusted his pants pocket -- with a subtle bit of somatic spellwork, an envelope of coins shifted to the vampiress' pocket -- and then he was on his way out the door. "Good evening, Lesinda."

Lesinda offered a wave in his direction. "Good evening, it was nice to meet you Pavel." She smiled after him, returning to her notebook as the door shut on his retreating back.

((Adapted from live play with Lesinda, with thanks!))

[Mallory]

September 10th, 2019 - Kabuki Street.

After lunch and a shortened afternoon class (her students had raced through her quiz faster than expected), Mallory was making her way out through the busy front doors of the Kabuki Street Community School and into the bustling street. She was one of dozens of faces in the crowd, though her horns stood out -- the only other horned being present was an adolescent minotaur, excitedly showing his friends a holovid of a "real" ghost sighting.

The witch scanned the crowd for a few moments, then found a spot on the other side of a street sign where she could pause to check her phone and reply to her messages.

Another being that had slightly distinct features was a green-haired vampiress, frowning over the crowd. She was looking for someone very specific, and in this city.... the description wasn't very helpful at all. Just how many horned women were there?! But it seemed this street was somewhat devoid of them, minus one, who was on her phone. The vampiress paused in the street and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She didn't really enjoy being out in the open very much, but at least she was surrounded by the crowd. She felt in her pocket for the note that crinkled when her fingers found it and considered the woman again. She seemed to fit the bill.

Mallory seemed oblivious to the scrutiny, even as she put her phone away and checked the crowd again. She heaved a sigh, muttered a quiet swear in one of the languages she wasn't teaching to the students here, and began to move into the street.

Shift-shift, the vampiress came to a decision. To be indecisive. She would follow the woman for a moment and see where she went. After all, if she ended up going to the shop, that would seal the deal, wouldn't it?

Mallory hadn't gone very far, though, when she was checking her periphery again. She'd felt safer with Trick and Red to back her up, but something had her on edge -- enough that she caught the green-haired figure following her.

One moment, Mallory was in front of her, pulling what sounded like keys from her bag--

--then she was a few feet behind Lesinda. The smell of blood filled the air around them, emanating from a small tear in her left palm, apparently torn open by her own keys. Her blood smelled sweeter than most, suggesting its power and potency. "I remember you. From the Perch. Why are you following me?"

Lesinda had been in the middle of gearing up to push on the extra dozen or two steps needed to cross the distance and tap the woman on the shoulder, something to get her attention, when she suddenly wasn't there. Les stopped, her reactions being faster than a normal human's would.
And then there was blood. Only a little, but enough. Enough for her nose to twitch and for the vampiress to pivot on the spot, wide eyed at the woman. Her blood smelled good. "Ah... I-I'm sorry... I..." Lesinda stammered, taken off guard, and thrust a hand into her pocket, pulling out her hip flask to down a measure. Or two.

Mallory waited. She watched Lesinda and kept her bloody left hand tense, fingers bent at ugly, spider-like angles.

This was harder than Lesinda had been expecting. It was the blood that did it. She found it difficult to remove her eyes from the hand and had to take another swig before forcing herself to look Mallory in the eye. "You... your name is Mallory, isn't it? You... uh, run a shop near here?"

"That's right. The Lyceum. Why do you ask?" The witch didn't lower her hand, still anticipating a threat, though she hadn't done anything else -- no spells or summonings.

The Lyceum! That was the name! Lesinda hadn't been sure she'd heard him right and she gave a shaky smile before visibly taking a hold of herself. Why was she nervous? She was doing the man and woman a favor, after all! She smiled less forcefully, seemingly to gather herself and dig around in her pocket once more before presenting the package to Mallory. A bright smile on her face as she did so. "A man named Pavel came into the Red Dragon the other day. It seems you under charged him for some items he bought the other day, and I said I would try and get the outstanding amount back to you." She spared a small glance at the bloody hand. It smelled... sweet.... quite nice, actually. A distinct distraction...

Mallory lowered her left hand cautiously, taking note of Lesinda's distinctive pallor... then accepted the package with her right hand. "Oh... oh, I thought we'd come up short that day!" There was a sudden, relieved laugh from the witch, and as the tension in her hand relaxed, the cut and the resulting blood both vanished in a puff of steam. Perhaps maddeningly, the smell still lingered in the air, though the source was now enclosed by her flesh. "Pavel... the name rings a bell, but we have a lot of customers.... I'm sorry. I can be kind of... jumpy," smiling apologetically at Lesinda, and opening the package absently.

Lesinda smiled. With the actual blood gone, she was much better. The scent was something she might pick up for days but with it out of sight, it was nearly out of mind! She gladly handed the package over with another smile. "I understand," she replied. "I'm just glad I found you! I wasn't sure I had remembered the name of the store right, and by the time I had gotten there, you had already left." The hip flask was stowed back into its pocket, safe and secure, while the vampiress spoke.

There was a curious look in Mallory's eyes as she spilled the gold coins into her hand, as if confused or distracted, as the threads of a potent charm spell tried to wind their way around her mind... but her will proved a little too strong this time. She blinked, frowned as she tried to make sense of the feeling, and slowly returned the coins to the envelope. A small shake of her head in an effort to compose herself. "I owe you a proper introduction, at least. Mallory Maeda," she offered, extending her right hand for a shake.

Lesinda hesitated as she always did, before taking the offered hand and gave a quick shake. She was wearing leather gloves, and while they were colder than one might expect, it was not by very much at all and could be explained away easily. "Lesinda... Helston," the vampiress supplied, choosing one part of her name as the whole thing was a bit much. "My parents own the Silverblood Lines in the market square, you might have heard of it?" Her adoptive mother made every thing from normal wear and cloaks all the way to upmarket lingerie, so it was a somewhat memorable shop as a result!

"I've heard of that, I think -- but I've definitely heard of the Helstons," Mallory grinned. "I've got to run home and take care of a few errands before work tonight -- but it was nice meeting you, Lesinda. And... thanks," jangling the envelope of coins.

Les smiled and dipped her head. "I'm glad I was able to help!" the vampiress said and dipped her head again. This had been a good day! And it seemed it was going the end on a high note too!

The witch waved after Lesinda, and continued her path up Kabuki Street -- west, away from the school and towards home.

* * * * *

In a matter of hours, the rengou-kai had the face and alleged name of the man who had attempted to ensorcell Mallory's mind -- and orders for their fearsome habu, Riho Matsuda, to find him and beat the answers out of him.

((Adapted from live play with Lesinda, with thanks!))

[Mallory]

September 19th, 2019 - following a fateful encounter...

The shinsengumi's headquarters was a low concrete building, half set at basement level on a lot between an apartment building and a coin laundry. The upper windows showed some light along with the two thick frosted panes in the heavy front door. Inside were the remains of a lobby area, the counter remaining from the time that the building had been a watch station. The lights seen from the windows came from two overhead fixtures in glass globes. The space in front of it had a row of chairs for sitting, and the u shaped counter itself. Seen through a threshold behind this reception area was a room lined with lockers and a glimpse of a staircase heading down to the fully underground level.

Riho was seated in an office chair behind the front counter, presently examining her jacket which had a large hole burned in one of the upper sleeves. There was a faint frown on the habu's face, though her posture in her seat was relaxed with heavy boots propped up and shoulders slumped. After a moment she draped the damaged jacket on the arm of the chair and plucked her phone from her lap to glance at the screen.

It wasn't long after Mallory's last message that she arrived at the infamous special police headquarters. Her eyes were cold and angry, and her lips twisted downward in an open scowl as she pushed through the door. A satchel clattered at her hip, filled with glass vials sloshing with fluid.

Riho's slumped posture straightened when the door to the station opened, already on her feet by the time the witch was completely inside. "Hi, Mallory." The habu had been around the witch long enough to speak informally. "You got here quick," she added with a touch of a smile pulling up the corners of her own mouth. "So, do you want to keep him down there? Or are you taking him with you?" she asked, holding the phone loosely in her grasp as she moved toward the threshold to the room with the lockers.

Mallory breathed a sigh through her nose, though it didn't seem likely her irritation was with the habu. "Depends on if he gives me a straight answer... but I've arranged transport either way," she added. Her gaze ticked back and forth in place, a sign of narrowly controlled panic and anxiety. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "I'd like to see him."

Riho's head tilted, listening, the bright braid woven into her hair toppling down the sleeve of her distinct gray seifuku top, and nodded firmly at her answer. "He's down here," she said, making a gesture to follow toward the stairs, in what appeared to serve as a break room with its lockers, some chairs and tables and a large festive bulletin board on the wall filled with pictures of the elusive shinsengumi girls at the bowling alley, at cookouts, and other relaxed scenes. The staircase was lit only by one bulb, and at the bottom was an even heavier door that Riho paused to produce a key to unlock.

