Boo 3 - Myth

This story timeline is intertwined with Ember's and Viktoria's. I don't want to give spoilers in case you haven't read those, but as a reminder in case you have, Myth starts the morning after the gallery show. Ember gifts Stryx, and Jael has just returned to the compound after Viktoria asks him a few questions.

I've rewritten Ember and added some scenes. People didn't think Stryx had atoned enough, so I added a chapter. I've not updated the version on the site since I anticipate removing it soon. Anyway, as you'll see, Stryx and Ember come back from that with a couple guests.

Most of this story is written, so I'm not anticipating long gaps between updates.

I have a non-con-ish story I've been working on. I'll upload the first chapter of the new one but if it rates in the twos like Caedmon's story did I'll remove it and assume that's not a genre I should be writing in, at least not here.

Nadya/Nadia has also been removed. I have no plans to repost it at this time.

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Eyes closed, Myth knelt at the feet of the Scorpion-Mage, wishing she could close her ears to the screams and cries of the witches being drained of their magic. Iqiohr had only required the magic of so many witches at once a couple times. He didn't like to drain all of them so thoroughly often. But when he did, what followed was always horrific.

Iqiohr's heavy hand settled on her head and idly played with tresses of her hair. She resisted the urge to shudder.

The noise abated as witches were dragged out one by one. Taking a deep breath, Myth opened her eyes. The cold, white marble throne room was empty except for ten of Iqiohr's men dressed in loincloths and one guard at the door. These men were the worst of them, vying for power and rank, willing to do anything. Myth hated the smug expressions on their faces, but took some satisfaction in knowing they wouldn't feel smug for long.

"Approach." Iqiohr's hand disappeared from her head.

The men formed a line and advanced towards the throne. The first climbed the steps, knelt, and held out his hand. As Iqiohr extended his hand, white glyphs lit up on the man's skin.

Myth kept her eyes open for this part. She didn't like watching the witches abused, but she didn't mind seeing the men suffer as Iqiohr absorbed their stolen magic. The men held an unspoken contest to see who could be silent as they endured the procedure. This close, though, they couldn't hide the fear and pain in their eyes. She relished it.

By the time Iqiohr was done, and each man had staggered away to collapse, he shone like a white sun on his throne. "Bring them in." The lone guard opened the door, allowing four more guards escorting two prisoners into the room. They marched their captives in front of the throne and kicked them to their knees.

"I sent you on a simple assignment. All you had to do was obtain the knife before it went to auction. You failed." Iqiohr rose and descended the steps to stand in front of the prisoners.

Two white scorpions lay in his upturned palms. He dropped them to the floor and held his hands out palm down. White magic flowed from him into the scorpions and they split. Two became four, four became eight, and they continued splitting until at least a hundred scorpions skittered across the smooth marble floor.

The Scorpion-Mage turned and met Myth's eyes. It was a test. She fought to keep her eyes on him, fought to keep adoration in them. He didn't like it when she didn't look at him like he was the only thing in her world.

There had been a time that was true, though not anymore. But nothing good happened when he felt jealous and had to get her attention rather than finding it already on him.

His dead, white-eyes held hers as he climbed the steps and returned to his throne and seated himself.

Myth wished she could close her ears again as the scorpions attacked the captives, each sting provoking an anguished scream as the men trashed and flailed.

Iqiohr only used mild venoms in this punishment. It wasn't about killing the men quickly, but more about seeing how many times they could be stung before they died. No matter how high the number went though, Iqiohr always seemed disappointed in the results.

When the men died the scorpions dissipated, the remaining magic flowing to the Scorpion-Mage. The guards dragged the corpses out of the room, leaving Myth alone with Iqiohr.

"You know what will happen if you fail me?" The Scorpion Mage's eyes were white and cold as he looked down from his throne at her.

Myth nodded. It was the only answer that would keep him in a good mood. He didn't like it when she disagreed with him or talked too much. If a simple 'yes' was the answer, a nod was the correct response.

He cupped her chin in his palm. "You are my favorite witch, Esne. Haven't I always treated you well?"

She had a better life than other witches, although she doubted it would be considered being treated 'well' anywhere else. But she nodded again.

