After a while, I continued, “Do
you think she meant it, about coming back to kill us?”

“Probably,” said Iola.
“One drop of blood is all it takes to revive a senior vamp. There are ways
to make their deaths more permanent, but…”

“Yeah,” said Iason.
“With one this powerful, I don’t think burning her heart or chopping her
head off or even the garlic-crossroads trick would cut it. We could probably
reduce her to dust and scatter her to the winds and, as soon as one fleck of
that dust touched blood… fwoosh.”

“Seriously?” I said. 

“She must have been thousands
of years old,” Iola replied. “Maybe tens of thousands. Certainly the
oldest and strongest vamp in these islands, though I’ve heard of still worse in
the oldest, blackest forests of the mainland…”

“Point is, she’s probably been
staked before, by people stronger than us, and come back from it. She’ll be
back from this.”

“Hrm,” I said. “One
drop of blood…” I smiled as an idea hit me. “Does it have to be pure
blood?”

Iason and I stood on the high cliff
once again. Far below, the sea crashed against the sheer face of the cliff, not
a bit of shoreline between them. This time, though, Iola was with us. 

The three of us swung Brea’s corpse.
There was a hole in the middle of her, where we’d carefully cut her away from
the tree; I’d used it to pack her full enough of rocks that it would take all
three of us to give her a good toss. I wanted to make sure she stayed
sunk. 

Iola counted to three, and we let
Brea fly. At the peak of her arc, I hit her with as much wind and force as I
could muster, to shove her that extra bit farther away. She tumbled slowly as
she fell, shrinking to a little black dot that vanished into the water. 

And there she’d stay, at the bottom
of the sea. Sure, some blood might be spilled down there, but it would be
diluted with seawater, useless to her. And we’d been very thorough about
making sure none of her was left behind when we pulled her out from around the
tree. I even worked out a finding spell for bits of her. There were none. 

So she would stay at the bottom of
the sea. One day, maybe, she’d float ashore, or the sea and land would swap places,
and blood would bring her to life again–but that would be hundreds or
thousands of years in the future, long after she ceased to be any trouble to
us. 

“Well,” I said. “Now
what?”

“You’re still going to search
for books, right?” Iason asked. 

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s
off to the mainland for me. Question is, are you coming with me?”

“That depends,” said
Iason. He held out his sword, hilt-first and still in its scabbard, to Iola.
“You killed Brea. Your stake finished her. This has always been rightfully
yours–take it.”

Iola reached slowly for the handle,
then stopped. “No,” she said. “My friends are avenged… But it
doesn’t change that I failed to protect them. Keep father’s sword, brother. I
haven’t earned it.”

“Not yet,” said Iason. He
glanced at me, then took a deep breath. “So come with us. That way, when
you do feel ready… I’ll be there, ready to give it to you.”

He kept looking at me, like he was
worried I would object. I shrugged. Far be it from the squishy wizard to
complain about an extra meatshield.

After a while, Iola nodded.
“There’s nothing left for me here. I might as well.”

“Great!” I said. “Now
let’s go find some food, and then a boat out of these crazy islands!”

As we walked away from the cliff, I
thought about what Brea had said. Something coming, she said. A choice between
freedom and an age of iron order, or something like that. And me in the middle,
with the power to change history. Maybe.

It was a lot to carry. Especially
since I only had Brea’s word for which side was the good one–and maybe a
vampire’s idea of a good future wouldn’t exactly be the same as mine. But on
the other hand… well, anybody can change history, really. It’s just a matter
of doing something different. And if I were going to place a bet on the
likeliest person to change history, I know my money would be on the
beautiful young magical prodigy on a quest. So really… nothing has changed.

Except I’m finally getting
out of the Tin Islands. Things are looking up!

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

Brea screamed again, and clutched at
the stake in her heart. She tried to pull it out, and howled in agony. A moment
later, it became clear why, as a point on her heart bulged outward and then
tore open, letting a slender young shoot which twisted toward the light and
sprouted leaves. 

I grinned triumphantly. I knew
it would work! I’d borrowed a page from the King of Munn, or more accurately
from the book I took from him: the stake Iola had used was one I’d enchanted
with a spell of transference. I’d reasoned that wild magic or no, whatever kept
a vampire’s body moving and healed her wounds had to be some kind of
enchantment–so I enchanted the stake to transfer that spell onto itself.
Brea’s own healing powers were bringing the dead wood of the stake back to life–and
if wood was a good enough symbol of life to be lethal to a vampire, how much
more damaging would a tree growing inside them be?

