— Freldearnan Vestirgil, “A History of Ageria: Post Rupture,” page 255
Arthur leaned against the wall of the boiler room, watching as a silver-eyed mechanic worked on one of the two hulking, industrial-grade hospital boilers. They were massive, cylindrical beasts, lying on their sides like sleeping giants on thick steel beds. Pipes sprouted from every surface, snaking across the walls and ceiling like the tentacles of a monster. The pipes split off in different directions: some fed into a utility tunnel to the left, and others wormed their way back toward the bath chamber.
For the better part of a week, the boilers had been malfunctioning, and they were unable to carry heat throughout the hospital, much less the asylum ward beneath it, which Draven had been very adamantly infuriated by. Arthur wasn’t much of a mechanic, and though he tried his best to repair it, it was hopeless. Thankfully, one of their patients was, and he was swiftly turned and brought in to help. He wasn’t as resistant as Arthur had expected, but then again, few men were when they were promised eternal life and a hoard of naked women always willing to have sex.
The door to the boiler room opened, and one of the succubi shuffled in: Lyssara. She was dressed no differently than any of her sisters. A skin-tight uniform that was easy to slip in and out of. Her platinum blond hair was longer than usual, reaching her waist, and her slitted pupils quickly turned normal as she walked up to Arthur.
“How are things coming along, Eldric?” she asked with a seductive slur.
Arthur crossed his arms. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, my sisters are getting restless. They haven’t had a warm bath in a week, and they’re getting desperate.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You’re standing here.”
“I got someone to work on it.”
Lyssara smirked. “If I had known you were looking for someone to fix your pipes—”
“Don’t.”
She giggled.
Arthur looked to the silver-eyed mechanic. “Can you fix it?”
The mechanic snorted, tightening the final bolt before sitting back on his heels. “I just did,” he said, tossing the wrench into his open toolbox. He wiped his hands on a filthy rag, smearing grease across his pale skin. “But listen to me. Keep an eye on this thing. Don’t overheat these things again. These old boilers were built back when the dwarves were still using highly combustible coal. I don’t know what was in the ore, but it burned hotter than they expected, and these old models are a disaster waiting to happen. Push them too far, and…” He trailed off, jerking a thumb toward the ceiling.
Arthur frowned. “How hot would they have to get?”
“Very,” the mechanic said bluntly. “Hot enough to blow the roof off this whole damn hospital.”
“Wouldn’t be good for the patients, then,” Arthur remarked.
“I’d be more worried about all of us down here,” the mechanic added. “We’d be buried beneath the rubble.”
Arthur nodded. “I’ll be sure to let the staff know not to tamper with it further.”
“As for our agreement?”
“I’m sure Lyssara can show you the way.”
Lyssara frowned. “I was hoping to talk with you for a second. In private.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine.” He looked back at the mechanic. “Just ask any of the succubi out there. They’ll change to your liking.”
The mechanic nodded and marched out, leaving the two alone in the boiler room.
Arthur pushed off the wall, standing slightly taller than the only modest succubus in the colony. “What is it?”
“You know, I’ve watched men and women come and go from this place for. Most break within a month. Some last a season if they’re stubborn. But very few manage a year before Lord Draven’s temper, or the hunger of my sisters, finally cracks them.” She tilted her head. “Yet here you stand. A full year at his right hand, still breathing. Still… untouched.”
Arthur arched a brow. “I’m not untouched. I’m married.”
She laughed. “Exactly. That makes it all the more remarkable.” She reached out and teasingly ran her fingers along the sleeve of his coat. “My sisters talk about you endlessly, you know. And I can’t blame them. You’re the one who has kept this place afloat and never once takes what we offer so freely. We are… grateful. More than grateful. I am grateful.”
He caught her wrist and moved her hand away. “If you want to thank someone, thank Selene too. She has put just as much effort into this place as I have.”
“You could have any of us, any night, in any way you wished. We would count it a privilege. Yet you both refuse. Every time. It’s intoxicating, in its own way.”
Arthur folded his arms again. “I made vows, Lyssara. I intend to keep them. Selene feels the same.”
“Vows,” she repeated. “Such a mortal thing. If you will not offer a reward for our gratitude, then let me offer something else. A debt. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, one favor, no questions, no hesitation. Just from me.”
“It's taken you this long to offer?”
Lyssara smirked with delight.
“Fine.”
“Oh, I do like binding myself to dangerous men.”
Arthur moved toward the valve wheels that fed the bath chambers. “Now, return to your work and help your sisters with the patients. The water will be hot within the hour, and General Marcellus is due back from Brozegr?d by dawn.”
Lyssara laughed. “As my lord commands,” she purred and sauntered out of the boiler room.
The bath chamber was quite larger than one would expect.
