Lauren Crowe and the Case of the Fairy's Fate

By Marcus Lycus

(Marcus_Lycus@hotmail.com)

Ah Lara Croft, what is it about her we love so much? The high adventure and international intrigue? The history and lost civilizations? The shorts? The guns? The tits? The stuck-up, smug British superiority complex we love to see humbled? Whatever it is she just has that certain je ne se qua, or as the French say, watchamacallit.

But... come on. It's 2004. Does anyone really think there are lost civilizations out there? The world has been mapped to the last square inch by satellites. The animals and plants of the world have been examined down to their DNA and you can make cell phone calls from the Amazon jungle. And England... England hasn't been on top for so long it's not even funny. Being a British tomb raider just ain't as cool as it used to be.

But... move Laura 150 or so years back in time to the Victorian Age, when the world was young and mysterious and the British were masters of the world and you have... well something like this I imagine.

Legal Horrors: Characters and text are copyright Marcus Lycus. Do not repost this story without my permission.

And since this story is meant for people over the age of 18, please don't read it if you are younger than that. Any resemblance between characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental of course. Especially Lady Lauren Crowe, she's like 100% original and totally not based on any video game characters. (Please don't sue me!)

And finally, please e-mail me with any comments, complaints or suggestions. Remember feedback leads to more stories!

Marcus Lycus

September 2004

Chapter 1 - A Ride in the Forest

It was the spring of 1864. The American Civil was winding down and Queen Victoria of England had conquered India assuring that the sun would not set on the British Empire. It was an age of industry and progress when the world was being explored, mapped, indexed, filed and recorded. It seemed that soon the world's last secrets would be uncovered.

So it was that in a small principality in the Balkans, the 19^th century's greatest adventuress was starting her newest case...

***

Dimitri emerged from the dark forest into the fields and put down his heavy bundle of firewood. As the young peasant rested he heard the clatter of hooves, three horses walking at a measured pace towards the woods. He looked up, wondering who these strangers might be. In his life he had never traveled farther away than the next valley so any visitor was a novelty.

But these visitors would have impressed anyone.

The first rider was dressed in a simple cotton dress and rode sidesaddle to accommodate her long skirt. A straw hat shielded her eyes and protected her white skin from the sun. Beneath it Dimitri caught a flash of red hair and green eyes. A foreign woman?

If the first rider was unusual, the next was positively outlandish. Her skin was darker, darker even than a gypsy's and had a reddish tinge to it. Her black hair was tied back in two long braids, held in place by feathers! There was a bow on her saddle and a spear in her hands. Months ago, during the fair, Dimitri had seen woodcarvings that were supposed to show the savages of the Americas and here was one come to life! The woman wore only a short leather dress that ended well above her knees showing her long tan legs to any man who looked her way. Enthralled by the sight of a woman's bare legs, Dimitri could barely look away to see the final stranger.

But the third rider was the most shocking of all. At first he mistook the rider for a young man by his way of dress and the way he rode but a second glance showed Dimitri the truth. The person he was looking at was a woman, unmistakably a woman. She wore a man's tight leather riding breeches and a man's linen shirt but the proud heft of her breasts and her long single braid proclaimed her sex, and sexiness to all. She smiled at him as she rode past, enjoying his rude stare and even winked at him.

Then the three beautiful women rode into the dark forbidding forest and disappeared.

Dimiti ran home to tell everyone what he had seen.

They branded him a liar and made him do extra chores for the next month.

***

"M'lady, is this wise?"

"Oh Bridgett, how many times must I tell you, call me Lauren, we have been friends far too long for you to call me 'my lady'".

"Sorry m'lady." Bridgett said, completing the old joke. She had been brought up to be Lauren's servant and old habits died hard. "But our mission in this forest, it just seems wrong."

"Yes Brave Crow, injuring a sprit is never wise. "

Lady Lauren Crowe, the leader of the expedition sighed and rolled her eyes. Her two companions Bridgett O'Malley the Irish scholar and Running Deer the American Indian huntress were her oldest and dearest friends. They had traveled together for years exploring the darkest corners of the world and learning secrets hidden for centuries. Yet, despite all they had learned her two friends still insisted on holding on to outdated superstitions and fairy tales. Crowe smiled at the thought, if her employer was correct they were literally entering a fairy tale now. But she knew better than to mention the fact, her friends did not need any more ammunition.

"Bridgett, Running Deer, really, sometimes you surprise me. If the information the Count gave us is correct we might discover a new species of primate, like the Orangutans of Africa or the Spider Men we encountered in the Amazon. Surely you do not believe those creatures are anything other than natural animals? And the creature we hunt today will no doubt prove to be the same. Moreover our new employer seems a reasonable and quite charming man, do you think he would send us on a mission to do harm?"

"Charming m'lady? You sound quite taken with the Count."

"Well he is quite handsome, and wealthy and, yes, charming... if something were to happen I might not object."

"You have been without a man for very long." Running Deer interjected bluntly.

"Uh..." the Victorian lady found herself at a loss for a reply.

Changing the subject quickly Bridgett asked "But m'lady the descriptions match all the old tales. Do we not hunt for a spirit of the forest?"

"Honestly Bridgett, fairies? Beautiful winged women living in trees? The idea is absurd! I don't doubt there is something out here, all myths have a basis in fact after all but I am sure we will find something that can be explained by rational science and not the deranged chatter of druids and witch doctors."

***

Bridgett fumed silently. She had grown up with Lauren, after her family had sold her to the Crowe estate during the potato famine. As children they had been playmates and as adults... much closer. At first Bridgett had been brought along on expeditions for her scholarly skills. As a young girl she had read everything in the Crowe library and her gifts as a linguist far surpassed Lauren's. But in recent years Bridgett had gone beyond book learning, discovering her Druidic heritage and the magical gifts that came with it. She had lost count of how many times her gifts had saved Lauren's life yet the English noblewoman still treated her magic with scorn claiming it was just a natural phenomena science had yet to explain. Lauren's stubborn belief in science had begun to drive a wedge between the two, one that Lauren seemed completely unaware of. Bridgett would never think of leaving her mistress of course, but she found it harder and harder to serve her the way she once had.

***

Running Deer ignored Lauren's prideful words. She had long ago accepted that the white people were ignorant and barbaric. Every Indian knew that. But Running Deer owed a blood debt to Brave Crow and had learned to tolerate the pale-face's savage ways. Perhaps in time her companion would gain wisdom in the way Fire Hair had. If not, Fire Hair skills as a witch doctor and Running Deer's magic talismans would have to be enough to protect Brave Crow from the world she willfully ignored.

***

Lauren smiled to herself when her companions fell silent. Obviously her rational arguments were beginning to work.

Her father, the famous adventurer Thomas Crowe, had traveled the world for thirty years before returning to England to start a family. Soon after his daughter's birth he had left again on an expedition to Africa this time taking with him his wife, already pregnant with their second child. He had never returned.

Lauren had been left virtually alone in the great manor house. Her bitter grandmother took charge but had little patience for the impetus girl. As far as her grandmother was concerned Thomas' foolishness had killed her daughter and unborn grandson and she would not allow young Lauren to follow in his footsteps. But Lauren regularly fled from her to seek out her father's journals and trophies. She decided early on that a convenient marriage and life at home were not for her, she would follow her father's path, and perhaps even learn his fate. She'd left her grandmother and the Crowe estate at age 16 and never regretted it for a moment.

Across Asia, Australia, Africa and the Americas she had sought out the darkest corners of the world and brought the light of reason. Lauren and her companions had discovered the Lost Plateau of the Thunder Lizards in the Amazon, the Hidden Kingdom of Va'al in Africa, the Golden Tomb of Gengis Khan in Mongolia and countless other places.

If she had learned one thing in her travels it was that the future of the world was to be found in reason and in science. There was no place in this modern age of steam locomotives and telegraphs for stories of magic and monsters. Progress! Progress, science and industry are where miracles were to be found not in dusty tombs or forgotten relics.

Sometimes, perhaps after a few whiskeys, she would admit to having seen a few things she could not explain. The walking statues in Wuhan, the zombie pirates of the Caribbean, the mysterious Yog-Sothoth of the Antarctic, they all seemed to go beyond the reality her books taught her. But she was sure that someday science would explain them and strange events like the Mystery of the Mummy's Curse would become no more mysterious than lightning or the tides.

Lauren Crowe was proud to be part of progress. In a time when women were slaves to the kitchen, she her friends had proven that women could go anywhere, do anything. In the future her legend would live on in Victorian 'Penny Dreadfuls', 30's pulp magazines, a 70's TV show starring Jaclyn Smith and a best-selling line of 21^st century video games. The world would never forget her.

But the world would also never know how close she came to defeat.

***

That night they camped in a clearing several miles into the vast unexplored Transcarpatian forest.

"Just think" she told her comrades "these woods have never been fully explored. Even the local peasants do not set foot in them at night. I might be the first civilized person to properly explore this place! I must ensure everything is properly recorded for the future."

While Lauren recorded her observations in her journal Running Deer and Bridgett secured the camp in their own way, secretly laying charms and talismans to protect their circle of light from all manner of harm.

When they were done the three women laid out their bedrolls, said their good nights and promptly feel into a deep sleep.

At least two of them did.