"Tell me what you are going to do for me. I am trusting you with something very important. I want to make sure we don't have a misunderstanding. I don't like to have to punish you."

Myth didn't believe that and licked dry lips. "I'm to go to the auction in Ashana and bid on—"

The skin at the corners of the Mage's eyes tightened just the slightest bit, but she recognized her error and the start of his irritation.

"—win the bidding—"

His expression relaxed.

"—on the lot that includes the black knife and bring it to you."

"And what are you not to do?"

"I'm not to mention you or say why I want the knife to anyone. I'm not to say or write anything to anyone other than about the knife, and not more than absolutely necessary to get or keep the knife."

"Then?"

"I collect the knife after the auction and return to you as soon as possible."

He stroked her hair as if she was a well-behaved pet. "I worry someone will try to take advantage of you when you are away from me, so I will have someone watching you the whole time. It's for your protection. It doesn't mean I don't trust you. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"I don't know what I would do without you, my Esne."

She made sure he saw no signs of the tears she wanted to cry when she forced herself to smile up at him. This was another cruel game of his, offering her freedom in a place where safety was guaranteed, all the while knowing she would return to him.

"Good girl." He stroked her hair again, adding a pat to her head this time.

She kept her smile in place.

"On your feet, Esne."

Myth took the hand he removed from her head and offered to her, relieved he was finished with her for now. Flowing with the graceful movements he liked, she rose from her knees to her feet. Letting her up meant he was moving on to other things. She turned to go.

"I think you're going to do very well tomorrow, Esne. I'm so sure, I'm going to give you some of your reward now."

Her heart leapt and she gave him a genuine smile. He was in a generous mood, and she was happy to take advantage of any chance at the reward he controlled so carefully. "Where is—"

She closed her mouth when he didn't release her hand. Instead, he rose tugging her with him. As she stepped towards him, the opposite way of where she wanted to go, into his bedroom. Her heart sank. Not because of what was coming next, but because of what might result.

Myth didn't struggle when he bent her forward over his bed. She turned her head as he pushed her dress up over her back, thankful at least this way she didn't have to watch him. She tried to remember the black-haired boy who used to smile and give her presents when they were children. The young man who lost his smile but still tried to show her kindness. The man who died the day he killed his master, lost his humanity and all his color, becoming the white-eyed, white-haired Scorpion Mage.

She didn't flinch as he used two fingers to apply the gel that made him feel good and her numb. And she didn't feel anything, even when her body jostled as he braced his hands on either side of her.

At least, physically. She wished she could make her mind as numb as her body. Some of the other witches could do that, go somewhere else, be apart from their bodies. But they were also treated much worse. Their bodies bore scars and bruises from the way the Scorpion-Mage let the other men treat them.

She, however, belonged to Iqiohr, the Scorpion-Mage. Her skin was flawless and never marked. She was bathed, oiled, massaged and shaved every day so her skin was smooth when he touched her. Her hair was always brushed until it shone, and arranged in elaborate styles. The clothes he allowed her were made of soft fabrics that matched his.

She had her own room, a place he put her away and locked her up like a toy in a chest when he didn't want to play with his doll anymore.

He kept her isolated. The woman who tended her hair, skin, makeup and dressed her was mute and only allowed a set amount of time for her tasks. Myth had known her for years, but didn't even know her name.

Iqiohr's army of men weren't allowed to touch her for any reason, the penalty being to lose whatever part of them that made the transgression, be it a fingertip or the skin off their back. He made her watch each time, in case she ever thought to touch one of them.

If she displeased him, Iqiohr had ways of punishing her that were much worse than any beating he could give her.

The other witches hated her for the ease of her life. They didn't encounter each other often, but when they did, none of them wanted anything to do with her, and there was resentment in their eyes when they saw her beside Iqiohr. She didn't sit next to him though, she knelt at his feet, but the other witches didn't see the difference. Myth didn't blame them. They only knew what they saw, not that her mind was tortured as much as their bodies.

Given an option, Myth would have chosen scars she could see. They might be considered ugly and come from pain, but each one could be a souvenir. And maybe, if she could touch and trace something tangible on her skin, it would be a reminder of each time her mind had escaped this place and been free, even if her body couldn't follow.

