Note: This is my first post in the erotic horror category, but I feel it belongs here. Previous chapters can be found in the Sci-Fi & Fantasy category if new readers feel so inclined to check them out. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy!
'Why would she do that?' the question spiraled round Marenda's mind unrelentingly. The witch knew the answer, but refused to accept it. The big beautiful green bitch was dead by her hand and she hated herself for it. Should she have let the orc kill Austos? No, but... But, what? Marenda did her best not to scream into the undersized glass of wine she held.
The vampire sat in a filthy tavern, waiting for an opportunity to take her mind off dead Ghoen. The tavern was one of a handful in a small village sitting on a trade road that skirted along the edge of one of the planet's great swamps. As a result, the inn was humid and sticky; a light sheen covering almost everything and making it look like even the walls were sweating. Several large blood sucking insects had made it inside the building, but all kept clear of Marenda. Almost all animals had an innate instinct to steer clear of the undead. Not sentient animals though. No, they could not get enough of flirting with their own frail mortality. Fucking idiots. Fucking dead Ghoen.
Marenda raised her glass to take a dainty sip of the overly sweet liquid. She wanted to swig, however she had an illusion to maintain. A couple of tables over, a small number of men huddled around their beers muttering and occasionally casting furtive looks her way. In almost any other drinking establishment she could have expected one or more of them to come over and preposition her or call her over to sit on their lap. Not here though.
The witch had done enough research on this planet to know where 'here' was. A few days travel from here lay one of the huge 'free cities'; a place where one could go to flee war, prejudice or their own messes. Most people who journeyed to a free city therefore had nowhere else to go or anyone to care for their fate. 'Here' was a place where the criminal element could find easy victims. The men at the table looked at her not with lust, but with pity. They could keep it, Marenda would rather have their delicious acrid foamy beer.
Not that she could easily get drunk, despite her small size. And nor should she try; she had enough difficulty maintaining her inhibitions as was. It was practically her full time job. That was why she was here, she wanted to hurt someone; to let off some of her demonic steam into the face of someone who deserved it. Someone not like poor dead Ghoen.
It should not be difficult; she was a petite, young looking girl with long pale blonde hair. If she had brought a large flashing sign with the word 'bait' and an arrow pointing at her on it, she could still probably expect some predator to ignore their better judgement and still target her.
Besides the men with their tasty beer, the tavern was sparsely populated. In the corners, hooded figures wheezed business and banditry propositions at each other. With her enhanced hearing she could make out most of what they said, however none of it interested her. A lone patron slumped snoring at the bar, ignored by all.
The landlord who had taken Marenda's money for a room and meal, sporadically cast appraising looks at her as if she were just an object, leaving no doubt in her mind that he was in cahoots with the criminal element that frequented his dive. The single tavern wench instead shot the witch disgusted looks when she thought she was not looking. That just left the men with the beer, locals she guessed; cowed into silence, yet lured in by the low prices advertised outside the building. All in all she had no allies here, but she neither needed nor wanted any.
The vampire had tried that. On arriving on this backwater medieval mud-ball she had found a plot worth foiling. Good company in the form of Ghoen with her dourness and honesty. And a young man whose mind was as pure as spring water and just as cleansing to splash around in. It had all gone to hell of course, despite her best intentions. Marenda had fucked it up somehow and now she wanted to fuck someone else up in an attempt to forget about it.
Unfortunately patience was not a quality of the vampire's and with great annoyance she realized she had finished her third glass of wine. She was meant to be portraying a beleaguered, poor peasant girl, so splashing more coins on drink might raise suspicions, however she was already growing twitchy and having something in her hands and mouth helped her preserve her calm. She had been in the inn for over two hours now to the point where a more respectable pub might be taking last orders.
She tried flagging the maid, but was blatantly ignored, so the vampire got up and headed over to the bar, making a show of stumbling as if she were drunk, "I'd like another, please," she slurred at the landlord.
He leered down the opening in her traveller's robe, "House wine for the lady. Remember the price?"
"Sure I do," she gave him a cross eyed scowl, before reticently handing him a sum of coins.
He poured and handed her the alcohol, not even bothering to hide the contempt on his face at the stupid unsuspecting drunk girl in front of him. Marenda had to stop herself from ripping off his ear and feeding it to him just to see the surprise and horror on his face that the girl in front of him was in fact a monster. Yet she did not, she was playing a role and the role was her lifeline to her self-control, the role was everything.
She even enjoyed the acting. The vampire had inherited that from her human host who had been an enthusiastic stage actor with a possible future until another vampire had taken it from her and planted Marenda inside her however many hundreds of years ago. When a new vampire is made, the host's personality (or soul if you want to be poetical) is destroyed, however some memories linger on. In better and more sentimental moods, the witch might allow herself to think that she was somehow honouring the wishes of her shell by seeking out opportunities for role play and taking such relish in it.
Just across from her, the snoozing patron suddenly jerked awake to gaze at her with bleary eyes. Flashing a hint of panic, Marenda quickly looked away, grabbed her wine with both hands and scurried back to her table, making sure to knock a couple of chairs as she went. Just before she fell back into her chair, two tall hooded men entered the tavern, all purpose and surety. As she slumped down she scoped them with her peripheral vision, being too shy to look directly at them.
They headed straight for the proprietor and the witch had the distinct impression that they were trying not to look directly at her as she was to them. The background conversation lulled for only a moment at their arrival, were they important? From their clothes and the scent of quality soap on them, they were certainly wealthy. If she were to ignore their obvious high profile and the danger that would entail, were these the victims she was looking for? Marenda was so focused on them that she barely noticed that the drunk at the bar had followed her over.
He scraped the chair nearest her noisily across the stone floor before sitting upon it, "Hey. Bitch. You didn't introduce yourself. That's rude."
She was so annoyed at herself for missing his approach that she had plenty of time to swallow her initial response. As she stared at him with wide eyes, she took stock of him. He was not faking his inebriation, his clothes were well worn and suffused with his sweat. He had not washed in over a week and looked over a decade older than he actually was. Eyes bloodshot and full or hate and lust. She knew he was a rapist before he made his intentions clear.
"You know where you are, whore?" he growled, "This is where stupid little runaways like you disappear."
The vampire did her best to tremble and not to yawn when he reached under the table to squeeze her thigh. Rapists were rubbish: the majority being damaged individuals acting on carnal urges and an inflated sense of self-worth. There was not much sport in breaking someone already broken. Marenda was not very good at feeling empathy towards people she did not know personally, however she recognized the fact that this moron had the potential to leave his own victims in worse states than he himself was. Tearing him apart would not be as satisfying as she would like, but it would make the surrounding area marginally less shitty than it already was, so that was worth something.
"So listen good. No-one here will give a shit if you scream, but I've got a fucking headache, so you better keep your whore mouth shut, get it?" she nodded so he went on, "Now we're going to go for a little walk and you're going to do everything I tell you or I'll cut your throat open and-"
The drunk stopped dead when a hand landed on his shoulder and a rich smoky voice asked, "Is this man bothering you?"
This had to be a set up.
The witch looked up at her 'saviour', one of the three new men, hood now back revealing a clean shave, shoulder length dark blonde hair and deep amber eyes to match. To say he was handsome would be an understatement and Marenda had to reinforce her dumb look to stop an appraising eyebrow from rising.