Ever since she was young Lauren had always been in top condition. She was always stronger, faster, more fit than the other girls and most of the boys. As she had attained womanhood Lauren's stamina and strength had only increased until now she needed only a few hours sleep even after a hard day of riding. Her senses and night vision were sharper as well, sharp enough she felt she was better off spending this night hunting for traces of their prey. She carefully slipped out of camp avoiding the herbs and markings her friends insisted on putting up. She knew about it of course and humored them. Let them put their faith in circles and magic, Lauren had more confidence in her twin revolvers and boot knives.

But Lauren tended to forget that Running Deer was her equal in physical prowess. Her Indian protector rose as well and shadowed the white huntress undetected.

Bridgett had many skills and assets, but few of them were physical. She slept soundly, snoring on occasion.

***

Several weeks ago Lauren received a letter from the Count of Wallachia a small realm deep in the Carpathian Mountains in an area called Transylvania. The Count wanted to hire her services to uncover the truth behind local legends of a race of fairies in the forests around his castle, magical guardians of the woods who took the form of beautiful women with dragonfly wings.

The letter had arrived just one week after the trio had returned from Antarctica. Despite the ordeal she had suffered at the slimy tentacles appendeges of the Yog-Sothoth Lauren was already itching for a new quest. The promise of traveling to a new land and discovering a new species of animal was powerful lure for her. The huge sum of money offered by the count sealed the deal. Her constant travels and adventures had left the Crowe estate in debt. The count's money would ensure that Crowe Manor remained out of the hands of the bankers for another few years.

The count's letter had described him as a modern man trying to bring to reason to this primitive corner of Europe but the count's home was a decaying castle more suited to the middle ages then the nineteenth century. The man himself seemed but a generation removed from barbarism.

She remembered riding up to its gates and seeing the tall iron spikes arranged outside, stained brown with years of blood. She had asked the Count about them.

"Ah yes the spikes... Centuries ago my ancestor and namesake Vlad, known as the Impaler, used them to execute his foes. They were impaled publicly and left to rot for all the world to see. I leave them there as a reminder to the peasants, it helps to keep them line."

From another man that horrid sentiment would have repelled Crowe but something about the Count made it seem appropriate, even reasonable. The Count was a tall man with a thick head of dark hair that formed a pointy widow's peak on his brow. He was always well dressed in a dark velvet cloak and silk shirt. His skin was quite pale a sign of too many days spent in his castle away from the sun.

He was rude, imperious and dictatorial, quite abrupt with his servants and only slightly more polite with Crowe, technically his peer. He even had the gall to suggest Running Deer and Bridgett be quartered in the stables!

But something about his eyes stopped her from objecting. One look from him was enough for her to forgive any slight or insult.

Her friends were not as charmed. Running Deer seemed constantly on edge the night they were in the castle and Bridgett complained of strange feelings and nightmares. But Crowe knew her friends were always a bit jumpy and did not worry too much, they were probably just offended by the Count's suggestion.

Still Crowe had some doubts about the man. His suggestions (Lauren refused to think of them orders) smacked of superstition. She was to seek these 'fairies' in circles of mushrooms and to bind one with cold iron to render it powerless. What nonsense.

At least he had provided a map showing the areas where fairies had been sighted before and pack of tools he claimed she would need to bind it. But still... he was a charming man and as Running Deer had tastelessly pointed out it had been a long time since she had said goodbye to King Botota. She licked her lips. Perhaps when she returned...

Lauren had tried to hire some local guides, perhaps boys who had seen a fairy before but no one would work for her once they heard her mission. By the time she had left the village the locals were all sneering at her and making signs against the evil eye. And apparently their primitive fears had infected her friends as well.

Trying to think rationally she wondered what the fairies might actually look like. Some sort of large insect or butterfly? A huge bird? A colorful bat? Obviously the stories of gorgeous women were embellishments by lonesome peasant boys, much as sea lions had inspired stories of mermaids. Whatever form these 'fairies' took Lauren was sure one would look great stuffed and mounted in Crowe Manor.

Crowe leapt into the boughs of a nearby oak and found herself a perch. She was above the trail and had a clear view of the sky. If one of these creatures flew by she should be able to see it in the air. If not, perhaps one would pass below.

It might be a long futile wait, this was only the first night, but Lauren saw no point in wasting time.

Three trees over, Running Deer watched her.

***

The pattern continued for three more nights. Bridgett and Running Deer's anxiety only grew, they could feel strange forces growing around them but their leader seemed blissfully unaware of the growing threat. The two companions dutifully set wards each night and their scornful leader slipped out of the circle each time.

On the third night...

Crowe was sure she had seen something, a huge set of wings silhouetted against the moon for a second. She'd even glimpsed a double tail similar to that of New Guinea's bird of paradise! The long feathers of the tail she had seen suggested a set of legs, no doubt the origin of the whole 'fairy' idea.

She wished for a Daguerreotype apparatus like the one she had seen in America although she knew such an apparatus was far too fragile to drag through the woods. Maybe someday in the future these 'photo-graphy' machines would be portable, what a boon to science that would be!

She pulled her journal out of a belt pouch and started to sketch what she had seen with a chunk of charcoal. Lost in her new discovery she did not hear the creatures padding below her tree.

Running Deer did.

"Brave Crow beware!" She called, reaching for her bow; she had just gotten it off her back when something struck her from behind.

Crowe looked up at the shout just in time to see her Indian companion fall to the ground wrestling with some sort of wild beast. Twin revolvers appeared in Crowe's nimble hands before the thought even formed. She peppered the creature with lead bullets as it fell but the animal seemed to ignore the wounds. She had only a second to wonder at that before another creature leapt down from the branches above and tackled her too.

As they fell in a twisted embrace the creature raked her back tearing the linen shirt and drawing thin ribbons of blood. She fired her last four rounds into the creature at point blank range before they hit the ground driving the wind from her. Amazingly the creature still lived, it reared on its hind legs and howled over her.

Crowe could not look away; it was some sort of humanoid wolf! It was covered in fur but walked on its hind legs (with an elongated shin just like a wolf) but the clawed hands clearly had opposable thumbs.

A new species!

She could not believe her luck.

Of course all the discoveries in the world would mean nothing unless she survived to report this back to the Royal Institute of Exploration.

The creature lowered its snout revealing its sharp teeth. Lauren could feel its foul breath on her chest as it came closer to her vulnerable neck.

Closer...

Closer...

***

The foul stench of unwashed fur sent Lauren Crowe's memory back five years to the Case of the Druid's Destiny...

Bridgett's studies of the ancient Celtic Druids had lead her back to the land of her birth where her uncle Shamus had promised to offer insight into her heritage. But her studies were interrupted when Bridgett was kidnapped. Her two companions had journeyed into the darkest reaches of Killarney to return her. They had found more than they bargained for.

Lauren and Running Deer had been ambushed by small men dressed in garments made from leaves and rendered insensible by their drugged darts. They awoke in a clearing, bound to stone monoliths under the moonlight. Other monoliths surrounded the clearing and in the center was a stone altar, and bound to it was the nude form of Bridgett!

The Irish girl was clearly drugged and delirious, moaning and writhing in a most unladylike way. Around her were gathered a dozen bearded men in hooded brown robes. In their hands were sharp scythes and branches of mistletoe. Lauren had never seen much need to learn the heathen tongue of the Irish but from what little Gaelic she had picked up she could tell they were summoning some one they called the Woodgod. Some one, or some thing.

The robed druids brought their scythes down on Bridgett making shallow cuts in her fair skin so that small streams of blood fell upon the altar. All around the clearing wolves howled, birds took wing, the wind picked up drowning out the druid's chants and Lauren's curses as she struggled with the thick hemp rope that bound her.

Across from them the trees swayed and parted allowing a massive figure to emerge. It was nearly ten feet tall and human in shape. Black fur covered most of its body but the chest and face were bare. Long deer-like horns sprouted from its head like a forest crown and between its legs a thick phallus jutted forth like third leg.

This was the Woodgod.

The circle of druids made way for their master, the black creature scooped up poor Bridgett like a doll. Her ropes snapped like twine. The virginal Irish lass wrapped her arms around the creature and pressed her legs into his flanks like ridding a horse. He entered her somehow (Lauren had never understood the mechanics of how such a large... thing had even fit between her friend's legs) and Bridgett let out an earsplitting scream.

Enraged beyond all measure by her friend's violation Lauren found the strength inside herself to break the ropes binding her and charged forward. Running Deer was already two steps ahead of her having found a cunning way to slip free of the knots.

The Druids moved to stop them but the elderly woodsmen were no match for the two adventuress' fighting skills. Soon they were unconscious or fleeing and the two women were left alone with the bestial rapist.

Lauren reached down and found that even the ignorant Irish savages had known enough to take her revolvers, she reached lower and found to her joy they had missed the twin throwing knives in her boots.

Running Deer had no such concealed weapons (and to tell the truth no where to conceal them in her skimpy dress) but took off her bone necklace, wrapped it around an abandoned shillelagh and began to strike at the creature.

Lauren threw one blade (burying it in the creature's arm) and leapt on the creature's back stabbing it with the other.

All the time Bridgett panted and moaned and howled with delight.

When the sun began to rise it was all over. The Druids had disappeared into their forests and the body of their mysterious master had finally fallen, dissolving into shadowy mist in the light of day. Bridgett slept for three days but seemed otherwise unharmed. If anything she seemed brighter and healthier than before, and she claimed to have received insights into the nature of the natural world. She had spent weeks wandering Ireland hoping to find someone who would explain what had happened, what she was feeling but after her friends' sacrilege no one would talk to her. She left Ireland heartbroken and had never returned. She had spent the following years learning on her own how to properly use her gifts. To this day she wondered what the purpose of the ceremony had been, was she some sort of virgin sacrifice, as Lauren insisted, or was there a greater purpose to instill her with magical forces? Bridgett might never know the truth.

