Chapter 10 Raven

Raven stirred, her head heavy and clouded, as though she'd been wading through a thick fog. She felt an unfamiliar sensation; the soft, slick feel of cool satin sheets beneath her bare skin. She blinked groggy. Gradually her surroundings came into focus: she was in a large, lavish room laying upon a thick feather mattress bed; heavy velvet curtains half open on a wide bay window let the haze of late morning light steam in, and a plush armchair was tucked into the corner. Something about the lavish surroundings stirred some deep visceral memory in her, but she couldn't place it, like vertigo rushing up to meet her, but she shook the sensation off and pushed herself up off the pillow, pushing a wave of midnight black hair back from her face.

She frowned, confusion rippling through her as she sat up slightly, her body protesting the effort. Where in the seven hells was she?

Movement by the dresser caught her eye. With what felt like monumental effort, she turned her head and saw Vanity, naked but for a studded leather corset she was in the process of tying round her midriff. The garment clung to her torso like a second skin, emphasizing the slender but toned muscles of her upper body. Matching fingerless gloves and suspenders hung over a polished wooden chair nearby, and a short black skirt of frills and lace was slung over the edge of the dresser. Weapons; her heavy double barrel pistol, polished to a gleaming finish; her silvered sword in a freshly oiled leather scabbard; a brace of small concealable throwing knives; and what looked like a solid silver dildo, were laid out in meticulous order across the wide surface, the faint glint of steel catching the low light.

Vanity adjusted the straps of the corset, her movements precise and efficient, but there was something in the set of her shoulders that caught Raven's attention. Guilt.

"Where... where are we?" Raven croaked, her voice raspy and raw.

Vanity stiffened at the sound, her hands pausing mid-buckle. She turned, her violet eyes flicking to Raven, and for a moment, her usual swagger was nowhere to be found.

"You're awake," Vanity said, a soft smile playing across her perfect lips for just a moment as she crossed the room quickly and sat on the edge of the bed. She reached for a glass of water on the nightstand and handed it to Raven. "Here. Drink this."

Raven took the glass with trembling hands, sipping slowly. The cool water was a welcome relief, but her throat still felt raw. She set the glass down, meeting Vanity's gaze.

"What happened?"

Vanity ran a hand through her tousled red hair, exhaling sharply.

"I... fucked up," she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I don't know what the hell happened back there. One minute I was..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I lost control. Hurt you. Drained you, somehow...." She looked down at her thighs, spread as she kneeled on the bed, her pussy still glistening, and subconsciously closed her legs.

Raven frowned, the memory of their encounter flickering in her mind like a dim lantern. She remembered Vanity's touch, the overwhelming intensity of it, and the strange, intoxicating pull of her energy.

"It's okay, Van. I'm fine," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Vanity's jaw tightened.

"No, it's not okay, Raven. You're not okay. I can see it in your face. You look like you've been through hell. Shit, I don't know what the fuck happened to me... maybe the Carnavite's blood did something, I dunno but Mother Night, I could've fuckin' killed you..."

"I've felt worse," Raven said, managing a faint smirk. "But I'll admit, this isn't exactly my best morning."

Vanity sighed, rising from the bed and pacing toward the dresser.

"I shouldn't have let it get that far. I should've stopped myself. Instead, I fuckin' lost myself in you, lost all control, just couldn't stop fucking and..." She slammed a throwing knife into its sheath, the sharp sound echoing through the room. "Fuck."

Raven watched her carefully, the weight of Vanity's guilt pressing down on the room like a storm cloud.

"You're not a monster, Vanity," she said quietly. Vanity turned, her eyes narrowing.

"Ain't I? Because that's exactly what it fuckin' felt like. Like some part o' me I can't control took me over and decided it didn't care if it left you like a fuckin' husk. Like I was nothin' but some sorta fuckin' Succubus."

"Succubus?" Raven exhaled. "I don't see any horns or a tail, Vanity. You're not a demon. You're... special." Raven's voice quieted. "I told you. That's how I found you. And for what its worth, I'd do it again. I've never cum like that before." She cleared her throat. "Besides, it helped you didn't it?"