Getting closer, I could see the
runes I’d carved into the stake were glowing and smoking, but the healing magic
pouring through them was repairing the stake as it went, keeping the spell
intact. 

Amazingly, when she saw me, Brea
groaned and flailed her way back to her feet. “Kill… you…” she
gurgled, and took one lurching step toward me. 

Iason sank his sword deep into her
remaining shoulder. He struck a second and a third time, until her arm hung
limply, and then he began slashing at the backs of her legs. Brea fell to the
ground and rolled over. 

I took advantage of the better angle
this gave me to flood the inside of her heat cavity with fire. I did my best to
avoid the stake, but I couldn’t help but catch some of the shoots twisting
their way through Brea’s veins. It didn’t matter; the more we hurt her, the
more her regenerative powers fought back, and the more the stake drained them from
her. 

She flailed and shuddered a few more
times, but it was over. “I won’t… stay dead… forever…” she
hissed with difficulty. “And when… I come… back… you’ll all… be
dead… Dead…”

She stopped and sagged. A moment
later, she shriveled up, until she looked just like the drained corpses she’d
left in Castle Brinksmoor. The only difference was that none of them had a
healthy young sapling growing up through the middle of their chest.

I sagged to the ground.
“Phew!” I said. Then I looked up at Iason and Iola. “You two
aren’t about to kill me or anything, are you?”

They shook their heads. “Her
power over us broke sometime while she was dying,” Iola said. “It
seems your trick worked.”

“And that was pretty cool
making the thing explode like that. Too bad you ruined it with that lame ‘suck
it,’ line.”

“Iola,” I said. “I’m
too tired to kick him. Can you?”

She sat on the grass next to me.
“Normally I would be happy to,” she said, “but if you think
you’re tired, imagine how we feel?”

“Yeah,” said Iason.
“She was going easy on you, remember?”

I looked down at the corpse lying in
the grass between us. “Good thing, too,” I admitted. “If she’d
been serious about killing us… I dunno. I just don’t know.”

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

My vision returned, and my jaw
dropped. She was still. Fucking. ALIVE!?

Oh, she was hurt, that much was
obvious. She was on her knees, and her right arm and most of the right side of
her torso were just gone. Her jaw had been vaporized or blown off, and the
right side of her face was a disgusting mess of black burn and exposed red
flesh, here and there with bits of bone sticking through. Her chest cavity was
wide open, the ribs blasted away completely on the right side. The damage even
extended a ways past the spine, though her heart seemed undamaged, pulsing away
hanging in the open air, exposed front, back, and right. And she was already
healing, flesh knitting itself back together, bones regrouping. 

Her one eye glared at me with a look
that made it completely obvious what order she was giving her thralls: a single
thought, the mental equivalent of a howl of rage: Kill.

Iason plunged his sword straight
through her heart from behind. She arched her back, screaming, vocal chords or
no, scrabbling desperately behind herself with her remaining arm in an effort
to grab and dislodge the blade. Energy crackled around her, flowing into the
sword, which glowed first dull red, then bright, and finally white.

Iason grimaced in pain as he tried
to hold onto it, keep it in her, but she twisted with fantastic strength and
sent him and sword both flying. 

As soon as she did, though, Iola was
on her, leaping onto Brea’s chest and knocking her to the ground. Iola plunged
a stake into the hole Iason’s sword had made when its tip emerged through the
front of Brea’s heart, and Brea screamed again and flung her off. 

And at this point, you’re probably
all going, “What the fuck? Why are Iason and Iola attacking Brea? Didn’t
she have control of them?”

And you’re right. She did. She just
wasn’t the only one.

Flash back to that first day, when
we were prepping weapons against Brea. I told you there were some other things
I prepped, right? One of them–well, two, really–was Iason and Iola. Iola had
been reluctant–extremely reluctant–to do it, and after what happened
with Brinksmoor and nearly happened with Hragulf, I couldn’t blame her. But it
had to be done, and eventually Iason and I convinced her of that. Brea was
strangely reluctant to enthrall me, but we had no way of knowing if that
reluctance would extend to them. In case it didn’t, we needed some kind of
countermeasure.