Needless to say her mistress was little help. Lauren just assumed it Bridgett's 'insights' were dementia brought on by shock. To this day she insisted they had fought a bear and that it was only the druid's hallucinogenic drugs that made them imagine that outlandish beast.

And nothing would convince her otherwise.

***

Back in the year 1864...

A flash of white! A shower of blood! A death!

And Lauren Crowe stood triumphant!

She had played possum for the creature until its own neck was close enough for her to stab it with her twin boot knives. Bridgett had given her the two throwing knives in Mexico when they were investigating the Mystery of Montozuma's Mummy; they were silver and had been blessed by a Catholic priest. Crowe saw no value in these attributes they were finely balanced well-made and quite beautiful weapons. She was glad to see they had served her well again.

The creature twitched a few times and started to crawl for the woods. Crowe let it leave knowing it would be dead in minutes and rushed to the aid of her faithful Indian companion.

Thankfully Running Deer needed no help, she had already dispatched the creature with strong blows from her talisman-laden tomahawk. The other wolf creature fled into the woods bleeding heavily. Lauren doubted it would live more than a few minutes.

"Did you see them!" she asked her bare breasts quivering with excitement and excursion. "Some sort of lupine primate! A new species of mammal! Doctor Darwin will have to rewrite his theories..."

"Brave Crow are you truly so blind? These were no animals we faced, they are men possessed by the spirit of the wolf, those whom your storytellers call werewolves."

"Oh tish-tosh Running Deer! There's no such thing as werewolves, though these may well be the animals that inspired those tales. Come let us recover their bodies and see the truth!"

Pausing only to retrieve her spare shirt Crowe and Running Deer took off into the woods. But a search of the forest found no trace of the wolf-primates only two nude men dead from slash wounds.

"They must be villagers slain by the wolf-primates as they fled."

Running Deer knew better than to argue.

Chapter 2 - A Walk in the Woods

The Fairy sang.

She sang of beauty and of life and joy and of spring. She sang to the trees and to the flowers and to the birds to the air itself. The forest around her sang in return, thanking Arial for her efforts.

Everything was in balance. Everything was right.

The fairy had no age. She had been born eons ago with this forest. She had been reborn with each spring. To a mortal she appeared as a young girl just entering the full bloom of her womanhood. By autumn she would appear as an aged crone. That was the way of things. This time she was known as Arial Morning Glory (if her name were translated into a human tongue). In the past she had had other names, but in this time that is who she was.

She sang to her brothers and sisters and each year fewer of them sang back. This made her sad but she could do little. There was only one constant rule in the world it is that things change. From the smallest insect to the mightiest oak all things will fall in time. Even immortals.

As the sun came over the trees Arial spread her dragonfly wings and took flight over her domain. It was a little smaller this spring, more trees had fallen to the cold iron of men and been turned into their tame fields.

She landed in her favorite pool, submerged in the cool waters and then leapt upwards her thin green garment clinging to her every curve. Though human in form, Arial was by no means human in every regard. Her arms and legs were much longer in proportion to her slim body. Her body was long and thin as well but curved in all the proper places. But the real difference was to be seen in her face; the long almond shaped eyes, the violet irises, the long flowing green hair that stretched down to her thighs and the two thin antenna that grew from the corners of her eyes. But her beauty was such that no observer would ever be disturbed by such details; the few men who had seen her had fallen at her feet begging for permission to gaze upon her.

A few had died of starvation.

A sound disturbed her thoughts. Something watched, something not of her realm. She spun her head to catch sight of the intruder but it vanished swiftly in a flutter of black wings.

***

That night Bridgett was extra diligent in setting up her protective circle not even bothering to hide her preparations from Lauren or to react to her caustic barbs. As Running Deer hunted down dinner she pleaded with her mistress not to risk herself.

"Please m'lady, can you not feel it? There is something dark out there, darker than a coalmine at midnight and you will not be safe outside of camp! Think of what happened last night!"

"I suppose Bridgett you would have me ride home in terror now and hide beneath my covers? We're both a bit old for ghost stories don't you think?"

"But m'lady, do you not recall the Case of the Spectral Manor? After that how can you dismiss talk of ghost stories?"

"Bridgett, those things we saw were just smoke and mirrors. Did I not prove it was part of a plan by old Mrs. Witherspoon to scare people off the land so she could buy it cheaply? And those things we felt..."

Lauren's mind strayed back to that strange evening when unseen hands groped her heaving bosom, strange forces levitated her above the bed rotating her slowly and something unseen but quite familiar probed between her legs. That had been a long, hot, pleasant night. She shook her head at the memory and the strange feelings it always aroused.

"...the er, things we felt were just the power of suggestion. Nothing more. I am certain of that."

"M'lady-"

"Tut, tut Bridgett..." Lauren placed her index finger over her companion's quivering lips. "I promise I will do nothing incautious tonight if you will cease these children's tales. Honestly, sometimes you sound as ignorant as Running Deer."

After the sun set a cold thick mist appeared seeming to start just outside the light of the campfire making everything gray and indistinct. Even Lauren had no desire to spend the night outside in that. The three women bedded down to sleep.

"Lauren... come to me..."

"Pardon?" She sat up in her bedroll.

"...come...I have found her for you..."

Lauren looked left and right. Bridgett's snores were clearly audible and Running Deer too seemed to be in a deep sleep. Who was calling?

She rose to her feet neglecting to don her boots or put something over her thin nightshirt. She had left her long dark hair down, her customary braid was uncomfortable to sleep in, she brushed it from her eyes.

"...this way..."

Someone in the mist?

She walked towards the voice, away from the firelight, away from Bridgett's protective circle and into the chilling fog.

The cold hit her instantly soaking through her shirt exposing her erect nipples, large brown areolas, well-defined abdomen and neatly trimmed bush. Many Englishmen would have paid a fortune to see that sight. Unfortunately none of them were present. But someone was.

"The Count... But how?" Lauren asked. Her voice was distant as if she was in a daze. The tall count was standing in the middle of the uncharted forest wearing nothing but a pair of black breeches and a long black cape. It seemed... odd, but Lauren could not quite find the words to voice her questions.

"It matters not my huntress. I bring you tidings of your prey. You must go towards the lake to the northwest. You must be there at dawn, leave immediately. Be ready for your prey."

"Yes... I understand..."

"And you must remember who you are, a woman of reason. You are hunting an animal, nothing more. And any who say different..."

"...are ignorant savages" she completed.

"Yes, excellent, excellent. I knew you would be my perfect huntress."

He looked again at her, his thin blood turning hot. The count's eyes narrowed in thought. He knew he should not, it was too soon, the others would know.

But...

He looked at her breasts rising and falling under the transparent wet shirt. He looked longer. His teeth began to sharpen and grow.

Oh what the hell, surely even the Irish witch would not notice a small taste.

He stepped closer to her warm body and embraced the unresisting Victorian lady. As his arms engulfed her Lauren changed from merely unresisting to eager, kissing the count's bare chest, her own arms embracing his pallid skin. He opened his mouth wide baring the needle like teeth and sank them into her warm neck.

The heroic adventuress convulsed under him gasping in undisguised pleasure. It was the noise that made him stop. While the woman was truly delicious he still needed her and her companions to stalk the prey. Afterwards of course... things would be different.

He wondered how long this Lauren Crowe would last before fading to little more than a pale ghost of her former self. He had no thoughts of turning her, he had tasted the woman and seen her iron will (however blinded by her faith in science it was). The count had no desire to face her as a peer.

***

Bridgett's eyes opened wide. She could feel it. The proverbial 'something wicked this way comes'. She looked around, she could see Running Deer's chest rising and falling steadily but Lauren's bedroll had been abandoned!

She groped for her grimoire struggling to remember a spell of banishment. She had just found the right diagram when the figure entered the camp, it was Lady Crowe. She wore her nightshirt but the dampness made it an obscene garment, Bridgett could see her mistress' hips swaying under the shirt as if she were some Paris streetwalker.

"M'lady?" She asked bewildered. "Where did you-"

Crowe's withering glance silenced her. "I do not think it is any of your business where I go to answer the call of nature."

Bridgett blushed; it had been nothing after all. "No m'lady of course not..."

"Now wake up Running Deer, I believe I know where we will find our prey."

Across the camp Running Deer watched the scene through narrowed eyes.

***

Arial sang again, this time her songs were tinged with a melancholy sadness. Two of her protectors had fallen to the cold metal weapons of man and even now a great evil walked freely in her forest.

She was not afraid, even a creature empowered by death was no match for her here. But she was saddened. The balance of things had been disturbed.

Once again she flew over the forest with the dawn, awakening the trees and joining the birds in their song as they greeted another day. She flew low over her favorite lake greeting the fish and the lilies. She dove down to the bottom and ascended straight up into the air, hovering above the cool pond letting the water drip from her.

Then she felt them.

Humans.

Three of them, two positively glowing with life, the other touched by darkness. But only touched. The poor mortal could still be healed.

She turned in midair and began to walk towards them, her thin wings vibrating swiftly to support her.

She opened her mouth to sing a song of healing and help the poor shadowed mortal.

She heard a twang.

She cried out as cold iron entered her bare shoulder.

Her wings stopped.

She fell face first into the water and did not move.

