16 comments/ 78325 views/ 61 favorites The Best Medicine Ch. 01 By: Evil Alpaca This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex. While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game. The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful. Proofread by "Cristalball" --------- ------------------ "You are being asinine," the Shepherd said, irritated beyond reason with his self-righteous nephew. "The Unveiling is moving forward, and the elves cannot afford to hide out any longer. Humans are encroaching further and further into the forests --" "Do not presume to tell me what is happening in the world," King Tarrin Ralisen replied coolly. "The humans are savages. There are reasons why we magical races have distanced ourselves from them." The Shepherd found himself wishing again that his oldest son and his son's wife had not died all those years ago, leaving this clown, the Shepherd's other son, in charge of the elves. About a year earlier, the Tribunal, an organization of the most powerful representatives of each of the magical races, had announced that the werewolves, vampires, elves, and all other magical races would announce their presence to the human world. The world had become too small, especially now that the Greater Dragons were returning after being "extinct" for thousands upon thousands of years. Not all of the magical races were happy about the decision, and a group of elves were amongst the most ardent opposition to the plan. The group was relatively small and certainly did not represent the opinions of the majority of elves, but they did consist of a number of very powerful members of the elvish community, including many of the remaining nobility up to and including the king. Many of the elves wanted to disband the monarchy entirely after becoming familiar with modern democracies, but structures like that were slow to change. "The humans are no better or worse than we are in regards to savagery. They may not have magic as a race, but they can breed and they can think and they develop technologies that we can't. We cannot exist apart from them any longer, and the Elvish Crown cannot exist in a vacuum." "We have never needed the other races, and we can take care of ourselves. It is you and the Tribunal who fills our peoples' heads with your doomsday talk and nonsense that has brought us to this disastrous decision." "So will the Elvish Crown directly rebel against the Tribunal?" the Shepherd asked meaningfully. Instantly, King Tarrin was on guard. The old monarchies still had a great deal of power, but to openly defy the Tribunal was effectively a death sentence. "No, but we have every right to inform our people of the truth." "If you were really interested in 'informing of the truth,' you'd tell me where my granddaughter is. Whatever lies you have been filling her head with --" "She is of age and has decided that she wants no contact with you," Tarrin said smugly, glad to have the upper hand. "For which I have only your word," the Preacher replied. "Strange how that seems unwilling to communicate her wishes to a Tribunal member directly. She is the true heir to the throne, after all." The elvish king stiffened at that jab. The Shepherd had been king once, but had passed the crown to his oldest son when he had accepted the position on the Tribunal, forsaking his own name. Tarrin was still bitter about his brother getting that honor. When the new king and queen had died, Tarrin had been the only one left in the line of succession except for Princess Vanesse, who had been too young to assume the duties of the crown. She had become the new king's ward, and would take the crown when she reached the age of fifty. The Shepherd enjoyed reminding the king that his time on the throne was temporary, even though he would have it for another twenty years. "And I shall make sure that the crown is in good hands," King Tarrin replied stiffly. "Now if you please, I have appointments with the other Tribunal members." Tarrin stood still. As much as he detested his father, one did not walk out on one of the Tribunal. "Very well. Good day," the Shepherd said, waving his son off. He had never quite figured out where he had gone wrong with this one, but Tarrin had always been arrogant. Marrying that shrew of a woman certainly had not helped. Tarrin's wife came from one of the most socially and politically conservative families on the entire planet, and she had steadily turned Tarrin even further in that direction. "Well, that went well," came a voice from behind Shepherd. The elf smiled slightly. The feeling of power in the room rose tenfold as the Alpha entered the chamber. The Alpha was the most dominant lycanthrope on the planet. He had to be in order to represent all of his kind on the TribunalTribunal, and he would remain there until someone bigger and badder came along to take that spot away. The lycanthropes were a brutal group at times, but at least they were logical. "Doesn't he have an appointment with you?" the Shepherd asked. "He can bloody well wait." The Alpha pulled up one of the ridiculously comfortable chairs the Tribunal had around the complex and leaned back. He was a massive individual that looked like the mountain man he had once been, and he was certainly more suited for living in the wild than in the boardroom. "So he's still being a little bitch?" The Shepherd nodded. "Not how I would have phrased it, but you seem to have gotten the point. Fifteen years . . . I have not even seen my granddaughter in fifteen years. Much of it has been my own schedule, but still . . . time seems to fly for those of us who fail to appreciate it." He looked towards the door that the king had walked through. "Have you any word for me, old friend?" The Alpha grunted. "Actually, I just might." The Shepherd's eyes snapped to his colleague and friend. "Don't toy with me, Alpha. Not about this." "Don't get your panties in a wad," the big man replied calmly. "Have I ever steered you wrong?" "Such as when --" "Yeah, except for that. You know, I recall you having a lot of fun, so I don't know why you keep complaining about it." "Alpha, I have large black spots in my memory about an entire year. I have only your word that I was having fun." "Yeah yeah. Anyway, I got word from a werebear up in Alaska of something that might be of interest to you." "Alaska?" "Yeah. He told me that he'd found a spot up near Fairbanks that reeked of elf magic. He used to attend court when he was dating this spry young thing --" "Back on topic," the Shepherd growled. "Okay, well he recognized the magical signature from court as elvish. A couple of problems though. One, he doesn't see anything. Two, he keeps getting this strange desire to go away. Three, it's smack-dab in the middle of the territory he just gained by driving out the old bear." "What's strange about that?" "The old bear used to be in the employee of the Elvish Crown. Something strange like that would probably have been reported --" "Unless the bear was on the take. It would be a brilliant location to hide though." The Shepherd sighed and sat next to his fellow Tribunal member. "I need to know if she's there. Technically, he's right in that she's an adult and does not have to talk to me, and only the entire Tribunal can force a member of the monarchy to appear. I do not wish to turn a familial matter into a global scene." The Alpha raised one bushy eyebrow. "What did you always tell me about elves and back room politics?" "That we invented them," the Shepherd replied. "So why are you playing this fair?" "Because I'm not simply another elf anymore. I'm a member of this Tribunal." "So? That never stops me from influencing my people. Such as getting some of them to look for your granddaughter." "For which I am grateful. I'm concerned about her. I have heard rumors that Tarrin wants to marry off Vanesse to Baron Glennon Montain, one of the king's toadies. And Montain is not someone I want in charge of anything, much less my granddaughter and my people's future." He stroked his jaw for several moments. "I need to make sure she's there and what her situation is. Does she truly despise me now, or is that a fabrication of her uncle. How much does she know about her powers?" "Got a plan?" "They must be getting supplies from somewhere, even if they have magically hidden their lodging. Suppliers can be bribed, but extraction is something I am unsure of. Without an edict from the Tribunal, I cannot force the local lords to help, and I don't want to start a cross-territory conflict. The only group in America that might be inclined to help anyway is in Atlanta, and they're a bit busy right now." "I think prepping to be the poster children for the Unveiling, trying to control the most important territory on the continent or in the world, and overseeing the resurrection of the Greater Dragons all probably count as being more than 'a bit busy.' They're spread fairly thin right now, even with the extra enforcers, now that Banshee has taken over down in Savannah." "So all I need is someone who can help get my granddaughter from Alaska to Georgia safely without attracting unnecessary attention from local lords along the way and . . . what?" The Shepherd paused when he saw a look of deep thought etched on his friend's face. "I . . . I think I know some people who could help." The Shepherd became suspicious. "Who?" "Well, they're mercenaries and --" "Mercenaries? Around an elvish princess?" "These guys are capable of going everywhere in the country. Hell, they even ride down to Mexico a lot. And I know the leader --" The Shepherd's eyes shot open. "You are not seriously thinking of sending Joker's Wild after my granddaughter! Are you? Alpha, those people are insane, even for lycanthropes." "I'll pretend I didn't hear that," the Alpha grumbled. "You know what I mean. They answer to no authority but Farmer anyway. Well, and you, but . . . and they're bikers!" "Yes, and they also sell and distribute pot, as well as arrange for the sale and delivery of 'unusual' items to private collectors." "Like what?" "Apparently there was this guy in Nebraska who wanted to mount a battleship's anti-aircraft gun on the top of his hunting lodge --" "That can't be legal," the Shepherd said. "But then, neither is selling marijuana. So you want me to put my granddaughter's fate in the hands of a bunch of psychopathic, criminal bikers?" "Yeah, pretty much." "Well, let's find out if she's there first. Then . . . then I'll decide." The Shepherd left unsaid, 'Hopefully by then, I'll think of something else.' ----- ----------------------- Two weeks later . . . ----- ----------------------- Princess Vanesse Bellethial sat quietly on a bench in the magically maintained garden in her own little private sanctuary. She had been living here for ten years, ever since her uncle had brought her here five years after her parents' death. She had been fifteen when it had happened, her parents killed by a rogue sorcerer. Her uncle had told her that there was growing resentment towards elves, and had hidden her away from the world. She did not remember feeling threatened when she was younger, but she had been ignorant of politics back then. Besides a few humans, she had not seen a non-elf in a very long time. Just like her uncle had said, she felt safe. And bored. Very, very bored. "There you are," Trina said, appearing behind Vanesse without warning. "You need to let me know where you're going." Vanesse rolled her eyes. Her bodyguard was a bit of a busybody. "What could possibly happen in the garden? Maniacal man-eating caterpillars?" "Don't laugh about such things. I heard that there are over fifty caterpillar-related deaths every year in New Jersey alone," Trina replied, her face composed and stoic. Vanesse laughed. Trina was far too pretty to be the straight man, but somehow it worked for her. "I'll keep that in mind." Trina sat her six foot, slim frame down next to the woman whom she would be protecting for the rest of their lives. Vanesse was royalty, so she was given a battle-dancer as a guard on the day she was born. Trina was only twenty years older than Vanesse herself, a pittance in the lifespan of an elf, and she knew more about Vanesse than anyone else. "Do that. I don't want you to be another caterpillar statistic." Trina folded her hands properly in her lap and stared out at the garden, except for the occasional glance over at her companion. Physically, the two of them were like night and day. Trina was tall, slim, with long brown hair, small breasts, and a ripped physique. She was considered pretty, she supposed, but she always felt a bit gangly next to Vanesse. The Princess was so beautiful, exuding a softy, sultry sexuality that she was not even aware of. The elves by nature were slim, which was one reason why Vanesse's ample curves stood out. She was only five feet, five inches tall, with enormous breasts, an hourglass figure, and long white-blonde hair that had been the envy of the elvish court. Those rose-colored eyes looked out at the world with an impish glee that even fifteen years of "protective custody" had not extinguished. "Tomorrow is supply day," Vanesse said absently. "Was there something you wanted added to the order?" Vanesse stared at her own hands, wishing that she had brought her knitting so that they would have something to do. "One of those portable phones that have become so fashionable?" Trina kept her composure, as she often did when Vanesse spoke this way. And as usual, she did not say what she wanted to say, but instead, "Your uncle would not approve." "I know," the Princess said wistfully. "I just wish --" "Yes? Wish what?" "Never mind. I know what he would say. 'The enemies of the elves could track you through the technologies of man.' I just . . . I just don't get it. I've studied all the histories, but I still do not see why the other races have turned against us. My father was not so threatened, was he?" "I was not part of your father's court or council. I do not know what his life was like." 'There,' Trina thought, 'that was close enough to the truth.' "How am I supposed to lead the elvish kingdom if I don't understand why we're feuding with the rest of the world? Does Uncle Tarrin really think that I would be so easily swayed by the opinions of the other races that I would sacrifice the security of my people?" Inside her mind, Trina was effectively counting to ten. Outside, "I have no place offering you council on political matters." "Bull-poop," Vanesse shot back. "You're my best friend." "I'm also your guardian. It will be your job to lead. It will be my job to beat off the throngs of adoring admirers." Vanesse squinted her eyes at her companion. 'Okay, I think that she was joking that time.' With Trina, it was often hard to tell. "AND you're my best friend. And in case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have a lot of friends." "That's not true," Trina replied softly, not letting it show how much that remark had actually stung, "the entire staff --" "That's just it. Staff. I mean, they're nice folk for the most part, but they're only here because I'm the future queen, and no one talks to me. Not TO me, if you know what I mean." "Rarely if ever." "I mean, why can't I go out into the world? I'm not stupid, am I?" Vanesse stared at her friend, waiting for a smart-alecky comment. Trina just sat there, biting her lip. "Okay, maybe my necromancy isn't coming along like I'd hoped, but with you around it's not like I'd be helpless." She stared back towards the garden, but obviously was not seeing anything IN it. "And I've learned to control the urges --" Trina clenched her fists, but again said nothing. She hated keeping things from Vanesse, but this . . . this almost was one where time and time again Trina was tempted to break her Word. But like all the times before, she knew that she would not. "You know yourself best." Then came the part that bothered Trina the most. The lowering of the shoulders, the slight release of breath . . . the giving up. "Could you make sure that there are some of those dark chocolate M&M's on this shipment?" Vanesse muttered, her mind going absent again. Trina nodded. Those candies were one of the few pleasures afforded the Princess. She studied magic, she studied politics, and she hung out with Trina. That was the life of Princess Vanesse Bellethial. "I'll go check. Perhaps when I get back, we can look through some of your old books?" Trina said. Reading some of the diaries left by her parents brought real joy to Vanesse's life. "That would be nice. Thank you." Trina headed over to the garage where deliveries were made to check with Morbis, the anal retentive accountant who oversaw day-to-day operations at the Princess's palace in exile. She loathed that such a flower as Vanesse had been hidden away in the frozen north. She should be out there experiencing life, seeing the world, and learning the truth . . . the truth about herself and her powers and the world. King Tarrin Ralisen did not want his niece to know the truth, and Trina was helpless to intervene. After all, she had given her Word. "Lady Trina," the weasel-faced man in the garage's office area said when she strode in, his eyes almost instinctively seeking out what feminine assets Trina possessed. "What can I do for you?" 'Not what you'd like, you little slimeball,' she thought. 'I may have gone without companionships for ten years, but I'll be damned if I'm going to ever touch you.' "Just checking on something for the Princess. Want to make sure her candy is on the order sheet." "Of course, of course. Anything to make her more comfortable." 'Anything but telling her the truth,' Trina thought bitterly. "Thank you. Where's the order sheet?" "I believe that it's over there on top of the hutch." Trina wanted to throttle the man. The form would not be there, but she would be force to stand with her back to him and let him stare at her ass, then he would get around to showing her what she wanted. "Not here." "Really? Hmm, wait . . . here it is." "On top of your desk. Again," Trina sighed, grabbing the list and moving to the other side of the office. "Big order this month." "Well that's what happens when you have a visiting dignitary." Trina's senses went on alert. "Dignitary?" She grabbed Morbis by his shirt and lifted him out of his chair. "What dignitary? You know all visitors to the compound must be run by me first." "You are NOT in charge!" Morbis squeaked. "Visitors to the compound represent potential threats to the Princess, and that makes it my business." "Just calm down," the cowering bureaucrat said. "It's Baron Glennon Montain (cough). He's on the (gag) free access list. Those are the ones that don't have to go through you." The Best Medicine Ch. 01 'Free access?' Trina thought. 'You mean the would-be husband list.' "I don't care if he's on a 'free access' list or Santa's list. I need to know everyone who's coming here and who they're bringing. Got it?" Actually, she did not really need to see the list, nor did she have the authority of a full head of security. She just liked yanking Morbis around. "Put me down!" Morbis shouted, trying to convince himself that he actually had a pair. "I will speak to his majesty about your behavior." "Go ahead. I am Vanesse's appointed guardian and battle-dancer, and her safety has been my concern since the day she was born. You want to complain to the King about me doing my job? Fine." She dropped him back in his chair and grabbed the visitor manifest. The Baron would be arriving in just three days. Trina knew that Montain was the front-runner in the king's list of would-be suitors for the Princess's hand, and that alone made Trina distrust him. He was arrogant, ultra-conservative, and completely behind the king's opposition to the Unveiling. But since even the king could not force Vanesse to marry against her will, he limited her exposure to anyone who did not meet his criteria, hoping that Vanesse would eventually just wear down. He limited Vanesse's exposure to anything. She spun on her heel, tossed the list back onto Morbis's desk, and then headed back to the garden. She resisted the urge to apologize to Morbis for her rough treatment of him (she really did not like hurting people), but this time managed to remain firm in her lack-of-caring. She found Vanesse sitting in the same spot, but she had retrieved some of the books. "Everything all right?" the Princess asked. Trina smiled. Vanesse knew her too well. "The good Baron Montain is coming for another visit." Vanesse let out a very unladylike snort. "That boor? Why Uncle Tarrin keeps throwing him at me is beyond me. I mean, he is handsome enough, but a viper can be pretty. It still doesn't mean I would want to lay with one." The Princess blushed and her face looked pained. "Forgive me, I should not speak of such things. They are . . . improper." 'Never apologize to me,' was what Trina wanted to say. At that moment, Trina realized that she had to get the Princess out of that place. She had hoped that Vanesse would come to that realization on her own, but -- "Trina, I think I need to leave," Vanesse said suddenly. Trina stopped in mid internal diatribe. "What?" "I need to get out of here. This place, these suitors, it's all too much. What kind of queen would I be if I just hid from the world?" 