Chapter 14

Bide within the Law you must, in perfect Love and perfect Trust

– The Wiccan Rede

"This way," Mal did not lead us out to the car park but rather opened another door which was clearly marked "Staff" in gold against the wood.

"Where are we going? Are we even allowed back here?" I protested as the door shut behind us.

The roof overhead was steepled and made of stained glass, so the hallway was lit in a rainbow of dull colour. Combined with the dark wood paneling on the walls and the many heavy-framed paintings of disapproving saints, it was a very intimidating space. I pulled back against Mal's hold, reluctant to trespass further, but he pulled me in laughing.

The ghost Charity Vossen fled down the hallway away from the double doors towards which Mal was leading me. I turned to the side to avoid her running through me and saw that Mal did the same.

"You see them too," I stared at him in shock.

His grin was wryly lopsided. "Of course. It's my job, so to speak. A bit like your friend, though normally he isn't quite so hands-on, so I wonder what brought him to the edge of the veil? You perhaps? A relative of yours?" He added gesturing with his head to where Charity's ghost had disappeared through another door.

"Yes," I was unnerved by the fear on her face. I could imagine what she fled from and hoped that I would not be treated to a ghostly re-enactment. "I normally see her in town where she died."

"Fascinating," he was watching my face when I looked back at him, much like how Ender seemed to watch me when I wasn't looking, as if trying to puzzle me out. "The veil is thin around you."

"I had this conversation last night," and I was uncomfortable rehashing it with Mal.

"Did you now?" His eyes lit with fire and his smile turned mischievous. He caught my hand with his and stepped backward towards the doors. "Come on, Nyx. To answer your question, we're doing a little school tour. The church. And of course, we're allowed to be here… On Sundays," he added as he opened the door and glanced within. "Shh," he put his finger to his lips.

"Mal," I sighed heavily as he pulled me into the church. I did not want to get into trouble. It might not matter to him, but it did to me. However, my protestations fell from my lips as I looked around the echoing chamber. It was larger than the old church in Mortensby, and I imagined that the wealthier families would make the weekly trek to this church rather than rub shoulders with the convicts and poorer families of the town.

Like the house, no expense had been spared. As with the hallway, the ceiling here was stained glass, although the arched windows at the head of the room were not. The floor was parquet, intricately laid in contrasting wood, the pattern weaving and winding, and had been polished so that the light from the stained glass shimmered over the surface.

The wall to my left had a widow's balcony - boxed to give the bereaved privacy whilst in mourning. The pews flanked the central aisle, and we wandered down it towards the sermon stairs. There were two curved stairs, leading first to the balcony where the bishop would have stood to deliver his sermon. Behind that balcony, was the tiered choir stand.

"It's not the church that blesses the people, but the people that bless the church, and the people of Mortensby really blessed this one, didn't they?" Mal observed wryly. "Not always willingly."

"No, not willingly," I agreed softly. I did not touch the gleaming wood that was polished satin smooth both by attentive carers and by centuries of hands. This was not a place where a Vossen witch was safe instinct told me, an echo perhaps of Charity's rape within these walls, and I almost felt that to touch would leave a taint on my skin like a layer of grease. "The social pressure was intense to give and give generously to the church. And the donation box was such a public affair, that many families gave more than they could afford in order not to look ungodly in the eyes of their neighbors, especially during times of trouble within the area…"

"Like when they brought in the witch hunters," Mal nodded. He did not have a compunction about touching, running his hands along the pews and inspecting his fingers for dust, before delving them into the pew pockets, drawing up an old coin from one, which he pocketed, and a ring from another, which he held up to the light, lips pursed as he evaluated the stone, before slipping it onto his little finger.

"Yes…" My voice was a murmur. "Like when they brought in the witch hunters."

He crossed to the screened ground level of the widow's balcony, opening a door hidden within the elaborate woodwork. "Coming?" He had stepped into the dark within before I could answer.

"Damn it, Mal," I had no choice but to follow him, and drew the door closed behind me so that if anyone came into the church, they would not investigate it being left open.

The light within the close quarters of the box was dappled by the Fleur de Lis pattern in the wood.

"This is actually quite romantic," Mal caught me up against him so that my back was against his chest. "I wonder if all they did in these little boxes while the priest preached was watch and pray, or if," his lips brushed the corner of my jaw and his palms stroked down to my thighs, his fingers gathering up the fabric of my skirt. "They fucked."