***

"Got her!" Crowe cried raising her crossbow. "What a magnificent specimen!"

Next to her Bridgett opened and closed her mouth in horror. Tears fell freely down her cheeks. A fairy! It had been so, so beautiful. Now it was... dead?

Running Deer took a step back glaring at her companion with disgust. She fingered her tomahawk.

Crowe slapped her friend's behind, pushing her forward. "Go on Bridgett, get it. You too Running Deer. I'll get out the chains." Crowe started walking back towards the horses.

The two others looked at each other and at the floating body before them. They saw a wing twitch.

Bridgett and Running Deer ran into the water.

The Indian warrior woman cradled the mystical creature in her arms. The winged woman was surprisingly light. Bridgett carefully removed the barbed iron crossbow bolt from her shoulder and bound the wound with a strip from her own skirt. The fairy's large violet eyes fluttered open. She smiled weakly at the bright-spirited women who had saved her from the pain of cold iron. Running Deer laid her out on the soft grass.

"Ah! Capital job you two!" Crowe stepped over Bridgett, reached down and locked an iron collar on her captive. The fairy screamed and convulsed. Running Deer jumped back, her tomahawk already in her hand.

Seemingly unconcerned Crowe continued to bind the fairy locking iron bands around its wrists and ankles connected by chains. "Still alive I see, capital, capital. I tried just to wound it. Bridgett will you hold it still please? Bridgett? Oh never mind, I'll just gag it myself." She silenced the creature with a leather gag and stood up. She noted her friend's fighting stance. "Oh don't worry Running Deer, this creature can't harm us, these chains would hold a rampaging gorilla."

"Brave Crow... can you be blind?" She sniffed in Crowe's direction and wrinkled her nose. "Are you even yourself?"

"Pardon? Well of course I'm myself Running Deer, in fact I feel more clear-headed than ever! Now help me get this creature on the horse and let's start heading back."

Running Deer looked at Crowe standing proud and imperious over her captive. She looked at Bridgett sobbing uncontrollably at the sight of the bound fairy. She looked at the graceful spirit bound in hard iron. Her eyes narrowed, she turned on her heel and walked towards her steed.

"Running Deer? Running Deer? Where are you going?"

She heard hoof beats from the path.

"Running Deer?"

The hoof beats disappeared.

"Humph. Temperamental savage. Well I'm sure she'll be back. Now come Bridgett, we have many miles to go."

***

Lauren swore like a sailor for the rest of the day. Bridgett was completely useless; crying like a lovesick girl and demanding that Crowe release the specimen. The specimen too was a nuance, it just lay like a sack of potatoes draped across the back of Bridgett's horse and falling frequently (Crowe made the Irish servant walk of course, it was only fitting).

Even this accursed forest seemed to turn against her, branches seemed to jump out to lash her across the face. Roots rose out of nowhere in an attempt to trip her steed. Biting insects of all sorts bedeviled her; a colony of red ants somehow entered her riding breaches forcing her to strip and conduct a painful and humiliating hunt across her bare legs.

She barely traveled three miles before the sun set again.

Bridgett could not find the energy to set a protective circle. How could she work magic after aiding in this... crime? Instead she opened her grimoire and began to study by firelight. The fairy had been bound to a tree, more iron chains draped around it and the trunk. It was still gagged. Bridgett had seen Crowe wearing the keys on a chain under her linen shirt.

Another cold fog rolled in, this time blanketing the camp.

Without a word Crowe stepped out into the fog.

Bridgett felt her heart flutter, did she dare to do it? She looked again at the bound fairy, so beautiful, so innocent, in so much pain. Did she dare not?

***

In the fog Crowe could hear the sounds of battle. Animal growls and the twang of crossbows, the flapping of leather wings. It seemed to be close and all around.

She saw the count waiting for her in a clearing. His cloak was torn and a wolf-like creature lay dead at his feet. Other shadowy figures lurked in the fog behind him. He smiled at her. She smiled back and began unbuttoning her shirt.

***

Bridgett steeled herself.

She had faced horrors before. Evil creatures from the depths of a nightmare. But this was different. She was defying the woman she... respected more than any other, a woman she had idolized her entire life, a friend who had saved her life more times than she could count. A woman she had trusted implicitly.

But Crowe was wrong. This was wrong. This was monstrous.

She found the correct page and moved closer to the fairy. The dryad's violet eyes were wet with tears of pain and of gratitude. Bridgett recited the words of power from her book and touched the ankle cuffs, they sprang open.

She started the chant again, gesturing towards the fairy's thin wrists.

Her chant was cut off by a cold blade touching her neck and a strong hand in her hair.

"What's all this then?"

"M'lady... I..."

"I can see quite clearly Bridgett. More clearly than ever before." Crowe took her hand from Bridgett's hair and locked the fairy's ankle cuffs again.

"I don't know why you decided to defy me girl but rest assured it will not be tolerated again. Do I make myself clear?" Crowe pulled the knife towards her drawing a drop of blood.

Frightened Bridgett nodded.

"And I think I have tolerated your silly superstitions long enough." She withdrew the knife but seized Bridgett's grimoire before the Irish girl could move. With a flick of her wrist Crowe sent Bridgett's precious spellbook into the campfire where it vanished in a roar of blue flame.

The Irish girl knelt there stunned.

"Now come to bed Bridgett. We have a long day ahead of us."

***

Heartbroken Bridgett drifted to sleep. She rose the next morning to see her mistress slowly saddling her horse. The adventuress seemed slow and pale, despite what had happened last night Bridgett felt sympathy well up inside her.

"M'lady are you well?"

"Yes. Yes of course, I'm perfectly fine. Especially now that I have Dreg and Lurch to aid me."

Two malformed hunchbacks emerged from the woods carrying a long pole. Their limbs seemed either too long or too short, arms did not match legs, eyes were out of symmetry, strange bulges distorted their skulls and livid scars disfigured their faces. They seemed to have been assembled from spare parts. A rank carrion odor came from them assaulting Bridgett's button nose like a hammer. The two looked at the Irish girl with their strange eyes and traces of drool fell from their lips. She shuddered.

"The count sent these two lads to help us out now that the savage is gone. Now come along, I expect to make better time today."

***

The two deformed freaks strung the fairy on the pole between them like a dead deer and started moving. This day the forest was deadly quiet. The trees seemed strangely blighted as if by an early frost and not a bird or insect was to be heard.

Allowed to ride again, Bridgett pulled alongside her mistress.

"M'lady about Running Deer-"

Crowe smiled at her maidservant. "Bridgett, you have known me a long time, too long to be calling my 'm'lady'"

"Sorry m'lady" Bridgett said with a smile completing their old joke.

"No, I think by now you should be calling me mistress."

"Mistress?"

"Yes, it will help you remember your place. Now silence your chattering, if I want to hear your voice I will ask you a question."

"Yes m-mistress Crowe."

They rode in silence for the rest of the day.

Bridgett O'Malley could not even guess what had happened to Lauren. Nothing the Englishwoman said was completely out of character, she had always been prideful and contemptuous of magic but... this was too much. It was as though she had lost all of her positive traits in one day leaving only arrogant pride.

And the fairy... It cut into Bridgett's heart even to see the proud guardian of the forest strung up like a piece of meat.

But what could she do?

The Irish girl had relied on Crowe for leadership for her entire life. And Crowe had never steered her wrong. Could it be that the English noblewoman actually did know best in this case. She wished Running Deer were here. The Indian had left them in anger a few times before but had always returned within a day or two, her blood-debt to Crowe outweighing her pride. But this time... would she come back?

More than once Bridgett thought she saw someone watching them from the underbrush but she could never quite catch sight of their pursuer. In her heart she hoped it was Running Deer.

Strangely, Crowe told them to set camp a little before noon. She looked pale and was sweating profusely. Was she ill?

Bridgett tried to get close to the fairy to at least offer her some refreshment but the two freakish porters snarled at her and drove her away.

With nothing else to do Bridgett took out a towel and headed for the stream to wash and to think. Secretly she hoped Running Deer was out there and would choose to reveal herself then.

Once she was satisfied she could not be observed Bridgett removed her long red dress and carefully set it on a stone. Her white undergarment was next and then her brassiere and panties. Normally she did not remove all of her clothes to bathe, especially not in the wild but the experiences of the past few days had made her feel especially dirty. She splashed in the river a bit and let herself float.

What to do?

What to do?

The destruction of her grimoire was especially bad. She had others back at Crowe Manor but it had been her favorite tome. Without its diagrams and instructions she could only use the handful of simple spells she knew by heart. More complex feats of magic were beyond her, without written instructions the chance of miscasting was too great. The spell might not work or even worse might malfunction disastrously. She remembered the time she had miscast a healing spell and sent her two companions into fits of unrestrained lust. What a night that had been!

With her grimoire Bridgett might have been able to attempt some scrying spells or even a cleansing spell for whatever strange malady was affecting her beloved mistress. But without it...

She heard rustling in the bushes and paddled towards shore. She climbed on the rock and wrapped a towel around herself.

"Running Deer? Are you there?"

"No Bridgett, it's not the savage." Crowe stepped out onto the riverbank and put her boot on Bridgett's clothes. The two freakish porters followed her, drooling more conspicuously than ever. Bridgett shrieked and wrapped the towel tighter.

"I wondered what mischief you were up to by yourself and now I see you were planning some sort of rendezvous with the savage. A friendly visit? Or were you plotting to betray me?"

"M'lady..."