'Keep talking,' Trina thought excitedly. 'This is your parent's daughter talking, not the worn-down creature your uncle has tried to create.' "You should tell your uncle --" "Why, so he can talk me out of it like he has so many times before? Honestly, I don't know why I've let him do that time after time." 'Perhaps because he's been influencing you?' Trina thought. "It is potentially dangerous," she said. Vanesse gave her a meaningful stare. "You WANT me to do this?" "I didn't say --" "I know. If this was really dangerous for me, you would be all huffing and puffing and threatening to call my uncle. But 'It is potentially dangerous'? For you, that's like buying me a bus ticket with your own money." "I don't have money, remember? You don't pay me." "And why is that? You should have some spending money." "And where would I spend it?" Trina said. She knew that one reason she received no stipend was to prevent her from aiding in any escape attempts. "I'm sure that you'd think of something." Vanesse looked around conspiratorially. "Let's leave tonight. We could catch some kind of transport out of Fairbanks --" "Vanesse, it's twenty miles to Fairbanks, and it is the middle of winter. Only intense magic is keeping us from freezing to death instantly. We have no supplies." "We can get supplies. Through tomorrow's drop." Vanesse snapped her fingers. "A snow . . . bicycle . . . contraption." "A snowmobile?" "Yes, one of those." "And you think that Morbis will order you one without asking any questions?" Vanesse's mouth moved, but she lacked the focus to form words. "Why are you discouraging me? I thought you'd want me to do this." "I am not discouraging you," Trina replied. 'I'm not encouraging you either,' she added to herself. "You don't like my uncle. Don't bother denying it. You never say anything, but I see the way you look at him, and you certainly don't say anything to support him. So why don't you ever support me?" "I cannot --" "Don't tell me that you 'cannot comment' or 'don't think it's your place' or any of your stock responses. What do you think that I should do?" Trina was wracking her brain for a response that did not involve breaking her Word. "I can't answer that question," she said softly. Vanesse was no fool. Naïve, maybe, but no fool. She could tell that her friend and guardian wanted to answer, but something was holding her back. She knew enough of the world of magic and elvish politics to understand that there had to be a reason. Maybe she just needed a better question? "Trina, if I decide that I want to leave, will you help me?" "I will do anything you ask of me," Trina said, seeing some recognition in the Princess's eyes . . . cunning. "My first duty is and always has been to see you safely through your life." "Then put together a list of what would be needed to get the two of us to Fairbanks." "As you wish," Trina said. She actually already had such a list. She'd had it for ten years. ------- --------------------- Across the world . . . ------- --------------------- The Alpha plopped a folder down on the Shepherd's desk. "Found a trucking company out of Fairbanks, Alaska that had the most unusual order. One of my folk got a driver drunk enough to talk about it, despite a pretty nasty contract that the driver had signed. Seems that periodically they take a shipment out into the middle of nowhere and just leave it." "And no one ever bothered to ask why?" "Throw money like that around, and 'why' ain't that important, particularly for guys trying to make a living in the ass end of nowhere. Take a look at that," the Alpha said, pointed his furry chin at the manila folder. "See if anything looks suspicious to you." The Shepherd picked up the folder with surprising steady hands. He had been waiting for a long time for word of his granddaughter, and this was as close as he had gotten. And with every page, he felt he was more sure. "Tarrin always had this exaggerated notion of how royalty should live. I don't think he ever got over what happened in the French revolution. He found commoners beheading nobility as an affront to decency." "Never mind what nobility does to the commoner?" "Exactly. Look at this, the finest spices, seeds, furniture . . . chocolate." "The finest chocolate?" "Not the finest," the Shepherd whispered, "but it's dark. Vanesse loved dark chocolate more than breathing. Said it was the greatest invention of the human race, and for that alone they should be thanked." "I'm more of a milk chocolate kinda guy myself," the Alpha said. When the Shepherd stared blankly at him, he continued, "What? Can't a man have a few vices?" "You have more than a few. Alpha, she's here. I know it. Now, I just need to get her out without Tarrin or his ilk knowing of my involvement until I have had an opportunity to talk to Vanesse personally. It would be best if the Tribunal as a whole did not know either." "Why? They're on your side anyway, even if they aren't paying attention. The Representative is still in Atlanta, Katar is busy learning the rules around here, and the Dweller is somewhere in the Pacific trying to keep the merfolk from freaking out. You're pretty much good to go." The Shepherd sank back into his chair. "How long would it take for Joker's Wild to get to Alaska?" The Alpha grinned. "They're already on their way." "Presume much?" The Shepherd smiled. It was good having a friend like the Alpha. "So how are they going to handle the Princess's battle-dancer?" The Alpha's face went from self-pleased to concerned. "Battle-dancer?" ---------- --------------- Two days later . . . ---------- --------------- Vanesse was so excited that she could barely stand it. Earlier that morning, Trina had shown her the master plan for their grand escape. It involved cross-country skiing to Fairbanks, making one significant withdrawal from Vanesse's royal coffers, then taking small charter airplanes from small town to small town until they could sneak into Canada and then down to Seattle. Trina knew everything that they were going to need, down to the last article of clothing. She had no idea how her guardian had put everything together so fast, but somehow she had. It felt amazing to know that they were so close to making a break for it and leaving the safe, isolated existence behind. And if she did not know any better, she would have sworn that Trina was even more excited. The Princess was so excited that she had wanted to be there when supplies were unloaded, just to see that they were there. The skis had been ridiculously easy to get, as Trina had said that Vanesse would never venture outside the magical lodge without suitable guards, and had actually ordered twenty extra pairs for the other guards. Of course, Trina would sabotage them before she and Vanesse left -- "Princess Vanesse, what are you doing here?" Morbis asked, sliding over with such smoothness that she expected to see a slug trail in his wake. "A loading bay is no place for a lady such as yourself. If you --" "I just wanted to get to my candy as quickly as possible," Vanesse said, hating that she sounded like a ten year old when she did it. "I'm out." "Still, we could bring it to you at the house immediately after it is unloaded. Now just follow Trina back out --" "Are you telling the Princess to leave?" Trina asked, her voice going up just slightly for the word "telling." "Absolutely not," Morbis said, throwing up his hands. "I'm just saying --" And THAT was when hell broke loose. A couple of guards had wandered over to the large metal storage pods that housed their incoming goods and rolled up the doors at one end. A pungent, wild smell filled the garage, and the guards started to shout. Initially, all that Vanesse heard was the sound "thwip" followed by "thud." Trina pushed Vanesse behind her and then backed them both up towards the door. Black-clad figures streamed out the containers, guns pointed all around. There had to be twenty of them in there, more than enough to easily overpower the few guards that had come down to the loading bay for what should have been a mundane check-in. One of them turned and looked over towards Trina and her charge. "Damn, that's her!" came a masculine voice with just a touch of accent. "This is gonna be easier than we thought!" another added, bringing his (her?) weapon to bear on them. "Duck!" Trina shouted. The two of them were just missed by two darts that buried themselves in the wall. Vanesse's heart was pounding like a hard rain as she crawled towards the office area. The guards were going down easily, and no one had been able to get to the alarm. Five attackers diverted themselves towards her and Trina. "Sorry sweetcheeks, but we just want the top-heavy chick behind you," one of them said, pointing his dart gun at Trina. "Sit still and this won't hurt a bit. Vanesse almost felt sorry for that one. Trina did not like it when someone spoke down to Vanesse. The battle-dancer rolled back onto her shoulders, then launched herself off the ground, kicking off the wall and then launching herself with two fists extended at the stomach of the nearest attacker. The man went down with a grunt. And just like that, Trina began to dance like only she could. From the day that Vanesse's parents had found this orphaned child, Trina had trained to dance with war in her thoughts, a song in her blood, and a steady beat in her heart. She jumped six feet in the air, clearing another volley of darts, spinning 360 degrees while catching one masked man with the front of one foot while another attacked was hit in the nose by Trina's heel. She fell to the floor doing the splits, then pushed off the floor with one hand, swinging her legs around and tripping up two more opponents. Across the room, two individuals stared on as their remaining compatriots attempted to swarm the two remaining conscious elves. The description of their target had been slightly outdated, but there was no mistaking the lovely woman who was desperately looking for a way out. The taller woman, however, was a variable they had not counted on. "Who the hell is that?" one of them asked. "Hell if I know. I've never seen anyone fight like that," the second one asked, his voice brimming over with something resembling awe. "She's beautiful," he added as the warrior elf did a step-front kick and almost knocked someone's head off. She twisted over onto her toes, grabbed a man standing behind her by his shirt, then lurched backward. She rolled onto her back, launched the man up and over with her feet, causing him to land on his fellow attackers. That was when the two onlookers heard -- "Sorry!" Onlooker One looked on Onlooker Two. "Did she just apologize?" Onlooker Two nodded. He listened carefully and was able to hear a stream of "sorry" and other apologetic statements, each uttered right after the graceful woman nailed somebody. "This is just too weird," Onlooker One said. "I think she's a battle-dancer," Onlooker Two replied. "I've heard about them, but I've never seen one in action before. Crap, that means this chick we're looking for is a noble or something. Why couldn't the boss give us a little better intel?" "Hey, he says jump, we just ask 'How high?' Crap, a battle-dancer? Don't they have this magical sense of where the person they're guarding is at all times?" "Yep. We either have to kill her or --" "I know, I know. Well, since we're not going to kill her," Onlooker One said, watching the girl kick two more opponents in their respective groins, then dropkick another one through a plate-glass window. "As if we could. Okay, she's making us look bad." Onlooker One walked towards the fray, but diverted to get a clear line on their actual target, pulling a gun from its holster. "Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy," the masked entity said. "Switching to live rounds." Trina's head shot around just in time to see the speaker's gun leveled and the trigger being pulled. "No!" she screamed, jumping and putting her body in the line of fire. She had often wondered when the day would come that she would have to put her life on the line for Vanesse, but she had not expected it to come for soon. What was worse, she did not think that her death would save -- A dart planted itself right into Trina's chest. Immediately, she felt her body grow sluggish and her vision became clouded. "What . . . the --" she muttered, struggling to her feet. "What, you really thought I was going to kill her?" the masked person said. The voice sounded feminine, but had a rich quality to it. "You just kept dodging, so I had to find a way of discouraging that. Don't worry, I won't harm a WHAT THE --" she shouted as Trina rolled forward, grabbing the gun from the woman's hand and then head-butting her in the nose. "You can't have her," Trina sputtered, stumbling backward and falling to one knee. It was getting very hard to see, and she could not seem to remember where she had put her arms and legs. They had been attached to her a second ago. "Crap, that shot would've put an elephant down by now." The woman grabbed another gun and pointed it at the falling guardian. Then something else unexpected happened. The would-be target picked up a two-by-four and charged in front of her bodyguard. 'A noble guarding a guard? That's different.' "Stay back!" the girl said, swing the weapon with far to big of an arc. She obviously had no idea what she was doing, but she was not going to let anyone hurt her companion. Onlooker One stepped forward and when the girl swung, she reached out and simply plucked the two-by-four from her hands. "Give me that before you hurt yourself." Vanesse was scared, but she was also furious. They had done something to Trina, and now this one was sounding amused. She formed a punch just like Trina had taught her and swung for the fences. The shot was easily blocked, and her arm was twisted behind her back. "Okay, I'm going to try and be reasonable," the woman said. "Your friend has made this much louder and more painful than it needed to be, and I think she broke my nose. Now be a good girl and relax. Don't hurt us, and we won't hurt you or your friend here." "Get . . . your hands . . . off of her," Trina muttered, crawling forward on hands and knees towards the sound of her attacker's voice. "Or you're going to do AUGH!" a nearby adversary said, screaming when she lashed out, hitting him in the knee with a palm-strike and sending him toppling to the floor. Another individual grabbed the discarded two-by-four and raised it overhead, intending to put the woman out of their misery. "Stop!" the primary onlooker barked. She watched as the elf guardian crawled forward a few more feet and then collapse onto the ground, muttering an apology to the person she had just hit. "She's . . . mostly out." "Nuke her from orbit," another said, letting out a high-pitched laugh. "It's the only way to be sure." "I . . . I can't see you," Trina said, the last of her sight and bodily control slipping away. The prime onlooker looked down at her captive, who seemed much less concerned for her own safety than for that of her bodyguard. She let the girl go and, sure enough, she went and knelt at the fallen woman's side. "I'm right here," Vanesse whispered. "Please, I'll go with you, just don't hurt her." She did not look around but she felt something sink into her neck. "Good to know," were the last words the Princess heard before she went unconscious. ------ -------------------- Some time later . . . ------ -------------------- " . . . like a baby. Seriously, 'Don't hurt her'? That chick fucked up most of the capture team. See, this is why we need to stick to dealing pot and the occasional grand larceny. Kidnapping girls hurts." "Well, at least we got what we came for. Still no sign of pursuit?" "Fuck no. We blew up the roads, and those magical flares you had us bring were the shiz-nit." "Jack, I hate it when you try to talk Snoop Dog. Didn't we talk about that?" "Yes, we did." There was a pause. "Looks like our guest is awake." Vanesse was struggling to sit up. Her mouth felt like cotton and tasted even worse. And either her eyes were hazy, or someone nearby was smoking. She quickly decided that "both" was the appropriate answer. "So how ya feelin'?" came a woman's voice. This was the leader of Vanesse's attackers. Vanesse was going to pretend that she did not speak English, but then remembered that they had heard her speak back at the garage. So she just chose to ignore them. "C'mon now, sweetcheeks, I'm willing to bet you'd kill for a glass of water right now. That stuff we shot you and your people up with tends to dry you out a bit." Vanesse blushed, both because she was indeed craving water and because she hated being called "sweetcheeks." Again. "Okay, now you can behave yourself and drink what I put in front of you, or we can stuff a funnel in your mouth and pour it down your throat." Vanesse's vision cleared and she finally got to take a look around. They were in a small room that was tackily decorated and furnished, much like a common tavern. She was sitting on a bed and there were about six people in chairs or on the floor, and they were all eyeing her in a fashion that could best be described as hungry. No longer dressed in all black, they now wore combinations of leather and denim that seemed oddly familiar. The Best Medicine Ch. 01 The woman who had been speaking was probably one of the darkest-skinned individuals that Vanesse had ever seen. She wore snug blue jeans that hung low on the hips and leather chaps, along with a denim vest over her "Actually, I'm laughing AT you" red tee shirt with white lettering. Her black hair was done up in cornrows and hung down to the middle of her neck. Exposed skin showed that this woman was ripped, with every muscle standing out in profile. This did not mean that she was huge, but rather was sleek and toned to the point of obscenity. She had a number of tribal tattoos up and down her arms. She had a calm, classic beauty to her face, despite the white bandage on her nose. Her full, dark lips were curled in a smirk that just seemed natural. Green eyes sparkled as they looked Vanesse over in a way that did not make her entirely comfortable. Then one of those long arms held up a bottle of water. When Vanesse just stared at it defiantly -- "Listen, if we were going to hurt you, we would have done it already. I WILL get a funnel," the woman added meaningfully. Vanesse grabbed the bottle, glaring at her captors. There were five other captors in the room, including two burly and bearded white males that appeared to be identical twins, a woman with light brown skin whose origin was a bit of a mystery, and a man of Asian descent who looked like he could lift a bridge-troll over his head. He also had colorful tattoos that covered his arms all the way down to the wrists, and he appeared to have them on his chest as well. That man was standing right behind the woman who had been speaking, giving the impression that he was her right-hand man. The Princess put the bottle to her lips and quickly downed the entire thing. "Looks like sweetcheeks was a little thirsty after all," one of the men chuckled. "My name is not 'sweetcheeks'," Vanesse shot back, drawing herself up and sticking her chin out defiantly. "Well, we don't know what else to call you," the primary woman said. "Wait, you kidnapped me and you don't even know who I am?" The woman shrugged. "Honestly, it didn't seem important. Our . . . employer, well, he just said to go to this spot in Alaska, break into an invisible stronghold, and retrieve some elvish broad --" "Broad?!" "-- and take her wherever he tells us to go. Which he'll tell us when we get away from here. So in the meantime, why don't you give us your name?" The woman leaned back, still smiling wickedly. "Or we could come up with something more interesting than sweetcheeks," she said, looking pointedly at Vanesse's full chest. Vanesse blushed from head to toe. "My name is . . . is --" "Your REAL name will help. Otherwise, you'll never answer it, we'll know it's fake, and it'll be back to calling you --" "Vanesse," she hissed. "My name is Vanesse. What did you do with my friend?" "Your battle-dancer you mean?" the Asian man said. "It's okay Jack," the main woman said. "Show her." Vanesse's heart was in her throat as she feared the worst, then the one known as Jack opened the door to the restroom. Trina was inside, sitting up in the tup and wrapped from head to toe in chains. She had a piece of cloth wrapped around her mouth as a gag, and she was even blindfolded. Vanesse rushed to her friend's side. "Are you okay?" she whispered glancing over her shoulder at their captors. "Did they hurt you?" "Hurt her?" the black woman asked. "She broke my nose!" Trina tried to mumble something, but the gag stopped her. "Was the blindfold really necessary?" Vanesse asked, struggling with the knot. "She was shooting daggers at me with her eyes," Jack muttered. Vanesse glanced at him. "She can't actually do that." "Hey, after