Past the door was one corridor which she moved down quietly, the tread of her boots light, passing by open doors that revealed a pair of offices, and came to a t-junction at the far end connecting the corridor with the two holding cells, their purpose apparent even from outside by the slots undoubtedly purposed to deliver food. Riho's keys jingled as she opened the cell door on the right, her hand moving to switch on a light on the hallway wall that illuminated the cell brightly. The prisoner inside was unmoving, laying on the bed that was bolted to one concrete wall, tied with a multitude of plastic cable ties and still wearing a somewhat bloody cloth sack over his head.

Mallory stood by the cell entrance, staring for a long moment... then seemed to fight something down, and started a series of rapid-fire questions: "Is he gagged?"

Riho nodded. "He is. Didn't want him talking until it's time. He burned up my jacket with magic," she added with a barked laugh.

"Did you find any trinkets on him?"

Riho's head shook quickly. "None"

"Any tattoos or markings?"

The habu's head shook once more. "No, none of any sort"

The witch took two steps forward, pausing at Riho's side... then offered her a roll of cash. Something other than fear and anger finally touched her expression, however briefly. "Go get yourself a badass jacket. You earned it."

Riho's expression as she looked at the unconscious and hooded form on the bed had become a sneer, but when she saw the roll of cash offered to her it changed to a big grin. She accepted the cash with a bow of head. "Thanks!" she said, looking around the small confines of the cell space. "If you want I can wait outside, in case you need any help," she offered. "Someone's coming in to take over my watch just now, but I don't mind staying late."

"He's awake," Mallory replied as she stepped up beside his bed. She fished out a few coins that formed into a small silver knife with a metallic hiss, which caused his wet, ragged breathing to come through his hood more rapidly and franticly. "Punch him in the face... six times," she decided, which caused him to start squirming as much as he was able.

Riho was reputed to be quick, and it seemed so as she was a pace past Mallory quick enough to miss her in a blink when she heard the request. Looming over the warlock, her fist rose and fell with a heavy sound into his face, precisely six times with a space of a second between the blows.

It was enough time for Mallory to cut the plastic bindings on his wrists, conjure thorny vines with a twisted gesture, and harden them into gleaming stone by grasping the necklace tucked into her shirt and uttering a Primordial word.

He let out a muffled groan from the pain of Riho working him over, as Mallory made short work of the remaining bindings. "Stand him up, please."

"It's personal," Riho assured the prisoner in response to his muffled groans after Mallory was finished securing him and she began pulling him to his feet with a hand around his neck. "I really liked that jacket... mushi," she informed him near his ear in a low and deceptively pleasant tone. "Up you go," she muttered, holding him steady as he tried to slump over.

Mallory tucked the knife into her right hand, holding her left hand free as she awkwardly tugged his hood and his gag loose. His face was darkly bruised and bloody, but his eyes were open enough to stare at Riho... and Mallory. He began intoning rapid syllables, eyes rolling back, the thin red veins on them widening and darkening--

"παύση," the witch hissed as she plunged the knife into her own palm, and the shadowy sparks of his magic fizzled out, replaced by three lashing crimson threads as the pain she'd inflicted on herself carried over to him, three times over.

A low moan rose in pitch to an agonizing scream, then he slumped again, nearly falling from Riho's grasp.

"He won't be trying that again," Mallory muttered darkly, grunting as she tore the knife free from her hand. "Keep him up."

Riho had instincitvely ducked back at the rapid syllables, undoubtedly ready to dart from the blast of magic as she had infuriatingly done to him when she'd fought him earlier in the evening -- but when Mallory's spell seemed to put a stop to it, she held her ground, and quickly moved to hold his shoulders and roughly pulled him upright again.

The witch paced slowly in front of him, stopping a foot from his face, staring into his infuriatingly amused gaze. "Who sent you?"

He let out a pained laugh, as it seemed at least one of his ribs had been hurt. "I'm a big fan of your work. My name's Pavel--"

"You're a liar," she spat, and dug her right hand into her bag, securing a vial of her own blood. She gave Riho a significant look. Hold him steady.

"Yoisho," Riho muttered under her breath, that familiar phrase of self-motivation. She was watching from around the prisoner's shoulder to see what Mal was up to, curious even as she assisted. Her grip tightened vice-like on his shoulder, and one hand grasped around the back of his neck, fingertips pressing threateningly behind one ear at the pressure point there.

It sounded like it hurt, and it helped Mal to hold his jaw open with her left hand. She tipped the vial into his mouth, and as he coughed and sputtered to try to keep as much of it from going down his throat as possible, she began a Latin incantation...

The blood thickened and writhed as it flowed down his throat. He gagged and retched, struggling to break his arms free of their bindings as he appeared to be in deep pain... and with another retch, twelve spiders came scrambling out of his mouth, flecked in his blood where their rough, segmented legs had scraped his flesh. She let them crawl over his face, stretching over his terrified eyes before she dismissed them with a sharp gesture, and they dissolved into crimson mist.

Riho was fairly stoic, but perhaps it was only because she didn't seem to have seen what crawled out of Mallory's prisoner's mouth. As it was, her hold didn't slacken any throughout the process, though her need to shift her footing a bit resulted in a rough shake as she reasserted her grip quickly.

Mallory ducked her head to put her face directly in front of his lowered gaze, and gave him a wide, wicked smile before she repeated the question. "Who sent you?"

He opened his mouth a few times, coughed roughly, licked his lips before he tried to form words again. Then he met her gaze... and grinned. "I'm just... such a big fan of your work--"

"Let go of him," Mallory cut him off.

Riho frowned as she heard the fellow's improbable cover story again. Improbable even to her, to judge by her doubtful look. She leg go and took a quick step to one side. Now an arms reach away, she stood with her arms at her sides. "This guy," she muttered.

Despite everything that had happened to him, the young man kept his feet. He dared a taunting look at Riho, turning his back on Mallory. "Impressed by my stoicism?"

The witch grasped her necklace again and uttered a few Primordial syllables, staring hard at him as glowing green vines manifested in the air, winding themselves around him. In the space of a few seconds, he was solid stone.

Riho didn't seem to have an answer for the conscious Pavel, looking at him impassively with her venomous narrowed eyes. When the witch's incantation was finished and she saw the results, she barked another laugh though. "Well, that's stoic," she said with another chuckle and shake of her head.

The witch spared her a rather nasty smile as she knelt at her stoid captive's feet, beginning the work of inscribing a circle around him. "Transport," she explained, reopening the cut on her left hand for more blood to work with, smearing it into rough lines and forming ancient Greek letters at different intervals.

It took roughly a minute, and at the end of it she slapped her left hand down -- and the statue, the circle, and her spilled blood all vanished, clouds of steam dissipating in the air around them.

"Well, that's an efficient way of making sure he won't get away," the habu said admiringly, rubbing her chin thoughtfully after watching Mallory work at the ritual and casting. "So, you won't be needing our cell again?" she asked, reaching for her phone again and checking the screen.

"It's wide open for the next unlucky bastard," Mallory replied, sucking a few traces of blood from the back of her hand as she followed Riho out of the empty cell.

((Written with Riho's player, with thanks!))

[Mallory]

October 6th, 2019 - Old Market.

It hadn't mattered so much where they met. A quiet side street in Old Market that connected a high, narrow footbridge to the eastern Dockside wall was convenient enough for Mallory, on the way from Kabuki Street into the heart of the city. She was dressed in a light jacket, a ratty old shirt and jeans, and high tops with laces and soles gray with age -- clothes she didn't mind getting messy. There was a bag over her shoulder, and the vials within clattered together as she waited for Ebon to meet her.

The witch's gaze was alert, looking down the street one way, then the other, scanning a nearby alley and sweeping the rooftops. It was broad daylight, but if this was a vampire after her as her friends had theorized, not all of their servants were nocturnal.


Ebon made his way through the city streets with purpose, smiling and greeting those he passed but not lingering. He had considered taking to the air, but he didn't want to attract undue attention. If anyone was watching from the rooftops, it was hard to hide in mid-air. Coming up on the bridge, he spied the corner where the witch had said to meet. Was she-- yes, there she was. "Hello, Mallory."

A nod went towards the bag she carried. "Looks like you're prepared."

Mallory smiled smoothly at Ebon as he approached, and gave the bag he indicated a tug by the strap to straighten it. "Ready when you are," she said, and held out her right hand to him -- her left, she dragged one lengthening, claw-like fingernail across, and with the tearing of skin and spilling of blood, the air around them was suffused with magical power.

He took her hand and glanced up as crimson light flowed around them, no words spoken. The magic cascaded like a curtain of blood... and when it faded, they were standing in a marble room, ten feet by ten feet, and twenty feet high. The only exit appeared to be heavy oak double doors, securely chained, through which a faint red glow could be seen.

Shelves lined the walls around them, accessible via a rolling wooden ladder tucked into the corner, but all of them were empty. In the center stood a perfect statue of a bruised but smirking young man.

That petrified form's smirking expression had Ebon's eyebrow rising as they arrived. He glanced around to take in the empty shelves and then turned back to the statue. "This is him, I take it?" A smile spread across his face, mischievous almost to the point of wickedness. "I dislike him already."