"Mal…" I knew I needed him to stop, and yet… I wanted him to not stop.

"Pretend you're a widow, and I am your secret lover, meeting you in the darkness, with the pure and penitent just on the other side of the screen and the priest's sermon ringing out in strident tones." His body pressed me forward so that I braced my hands against the shelf where the widow would have rested her bible within the fall of the light through the screens.

I felt my underwear slip down to my knees. My heart was a wicked drumbeat in my ears as his fingers caressed over my clit. Just as I sagged and surrendered to his caress, he turned me suddenly and lifted me, sitting me on the shelf and I gasped in surprise. The light caught on the red silk of his hair, the fire in his eyes, and the flash of white teeth as he grinned, and then he sank to his knees and tugged my hips towards him.

I threw my head back as his tongue stroked over my cunt. Where Ender's touch was cool, Mal's was overly hot, scorching my flesh, and where Ender was gentle, Mal was rough, mauling my clit ruthlessly with tongue and teeth so that my fingers curved over the edge of the shelf clinging on for dear life and I came… and came… and came.

"Hmm," he rose to his feet, stepping in to press my thighs wider with his hips, and laughed, his nose brushing mine and his eyes dancing like the pits of Hell. "The seed of life from the Lord of Death mellowed by the innocent sweet cunt of a mortal witch is a vintage I find I enjoy. Shall I send him something back?" He ground his groin against me, letting me feel the hard throb of his cock contained within.

"Mal…" I ached for him to thrust into me but knew that Ender would not like it – and that was precisely why Mal was seducing me. There was a heavy fogginess to my desire. The feeling was similar to that odd intoxication at the party, and I wondered if Mal had used magic to coerce me…

A door opened and someone walked into the church and began to move through the pews, placing prayer books.

"Shh," Mal whispered grinning. He leaned forward until his lips were against my ear. "If you do not consent, it's not your fault if I seduce you. You could not cry out because our trespass would be revealed, and you would get into trouble and possibly lose your scholarship. And so…" He reached between us and released his cock from his chinos. "Just close your eyes and let me have my wicked, wicked way with you…"

I did not know whether he offered me a way of absolving myself of cheating on Ender, or whether he was dirty talking and describing a fantasy, such as he had about the widow and her lover - but it was already too late because his description had become reality, and his hips arched into me, his hands on my arse pulling me towards him so that his cock found my entrance and breached into a cunt made slick by cunnilingus.

He felt so good. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from moaning out aloud, and my grip tightened on the edge of the shelf to stop myself from gripping onto him and pulling him tighter. I didn't have to, he pulled my hips off the edge of the shelf and leaned over me so that I bowed back. I lifted my face, closing my eyes, awash with pleasure and guilt, and trying not to worsen the situation through active participation. He took advantage of my exposed throat, and he kissed it with a vampiric hunger.

His breath panted out against my sensitized skin in rhythm with the hard thrust of his hips into me, each thrust seeming to seek to drive him deeper and deeper within me, grinding my clit between us, so that I was caught on the edge of another orgasm.

The little widow's balcony was breathlessly hot, and my clothing clung to my skin with sweat. I kept my eyes closed and yet, through my lids, I seemed to catch glimpses of a creature of fire, horns, and snarling teeth, as if in the darkness of my own skull, with my eyes blinded to the outside world, what he was could not be denied.

He crushed his mouth to mine, smothering my cries as I came, and I felt him jerk within me as he followed, the shelf groaning under the force of our bodies against it. His forehead rested against mine, and his eyes were closed as he recovered himself, panting. A strand of red silk clung to his eyelashes, and when I reached up to brush it away, his eyes opened, the entire eye red liquid fire complete with glittering sparks, as if I gazed into the center of a volcano.

He blinked, and the flames were gone.

For a long moment we stared at each other, and then he grinned. "Damn it, Nyx," he said softly. "Now you've gone and complicated things."

"Shh," I whispered, covering his mouth with my hand, and glancing over my shoulder into the church, not wanting to be discovered.

He shook with laughter and eased back, his cock sliding free of the hold of my cunt wetly. As he lifted me down onto my own two feet, I felt the slide of cum begin down my thighs, and wondered why the romance books the aunts loved to read never mentioned such things.