The massive chamber was lined with tubs. Steam clouded the air, and the chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling cast a soft amber glow. Succubi and vampires alike were lounging, water sloshing around as a few were handsy with each other. Dominating the center of the chamber, though, was the massive, in-ground tub brimming with blood so rich that it gleamed like liquid rubies. Many of the succubi were distracted, though by what was hanging above it, and many perched on the edges, dipping their legs into the blood as they eyed the naked man bound by his wrists and ankles. Blood dripped steadily from gashes along his arms and torso, pooling into the bath below. His wrists and ankles were raw where the chains had bitten into his skin, and his head lolled forward, revealing the bruised and battered remains of a face barely capable of breathing. Arthur recognized him as a patient from the asylum wing who had been here for some time.
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Reclining against the edge of the tub was Draven. Blood soaked his skin up to his collarbone.
After a year of healing, his face was still a ghastly sight, like melted wax frozen over. Sitting across from him was General Marcellus, who, a few minutes ago, arrived with his team and joined Draven in the bloodbath. Arthur had only been ordered to stand by in case Draven needed anything. Clara had come in with food and was passing out small plates on the edge of the tub for the vampires.
“—and that was the last district we searched, my lord,” General Marcellus explained. His soldiers kept quiet, soaking in the blood while the succubi slowly encroached on them.
Draven had remained quiet as he listened to the report. Empty-handed, to summarize it. After a few moments of silence, he sat up. “Once, before the previous Conduit had died, I was granted but a single sip of their blood. Just a taste, mind you, from Queen Lockhart’s gilded chalice. Words fail to capture the experience. It was as if the essence of life itself had been distilled into a single drop, rich and heady and brimming with power. A rush of strength, vitality, euphoria. Even the finest royal blood pales in comparison. It was… intoxicating.”
“It sounds exquisite, my lord,” General Marcellus replied.
“More than exquisite. Divine. And yet, alas, it was fleeting. The conduit perished, their blood spilled, and my hopes of savoring such perfection again dashed.” He gestured to the suspended man. “And now, once more, I am denied. You bring me no Conduit, no nectar to quench my thirst. No remedy to heal my visage. And all I have now is merely this. The filthy blood of a homeless vagabond, stupid enough to walk through our doors. Why is that, General Marcellus?”
General Marcellus shifted slightly. “Brozegr?d was a risk we were willing to take, my lord. Word of the Raven passed through the city, but she had not been spotted there in many years, according to some. If she were there, she was invisible to us. But my men are vigilant and strong. If she were in that city, we would have found her.”
“And yet, you return empty-handed. Tell me, General Marcellus, how does one call failure progress?”
“The city was vast,” General Marcellus said carefully. “But it has been crossed off our list. With your permission, the search will extend beyond the major cities.”
Draven leaned back. “You need not my permission; you must simply do. Burns from holy water do not so easily heal. There is only one true remedy for my face.” He paused. “And it is not simply vanity that drives me.”
“And I swear, we will find her, my lord.” He gestured to one of the soldiers. “This one here joined our team not too long ago. He was once a merchant from the fields beyond Peccatum. He knows the lands there well, and I plan on continuing the search there. We’d start with the forests and towns near Serenity Gardens.”
“I’m no stranger to tracking folk down,” the vampire said, “but I’ll need a little more on this lady we’re looking for.”
General Marcellus let out a short chuckle. “Call her whatever you like. Whore. Cunt. Bitch. But ‘lady’ she is not. She is a plague upon us all. A disease, festering, unworthy of the powers she has been bestowed. She took something from Lord Draven, and I trust you understand, we intend to take it back.”
“A girl, to be precise,” Draven said. “A girl who holds the key to more than you could fathom. But when you find this woman… bring them both back to me alive. No exceptions.”
One of the vampires frowned, skepticism crossing his face. “It’d be easier to kill her and take the girl.”
“You’d be courting disaster. By Queen Lockhart’s decree, only she may end the life of Whilimina. They share a history, you see. Our dear Queen is infertile, and she desired a child. She spent a millennium searching for a child of her own, bedding every vampire in the castle, on Alnwick Island, and elsewhere. Yet, nature proved cruel, as it often does. No heirs came. After centuries, she abandoned hope and sent out a search party for a child to claim as her own. She was brought two. Twins. She raised them, though they remained mortal for a time. No vampire could touch them. She adored Lucette, but Whilimina was a different story.”
General Marcellus chuckled. “I remember the first time I saw her. She was naked, strung up in the blood farms by her feet, arms bound behind her back like a helpless animal. Believe me when I tell you I’ve never seen an uglier whore in my life. Her breasts were sagging toward her swollen face, her body was covered in welts from the lashes, and blood was dripping from between her thighs. A truly gruesome sight she was. Looked like a damn cutting board. I had the privilege of watching the Queen play with her once. She took a knife to her chest and pressed hot iron into her soles. Gave her a chance to flee once, but her nails tore off from scraping against the stone floors.”
“What did she do to deserve such a fate?” one of the vampires asked.