The stone turned out to be easy
enough to use–it’d have to be for Hragulf to figure it out, right?–and before
long Iola and Iason were staring into it, mouths drooping open, eyes glazed. It
was simple enough to give them a rule, like the ones Hragulf had given me:
“When you hear me say ‘Suck it, bitch,’ you will attack Brea with the best
weapons at your disposal.”

There’d been some discussion about
the phrase. I wanted something I wouldn’t normally say, to avoid accidents, but
easy to remember. “It should be badass,” I’d said. “Something
really cool to say after scoring a blow on a vampire.”

“Which is exactly why it should
be anything other than ‘suck it, bitch,” Iason said, which is when
made a clear and cogent point which settled the argument, to whit, I kicked him
in the shin. 

The only part I hadn’t been sure
about was whether my command with the stone could override her control. Even if
it could, I was sure once I’d triggered it, she’d make sure it didn’t work
again. That meant I had to use it at the right time–and once I saw how little
even Iason’s sword did to her, I knew it would have to wait until she was
vulnerable. If I could find a way to make her vulnerable. 

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

I walked into a clearing to find
Brea waiting for me at the far end, flanked by Iola and Iason. “I noticed
you were following us,” she said. “Come to surrender?”

“I figured out why you’re doing
this,” I answered. “I’m a Choosing One, aren’t I?”

She arched an eyebrow, impressed.
“I’m surprised one such as you knows of such things.”

“I’ve heard speculations.”
The wild magic equivalent–opposite, really–of a Chosen One. Someone who, by
random chance, might be in the right place at the right time to make a
choice that might alter the course of history. But the whole point of
them was choice–being under someone’s thrall would the defeat the purpose,
unless I’d chosen to be controlled. “The theory suggests those
powerful enough in wild magic might even be able to sense a Choosing One before
they appear.”

“Indeed,” said Brea.
“That is why I infiltrated Lord Brinksmoor’s manor long before you
arrived. I knew you would very likely come.”

“Well… If the choice you
wanted me to make was learning the Rite of Uncreation, it’s done. Let them
go.” That was why the three days, I realized. She’d probably overheard me
saying I wasn’t ready to cast it, so she wanted to make sure I had both plenty
of time and a strong incentive to learn it. Three days had to have been a guess
on her part–not that far off, all told.

“I’m afraid not.” She
looked serious, almost grave, for a moment. “Something is coming,
something terrible, and with it comes a possibility that you will have a choice
to make. Choose rightly, and we remain free. Choose wrongly, and an age of iron
order shall descend upon the world, crushing us all in its implacable grip.
Learning the Rite has shifted the likelihood of you being in a position to make
that choice from a possibility to a probability.”

“Swell.”

“We are on the same side in
this, Lemma. You wish to surrender the world to a tyrant no more than I do.
Make your choice to serve me now, and I will ensure that you make the right
choice when the time comes.”

“Hmm, yeah, lemme consider
that… I’m gonna have to go with no, and also fuck you.”

“Your friends will die.”

“You promised not to kill them
until nightfall!” I began drawing on power–not just fire this time, but
air and earth as well. 

Brea smirked. “Indeed. I
promised I wouldn’t kill them until nightfall. You, on the other hand,
made no such promise–and I never promised I wouldn’t command them to fight you
to the death.”

Fuck! “Wait!” I said. “Before you do… I have a
counteroffer.” I reached down to my belt and unhooked a pouch. 

“A what?” Brea seemed
genuinely puzzled and surprised. 

“Catch!” I shouted, and
tossed her the pouch. Power thrummed through me, a living conduit for the
immense flow of energy from sky down to earth and then, very soon, in just a
moment…

She had to sense the build up of
power. She knew I was attacking. Instinctively, just as she’d done with every
attack she saw coming, she caught the pouch, a reflex trained over millennia
until it happened without thought quicker than thought.

…back up from the earth again.
Lightning leaped from my outstretched hand, struck the pouch, disintegrated it
instantly. The rock inside pulsed with light, once, and then shattered in
Brea’s hand. 

The rock Hragulf had used to
mesmerize me–twice! The rock full of immense high-magical power, broken-off
piece of who knew what ancient artifact. Probably something that had been made
for a Chosen One, discarded once they, and it, were no longer needed. Point is:
I destroyed it. 