Vanity bit her lip and looked away. Ravens eyes scanned over her body; the tight, slender torso wrapped in the freshly oiled and expensively tanned corset, pushing her tits together in a delicious valley of cleavage; her bare ass, so round, toned, perfect, her long slender legs... Raven felt herself getting wet. The air between them felt thick, heavy with raw fucking sexual need and unspoken fears.

"So... where are we?" she asked, changing the subject.

"The Blackwood Hotel," Vanity replied, reaching for her skirt, her voice flat. "Zach Blackwood set us up here. Thought you could use some real rest after... everything."

Raven frowned.

"Blackwood? The Iron Horse guy?"

"The very fuckin' same," Vanity pulled her skirt up and tied it at the waist; it barely covered her ass, but gave her quick and easy access to the holsters she began to strap to her perfect thighs. "I had a meeting o' sorts with him earlier. He's got a job for me."

Raven tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her tired eyes.

"What kind of job?"

Vanity hesitated, her fingers tightening on the strap she was fastening.

"Border Crossing. Into Carnivale."

"Carnivale?" Raven exclaimed, shock in her wavering tone. "But... I mean, I've heard stories. That's vampire territory, isn't it?"

Vanity nodded, her expression dark.

"Sure as the sun rises red. Blackwood's men were sent there, apparently not too far over the border, to bring back somethin' important. They never came back."

Raven sat up straighter, despite the lingering weakness in her body.

"And he wants you to go after it?"

Vanity loaded two silver-powder flat head rounds into her pistol and cocked it shut with a slam.

"He wants me to track down the pages of some fucking magickal book his great-granddaddy stole from a vampire lord name o' Kress. Says it's what keeps Blackwood Creek safe. But the pages are missing, and he's convinced they're the key to keeping this place standing."

Raven stared at her, a chill running down her spine.

"And you're seriously considering this?"

Vanity shrugged, holstering the pistol and sliding the knives into their discreet thigh holsters.

"I don't exactly have a choice. Blackwood's got enough pull this whole fuckin' side o' the Whispering Eye to make things a real imperial pain in my ass if I say no. Besides..." She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the sword on the dresser. "That and the money aside, this town is fucked all sideways if those pages don't get into his hands. I couldn't give a rat's raggedy ass for Blackwood or his like, but there's a whole lotta decent, strugglin' folks in this town are gonna suffer badly for it if I dont bring those thrice-damned pages back."

"But Blackwood, if he can hire anyone, he could just send an army across the border?"

"Sure. An army strapped up for war and they'd wind up nothin' but an all-you-can-eat buffet for the Vampire Lords; or worse. Ordinary men, no matter how well trained and geared up they happen to be, can't do what I do. They haven't been trained like I was. I need to do this." Raven opened her mouth to protest, but Vanity cut her off with a sharp look. "And don't even think about it, Raven. You're staying here," she said firmly. "Resting. You're in no shape to come with me, and I don't need anyone else getting hurt because of me."

Raven's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. Instead, she watched as Vanity grabbed her coat, threw it over her shoulders, and headed for the door.

"I'll be back," Vanity said over her shoulder, her voice quieter now. "Just stay safe, alright?"

Raven didn't reply, the door clicking shut behind Vanity before she could think of what to say. She shifted on the edge of the bed, the satin sheets slipping off her hips and pooling around her thighs, exposing her bare body to the soft, golden light spilling through the room. Her skin, damp with sweat, glowed faintly, the warm honeyed tone of her lithe, soft body returning after her ordeal. Her breasts, full and round, swayed slightly as she adjusted her posture, her dark nipples standing stiff and proud against the smooth curve of her chest.

Her stomach rose and fell with her breaths, the muscles faintly taut beneath the sheen of her flushed skin. Below, her thighs parted slightly, revealing the glistening folds of her cunt, the flesh swollen and tender. A faint stickiness clung between her legs, a mix of sweat and the residue of her earlier exhaustion.

With a sigh of effort, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cool wooden floor as she stood. Her thighs pressed together briefly, slick warmth shifting between them before she began to walk. Each step sent a faint tremble through her legs, her ass swaying naturally, the firm roundness shifting with her movements.

The commode stood in the corner; a modern, lavish amenity. Most places had bedpans if you were lucky, or nothing but an outhouse if you were less so. This was made of brass and porcelain, with a pipe leading out of the room and a chain pull flush. Again, that note of extravagance, of opulence, tugged at something in her memory, but she shook it away. She was poor little Raven Darcie from poverty-stricken Buttfuck Dustbowl nowhere. She'd never even seen a commode like this before.