"Didn't take long for me to get there," Mallory agreed. She did not fish out the Key of Earth -- by this point in her studies in the Tower, her mastery of petrification magic was complete. She held a ready gesture over him, then said to Ebon: "His real name, who sent him, and why. That's what I need to know."

She finished the gesture, and his head and parts of his chest, likely all of his insides, became flesh again. He let out a few coughs, and twisted his head as much as he was able. "You've turned me to stone... and taken me somewhere new. Not a great way to treat a fan of yours," he grinned, and his eyes alighted on Ebon as he added, "though I am excited to meet your friend."

"Are you, now?" Ebon's smile never faltered. "Ebon Ilnaren, at your service. And you are?" He didn't honestly expect a true answer, but as he asked the question, Ebon's mind reached out towards the other man's consciousness like a net cast over the waters. Often the truth that was sought lay just behind the lie that was spoken. Not always, but the day was young.

"Pavel Zakharin." It felt like a lie, and also like he was doing his best to clear his thoughts, though it tipped his hand that he believed Mallory had brought in a mind-reader. Panic rose beneath his twitching smirk.

"It's very nice to meet you, Pavel. I do enjoy making new friends." Ebon's tone was calm, amiable, as if he were a doctor speaking with a patient. While he spoke, he slowly but steadily tightened his telepathic hold on Pavel's mind. "Zakharin... that's an interesting name. Are you native to RhyDin or did you come here from elsewhere?"

If one could visualize the psionic energies coursing between the pair, the net that Ebon had cast had closed like a trap around Pavel's head.

Elsewhere, as images spilled out of his head of a frozen harbor with hulking figures wading through the water, breaking ice and tugging barges. In a moment, it cleared, but cracks were already forming in his defenses, so to speak. It took some effort for him to lift his chin and glower at Ebon. "RhyDin is where all of time and space converges -- or so I'm told."

"Perhaps, but to converge somewhere implies coming there from somewhere else." The net around Pavel's mind began to sprout hooks, curved barbs that latched onto the cracks in the man's mental defenses. "Still, where you call home is perhaps irrelevant. I only ask because Mallory here," and he gestured to the witch without taking his dark-eyed gaze from Pavel, "showed me some fascinating coins you sent her recently. I have a friend who collects coins, you see, and I was interested in obtaining some as a Yule gift. What did you get them?"

While he spoke, there was a starlight gleam in the depths of Ebon's eyes, and an invisible force gripped Pavel's right hand, threatening to shatter its petrified form.

"From my great-aunt," he said with a smirk, going with a useless truth to throw Ebon off, but one of those hooks pried out more than he'd meant to give up: Jeza.

As psionic force gripped the young man's hand, cracks began to form across it. "You fucker... you fucker...!" His panic was rising.

Mallory appeared unmoved.

"Oh, is your hand uncomfortable? Would you prefer that I move to another portion of your anatomy?" Ebon's smile and tone belied the threat. "Your great-aunt Jeza, was it?" In the mindscape, the hooks began to pull apart from each other, their lines taut. "She must be a fine lady, perhaps you could tell me more about her? Why would she send such a gift to Mallory here?" The fingers in that right hand began to bend backwards, slowly but inexorably.

At the name, Mallory's jaw clenched and her fingers tensed in ugly, spider-like angles. Her left hand was bleeding again, a threat of dark magic.

The man who called himself Pavel saw the look, and cornered between Ebon's physical threats, his tightening psychic net, and the realization that Mallory knew more now, he began to crack. "Because this girl is a liar... her name is Nadya Volokhov, not Mallory Maeda... and she is Jeza's grand-niece. She must come home. My name is Simeon Volokhov -- now release my hand! Please!"

The mental grip on Pavel's -- or Simeon's -- hand did not relent, nor did the hooks in his mind, but Ebon did turn away from the man to look at Mallory. There was no judging in his expression, simply a question. "Do I stop? Or press further?"

Mallory took deep, steadying breaths as she tried to answer Ebon's question... then snapped out a few dark syllables and a concentrated gust of wind spiraled out from her hand, striking the marble tiles right behind Pavel with enough force to crack him.

The parts of him that remained petrified would have easily shattered if struck.

"We can refrain from turning his hand to stone dust... if he gives us another name. An ancient vampire is behind this. Who."

Open, undisguised fear crossed Simeon Volokhov's face. "No! I'll die! I'll tell you anything else, but if that name passes my lips -- it will kill me!"

Desperate as his plea was, the deep hooks Ebon had set into his mind suggested that he was being honest.

Without another word, Ebon turned back to Simeon, and pinpoint gleams of white fire flared in the depths of his eyes. The hook lines tugged, and on the mental plane the warlock's skull peeled back, slow and steady, like the rind of an orange about to be eaten. "Forgive the cliche, but... there are worse things than death. Give. Us. The. Name."

The witch appeared on the fence, lifting a hand as if she would stop Ebon... but his words, his rage on her behalf, tipped the balance back into the cold fury she felt towards this man who claimed to be her family.

She lowered her hand, and Simeon twisted out the syllables, one at a time. "A... ri... us..." At the last, he coughed violently, eyes rolling back as blood spewed from his mouth and spilled down his chest. The witch released the rest of the petrification spell, and he crumpled to the floor at their feet.

"Arius." Why did that name--and, more particularly, the image it had conjured in the warlock's mind--stick in Ebon's memory.

Mallory's expression was conflicted: fury, sorrow, fear, remorse... but there was a grateful flicker when she turned to Ebon, and reached out her right hand to him.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

Ebon nodded as he took Mallory's hand. "For what it's worth, it doesn't matter what you call yourself. That doesn't change who you are."

A soft smile graced her features at that, and she squeezed his hand. "We can choose our own names." She cast a last look at Simeon Volokhov's body -- then they vanished in a flash.

((Written with Ebon's player, with thanks!))

[Bloodbound]

December 22nd, 2019 - somewhere in RhyDin...

It had been two months -- two months since the Volokhov spy, Mallory's own cousin, had been captured and killed; two months since the name of the Volokhovs' ancient patron had passed from his tortured lips, and prepared Mallory and her friends to face him.

Two months since the old vampire had taken a drink of Yeardley's sweet and addictive blood, and vanished from RhyDin to rage at Jeza. RhyDin was filled with creatures whose blood was as sweet as Mallory's, if not sweeter. They were far more fertile hunting grounds than Vyrna had ever been. The old vampire grew mad with his unsated bloodlust after such a taste, and furious that the family he had bound himself to with blood were anchored in a frozen and miserable city, far from the landscaper and others like her...

From Mallory's perspective, it was two months of blessed silence from the Volokhovs, time for her to focus on her classes, on helping her friend Michelle, and a growing part of her hoped that Arius and Jeza had realized they had bitten off more than they could chew. The witch was an immortal, infernal abomination, after all, growing in power, and many of her friends were similarly gifted. They're idiots if they try it again.

But no sooner had she put them out of her mind than Arius made his way back in. Yeardley had seen him prowling RhyDin again, seeking new victims. The Volokhovs were either stupid -- or they were planning something.

Mallory could have asked them. She still held Jeza's letter, keeping it in a lead-lined lockbox in her and Eri's library, protecting it from scrying and containing its enchantmeents. She had studied it for weeks, especially the sigil for contacting them directly, something Jeza warned was only for family.

So she gave it to Roka.

It was early morning in the city when the old oni entered the large decrepit room in the abandoned bath house, not pausing to admire the view of crumbling and cracked tiles on the walls or debris of clay bricks shattered on the ground. The letter with the sigil printed was held in his left hand as he crouched by the remains of the large basin in the center of the room, placing the symbol down on the grimy floor, and with great care, securing the paper with chunks of brick at either end to hold it safe from any draft that might find its way into the derelict structure.

Roka unslung the canvas bag from his shoulder, taking out a pair of dull tarnished silver candle holders from within to plant carefully on the dirty tiles that formed the edge of the old bath. Candles were drawn from the canvas next, one placed in each holder. From one pocket of his sport coat he produced a book of paper matches and opened the cover to scratch one alight. The little flame illuminated his serene features for a moment before the flame was transferred to the candles and their dimmer light left his eyes in shadow again. Once both flames were glowing he shook the match and tossed the stub of it onto the tiles absently, sitting down on the floor before the page. He folded the matchbook shut, then looked forward, waiting.

A direct reply was not immediate, though the Volokhovs' reality leaking into Roka's was. Loosened tiles tipped over the edge of the basin and shattered, and those still intact snapped in half, as a layer of black green glass slithered its way through the floor. They stitched themselves together and spilled into wider and wider channels, slowing as they filled nearly half the room, and deep grooves emerged with violent cracks.

Blood flowed through these vein-like fissures and into the pool that had remained empty for decades, spreading across the base yet drawing away from the old demon, his candles, and his sigil-marked page.

An ugly iron face appeared in the ceiling with the sound of wrenching metal, a screaming gargoyle, and directly underneath it stood a pale old woman in a heavy velvet dress, her fingers adorned with jewelry, her necklace heavy with blood-red gems that held none of the warmth of the witch's blood -- only the cold promise of necrotic power.