Leaving the magic inside with
nowhere to go, nowhere except exploding outward in its purest form.
Specifically, immense quantities of light magic in its purest form: an
eye-searing burst of brilliant, white, high-magical, maybe even holy, light,
bright enough to–just for a moment–outshine the sun.

Brea screamed as the light engulfed
her. “Suck on that, bitch!” I crowed, or tried to. It’s hard
to sound triumphant when you’re shielding your eyes from the brightest fucking
light in the world.

My vision returned, and my jaw
dropped. She was still. Fucking. ALIVE!?

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

I set out after them as soon as I
finished the book. Fortunately, Iason and Iola couldn’t glide through the
countryside effortlessly leaving no trail, and they weren’t bothering to cover
their tracks.

As I searched, I continued puzzling
over what Brea could possibly want from me. She’d had me under her control twice
already, incredibly easily. She could have made me do whatever she wanted–but
she didn’t. Which had to mean that for some reason she couldn’t. So she
could manipulate, bargain, even blackmail me with Iason and Iola’s lives… but
she couldn’t outright compel me. Whatever it was she wanted me to do, I
had to choose to do it. But she’d offered to make me a sex-slave if I agreed to
serve her, which meant that one choice was enough–choosing to serve her was as
good as choosing to do the thing. 

One choice. I remembered something about that, from a lecture long ago
at the Academy. A lecture about… Chosen Ones, yes, that was it. People chosen
from birth–sometimes before–by a god for some destined task. Guided every
step of the way–gifted a magic sword here, “chance” meeting with a
wise mentor there–toward whatever it was the god had in mind for them, most
never realizing that their every choice had been decided for them from the
moment they were Chosen. 

I laughed at the idea that that
could be me. What god would pick me to do their work? Besides, it was the
opposite of what was happening here. Brea wanted me to make a choice,
the one thing Chosen Ones never got to do. Besides, she was practically wild
magic incarnate, and making a Chosen One was some of the highest of high magic,
imposing order onto the entire course of a person’s life. That’s why only gods
did it–nobody else could! (Well… Maybe a high-level demon, but that’s
really just a god going the other way, so.)

Maybe focus instead on what she wanted
me to do. She’d hinted the condition of my body wasn’t that important, and
she’d killed Hragulf right when he was about to take away my ability to do
magic. Did she need me to cast a spell? That would make sense–high magic is
about the one thing that would be completely impossible for her to do on her
own. But what spell?

…Fuck. Just like that, everything clicked into place. I knew what
spell she wanted from me. I knew why she needed me to make a choice. I knew how
badly I’d fucked up. 

A few minutes later, I walked into a
clearing to find Brea waiting for me at the far end, flanked by Iola and Iason.
“I noticed you were following us,” she said. “Come to
surrender?”

“I figured out why you’re doing
this,” I answered. “I’m a Choosing One, aren’t I?”

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

“You love this, don’t
you?” Brea hissed in my ear. “I saw it, smelled it before,
with that arrogant lordling, my wayward child, that Hragulf fool. I can smell
your arousal now. You kick and scream and deny, but you love being held
helpless, love seeing human minds molded like wet clay… The only thing
you like more than seeing it done is having it happen to you… but you don’t
get that until you agree to serve. Swear to obey me and I will mold you into
the sexual puppet you have always craved to be…”

She was wrong, obviously. I didn’t
get off on this kind of thing! That was just the sick, twisted fantasy of an
inhuman monster. The warm, wet feeling in my panties was just about how good a
kisser Iola was. 

Speaking of, Iola broke the kiss,
and I gasped for air. “I could make them rape you,” Brea said.
“I could overwhelm them with desire for you and let you toy with them as
you please. I could make them love you. I can do anything to them–and how do
you feel about that, my little puppets?”

“Stop this!” cried Iola.
“Never–I swore never again. I’ll never be controlled, never be some
creep’s sex-toy again! You know that, you m–mo–m–m–”

“Having trouble saying
‘monster’?” Brea laughed. 

“M–” Iola struggled, her
face turning purple with frustration and rage. “M–mo–mi–Mistress!”

Brea laughed again. “You see, I
know what hurts Iola more than any torture ever could. And I know what hurts Iason,
forced to stand still and silent while his dear little sister is tormented by a
monster like me. And I know what hurts you, Lemma, what scares you,
is weakness. You have to always be the strongest and the best, don’t you? Well,
I’m stronger than you, better than you, more powerful than you–and I’m taking
your toys away.”