She lowered herself onto the seat, her thighs spreading wide as she relaxed into position. Her cunt parted slightly as her body loosened, and the first drops fell. The sound was soft, almost hesitant, before the stream grew steadier, pouring from her with a warm rush. The sound of her pissing filled the quiet room, echoing faintly against the porcelain. Her thighs quivered slightly, her bare ass pressing against the seat as she adjusted her position. Her lips glistened, the flow tapering off to small, delicate drips. Her thighs quivered faintly as she adjusted herself, leaning forward slightly to empty herself completely. A final trickle escaped, the last few drops clinging to her folds before she reached for the cloth beside her.

Spreading her legs wider, she brought the cloth between them, dragging it slowly over the slick, swollen flesh of her pussy. The roughness of the fabric grazed her sensitive skin, sending a faint shiver up her spine. She dabbed thoroughly, wiping the dampness away, her fingers grazing the soft, smooth lips as she worked.

When she was satisfied, she stood and pulled the chain, the water tank emptying into the bowl and washing away any remnants of her piss. Her ass flexed faintly as she replaced the lid, the muscles beneath her skin shifting with the movement. Turning back toward the bed, her reflection in the mirror caught her attention. She paused, staring at herself; her slight, lithe frame, glowing skin, her flushed breasts, her nipples dark and hard. Her stomach curved gently inward, leading to the bare, smooth folds of her cunt, still glistening faintly. Her thighs were slick in places where the dampness hadn't been fully wiped away, the light catching the subtle sheen.

Raven blinked, shaking her head to clear it, and scanned the room, looking for her things; her clothes were freshly cleaned and neatly folded on the dresser, and her small bag hung on the back of a chair. Reaching inside her bag, her fingers closed around the familiar spine of her notebook.

The cover was plain and unassuming, just scuffed brown leather with faint, almost invisible etchings. But inside, it was a world of chaos and power. As she sat cross-legged on the bed, she opened it, her bare thighs pressing against each other as she settled the book in her lap.

The pages were a riot of ink: swirling sigils, jagged symbols, dense diagrams, and cramped handwriting in multiple scripts. Raven flipped through her notebook, her fingers brushing the edges of the worn pages as her tired eyes studied the incantations she had been learning. Her body still felt shaky, but the heaviness in her limbs was fading, her senses sharpening as she focused on the task.

As she turned the next page, her gaze caught on something unusual; on the small table by the bed, an empty vial lay discarded alongside the stub of a few black candles. She frowned, reaching for the vial, its dark glass still faintly warm to the touch. She brought it to her nose and sniffed. The scent was unmistakable: thick, musky, and floral with a faint undercurrent of something heady and primal. Her lips parted as the realization struck her. This was oil used for rituals. Not just any ritual, but Mother Night's sex magick protection ritual.

Her eyes flicked to the blackened remains of the candles, their wax pooling unevenly. The pieces clicked together. Vanity must have tried to prepare for her journey into Carnivale, and the only protection ritual Vanity knew, one Raven recognized as being tied to Mother Night, was rooted in sex magick.

Raven's brows furrowed. It was clear Vanity had tried, but the meager remains suggested she hadn't had enough to properly complete the ritual. The thought of Vanity, desperate to ensure her safety but lacking the proper components, stirred something in Raven. The pride she'd felt in Vanity's strength mingled now with a pang of concern. She set the vial back down and turned her attention back to the notebook in her lap. If Vanity couldn't protect herself fully, then Raven would have to do it for her. Her fingers trailed across the page she had stopped on, the sigils there jagged and dark, written in thick ink that seemed almost alive.

The spell was a ward, a protective barrier meant to shield its subject from malevolent magick and supernatural forces. But it wasn't simple; it required focus, strength, and an openness to the energies that coursed through her. Raven inhaled deeply, centering herself as she settled back onto the bed, thighs parted slightly, her fingers pressed against the sigils. The symbols seemed to writhe beneath her fingers, sharp and jagged as if they wanted to cut her. Her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, her full breasts swaying slightly with every motion, her dark, hardened nipples glistening with a faint sheen of sweat.

