Story (c) 2000 by Hikaru Katayamma/Keith Dickinson. All rights reserved. The character Sheila Vixen (c) Eric W Schwartz. Throckmorton P Ruddygore, Poqua, Lakash (c) Jack L Chalker. All other characters are (c) Hikaru Katayamma.  This story contains adult situations and language. By reading it the viewer agrees not to hold this or any other person responsible for any content they may find objectionable. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Specs groaned as he woke up, shifting uncomfortably on the cold, hard dirt. On the horizon, the first glimmer of dawn had begun to illuminate the night's sky. Shivering, he sat up, again groaning while holding his head. "Oh man. I hope someone got the license number off that truck."

"It weren't no truck, kid," Hecate answered casually. She sat on the ground not far from the outer edge of the summoning circle, leaning on a rock. "That should teach you to be careful what you ask for. You might actually get it."

The young man hastily rearranged his glasses so that he could see properly and looked over at the demonic figure, which was chewing on one of his snack bars. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, rolling to his knees. A small rock on the ground cased him to cry out as he rolled over onto it, forcing the sharp object into the unprotected skin of his knee. Looking down, Specs realized that he was buck-naked. In a panic, he bean to search for his clothes.

"Relax, kid," Hecate said as she finished off the granola bar. "I got your stuff right here." She picked up a pile of clothes that had been covered by one wing and tossed them to the embarrassed young man. He hastily pulled out his boxer shorts to put them on, but paused when he saw their condition. They were shredded. "Sorry about that," Hecate said as she licked her fingers. "I was in a bit of a hurry."

Staring at the shredded shorts, the events from the previous night flooded into his head, reminding him of what happened. He had thought she was going to kill him when she tackled him, but instead she proceeded to strip him down, and in the process shred most of his clothes. He shuddered at the memory of what followed. The last thing he remembered was her sinking her fangs into his neck as he climaxed while she raped him. With a shaky hand he reached up to his neck and felt the still fresh wounds.

"Don't worry about those," Hecate said as she opened his book and began to flip through it. "They'll heal up pretty soon."

"What did you do to me?" he asked in a horse voice.

She paused and looked up at him. "Why, I just did what you asked for. You said you wanted to fuck me, didn't you?"

He blinked and shook his head. "That's not what I'm talking about. Why did you bite me?"

"Oh, that," she replied, dismissing his concerns. "I had a run-in with a mage on the other side, and to be honest, it took a lot out of me. Since the human spirit is at the peak of its power when you climax, I figured it wouldn't hurt if I siphoned off a little while you were at your peak"

"Y-you fed off of me?" Specks asked incredulously.

"Kind of," Hecate replied, standing. "It's like this," she said as she tossed the book down in front of him. "You've got the talent, kid. Some day, you're going to be one hell of a mage. The trick is getting trained." She squatted down in front of the boy and smiled again. "That's why I tagged you. You were all kinds of tasty fun last night. It's not often I get to mark a new apprentice, much less break in a virgin at that. You were delicious."

"Ap-pp-pprentice?" he stuttered, trying to make sense of what was happening.

"Yep. I had every intention of killing you last night for having the audacity to proposition me like that," she said, settling down on the dirt and crossing her legs. "Once I got a taste of you, though," she said, waving to the bite marks on his arms and chest, "I knew you were a virgin and had the potential to be a mage. That's when I decided that I had better plans for you."

"Look," Specs said, shaking his head. "I don't know anything about you, lady, and frankly, I don't want to. Most of all, I don't want to be your apprentice."

Hecate chuckled. "You don't have a choice, my boy. Now that you've tasted my bite, you're going to find your life will get far more interesting. And if you plan on surviving the experience, you're going to need me to teach you how."

"Jesus Christ, lady! What the fuck did you do to me? Turn me into a vampire or something?" Specks discarded the shredded shorts and began to struggle into his pants.

"Vampire?" Hecate asked, laughing in disbelief. "I'm no vampire and neither are you. Nor will you be."

Specks stood and picked up the rest of his possessions. "You're nuts, lady. You're fucking nuts. Just keep away from me. I'll manage on my own." He turned and hurriedly headed for a small cluster of vehicles parked at the edge of the plateau.

Hecate sat where she was and smiled at the retreating form. "Six weeks," she said to herself. "I give him six weeks, and then he'll be ready." She stood and stretched her arms and wings to their max, soaking up a little of the sun's first light. "Time to get to work. I'll take care of that mutt for Ruddygore, then come back for my new apprentice."