what she did in the garage, I wasn't taking any chances." Vanesse got the blindfold and gag off of Trina, while Jack muttered something to the effect that he was sure the battle-dancer could kill with her eyelashes. "I'm sorry," Trina said, staring with tear-stained eyes at the face of her charge. "I failed you." "You did more than anyone could have asked. I was the one who wanted to be in the garage." Vanesse leaned in and whispered, "What should we tell them?" "The truth would help," the woman in the main room said. "And yes, we can hear you." "They're lycanthropes," Trina said in a normal tone. "Most of them have very good hearing." "Savages," Vanesse replied. "And I don't care if they can hear that!" she practically shouted. "Now Vanesse, I can't have you shouting and raising a ruckus. We don't want anyone calling the police now do we?" the woman said, coming over and pulling Vanesse by the arm back into the room and depositing her none too gently on the bed. "Jack, bring in the other one . . . hey, what's her name?" she asked. "Trina," Vanesse informed her. "Her name is Trina." "Okay, so it's Vanesse and Trina. My name is Farmer," the black woman said. "these honorable gentlemen . . . and lady," she added, pointing at the brown-skinned woman, "are Jack, Bud, Ace, and Alani. We are going to be your caretakers for the next few days. First, we have no intention of hurting you, but we will restrain you if you decide to cause us trouble." "Right," Trina said suspiciously, "You're just going to let us run around --" "Oh, I didn't say that," Farmer interrupted. "I figure that the princess here is very much dependent on you, so if we control you, we control her," she said to Trina. Vanesse could not be angrier if she had tried. She had been kidnapped, looked down on, and now she was being dismissed as any kind of threat? Then she realized, "Wait, you said you didn't know who I was!" "I didn't," Farmer say, looking confused. "Holy crap!" the other woman, Alani, said after a pregnant pause. "You ARE a princess? You're Princess Vanesse Bellethial? Everyone was wondering what happened to you." "Why, so that the anti-elf crusade can seek me out and kill me like it did my parents? You're a bunch of savages --" "What anti-elf crusade?" Farmer asked, looking perplexed. "Did I not get that memo?" "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Vanesse snarled. From the look on her face, Farmer had no idea what her guest was talking about. "Oh-kay. So we have an honest to goodness princess amongst us. Oh, won't THAT whet the boys appetites," she said with a grin directed towards Jack. "I'll tell them to put the knives and forks away." "I think they'd rather eat with their hands anyway. Amongst other things." It took a moment for Vanesse to catch up with the conversation. "You wouldn't dare?! Well maybe you would --" "Calm down sugar, I ain't gonna make you a party toy for the boys. First, I don't do that. Secondly, my boys don't do that. But if you ask real nice, I might just take you for a ride," she added smoothly, then had to dive for cover when Trina swung her entire body, chains and all, in an attempt to remove Farmer's head from her shoulders. "See, that's what I'm talking about," Farmer said. "Jack, give the Princess another shot." "What?!" Trina said. "No! Coward, don't take it out on her --" "But you see, this is what I meant about controlling the both of you. I don't want to keep you chained up all the damn time, and I don't want to worry about you causing problems. Now Alani here is kinda our magical froo-froo expert, and she says that you battle-dancers types have a special promise that you make. Right?" Trina controlled her shiver. She was in deep enough shit for being a little too careless with giving her Word, so the idea of this woman using it against her made her stomach sink. "It's called their Word," Alani said calmly. "Once they give it, it's like breathing to them. They can't give it up." "So I want you to give me your Word that you won't try anything funny," Farmer said, looking back at Trina. "Farmer," Alani said, interrupting Trina before she could speak, "it's not that easy. You've got to be careful, or they can find ways to circumvent their Word. You tell her not to do anything funny, she'll interpret that literally and beat you up in a unfunny way." "Crap," Farmer muttered, glancing at the battle-dancer. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to make this easy on me?" She was encouraged in a way when she saw the captive woman trying to suppress a smirk. "Fine, go get Bobbo. He used to be a lawyer. On second thought --" Farmer paused, pulling up a chair and staring at Trina. "Okay, here's the scoop. Again. I need to take the Princess here somewhere to deliver her to my boss. As far as I know, he doesn't want to hurt her and neither do I. I want you to give me your word that you will not try to harm me or any of my people unless you or the Princess are attacked first or with my permission and, if you do retaliate, you only retaliate against the offending party. You will not try to escape our custody and will do what I say as long as it doesn't involve harming or allowing harm to come to you or Vanesse." Trina looked at Vanesse, who was obviously terrified. Okay, maybe she was thirty years old, but she had led an incredibly sheltered life for the last fifteen, and before that she'd been a kid whose parents had been killed in a violent fashion. It was Trina's mission to prevent anything else from happening to her friend and the heir to the crown. She had basically been given carte blanche to defend Vanesse, which she could not do while bound or drugged. "Princess --" "Do it," Vanesse said. "I don't trust them, but I trust you." 'And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,' Trina thought. 'Like always.' She looked at Farmer. "You have my Word." "Let her loose," Farmer said, standing up. The other kidnappers looked at her like she had just lost her mind. "Loose?" one of the twins asked. "Seriously?" the other said. "Now?" Alani put in. Jack did not say anything. He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and started unlocking padlocks. Finally, Trina was free. She got to her feet to stretch, and everyone except Farmer cringed a little bit. "Are you all right?" Vanesse asked. "Nothing really hurt except my pride," Trina said. "Well, there's the matter of my nose," Farmer grumbled. "Sorry about that," the battle-dancer said before she could catch herself. "Okay, what's with the apologies?" Farmer asked. "You were apologizing the entire fight in the garage." Trina sniffed and turned her nose up at the woman. "Not everyone appreciates violence." Farmer let out a laugh. 'Great,' she thought. 'I've got a real elvish princess, a battle-dancer that doesn't like hurting people, and the Alpha gave me no idea why the hell I'm doing this. Bastard's lucky he can afford to pay for my time.' She stood up. "Okay, let's move out. The sooner we get where we're going, the sooner I can get back to business." Vanesse watched as Farmer stood, her body practically uncoiling to her full height. She was as tall as Trina, which was impressive, though she seemed much more solid that Vanesse's elvish bodyguard. Her clothes clung to her curves like a second skin, and those curves were certainly noticeable. Her legs seemed impossibly firm and toned, leading up to a picture-perfect -- 'Stop that,' she chided herself. 'Gods you're sick. No wonder you were in therapy for so long.' Farmer opened up the door to the outside and a burst of freezing air entered the room. Neither Vanesse nor Trina had any cold weather gear, nor any personal belongings at all for that matter. Trina grabbed a blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around her friend's shoulders. "This should help for a bit." "Keep forgetting how delicate you elves are," Farmer said. "We'll pick something up for you at Walmart." Vanesse's face froze in more ways than one. She would not be talked down to by a wild animal. She dropped the blanket. "I can handle anything you can, pathetic cur." Instead of getting angry, Farmer just grinned. "Sweetcheeks, anytime you think you can really handle what I can, just say the word. I promise to give you way more than you can handle." Hating herself for doing it, the Princess blushed again. She walked out into the sub-freezing weather, shaking the whole way. Outside were -- "Motorcycles?!" she exclaimed. "You want me to ride on a motorcycle? In . . . this?!" she added waving at the blustery sky. "What's the matter? Can't handle it after all?" 'That's it,' Vanesse growled mentally, 'I'll freeze to death before I give this woman the satisfaction of more complaint.' "Fine." Farmer let out a laugh. "Oh, you're too cute when you're being defiant. It's okay, Princess. The boys are bringing something around for you. Not everyone has this rockin' metabolism," she added, pointing at her cut abdomen. Vanesse was not sure what that chiseled muscle group had to do with anything, but it did not keep her from staring. Her reverie was interrupted by the rumbling as more motorcycles arrived. And there were a lot of them. "Oh my --" she started to say. There had to be thirty or so ruffians pulling into the parking lot or parking on the nearby street, each one looking meaner and nastier than the next. All of them wore denim jackets with a playing card on the back. The card was a joker, and it was surrounded by black flame. All of the bikers took time to oggle the newcomers, giving Trina a chance to scope them out as well. She was interested to see that there were as many women in the gang as men, something of an oddity in organizations like this. At least, as far as she knew. All of them looked tough, all of them looked armed, and each and every single one of them was a lycanthrope. 'Amazing,' she thought. Normally, different types of lycanthropes did not like to hang out together for extended periods of time unless they were part of a House, which these obviously were not. 'So are they wolves?' she thought. She could not think of anything else than would run in a pack this large. Amongst the revving motorcycles was a large SUV with black tinted windows. The entire thing looked like it had seen better days, as the doors were dented and scratched, the rear bumper was missing entirely, and the words "Loose women wanted. Inquire within" painted on the side. "Your chariot awaits," Farmer said, giving an overly elaborate bow and holding open the passenger-side door. "You want me to get in that?" "You WILL get in that," Farmer said, still smiling, but her teeth seemed sharper now, as was her voice. "She sits next to me," Trina said calmly. "I need to be in a position to protect her." "This baby is warded inside and out," Jack said, putting his hand on the hood. "Safer than a tank." "Bud and Ace sit in the back," Farmer said firmly. "You're in the middle," she told Trina, "with Jack on one side and Alani on the other. The Princess here sits in the passenger side, and I drive. These arrangements are not negotiable." She patted the seat. "Now slide that cute little ass in here so we can get going." Vanesse knew that she would accomplish nothing by holding out, so she climbed in, then waited for Farmer to close the door. Farmer just smiled and walked around to the driver's side. Trina moved forward and grabbed the door. "Just remember, I'm right behind you. Like always," the brown-haired elf said, then closed the door and got into the middle row of seats. Farmer rolled down her window and looked at the gathering of bikers. "Okay, everyone knows the directions and the time-table. Since we're going through some relatively unknown territory for a lot of it, we need to do something I've never asked of you before." "Have sex with a giraffe?" someone shouted from the back. A round of laughter ensued, with Farmer joining in. Trina found it odd . . . the laughter. It sounded a bit high in pitch, and they seemed to be doing a lot of it. "Juan," Farmer said at last, "How'd you find out what your Christmas present was?" More laughter. "Seriously as I can be folks, let's watch the speed." A round of "awh's" filtered into the wind. "And no recreational fist fights --" (more "awh's") "-- unless I start one or otherwise say so." (A "woo-hoo!") "Her longest streak is three days," Jack whispered. He looked amused. "Three days?" Trina whispered back. "Three days without starting a fight. She had bet she could last a week." "What did she bet?" Jack grinned. "Wait and see. I'm sure we'll have a chance to call her on it sometime on this trip." Trina was curious in spite of herself. It also occurred to her that she could use this situation to her and Vanesse's advantage. They had wanted to escape, and now they were getting taken . . . somewhere. She just was not sure about what kind of people these were. Did she dare trust them enough to tell them . . . 'No,' she thought. 'Whatever their purpose is, it's their purpose. I'm not exactly going to put it all on the line to someone who's just handing us off to someone else.' "Also," Farmer was saying, "if anyone makes a pit-stop, take a couple of boys with you. People are looking for our package already, and who knows what they're going to send. When I hear more from you-know-who, I'll tell ya. Oh, and Robbie?" "Yeah?" "What happens to you if you hurt my bike?" "Uhm, I die in a horribly painful fashion?" "For starters." Trina looked out through the window and saw a young man on what had to be Farmer's bike. It almost glowed black, with a sleek frame and chrome accents. Near the headlight, someone had sculpted the head of an animal so that light shone out from between powerful jaws with chrome teeth. 'Looks to short in the snout to be a wolf,' she thought, 'but too long to be a cat. It's almost like a bear or --' Trina's brain stopped in its tracks. The grinning, the laughing . . . Farmer being in charge. Not a lot of the lycanthropic breeds had or even allowed females to lead. But there was one. "Werehyenas?" she said out loud, without even thinking about it. "At your service," Jack said, that grin still plastered on his face. "You know, you could've just asked." "They're hyenas?!" Vanesse hissed from the front seat. Werehyenas were one of the smallest sub-populations in the lycanthrope community. Seeing this many together probably represented the majority of them in the country and possibly on the continent. They were notoriously unpredictable and violent, and the only lycanthrope species that was matriarchal in nature. "Could you scream, 'Oh mah Gawd, we is all gonna die?' Seriously, you sound like one of those old Hollywood actresses tied to the train tracks when you get like that," Farmer said. "Hey Bud, what's the chick from Dudley Do-Right?" "Nell," came a gruff voice from the back. "That's it," Farmer said, pounding the steering wheel gleefully and shooting a sideways glance at Vanesse. "You're her. Oh c'mon, you've seen Dudley Do-Right, haven't you? The cartoon? Rocky and Bullwinkle?" "Is she even speaking English anymore?" Vanesse said over her shoulder. "It was a cartoon," Trina informed her. "You never watched it because it was not Looney Tunes, and you were a purist." "So what was your favorite cartoon character?" Farmer asked. That was when Vanesse realized that she was having a civilized conversation with uncivilized people, so she turned away from the driver and stared pointedly out the window. Farmer gunned the engine and pulled out onto the frozen streets of whatever small Alaska town they had stopped in. "C'mon, share a little. Otherwise, this is going to be a long ride. See, I like noise --" "That she does," Jack said. "-- and these guys have heard or been around for every one of my stories --" "True dat," Alani concurred. "-- and so I am desperate for new blood," she finished meaningfully. Then another sideways glance. "What size do you wear?" The Best Medicine Ch. 01 "What?!" Vanesse yelped, instinctively covering her ample bosom. 'Damn, she's grinning at me again!' "Sizes? As in clothes? We're stopping to pick you up something else to where, because elvish ceremonial robes are likely to stand out where we're going." "Which is?" "Short term . . . Canada. Well, Walmart first, then Canada. We need to get you some flannel and a hat with ear flaps, stat." 'Please be kidding,' she thought. "Vanesse, it probably would not hurt in this situation to cooperate. You should be as comfortable as possible," Trina said from her position in the middle of the vehicle. "I am not going to tell her what size . . . you know!" "If you're worried about telling me your bra size, don't worry. I already guessed that." "You did not!" "You're a 36D-28-34. I'm mostly just waning to know your inseam, but if you want to talk naughty details --" "How . . . how --" Vanesse wished that she had brought a blanket to cover up with. "Sweetcheeks, I've seen many a woman in and out of their frilly unmentionables. I'm good at the measurement game." They pulled into a Walmart on the outskirts of Fairbanks, where Alani and a half-dozen other gang members went inside to do some shopping. Farmer kept the engine, heater, and conversation going. "So you're really planning on not talking to me the whole trip?" the lead werehyena asked. "I'm a great conversationalist. You should --" "Shut up!" Vanesse said. "You've kidnapped me, drugged me, drugged my only friend --" "Only? Kinda harsh. Don't they have a support group for you royal types? Or toadies? And honestly, what the hell were you doing out in the middle of nowhere?" "I told you, hiding from --" "You DO know that there is no crusade against the elves, don't you?" Farmer interrupted. She looked over at Trina. "YOU at least should know that." "I have no more access to news that does the Princess," Trina said. This was an evasion of course, but she hoped that Farmer would keep her out of it. "Sweetcheeks --" "My name is Vanesse!" "Vanesse, why do you think people have it in for the elves? There hasn't been a problem between the magical races in . . . well, as long as I've been in the business." "Tell that to the sorcerer who killed my parents," Vanessa growled, trying to control the sorrow in her voice. After all this time, she still missed them. "The King moved me there so that our enemies couldn't find us." "Every monarch or leader has enemies. Never heard of anyone hiding out like that though." "But I was in direct danger," Vanesse said, looking over her shoulder for confirmation from Trina, but the battle-dancer's face was like a stone mask. "Trina, I was in direct danger, wasn't I?" She still got no response. "Damn it Trina, I order you --" "Now let's calm down," Farmer said, the voice that had been curious and light-hearted now dark and serious. "I don't want to have to sedate you." Vanesse then proved just how comfortable she was with absolute silence, as she just glared out the window and waited for the others to get back. -------- ---------------- Late that night . . . -------- ---------------- King Tarrin Ralisen and Baron Glennon Montain both had sour expressions as they paced a circle around the meeting room in Montain's posh estate on the outskirts of London. Just moments earlier they had gotten word from the Princess's supposedly safe retreat in Middle Of Nowhere, Alaska that the compound had been hit and the Princess along with her battle-dancer taken. Phone lines had been cut and magical flares sent up that had blocked communication for almost twelve hours, meaning that the kidnappers could be long gone. The King had sent out word to his people as well as his allies to watch the airports and public transportation areas, though he doubted they would use those. The Princess had no passport or official ID, so air travel was out, and there were winter storms rolling through the Northwestern United States and Canada that were grounding planes left and right. With luck, they had not gotten far. "I want her found," the King shouted at the walls. "I want her found and sent somewhere safe immediately. I will not have my niece corrupted --" "Sire, we have put everything into motion that we can. Every local lord for a thousand miles is on the lookout, and the royal hunters have been mobilized. We will find her." "You are a good man, Baron. You will make a fine husband to my niece, and a fine king." "Had you told her?" "No, it was going to be a surprise on my next journey out there. Damn it, this is too much of a coincidence. My Father has to be behind this." "Sir, the Shepherd --" "Will not have a direct hand in this. He knows enough about the rules of politics that nothing will be traceable directly back to him, but for this to happen just days after him demanding to see her?" "A coincidence, Sire," the Baron said smoothly. "And unless proof is brought forward, that is all that can be claimed." The King nodded, remembering why he so often took council with Baron Montain, for the rising star of true elvish nobility kept track of the rules and the old ways. "I doubt that he has made contact before. The Princess's battle-dancer did too much damage. I may have underestimated that one. She has