As she studied Roka, her lips thinned. She did not introduce herself, except by implication: "This sigil is only for family. Who are you?"

Throughout the invasion of the physical reality, Roka remained seated in seiza before the sigil on the page, watching the transformation of the bath as tranquilly as if it were a scene in a garden. When the old woman's image appeared, he gave the lapels of the hounds tooth jacket a straightening tug but remained seated to give his answer. "I am family. We just haven't met, until now. My name is Maeda, and I live in this hole." His right hand, as adorned with rings of gold as Jeza's own were with jewels, made a confident gesture, sweeping a circle that indicated the crumbling chamber.

"Maeda... You mean to say that you are family to the young woman whom my grand-niece, Nadya Volokhov, has chosen to divert herself with." The old woman smiled, though the expression remained thin. "I am Jeza Volokhov... and as I am sure you are aware, I am trying to provide my own family with better than..." Her green eyes slid around the surroundings he gestured to, then back to him, as she added contemptuously, "...holes."

The elder oni's hands folded together in front of him as he listened to the contemptuous reply from the old woman. "Yes, that is correct," he answered, tone as even and hypnotically calm as before. "I am the oldest. So it seemed to me that it was proper that we speak. Elder to elder, if you like." His hands unfolded only to lace fingers together again and clasp. "Is that your business with your grand-niece then? You look prosperous enough, if I can indulge in speculation." His eyes took on a yellow gleam from the shadows of their sockets for a moment, staring significantly at her extravagant jewelry.

"We Volokhovs do well for ourselves... better, I daresay, than these humble means. And yes, that is our business. Nadya will do better among her own family, where she belongs -- whom she was taken from, cruelly, by a demon." Jeza's smile widened unpleasantly, and she opened her hands. "I only hope that demons do not continue to keep us apart."

Roka listened and nodded as if he had expected no more. "Humble, yes. But it's quiet. And there is no undead business hanging around. If you deal with them for long enough, you stop smelling them, but you'll have to take my word when I say the stench is unbelievable." The oni's stubbly chin tipped up as he took a deeper breath, exhaling and smiling. "I wish I could tell you better news, but I intend to keep you apart. You'd have had to deal with me sooner or later. It might as well be now. That is why I initiated this meeting. I want to make you a counter offer. "

His hands unfolded and one index finger raised as if to plead for a moment. "Consider it carefully. I'll only extend the offer once, and it has to be now or never. Cease sending your diplomats to this place. Abandon your ambition to take the witch back into your family. Pay me a tribute of nine-tenths of your material wealth per year when I come to collect. Dissolve all of your standing forces, to ensure that you are no longer capable of presenting a threat to this world and my investments in it. Do all these things in good faith, and I'll look elsewhere, and you will be able to carry on with your affairs... after a fashion." After enumerating the points to his offer, Roka folded his hands again and waited.

Jeza was silent for a long moment... before she burst out laughing. It was not over quickly, either, cackling with such delight at Roka's thorough threat that she had to steady herself with her hands on her knees. She took deep, steadying breaths and dabbed the tears from her eyes with one finger. "Oh, you really do believe in this madness, don't you, Maeda..."

Once she had composed herself, she raised her chin to match his own expression. "Our lord Arius wishes for Nadya to become his bride. Such an attachment, between an accomplished blood mage who has achieved immortal power, and ancient vampiric nobility who has accrued such deep knowledge of blood magic that could help her through eternity, far exceeds the value of my grand-niece and your daughter playing at husband and wife.

"We will be neighbors soon, Maeda, but we do not have to be unneighborly. If you and your daughter accept this arrangement and help Nadya to see sense," Jeza opened her hands again, magnanimously, "I am sure that they could carry on an affair if they like, for however long it continues to divert them. And the Volokhovs could make valuable contributions to your... Kabuki Street. Help fund the schools and pave the roads... secure a prosperous future for your progeny.

"Or we can find you less than welcoming, and destroy everything you hold dear. Make whatever ultimatums you like, Maeda, if they make you feel better, but those are your only two choices: improve the future for your two daughters and coming... grandchild?" she added, with a mocking smile. "Or watch them suffer."

Roka blinked finally, looking puzzled for a moment. "Oh!" he exclaimed softly as he seemed to understand Jeza's proposal after that moment of reflection. He waved his hand dismissively. "I'm not even qualified to make that negotiation on Mallory and Eri's behalf. Their marriage and Kabuki Street's facilities are not my business. You see, your intrusions into the city have put my own investments in town at some loss. Recoupable expenses, granted, but a loss nevertheless."

He took a slow breath and exhaled, hand raising to rub at his mustache thoughtfully. "Those uncertainties were the reason that the cost of the olive branch was so high. But now I think..." he trailed off, as if considering. "...you have made your decision. You wouldn't threaten my grandchild if you had any doubts now, would you? I do have doubts, though. Telling the future is Mallory's job. I think it's more fun to put away the crystal ball and examine my options." A genuine smile followed, accompanied by another show of the baleful yellow gleam of eyes. The smile remained as his hand lowered again to the candles that bracketed the sigil, choking off the flame with a press of one fingertip.

The snuffing of the flame cut off Jeza Volokhov's last contribution to their chat, mocking laughter that died when the demon plunged the basin into darkness.

((Adapted from a scene with Roka Maeda, with thanks!))

[Bloodbound]

January 11th, 2020.

An oppressive shadow loomed over RhyDin, swirling black clouds covering the sky as something terrible prepared to tear its way into the realm. The turning beacon of the lighthouse pierced valiantly through the gloom, spilling its beams over the tumultuous waters between the RhyDin River and Seaside Beach, and many of the windows up and down the coast stood dark and empty as fearful residents abandoned their homes for shelter further inland, as far from the encroaching madness as they could get.

But the darkness seemed even deeper in the gods-forsaken neighborhood known as Three Foxes Court, where every candle in a window drew predators seeking a way inside, and the wretched, rotting stretch of docks it laid claim to remained conspicuously unlit. Wrought iron lamp-posts gave off meager light from wicks soaked in whale oil and panes coated in soot and grease. Smoke curled from a few chimneys, but even with the windows boarded these lightless beacons could call down hunters from the sky on leathery wings or across the slate roof-tiles on skittering claws.

Most hearths appeared unlit through the long winter, fires used sparingly and well-covered, the smoke whisked away by old cantrips or vented through twisting pipes to call hungry attention down on either empty or unsuspecting homes nearby.

Three Foxes Court stood in dark defiance of the apocalyptic scene a few miles up the coast, confident that its own brand of misery would outlast whatever madness spilled onto the bloody sands of Seaside Beach; but a dozen figures stood in the middle of Bailey Street in defiance of apocalyptic gods and lurking hunters alike, clad in dark, frost-bitten furs better suited to a city far colder than RhyDin. They scowled at their surroundings, looking at the damp and rot around them without fear, only disgust.

A tall woman with eyes like black glass wiped down her wave-bladed greatsword, removing the blood from the three dismembered redcaps laying in bloody heaps at her feet. A thin man in a cape with a spindly bone collar tipped his head to listen to the bats fluttering around his ears. A third, a short woman in black seal-skin and iron-buckled boots, hissed a pleased laugh as he reloaded his massive, dark-stained crossbow; his previous bolt was buried in the spine of a man who lay twitching on a rooftop as he bled out.

The rest stood in a ring, arms outstretched and crossed, clasping each other's hands tightly as blood dripped down to their fingertips and pooled in the middle of the street.

"How much longer will this take?" the bolter hissed impatiently, once her laughter had died with the man on the roof.

"Are you assigning the blame to Our Lord, or to dear babushka?" the bone-collared man croaked his question to her, though his eyes were on the foreboding skies over Seaside.

"Tuh. What does it matter to you?"

"I wish only to know to whom I shall send your offending tongue."

"That is enough from both of you," the swordswoman chided them both in her low, haughty voice. "Have faith in Our Lord. He will come."

A minute passed in tense silence. The blood in the street filled deep channels that had not been there before, deep cracks in glazed-looking bricks funneling their offerings like veins towards a heart.

In the distance, lightning arced across the sky, and the clouds descended as the waves rose up to meet them. Great black wings unfurled from a hulking shape that seemed to constantly be unfurling itself from within, a long-limbed gargantuan horror with a tentacled maw that promised madness to those that beheld it; and yet, one by one, the gathered figures could not help but look down the street and across the tumultuous seas to try to decipher its form, and the meaning in its madness. They became so enraptured that they missed the arrival of a being not nearly as ancient or unfathomable, but every bit as cruel.

"Welcome to RhyDin." Arius' tone was bemused for the porters, guards, and lesser Volokhovs filing through the portal behind him. The ripple in reality formed by the circle of warlocks around him blew cold wind, stinging snow, and acrid soot into Three Foxes Court.