“Nothing,” Draven explained. “Nothing at all. You see, our Queen does not desire an empire, nor dominion over the land. No. She simply delights in torment. In pain. In the game itself. She thrives on it, like a parasite feasting on misery. She seeks no greater cause than to watch Ageria burn. But there is only one who stands as a threat to her vision. The Conduit.”
“We will set out once we have rested,” General Marcellus. “By the morrow, we will depart for Forest’s Edge and move to Serenity Gardens from there.”
“Be cautious, General Marcellus. You know the danger that region possesses.” Draven rose from the blood-filled pool, his naked body soaked and glistening with the dark, crimson liquid that clung to him like a second skin. Arthur handed him a robe, and he wrapped himself in it. The blood soaked into Draven’s skin.
“I do not fear that town. They are nothing more than cowards too afraid to face us.”
“I suppose you’ll find out,” he said, and turned to leave. “Do enjoy your evening. There is no telling how long our boilers will work.” As he walked out of the bath chamber, leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints and droplets, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted. The succubi giggled seductively as they slid gracefully into the blood-filled pool. One succubus slid atop a vampire and pressed against him. Two more reached for the man restrained above the pool. Their nails stretched like talons, and they tore through his flesh like wet paper. The man’s body gave a violent crack, as his bones could no longer withstand the savage force. The half-ripped corpse split open down the center, and his intestines spilled out into the pool. Blood sprayed across the room, and the succubi reveled in it. One of the creatures grabbed the man’s disembodied torso, lifting it effortlessly as if it were no heavier than a sack of feathers. Her face contorted, her jaw unhinged, her skull split open like an egg. Rows of needle-like teeth sprouted from her insides as a guttural, lustful groan escaped her gaping throat. The succubus lowered her face to the man’s severed head and, with one bite, engulfed it. The skull shattered like brittle wood. Chunks of the man’s brain spilled out the sides of her mouth, dripping onto her chin, staining her pale skin with dark, oozing blood. Another succubus snatched a chunk of the man’s brain from the pool, ravenously devouring it.
Arthur watched beside Clara as the room erupted in a cacophony of carnal indulgence. They followed Draven out into the hall, but he stopped them before they could get far.
“You two are relieved, for now,” he said as he walked down the central hallway of the restricted ward. “I believe you both deserve some rest after your hard work this week. Enjoy your evening as well.”
Arthur and Clara simply looked at each other, skeptically. It wasn’t often Draven offered them a night to themselves. Perhaps they had curried enough favor with him to warrant it? For whatever reason, they remained cautious and returned to their chambers. After all, they had work that needed to be done. Over the last year, Xeleria had been keeping to her word, forcing them to help her spread the succubi nest to other dwellings in Outer Peccatum. It often involved smuggling the succubi into brothels and other seedy establishments. Despite the clear success of having the nest in a hospital, Xeleria wasn’t the most forward-thinking on this matter. Regardless, they helped. If the nest was uncovered, so be it. It was no threat to them. So long as they kept up with her demands, they would be safe.
Right?
They moved through the hospital unseen.
Draped entirely in black, they blended seamlessly with the darkness around them. Evening had fallen, and it worked in their favor. The long shadow shifted from one dark corner to another, weaving past succubi and vampire alike without so much as a glance in their direction. It was easy to find the chamber they were looking for: Draven’s.
They stood at the center of the room, eyeing the documents and ledgers across his desk, and the shattered mirror that hung before his bed. Expensive and irreplaceable that was. No wonder he hadn’t been answering her calls. Judging by the mess of his bed and the smell of sex, he has been quite busy. Just not with his job. At least, that’s what she first thought. Across his desk was a rolled map of Ageria’s central continent. There were markings, trails, patterns he was trying to connect.
The door to the chamber swung open, and a warm light flooded from the corridor. They slipped into the shadows as Draven entered. He walked to his wardrobe, shrugged off his robe, then stopped. Slowly, his gaze turned toward the desk, and the map slightly unrolled. He grinned. “You’re getting better.”
No response. Even if he could see in the dark, they were nearly one with it.
“I was beginning to wonder when you’d deem it worthy to show yourself again. Tell me, what brings you slithering out of the shadows tonight?”
They remained silent and unmoving. Draven’s eyes finally landed on them. He only stared back, matching their stillness. “Perhaps you’d prefer to dress first,” said the figure, with a woman’s voice. “Unless you’re planning to negotiate naked.”
Draven let out a dry chuckle and dressed slowly into something more fitting. “Why? You’ve seen all there is to see. And you didn’t mind it then.”
“I didn’t travel halfway across the continent to play games with you.”
Draven closed the distance between them. His fingers skimmed her cheek, hooking the soft fabric of her mask and sliding it down to reveal the smooth, pale skin beneath. The woman didn’t move and allowed him to tug her hood off, letting her snow-white hair cascade onto her shoulders like silver waterfalls. Draven changed his tone, letting it drip like velvet, with every word rolling off his tongue. “Then praytell, why are you here, Lucette?”
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