kept her Word for a long time." "Perhaps we could allow the battle-dancer to stay on after all rather than finding her a new one. A token of good will from uncle and fiancé-to-be?" "That might be appropriate. Still, the woman is willful. I may have to find a new way to bind her before she finds some way to circumnavigate her Word." "That is a problem for another time, my liege. For now, we must concentrate on getting my betrothed back, safe and sound." "You are right as always," the King replied. "I must take my leave and head to the United States immediately. This might even work to our advantage and sway our more ignorant brethren that we should separate ourselves from the other magical races before this Unveiling. We nor the world can handle such an unholy union." "I will join you in the hunt shortly," the Baron added. "Just let me put some affairs in order here." "I shall see you soon, old friend." Once the King had left the room, Baron Montain called in Torris, his primary enforcer and assassin. The gaunt elf was feared in magical community, and rightly so. Battle-dancer trained, he was one of the most formidable killing machines the Baron had ever known. "You summoned?" the flinty voice whispered. "The King is a wise man, but he may not be able to separate head from heart in this matter. He wants what is best for our people, but the Princess is still his blood." Torris nodded. "Being emotional and compassionate were weaknesses of his brother." "Which we can ill afford to take the throne again. The King's hands must be kept clean in such matters, but ours --" "Your orders sir?" "Find the Princess. When you do . . . well, it would not hurt if his Majesty remained king by forfeit." -------- ---------------------------- Somewhere in Canada . . . -------- ---------------------------- "We're heading south," Vanesse muttered as she stepped out of the confines of the vehicle, having arrived at their proposed lodging area. "How can it be getting colder?" "Canada doesn't have enough of an economy to import heat," Trina said in her typical deadpan. She was hoping to get a smile out of her charge, but Vanesse's shoulder was colder than the snow around them. It ripped a little of Trina's heart to be left out in the cold, so to speak, but she could not give Vanesse what she had asked for, namely answers. At least Farmer laughed, albeit not much. "At least one of you has a sense of humor," she said, heading towards a barn next to a raucous little middle-of-nowhere bar. "Anyway, Jack assures me that this place will suit our needs. The owner is an ex-con who's distributed for us on occasion." Vanesse did not even know where they were, having drowsed off for part of the twelve hour drive into the Yukon territory. Not only was she not speaking to Trina, she had avoided speaking directly to anyone. That had not kept Farmer from commenting on just about anything that came to mind. "Distributed what?" she asked, just to make sure her jaws still worked. "Flowers," Jack said. "Roses and tulips," Farmer said, grinning while she nodded. "Does he distribute your horse manure fertilizer too?" Trina asked. "Because the two of you are shoveling a lot of it." This time, Farmer actually laughed hard enough that she plopped down on the snowy ground and held her stomach. "Oh c'mon!" she said, looking at Vanesse who was apparently going to remain aloof if it killed her. "That was worth one pretty smile." "Where will I be staying?" the Princess asked primly. Farmer sighed and got back on her feet, leading her into the barn. It was a large structure, and several portable heating pits had been set up, bringing a delightful warmth to the weary bones of the travelers. There was a hayloft that actually was boarded off a few feet from the ledge, complete with a door. Hay was spread out across the room, a respectful distance from the glowing embers. "You want me to sleep in a barn? Like livestock?" Vanesse said. "Hey, at least you get a room with a view," Farmer said, glancing up towards the loft. "And I wouldn't think about making a run for it. You're battle-dancer may be tough, but it's going to be colder than a witch's nipple out there, and they're expecting snow. Unless you're a pretty potent fire elementalist, you won't be getting far, assuming you can get by us." "I assure you, I'm no elementalist," Vanesse said, looking up towards her "quarters." "Okay, what the hell are you? I know that pretty much all elvish royalty has some kind of magic --" "Very well," Vanesse interrupted, "if you must know, I'm a necromancer." "Crap, you mean you could have healed this?" Farmer said, pointing at her bandaged nose. Trina was instantly on alert, but she had no way of cutting off the conversation without Vanesse getting even angrier at her. "I can't heal," the Princess replied. "I can only do Major Works." Now, Farmer and Alani both looked confused. "Uhm," Alani said, "I've never heard of a necromancer who can't do healing." "That . . . I just never developed that talent is all," Vanesse replied, looking from one to the other. "As I said, just the Major Works. Bones, blood, and time off of life for temporary cheats to death or raising zombies and the like. I can use personal energy for some of it, but it really drains me. I guess I'm just not a very good necromancer." "As you said, that's the price for Major Works. For healing, all you need is --" "She has no powers that will help her escape," Trina interjected. "What is the point of --" "You be quiet," Vanesse ordered. "All I need is what?" "Sex. Lots and lots of hot, nasty sex," Alani told her, smiling now. Vanesse rolled her eyes. "Very funny," she said. "Okay, so you got the naïve girl with --" "I'm not kidding," the brown-skinned beauty told her. "Ask anyone who knows anything about magic." "Even I know that," Farmer said, "and I'm not the biggest scholar on magic." "But you're so hot when you're bent over a book and studying," Alani replied. "You're hot when you're bent over and I'm --" "Can we get back to the subject at hand?!" Vanesse yelped, feeling the blush extend from her head to her toes. She looked at Trina who, while perfectly composed, was white as a sheet. And just like earlier, that was more telling to Vanesse than anything that could be uttered by the werehyenas. "Is there any truth to what they're saying?" she whispered softly. In spite of her anger with the girl, she did not want to think that Trina had been withholding information from her. But when Trina turned her head and looked away, she got her answer. "You bitch!" the Princess hissed. She wanted to know more . . . to understand what Alani and Farmer were talking about, but more than anything she wanted Trina out of her sight. Vanesse quickly scaled the ladder towards her sleeping area. "Vanesse," Trina said, her voice racked with sorrow. She started to climb up after her friend, if the Princess could still be called such, but Vanesse ordered Trina to leave her alone. Farmer watched this interaction with great curiosity. She was fascinated, but her job was just to transport the package from Point A to Point B. She knew that she should not interfere. She also knew that there was a snowball's chance in hell of her listening to her own advice. She nodded to her fellow hyenas, who all made themselves scarce. "Well that went well," she said, looking up at the slamming door. She looked over, and it actually bothered her to see Trina's lovely face look like someone had just killed her puppy. The girl was broken up. "Think she'll calm down?" Trina glared at her. "Hey, don't go getting mad at me. You're the one who's been lying to her," Farmer added, listening to the elf grate her teeth. "Now, I'm going to go over to the bar, grab some grub, play some pool, and possibly get laid. Lots of truckers, farmers, and farmers' daughters stop by here from what I'm told, and just about any of those sound good. You're welcome to join me, but I've got a feeling that you're not in the mood. Regardless, I've got a guard schedule worked out, so there will be a dozen of my boys in here all the time." "I gave my Word --" "It ain't you that I'm worried about. Someone is going to come looking for her, and I intend to be ready if they show up. They'd have to be crazy to take on my gang and a hot-momma battle-dancer, but crazy can be deadly. It works for us most of the time," Farmer added, trying to get Trina to smile. It did not work. Farmer sighed, then turned to leave. "They'll send royal hunters first," Trina said quickly. "They won't attack, but will just watch. Then they'll start to coalesce, pick a spot, and then drive you toward their trap." She finally smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Elves don't do direct attacks. It is all misdirection and trickery." Farmer turned around, her curiosity burning her alive. "Good to know. Of course, this ain't my first rodeo, and I got a few tricks of my own, but still . . . Should you be telling me this?" Trina blundered on. "You know that all the local lords will be obligated to turn you in, right? And with the kidnapping of a royal of any species, the Tribunal may be asked to get involved. In the meantime, the King will throw everything he has to slow you down. He's a prideful man, and you just made him look very weak." "Again, why are you telling me this?" Trina knew that it was probably a bad idea to be doing this, but she needed for someone, in this case Farmer, to think that she was not the bad guy. Even though she kind of felt like one. "Because I don't want her to go back there," she whispered, looking up towards the door. "She was planning on running away anyway." "Running away? But she's an adult. Has she been held against her will?" Trina backed away towards the ladder. "The strongest cages are the ones with pretty bars," she said. "And they're the ones you don't even know that you're in." She grabbed the ladder. "Don't tell her I said anything to you." "But why --" Then Farmer stopped, watching Trina climb up. 'Damn, she has a nice ass.' The elf did not knock, but rather just sat on the two feet of ledge outside the wall, settling in to keep watch. The werehyena leader walked out into the cold, waving the guards to go back in. She found her way over to the bar that smelled of pine, beer, cigarettes, and broken dreams. It was just her kind of place. Alani and Jack had claimed one of the pool tables, while the rest of her boys were getting drunk, throwing darts, or hitting on just about anything or anyone that moved. Farmer could not help but smile as her pack began to unwind. "You gonna call in?" Alani asked, tossing the boss a cue. "Three of us. Cutthroat?" Farmer nodded, and Jack started to rack up the balls again. "Seems that we have a bit of a mystery on our hands," she said, finding a good weight stick. She always broke the first game, a benefit of being the alpha. She quickly relayed the conversation she had just had with Trina. "Weird. So the battle-dancer wants the Princess to be kidnapped as long as she doesn't get hurt, because . . . why?" "Dunno. Didn't get that far. It was like she wanted to explain something but --" Farmer stopped for a moment. "Think she gave that Word of hers NOT to say anything?" "Possibly. But battle-dancers are assigned by the crown. Why would they assign her one that wasn't loyal to her?" Alani asked. "Isn't that the point?" Farmer shook her head. "Oh, she's loyal. You remember how Trina fought in the garage, or have you seen the way she looks at the Princess? Let's just say I'm glad she gave her Word to behave herself, because that woman would be a handful to contain otherwise." "So do we care?" Jack asked.' "Huh?" Farmer grunted, sinking Anali's 6-ball followed by Jack's 11. "I mean, we hand them off when we get to the drop-off point. What does it matter --" "I'm bored," Farmer said. "But --" "B-O-R-E-D," she emphasized. "Don't make me sing it." Jack threw up his hands in surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it." "Do you really think that she doesn't know anything about her healing?" Alani said, finally getting a shot on the table. "I dunno. Maybe," Farmer said, watching her magic expert and water elementalist bend over the table. Alani had a nice ass. Maybe as nice as Trina's? Perhaps. And Alani could tell she was being stared at, because she started rocking her ass gently from side to side. 'Hell,' Farmer thought, 'it's not like there's a lot of other pickings in here tonight.' By pack rule, she got her first pick of any "fresh meat," but she wasn't seeing anyone in that night that really floated her boat. 'Too bad the Princess already has a stick up her ass.' Farmer won the game, but only barely. She tossed her cue to Jack to put away, then walked outside. Her lycanthrope metabolism kept her warm even in those conditions, despite the fact that hyenas were normally not a cold-weather species. She pulled a satellite phone out of one vest pocket and a joint out of the other. She lit the joint, inhaled deeply, then made the call. "Farmer," the voice on the other end started, solid and powerful as ever. "You've certainly stirred up the hornets nest." "Well, we DID kidnap a member of the Elvish Court. Future Queen, if I'm not mistaken. Doing stuff like this kinda pisses people off. Mind telling me why I'm doing it?" There was a chuckle on the other end. "Farmer, you're the only one I know who would wait until AFTER you've done the deed to ask that question. And after you objected so strenuously to me 'interrupting' your drug sales." "Kinda felt obligated to making you feel bad about this. So --" "No, I can't tell you what it's about right now. Just let her know that no harm is going to come to her." "Got that part. Got her battle-dancer to give her Word to behave." She recounted the entire operation up until that point. When she got to the part about her conversation with Trina, the Alpha stopped her. "I need to talk to someone in the know about weird elvish law. See if you can get the battle-dancer to talk, but you may need to get her away from the Princess in order to do it. And be careful. The elves have their royal hunters out looking for you. And word through the grapevine is that there's a dozen or so mercenary groups headed your way. Honestly, I didn't think it would get this bad this quick." "Hey, what's life without a little excitement?" Farmer asked. She was kind of surprised. The Alpha had just confirmed everything that Trina had said would happen, meaning that the battle-dancer might wind up being a very valuable asset in this little escapade. "Call me if you find out about any more heat coming my way. I'll check in tomorrow." The Best Medicine Ch. 01 "Understood. And Farmer? If this gets to be too much of a danger for your pack, I wouldn't blame you at all for just putting her on a plane --" "No way. This is as much fun as I've had in years. No way I'm woosing out. Catch ya later." "That the big guy?" Alani asked, sliding up behind her boss. "Yep. Turns out Trina was right about what was going to happen. He's looking into something for me, but I won't know what it is until tomorrow." "Hey, some of the boys wanted to know if they could play with the patrons. You didn't mark anyone --" "Nothing in there that's appealing to me." Farmer let out a set of loud, cackling barks. Inside, her boys would hear it, and they'd know that it was okay to indulge. They knew better than to force the issue with anyone. Farmer would castrate anyone who forced themselves on an unwilling host. Of course, anyone who pleased the pack got compensated, since once you gave yourself to one of them, you became a treat for all of them. They had a bunch of willing participants all over the country who happily made a living providing "attention" to the pack. Only Farmer could declare someone off limits, which she rarely did, since the boys did a good job of letting people know the score up front. "How about out here?" Alani said wickedly, scooting in front of her boss and rubbing her ass against the alpha female's crotch. Farmer grabbed Alani's hair and roughly yanked her head up, breathing in her scent. Alani had so many islander ethnicities contributing to her genetic pool that it was difficult to sort out them out, but it left one hell of a beautiful, brown-skinned package. In the barn, Vanesse was watching these events unfold from great interest. She was unable to get comfortable, the cot she was provide being somewhat less than up to her standards. She kept resisting the urge to go find Trina so that she would have someone to talk to, then she reminded herself that she was angry with her bodyguard. The Princess had hoped to eavesdrop in on Farmer's conversation to find out who was behind this, but the small window to the outside was much too far away for her to hear anything. But she could see just fine. She watched as Alani was pushed to her knees on the frozen ground, spinning around to face her pack leader. 'They're not going to --' Vanesse started to think, then saw Alani messing with Farmer's zipper. 'Yes, they are.' She thought back to all her therapy, and how it had taught her to avoid even thinking about sex. She had learned to control her urges, or so she thought. At the moment, her brain was at war with itself, and it would not let her look away. Particularly when Farmer's pants came down and -- "What the hell?!" Vanesse muttered out loud, her eyes wide. Between Farmer's legs was a penis. She was a he? He was a she? It just was not possible! But it was possible. Alani opened her mouth and took part of it inside. Down below, Farmer had heard a gasp of surprise with her super-honed hearing, and a quick glance up showed her the slightly open window with light coming out. 'So I've got an audience, huh?' she thought. She grinned. 'I've never been one to shy away from a good show.' She moaned loudly as Alani sucked gently on the head of Farmer's cock, coaxing it to hardness. One hand reached underneath and started to fondle the alpha female's nutsack, and one finger teased her asshole. 'Damn she's good.' It didn't take long before all nine inches of her ebony shaft were hard and slick, covered by Alani's saliva. One delicate-looking hand was stroking the shaft while Alani's mouth kept Farmer's cock-head firmly between her lips, drawing the pre-cum to the surface. Farmer's shaft was hot and heavy in her hand, the veins pressing against Alani's palm, providing texture. From her hiding place, Vanesse's excellent vision was doing her no favors, giving her a clear, crisp view of that substantial . . . thing . . . between Farmer's legs disappearing a little bit at a time into Alani's mouth. The one time that Vanesse had participated in a carnal act, she had not done anything like this. Watching it was stirring up feelings that she could not suppress, nor was she even really trying. Vanesse had never seen nor even really heard of anyone like Farmer. She kept watching as Alani's oral attack became more aggressive, stroking the whole shaft, then trying to force as much of it as possible down her throat. She was also struggling to get her own pants undone as if to release -- "Oh my!" she said, a little more loudly than the last time, seeing Alani's erection spring into the cold night air. Then she heard a knock on the door. "Princess Vanesse, are you all right?" Trina asked worriedly. For a moment, it bothered her that Trina had used her formal title, something that she had not done in . . . well, forever. Trina had always been someone she could count on to treat her like a person rather than a title. Of course, she WAS mad at Trina. She also realized that she had taken too long to respond, because Trina came in, looking concerned. "Princess are you --" The battle-dancer stopped in her tracks. Vanesse was standing next to the door, her skin flushed and her visage wide-eyed. "What? I mean, what are you doing in here? I'm fine, I'm -- No stop!," she yelped, trying to get between Trina and the window. "Princess, what's going . . . oh! Oh my." "See, that's what I said," Vanesse muttered, pushing Trina aside to get a better look. "Princess, you shouldn't be watching this." "Why?" Vanesse sniped angrily, "because you and my uncle don't want me to?" Trina hung her head in shame, but replied, "Because it's generally considered rude to watch someone else in the act without being invited to." "Oh. Well, they're doing it in the middle of a parking lot. I seriously doubt that privacy is a concern of theirs." Vanesse looked out the window. The two woman-ish people were now lying on the hood of a truck, each with their face in the other's crotch and pleasuring each other simultaneously. "What are they? What are they doing?" Trina had to tread carefully to avoid stepping on her Word. She could not encourage her charge to participate in sexual activity, so she needed to keep her description practical. "What they are 'doing' is called, or at least it was fifteen years ago, a 69, based on the way the heads of the numbers are situated." "I can understand that," Vanesse muttered. Alani's member was not quite as long or thick as Farmer's, allowing the alpha female to take the whole thing into her throat. "That is called 'deep-throating'," Trina continued matter-of-factly, "which is a kind of oral sex which requires some skill to accomplish." "Why do they have . . . you know?" "Penises? If memory serves, the hyena is the only mammal species where the female has a penis, or something like a penis. Anyway, female werehyenas, as part of some great magical joke, are in fact very much female except that their primary reproductive organs are male in nature. Fully functioning penises and testicles. The whole works. In human terms, they would be called T-girls, but medically would be considered transexuals." "Not hermaphrodites?" Vanesse really could not tear her eyes away. The two werehyena women were absolutely devouring each other. Alani was only able to get halfway down that beautiful bar of chocolate . . . 