The shape of the Great Dreamer wading through the Seaside Waters, and the reptilian silhouette of the kaiju thudding its way down the river to meet the invader, did little to draw his attention the same way they had his followers. Instead he was examining one of the fallen redcaps with a lip-curling sneer. "Worthless, miserable creatures... but they are liable to start eating the help if we do not get ourselves under cover," he mused, and looked up the length of Bailey Street to their destination.

It rose to a small hill, one of two in this part of the Dockside district; one was occupied by several houses on an outpost once known as Riverwatch, while this one was home to a crumbling old keep, all that remained of an ill-fated attempt to properly wall in, fortify and patrol this part of the neighborhood now lost to the ages. Two once-narrow windows had crumbled wider and wider, gazing blindly at its former demesne like the eyeless sockets of a skull, crowned with blackened, rotting banners, jagged parapets, and gibbet-cages dangling from creaking gallows. The entrance was blocked by a massive, toppled-over gate and debris piled like siege obstacles, though there was enough space for vicious fae hunters to scurry through...

"Has there been any sign of their leader since your last missive?" the elder vampire asked the tall swordswoman coolly as he walked past her, and his caravan of followers trailed after him uncertainly, looking over their shoulders often at the chaos unfolding on the horizon as they went.

"My Lord?" she said after a distracted pause, and he raised an eyebrow at her as he stepped over a length of heavy, rusty chain stretched across the treacherously slick street; further back, several of the porters were grunting and bracing on their hands and knees as their snow boots slipped.

"The Red General." His golden eyes narrowed at her, which finally tore her attention away from Seaside Beach and got her back to where he wanted her: fearing him. The rumored leader of the redcaps in Three Foxes Court was elusive but the old vampire was certain he existed -- the redcap raids were far too organized in their raids against Kabuki Street, using them as cover for looting homes on their borders, and the lack of any gang caches pointed to them paying tribute to someone.

"No sign, My Lord," she intoned in her low voice as long strides caught her up to him. Both hands tensed around the hilt of her greatsword as she looked at the surrounding alleyways on their approach and asked him, "What are we to do about the..."

She trailed off. He hissed something displeased through his sharp teeth and ran his long fingers back through his hair, sweeping the rapidly growing shock of white back from his brow. He needed sweet blood again, and soon. "The heroes," and he gestured dismissively as something boomed in the direction of Seaside Beach and the dueling titans, "seem to have it well in hand."

"But My Lord," she implored him with a quiet seriousness, "if an Old One should anchor itself in this realm--"

"If the heroes lose tonight?" Arius paused with her, letting the rest of the group advance towards the keep past them, and gestured to the battle. "If Nadya Volokhov and her friends are driven from that beach tonight, she will take refuge here," and a claw-like nail pointed to the north, "in Kabukicho, where those she claims to love are found. Where she believes she is safe when she feels weak."

He pressed his hand against her cheek, turning her chin with his thumb as he stared closely at her, watching her veins throb as she swallowed hard and avoided eye contact with him. "And we will disabuse her of this notion... and leave this city to its madness and despair."

He bared his teeth, his mouth passing inches from her quivering throat... and she slumped when he released her, tugging at his cloak as he strode towards the stone-choked maw of the ruined keep. "Come, Valya. We have a court to conquer -- and a bride to break."

[Bloodbound]

February 18th, 2020.

The Red General, whoever or whatever he was, had proved both irritating and elusive for Lord Arius and his growing retinue of both mortal and undead minions. The self-proclaimed ruler of the "army" of redcaps -- diminutive fae humanoids with blood-soaked caps and a taste for flesh -- had welcomed the newcomers into his keep by laying siege to it with mad charges out of the streets and into every opening they could find, overwhelming guards and servants and two of his favorite blood dolls. His warlocks had barricaded the keep and stayed on high alert instead of spying on his future bride and her allies as he desired, fighting off the suicidal attacks until the air was thick with reeking smoke from the burning corpses of slain redcaps.

Next were the ambushes. No sooner were his spies out on patrol to survey the neighborhood and all the routes into Kabuki Street, than redcaps began to burst from the gutters and sewer tunnels to tear them to pieces. It didn't seem to matter where it was, one of his shadow-wolves, bat swarms, ghouls, or any warlock who dared to venture out alone: if they smelled of undead blood, they were tracked and ambushed.

Finally, they began to set traps of their own for the creatures. Lone ghouls wandered out in to the streets of Three Foxes Court, mortals haplessly addicted to and nearly full to bursting with Arius' own blood. And when the redcaps fell upon them to tear them limb from limb, the vampire and his followers were waiting to destroy them.

More than a month had passed this way, fending off sieges and ambushes, then laying traps of his own for the vicious creatures that had long claimed this neighborhood for their own, but after slaying scores of redcaps to stacks onto the pyres, they simply stopped taking the bait. His minions could roam these streets virtually unchallenged, and would occasionally corner and kill one or two of the creatures, but he could not shake the feeling that they were simply biding their time -- scattering every time their strange conquerors came down the street, waiting for the opportunity to strike back and drive them out of RhyDin. He sat on the throne in the center of Grimbard Keep, surrounded by the ruined windows the Red General had once looked out of, but felt no more the lord of this place for his position.

He sat on the throne hewn from green marble, long pale fingers pressed together as booted feet crossed the stone tile floor to stand before him. Three of his warlocks, frozen in a slight bow, ready for his first command of the night as the sun sank further beyond the horizon he faced. He granted them a smile, a sliver of pearly white teeth, and spoke finally:

"I think it is past time we make this wretched place feel more like home."

* * * * *

Terrible screams echoed out of the broken windows and empty doorways of Grimbard Keep throughout the witching hour, each one the last breath of six mortal victims plucked from the waterfront that night. Eerie green light flashed across the smooth iron and glass panes and discarded stones levitating back into place, using their deaths to give this place of suffering a life of its own once more. And as the sixth mortal lay in a heap before the main gate, Arius extended a hand in the direction of hot red blood flowing downhill towards the sea:

"Where we have made order tonight... let us have balance, let us make it an island in a sea of chaos."

The flowing blood evaporated into great plumes of mist, snaking their way into the twisted streets of Three Foxes Court and smothering the rooftops, one by one. Where it covered, creatures of darkness moved with greater speed, his vampiric fledglings skittering from rooftop to rooftop while his wolf packs loped along the alleyways, and gargoyles and vicious bat swarms took to to the hazy skies virtually unseen. By the time the fog reached the waterfront, fresh screams pierced the air, and he smiled as he watched his followers fan out to enjoy hunting on their terms for a change.

Three Foxes Court couldn't contain the darkness, and his keen eyes swept to the edges of his demesne with cruel interest as he watched the enchanted fog begin to creep into the streets beyond...

Three Foxes Court had become the perfect hunting ground for the elder vampire and his followers,

[Mallory]

July 12th, 2018 - Dockside Med.

((Content warning for fertility issues, fertility treatment as leverage))

It was at the end of Mallory’s second appointment with Dr. Eva Luna, a follow-up on the tests she’d conducted to address a concern looming over the witch’s every thought: how the year-long blood magic ritual she had recently begun, a ritual to render herself immortal, would change her body in various ways she hadn’t accounted for.

She wasn’t getting sick anymore. Her cycle was less frequent. And her flesh kept reverting to its current state, even retaining previous scar tissue -- including tattoos.

“There’s something else we haven’t spoken about yet.” Eva sat back in her chair in her office and looked over the data on the screen again before looking back at Mallory. “Are you planning or considering having children in the future?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t not want to have them.” Mallory’s smile was a little sheepish. She slouched in her chair without realizing she was doing it. “I guess that makes it yes, academically.” There was an awkward beat. “We got engaged.”

Eva’s smile brightened. “Did you? Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It was... Tanabata. It was nice.” Mallory couldn’t help but match Eva for brightness. “So... yeah. I want it to be possible, if I can.”

She nodded, thoughtful, “I can’t know for sure what the effects will be of your process.” She took a breath, “I think you should consider freezing your eggs.”

The witch furrowed her brow, but she nodded. “That doesn’t sound cheap... but, there’s always a price.” The mantra of the dark arts. “Do you... do that here, or...?”

“I can do it, yes, though I recommend seeing a specialist instead.” Eva opened her desk drawer and fished around in it. She came up with a business card. “Akari. She has a clinic in Star’s End. She’s knowledgeable and reliable. She can walk you through the process from start to finish.” Eva offered the card across the desk.

Mallory hesitated. She prefaced it with an uncertain smile, as if to say don’t be offended, then reached out for the card and asked, “Queer-friendly?”

Eva nodded, her returned smile soft and understanding. “Yes. I wouldn’t send anyone there if they weren’t.”

“Thanks, Eva.” Mallory’s fingers curled around the card, and she looked thoughtful. Her Fate, her future, could be shaped today. She didn’t even know if she wanted children, but... “I’ll call her today. Just in case.”

* * * * *

March 26th, 2020 - The Anchor.

“Got something for you.”

The old man paused in the middle of his meal: a plate of raw and bloody beef that he picked at and tore with with his fingers and long, filthy nails. He glowered at the young woman standing across the small chrome table from him, the seams in her silicone face smooth and unwrinkled by any expression, her stud-like cybernetic eyes unblinking. She was a sleekly built cyborg, all boutique work, a stark contrast to the half-mad ghoul hunched over his gory dinner, dribbling red juice from the meat down his face and all over his hands.