She let her fingers drift over the lines of the spell, feeling the faint hum of power beneath her touch. Her pussy throbbed faintly, a lingering warmth pulsing through her as the magick started to creep into the room, curling around her like a snake.

Her lips parted, and she began to chant in an ancient tongue which long predated mankind's arrival in Tierra Muerta. Old Magick.

"Lur'thak volem... Y'reth sul kana... Dor'mek uthra..."

The ancient words spilled from her mouth like a foreign melody, rough and guttural in some places, smooth and lilting in others. Each syllable felt heavier than the last, pulling at her tongue, vibrating against her throat. The air in the room grew heavier, the golden light dimming as shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls. A faint, pulsing glow surrounded her nude body, outlining her curves in soft light that flickered like the edge of a dying flame.

Her breath hitched as the symbols on the page began to burn brighter, their edges crackling faintly like embers catching fire. A low, distant growl seemed to echo in the corners of the room, and her cunt clenched involuntarily at the sound, her body reacting instinctively to the dark energy building around her.

"Sul'veth arim... Korrat nek tho... Ha'khum... Ha'khum..."

The words rolled off her tongue faster now, her voice rising with urgency. The notebook in her lap felt hot, the heat spreading through her thighs and into her core. Her skin prickled, the sensations sharp and electric, her nipples aching as if pulled taut by unseen fingers. The air thrummed, a scent of ozone and peaches and cherries, cloying and sweet. The storm in the air grew louder, the faint crackle of lightning dancing across her skin, leaving trails of heat in its wake.

Her hips shifted against the bed, her thighs trembling as the heat built between them. Sweat trickled down her stomach, pooling at the curve of her waist as her chant grew louder, more forceful.

"Tharak morne... Duska ven thal... Ha'khummm..."

The symbols on the page burst into brilliant light, the glow illuminating her flushed, glistening body. Raven's head tilted back, her breasts rising high with each gasping breath as the magick surged through her. Her fingers dug into the sheets, her legs spreading wider as the energy poured into her, raw and untamed. The low growl in the air grew louder, sharper, like the snarl of a beast circling just out of sight. The shadows on the walls twisted and warped, shapes forming and dissolving before she could fully see them.

Her voice cracked as she neared the end of the spell, her thighs quivering violently, her cunt pulsing with every syllable. The air seemed to explode around her as she cried out the final words:

"HA'KHUM!"

The power surged outward like a tidal wave, the glowing symbols collapsing into ash that scattered into the air. The notebook fell from her lap as her body arched violently, a guttural cry ripping from her throat. The energy poured out of her like a bolt of lightning, and for a moment, the room seemed like it was plunged into complete darkness.

When the light returned, Raven sat slumped on the bed, her chest heaving and her skin slick with sweat. A faint trickle of blood ran from her nose, but she didn't wipe it away this time. Instead, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes glowed faintly, the power still simmering within her, even as the room settled. She felt the thread of the spell, faint but unbreakable. Vanity was protected.

A slow, exhausted smile spread across her lips.

"It's done," she whispered, the last echoes of Magickal energy dispersing in the lavish room.

Raven sat still on the bed, her legs spread slightly, her body still tingling from the lingering magick that had coursed through her. The blood trickling from her nose had dried, leaving a faint trail across her flushed cheek. She turned her gaze back to the mirror, catching sight of herself again in the low, golden light of the room.

Her reflection was raw and sensual. Her skin glistened with sweat, her breasts rising and falling with the deep, uneven rhythm of her breaths. Her nipples stood dark and stiff. Her stomach glistened as she shifted, the slender curve of her thighs, still faintly trembling, and the glistening folds of her cunt.

She leaned back slowly onto the plush satin bed, cool against her overheated skin. The softness was almost surreal, a far cry from the rough cots and hard ground she was used to. For a moment, she let herself sink into it, her body relaxing fully against the decadent sheets. Her hand drifted lazily over her stomach, her fingers tracing the faint lines of her abdomen before sliding upward to cup her breast. She let out a soft sigh as her thumb brushed over her nipple, the sensation sparking a new wave of warmth that pooled low in her belly.

Her other hand moved downward, her fingers grazing the soft skin of her inner thigh before slipping between her legs. Her touch was light at first, her fingers brushing over her slick folds, spreading the wetness of her smooth pussy as her breathing quickened.