'Why am I thinking like that?' she chided herself. 'It's racist and . . . well, you're just hungry and have chocolate on the brain. Wonderful, delicious dark chocolate.' "No, hermaphrodites have both male and female sex organs, and neither of them tend to work right if at all. And technically, werehyena females are not even true transexuals in that they were born female and still tend to identify themselves that way, but the added equipment and testosterone does tend to make them more . . . aggressive. They also lean far more towards bisexuality than other species of lycanthropes or humans, and werehyena females are the only ones of their species that can create more. They are, after all, female dominated." "Create new werehyenas? How?" With a perfectly straight face, Trina replied, "They inject their semen into the potential candidate and then bite them. Assuming the virus in their saliva takes --" "Inject? You mean . . . in their mouths?" "Well, human women are still built normally, so there are three possible points of entry, whereas there are only two for men --" "You're serious? Men . . . do that?" "They have to in order for the transformation to take hold. Bisexuality is not nearly as prevalent in werehyena men, but they have to take one for the team if they want to join up." Vanesse actually snickered. "Wait, you said three points of entry. "I get the first two, but the third --" "Is currently being displayed. Vanesse looked down and saw that Alani was now standing on the ground, bent over with her elbows resting on the hood of the car they had been using. Farmer was standing behind her, pushing her sizable rod into her partner's -- "They're not . . . in the . . . Doesn't that hurt?" Vanesse gasped. "At first, but it can be quite enjoyable after that." "Fuck me fuck me fuck me! Fuck my ass!" Alani shouted, loud enough to be heard from the barn. "As Participant B is now demonstrating. Vocally," Trina added, in her best narrator, dead-pan voice. Farmer had grabbed Alani's hips and was pushing her way deeper and deeper into the woman's ass, then reached forward and grabbed a handful of her friend's hair. "You have such a tight little ass," she growled into the woman's ear. "I wanted this ass the first time I ever saw it." Alani grinned and sighed as she was anally violated by the powerful pack leader. The first time they'd met, Alani had been a history professor at USC who had been trolling for some pot for an after-office party. Farmer had been with her local dealer at the time working on some distribution logistics when Alani was brought in by a mutual acquaintance. Alani was already bisexual at that time, and there had been serious heat between the two women from the moment they laid eyes on each other. After a passionate few weeks where Alani shared a hotel room with Farmer and, eventually, a number of others from Joker's Wild, they revealed themselves to her for what they really were. When they left town, she went with them as one of them, after Farmer had personally brought her into the world of magical creatures. Since then, Alani had developed her skills as a historian of magical as well as non-magical events, learned about the other races, and had developed a talent for water elementalism, the control over the element of water in its various forms. "I think the size of the train has as much to do with this as the size of the tunnel," Alani grunted as her pack leader bottomed out. She felt the stinging slap of Farmer's hand on Alani's exposed backside. "That's it," she groaned, her own rigid rod responding to her rough treatment. She had been a sex freak as a human, and she had gotten worse, or better, since becoming what she was now. "Full speed ahead," Farmer replied, pumping away with increasing vigor. "Hey, let's give the Princess a little show." She pulled her partner off the car, then lay down on the cold ground, propped up on her elbows. She had Alani sink that cute ass down onto her cock, facing the general direction of the barn. Alani's staff was bouncing wildly as she rode her boss, causing her to take it in hand, stroking it rapidly. The islander woman was using nothing but leg power to raise and lower herself, causing a wonderful burn in her upper thighs, and she was loving every moment of it. "It's pointed right at us," Vanesse whispered. "Be careful. She could probably poke an eye out with that," Trina added with a nod. The Princess turned and faced her bodyguard. "Everything is a joke to you, isn't it?" Trina went a bit ashen, turning around and walking towards the door. "Not everything." She left, resuming her position as guardian. For the first time since they had left Fairbanks, Vanesse began to feel she was being too harsh. But she knew that she was still angry, so she would wait to talk to her friend. In the meantime, there was watching to be done. "Fuck!" Farmer said, pulling Alani down, then cumming in her ass. "Oh that's it baby, milk me dry." Alani wanted nothing more than to do just that. She felt every spurt, relishing the way that huge, magnificent member felt when it twitched and spurted all that seed into her backdoor. "Damn, I love your ass," Farmer whispered. "You keep saying that." "It's always true. Why do you think I keep tapping it?" She shoved Alani onto her back, kissed her hard, then moved her mouth down to Alani's cock. She slid her hand between the woman's ass cheeks and fingered her ravaged asshole while she sucked her off. Her other hand stroked Alani's shaft every time her mouth came off, but she was intimately familiar with this piece, and was able take it all whenever she chose. For Alani, there was something magical about the cold on her skin and how it was completely eclipsed in her sense by the heat around her member. Even though she knew Farmer loved giving oral almost as much as receiving it, it still always felt like an honor when the pack leader went down on her. "I'm gonna cum," she moaned. As usual, Farmer greedily sucked and sucked until Alani had given her every last drop she had to spend. And Farmer kept that cum in her mouth until she kissed Alani again, and they swapped that sticky goodness until they had both had their fill. "Fuck, next time we need a real bed and a couple of hours," Alani whispered in between moments of swapping tongue. "And maybe even a Princess?" she asked, smiling and arching one eyebrow. "That chick is off limits for hunting," Farmer replied, somewhat reluctantly. "No matter how hot she is." "So what was with the show?" "Just want her to know what she's been missing out on." "How humanitarian of you." Vanesse slowly closed the window, realizing that despite letting cold air in, she was very, very warm. About ten minutes later, she heard a knock on the door. "Princess," came that warm, luxurious voice of her primary captor. Even through the wood-plank door, it carried a certain level of humor that seemed as natural to it as its tone. "Room service." Vanesse opened the door and found Farmer standing outside, holding a bag. "Wasn't sure what a refined palette like yours usually took, so I brought you beef and chicken. And fries of course." "Of course," the Princess sniffed, grabbing the bag in spite of herself. She had not eaten in a long time, and whatever was in the bag smelled really, really good. "I'm sure I'll be able to stomach it. We are not quite as delicate creatures as you think." "Well, I knew that Trina wasn't, but you are a dainty thing. But they didn't have any champagne or anything to go with your burger, so hopefully water will suffice." 'Okay, that does it!' Vanesse thought angrily. She forced herself to smile. "You really should be nicer to me. Someone obviously wants me really wants me," she purred, paused, then said, "alive." "And I want you . . . alive," Farmer replied, grinning due to her "captive's" apparent willingness to verbally spar. And she was being a tease! "You think a strong, tough girl like you can handle me?" As she sat nearby eating her bacon double cheeseburger and Dr. Pepper (spirits be praised, she had missed "common" food), Trina's eyes went wide. 'Is she . . . flirting?' Part of her was proud. Part of her was . . . conflicted. "I think I can handle anything you've got," Farmer grinned, her hand tracing the outline of her cock through her jeans. "Can you handle me?" "Let's see --" her opponent said. Then without warning, Vanesse extended her palm and pushed Farmer off the ledge, causing the alpha werehyena to plummet fifteen feet to the floor below, where she landed with a heavy thud. Not truly injured but in something resembling shock, Farmer looked up from the floor. Her pack had gone deathly quiet, and everyone was alternating between staring at the Princess and their leader. Then to add insult to injury, Farmer was hit in the face with a foil-wrapped sandwich. "I prefer chicken," Vanesse said sweetly, then turned around and went back into her room. Trina had stopped chewing, and was now wondering if she was going to have to fight an entire pack of thirty werehyenas with nothing but her wits and some crunchy french fries. Of course, the fries could do some damage if she jammed them into someone's eye -- Farmer started to laugh. It began as a chuckle, then built momentum into a full-blown, belly-ache set of guffaws. It was not long before the entire barn was filled with the chortling of hyenas. In the wild, it was a sound to be afraid of. Here, it was just damn fun. 'Good Lady, what have you started?' Trina thought, polishing off her burger and going into her overwatch mode, which involved a state of slowed heartbeat and bodily systems, but remaining aware of the world around her. It was what battle-dancers did on duty instead of sleeping. Below, the laughing finally died down and those hyenas not on watch settled in for some shut-eye. Farmer stood up, smiled, threw a salute up to Trina, then went for a walk outside. 'Well,' the battle-dancer thought, 'I can't say that this won't be interesting.' ------------- ------------------------- To be continued . . . The Best Medicine Ch. 02 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex. While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game. The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful. Proofread by "Cristalball" --------- ------------------ The Shepherd was nervous. His plan to be reunited with his granddaughter had become more complicated than he had anticipated, though he should not have been surprised. He had after all effectively asked the most powerful lycanthrope in the world to arrange to have her kidnapped from her remote Alaska retreat in order to get her away from her uncle who had basically been filling her head with lies and mistruths for the last fifteen years. Yeah, that probably had something to do with it. "You need to calm down," the Alpha said from across the table. "I just talked with Farmer yesterday. She's got things in hand. No one knows what route they took, and no one knows where they're going. "King Tarrin will guess that I'm involved, but he may not guess the drop-off point. It's kind of a ridiculous place to try and go by land from Alaska. I won't head out there until the last possible moment since he'll be tracking my movements." "You know, if you contacted her and convinced her to come of her own free will, all of this wouldn't be necessary. The King has only been able to rally the troops because it was a kidnapping." "He's been whispering poison to her for fifteen years. She did personally return a couple of letters with her own magical seal, indicating that she did not want to talk to me. Of course, I'm not sure how she'll react to this --" "Well I have some good news for you. It seems that the battle-dancer is on your side." The Shepherd sat up straight. "Pardon?" "She had a very brief conversation with Farmer where she indicated that she did NOT want the Princess to be returned to her uncle's 'care'. But Farmer also said that she thinks the battle-dancer is limited in what she can say or do because of some promise she made to someone." "Her Word," the Shepherd muttered. "I'll bet my last coin that Tarrin made her give her Word on something. Probably threatened to reassign her. He doesn't even know that he can't, but he definitely could have made things difficult for Trina. We need to find out what she gave her Word about. How much do you trust Farmer?" "Well --" "Well what?" "Well, she's a damn hyena. They're five beers short of a six-pack on their best days when it comes to sanity, but Farmer's got her own sense of honor, and she promised me she'd help. I'm going to owe her big time, but she'll help just because she finds it amusing." "She needs to get Trina alone and establish a trust with her. She needs to find out what Trina's Word was, and exactly whom she gave it to." "I thought you said she probably gave it to that rotten kid of yours." "Not necessarily. Tarrin has grown arrogant. If he truly sees himself as the rightful king, then he may have made a classic blunder." The Shepherd wrote a set of instructions down. The Alpha was confused by it all, but he trusted the Shepherd to know more about how elvish politics worked than he did. "Do you think Farmer can do it?" "Can she?" the Alpha replied. "Yes. How? I have no idea. But I guarantee you, it'll be weird." --------- ------------------------- In the Yukon territory . . . --------- ------------------------- Vanesse awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. She was still tired and already irritable. The hyenas down in the barn were apparently capable of sleeping through a natural disaster, such as . . . well, such as a pack of werehyenas. They were noisy even in sleep, with any member periodically letting out that erie cackle in place of a snore. "What?!" she snarled. Trina poked her head in, looking a bit pale and actually a bit bluish. "Farmer is up and wanting to get moving. She asked that I wake you and make sure you're ready to go." "Farmer can kiss my royal ass," Vanesse muttered, covering her head with her pillow. "I'll pass that along," the battle-dancer said with complete seriousness, then closed the door. "Wait!" the Princess yelped, getting out of bed and hurrying towards the door, wrapped only in a sheet that had been provided by whoever their host was. Trina opened the door, having expected something like this. She was refraining from smiling, but she also had to refrain from drawing a rapid breath. Even fresh out of bed with her hair mussed and her eyes slightly red, Vanesse was an exquisite vision. Her breasts pressed against the sheet, struggling to be free, and her nipples caused ever-so-slight tents to form in the off-white fabric. Her arms were so smooth and looked so soft -- "Yes?" Trina said, corralling her stray thoughts. "Don't you dare EEK!" she shouted. It just occurred to her that she was standing in the doorway with nothing but Trina and a sheet blocking the appreciative views of thirty-plus werehyenas. "Take it off!" someone shouted, while a few others started making the sounds of stereotypical porn flicks. Vanesse had no frame of reference for that music, but she had a feeling it was naughty somehow. "All right clowns," Farmer shouted, sounding amused as always, "leave the 'lady' alone," she continued, putting big air quotes around "lady." "Besides, I think you're supposed to tip her on the stage to get her to take something off." Vanesse straightened her spine, but was unable to stop from blushing. She did not know what Farmer meant, but she was sure it was not flattering. "How's your back?" she asked calmly, getting a laugh out of the crowd. The previous evening, she had pushed the pack leader off the ledge, much to the delight of every onlooker. "Excellent! I'd been having problems with it for a while. I figured you'd be the one to put your hands on me and straighten things out." When Vanesse looked totally confused, Trina rolled her eyes, leaned over, and whispered something in the Princess's ear. Vanesse's eyes opened wide. "Oh you . . . Augh!" she shouted, retreating further into the loft so that no one could see her. Trina joined her for a moment, had a conversation, then returned to the main room. Farmer met the battle-dancer at the base of the ladder. "I like her." "I can tell. You know, if you put gum in her hair or shoot spit balls, it would really show her how you feel," Trina replied, her face calm and collected. Farmer guffawed. It seemed to Trina that the werehyena leader spent most of her days laughing at something or another. "Sweet Jesus, you would've made a great packmate. Too bad you can't convert elves," Farmer wheezed, rubbing her eyes. "Okay, seriously though. Is Miss Priss ready to roll?" "She should be. Believe it or not, the title of princess doesn't apply to her for how long it takes her to get ready, but she will need bathing facilities." "Ain't any, so she'll just have to do without like the rest of us." "I was wondering what that smell was. I thought maybe you had brought back an animal carcass and rolled around in it." Farmer grinned. "I don't mind rolling with fresh meat," she said, looking up and down Trina's athletic body. She was a lover with a great many tastes, and Trina did look tasty. "It's no wonder to see how why a bunch of smelly hyenas find you so charming," the battle-dancer replied, rolling her eyes. "And you probably want to find some kind of shower facilities at least. Otherwise . . . well, it won't be pleasant." "You think I'm afraid of your Princess's wrath?" "Remember how she would not talk at all yesterday?" "Yeah. So?" "It will be the exact opposite of that. She hates going without a bath, and she usually does it twice a day. Without even one . . . well, she will complain. And complain. And complain. It won't be fun or entertaining conversation. It will just be continuous, monotonous complaint after --" "Okay, I get it! Jeez, she's a little taskmaster, isn't she?" "Like a drill sergeant. And please, don't make a 'I'd like to drill her' joke right now, because I'd be forced to hurt you." "Am I that obvious?" "Would saying 'yes' hurt your feelings?" "Yes." "Then yes," Trina finished. Farmer was laughing again. "Fine, there's a bunch of truck stops that have shower areas available. We'll stop at one of those, but that's the best she's getting. Deal?" "Deal." The werehyena matriarch looked over this elf again. "And later, you and I need to have a little conversation." Suddenly, Trina was on her guard a bit. "About?" "You know what about." Trina looked up toward the door that Vanesse would be coming through at any moment. "I'm not sure that is a good idea." "Good idea or no, I want to know what's going on." "Don't we all," Trina said, her voice cold rather than indifferent. Farmer looked her over and then stepped into the battle-dancer's personal space. There was no laughing now, but there was tension. The black woman's breasts were pushed against Trina's, but the elf was not about to back down. "I have a lot of ways of getting information out of someone, so think very carefully about how you want to play this. I would much rather be your friend than your enemy, but I do have a job to do." And just like that, she turned away and headed over to talk to Jack. Trina let out a breath very, very slowly. She had forgotten for a while that despite her jovial outer personality, Farmer was an incredibly dangerous predator. A new matriarch was crowned only when the old one was defeated in battle and driven out of the pack or killed. To do that and then to develop a pack this large and powerful, one that could cross the boundaries of the territorial lord with apparent impunity, meant that she was powerful indeed. Fighting a strong lycanthrope was difficult, but Trina had never faced anyone quite as dominant as this werehyena woman. The thought actually made her a little fearful, but she quickly suppressed the sensation. You did not show fear to creatures such as this if you wanted to survive. The drive to the truck stop took about an hour, the going made slower by poor road conditions. If anything could be offered as concrete proof that the werehyenas were insane, it was the fact that they had no apparent issue with the idea of driving motorcycles in these conditions. The drive was also quiet. Farmer kept looking at the rear-view mirror, often to find Trina staring back at her with intentionally