(Author's note: this is a snippet from a full sized novel that has been accepted for publication. Consider it a teaser; if you want to read more then pick up a copy of "Unpredicted Prophecy" when it comes out...)
The last trail was a fairly good sized chamber, with no obvious chasms to fall into, tight spaces to bar their way, or icy pools to freeze them solid. No poisonous gases, no signs of imminent geological activity, no unsteady ground. Just a large room with a few solid lumps here and there. Maitreyah advanced to inspect the lumps more closely. "They look like bag chairs," he whispered to Shakilah. "Made out of fur and skins. Not very well made, but..." he shrugged, and shone the light on another lump.
Maitreyah swallowed bile with effort as the light shone upon the corpse of a humanoid creature. It may have been human. Or maybe not. The species of the victim was undeterminable after having been flayed of its skin and drained of all its blood. He shone the light on other lumps, which proved to be other corpses of a multitude of species. All of them both flayed and desiccated.
Then... something moved.
Maitreyah shone the light on the movement. A fur lined bag couch, from which a figure arose with silent hostility evident in its every nuance of posture. "Vampire," Shakilah breathed, and Maitreyah had no difficulty associating the creature with the name.
The vampire before them was no undead corpse. Compared to this creature, a walking pile of animated necrotic tissue would have seemed as cute and cuddly as a stuffed teddy bear. While Shakilah's ancestors had obviously been wolves in the distant past, somehow altered into humanoid forms, this creature's lineage could be traced back to a mosquito. It was thin, and tall, and spindly, and angular. It's jointed and articulated exoskeleton seemed to glow in the light of Zaphan and its four arms and two legs were poised for attack. The face,
well, I'll never have to worry about nightmare fodders ever again,
bore two compound eyes and a long nose curled into a spiral.
The proboscis for feeding,
Maitreyah duly noted.
This is thing is a vampire, all right. Bloodsucking parasitic predator of sentients.
The vampire spread its arms like a prophet exhorting the faithful, and a glimmer appeared behind its back.
Wings?
Maitreyah wondered.
Can it fly in here?
Little puffs then appeared from the armpits, little clouds of pink dust.
No, that's not what they're for,
Maitreyah realized, as the wings blew the spores directly at them. Shakilah stiffened as a pink tendril reached her nostrils. So did part of Maitreyah.
Pheromones,
he realized with no small amount of disgust.
This thing sexually arouses its prey, until they're eager for its touch.
With energy born of utter fear and horror, he blew the air back at the vampire, along with its odious chemicals. The vampire rebounded off the far wall, and then charged in to attack. Silently, oh so silently, for it had no mouth to scream or even speak with, only that awful proboscis. And its hands with their two fingers and opposable thumb, all three digits tipped with barbed and serrated claws.
The vampire lashed out at Maitreyah, and he backed away in utter terror, swinging wildly with Zaphan. The creature easily slipped the clumsy swings, and the sharp claws threatened to tear into him. Then Shakilah, snarling with fury and fear, charged into the fray, several hundred pounds of teeth and fur and social predatory instinct tackling into the monster from behind.
But the vampire may very well have been as long lived as its mythical namesake, for it countered with the science of trained fighting responses. As the creature fell, it twisted, and Shakilah went flying considerably farther than the monster, which coiled into a tight ball as it hit the ground, rolling to its feet with nary a pause. Shakilah landed with somewhat greater impact, and groaned, the breath knocked out of her.
As the vampire towered over her, the proboscis began to straighten, the intent clear. Shakilah looked up with eyes clouded by pain, as the vampire prepared to feed. Then the creature stiffened, its body radiating pain, as Zaphan chopped cleanly through one of its hands. Green ichors flew from the wound, and the creature fled in silent agony, trailing rose colored streamers in its wake.
Maitreyah watched the vampire as it fled from sight, then glanced at the ichors dripping from the axe. He shivered, and took a deep breath to still his shaken nerves.
Oops.
His body began to move without conscious volition - he didn't even feel himself making choices. He merely acted without thinking, as the attractive female beneath him, the girl who had inhaled voluminous amounts of pheromones in her efforts to regain her wind from the fall, reached for him with unvocalized invitation.
Kissing a girl with a muzzle was... well, it wasn't. Not exactly a possibility. But the sweeps of her long, rough tongue as it played over his face added to the experience in much the same manner as a traditional kiss. Maitreyah's hands in turn squeezed her furry chest, savoring the feel. Rather like a woman wearing fur lingerie, the soft feel of her coat.
Shakilah moaned as she experienced what was, to her, equally exotic. His smooth, dainty human tongue circled each nipple in turn, tormenting the stiff peaks before moving on to the next. She sighed deeply, and lay back, spreading her thighs as her cultural programming dictated. Bitch in heat, ready for breeding. Maitreyah's lust maddened gaze moved down to the dripping wet pussy, and lowered with a slow, unstoppable movement of torso and limb.
Maitreyah would later realize that, whatever else he may have been, he had not been a virgin when he left the cryochamber. Stored within his body of unremembered knowledge was a signifigantly sized body of erotic techniques that implied both long experience and actual study of the art of love. While the implications of that would disturb him for many a quiet moment thereafter, he never once regretted the possession of such knowledge when he needed it most. When Shakilah needed it most.