"We are alone again," he told me as he did up his fly, and stooped, retrieving my panties from the floor, and handed them to me. "You need not fear discovery. By humans at least. Your other lover will know…" There was a hint of darkness in his voice. "But you do not belong to him. Yet. Never, if I have my way," he flashed me a sharp white grin and opened the door, flooding the little room with light.

I hastily pulled on my underwear under my skirt and smoothed my hands over my clothing and hair as I followed him out into the church. He crossed to another door hidden in the decorative woodwork, near the base of the sermon stairs. It opened into a small antechamber, and that out into daylight.

I stood blinking away the haloes in my vision, and Mal took my hand, pulling me forward and through a little walled garden, out through a vine-covered gate, and into the student car park. Our rushed exit from the church, taking two steps for every one of his, left me breathless and stumbling. I almost fell into Xander, who caught me by my shoulders, steadying me.

"Woah, there," he said. "What's the rush, Elenyx? We're just heading to town," he glanced over his shoulder to where a group of students had come to a standstill, interrupting their conversations. "Laurie thinks he can beat Dawson at pool. Come down, have some shots, and watch the slaughter."

The group laughed at the last, from which I gathered that Dawson was somewhat of an expert player and Laurie was overreaching.

"Sure, why not?" Mal joined us. "I'll drive, if anyone wants a lift."

His offer was cheerfully accepted, and Xander, Laurie, Dawson, and a girl named Fleur all piled into Mal's tiny Porsche, pushing the seating to its limits. I somehow ended up on Xander's lap as there were not enough seats to go around.

"So, how come you're not using the pool tables in the recreational center?" Mal asked cheerfully as he reversed the car out of the parking spot.

"Ah, the pool tables at the recreational center are out of service," Dawson replied with a laugh. "A different type of pool and queue competition took place late last night, and the playing surface - "

"Is pregnant," Laurie snickered.

"Might as well be," Fleur sneered. "The amount of cum spilled on it. Filthy pigs, boys," she said to me. "They'll hop on and ride anything and anyone if it will get them off."

"I was looking for you the other night," Xander said quietly as the conversation between the other four grew lewd and loud. "Where did you disappear off to?"

"I went home," I said, truthfully, for Ender had taken me there. "The party was a bit… much for me."

"Yeah, it gets crazy," he agreed his voice holding his smile. His hand covered where mine rested on my thigh, his fingers longer than the skirt, so the tips rested on my skin. Beneath my arse, I could feel the throb of his cock, and knew that it turned him on to have me sitting on his lap. "I'm sorry. I tried to watch out for you…"

"I thought you were advertising me as a virgin so that you and your buddies could roofie my drink?" I replied tartly.

"What?" He half laughed his denial. "Who said that to you?"

"My drink was spiked, and one of the guys you signaled on the way in tried to shove a pill down my throat with his tongue."

"No…" He protested. "No…"

"V for virgin?" I held up my fingers making the gesture he had made.

"My ball," Fleur saw the gesture. "Are you talking about football?"

"Not really," Xander muttered. "Fuck."

A football signal, between team members. My ball. He had been signaling to his friends "my ball" about me, rather than "virgin". I reviewed the night in my head. Had he been interested in me, claiming me as his date to the party, and I, with a Vossens' suspicion of men, thought that he was being a creep?

"Maybe…" I was embarrassed and apologetic. "Maybe I misunderstood."

"Just a little," Xander said quietly. "But I understand why. Things get a bit wild at these parties."

"I'm sorry for misinterpreting." I felt terrible.

"It's no big deal," he decided. "We'll start over. Let me buy you a drink?"

I glanced at Mal and shrugged awkwardly. "I'm sort of seeing someone." Two someones, I added ruefully to myself. Mal had been understating it when he said that I had made things complicated.

"Exclusive?" Xander asked.

"Not… really," I admitted.

"Well, then, why not?" He asked cheerfully. "If it's not exclusive, no harm, no foul."

"I guess…" I didn't want to lead him on, but it was also very flattering that he was interested in me, especially considering my misunderstanding of his intentions at the party. Boys like Alexander St Astor the Third didn't ask Vossen women out on dates, which was pretty much what he had done.

"Great," he seemed relieved.

"Here we are!" Mal announced cheerfully as he pulled up before the smaller of the two Mortensby bars. This was the original establishment in town and had been built near the railway to lure workmen traveling by train to stop by for a drink before returning home after a long day at work. A second, higher class, tavern had been established toward the center of town and operated a gaming room, a dining room, a wine bar as well as a sports bar.