blank eyes. Vanesse, for her part, realized that the tense silence had nothing to do with her this time, which was driving her curiosity up the wall, but she did not want to say anything and give Farmer the satisfaction of Vanesse starting a conversation. When they got to the truck stop and saw the set of shower stalls, however, the Princess decided she had something to say. "You're kidding, right?" "Your Highness, these are the only facilities that were readily available to us. We're not likely to find anything more suitable." "In other words, deal with it," Farmer summarized. "You two can take the end stall for yourselves. Everyone else," she said, looking around the lot, "I expect you to behave yourselves. Will consider this our monthly cleaning --" "Monthly?!" Vanesse gulped. "-- so make sure to get those hard to reach spots under the fat rolls --" The Princess fled down the hall. "Wait, don't you want to hear about the toe-cheese removal?" Farmer shouted after her. "Honestly, you'd think she'd have more interest in proper grooming." Trina followed her fleeing comrade to the last stall, which was large enough that there were three spouts and a place to put dry clothes. They had been given some money for the single-shot shampoo dispenser, but that (and soap) were about all the luxuries they had. "But . . . but what about conditioner?" Vanesse muttered. "I need my Bed Head. You know I need my Bed Head." Trina looked at the Princess closely. "Looks like you've already got it." For the first time in a while, Vanesse laughed at Trina's joke. "I'm getting enough crap from her, I don't need it from you too." "I have seniority on giving you crap. Farmer will just have to wait in line." Vanesse smiled, then gave Trina a hug. "Sorry I've been cross. I've just been scared and confused." "You have every right to be," the battle-dancer said. She paused, needing to say something to give her some time. "Your Highness --" "Okay, stop with the formal titles. Even when I'm mad at you, it's creepy hearing you say them." "Okay Vanesse. I just want . . . no, I need you to know that you can trust me. No matter what, you are my first priority. You always have been, you always will be." "I . . . thank you," the Princess replied. "I just wish you had told . . . me." Her eyes opened wide, and Trina actually looked relieved. "Your Word. You didn't tell me certain things because you gave your Word. But why?" She realized that was a dumb question, and Trina made no move to respond. "Sorry, you probably can't say why any more than you can say what." She hugged the girl again. "I should've known. You've always been there for me. I'll bet you're trying to figure a way around it, so I'll just let it go. For now." "Go ahead and shower," the battle-dancer said. "I'll stand guard." "Oh don't be silly. There's plenty of room for two, and it's not like we haven't seen each other naked before. Who is going to attack me at a truck-stop when they have to go through a pack of naked werehyenas to do it?" "Your logic is . . . disturbing. Still, I should remain vigilant." "Don't be silly. You might as well shower at the same time, because you WILL be showering too, and would you rather me be waiting out here alone when you do?" Trina actually saw logic to that statement, which probably meant that she was really tired and hallucinating. But she followed her friend inside and they both stripped. The stall actually seemed fairly well maintained, and the water was suitably warm to ease some of the aches and pains she had acquired in her first night of overwatch mode. Unfortunately, it was hard to concentrate when she was naked in the same room with Vanesse. The Princess's unbelievable curves always made her feel self-conscious, and . . . well, it made her feel other things. She had managed to lose herself for a moment when the door behind her opened. Instantly, she grabbed one of her shoes from the nearby chair and hurled it at the intruder. "Owh!" Farmer said as she was hit squarely in the forehead with a tennis shoe. "It's me!" "I know," Trina said, her tone neutral. "That's why I didn't miss." "How rude." Trina glanced over and saw that Vanesse was staring. Why not? After all, Farmer was just standing there in all her glory, including the functional penis hanging lazily between her legs. Vanesse was trying not to stare with all the power in her being, and not just at that dark brown snake she had seen in action the night before. Farmer was a beautiful woman after all, and she always had a look of mischief about her that was enticing. "I'm sure you have a reason for disturbing her Highness," Trina said, putting herself between the lycanthrope and her friend. She was not afraid that Farmer was here to hurt Vanesse, but she did not like how the werehyena was looking at the Princess. "Just figured that there was an extra shower in here, and since we're trying to hurry this along that I'd join you two. Seeing as you've already seen ME naked," Farmer apparently enjoyed making Vanesse blush, because that was what she had just managed to do. Again. "You were putting on a display in public. This is private," Trina said. "Awh, what's the matter? Shy?" "Trina, let it be," Vanesse said. "I'm almost done." "She should show some respect," Trina replied, her voice becoming more and more frigid. Farmer thought this a peculiar situation. Normally, Trina seemed like the more laid back of the two elves, but now she seemed to be wound very tight. "I promise not to look," the werehyena said, turning around and switching on the last shower. While the werehyena stayed true to her word by keeping her eyes closed, Trina noticed Vanesse was doing plenty of looking. The Princess's eyes lingered on the tight backside and legs of their captor, occasionally glimpsing at the heavy tool that swayed between those legs. Even when she was toweling off and getting dressed, she was obviously fascinated. "Like what you see?" Farmer said, her eyes still closed. She could smell that tell-tale signs of arousal, even over the soap and the steam. Vanesse blushed a bit, then grinned evilly. On her way out, she walked over and turned off the hot water to Farmer's shower, then quickly exited as her victim howled with indignity as serious shrinkage occurred. Cold weather was one thing. Cold water on the genitalia was something else. "Okay, that was just mean," Trina said as they exited the shower area to find Jack, Alani, and about a dozen freshly showered werehyenas waiting to make sure they did not make a run for it. "Guys, where would we go?" Trina asked exasperatedly. It's hundreds of miles to anything, and it's freezing outside. " She threw her hands up. "You took out almost a fourth of the pack in hand-to-hand combat," Jack said. "With you, we don't take any chances." Vanesse felt a small bit of jealousy. Why wasn't anyone afraid of her? Of course, Trina was the one who had been trained for forty years to be dangerous. But damn it, she was a necromancer, so she could . . . well . . . 'I don't know any useful combat magic at all,' she realized. That thought made her feel angry and helpless at the same time. "Hey, are you allowed to talk about it?" Jack continued excitedly. "Could you narrow 'it' down a bit?" Trina muttered, browsing through the beef jerky. "You're training," Jack explained. "I've never seen a battle-dancer in action before, and it was amazing." He looked around at his fellow hyenas. "Of course, I wasn't one of the ones you busted up." "Well, the day is still young," the battle-dancer replied. "Ooh, donuts." Then she noticed something. "Hey, why isn't everyone more . . . well, hurt?" "Everyone shifted last night while you were sleeping. It takes care of most damage, assuming it wasn't caused by silver or fire." Trina smiled. "Good to know." "So can you talk about it?" "You're more like a puppy than a hyena, did you know that? Why would I want to tell you anything about my fighting style?" "Because it's wickedly cool! You don't have to show me anything, I'm just curious about the music." Trina honored him with an arched eyebrow. "What about it?" "Are you imagining a specific song when you fight, or is it just notes? Do you pick the song, or --" "It's not like a radio station," she replied dryly, handing him some supplies, which consisted of peppered beef jerky, a 12-pack of Dr. Pepper, a dozen chocolate glazed donuts, a knitted hat with a maple leaf on the front, a pack of playing cards, a -- The Best Medicine Ch. 02 "I don't think so," Jack said. "What?" "I remind you that it takes us longer to heal from fire and silver, and you buy a lighter with silver edging?" "Can't blame a girl for trying." She sighed when he put the lighter back and then looked at her expectantly. "It's not so much listening to music in your head as letting it move through you. Battle, fighting, combat . . . it all moves in a rhythm. Beating hearts, stomping feet, gunfire, clashing weapons, all of it making a sound. Music. Like any music, it can become familiar, and you can figure out what the next note is supposed to be. We have a music playing inside our heads and in our hearts, and we try to impose our music on the music of the fight. Once we control the rhythm, we control the fight." Jack looked like he almost followed, but not quite. "So if I had a song in my head --" "It would be looking for your brain," Trina said firmly. "In vain." "Ouch! You're almost as mean to me as Farmer." "A girl's got to have goals." "Well, she and I have sex occasionally --" "But there's something to be said for blazing a new trail," Trina said, trying to control the warmth in her skin. Jack was a pretty nice looking man, with muscles in places that some doctor's couldn't identify. And he was so in-your-face enthusiastic and friendly. In a "Hey, me an my boss have kidnapped you and your princess" kind of way. "I thought that Alani and Farmer had a . . . thing." "Oh, they both have things," Jack said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Are you, like, five years old?" Despite her complaint, she couldn't help but smile. A little. "Farmer gets first pick, pretty much always. They like each other, but they fuck . . . well, pretty much anyone they like who's interested. And that's a lot of people. So, why wouldn't the song idea --" "Because it has to be incorporated into your mental state over years of practice. Thinking you can translate that into battle-dancing is like sitting in a bathtub and thinking that qualifies you to swim in the ocean." Trina looked a little wistful. "The real thing moves you. You just need to know how to move with it." Jack looked at her admiringly. "Okay, you really turned me on right now." "Men!" she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "And put the lighter back." Trina grumbled about most men not being that observant and put the lighter back in the tray. Vanesse poked her head over the candy isle. "Have you gotten the dark chocolate yet?" "No," Trina said, looking around wildly. "I'm so sorry. I --" "It's all right. You got the donuts, and that's a damn good start." "I remember you saying just a few weeks ago that you missed donuts." Vanesse smiled so big that her dimples were on full display. "If all battle-dancers had your memory, more of our nobility would be fat." "I have some ideas that might help work off some of those calories," Farmer said, appearing from nowhere and tossing a startled elvish princess a huge bag of dark chocolate M&Ms. "And my version of exercise is pretty sweet." She stepped up close so that her body was just an inch from Vanesse's. "That was . . . well, kinda cold, by-the-by." "You're a big girl," Vanesse said, trying to stay calm though she felt a slight trembling in her skin. "It probably wasn't your first cold shower, and it certainly won't be your last." "You could always warm me up," Farmer whispered into Vanesse's ear. Trina interjected herself, squeezing between the werehyena and the Princess. "Why don't you go finish yourself off? But touch the Princess and I swear --" "Swear what?" Farmer said, her breath quickening and her eyes dilating. "Trina, it's okay," Vanesse said, uncomfortable with this tense turn of events. "She was just being . . . her." "It's not okay. She should show you a little more respect," Trina said. She was being stupid, since Vanesse seemed to be willing and able to handle herself. Heck, she even seemed to enjoy sparring with the woman. It . . . it just bothered her the way that Farmer was looking at Vanesse. "Respect is earned, not given away because of whose womb spat you out," leveled Farmer. The werehyena found Trina was now occupying space just a centimeter from her face. "Don't you dare insult her OR her mother like that," Trina said. Vanesse was dumbfounded. She did not know how this had happened so fast, and she had never seen Trina so angry that she trembled with it. "I will speak however about whomever I like," Farmer said, her nostrils flaring. "And you can just stand there and like it." Trina clenched a fist. "If I hadn't given my Word --" "You'd be bleeding by now," Farmer finished. "I think that I've been very polite so far. You do NOT want that to change." "Or what? You'll scold me some more? You really think you can punish me?" "Trust me, putting you across my knee could be enjoyable, but that's not what I had in mind." "Just try it. Whatever it is you have in mind, just try it." Suddenly, Farmer grinned again. "What, and let you out of your Word with a blank check? Oh, you're good. I lay one hand on you, and you're not bound to cooperate anymore." It was a clever plan. It was also, Vanesse realized, wrong. Trina was not faking being angry, and what would be the point of winning their freedom here, so far from anywhere? The innuendos about Vanesse had angered the battle-dancer. The disparaging remark about Vanesse's mother had been the trigger. "You can dictate the terms of the fight," Trina practically hissed. "It was part of my Word." "So it was." Farmer looked down at her adversary. "You really want to do this?" "Name your terms," came the firm reply. "Jack," the pack leader said, "check the maps. Find me a campground or public park. Something nearby. It's time to teach someone a lesson." "Wait, stop!" Vanesse said, her voice rising in panic. "This is ridiculous! Trina, I forbid you from carrying through with this. How are you supposed to protect me if you're hurt or . . . or worse? And you," she added pointing her finger in Farmer's face. "You said that you wouldn't hurt us --" "I said that I wouldn't hurt you," Farmer corrected. "She's just along for the ride because I felt sorry for her, but I also didn't want her following us all over hellfire and creation. And your pet battle-dancer just called me out. I don't back down from challenges. Not now, not ever. So give her permission to fight, or I'm just going to beat on her until I get tired." Vanesse just stood there and stared for a moment. "You are a monster," she whispered, her eyes wide open. "I didn't believe . . . you would do that, wouldn't you? Beat up someone who couldn't defend herself? That the spirits that WE at least have come a little further than our savage ancestry," the Princess continued, glaring daggers at Farmer. "I know what I am," Farmer replied heatedly. "And I've been looked down on by better than you. And this cub needs to learn some manners. The two of you have had it easy thus far because I found you amusing. I'm not laughing now." She nodded to Jack, an unspoken message passing between them. The two elves were escorted out to the SUV without any of the odds and ends they had been requesting. Farmer was different. She had always seemed so loose and relaxed, but now . . . now had purpose. She seemed more solid, more wild, and the air around her crackled with power. They passed a set of truck-drivers who reeked of . . . well, something. They gave each traveler a wary eye, but backed the hell out of the way when Farmer came through. "Fuckin' goblins," Jack muttered when they got into the SUV. "Smell like hell." Vanesse wanted to ask about that, but decided not to. She had forgotten that she was a kidnapped woman, but now her captors were reminding her of their true colors. But why had Trina gotten involved in this? They pulled off into a picnic area not far down the road from the truck stop, and bikes quickly blocked off the entrances. The remaining individuals made their way to a flat spot behind the protecting tree-line. "Okay, I'm letting you fight," Farmer said angrily. "We fight to incapacitate, so no killing blows. I don't want the Princess whining for the next week about how I killed her best friend. And we go until one of us can't stand up. Got it?" Trina moved causally into her fighting stance. She wished suddenly that she had been able to control her temper. She had not liked the words that had come out of Vanesse's mouth regarding the werehyena. This was not about Farmer being from a "lesser species." It was about Trina's jealousy and pride. "Oh, why don't we up the stakes a bit?" Farmer asked casually. "You win, I release you from your Word, and you and the Princess are free to go." Vanesse and Trina both froze, almost literally. What was this about? "But if I win," the pack leader continued, "then YOU must give your Word to answer any question that I ask with complete honesty for twenty-four hours." Trina was suspicious, but even though she was sure she could win, she needed a stipulation. "Assuming that answering that question does not interfere with any Word I have currently given. And no, this is not me chickening out. Without that stipulation, I simply cannot agree." "Done. Jack, get this party started." "Lay on!" the tattooed man shouted. The barking began almost instantly, that high, cackling, braying laughter of the hyenas as every present member of Joker's Wild began to cheer on their boss. Vanesse just prayed to whatever gods and goddesses that had not abandoned her to see Trina safe. Farmer approached in a boxer's stance, throwing a set of blows that Trina easily avoided. The elf was pulling in the sounds, from the crunching of snow beneath their feet to the barking to the almost-silent breaths of her best friend. She could hear Farmer's heart beating loud and clear, and she could hear . . . she could hear music. Trina rolled forward and kicked up with her feet, landing both heels in Farmer's gut, sending the lycanthrope flying off of her feet. Farmer rolled backwards and then landed on her feet. She was smiling again. "Sorry," Trina said before she could stop herself. "Sorry?" Farmer asked quizzically. "I . . . fuck!" Trina said, moving on the offense. She always apologized when she hurt someone, even when she meant to. She ran towards Farmer, who charged her in return. The werehyena went for a forearm shot, but Trina slid along the ground, performing a scissor kick that sent Farmer toppling to the snow. This allowed Trina to reverse directions, sliding over her opponent's back and elbowing her in the back of the head when the woman tried to raise her torso off of the ground. When Farmer tried again, she was met with a two-footed mule kick to the face. Trina was surprised when Farmer bounced back up to her feet. That last kick should have at least knocked some teeth loose, but the werehyena's smile was intact, made obvious by that ear-to-ear grin. "This is gonna be fun after all," Farmer said. Then she let loped forward, her charge like an avalanche that built momentum as it got closer. And it came fast, so fast that Trina had to block rather than dodge. That turned out to be a mistake. The werehyena matriarch's clothesline went straight into Trina's block, then proceeded to send her tumbling ten feet through the air, where she only barely landed on her feet. 