Heedless of the rough terrain, a rather beat up looking tan-colored VW Rabbit tore down the dirt trail that lead up to the mesa, bouncing precariously close to the edge at times. Behind it sat an open expanse empty of life, with nothing more than two empty cars to testify that anything had occurred there.

= = = =

Sheila sat at her usual table, nursing a mug of ale and waiting. It was a difficult thing to do, just sitting there, acting as if nothing was happening. It seemed like an eternity before she saw Ross go upstairs to make his nightly report with asshole central. She got another refill of her drink and waited for him to return. Once he was back with his buddies, Sheila forced herself to wait for a bit before going upstairs.

Reaching Ross's room, she paused and opened the door. A glance down at the end of the bar showed no unusual activity, so he may not have setup a trip wire spell. She snuck into the room and spotted his backpack that sat on the floor in the far corner. Drawing the Katana from its scabbard, she pointed the tip towards where she knew the mirror resided inside. With a quick, savage thrust, she drove the tip of the sword into the pack, striking the mirror. A small bolt of electricity shot up the blade of the sword, but dissipated as it hit the guard. She pulled the blade back an inch and was rewarded with the sound of broken glass shifting within. Again she struck the mirror, breaking it further, repeating the process until she was sure there wasn't any hope of using even a small shard.

Stepping out of the room, Sheila closed the door quietly behind her. Another quick glace down at the bar showed the usual cluster of locals chattering about whatever men chatter about. Sheila let out a small sigh of relief and headed to her room. She prepared for bed as she did every other night and climbed in to wait. Once she was sure Ross was asleep, she would make good her plan to escape.

= = = =

Kalla stopped her horse on a rise that looked out over the plains. Though thoroughly soaked, she appeared not to notice the pouring rain, almost as if it was beneath her to do so. She gazed out to the distant, dark horizon where she knew Ross and her target should be. If she didn't stop now, she could make the town by early morning. As much as she wanted to make camp and rest, her duty was to locate the target and ensure that it didn't escape. Until she could get a close look at the creature and get a taste of its spoor, there was still risk of it getting away.

With a grimace she urged her horse forward, into the gloom.

= = = =

Ross woke up with a start. There had been a creak out in the hallway. He listened closely, but heard no further movement. A simple gesture was enough to light the candle by his bed. He poured some water form a pitcher into a bowl setting next to it on the table. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly as he centered himself. Oddly enough, the ripples in the water faded to nothing as his breath ended. He opened his eyes and cast a spell of scrying. A vision of Sheila's room appeared in the water, showing an empty bed. Another gesture of his hand sent the image flying through the door and down the hallway in the hotel. Reaching the end he sent it down the stairs where he saw one of the houseboys bringing in wood for the fire as part of his morning chores.

Tossing the bowl back onto the table. Ross hurriedly wrapped the bandages that gave him the illusion of having legs and permitted him to walk rather than floating everywhere. He opened the flap on his backpack and removed the padding that was used to protect his mirror. To his horror, he heard the shattered remnants as they clattered noisily within. He stared at the ruined remains of his most prized and important possession before discarding it angrily to the side. Snatching the pack up, he opened the shutters that covered the window and leapt out. A few feet from the ground he suddenly slowed, settling gently down onto the mud.

Ross ran towards the stables. He gave a curse as he saw that the doors were open and the lights were on. He skidded around the corner and into the building where he saw the smith preparing Sheila's horse.

"Where is she?" Ross demanded

"Where is who?" the man replied, feigning ignorance.

The mage gestured with a hand, sending the large blacksmith flying into the air and pinning him against the wall. "The bitch that owns this horse! Where is she?" he again demanded.

"This isn't her horse," the smith replied as he gasped for breath.

Ross gestured again, slamming the man against the wall again. "Bull shit! I bought that horse for her! Now where is she?"

The smith shook his head. "She sold it to me, yesterday."

Again the big man was slammed against the wall. "The hell she did. I watched you two. She checked up on her horse than left."

"No. You're mistaken," the smith said groggily. "She stopped at the door and came back. Said she changed her mind and wanted to sell it."

Ross paused. Damn it. I broke off my scry too soon. That bastard could be telling the truth! "Then why are you saddling up the mount?"

The smith winced as he gasped for breath. "There's a courier who's heading out for Tasquahana in a little bit. He needs a fresh and rested mount. The spare one we keep for them is lame so I'm giving him this one instead."

Ross released the spell, dropping the man to the ground. "Get my horse ready to leave immediately," he ordered the large man. Damn it! She may have snuck out of town, but she won't get far on foot.