This bar had remained basic - one room that curved in an L around the bar, and several small rooms available on the second story that were charged by the hour.

Mal's Porsche pulled up between a row of motorbikes, and a collection of beaten-up work trucks. The men that loitered outside, smoking and admiring each other's bikes, looked up as we piled out of the Porsche.

One laughed and elbowed his friend. "Fresh meat has arrived."

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," I said to Xander.

"Nonsense," Mal said cheerfully as he opened the door to the bar. "Relax, Nyx. No harm will come to you here."

"We come here all the time," Xander told me under his breath as we followed Mal into the bar. I blinked as my eyes transitioned from the bright sunlight outside to the dimly lit interior. It smelled of old alcohol, smoke, and sweat. Considering the time of the day it was busy, with the pool table already in use, and most of the seats at the bar filled.

All of the patrons were men. By instinct Fleur and I drew closer together as the men went to the bar to order.

"You are local?" Fleur tried to start a conversation.

"Yes. My family has been in Mortensby from the very beginning," I replied. "I am on scholarship."

"Ah. My mother, she re-married," Fleur said, her eyes on Dawson. "My new stepfather is a politician. He says that in this country, anyone who wants to be anyone must attend Pinegrove. It is where friendships are made that ensure business success, and that the right people marry the right people. He wants that for me, although I am not his blood."

"You are starting this year, too?" I asked her, hoping that this experience might at least leave me with one friend at the school.

"Yes. Modern languages."

"Oh. We might be in some of the same classes. Comparative literature," I explained.

"Ah. Who is your tutor?" She seemed as pleased as I to make the friendship. We were both outsiders in a way.

"Dean Ashbourne," I admitted.

"Seriously?" She raised her eyebrows. At the bar, the four men were taking shots and talking loudly. They seemed to have forgotten us. "That could either be a good thing or a bad one."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed. "Mal's in the same tutor group."

"He's cute," she said with appreciation. "Like, seriously good-looking. Unusual looking too with that hair. I've never seen someone with quite that shade of red."

I could guess why that was. "I know. He is… really cute."

"Xander has a thing for you, eh?" She added. "Two boys fighting over you."

Three, I corrected. Was this the start of the Vossen romantic tragedy that I knew lay on the horizon? "I guess," I said grimly. "That's only ever good in romances, though," I told her. "In real life, someone always ends up being hurt." And usually, that was the Vossen woman involved.

"Champagne?" Xander had left the bar and presented us each with a glass.

"Thanks," we echoed each other, but he was already returning to the bar.

"Technically," Fleur said conversationally. "It's not champagne unless it comes from Champagne. This is probably…" She took a sip. "Yes, definitely. This is just a sparkling white wine from somewhere else."

"You can tell that from a sip of champagne?" I asked her. "Wine," I corrected. "Sparkling wine."

She laughed under her breath. "It's a talent of mine. My mother's family are winemakers."

The men, grasping beers and shot glasses, peeled away from the bar to one of the standing tables near the pool table, making it clear to those playing that they intended to take over. As Fleur and I headed over to join them, a man leaving the toilets almost walked into us, and our eyes met.

I felt a cold chill across my skin.

"You again," Warren sneered down at me. "You Vossens are like bad smells. I'm still waiting," he gripped my upper arm and pulled me towards him. "I'm still waiting for your fucking aunts to tell me where the fuck my wife is."

"Excuse me," Xander pushed Fleur back and rose to every inch of his six-plus feet. Dawson and Laurie flanked him. "Let her go."

Warren ran his eye over the three men. Although the three young men were fit and tall, Warren was a big man and had the build of someone who laboured for a living. He had the confidence of a man who knew his strength and wasn't new to using it to cause others pain.

"You're going to let her go," Mal said quietly.

Warren made a sound of contempt as he turned his gaze, and then his expression changed. Whatever he saw in Mal's eyes - it scared him. "Tell your fucking aunts that this isn't done," Warren said darkly but released my arm, and stepped around our group, leaving the bar.

"Well," Mal stroked his hands over my head, smoothing my hair, before running his palms over my shoulders and upper arms. "That was a bit of fun. You have a singular skill, Nyx, of coming to the attention of the wrong type of man, don't you?"