'Fuck,' Trina thought, her upper arm throbbing in pain, 'that was like getting hit by a bull moose.' She watched as Farmer charged again. Trina listened to the beat of the footsteps, and she knew exactly when the next note would arrive. She jumped six-feet straight up in the air and drop-kicked Farmer in the face, flipping over and landing on her feet, then drop-kicking the reeling woman again, but this time in the knees. "Sorry!" "Damn she's beautiful," Jack said admiringly. Vanesse, who was sitting next to him, found herself concurring. She rarely got to see Trina practice, much less fight a serious challenger. Where Farmer was all power and aggression, Trina was so incredibly fluid, the epitome of motion in a perfect package. Farmer rushed again, this time keeping her shoulder low and her eyes forward. She was hunting now. When Trina tried to kick again, she swatted the offending leg out of the way, then shoulder-blocked Trina in the side. Trina managed to spin to avoid the full brunt of the attack, but it obviously hurt. "See," the werehyena said, "I'm NOT sorry." Trina punched her in the nose. "I am, and you will be," she snarled. "What is it with you and my nose?!" Farmer held her nose and came away with a bit of blood. "That's twice!" She threw a punch to the center of the elf's chest, knocking her for a loop. But when she tried to close the distance, the battle-dancer actually cartwheeled away, landing a heel kick on Farmer's jaw as she went. The fight went on like this for a while, with Trina dancing and striking with speed and precision, while Farmer kept raining heavy blows whenever she could. But Vanesse could see that her friend was getting tired, while Farmer seemed to be as strong as ever. She would periodically let out a bark to her adoring supporters -- 'That's it!' Vanesse realized, 'She's drawing power from them. The more they bark, the stronger she gets. That's cheating!' But she had nothing to counter it. She was just a necromancer, and there was no magic she could cast that applied. "Trina, the hyenas are pumping her up!" Trina had actually already come to that conclusion. All she could do was to try and take their noise and make her own music with it. But she was tired, and all the moves she had that might end this were killing blows. The symphony was breaking down, and she realized that she was missing notes. Things did not sound quite right, like the warbling of an elementary school band. That was when she heard the tolling of a bell, a single source of an infinitely deep ringing. It was the note that a battle-dancer heard in the last moment. Someone was about to die. Trina's battered and bruised face looked up and around. Farmer was out of reach for a moment, so she was not the immediate threat. Where was the death note tolling from? She reached out with all her senses and just listened. There it was, the clapper of the bell. The clapper was made up of metal clicking, as the hammer of a gun was drawn back. Farmer was utterly perplexed. She was winning, but she had still seen fire in her opponent's eyes. Damn, this woman was a fighter. But now, Trina was looking around wildly, confused but searching. Both women saw it at the same time . . . a small red dot moving across the snow towards -- "Vanesse!" Trina shouted, hurling herself towards her friend, jumping just before a shot rang through the cold Canadian air. The Princess screamed as three holes appeared in her best friend, a small cluster that might otherwise have appeared in Vanesse's head. The hyenas all began barking in rage, looking towards the tree line. At least three figures took off, running for their dear lives. "Bring them back!" Farmer snarled. For as long as she lived, Vanesse would remember the sound that came next. Thirty werehyenas began to shift into their half-forms, huge, hulking monstrosities with the bodies of enormous humans and the heads of hyenas. And they were all laughing. They were laughing as they tore through the forests with those loping gaits, hunting their prey. "Trina?!" the Princess shouted, running to her friend's side. The battle-dancer was not moving, and blood spilled from the holes in arm, shoulder, and chest. And from around the bullet-holes, there appeared to be dark, almost black veins emanating in every direction. "Iron poisoning," Alani whispered, kneeling next to the other two. "What the fuck?" "Iron poisoning?" Vanesse whimpered, reaching out to hold Trina's hand, almost vomiting when blood spurting from the woman's mouth. "Yeah, it means whoever did this was coming to kill elves. Iron doesn't do shit to lycanthropes," Farmer said, her voice calm but tinged with rage. "Fuck it, you've never done healing?" "No," Vanesse replied, crying openly. "Trina, stay with me. Please, stay with me. I need you! I can't do this without you!" she screamed, waving her other arm. "Alani, let's get her to the car, and then the first aid kid out. I'll need some alcohol and a lighter also. Let's move!" Farmer shouted. "What are you doing?" Vanesse said, helping to gently lift her best friend and guardian off of the blood soaked ground. "If we can get the damn bullets out of her, she might stand a chance," Farmer replied. "Can you at least prepare for a Major Work?" "I . . . but she can't pay a price, at least not now! She's already dying!" Vanesse whispered to herself as much as anyone, "and I can't pay it. The caster can't . . . oh spirits, I'd pay anything to keep her." For all her bluster, Farmer's heart broke a little with that. This was no uptight, spoiled Princess no matter how much she pretended to be. No self-righteous noble would sacrifice anything for a servant, and Farmer realized now that Vanesse would probably sacrifice everything. "I'll pay it," she told the crying woman. "If it comes to that, I'll pay the price." Vanesse was unable to move, and could only watch as the hyenas loaded Trina's unearthly pale form into the back of the SUV, the back seat hastily removed to make space. Farmer was ripping clothes apart while someone else started up the motor to get things warmed up. The matriarch was moving with a smooth purpose, making Vanesse realize that she had done this before. "You know what you're doing?" she asked, climbing into the back. Farmer nodded. "I'm a doctor." "What? You mean . . . a real doctor?" "Graduated from Johns Hopkins at the top of my class," the werehyena informed her, cleaning a spot around the chest wound and reaching into a substantial first-aid kit for a long pair of tweezers. She stopped to give a shot of pain killer to the patient, as Trina began to moan in obvious, intense pain. It took her a while, but Farmer got all three bullets, then she poured a liquid into the wounds, which got Trina to scream. A quick flick of a lighter caused a small fireball to appear around each wound, cauterizing them. "She needs blood," Farmer said. "What's her blood type?" "We don't have blood types," Vanesse explained, her eyes red and burning from her tears. "Elves are universal donors," Alani explained to her boss. "It means they can take blood from anyone and give it to anyone." "I need --" Farmer started to say, then saw Jack leaning over the middle seat and offering his arm. "Go for it," he said. "You can really do this here?' Vanesse asked, brushing hair from Trina's face. "We've been in more fights in more situations than you can probably imagine. I've done this before," Farmer said, still all business. "Jack, I'll need you in the back, lying next to her. Vanesse, I need you to clear out. No arguments. Alani, find me a place for us to hole up for a while." Being helpless was about as bad a feeling as Vanesse had ever experienced. She moved the middle seat and leaned over, watching as Farmer set up a system of tubes and pumps she had pulled out of a hidden storage area under the cargo area of the vehicle. Soon, blood was flowing from Jack to the ailing elf maiden, and all Vanesse could do was pray. 'No,' she thought, 'I can do more.' She reached out her hand to touch Trina's forehead, but Farmer swatted it away. "If you even think of giving her pure life-force to help her get over this, putting you in as much danger as she's in, and so help me by whatever gods you hold sacred that I will slap you silly." Then Farmer's tone softened. "If you start pouring raw power into her, her system might not be able to handle it right now." The Best Medicine Ch. 02 Vanesse gulped a heavy breath. That was exactly what she had planned on doing, and she had not even thought of the consequences. The hyena hunting party returned, carrying what appeared to be the goblin truckers they had seen earlier that day. The sight of them made Vanesse's blood start to boil over. "Alani, keep those things away from the Princess, and keep her away from them," the werehyena added, seeing the look of bloody mayhem on Vanesse's face. Bud and Ace oversaw the containment of the prisoners while everyone else either guarded the SUV or guarded the entrance. Apparently, the truckers had followed at a discreet distance, parked their rigs in another area, then had crossed over to the sounds of fighting. They must have seen the bikes and known where they were. Once Trina was stabilized, Farmer grimly walked over to the captives. She grabbed one and, with as much effort as most people would have removed a sheet of paper towel, she ripped the goblin's arms off. She then beat the screaming creature to death with his own limbs. Vanesse leaned out the door of the SUV and vomited. "That," Farmer started, "was for ruining a perfectly good fight. Now which of you will pay for hurting a perfectly good battle-dancer while trying to off MY kidnap victim, and which of you will try to put me into a better mood by cooperating and telling me absolutely everything I want to know?" The two goblins start pouring their black little hearts out. Apparently there were any number of rewards out in regards to Princess. Most were of the variety involved the Princess getting turned over to the Crown or to individual Lords who sought favor with the crown. Then there were a few rewards sent out by other would-be kidnappers, but there was one out there that would only be handed out in the case of the Princess's death. That reward was huge, and there was a convoluted set of steps required to either inquire about or collect payment on. "Okay, you guys gave me a lot of information, but since neither of you answered my question --" Farmer stopped, pulled a gun out from under her vest, then blew holes in both of their heads. She turned when she heard Vanesse gasp. "Remember Princess, the bullets that went into your best friend were meant for your head. Don't be mourning these little thugs quite yet." The SUV slowly began to move, with Alani behind the wheel while Farmer stayed in back to keep an eye on the patient. Vanesse looked at the dark-skinned beauty, confused and intrigued, but most of all, grateful. "So you're really a doctor? How? . I mean --" "My guidance counselor in high school said I should, and those folks are never wrong," Farmer said, giving a slight smirk. "But just to be safe, a fortune cookie told me that someday, I would hand out drugs. At the time, it all seemed to be indicating convergence." Vanesse's eyes drifted over Trina's face. "You're beginning to sound like her." "I was sounding like that first." The Princess smiled slightly. "She's fifty years old. I'd say she got there first." Farmer raised her eyebrows. "Forgot how slow you folks mature. How old are you?" "Thirty." "Don't mean to sound mean . . . well, not this time, but you seem a lot younger. You act a lot younger." "I've been out of circulation for a long time. I guess I lack life experience." "Well, you're getting some now." "How did you go from being a doctor to being a ruffian?" Farmer actually laughed at that. "I was always a ruffian. I just used to be a lot more civilized about it. But seriously, I was always the idealist in my youth. You know, compassion and what-not and thinking I can change the world. Then I did a stint in Africa with Doctors Without Borders, and found out a life lesson." "Which was?" "The world doesn't need my help changing," Farmer said, her voice actually sounding sad. "Whenever we say that we want to change the world, and by 'we' I meant the human race at the time, we generally mean that we want to save ourselves. The problem is, humanity doesn't really want to be saved. They're so hung up on their own self-importance to do shit about the planet. And once you've seen the aftermath of an African conflict, you begin to wonder if they're really worth saving anyway." "That's kind of harsh, isn't it?" Vanesse was surprised more and more by this woman, but a cynical view seemed unlike her normally jovial nature. "It's how I see it. You see enough villages burnt to the ground, the women and girls raped, the boys forced into militias, and the men killed out of hand, all for what? So many of the groups in conflict don't even remember why they hate each other." Farmer looked down. "I was actually kidnapped by one warlord's men. They decided that I'd make a nice present for their boss. A local village woman who's granddaughter I'd helped through a really bad infection decided to call in what she believed was her debt to me and came after me. Turns out she was the matriarch of a werehyena pack. She rescued me and then . . . then she changed me." "She . . . did she give you a choice?" "Yeah, sort of. I was scared out of my mind, and I had NO idea what I was getting into. I wound up leaving her pack because it was either that or kill her. Came back to the United States, realized that I could never go back to the way my life was before. I hit the open road, picking up strays as I went." "In some cases literally," Jack said, laying still next to Trina. When Vanesse looked at Farmer, the matriarch was grinning. "That would be Doreen, this cute little thing I found in Gorman, Texas." She pointed out the window at a biker off the right hand side, a pretty blond girl who would have looked more at home in a cheerleader outfit than on top of a motorcycle. "Boss," Alani said from the passenger side, pointing something out to Bud. Her ear was pressed to a satellite phone. "Friend of mine in real estate just found us an abandoned ski lodge registered up here. It's about twenty kilometers, but there's not likely to be anyone there." "It'll have to do. Get directions to the guys riding point." "Other news, we may need to be there for a while. We've got a big storm coming in." "Fuck!" Farmer growled. Trina was in bad shape, and this was not going to help. She needed to contact the Alpha, since the death of the battle-dancer was certainly going to be deemed unacceptable. And more importantly, Farmer did not want the woman to die. Trina was a pretty funny smart-ass, when she was not calling Farmer out at any rate. "Get there, and get there now." Trina remained frightfully pale and unconscious until they pulled off the main road and down a poorly maintained road leading off into the woods. The lodge they found had seen better days, but the walls still stood and the roof was intact. A big "For Sale" sign decorated the way in, but it did not look like the place had many visitors scoping it out. There was still a fine layer of snow on the road, disturbed only by animal tracks. "You ten," Farmer said, the moment she got out of the SUV, "I want you finding firewood. I'm sure the fireplaces still work. "Bud and Ace, take two more and head down the road to the next truck stop, or a town if you find one. I want supplies. Pay cash, don't start trouble. Oh, and make sure to get plenty of batteries for the satellite phones. Doreen, take three and scavenge the lodge, see what got left behind that might be usable. Alani, head back up to the entrance to the driveway and do what you can about hiding our tracks, visual and scent. If you figure something out, cover our asses once Bud and his crew get back." "What about me?" Vanesse asked quietly. "You and Jack find anything that can hold water, since we'll be needing it. Once you find stuff, fill it with snow and put it next to the fires. It ain't gonna be great, but it'll be the only fresh water we have for a bit." Vanesse marveled at how Farmer had taken charge of the situation. She was strong, authoritative, and everything that Vanesse was not. That struck home, but she was not going to let it stop her. She and Jack went looking for water containers while the rest of the werehyenas started to patrol. "Are you okay?" Vanesse asked, looking at the bandage over Jack's arm, taped up to stop the slight bleeding. "I'm good. We heal quickly. I just need to get some meat in me, and I've got a feeling that Farmer will authorize a hunt later." "This is all my fault," Vanesse said. "If I had just stayed put --" "We really didn't give you much of an option." "We were planning on running away anyway." Jack stopped. "Huh?" "I . . . It's been so long since I was part of the world. I wanted to understand why everyone had turned against the elves. I just couldn't believe that they were as bad as my uncle said." "And you're uncle is the King?" "Yeah." "Well like Farmer said, the other races haven't turned against the elves. Honestly we're all way too busy worrying about the Unveiling." "What's that?" "The Unveiling? Surely you've heard . . . maybe you haven't. Not if you've been isolated. About six months ago, the Council announced that it's time to come out to the humans. Figured we can't hide anymore." "I heard one of the guard's rumbling about that, but I thought the notion had been shot down. I know that my uncle wants the elves to go deeper into hiding." "Nowhere left to hide, in my humble opinion," Jack said, opening up some cupboards in the kitchen, looking for supplies. "Of course, I think this whole thing is going to lead to a cluster fuck, but that's why they're doing it with a test audience. Some big shot vampire and his household down in Georgia are making the initial pitch to some guys in the government. You know, work out a plan." "Lord Stapleton? He was the last one in charge, back before . . . before my isolation began," Vanesse said. She had almost said, "Before my parents died," but those were memories she did not want to revisit. "That's him. Anyway, he's pretty much the biggest territorial lord on the planet now. I mean, between leading the unveiling and looking after the Greater Dragons --" Vanesse was so startled that she tripped over a warped floorboard and crashed into the ground. "Greater Dragons?!" "Oh yeah. They're back, or so I'm hearing. Access to them is limited, but some yahoo thought that if he had some pet dragons, he could take over the surrounding territories. Turns out that they managed to hatch some petrified eggs, but Lord Stapleton beat his ass down with the help of Shadow Wing --" "The last Moon Dragon is back?!" "You HAVE been out of it, haven't you? Yeah, one of Stapleton's git inherited the power. She's supposedly the most badass baby vampire ever. But she's looking over the eggs that have hatched." "How . . . how many?" "Don't know." Vanesse sat on the cold tile, rubbing her wrist she had used to brace her fall. "I've missed out on everything. What kind of ruler could I be if I don't know what the hell's going on? Why would my uncle not tell me these things? Why wouldn't Trina --" She stopped there. She knew why Trina hadn't said anything. Now she just wanted to know why Trina had given her Word to the King. Elsewhere, Trina was slowly opening her eyes, though the world was still kind of blurry. She was surprisingly warm, but incredibly weakened. She felt a firm surface pressed against her back -- "What the hell?" she whispered. "Glad to see you're still with us," Farmer said from behind her. When Trina looked like she wanted to struggle, Farmer kept her locked in a tight embrace. She had found a small room with its own fireplace, which was currently being lit by one of her boys. "I'm not trying anything, no matter how tempting," she said warmly. "I just needed to keep your temperature up, and this was the best way I could think of until that fire is going." The idea made sense, even to Trina's addled brain. And the sensation was somewhat pleasant. She shook that thought. "Where --" "Vanesse is okay, and she's off looking for something to keep water in. We're holed up in an old ski-lodge, and we may be here for a few days. I need you to take it very easy. You lost a lot of blood, and I don't know how much damage the iron did. You know, if that Princess of yours knew how to heal --" "Don't blame her," Trina mumbled absently as her eyes tried to focus. "Why?" Trina finally realized that she had started a conversation she was not sure she wanted to have. "Remember the bet? You have to answer my questions honestly for 24 hours." "But I'm injured?" Trina whispered, tilting up at the end like it was a question. "Your mouth works fine. I'd like to put it through some tests," Farmer said huskily, "but answering questions will have to do. For now." "Do you ever show respect to anyone?" "I thought I just did," came the amused response. "You don't take invitations for great sex delivered via clever innuendos to be respectful?" "You really are full of yourself aren't you? Augh," Trina gasped, an attempt to look over her shoulder causing intense pain. "Don't move." "NOW you tell me." "You're actually doing better than I thought you would. That lycanthrope blood may be helping with healing, though it won't be able to do anything about the iron poisoning. Which gets me back to my question. Why doesn't Vanesse know about healing?" "Because no one's told her. I . . . I was forbidden to tell her anything about the healing arts." "Why? By who?" "By the King, and because he feels that nobility was meant to be served, not to serve those beneath them. Healing drains the user for the sake of someone else, and he thinks that the Princess should consider herself above others." "That's . . . well, absolute bullshit." "And the King has joined an ultra-conservative movement within the elvish people. He has a low opinion of sexual activity to begin with. It is for procreation only, and he actually believes in trying to move back towards arranged marriages, dominated by the husband. Some of the nobles equate our deviation from the old ways as the reason why our population is so low." "Do you think that?" "No. I think that we've lost too much of our habitat to the human race, and that putting more restrictions on reproduction is species suicide. But I