Her eyes suddenly filled the world.
It happened too fast for me to close my eyes–before I knew what happened, I
was lost in that warm, beautiful blue sea, sinking slowly into blissful
darkness. 

When I woke, it was morning. I was
fully rested, relaxed–and alone. 

There was no way I was going to wait
until nightfall to fight her again. Sunlight might not slow her down much, but
it had to have a little effect, and I was going to need every little
advantage I could find to stand a chance. After all, if I failed… I didn’t
know what making Iason and Iola beg to death entailed, but I imagined it
wouldn’t be something they could recover easily from even if I did defeat Brea the
next day.

I spent the morning making sure I
was properly warded against as much of her magic as I could and reading the
last of The Rite of Uncreation. The previous day I’d gotten to the
purely theoretical possible failures–things nobody had ever seen the Rite do,
but which it might if it went really, really badly awry. So I
picked up where I left off: how to (probably) tell when the Rite was about to
cause magic to stop working for precisely one-quarter of a second. I shuddered
as I imagined what that meant. Every spell being cast at that moment would
fail, of course, but that was the least of it. Every building held up by magic would
fall. Every enchanted object would lose its power–and when the magic returned,
it would have nowhere to go, and just explode outward as a pure manifestation
of whatever type of magic it was. And every living thing which depended on
magic to live–every sorcerer sustained by age spells, every dragon and elf,
every vampire, unicorn, and phoenix–would die instantly, gone forever. 

And the book still had eleven pages
left. Eleven possibilities even worse than that. But I had to know
before I faced Brea, because I wasn’t sure I had anything else which could hurt
her. 

Although… That thing about
interrupting magic did give me an idea that might just work…

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

I saw Iola’s eyes widen, her pupils
dwindling away to nothing as she met Brea’s gaze. So that’s what that looks
like from the outside, I thought. Brea dropped Iola a moment later, and
Iola advanced toward me while Brea turned to face Iason. 

I whistled. Iola showed every sign
of being completely in Brea’s thrall even while holding the iron sword. The
last time I’d been controlled by a vampire, the spell broke as soon as I
touched that sword, so either Brea’s spell was that much more powerful or, more
likely, she was skilled enough to make her control last even after the spell
faded. 

I wasn’t sure which was worse. 

“I don’t want to hurt
you,” I called out to Iola. 

“Good,” Iola replied.
“But it won’t stop me from hurting you!”

She rushed toward me, blade
outstretched. I tossed a low-powered fireball at her, and she blocked it with
ease, but it was enough to break her stride and let me put more distance
between us. “You know this isn’t really you! This is her controlling you!”

“I know!” Iola replied.
“But it doesn’t matter! I have to.”

I tossed a couple more fireballs to
keep her back, but she was closing the distance. I was either going to have to
pull out something heavier, or try to fight her hand-to-hand, and I didn’t think
I’d stand much chance at that. 

A large figure loomed up next to me.
“Iason!” I cried. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, Lemma,” he said.
It took me a split second too long to realize he wasn’t apologizing for being
late. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back against him, pinning my arms against
my sides as he crushed me in a bearhug. 

Iola came up to us, sword raised,
but then Brea appeared next to her and gestured for her to stop. “I could
have her run you through, you know,” Brea said. “Both of you. I could
make Iason crush you to death.”

“But you won’t,” I
answered, trying to sound more confident than I was. “You need me.”

Brea sighed. “True. But do I
need all of you? For example, do you really need two legs for the
service I require?”

“Dunno. Why don’t you tell me
what it is you want me to do, and I’ll tell you how many legs I’ll need?”

Brea laughed. “The same bravado
as always, I see. Poor little duckie, her bark so much worse than her
bite.”

“Uh, ducks don’t bark. Do
you… Do you not know what ducks are?”

Brea smiled broadly, her fangs
gleaming in the light of a rising moon. “Defy me all you want, little one,
but your friends will suffer for it.” She ran the back of her hand slowly
down Iola’s cheek. Iola shivered, whether in revulsion or desire, I couldn’t
tell. Based on my own experiences with vampires, it could be either–even both.

“If you think torturing my
friends will make me more likely to do what you want…”

Brea’s smile somehow got even wider.
“Oh, I’m not going to hurt them. Not tonight. I’m just going to
make them suffer.”