She imagined all manner of plans to escape, but this was Aztlan. If she managed to get away from Iqiohr, and past all the magic that infused the island, there was still a lake full of monsters happy to drown and crush the bones of anyone who ventured into those waters.

"I feel strong today. There is much magic left in me." Iqiohr panted as he neared finishing. "You are the vessel, my Esne. A son. Give me a son."

Myth closed her eyes to hide the tears threatening to well. Dread settled into her bones. This was the thing she feared most. Mages were rarely able to father children, but with all the magic he held, Iqiohr might be able to today.

For four years he'd used their daughter to control her, hiding Fable away and doling out seeing her as a reward when Myth behaved. Punishing the little girl when Myth didn't. As bad as that was, she was terrified of what he could do to a son.

<><><><><>

NORRIX

"What the fuck is that?" Alaric shouted. "Is that dog with a hand on its tail?"

"We found him on the mage's island." Ember took Stryx's hand and climbed from the boat while Karov helped a second woman to the stairs. "We couldn't leave him there by himself. It looks like the mage was experimenting on him, using Mage magic to force him to protect the island he was imprisoned on."

Norrix dropped the rope he'd been tying off and spun, regretting it as he caught sight of the creature. He staggered, bracing one hand on the side of the cave as over ten thousand years of memories assailed his mind all out of order and appearing simultaneously. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, trying to focus on the beginning.

Ever since Nabu, the God of Scribes, had broken his mind eight thousand years ago his memory wasn't what it used to be. Taken off guard, an unusual occurrence could trigger a cascade that left him stunned for hours.

The beginning... he had to find the beginning. It was the only way to put things in order and control what he saw. He snatched at fragments of recollection as they roiled through him.

A man with a long, curly beard wearing a horned cap, clay tablet and stylus in his hands, waiting to write down what Norrix told him. But he'd not been called Norrix then. He was... no, that way was madness. And this man was Nabu. Not the beginning.

A woman held Norrix in her arms, the first touch he'd felt in...he couldn't remember and it was dangerous to try. A man with blue eyes and fangs knelt in front of them, offering death—a beginning, but not the one he needed.

A boy, angry at his mother, stormed towards a river, craving a chance to see a world bigger than the temple complex they lived in. Closer.

Himself, as a younger boy, staring up at a woman with two-toned eyes and hair. She was telling him it wasn't time for him to see this yet and not to worry as she turned to face a yawning, hungry black abyss swallowing a world—there, the end that was his start. Memories whirled as they settled into place, at least for the moment. He sorted through them seeking what he knew he'd seen before.

Norrix opened his eyes and straightened, walking down a few steps to crouch in front of the creature. "He's an ahuizotl. That's how he's supposed to look. More common to the south, in Aztlan. They like warm ponds and lakes, not cold oceans. We have some underground springs he might like to play in until we can find a better place for him."

The ahuizotl wasn't actually a dog. He was the size of a wolf, and four-legged, but his front paws had raccoon hands, and his tail ended in a human hand. Instead of fur, he had the rubbery hide of a dolphin. Scars on its sides showed his stay on the Mage's island hadn't been a pleasant one.

They were known to drown their victims, leaving the corpses with crushed bones, and no eyes, teeth, or nails. Preferring fresh water lakes to salt water oceans, being trapped on an island in the ocean would have been another kind of torture.

The ahuizotl leapt up, placing his raccoon paws on Alaric's shoulder. He licked the vampire's face. Alaric pushed him down and backed away. "Gross. He's all yours."

Ember led Stryx away, following Karov and the strange woman, Alaric hurrying after them.

"Come with me. I'll show you around." Norrix led the way up the stairs but turned into the labyrinth of tunnels rather than continuing to the main compound. "There's not a lot down here."

The ahuizotl padded alongside him, ears swiveling around, eyes alert, nose twitching.

The tunnels twisted and turned, light fading as they left the larger, more traveled corridors. Vampire vision allowed Norrix to see in the dark. The ahuizotl pressed against Norrix's legs, biting his boots if Norrix moved too fast or tried to step away.