Quick as a snake Crowe's hand dashed out and pulled the towel away leaving Bridgett bare before her and the two malforms. Bridgett shrieked again and tried to cover herself with her hands.

"Bridgett you will remember to call me mistress won't you?" She tapped the Irish girl lightly on the cheek.

"M-mistress Crowe, you, you're not yourself, you must realize you would never..."

Crowe's hand darted out again seizing Bridgett's mane of red hair and pulling her forward. Crowe sat herself on a rock and pulled her shrieking servant's body over her knee. She painfully twisted Bridgett's hair. "Oh Bridgett, I blame myself really. For too long I have been lax with you, allowing you all sorts of inappropriate liberties and never taking the time to properly discipline you after your failures. Well you will be grateful to know that ends now. Lurch, your cudgel please."

One of the deformed servants handed her a thick oak rod.

"No! Lauren please no! This isn't you! Something's wrong!"

"How many" (Lauren brought down the rod with her full strength on Bridgett's exposed backside) "times" (she bought it down again) "must I" (again) "tell you" (again) "call me" (again) "MISTRESS!"

The forest echoed with Bridgett's howls!

***

The Irish girl spent the rest of the day painfully bound with her hands behind a tree trying to sit on her reddened backside. She was now as much a prisoner as the fairy. She'd been allowed to wear her undergarment, a thin cotton gown the barely reached her knees. Against her wet body it became almost transparent. As Crowe slept during the day the two twisted servants leered at her with undisguised lust. One even came close and squeezed her breasts. The humiliated Irish girl had no more tears to cry.

The other pulled him away and grunted in some guttural language. They moved away from Bridgett to the long-legged form of the fairy. The mysterious creature was bound and gagged and in obvious pain but something of her allure could still be seen. Her legs were long and supple, her breasts firm and round, despite the alien aspects of her face it was still quite lovely. Her violet eyes bored into Bridgett's soul pleading for help. Bridgett could offer none.

The two freaks looked at Crowe's sleeping form and decided she would not stir any time soon.

They undid the chain binding the Fairy to the tree. Bridgett started to shout a warning but one of the freaks cuffed her on the side of the head. Before she could recover her senses he shoved a rag into her mouth muffling her cries.

The other threw the fairy over his shoulder and carried her into the woods.

For the next hour Bridgett heard brutish grunts and muffled cries from the forest.

She had thought she had more tears to cry.

She was wrong.

Chapter 3 - A Stay at the Castle

Shortly before sunset Crowe rose and dressed. She was still pale but was sweating less. The servants tied Bridgett to her saddle (feeling her bare legs as they lifted her) and took the fairy again. Crowe rode ahead, rarely speaking, just cursing the others when they did not move quickly enough.

They pushed on through the night, undisturbed by the quiet forest. Soon they were out of the woods and the castle's rotting towers appeared on the horizon.

A troop of the count's men met them along the road and fell in around them. Despite the late hour villagers came out to see them and made warding signs. For a second Bridgett thought she saw a woman's shape watching from a cottage roof but then it was gone.

As the moon began to set they passed through the thick gates of the castle. Bridgett heard them slam shut behind her like a prison door. But to her surprise Bridgett was helped off her horse by a charming guard named Victor, her ropes were undone and she was shown to her room. There she found her luggage waiting for her and was finally allowed to dress herself. She took a few minutes to meditate and try to reconstruct her knowledge of magic. Even without the book she could recall a minor enchantment of concealment. Not enough to make her truly invisible but certainly enough mask her presence from most observers.

She now knew something was wrong with Lauren. Angry as she was, she knew her mistress was not herself. She needed help. Bridgett completed the spell and slipped out of her room. The guard outside never even noticed the door opening and closing.

Another minor feat of magic helped Bridgett get an idea of where her mistress was and helped her navigate the twisted halls of the castle to find her. As she did this Bridgett cursed herself for not remembering this spell sooner; she might have used it to find Running Deer! She emerged at a neglected balcony over looking the count's dinning hall. Lauren Crowe faced the count at opposite ends of a thirty-foot table.

The Victorian woman had changed out of her riding clothes into a black silk dress whose plunging neckline left the tops of her magnificent breasts exposed for all to see. Bridgett's underclothes were more modest than that dress! She had taken her long brown hair out of its typical braid and let it hang freely on her bare shoulders and around her neck.

A white haired platinum blond woman served them both but the count had nothing on the table but a drinking goblet. Crowe however was eagerly attacking her third plate of venison. Now that she had eaten Crowe seemed more herself; her voice was stronger and more certain.

"That picture my Count-"

"Please call me Vlad."

Crowe smiled. Perhaps tonight would be special after all. "Vlad, it that picture you? It seems too old..."

"This painting, no, no, it is of my ancestor and namesake."

"The one they called the Impaler? Why hang a picture of such a man in your dinning room?"

"Vlad the Impaler was a harsh man that is true but he did what was necessary to protect our land from the heathen Turks and that is to be admired. Surely you yourself have had to be cruel at times?"

"Yes, I suppose I have. Like on this journey... I really do not know what came over me. I only hope that Bridgett can forgive my... rash actions. She is my oldest friend and I do not know what I would do without her."

"Perhaps my dear you can visit her later and explain."

"Well of course! But to be honest I can not explain it myself."

Bridgett felt joy. She almost wanted to jump and call out to her mistress then and there.

Then the count spoke.

"It seems obvious to me. Your servant spoke out of turn, you were right to discipline her."

"But Bridgett and I have never been like that, she is my friend, my anchor, she had kept me sane and whole even through the toughest times. I cannot even imagine why I..."

"No matter. That is between you and your wayward maid. I am sure you will resolve your differences properly." He rose to his feet and walked around to Crowe's side. Crowe's face brightened as he approached. When he put a hand on her shoulder she gasped and looked up at him. Unconsciously she flicked her hair out of the way baring her shoulder and neck.

The count ran his face along her skin enjoying the smell of her; he whispered something in her ear and kissed her neck. Lauren sighed contentedly.

His teeth grew long, his smile grew wide, he sank his teeth into her neck.

Bridgett had to stifle her scream.

***

Bridgett had returned swiftly to her room almost in a panic.

Vampires! She knew of them only through folklore and even she who had seen so much had always assumed they were just legends created to legitimize and romanticize seduction or rape. But if vampires were real were all the rumors them correct? Would garlic help? Or a cross? Would running water stop the count? What about a stake through the heart? Bridgett had no idea.

She prepared a protection charm and the few offensive spells she could recall. She out her cross around her neck and left her room ready to save her mistress.

She walked ten feet out of the room when her way was blocked by Dreg and Lurch. The two freaks filled the corridor ahead of her like a wall of misshapen flesh and grunted at her. She took a step back. They took a step closer. She concentrated on her protection charm but it was a ward against the supernatural. Normal people, however horrifying in appearance, were undisturbed by it, the protective sphere popped like a soap bubble.

She turned to run one of them caught her with its ape-like arm and pulled her to it. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of an unwashed body and rotten flesh. The other reached towards her neck and pulled off the silver cross, tossing it to the flagstones below. Her captor licked her neck with his impossibly long tongue. The one in front took the hem of her skirt and petticoat and began to lift. Bridgett slammed her legs together with all her strength. The creature before her brought his scarred and mismatched lips towards hers. Courage forgotten Bridgett screamed.

There was a silver flash and Lurch's head flew from its shoulders! Before her eyes could even register the event there was another flash and a blade passed below her arm into Dreg's heart. The two freaks were dead before their bodies hit the ground. There was remarkably little blood just a few traces of black ichor.

"M'lady?" Bridgett asked looking up.

She heard laughter. "Oh dear, I don't think anyone has ever mistaken me for a lady!"

Bridgett looked at her rescuer, one of the count's men, Victor she remembered his name was. He was dressed in a modern cavalry uniform and carried a thin saber. His curly blond hair and piercing blue eyes jumped out at Bridgett. Her heart would not slow down and somehow she knew it was not just from fright.

"These two have always been trouble but I am amazed at the depths to which they sank. Shocking. Truly shocking. The count shall hear of this you can be sure. Are you all right miss..."

"O'Malley"

"O'Malley? Is that Irish? I don't think I have met anyone from your land before."

Bridgett allowed the handsome officer to take her hand and lead her back towards her room. She thought briefly of her silver cross sitting on the floor but somehow it did not seem important. Victor was certainly handsome.

Safely back in her room Bridgett told Victor about some of her adventures and he spoke of the battles he had been in. She described how cruel her mistress had been and how frightening the two freakish men were. She started to remember that she had to do something but could not quite remember what. She started to cry. He put an arm around her in comfort. She accepted a small kiss on the cheek. And then another. And one on her lips. Somehow her dress came undone and fell to the floor. Her undergarment followed quickly. Her pink skin and brown freckles were bared to her rescuer and he anointed them with tender kisses.

She fell back on the bed and he moved between her legs, unbuttoning the fly of his tight riding breeches. She moaned as he entered her, eager to forget the horrors of what she had endured, happy to accept this moment of pleasure. Some small part of her objected but it was easy to ignore. Victor's teeth grew long, his smile wide, he entered her again drinking her strong blood. She lost all control and screamed in orgasmic pleasure.

***

The count and the lady walked down the corridor. Crowe was walking slowly and sluggishly, leaning on the handsome nobleman for support. Her glazed eyes barely registered her surroundings; she barely noticed the Count's hand on her butt.

"I should check on Bridgett... I was a little harsh on her before..."