The smith picked himself up and stumbled past the mage, staggering into the workbench that was behind Ross. With a sudden motion, he grabbed a large piece of metal that was part of a wagon hitch-frame and brought it down on the back of the mages head, dropping him like a sack of flower. Breathing hard, the man raised the metal bar again to finish his work, hesitated, then tossed it aside. He rushed back to his private quarters and threw open the trunk at the end of his bed. Dumping the contents haphazardly on the bed, he reached the bottom where he opened a secret compartment. Inside was a length of silver cord about three feet long.

Returning to the unconscious mage, the smith used the length of rope to tie his hands behind his back, ensuring that there was no way the man could reach the knot with his fingers. He then lifted the mage and tossed him over the saddle of Sheila's horse. With reins in hand, he led the horse towards the entrance, pausing only long enough to grab a length of heavy rope that was hanging on the wall.

Outside, the rain had let up some and was now a light drizzle. He led the horse at a trot for the outskirts of town. After a short run, he came to a gnarled and twisted tree. The horse shied away from the tree nervously, trying to pull the reins from his grasp. Talking to the horse, he calmed it down and finally tethered it a short distance away.

Taking the length of rope, he rapidly began to fashion a noose on one end. Despite being wet, the knot slid easily along the rope. It was crude as such things went, but then again, he wasn't making it for show. A quick heave sent the loop over the outstretched limb and dangled down a bit. He let out enough rope so it would be about waste high for a man on horseback. The smith then secured the other end to the trunk itself.

Roughly handling the mage, he yanked him off the horse then heaved him back up on it upright. The cool rain, combined with the rough handling was beginning to bring the mage around. The smith led the horse over to the noose and slipped it over the awakening mages head, securing it to his neck.

"Wh-what's going on?" Ross asked, not quite aware of the situation. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded as he began to struggle with his bindings.

"It'll do no good for you to struggle, mage," the smith said in a harsh, cold voice. "You're bound with witchsilver cord, so don't go bothering yourself by trying to cast any spells as they'll only backfire on ya'"

"What's all this about?" Ross asked, now aware of the rope around his neck. "Why are you doing this? Certainly it isn't for that bitch!"

The smith shook his head. "No, it's not for her. Look at the tree, mage," he said, pointing to the twisted trunk. "Look closely." A flash of lightening illuminated the scene showing the distorted image of a screaming girl imbedded into its surface. "That was my daughter."

"What's that got to do with me?" Ross asked, staring at the sight.

"When the Zombie King's army occupied these lands, one of your ilk, a painted mage, tried to take advantage of my daughter. When she refused him, he decided to make an example of her so that nobody in the town would think of opposing him in the future." The smith snarled as he looked up at the mage. "Now I'm going to hang you from that same tree as a warning to your kind never to do something like this again."

Before Ross could respond, the smith slapped the horse on its flank, sending the beast running. The mage was jerked from the saddle by the rope and began to flail about. The smith watched the spectacle for a minute as Ross's body continued to twitch. Only when all movement had ceased did he turn and walk back to town.

A brief flash of lightning illuminated the form of a woman sitting on a horse in the distance, observing the event as it unfolded. Once the smith had left, she rode down to where the mage slowly swung beneath the tree and stared at it for a bit.

"I always warned your father you were a screw up," Kalla said to the limp, dangling form. "But I never expected you to be so stupid as to get hung by some dip shit smith in the middle of nowhere."

Ross opened his eyes. "Whatever. Just cut me down so I can get back on that bitch's trail. I've got a score to settle with her." His body floated upwards slightly, allowing the rope to go slack.

"Do you have a physical sample for me?" Kalla asked, edging her horse closer.

"Of course I do!" Ross replied, angrily. "It's in my pack. Soon as I deal with that smith, I'll get the sample."

"I don't think so," Kalla replied, indulging herself in the look of shock and confusion on Ross's face.

"What the hell do you mean, you don't think so?" he demanded, squirming in his bonds again.

"You're a screw up, Ross. They should never have let you out of the academy," she explained. "If it hadn't been for daddy, you would have been nothing more than a practice sacrifice, and I think it's time that someone put this charade to an end."

"No! Wai---" Ross's cry ended in a strangled gurgle as Kalla drove the tip of her spirit lance through his heart. A look of astonished disbelief flittered over Ross's face before he died. His body, no longer supported by the spell that was woven into the bandages where his legs should be, dragged the limb of the tree significantly lower than during his apparent hanging.

Kalla sat on her horse and watched the body for a few moments, a small smile of satisfaction on her face. She wiped off the tip of the spear on Ross's shirt before turning her horse towards town. She needed to recover the physical sample from his belongings so that the hunt could begin.

Her mood significantly lightened, she smiled at the thought of letting the smith live, just to piss daddy off.