Previously in Frankengeld. The Collector works well, giving pleasure to Helena and Una at the same time as gathering intimate juices. Damion was able to make the first version of his Elixir, a triumph in just a few weeks. And he hoped to test it on Gerda soon. But, late afternoon, Paul arrived to say that he had failed in his duty. Whilst he was distracted during lovemaking with Elizabeth her fiancee, Victor, had slipped from Schloss Frankenstein and rejoined the hunt for the monster. That evening Damion, Alicia, Paul and the Chief of Police witness the events at the Windmill. Where the monster is consumed by the burning building and Victor Frankenstein barely escapes with this life.
Now read on ...
22nd June in the year 1784.
With difficulty I put aside thinking about the dreadful events around the windmill and picked up the little book that Sophie had given me before she set off to hunt Victor's creation. I had a little free time and hoped this would be a good use of it. I soon decided it was a copy of an earlier volume. The text gave the ancient names of provinces that had not been used in a very long time, and there were references to some places that no longer exist, wiped from history with only their names surviving.
Much of the text confirmed what the Mystery Club had already learned. If I had read this a few months ago I would have dismissed it as superstitious nonsense. Now I devoured it, looking for anything useful to our quest. And found it.
One tale described how a pack of wolfwere were dealt with by the use of a cure. An apothecary devised a medicine which drove out the lycanthropic curse. The townsfolk and local hunters trapped individual members of the pack and forced them to take the medicine. And, once their numbers were whittled down, it was possible to enter their lair and deal with the remainder.
It was a humane cure in that it did not harm the subject but, interestingly, did different things depending on the physical form of the patient at the time they received the cure. If the wolfwere was in wolf form they became a natural wolf, if in human form they became a human, normal, and no longer cursed.
This was exciting and, a few pages later, there was the recipe for the cure. Admittedly it was written in poor Latin, as was the rest of the book, and the illustrations were not up to the standard of Helena's, or indeed any modern herbal primer. But it was a start. I called Helena in and showed her the illustrations of the plants.
"We need to find these," I said, grasping her hand and pulling her close. I was, I admit, over excited by the prospect of a cure. "This could save my family."
That afternoon, with the Priapus potion finished, and my Pleasure elixir sitting on the shelf ready for Gerda to test out, Helena and I took a walk in the woods. Anya had kindly identified the plants as woodland dwelling species, and had even put a spell onto a forked piece of wood which we were to use like a dowsing wand to locate them. She warned me the tool required concentration, I must keep in my mind that which I was searching for, or it could fail. Helena had made her own drawings of the plants so, overall, we were well equipped to collect them.
The weather was very clement and it promised to be a profitable and enjoyable afternoon. We wandered through the town and headed west. I had no desire to go north and enter the Buchenwald forest, too dark and too closely associated with the deaths of the old doctor and his daughter. West took us to more healthy woodland. The sun warmed us as we walked and I started to relax. Before I knew it I was holding Helena's hand. It seemed churlish to pull away, even though it breached etiquette, but there was nobody to see our error so we walked together and talked of pleasant but insignificant things.
The forest was all dappled shades, the sun penetrating in shafts of golden light which thrust down towards the sparse undergrowth. And from that undergrowth tall mushrooms swelled and engorged, stretching and lengthening towards the light. I found it an interesting place which, for some reason, made me think of my desire for Helena. I took out the dowsing rod, then looked around to doubly check that nobody was watching. I was a man of science about to use folk magic, it was a little embarrassing.
Anya had taught me how to hold the stick. It was shaped like the letter Y, or the wishbone from a chicken. You grasped the two longer parts and pointed the shorter point away from you, placing the stick under tension by flexing it under your fingers. Anya told me it would move, twist, or rise when a treasure I seek is nearby, pointing the way.
I swept the rod from side to side. Helena was wandering in the glade. She had broken off a long piece of grass and was swinging it at other pieces of grass that were still intact, like a very casual swordsman. Her hips swayed as she moved and her hair down her back bobbed and moved making sensual curves. It glowed when hit by a shaft of sunlight.
The rod rose in my hands, twisting up. In my trousers my member attempted the same manoeuvre. Helena must be between me and the plants we need, I thought. I swept the rod away to one side and it dropped. So, I deliberately moved away a few paces and tried again. As it came to point at Helena it rose again, quite dramatically.
"Helena?" I asked. "Could you come and stand behind me, please? I'm having trouble getting a true reading."
Helena looked at me, with one hand on her hip and with the other holding the end of the piece of grass in her mouth. She looked ravishing, or perhaps someone who wanted to be ravished. Obediently she came and stood behind me. I could feel her warm breath on my neck, which was quite distracting but I had asked her to stand there so I could not complain.
I flexed the rod, though what I wanted to do was fumble with my trousers and give my member a little more room, it was becoming entangled. The rod twisted violently and struck me on the chest.
"I'm sorry Helena," I admitted. "I just can't make it work. It's supposed to move when it points at treasure but it keeps moving when pointing at you."
"You're too tense," she replied. And she put her hands on my hips and pushed her body up close behind me. Then she ran her hands over my torso in a series of gentle strokes. Most of me felt much more relaxed, but one part of me became a lot more tense, in fact it became as taut as a bow string and almost quivered.
Helena stopped caressing me, which I thought was a shame, and moved towards the basket we had brought. "Let's have a picnic," she suggested. "I put a blanket and some refreshments in here. We'll need to make space in the basket if we're going to return with ingredients for your special cure."
There was a logic in what she said. Perhaps I was too tense. This was a significant breakthrough in my attempts to deal with our family were-curse. Maybe if I sat and relaxed a while I could make the rod work. Helena spread the blanket and we sat and drank some wine, ate some cheese and bread, and an apple each. They tasted wonderful out in the fresh air.
Helena then encouraged me to lie down and rest for a little and, after removing my waistcoat, tickled me gently with her piece of grass. I wriggled and we talked and laughed together until we started to kiss, after which conversation was more limited. We kissed for a long time then Helena opened my flies and released my member. It too loved the fresh air and sunshine and sprang to attention as if to imitate the mushrooms that were scattered all around this glade. Helena praised its commitment to duty, then she kissed and sucked it, a reward for its dedication. Soon she was taking it deep into her throat and it enjoyed the complete feeling of well lubricated warmth she was so adept at providing.
Before things could progress to their inevitable, and sticky, outcome Helena decided she wanted some of the pleasure herself. She sat astride me, pulled her underwear to one side, and impaled herself on me. With a delicious giggle and a wriggle of her hips she settled down, her skirt spread like a flower covering our conjoined status. Then she churned upon me and made sweet little cries of joy. This was delightful, I thought, but it wasn't getting the task completed.