"Of course Lady Crowe, we are going there now. I'm sure she will be happy to see you."

"I miss her... she's so sweet and innocent... and I miss Running Deer... why did Running Deer leave me..."

"Do not worry Lady Crowe, I will endeavor to keep you entertained."

"Mmm, you're so sweet..." Crowe turned to face him and rubbed her sizable breasts against the Count's chest.

Reluctantly he pushed her away. "Here we are Lady Crowe, your maidservant's quarters. I believe you wish to properly greet her?"

He snapped his fingers, Crowe's eyes focused, her vacant smile became a look of determination. The adventuress opened the door to Bridgett's room.

"YES! Victor, yes, MORE!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

The young officer released the Irish girl and spun to face the visitors in the doorway. Seeing the count he rose to his feet and saluted, forgetting to close his fly or even conceal his member.

Bridgett sat up in bed confused. Seeing Crowe she pulled up a sheet to conceal her nakedness.

Crowe advanced on her and delivered a fierce backhanded slap almost knocking the girl out of bed. "How dare you! I come to see you and find you in bed like a common street harlot."

"M'lady... I... I can explain..."

"Obviously no amount of civilization will ever rid you of your Irish ways! Be gone! You are dismissed from my service, I never want to see you again!"

"But... m'lady you're..."

"GET OUT!" Crowe screamed like a banshee pulling the Irish girl from the bed by her hair. She dropped Bridgett on the floor and kicked her until the Count put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. She then turned on her heel and left.

The Count looked down at the Irish mystic with a smile. She lay there naked, bruised and weeping, her juices still running down between her tights, spots of blood still wet on her shoulders. She looked up at the two men, the two vampires, and despaired. Had she really thought she could stand against such creatures? She thought of the cruel sneer on Crowe's face. Did she really think that woman was worth her loyalty?

"I think you had best leave before sunrise. I do not know if I can restrain her rage next time."

He grinned at her with pointed teeth and laughed. Victor joined him.

***

Bridgett rode from the castle a half-hour before dawn, her few possessions bounced in a bundle behind her. Tears clouded her vision; a cold rain began to fall. She didn't know where she was going or what she would do. Her friends were gone, her purpose was gone, she felt absolutely alone in the world. She let her mare find her own way. She just didn't care. She vaguely registered that she had entered the woods again.

Then something dropped onto the horse behind her. A hand clamped over her mouth and a strong arm crushed her windpipe.

She fell unconscious.

Her assailant dismounted and led the horse deeper into the woods.

***

Arial knew pain. And darkness. And fear.

She was bound in cold iron. Imprisoned in hard stone. Surrounded by the forces of death, by mockeries of life.

Her once glowing garment was a dull gray now, torn and soiled in many places. Her flowery crown was long gone. Her green hair filthy and knotted and her bright eyes dull. Her incandescent wings were dry and flaking.

She had lived many lives with her forest. She had died with each winter and reborn each spring. But now she longed for True Death. Many of her brothers and sisters had fallen before, to axes and fire and machines. They had been killed by the indifference of man. But Arial knew this would not be her fate. She had not been brought down by indifference, but by hatred and evil.

The Count would drink from her immortal blood, filled with the essence of life. The parasite would gain from her power becoming stronger and mightier. He would rape her mind and learn more of her people. He would hunt them as well. Lauren Crowe's hunt had not just doomed Arial; it had doomed the entire world.

Arial's gag had been removed. She sang a song of sadness and despair that would have driven a human to madness.

If anyone human had heard.

***

"My Count? Vlad? Surely you do not wish for me to..." Laura shuddered in her silk outfit and veil. "They're so fearsome... and... I don't want... my Count, I cannot... I will not!" She met his cold eyes with a steely gaze for a few seconds before lowering her eyes again. "I mean... if it is all the same..."

The Count snarled, the woman's indomitable will was beginning to show itself again. It had been three days since her last companion had abandoned her, three days of feasting on her warm blood and corrupting her remaining morals yet some small part of her resisted still. Normally he would savor that last morsel of resistance before crushing it but he had more important captives to deal with.

The fairy had driven three of his servants mad with her songs of despair, he had been forced to burn out the eardrums of the several so that they could stand watch. He had hoped several days in cold iron would break the fey's power but still she sang.

He had found blades of grass growing between the stones of his dungeon!

The Count did not dare approach such a creature until she was weak and powerless. Even then he would need all his power to drain her of her magics and her secrets. Hence this diversion to break Crowe's will even further.

"My Lady Crowe, have not my servants pleased you? Did you not enjoy your meal last night, your hot bath, our bed? Do they not deserve a special reward? They may seem grotesque to some eyes but Lady Crowe you are a world traveler, you of all women must appreciate that people around the world are different and that which some find frightening are simply different."

"But..." her resolve was crumbling, he could feel it.

"Besides my dear Lady Crowe, did you not bed a black African? After that how can you claim any standards at all? Even the lowest harlot in Paris would not stoop so low."

Crowe felt a flash of anger at those words, how dare this miserable Balkan count refer to her beloved King Botota like that! Botota was the one man she had ever loved, she had nearly chosen to stay with him in his hidden kingdom of Va'al and leave the modern world behind to be his white queen. Some nights she ached and moaned with longing and would give anything to feel him sheathe his sword inside her again. How dare he...

The count realized he had miscalculated, a softer touch was called for.

"My Lady, you gave your word last night. But ask me I shall forget this matter but I must wonder how you forgot your promise to me so soon."

"I... I'll do it. I gave my word."

Crowe looked up again at the Count, so handsome, so charming, so intelligent. How could she disappoint him? The insult forgotten she nodded, kissed his cheek through the veil and strode towards the door. She had given her word.

The count smiled. Ah nobility! How simple it was to corrupt. With the right levers the truly honorable could be made to do anything.

***

The servants were assembled in the main hall, dozens of them, deformed freaks each more hideous then the one before. Bizarre homunculi created from grafted flesh reanimated through forbidden sciences. They were the Count's attempt to create servants of great strength who lacked the weaknesses of his vampire thralls. Here a demented giant 7' tall with an embedded twin growing from his ribs. There a stooped dwarf with the arms of a mighty ape. A composite created from two heads and two torsos fused at the ribs bellowed.

They howled when the lovely Crowe entered and stood before them.

Crowe paused for a minute to dry her tears. She had given her word.

She began to dance. It was foreign dance, a shamefully erotic performance she had learned in India and done only once before in the private apartments of King Botota after his victory over his mad brother. Their first night together.

Now she did it again. She had promised to entertain the Count's servants, and that is what she did.

She clinked her hand cymbals and swayed her hips gracefully. The veil hid her face but her naked eyes caressed the crowd. He breasts quivered under the sheer silk top swinging freely without a constricting brassiere.

The freaks hooted and howled, some in the back dropping their ragged trousers to stroke their swollen members.

Crowe danced for only five minutes before the first one rushed the stage. Her reflexes were slower than usual, and she was weaker, but she still managed a high kick that snapped the freak's neck. Two more took his place, their movements hampered by the pants around their ankles. Crowe took longer to dispatch them but managed to do so, though she lost her silken top to a three-armed creature's claw.

By then the whole crowd was moving towards her, moaning, chanting, drooling. Even at her peak she could not have beaten them all. As it was she was overwhelmed. Her sheer garments were torn from her shapely body and she was held spread-eagled on the floor by a scaly mongrel man and a giant with an iron plate welded to his head.

"No... please no..." Horror filled her eyes. She shook with fear at the carnival of horror leering at her. "Bridgett... Running Deer... please save me..." She cried. She begged.

If the brutes understood they made no sign of caring. The first one to enter her was a hairy creature with a massive member seemingly grafted from a bull.

Crowe began to scream.

***

Outside a lithe figure leapt from a gnarled oak tree to the castle wall. She scaled it as easily as a ladder and reached the top. Pausing only to dispatch one of the count's monstrous servants with a knife she lowered a rope for her companion.

Her companion took longer to climb, even with the rope but eventually she reached the top, winded but still ready for her task.

***

"A common harlot!"

"My Count no..."

"I ask you to entertain my servants and I find you cavorting with them in some eastern orgy! And you, taking four of them at once! I had not even thought such a thing possible!"

"Please my Count they made me..."

"Made you? That poor excuse has been used by every fallen woman in history from Eve to today. We both know that such things only happen to licentious women who crave it."

Crowe fell silent. How many times had she heard that in her life? How many times had she said it to her comrades? Her lost comrades. The Count was right. She was the lowest of the low.

She stood before him filthy, dressed only in a sheet. He had found her with his servants in a quite compromising position.

"From this day forth you are no longer a guest here Lauren Crowe. You will serve me at a scullery maid until such time as you learn to control your wanton desires."

"Y-yes" she said meekly.

"Yes what?"

"Yes... master."

She lowered her eyes in submission.

***

"Your crystal can locate the spirit?"

"I believe so, it was hard without my spellbook but I think..."

"Then go. I will find Brave Crow."

"Are you sure, she seemed to be under the Count's control. Can we even trust her?"

"Do you suggest I leave her?"

"No of course not-"

"Go! I will deal with Brave Crowe."

Chapter 4: A night in the Dungeons

Dressed in sackcloth Lauren stood before Svetlana, the castle's chief caretaker. The vampiress sneered at her and pointed down. Crowe kneeled.

"So you are the warm woman who so interested the count. I see now he is done with you."

A tear fell down Crowe's cheek. It was true; the Count had scorned her. She was cast out, fit only to serve as his most menial maid.