He scowled over his shoulder in either direction and found a few frowning faces, and hissed at them. The Anchor brought in all types from all across the ‘verse, but the other customers were wary of his unhinged behavior. “I thought you said you found nothing,” he snarled at the cyborg, giving her a warning glare.

She didn’t sit down at the open seat, but she wasn’t backing up either, both physically and emotionally unmoved by his display. “I said nothing from her school. Every time St. Martin’s came under investigation, they shredded any records that could implicate them, including medical. That didn’t change until after she left.” The hacker pulled hard on the outside of her right palm, and a compartment slid open. She picked out a tiny plastic case, one inch, containing a chrome disc suspended in what looked like blue mist.

The ghoul grunted, uninterested, and dug back into his meal. “Mere trinkets will not appease my master--”

That elicited an emotional reaction from the cyborg, a frustrated sigh, and she clicked the hand-compartment shut again and removed something from her coat: a glossy folder containing plastic hard copies of medical records. “The first records pop up with a Dr. Akari Okafor, a fertility specialist in Stars End, but it’s not clear where they came from. I’m guessing an underground clinic somewhere in RhyDin, but I can’t be sure -- however they were submitted, it was done securely. But she’s visited Dr. Okafor seven times since August 2018.”

He dropped the meat on the plate with a wet slap and nearly tore the records in his scramble to rifle through them, narrowing his jaundiced eyes at the words to try to make sense of them. “Fertility science means... family?” he ventured uncertainly.

“Something like that.” She slid the tiny disc over until she saw him acknowledge it again, then adjusted her vinyl jacket. Something clicked in her hands and somewhere inside her jacket, and the ghoul narrowed his eyes suspiciously. A few customers shifted in their seats and looked their way. She was ready to gun him down if he didn’t pay, or worse. “Your turn.”

“My master... will be very pleased...” He sucked giblets from his teeth as he searched the deep pockets of his raggedy coat, coming out with a tarnished silver box inscribed with gargoyle faces. He gave her a broad grin and an imploring gesture, but she simply nodded to the box; he scowled and opened it for her, revealing a number of finely wrought silver chains and large emeralds and rubies. As she clapped the lid shut and started to draw her hand back, he lashed out and closed his claw-like fingers around her wrist.

There was a split-second between his motion and a glossy black pistol being pressed to his forehead, giving off a high-pitched whine as her thumb brushed the fusion accelerator on the grip. “Mulched or dusted, asshole? Your choice,” she stated coldly.

“Eggs... why freeze eggs?” he asked her, looking right past the weapon, completely unconcerned at the prospect of his own demise.

She stared at him until his grip relaxed, and she lifted her thumb off the accelerator, audibly downcycling while the nascent sparks fizzled out. “Let me do some math for you. Your witch got engaged to Eri Maeda. Then she put ten thousand credits into an insurance policy on them having kids someday. And there’s a clear takeaway from all this, if you’re not a flesh-mad minion.”

The ghoul let out a low growl, but leaned forward with clear interest as she holstered the weapon, finishing her words as she backed towards the exit:

“This means a whole fucking lot to her. For both of them.”

((Adapted from play with Eva’s player, with thanks!))

[Mallory]

March 29th, 2020 - Riverwatch, after the tournament.

There was a rhythm to life at Riverwatch for Mallory and Eri, a way that the Maedas went about their routines, and the only time Mallory bolted through the door and rushed upstairs was when she was trying to get Eri to chase her.

But Eri was already at home when the mudroom door flew open, and there was the sound of a brief exchange in Japanese between the witch and the security girls as she thudded her way up the stairs at a rapid pace, taking them two at a time. She opened the door onto the main floor, then called out for her wife as she threw it shut behind her: “Babe?!”

Eri was in the living room when the door to the mudroom flew open, having been home since evening. She was seated on the sofa with one of the game controllers in her hands, eyes dreamily fixed on the tv screen and the racing game there. At the sudden loud entrance and excited call from Mallory she dropped the controller in surprise and bolted up. “In here!” she called back, though she was already hurrying along to meet the witch.

Mallory met her in the hallway, catching her by the shoulders and greeting her with an excited grin. “Hey.” And a kiss. “I just saw Jewell at the tournament. I’ve got a plan. About Arius.”

Eri’s initial expression of concern quickly turned into a goofy grin as Mallory caught her shoulders in the hallway. She started to reply but waited for the kiss first. Her brows lifted at the news of the plan. “Yeah? What is it?” she asked.

“Tuesday, at dawn. She can send a hundred knights and mages from her court, while Michelle clears the fog with elemental Air -- and we raze that old keep the fog’s coming out of, and force Arius out into the sunlight.”

Eri raised a hand to scratch her chin as she listened and thought on the plan. “Elemental Air? It will get rid of the fog long enough to let the sunlight do the job?” Peering at Mallory, the delinquent made a thoughtful clucking sound. “Well, sunrise will have plenty of delinquents up still. I can get a dozen or so. And the kind of heavy hardware we’d need to knock the keep down then!”

“It’ll get the job done. It’s not plain old fog, but she’s dealt with it before.” Mallory drew her hands back from Eri, then, and made a tense fist with her left. It shook briefly, blood seeping through the gaps in her fingers, and she opened her left hand to reveal a pouch of small diamonds. “And if I throw these into the pot -- how many people can you round up then?”

Eri thought that over, watching the diamonds that gleamed in Mallory’s hand. “Well, not really a matter of money. Just was thinking of not leaving Kabuki totally undefended. I guess I would be willing to take about half of the fighting strength. That would make, say... eighty. And with the diamonds I could probably hire another fifty former KSR to add to that for the job,” she decided, after a pause to calculate.

Mallory’s face split into a grin as she surrendered the bag to Eri -- something she had been working on since she’d become the Keeper of Fire, but well worth it in her mind. “More than two hundred people surging into Three Foxes Court, clear of the usual redcaps thanks to Arius’ army -- an army that won’t dare step into the sun.” As she relinquished the bag to Eri, she tipped their brows together and smiled at her. “We’ve got some calls to make tonight, but I just wanted to say...

“I love you. Let’s kill this guy.”

Eri smiled right back, the rows of even teeth clearly showing. “I better call Izumi first. He managed to upset her somehow so she’ll want to be in on the revenge. Also, I love you too! So let’s go kill this buttsky together!”

[Bloodbound]

March 30th, 2020 - Stars End.

The sun had set over the high-tech hub an hour ago, the long shadows and glass reflections of its towering structures giving way to the neon haze of a hundred thousand signs that lit up every street, from the upper-story penthouses to the grimiest lower levels.

Somewhere in between the top and the bottom was the gen-tech and fertility clinic of Dr. Akari Okafor, accessible by a single concrete lane that served as a walkway and parking for the flying vehicles that floated in the thoroughfare of open air between buildings that was only marked by hovering beacons. The doors were blue glass, frosted and gently lit, soothing customers and putting them at ease to draw them inside unlike the vibrant flash that pulsed out of other establishments nearby. Silhouettes could be seen through the glass -- more empty chairs and tall plants than humanoid figures at this hour, though one stood behind a circular desk, one stood in front of them engaged in conversation by their body language, and three figures were gathered around a table discussing the literature that flickered between them on golden-colored holoscreens. There was one more, easy to miss or to mistake for one of the plants, standing off to one side with shoulders squared.

A fog that behaved more like a miasma than the steam billowing up from the innumerable vents of the undercity rose up from the hovercar thoroughfare, spilling onto the concrete lane and burying it up past the first floor. One by one, the hazy lights visible through the mist went suddenly dark as if someone had flipped a switch. "Stay very still," said a low voice just inside the clinic, as an energy weapon gave off a low hum...

Glass shattered, and the security guard let out a grunt as he was slammed into the floor by something darting through the roiling fog. Flesh tore and people screamed as mist filled the clinic's darkened interior, and snarling, hissing creatures poured in through the shattered doors to protect the one who went in search of a single quarry...

* * * * *

By the time a security team had converged on the clinic, the door guard was dead with his throat ripped open, three others were injured, and a refrigerated steel box labeled as belonging to an M. Maeda had been ripped out of a concrete wall by a creature with extraordinary strength.

[Bloodbound]

March 31st, 2020 - Northwest Dockside.

It wasn't long after the mysterious hacker's warning that Lord Arius decided to deliver the promised instructions to his bride-to-be. It came in the hands of a paranoid-looking ghoul, a mortal man who'd been driven mad after drinking Lord Arius' blood, and lusted to drink what would never sate him unless he turned, fully under the old vampire's sway. His clothes were filthy, his hair was wild, his eyes wide and wary as he darted through the misty streets of Three Foxes Court, winding his way closer to the western boundaries of Kabuki Street.