“What the fuck does that
meanmmrrphh–” Iola covered my mouth with hers. My eyes widened, but the
back of my head was against Iason’s chest, so there was no way to pull back. My
only real choice was to bite her or let it happen, and I didn’t see the point
in biting her. 

Iola being a really good kisser had
nothing to do with my choice, I assure you. 

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

“It just doesn’t make
sense,” I said. It was the next morning, after a night of all three
of us fitfully trying to get as much sleep as we could, in between turns
watching in case Brea came back. Given that she could probably get in and
murder us all before whoever was on watch noticed her, and we all knew it,
neither job was exactly easy. 

“You expect sense from a
monster?” Iola asked, looking up from sharpening her sword. 

“I mean, sure, she’s
terrifyingly capricious, but she’s not stupid. She could have killed Hragulf
and used the stone to make do whatever it is she wants me to do, or her own
mental powers. Why play this game?”

“You’re assuming she wasn’t
lying about wanting your service,” Iola said.

“Sure, but if she doesn’t need
one of us for something, why not kill us outright?”

“Vampires are known for
playing with their food,” said Iason. 

I sighed and nodded. He was probably
right, but something didn’t quite fit. Oh well, worry about that later.
In the meantime, there was plenty to do. “That power of hers, moving blood
and people around. What was it you called it?”

“Hematokinesis,” said
Iola. 

“Right,” I replied.
“Never heard of it, but from the name… some kind of blood magic?”
Iola nodded, and I grinned. “Good. Then we might be able to do something
about it.”

While I worked on that, Iola and
Iason gathered wood and carved some stakes. They probably wouldn’t do any good,
but if somehow all the iron-hard flesh and protective magic around Brea’s heart
were disrupted, plunging a stake in might be enough to slow her down. Plus I
had some ideas on ways to make them a little more effective.

After I finished working on warding
us against blood magic and all our other preparations, I pulled out The Rite
of Uncreation. It still scared me, and I still didn’t want to do it, but…
in a last-ditch emergency, between all of us getting killed by Brea and the
risk of all of us plus Brea getting killed by the spell, I’d take the spell.
And seeing as I already knew how to cast it, the responsible thing to do was to
learn how to cast it as safely as possible. 

Yeah, yeah, me doing the responsible
thing, I know. Joke all you like, I’m not stupid. For all the times I set
people on fire, I never set anyone or anything on fire I didn’t mean to. 

Well, not often. 

As the sun set, Brea walked into our
camp. “Your decision, Lemma?” she asked. 

I responded by launching a stake at
her with as much wind and force magic as I could get behind it.

It bounced off her chest, and she
laughed. Iason leaped out of the undergrowth, swinging his sword at her.

Brea casually flicked a wrist to
send him flying with her hematokinesis. “Honestly,” she said.
“Did you really think that would woaaaarrrggghh!” Iason’s blow caught
her on the wrist and visibly dug in about an inch. The sword began to glow a
dull red as it soaked up magic, and Brea shrieked in rage and pain as she
pulled her arm back. Her hand flopped loose for a moment, but rapidly
reattached itself and healed.

“You’ve found a way to protect
your blood,” she said. “Clever little duckies. But I’m afraid this
does mean I’ll need to punish you.”

She stalked slowly toward Iason, who
held his ground as she approached, sword up in a defensive stance–right up until
she was almost upon him, when he threw it at her. Brea laughed and easily
dodged aside–which was when Iola caught it and tried to stab her. Brea only
barely managed to get catch the thrust–literally, on her palm. There was a
light sizzle, but nothing like the earlier reaction, and Brea swiped at Iola
with her free hand. Iola parried with the sword, and again there was that
sizzle, even a little smoke. The sword was hurting her, just not enough!

Iola and Brea exchanged a few
thrusts and parries, but then Brea managed to push Iola off balance. She
started to fall backwards–and tossed the sword back to Iason, who slashed at
Brea’s back with it, forcing her to spin around and confront him. 

Which meant her back was to me, Iola
was out of the way, and Iason was on the far side. I’d spent the whole time
they were fighting gathering as much fire magic as I could, packing it as tight
as it would go, and I launched all of it at her in a single fireball the size
of marble and bright enough to light up the clearing like day. 