"Perhaps if you serve well he will one day accept you back in his bedchambers."

Crowe's heart leapt.

"Perhaps one day.... But first I think you can serve in the stables. Standing in horse shit is something that seems something appropriate to a woman of your character."

***

Bridgett held her blue crystal at arms length waving it up and down, left and right gauging the strength of the glow until she was sure which way to go. Down further, deeper into the castle. She was afraid of course. Deep down she knew that her mystic talents were still underdeveloped and that in a fight she had always relied on Crowe's revolvers or Running Deer's arrows.

But this time there was no one to rely on.

She was already taxing her mystic reserves by preparing three spells, the tracing spell that allowed her to locate the fairy's spirit, a concealment spell that had gotten her this far past the Count's guards and servants and a ward to repel evil spirits. She knew a few spells of purification and banishment that might serve her in a fight but they might just as easily overtax her and send her into unconsciousness.

In addition Running Deer had given her an ugly brutal pistol for self-defense. The Irish girl did not ask where or how her friend has gotten it. Not that it mattered; Bridgett was almost as scared of using it as she was of being caught.

Fortunately her concealment spell held up, letting her slip by the few souls she came across searching for a way down.

Victor passed her, a peasant girl under his arm. For a second it seemed he saw her but he continued by. Bridgett gave a sigh of relief. Even that brief contact had brought certain feelings back to her. She feared that if he had lingered any longer she would have rushed to be at his side.

Many minutes later she found herself by an iron door. The two deaf guards outside seemed oblivious to her. She opened it and slipped into the narrow corridor beyond. It was almost fifty feet long, sloping downwards and ending in another iron door. Bridgett could hear a soft song and noticed blades of grass poking through the stones. The light from her crystal was as bright as the moon. There was just one problem. There was someone ahead, a tall man in a dark cloak.

It was...

The Count turned and smiled.

"Good evening Bridgett."

***

"Good evening Brave Crow."

Running Deer could barely recognize Crowe. Even in the few days she had been the Count's guest her firm body had shriveled. Her arms and legs, toned from years of climbing and running were thin and bony. Her face was gaunt, as though she had not eaten properly in months. Her once-tan skin was now pale and colorless. The woman before her seemed only a few steps removed from a corpse.

It was horrible.

The sight brought back memories of the first time she saw the woman known as Lauren Crow.

The Cavalry had come just after dawn, burning her village killing most of the men. The children and the old women had been allowed to flee but the young women...

Running Deer had always been the fastest runner and strongest woman in her tribe but as a girl had never been allowed to hunt or fight. When her brother Strong Bear fell to the marauding Americans she sprinted across the camp dodging bullets and retrieved his bow. She loosed four arrows killing four of the blue-clad riders and buying time for more of her people to flee. Finally one rider got a lasso around her arms and pulled her from her feet. She was dragged around the camp several times until she was barely conscious.

The hairy, filthy sergeant stood over her magnificent form looking down at her breasts, barely concealed by the torn buckskin dress. He took out his bowie knife and cut away her remaining clothes. The wounded girl tried to fight but was too weak to stop him.

She saw him drop is trousers and felt her legs being pulled apart. Around her she could hear cries of horror and pain from the other women the soldiers had rounded up. Running Deer shut her eyes and tired to block out the world.

Then she heard the shot. She winced, thinking the soldiers had shot her but there was no pain. There was a thud.

She opened her eyes and sat up. The sergeant was dead, shot in the back. She looked upon a proud white woman stilling on a great white stallion holding a smoking revolver in her strong hand.

"Get out." She told the Americans.

One reached for his rifle but Running Deer's rescuer shot it from his hands. Another tried to get behind her but a few well-aimed rounds sent him scampering. The soldiers fled, frightened off by one magnificent woman.

She rode up and dismounted before Running Deer. She took a blanket from her saddlebag and offered it to the naked woman.

"Hullo, you've had a quite a fright I see. By any chance do you speak English?"

That was how she met her sister Brave Crow. Her companions Bridgett O'Malley, Marianne Turquine and Brenda 'Bullets' Bernard rode up soon after. That night the survivors held a feast for their deliverers and Running Deer pledged herself to serve Brave Crow until the end of her days.

Together they had seen more of the world than Running Deer ever knew existed. They had met kings and heroes and battled gods and monsters.

Turquine left them a while ago, when the exiled French noblewoman found herself crowned queen of a lost island of Amazons in the Mediterranean. As for the American woman 'Bullets', the less said about her the better. Suffice to say they would not meet again as friends. But Running Deer, Bridgett and Lauren Crowe had been inseparable.

Until now.

***

Crowe dropped the shovel startled. It was impossible but... there she was.

"Running Deer! Oh Running Deer I've missed you so, I mean, go away you savage, I have work to do, I mean..." Crowe's head began to swim, different voices shouted at her. She fell her knees in a pile of horse shit and started to cry. "Help me... please..."

"Help you? I came here looking for Brave Crow, my blood sister to whom I owe my life. Instead I find a sniveling maid wallowing in horse dung."

Running Deer spat on the weeping noblewoman and gave her a harsh kick in the ribs as well.

"Running Deer what are you-"

Lauren took a kick across the chin.

"Please Running Deer-"

Running Deer drove her heel into the back of Lauren's head driving her open mouth deep into the pile of shit.

"Perhaps that will teach you your place-"

Lauren's leg shot out almost tripping Running Deer but the Indian warrior did a simple somersault and landed on the balls of her feet ten feet away.

"Slow white woman. Slow and clumsy."

Crowe rose to her feet livid with rage and charged spitting excrement from her full lips. Running Deer dodged easily and delivered an elbow to the back of the head sending the Englishwoman back down into the dirt.

"My father always told me the pale skins were an inferior race of savages."

Crowe roared and leapt to her feet gracefully. She delivered a barrage of blows all parried with some effort by Running Deer. The Indian woman countered with a blow to the face and another to the gut. Crowe staggered back several feet.

The Englishwoman was panting now, her arms felt as heavy as lead. But she fought on. Thoughts of the Count's orders, her own wishes, her doubts, her fears were gone. All she cared about we defeating this savage who assaulted and humiliated her. She picked up a shovel and swung at Running Deer who barely dodged. After three more swings she finally connected with the side of her friend's head sending the Indian into the mud.

Crowe threw away the shovel and straddled the Indian landing blow after blow on her face.

"Red savage! How dare you! Do you know who I am? I am Lauren Crowe, heiress to the House of Crowe! I am no one's servant..."

Crowe stopped. And smiled.

Running Deer smiled as well.

They embraced and laughed. Then they wept.

"Please Running Deer, how can you forgive me after what I did to you, what I said..."

"Brave Crowe you were not yourself, the dark Count enslaved your will, perverted you, but I knew in the end your heart would win out."

"It wasn't my heart that won Running Deer. It was my pride. That was the weapon the Count used to turn me against you and Bridgett, and that was what you used to bring me back to myself. You should have been an alienist Running Deer, that was masterful."

Running Deer smiled to herself. It took no special skills to see that Crowe's pride was her most powerful motivater.

"I shall need weapons of some sort, I doubt the Count will be impressed by this broken shovel."

Running Deer walked back to satchel and retrieved Crowe's revolvers and knives, she tossed them to the Englishwoman. "The Count had no need for these things and had a servant toss them over the wall. Fortunately I was able to retrieve them."

Crowe smiled and buckled on the gun belt. Seemingly for the first time she noticed the state of her arms and legs. She felt her face.

"I must look a fright. What could have done this to..." memories of nights with the Count came back to her. Hanging from a wooden X as her blood dripped into the waiting mouths of his thralls, the Count biting into her breasts, shoulders and neck and drinking deep. Herself moaning in pleasure and begging the count to drink more. She shuddered for a minute.

"I... I need to finish this. To kill that monster. Running Deer I need your help and Bridgett's. Where is she anyway?"

"She has gone to rescue the Spirit you captured while I rescued you."

"What? You sent her alone into the castle? Surely you jest!"

"Fire Hair has strong medicine, she will be safe."

"I fear you overestimate our young friend, and underestimate our foe. Let's go."

***

"Good evening Bridgett. So kind of you to return, though I usually prefer my guests to be announced at the gate."

Fear shot through Bridgett but the words to the spell of protection sprang from her lips as though she was reading them from her lost grimoire. Cold blue light surrounded her.

"Back creature! You cannot penetrate my wards!"

The Irish girl was somewhat surprised when the Count actually did take a step back.

"Quite a feat you have managed." The Count waved his hand in front of her a few times, his face showed discomfort when it came too close to her wards. "This protective spell is well-cast. Your talents are considerable indeed. Perhaps I chose the wrong woman to serve me. The blood of a magic user is always sweet."

He looked into her eyes. Bridgett swiftly looked away, she did not know if he could enchant her through the circle of warding but she did not want to find out the hard way.

"B-back! B-back! You cannot approach."

The Count took a few more steps back until he was against the iron door. He squirmed uncomfortably feeling the powerful magics the fairy still radiated through it. He was trapped between two sources of white magic with no where to go.

He almost smiled.

"Now what Miss O'Malley? How will you free the fairy? The corridor is too narrow for you to slip past me and I assure you there is no other way in."

Bridgett hesitated. She had planned to continue forward counting on the ward but she recalled vaguely that if the caster allowed a dark spirit to enter the circle the ward would be broken. And if she stepped forward and the Count had no where to retreat to, would he be able to enter? She was unsure. There was so much about magic she did not know. So much about life she did not know. She suddenly felt very young and very weak.