They'd all lived long enough to know the value of a Plan B. These tunnels riddled the cliff their compound sat atop, leading to other buildings on the property, armories, stashes of clothes, food and freshwater sources. Vampires didn't require food or water to live, but Selene, Ciaran and now Ember and Musette required them if their haven was ever invaded.

The dungeons, such as they were, were down here. As they passed the way in, the ahuizotl, content to explore and take in the new areas until here, stopped. He lowered his head, a growl rumbling from his chest.

Norrix had seen the intelligence in these creatures before. It was easy to think of them as simple and dog-like, but they formed complicated family bonds, understood when spoken to, and made decisions.

Keeping his voice low and conversational, Norrix said, "I know the Mage hurt you, kept you prisoner and separated from your family."

The ahuizotl's snarls changed pitch, deepening. He threw himself at the dungeon entrance but bounced back, thwarted by Selene's magic. He threw himself forwards again, rebounding. He righted himself, paced to the ward slowly and reared back. Raccoon hands against the barrier, he turned his head towards Norrix.

"Here's the thing. We need information from him. He knows who hurt a woman, someone in our family too. There's a vampire with a pair of swords that can hurt him, get information from him. I can promise you he won't enjoy his time here."

The growling's intensity backed down.

"Do you have a family? A pack we can take you home to? I know revenge is a strong temptation. But if you let us keep the Mage, I'll get you home."

The ahuizotl whined, staring into the tunnel, then pushed away. He landed on all fours and attacked Norrix's boots.

"I understand." Norrix laughed. "You'll tear me to pieces if I don't get you home."

With a chuff the ahuizotl relented. Norrix turned to lead the way to one of the larger springs.

"Well, that completes the tour of our underground caverns." Norrix crouched in front of his companion. "You have the run of the place, although there aren't any people to drown. Can you live with that?"

The ahuizotl cocked his head and Norrix rubbed his ears.

Norrix's phone chirped, causing the ahuizotl to cock his head further, to an almost upside down angle, Norrix laughed and read the text message. "Well, it looks like your rescuers are done playing in the sun and the boss wants me." He waved an arm at the freshwater spring. "The pool is open."

The ahuizotl gave a yip and wagged his tail, the human hand on the end of it seeming to wave goodbye. He jumped into the water with a splash and sank below the surface.

<><><><><>

Norrix knocked on the open door to Stryx's office as he entered, and laughed. "Wow, if that's what she does to you when she's happy, you better never piss her off again."

Stryx's upper body was covered in bite and scratch marks. Norrix thanked all the gods Stryx had pants on and he didn't have to see the rest. "And you're looking very tan."

"Ember dragged him into the sun."

Norrix jumped, having missed seeing Jael leaning against the wall by the door. Although he should have been expecting him—Jael had sent the summons to come here. "You stood in the sun?"

"I don't think there was much standing," Jael said.

"You're about to find out for yourself." Stryx smirked as he shrugged a shirt on over his arms but didn't button it up.

"Wait, hold on a second." Norrix held up his hands. "I haven't stood in the sun for eight thousand years. Last time I saw a sunrise or sunset, Albion wasn't an island."

"Well, get ready to see something new, Witness."

Witness.

Stryx calling him by that old name gave him a chill deep in his bones. It sounded less like a title and more like a portent.

Ember came in, phone held to her ear, the microphone covered with a hand. She tilted her head at Stryx.

"Jael, tell him what the Mage said. I'll be right back." Stryx didn't look at either of them as he joined Ember, eyes only for her.

"There's an auction in Ashana on the twelfth, during the day." Jael said.

Norrix turned one of the office chairs around and sat facing Jael. The assassin wasn't going to kill him, but he was always armed with two swords, and Norrix preferred to keep them in sight. While he trusted Jael implicitly, his trust did not extend to the blades, which seemed to have a mind of their own. "I'm going to guess since Stryx can bear the sun he wants to attend rather than sending Ciaran. You're going to have your hands full trying to keep track of him now. Not only can Ember disappear with him whenever she wants, he can stand in sunlight."

Jael snorted and let his head thump against the wall as he closed his eyes. "As if I need more witches doing whatever they want."

Norrix arched an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. It wasn't like the stoic assassin to seem out of sorts. "More witches? Something you want to share with the class?"