It struck her in the back, and she
howled as it gouged a clear burn mark in her flesh, red and raw and blackened
at the edges. She whirled to face me, snarling, and Iason stabbed her right in
the wound. 

Her scream left my ears ringing, and
she spun violently, catching Iason and sending him sprawling. The sword
clattered to the ground, and Iola dove in to pick it up. She sprang to her feet
and swung overhand at Brea, who caught the blade in one hand and grabbed Iola’s
chin with the other. 

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

Not much, it turned out. Iason’s
sword could hurt anything that drew its life from magic, and Brea certainly
qualified, but with the amount of magic she had to play with, it would take a long
time for the sword to seriously affect her. Other than that, well, vampires are
creatures of darkness and death, so light, fire, and life are the weapons of
choice. But she pretty much ignored my fireball; I could pull bigger, but it
didn’t seem likely to do more than a flesh wound. And sunlight barely slowed
her down. Poking her with a stake seemed like a longshot, too–her skin was
probably stronger than Iason’s armor. 

What we needed was a powerful,
concentrated form of one of her weaknesses. A sun god could probably destroy
her, maybe a powerful fire demon or dragon breath. But none of us had any idea
where to find a god or a dragon, and even if we were willing to ask Rhoda’s
help, by the time we went all the way to Alba and back Brea could disappear
completely. 

As night fell and the burning castle
died down to dull red embers and ash, we still hadn’t come up with anything.
Except: “What about that spell?” Iason asked. “That
super-powerful spell, the one from the book Brea handled?" 

"It could kill her,” I
said. “No question." 

"Well then what’s the
problem?” Iola demanded. “Do you not know how to do it?" 

"I started to read the book a
while back,” I admitted. “But I didn’t get very far.” Because
it scared the fuck out of me, I didn’t say. 

“Well, how long would it take
you to learn to cast it?” Iason asked. 

“I already know how to cast
it,” I answered. The others stared at me, and I sighed. There was no way
of getting out without explaining it. “The Rite of Uncreation is one of
the simplest, easiest spells I’ve ever seen,” I said. “It takes
hardly any power, and a novice could learn it in an afternoon. The first page
of the book told me everything I needed to know in order to cast it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”
Iola looked confused and a little pissed. I guess I couldn’t really blame
her. 

“The rest of the book is the
problem,” I said. “It’s everything that can go wrong if you fuck up
casting it, in order from least bad to worst, and how to adjust the spell if
that starts happening. It starts with the caster being instantly killed.
I got as far as the spell draining all life force around it, turning every
living thing for a hundred miles to ash, and then I gave up. That was disaster
scenario twelve. There are a hundred and eight." 

"That’s…  bad,”
Iason agreed. “It can go that wrong?" 

"I barely scratched the surface
of how badly it can go wrong. Why do you think nobody casts it, if it’s that
easy and that powerful? Practically everyone who’s ever tried just killed
themselves, or themselves and their friends, or themselves and their friends
and their enemies and everyone else for a hundred miles… Nowadays they just
teach us that it exists and to stay the hell away from it, and now that I’ve
read some of it, I can see why!" 

"So… are you saying you can’t
use it? Or you won’t?” Iola asked. I hesitated. 

I… I don’t know. It could be worse
than she is.“ 

"I highly doubt that,”
said Brea.

We all whirled to face her. She’d
done it again, snuck up on me like it was nothing. Iason and Iola had just
enough time to drop their hands to their swords, and I was able to start
calling up power. Then Brea lifted her hand, and all three of us floated into
the air. My entire body went limp from the neck down. 

“I’ve come to offer
terms,” Brea said. “Terms!?” Iola practically screamed in fury.
“We’re not going to rest until your head is mounted on a stake, vampire!
You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

 Brea looked sharply at Iola.
“Hush. I wasn’t talking to you.”

 She turned back to me.
“Lemma. I will make this offer once: serve me and live. Defy me and
die.”

“Serve you? What the
fuck does that mean?”

Brea smiled. “Exactly what it
sounds like. As distasteful as your kind of magic is, we have a use for
it.”

We? “I don’t work for murderers!”

Brea  waved a hand
dismissively. “You work for Lemuria, don’t you? Even a  small empire
has killed far more people than the most prolific of my  kind. Which, I
must admit, could plausibly be me.”