The redcaps had been driven from the heart of the neighborhood, but those who had not hidden themselves underground survived on the edges of enemy territory, rifling through refuse and hiding themselves from stronger passerby. The ghoul was not stronger, but his master's blood had made him fast -- when he saw two diminutive figures with iron shoes and filthy red hats emerge from the gutter he broke into a full sprint, heaving ragged breaths as he leapt past their swiping hands, leaving them snarling in frustration and arguing over who was to blame for their narrowly missed meal.

He skidded around a corner, one hand out to grasp at the incoming wall and push off, feet pounding down a narrow alleyway, veering around litter and debris that might trip him up. He could see daylight just peeking out through the narrow gap between the rooftops, filtering through the swirling clouds overhead, and his steps slowed as he shielded his eyes reflexively.

There was noise behind him. The continuing argument of the two redcaps, and the sound of gears turning and tension building as they cranked back a crossbow. He let out a growl and threw himself flat, skidding painfully along the hard, grimy ground as he clapped both hands protectively around his message. Twang! The tension released, and a bolt went whistling just over his head and rattling down the alley. He wasn't sure if they would continue giving chase this close to Kabuki Street, but he wasn't chancing it. He tottered back to his feet and built back into a furious run, darting around another corner.

The home stretch. He could see banners dangling from a laundry line, marked in Japanese characters he couldn't understand, but he pictured it like a finish line. He took bounding steps across the boundary and threw his arms up, laughing with mad exhilaration as he finally set foot on Kabuki Street itself, ecstatic that he'd brought his master's message to its destination -- out where the sun seemed to pierce through the crowds all the more compared to the dark comfort of Arius' keep, but he still felt exhilaration as he shut his eyes against the light and took a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

One eye cracked open at the sound of a whiff in the air, just in time to catch sight of a young woman in a long skirt and silk jacket stalking towards him. Obstructing his view of her was a mostly full drink can whirling towards him, which struck him squarely in the nose with a bloody crunch.

His world spun as he staggered onto his butt, and he blinked blearily as a fist descended on his face, sending him flat onto his back. There was shouting in Japanese, but like the writing, he couldn't understand it and tried to ignore it. "This letter is... for Nadya Volokhov..."

Someone was kicking it out of his hand and stepping on his wrist. The voices sounded inquisitive, but another cut through them: "Don't touch that. It could be trapped."

He cracked his eyes opened again, giving a bloody smile to the horned figure pacing across the street towards him, dressed in nice clothes befitting a schoolteacher and carrying a sword dripping with blood from her left hand. "The master's bride," he sighed; her gaze flicked to him briefly, but there was little change in her grim expression. She whispered a language that sounded like a more structured sister to the Abyssal he'd begun to recognize, and her fiery green eyes turned a solid, bloody red as she tapped his discarded letter with the point of her sword.

There was a puff of black mist in the air, and the bride-to-be simply said, "Tch," dismissive of his master's dismantled magical trap. She stared at the letter a few seconds longer, then opened it to scan its contents.

"Three days," he supplied helpfully, trying to push himself upright in his eagerness to deliver the message, but the woman in the long skirt put a machete to his throat that stopped his ascent. "In three days, before midnight, you must deliver yourself to the keep, or else there will never be a true child of your flesh."

"...You people just don't get it, do you," Mallory finally deigned to respond to him, glaring down at him. "What family even means."

Her disdain for his master's plans, and her generous place in them, stoked the fire of rage in his belly in a way that his beating so far had not. "It is you, Nadya, who--!" Another fist to the face silenced him, and he spat blood onto the pavement and grinned. It didn't matter.

Someone asked another question in Japanese, someone adjusting her holster, but the bride-to-be responded, "No. Just... put him in a cell. It's Arius' poison, not his." The sword in her hand vanished in a crimson flash, and she smiled as she stooped to look down at him again. "He'll snap out of it once his master's dead."

[Bloodbound]

April 3rd, 2020, minutes after sunset - Kabuki Street Community School.

Taro Ouichi, in spite of his name, was not a large son. Among the boys in his year at Kabuki Street Community School, he was downright shrimpy, not quite 5’6” and 120 lbs. soaking wet. He folded himself neatly inside the comfortable armchair in the school library with room to spare for his backpack, quick and clever eyes darting between his friend Yuina Hirano and the thick spiral notebook open on his leg. He thought about the phrasing, tapping his mechanical pencil against his lower lip, then asked, “Why are they called the Dimitriads?”

Yuina had settled in on one of the wooden library chairs pulled from one of the study tables, her own backpack resting beside her feet. The young singer’s dark eyes ticked from the short statured Taro to the notebook as well. Studying for an upcoming test was the mission, and from the uncertain look she had Mr. Ouichi had found a shortcoming in her assigned reading. “The Dimitriads… cause they are all related to Dimitri,” she ventured to guess, sounding less than confident.

“That is technically right. But what Dimitri?” He lowered his eraser and gave his friend an encouraging grin. “He replaced someone who wasn’t good enough...”

Yuina’s eyes lit up as she recalled now, the lecture from Roka. “Oh! Right! The Tsar!” she exclaimed after hearing the hint. She had her own notebook open, and absently scrawled a note with her pencil to help her memorize it better. “The pretender one...” she added with a nod. “Right?”

“Right! He was sponsored by the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth to advance his claim to the tsardom over the weak reign of Boris Godunov, who wasn’t--” He gave Yuina a bright smile and opened his hands towards her to let her fill in.

Yuina nodded and cheerfully filled in, “...good enough!”

“Okay!” He stretched out his hand to high-five Yuina, laughing as they slapped hands together. His back was to a long stretch of glass windows, where something dark with gleaming red eyes whooshed past, staring right at them for the split-second it was visible.

Yuina’s eyes widened first, then blinked rapidly at the vision she glimpsed through the window after slapping hands with Taro. Her bright grin faltered and her face went slightly pale as she half rose from the chair she was sitting in. “Let’s… move out to the hallway. I saw something outside.” she stammered weakly.

“...Okay,” Taro nodded, and quickly he unfolded himself from his seat and started putting things in his backpack. “What did you see?” he asked, checking the windows in question.

But as soon as he’d finished his question, windows shattered in the stacks, and when they looked down the narrow lane in between the shelves, they could see four pale figures dressed in ragged clothes, their nails long and filthy, their eyes gleaming red like the thing that had passed by the window. “You will stay right where you are, or else!” one of them snarled as they paced rapidly towards them.

Yuina shouted incoherently in alarm as the windows shattered, ducking her head and then looking reflexively toward the stacks after a moment. She did not seem to hold their warning in much regard however and spun rapidly away from the lane between those shelves, taking a step then another before breaking into a full sprint back toward the library doors.

Taro was slower to dart off than she was, crying out as they closed in on him, but Yuina’s rapid pace was gaining distance on them, much to their surprise. “What in the--? Don’t just stand there preening, fly after her!”

There was a deafening roar and another whoosh, one wingbeat sending the gargoyle behind the figures aloft and another sending it soaring past the vampirelings pinning poor Taro to close in on Yuina, grabbing her around the middle with massive arms just as she hauled open the library doors.

Yuina cried out in dismay when she felt the bulky arms seize her, having taken a deep breath when she threw open the door. As she was pulled back into the library by the creature she screamed into the vacant hall. “Help! Monsters!”

Doors opened up and down the school hallways, but when the few students and faculty staying this late on a Friday finally reached the library, all that was left behind from the two missing students were the scattered contents of their backpacks. Retreating wingbeats and cries of protest came in through the broken windows as Lord Arius’ minions left with their prizes in tow.

((Written with Yuina's player, with thanks!))

[Mallory]

Minutes later, at Riverwatch...

It was not a ghoul or a fledgling vampire that made its way to Mallory, but a solitary bat. It wheeled not over the rooftops of Three Foxes Court, for fear of being snatched by the things that perched on high, but in the space between the buildings, diving and climbing and darting this way and that as it avoided open windows it could also be grabbed from. Following the same trajectory as the ghoulish courier a few days before, the bat wheeled into the final street before Kabuki Street, flying higher and higher, rustling through banners as it spotted the old Irish stone house that the Maedas called home. It descended towards the balcony of Riverwatch, where it saw a recognizable horned figure holding a mobile phone up to her ear.

“Do we know where they took them? If they’ve had any bloodwork--” the witch began, but stopped when there was a crimson flash and a whiff of her own blood in the air, a side effect of her elaborate wards around Riverwatch being tripped. The bat hung in the air, completely paralyzed, though its beady eyes still tracked her. Its body was oddly bulbous... “--I’ll call you back.”

As soon as she’d pocketed her phone, she pressed her left ring finger into her palm, willing her fingernail to lengthen and sharpen, and passed the dripping blood in front of her gaze to invoke her Sight. She stared at the bat for a long moment... then climbed up onto the railing, the rest of her fingernails forming into claws so she could tear an orb of green glass from its torso. The creature shrieked and burst into black mist, but as soon as the orb had settled into her palm, it lit up with an image--

Yuina Hirano and Taro Ouichi by the eponymous fountain in the center of Three Foxes Court. She knew the location well, though last time, it hadn’t been dappled by the strange light of a scrying portal, nor filled by a dozen dark-clad figures pressing their weapons to the young students’ throats, much the same as the bronze foxes closing their jaws around the throat of the swan in the middle of the stagnant fountain. Among them stood a pale figure, dark-haired but with a broad shock of white through it, young in the smoothness of his features yet impossibly old, an ancient hunger burning in his feral eyes.