The Count began to speak again.

"Did you enjoy your night with Victor? He said you were quite enthusiastic like a wild cat locked too long in her cage. I felt most guilty interrupting you like that. I could give him to you, he would serve you well until you tired of him."

Bridgett opened her mouth to protest, to deny his words but a sudden shock between her legs caused her to moan. The Count's words had brought back all her memories of that night and her body had responded. She backed up a step.

"Of course Victor is only the beginning, he is quite young you know, in his first century. Someone of my experience could teach you pleasures few mortal women can dream of."

The blue light flickered.

***

The torch light flickered as Running Deer and Crowe entered the dungeons. They had no magical means to track Bridgett but counted on their instincts and keen senses to lead them to her. So far they had been fortunate and not encountered any resistance. But as the torches flickered and died they met their first obstacle.

"Good evening Miss Crowe, have you finished with the stables so soon?"

"Svetlana!" The tall woman blocked their way down. Her skin was bleached as white as ivory and her platinum blond hair was almost the same shade. Her long white dress with hanging sleeves made her seem like some sort of banshee out of an Irish ghost story.

As she often noted, Crowe had no patience for ghost stories. She drew her guns and emptied them into her former mistress before the woman could say another word.

Red spots appeared across the front of the vampiress' dress and Svetlana was knocked back several feet but she did not even stagger. Instead she smiled and cocked her head to the side.

"Oh Crowe, is that the best you can do? Perhaps you are good for nothing but the stables."

She took a breath and screamed.

Crowe and Running Deer feel to their knees in pain.

But as she fell Running Deer's strong fingers relaxed letting loose the talisman-tipped arrow on her bow.

Even in pain her keen eye and lean muscles guided the arrow unerringly to its mark, the vampire woman's heart.

"Oh crap." Svetlana said as the wooden shaft entered her ribs.

She exploded in a cloud of dust.

***

Bridgett blinked, concentrating again on the wards.

How could I let my concentration slip for a second!

Bridgett tried to remember the spell of purification but the words kept slipping away. She reached in her satchel for the revolver Running Deer gave her.

"Of course I have more to teach you than pleasure. Do not forget magic. You have learned much on your own but you are still a mere acolyte. In my library I have books and scrolls amassed over centuries. I have little use for such things but you could learn so much from them. And I could give you an immortal life to learn from them."

A vision formed in Bridgett's head of herself dressed in fine clothes, a powerful sorceress, desired by men, known across the world. She did not want it per se. She was a simple girl who longed for nothing more than a kind husband and warm home but... She could do it. Little Bridgett O'Malley could be the important one, the powerful one; she did not have to be the sidekick, the servant, the loyal companion. The thought refused to leave her mind. The revolver fell from her fingers.

"And what is the alternative? To travel with your mistress, raiding tombs and stealing treasures? Serving a woman who belittles your talents and your heritage? She still makes you do her laundry doesn't she?"

Bridgett nodded.

"She could be made to serve you."

That image lingered deliciously in her mind.

The blue light flickered again and died. Bridgett tried to find something to say but her mouth was suddenly dry. The Count walked up to her. He smiled. His smile was so big...

He wrapped his cloak around the trembling Irish girl, his teeth closed on her trembling flesh. But then...

"Good evening Count."

Lauren Crowe took careful aim and fired her twin revolvers twelve times into the dark shape drawing blood from the count but never hitting her friend. The vampire lord was hurled back against the iron door screaming in pain and shock. Next to Crowe Running Deer loosed two arrows at the vampire's heart. He blocked them with his arm but cried out again as the talismans on the arrowheads burned his corrupted flesh.

Bridgett slumped to the floor with glazed eyes.

"...immortal sorceress... who is the servant now m'lady... lick it... lick it!"

Crowe shot her a sneer of contempt. She could not imagine how the Irish girl allowed herself to be mesmerized like that. Lauren would never let something like that happen to her.

Her fingers were a blur of motion as she reloaded while Running Deer loosed another two shafts. One arrow was deflected from his heart but the other buried itself in his leg sending the Count to his knees. Another twelve shots made the Count roar with pain.

But as Crowe reloaded again the corridor was filled with mist. The mist cleared in seconds but when it did the vampire was gone.

Crowe muttered a word more suited for a sailor than a noblewoman and tended to her Irish friend.

"Get up Bridgett!" She slapped the girl. "This is no time to be sleeping on the job, you're needed."

After a few more slaps the Irish girl's eye's focused again. "M-m'lady? I mean mistress-"

"Please Bridgett, we have been friends for a long time. You should really call me Lauren." Crowe said firmly.

Bridgett wrapped her arms around Crowe and cried out in glee "Oh m'lady you are back!"

"Now, now Bridgett, calm yourself please. There is no reason to make a spectacle of yourself, even an Irishwoman should know that."

A frown crossed Bridgett's face. Yes, Crowe really was back to normal.

"Now I need you to defend the corridor while Running Deer and I free the specimen."

"Defend it how m'lady?"

"With your... skills. You know what I mean. I trust you to do it Bridgett."

Bridgett beamed with joy and turned to watch the entrance. The protective wards sprang up brighter than ever before.

Crowe put her hand on the iron door and pulled.

Green light filled the corridor engulfing the three women.

***

Arial sang. She sang of the Truth.

There are many names for the truth. Light and Dark. White and Black. Order and Chaos. Good and Evil.

All of them are wrong. There are only two things that matter Life and Death.

In their minds Bridgett, Running Deer and Lauren saw the birth of life on this world, the small spark of life, those first cells, growing, changing, spreading. They saw more sparks appear. The light was faint but it grew.

These sparks had many names spirits, animus, souls, none of them completely accurate.

Life is not just a series of chemical reactions in the material world. Life creates sparks of light in the psychic world, tiny sparks in the infinite darkness of the universe. They seem small and weak but they are growing. Where once the psychic world was black there are now countless spots of white.

There are entities that seek to return their world to darkness. They seek to choke off the infestation of light before it grows too bright. They too have many names demons, devils, vampires, monsters.

But life is not without its own champions. The sparks combine and grow and find ways to defend themselves. The three women see werewolves, fairies, angels and heroes appear. They see these bright souls fighting to protect the weaker ones, to protect them and to inspire them to grow stronger.

The three women look at each other and at themselves. They see their souls burning brightly but also see the shadows of the lives they have taken, the lives they have destroyed. They hug each other and weep.

There are those who know nothing of the Truth. They see humanity killing the natural world and killing each other with wanton abandon. They see the same humanity working to save lives through medicine, sanitation and simple charity. They see the champions of life torn between protecting humanity and destroying it.

They realize that no decision has yet been made, but one may come at any time. Much will depend on what choices humanity makes.

The song ends.

***

The journey out of the castle is uneventful. They encounter a few more of the Count's thralls but Bridgett's wards and banishments see them off. A few of his mortal servants also appear but Crowe takes a special pleasure in dispatching them with her revolver. Running Deer concerns herself with supporting the injured fairy in her arms.

When they reach the surface the winged woman turns to them. Simply touching the soil of the world seems to have revived her, she glows with energy and life. She spreads her wings and disappears into the sky. The echoes of her song ring in the women's hearts.

***

The next day they ride out of Transcarpathia. Their night was troubled by swarms of bats but Bridgett saw them off with some effort. More troubling were the visions of what they had seen.

"Think about m'lady, at the rate we are cutting down forests and polluting the air with coal fires the world could someday have an environmental collapse. Already the air in London is nigh unbreathable."

Running Deer nodded in ascent.

"And now we know that we risk retribution from spirits of life! Imagine what they could do if they decide humanity is too destructive!"

"Hmm? What who might do?"

"The spirits! The fairies, the werewolves, the elementals! They could-"

"Oh Bridgett, I thought we were past those fairy tales, you know I have no patience for that hogwash."

"But m'lady the vision the fairy showed us..."

"You mean the hallucinations we saw after breathing the insect's pollen? I gave that no more thought than your ridiculous story about the Count being a vampire. It is obvious to me we caught a rare insect but were drugged and betrayed by the Count. Fortunately I found the strength of will to save you and dispatch our captor. Too bad the insect escaped, it would have been quite a discovery."

"But..."

"I will hear no more of this Bridgett. We have a long journey home ahead of us and I have no desire to spend it listening to childish rubbish."

The three companions rode on in silence.

Epilogue

After his injuries it took the count several days to reform.

He cursed those women and cursed himself for underestimating them. And for underestimating the spirit he had captured. It would take weeks to find and destroy all the hateful plants that had sprung up in his dark castle.

He desired revenge but even his cruel mind could not conjure up something painful enough for Lauren Crowe and her companions.

Fortunately he had a friend whose skills in that area were unsurpassed.

He summoned Victor.

Take this letter to Castle Kafke, see that it is delivered to my old and dear friend the Wraith Lord.

As he watched the rider leave the Count laughed. If you thought he was cruel that's because you've never met the Wraith Lord.

Afterword

Lady Lauren Crowe, Running Deer and Bridgett O'Malley first appeared in a story I wrote a year ago called Global Protectors Vs The Wraithlord (available at http://www.superheroinecentral.com/~wizard/Stories_Main.htm ) which details some of their further adventures. I really liked the way these characters came out and have wanted to revisit them for a while.

Hope you all liked them too. As always, feedback is eagerly appreciated.

Marcus Lycus

Marcus_Lycus@hotmail.com