Well…  okay, that wasn’t
completely wrong, but war and executions aren’t the  same as–okay, no,
not getting into philosophy with a vampire! “Those
 were my friends you killed!”

Brea examined her nails.
“Really? I’m sure Mira wasn’t. Can you name even one of the others?”

“…Those were Iola’s friends
you killed!”

Iola made a strangling noise, like
she was trying to speak but couldn’t. 

“True. But I spared her and her
brother. Haven’t you wondered why? After all, I have no need of them.”

…Oh. “Bargaining chips,”
I snarled. 

“Precisely.  I need you to
understand that I am serious. So: at nightfall tomorrow I  shall return
for your answer. If you refuse, your friends will suffer. I  shall return
again the next night, and if you refuse, your friends will  suffer more,
until they beg to die. The third night, if you refuse, you  will join
them.”

“You bi–” I started, but
was interrupted by my sudden plummet to the ground. By the time I was back on
my feet, she was gone. 

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!

It took a couple of hours to search
the castle. No survivors. I took my clothes, my gear, my books,  and a few
other things I thought might be useful, and then I did one last walk around the
place, lobbing fireballs here and there. Burying the girls would take forever,
and anyway I was only mostly sure they wouldn’t wake up hungry come
nightfall, so this was the best I could do for them. 

Then I set up camp just outside the
gate and waited. 

Iola was the first to reach me.
“Lemma!” she shouted when she saw me. “What’s happening!?”
I could see Iason puffing up the hill behind her; good, so he’d found
her. 

Iola grabbed me by the shoulders and
shook me. “What happened!? Where is everyone? What did you do!?" 

Hey, hold on now. I wouldn’t just
burn down the castle with everyone inside! I mean, not unless I was really,
really mad… Okay, fine, maybe it wasn’t a completely unreasonable
conclusion to jump to. "Calm down, Iola,” I said. “I didn’t kill
anyone." 

Iola sagged with relief. "So
everyone is safe? Where are they? What happened to that Hragulf
monster?" 

Fuck. This was not going to be fun.
It would require tact and care. "Well… no. Everyone’s dead. I
just didn’t kill anyone." 

What? You’ve been following along
this long, what did you expect? 

Yeah, okay, I knew it was the wrong
thing to say as soon as I said it. My main clue was Iola trying to strangle me.
Fortunately, Iason pulled her off, and I was able to explain. 

"You’re sure?” Iason asked
when I was done. “I just can’t… Brea, a vampire, this whole
time?" 

Iola shook her head, tears in her
eyes, but she blinked them away. When she looked at me next, they were as
steely as Iason’s sword. "Draining half a dozen people at once without
touching them, throwing a woman in full armor…” She turned to Iason.
“Hematokinesis?" 

He nodded. "I’ve heard stories
of that, but only the really powerful, skilled, old nobles can do
it." 

Iola turned back to me. "You’re
sure the courtyard was in full daylight? It wasn’t overcast or in
shadow?" 

I shook my head. "It was well
after sunup, and there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky all day." 

"Shit,” said Iola.
“To be that powerful even in full sunlight…" 

Iason sighed. "We’re talking really
old and powerful, aren’t we?" 

It made sense. Brea had managed to
keep her power completely hidden from my senses, not dropped a hint of being
nonhuman even with monster experts like Iason and Iola around, and picked up a
book as powerful as The Rite of Uncreation without so much as a wince.
She couldn’t just be any old vamp.

"So… what do we do now?”
I asked. 

Iola adjusted her sword. “We
find her and kill her." 

"Whoa whoa whoa,” said
Iason. “Listen, I hate vampires as much as you do, but… Lemma and I were
barely able to beat a much weaker vampire. And she knows us! We
can’t just… stroll up to her and stab her! I don’t even know if we have any
weapons that could hurt her!" 

"It doesn’t matter,” Iola
retorted. “My friends are dead! Kara, Morwena, Gwennedh, hell, even Mira
didn’t deserve this! I should have been there to protect them, and I wasn’t.
The least I could do is avenge them." 

"Hey, I get it,” I said.
 "But Iason’s right. It won’t do any good charging up and getting
killed. We need something that can hurt her. We’re not letting her
getting away with this, we’re just going to be smart about it. Right,
Iason?“

Iason sighed and nodded. "What
kind of monster slayer would I be if I let one just walk away after
this?" 

"Right. So what’ve we
got?" 

---

Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!