Arius. Her eyes narrowed, but the elder vampire spoke first, his voice projecting distorted through the orb in her grasp: “Nadya. Come here in ten seconds, or these children will die.”

There was no time to quibble, to play for time, to warn anyone, to plan. After more than a year of watching, the elder vampire had observed the witch’s own cunning, her ability to subvert machinations and achieve the impossible given enough time, and he had adjusted his strategy accordingly. She looked back towards the library and did the only other thing she had time for, a simple shout, “Eri!”

Then she plunged a claw back into her left palm, vanishing from Riverwatch in an instant.

* * * * *

The last time she had been at the fountain in Three Foxes Court, she’d held all of the bargaining power. Now she had none, and it was clear to her as she appeared in the midst of the ancient vampire and his warlocks, holding two of her students at swordpoint, while gargoyles adjusted their wings on the rooftops around them. Both Yuina and Taro appeared glassy-eyed, dazed, and likely under Arius’ spell not to resist him. And the smirking man before her, capable of that kind of control, wanted her body, had taken from it already to use it against her, and it felt like a heavy stone had settled in the pit of her stomach to face him.

She knew what he had done. She was terrified of what he wanted to do next. It took all of her strength and defiance to fight back the deep shudder, lift her chin and tell them, “Let them go.”

Arius lowered his head to look back at her, eyes narrowed as he coldly stated, “No.”

There had to be a way around this. Mallory’s mind danced over the possibilities -- the Key of Fire, baleful transposition, the Lyceum portals, a massive blood summoning -- and the pitfalls, as blood continued to fall from her hand into a growing puddle.

He saw her thinking. In an instant, a warlock was grabbing Taro by the head, baring his neck so that the vampire could sink his fangs into the boy’s throat.

She reacted just as fast, dragging the tip of her foot as she spun in a circle, right through the puddle of blood, and threw out her arm towards the two of them on the follow-through. A black shadow fell over Taro at the same moment that it descended from her, sending a sharp spike of pain through her head that made her nose bleed. He reappeared where she had been standing, coughing from the dark cloud and wracked with pain, but still alive -- and within the circle of blood she had drawn.

She could hear the boots of warlocks racing the short distance towards the boy, and wings flapping as gargoyles descended from above, when Arius’ iron grip caught her right hand already going for his face, and his fangs tore into her throat. She let out a strangled scream as the blood flowed into his mouth, wrenching and twisting in his grasp though it only widened the tears, and caught sight of Taro, putting his hands out as the spell over him broke and he took int he scene. “Yui--”

She stretched out her left arm towards him and closed it into a fist, and with a crimson flash, the boy had been banished to the Lyceum door on Kabuki Street. “He’s gotten away, my lord!”

She knew Yuina was still there. Her vision swam as Arius greedily drained the blood from her body, and she made a reaching motion towards her, as her lips twisted into a scowl, preparing a terrible hex for Arius...

But she wasn’t looking at Yuina anymore, and Arius was no longer holding her upright -- she stumbled without his support, and when he looked the girl’s way, the vampire flickered out of a rippling illusion to appear before her instead, looking her directly in the eye. “Stop,” he commanded her.

And in spite of every part of her that wanted to bite and claw and fight her and Yuina’s way to safety from this monster, in spite of the voice that screamed in her head no, not again, a thread of enchantment wound its way through her eyes and into her mind, establishing control. Her lips formed around the ‘b’ that began her word of rending and moved no further. She could see Yuina again as Arius moved around her, looking her over, and she could hear the girl crying for the witch to get them out of there.

Arius’ control had dropped from the young student, but Mallory could do nothing but listen and watch and feel as he pressed his hands over her shoulders. “It is good that the boy has gotten away; well done,” he hissed in her ear, and smiled at his warlocks. “Now they will know that we still have a hostage, and that terrible things will befall her if they interfere. Take her to the safehouse and keep her under guard -- I will see to Nadya’s re-education, and establishing our foothold here before we take her home.”

Yuina was bundled off, squirming and grunting in protest, while Arius circled around Mallory again and stopped in front of her. He slid his cold, slender fingers across her face, then curled them around her chin. “Tell me your name.”

“Mallory Maeda.”

His pleased grin cooled. His grip tensed. She did not react. “Tell me your real name.”

“Mallory Maeda.”

He let out a low growl. “No. Listen to me. You are Nadya Volokhov, and you are my bride. Now tell me that your name is Nadya Volokhov, and tell me that you are my bride -- and by the Abyss, look me in the eye when you say it!”

Her head turned smoothly, robotically so she could look him in the eye. “I am Nadya Volokhov. I am your bride.”

His smile returned, oblivious to the warlocks around him, studiously avoiding looking at the pair as they scanned their surroundings, far more concerned in the moment about impending retaliation than their triumphant master. Even from a few gulps of her blood he looked more vibrant somehow, his eyes brighter, the broad shock of white hair reduced to a thinner wedge. “Oh, that is lovely to hear from your lips... Tell me again. Who are you. Whose bride are you.”

She continued to look at him as instructed. “I am Mallory Maeda. I am Eri’s bride--”

He struck her with the back of his hand, sending blood from her mouth that joined the flow from her throat, and she laid there, making no effort to brace herself or get back up. “Take her,” he waved a hand dismissively, and the largest of the warlocks stooped to pick her up over his shoulder. “We’re returning to the Keep... and breaking her of this illusion of love. She is mine now.”

((Yuina's character used with permission.))

[Bloodbound]

((Trigger warning for abuse, sexual assault [fondling].))

An hour later at Grimbard Keep...

The throneroom of Grimbard Keep was soon cleared of any other intelligent beings but Lord Arius and the captive blood witch. The warlocks and ghouls and fledgling vampires had all been dismissed, leaving only the gargoyles as a concession to his own safety, occupying the spaces where decorative suits of armor had once stood vigil over this hall.

He let out a scoff through his bared teeth at the thought of safety as he circled around the young woman standing before the throne. Granted, she was powerful in her own right -- he had fed on her twenty minutes ago and already her color was returning, with no sign of his bite except for the bloodstains smeared across her neck and soaking the shoulder of her shirt. “You are powerful in your own right,” he mused aloud, thoughtfully rubbing the soaked fabric between his fingers, and gave her a cruel smile; “but you have much to learn. I can teach you, but you have to be willing... unshackled from your foolish attachments to this miserable place, free of your delusions.”

She said nothing, staring straight ahead, steady and still.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and when she looked, he smiled again. “I can teach you so much more than you could ever learn as a shopkeeper, a... sports star, a schoolteacher among girls pretending to be a gang with their gambling dens and ridiculous attire, playing house with your demonic friend who could not even begin to grasp the intricacies of magic! You are deluding yourself that there is any kind of future for you there. I know you have ambition,” he hissed as he stepped up to her, sliding his hands past her temples, cradling her horns. “Look at you... immortal... Infernal... you could be a Queen, and would be already if you had only had your noble family to guide you. But you do know,” and he pressed their brows together. “You have them. You have me.”

Silence.

Arius shut his eyes as he laced his hands together behind her neck, feeling her veins moving under her thumbs -- less a pulse than the roar of an ocean, spilling endlessly into her veins. “I cannot hear your heartbeat... Tell me why.”

For all the intimacy of Arius’ tone, Mallory’s was flat and clinical. “My heart is not here.”

The old vampire took a half step back as he slid a hand up her shirt to feel her chest, watching her gaze for any sign of reaction, but there was none. His cruel smile turned into a cold scowl, and he withdrew his hand as he muttered, “Indeeed it is not. Give me your hand.”

Mechanically, she extended her arm, exposing her wrist.

He dragged his cold fingers along her forearm, watching her impassive expression again as he caressed her and moved his face closer, then sank his fangs into her wrist. Her blood was sweeter than any he had tasted before, and he clenched his eyes shut and grunted as he took greedy gulps, pulling her life essence into himself. He could feel the signs of his many centuries -- beyond those that most vampires survived -- fading further away every time he swallowed, as the shock of white completely vanished from his scalp, and his ivory flesh seemed ever more vibrant until it looked as if he had been carved from pure marble, any hint of sickliness in his pallor gone.

The witch shuddered and collapsed on the floor, slipping from his grasp, too drained of blood to physically stand, and he stood there with it dripping from her mouth, watching her turn her head side to side. He could feel his control slipping from the harm, and leaned down to grab her roughly by one horn, and forced open her eyes as he hissed,

“Obey me... Do you hear...? Do you comply...?”

For a moment he caught the anger of a cornered animal in her gaze, but with the thread of enchantment woven anew, her eyes glazed over, and she nodded mutely before slumping to the floor again.