can't change the rules. Only Vanesse can, and her uncle is doing what he can to make her either sympathetic or compliant," Trina spat out. "So why didn't YOU tell her the truth?" Farmer asked again. "Because I gave my Word to the King. When Vanesse's parents died --" Trina had to stop and collect herself. Thinking of that night still gave her chills that seeped into the thickest parts of her bones. "I was so scared for her and I couldn't handle it. They hadn't caught the sorcerer who had killed them yet, and Vanesse was too young to take the crown. So Tarrin took the crown, and he decided that he was going to be authoritarian. He said that the Princess was in grave danger, which at the time she was. He said he was going to send her somewhere safe." "He certainly did that." "He told me that the Princess needed a serious battle-dancer and that I was too young to take care of her. I was thirty-five, for the love of . . . Anyway, he said that if I didn't do exactly what he said, that he'd dismiss me as Vanesse's protector." "He can do that?" Trina sighed. She was tired, and she was hurting, but she felt strangely elated. She had needed someone that she could talk to. It was just weird that that person was a woman she had tried to pummel into the ice earlier. "Normally, he could, but not me. He didn't know that, but I was so scared that he would try to find something. He was obsessed with surrounding her with HIS people. She'd just lost her parents, and I couldn't let him try to figure something out that would get rid of me. I was the closest thing to family she had left." "No cousins or anything like that?" "Both her parents were only children. Her grandfather is out there somewhere, but King Tarrin did everything he could to drive a wedge between them. He told Vanesse that her grandfather didn't care about what had happened to her parents and that he was a selfish old man who had turned his back on his people." "Not true?" "Not that I know of. He . . . he has a lot of responsibility, so he wasn't around as much as maybe he could have been when Vanesse was younger. She and I don't talk about him. I think she already felt abandoned, so her uncle's poison didn't help." "Wait, if he was her grandfather, than means he was the king, right? Why did he abdicate?" "He was given the opportunity to represent the elves on the Council. So he handed the crown --" "Vanesse's grandfather is the Shepherd?!" Farmer asked, more loudly than she had intended, causing her patient to wince. "Sorry." "Yes. He tried to contact her in the early years I believe, but King Tarrin was Vanesse's legal overseer by then. He did not have to give Vanesse's grandfather contact, so he didn't. He thought that the Shepherd was too radical and progressive, and would be a bad influence on her." Trina's eyes closed a little, and she started feeling dizzy. "Okay, you get some sleep," Farmer whispered. "We'll talk more later." "I gave my Word --" Trina whispered, her voice fuzzy around the edges. "And you kept it," Farmer told her. "Couldn't tell . . . Vanesse," the elf said, her voice urgent. "Couldn't encourage Vanesse. I gave my Word to the Crown." Then Trina was unconscious again, finding refuge from the pain in an encompassing oblivion. The fire had been going strong for a few minutes, so Farmer extricated herself from the blanket, checked to make sure that Trina's pulse was steady, then got up to stretch before going looking for her quarry. It turned out that Vanesse was not hard to find. She and Jack had found a large number of old bowls, even a plastic barrel, and had cleaned them out and filled them with snow, which was slowly turning to water near the lodge's massive central fireplace. "How is she?" Vanesse asked. "Stable, at least for now. Once everyone is back and things are set up, I'll give her another transfusion. The iron weakened her though. I don't know how it's going to affect her recovery. Why don't you go in and keep her company. I'll send some food into you soon. I need to get on the horn and figure out why the hell someone's trying to kill you." -------- ------------------ Across the pond . . . -------- ------------------ The Shepherd had just gotten out of a meeting with the Lesser Dragon's new representative to the Council when the Alpha caught up with him. And the look on the Alpha's face let the elf know that something had gone wrong. "What is it?" "Things have gotten complicated. I heard back from Farmer and then checked out a few things. Someone is using the chaos surrounding the Princess's disappearance to try and get rid of her. They're a huge bounty being offered for her death." The Shepherd stood, his face pale with worry. "Vanesse, is she --" "She's all right, but her battle-dancer took three iron bullets that were meant for your granddaughter's head. Farmer extracted intel from the would-be assassins, which I confirmed while you were meeting." "Trina's dead?" It was a thought that hit the Shepherd every bit as hard as if it had been his own flesh and blood. Trina had been raised like part of the family since she had been twelve years old. "No, but she's in bad shape. Farmer's an M.D., but she can't do anything about the poisoning. Trina needs a healer, and your granddaughter doesn't know squat about her powers." The Alpha took a deep breath. "Here's what I found out from Farmer." The powerful werewolf explained everything that Farmer had told him, starting from the fight to the assassination attempt to the wounded Trina's conversation with Farmer. The Best Medicine Ch. 02 "It's worse than I thought," the elf statesman said. "How could he so completely deny his own niece her heritage and defy her parents' desires?" "Do you think he's involved in trying to kill her?" "If it was he, then he would have had ample opportunity to do so by now and make it look like an accident. No, however far he has fallen, I cannot accept that it has come to that. But there are many in the ranks of elvish nobility that would like to see Vanesse kept off the throne." The Shepherd started to pace. "We need to get help to Trina somehow. I won't let her die because of this." "We're not getting anyone out there. There's a storm moving in, and it's so bad that even magical transport won't get through. The only one out there with any healing talent is your granddaughter, and she has no clue how to use it." The Alpha stroked his beard. "But we both know someone who might be able to walk her through it." -------- --------------------- Back at the lodge . . . -------- --------------------- Vanesse was sitting on a beaten-up old bench, sipping some hot chocolate that the boys had brought back to their temporary hideaway, and she was trying hard to process everything. Farmer had come and got her after letting her spend time with Trina, then had sat her down and told her what Trina had said. Then a certain degree of shock had set in. "It's . . . I . . . I don't believe it," she said, staring into space. Her world had been rocked so much in the last 48 hours, but to find out that her own uncle had intentionally withheld information just to make her weaker was almost too much to wrap her head around. "Why would he do this?" "Sounds like he wanted to turn you into his kind of noble." "There really isn't a conspiracy against the elves, is there?" "Again, I'm not the biggest follower of magical politics, but I've never heard of anything." Trina's eyes began to water. "I never challenged him," she said, thinking about how many times the King had come and told her that she needed to stay put or just needed to do what he said. "After Mom and Dad died . . . I just let him take over. I was so scared," she whispered. "And Trina . . . I think she wanted me to rebel. She never made it a secret that she didn't like my uncle, but I couldn't get her to explain why." "Now you know. And no one can rebel for you," Farmer told her. "You want to be a leader for your people? You have to stand on your own." As soon as she said it, she kind of regretted it, since those words reminded Vanesse that she had not exactly been the paradigm of toughness over the last fifteen years. "How can I look after my people if I can't even keep my best friend alive?" "Your best friend is also your battle-dancer . . . your bodyguard. She did what she was supposed to do, which was put herself in harm's way for you. You might want to get used to the idea that your best friend may die. I hope it isn't soon, certainly not now, but that's the life she chose." Vanesse sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. "You know she was there the day I was born? She had just turned twenty, the age of adulthood for elves. And one of the first things she did was give her life to me. Not the Crown, not to the King and Queen, but to me. How fair is that? She hadn't had much life on her own, why should she dedicate the rest of it to anyone else?" "She sounds like she's been close to your family. She didn't flip out on me until she thought I'd insulted you AND your mother. Which, by the way, I wasn't trying to do." "Yeah, Mom practically raised her. We always said she was the practice daughter." Farmer laughed. "How'd that happen?" Vanesse sobered even more. "The sorcerer that kill my parents had once belonged to a cabal. From what I heard, their crimes included a lot of things, including selling children of magical races into sex slavery. And they had gotten a hold of Trina when she was ten." Jack, who was standing nearby, stiffened up. "Good God! They --" "They never got to her," Vanesse said quickly. "My mother was actually still an enforcer back then, and she had been hunting this sex trade ring for a while. There was a huge bidding war for a virgin elf girl, and she kept sending in shadow bids to keep it going while she traced the money. Eventually she and the other enforcers busted up the ring and rescued Trina before anyone could . . . you know." Both werehyenas visibly relaxed. "Why wasn't she returned to her parents?" Farmer asked. Vanesse suddenly became flushed with anger. "Her parents had sold her off to pay a debt." Jack turned and walked out, leaving Farmer to explain. "Jack was an abused kid. I think that's why he went the huge muscles route. He takes people hurting kids personally, so he's probably going to go work out his frustration on a tree or something." Vanesse nodded, then actually smiled. "He kind likes Trina anyway. I get that," she added wistfully, then blushed again. "Mom said that Trina was locked up with a couple of other kids. When one enforcer opened the cage, Trina thought that he was one of her captors and tried to gig him in the neck with a sharpened chicken bone. She wouldn't let anyone near the other two kids until they'd convinced her that they were the good guys." Farmer started to laugh. "Now that sounds like the firecracker that kicked half my pack's asses." "Mom thought she was the bravest girl she'd ever seen. She also saw the potential in her for becoming a battle-dancer. Normally, those of 'lower birth' can't even be admitted to the academy, but Mom made it happen. Then when I came along, both my folks knew that she was the one they wanted to guard me. I don't know what I would have done without her after my parents died." "Maybe you can do something for her now," Farmer said, just as her phone began to ring. She looked at the number, apparently perplexed. She lifted the phone to her ear. "Hello? Yes, this is she. Who the hell . . . Oh. Really? Who'd you hear that from?" Farmer paused. "Yeah," she said, glancing at Vanesse. "That is indeed the situation. Uhm, sure. Hold on." She looked at Vanesse. "It's for you. And for official reasons, don't mention your name." She held out the phone. Vanesse just stared. First, she's kidnapped from the middle of nowhere by a woman who did not know who she was. Now she was getting a phone call via satellite phone by someone her kidnapper was not expecting who didn't want to know her name. She took the phone tentatively. "Hello?" "Hello. I . . . well, I'm not sure how to do this," came a very smooth, feminine voice. "I was contacted by a . . . well, an acquaintance of my boss. I was told that you were a necromancer who had not received her full training. Is that correct?" "I guess. I just found out that there's a lot I don't know. Uhm, who are you?" "Oh sorry. Forgot to mention that. My name is Lillian O'Neil, and I'm the necromancer for Lord Stapleton of Atlanta. I'm assuming that this is a sensitive situation, because I was specifically told not to ask you your name. I was just asked to answer any questions you might have about the healing aspects of necromancy. You have a wounded comrade?" "Yes," Vanesse replied, relieved despite not knowing how her situation had been brought to the attention of the House of Stapleton. "She's an elf, and she was shot with iron bullets. There is a medic here who took care of the bleeding and the wounds, but the poisoning --" Vanesse just stopped, hoping that this woman could help. "I'll talk you through what I can. First, what do you know about building a personal energy store?" It turned out, much to Vanesse's chagrin, that she did not know anything about it. Thankfully, Lillian was as patient as could be, discussing the notion of energy as a kind of adrenalin that could be built and unleashed. There were a number of ways to build it, including vigorous exercise, which Lillian recommended doing regardless, and also included mental exercises and meditation. But the more experienced necromancer pointed out, again to Vanesse's chagrin, that sexual activity was the best way for a necromancer to build up his or her stores. Sex was the act of life and, even when preformed recreationally, it gave a necromancer the power to stave off and control death. It had to be done with some passion. Masturbation could actually give a bit of a boost but, as Lillian pointed out, you really needed at least two to tango. Vanesse did not push on the "at least" part of that. Lillian went on to explain the nature of iron poisoning. "Talk to your doctor about the nature of poisons. Then approach it like you would a Major Work, such as curing a major disease or raising the dead. Infuse them with your energy, push it through the system, then pull it out slowly with the toxin and then ground it." "Thank you so much," Vanesse whispered, her brain so full it was almost oppressed. She had just learned more about her abilities in the last hour than she had in the last fifteen years. "You're welcome. If you are able and need to, feel free to call me anytime. I hope things work out with your colleague. And remember the first rule of magic still applies." This one, Vanesse knew the answer to. "Direct the magic, don't let it direct you." She thanked Lillian again, then hung up. Facing Farmer, she asked, "Okay, how the heck did she know about what was going on?" Farmer looked the girl over, studying her. Finally, she apparently decided that she liked what she saw. "The guy we're working for probably got a hold of her boss and requested it." "Who is your boss? He's got to have a hell of a lot of pull to get Lord Stapleton to lend you his necromancer's expertise, no questions asked." "He's the Alpha." "I thought you were the alpha?" "No, not the pack 'alpha' in the generic sense. He's THE Alpha. From the Council." "What?! Why would the Alpha want . . . to . . . that son of a bitch!" Vanesse had run the gambit of emotions that day, so rage seemed to be a fitting addition. "The Alpha is a son of a bitch? Actually, he IS a werewolf, so if his mother --" "Not him. There's no reason the Alpha would want to see me, but he's friends with the Shepherd --" "Your grandfather," Farmer said with a nod. "Trina told me about your relationship." "What relationship? He wasn't around much when I was a kid, then I don't see him at all for five years after my parents died, after which he and the Council did nothing!" "I'm sure they --" "So fifteen years later, he decides that he gives a crud about my life?!" "You're getting really excited. I think you should --" Vanesse was so angry that she was vibrating. "Him and his precious Council!" "Okay, it looks like you're going to pop a vein." "Now he decides that he wants to --" "You're really hot when you're angry." "-- get involved and get us kidnapped and --" Farmer finally got Vanesse to shut up by picking her up, pressing her against the wall, and then kissing her for all she was worth. The elvish Princess was completely unprepared for this invasion of her personal space. She was being held off the ground by powerful arms, and Farmer's firm body was pressed against Vanesse's softer one. She was really angry, then she was really confused, and finally, she was desperate in her need. She had been lied to, talked down to, and abandoned. This she-male was the first person she had met in fifteen years who had been completely honest with her. And part of that had been an honest, forthright lust. Vanesse didn't even know that a human, or lycanthrope, tongue could do those things. It teased her, invaded her, then coaxed her out. She barely noticed when the strong werehyena matriarch grabbed her by the hair on the back of her head, pulling tightly and positioning Vanesse's head exactly where she wanted it to be. And Farmer's other hand had crept down and cupped Vanesse's ass, holding it with a grip of steel. Farmer could smell a kind of excitement that she knew well, and this elvish lady was rich with it. She could almost taste it . . . she wanted to taste it. She pulled away from that luscious mouth. "Do you have any idea how badly I want to fuck you right now?" the matriarch whispered. Vanesse could feel the fully formed bulge in the front of Farmer's jeans. "I've got an idea." "Well, I'm not going to, at least not until you ask me to." Vanesse felt a sting at that. Was this just a power play? She opened her mouth to curse the woman who had gotten her so worked up just to toy with her, and wound up getting kissed again. "Because I've never taken advantage of a man or woman in my life when it comes to sex. I won't start with you," Farmer said after letting the buxom blonde elf up to breathe. "It seems to me that you really need to let loose, and women that look --" she started to say, then ran a hand up Vanesse's body and gripped one full breast, "-- and feel this good don't come along too often. So what do you say?" For fifteen years, Vanesse had tried to suppress these urges. She had only had sex once, and her parents had been hesitant to talk about it. Trina had been encouraging, but then had never spoken of it again after Vanesse's parents died. Had her uncle forced the battle-dancer to give her Word on that? The same man who had made her feel bad about everything that had once made her feel good? "I want it," Vanesse whispered, her voice filled with desire but tinged with fear and anger. "I need it." Farmer pulled the shorter woman into a side room that was being used to store supplies. There was a small fire going, meaning that this would not be uncomfortable for the elf. She proceeded to run her hands up under Vanesse's shirt, fondling those magnificent breasts through the soft bra. Vanesse didn't know which way was up. She wanted this, but did not know what she was supposed to be doing. Farmer gave her a tip by taking one of her hands and stuffing it down the front of the werehyena's pants, feeling the nine-inch cock contained by that rough fabric. Vanesse had never heard of a transexual, or t-girl as Trina had called them, before coming on this trip, but she found the notion fascinating. Farmer was a very beautiful woman, but she was still very masculine . . . aggressive. She was the best of both worlds. The elf's gentle hand on her cock made Farmer want to bark at the moon. This woman was as close to virginal as you could get without actually being a virgin, and her soft but inquisitive touch was maddening. Farmer lifted her lover-to-be's shirt over her head, revealing large breasts and beautiful pale skin. She felt Vanesse withdraw her hand, only to put it to good use in unbuttoning and unzipping those jeans, allowing Farmer's shaft to feel free air. She managed to undo Vanesse's bra with one hand, then looked down with pure adoration. "Sweetcheeks, we need to get you something that shows those puppies off," Farmed stated, then lowered her mouth and sucked on one pink nipple. She pushed one hand down into Vanesse's sweatpants and underneath the woman's underwear, curving a finger into that ripe sex that she could barely wait to ravage. She wanted the woman wet, and had a wide range of techniques that would make it happen. For some reason, getting called "sweetcheeks" again seemed a lot less annoying this time than it had before, but of course anything sounded good when she was getting touched like that. Her nipple was standing at attention, enveloped in wet heat while her folds were being parted by the nimble fingers of a predator. For a woman who had barely masturbated out of a misplaced sense of self-loathing for the last fifteen years, this was like giving water to a woman who had been in the desert for too long. Farmer turned Vanesse around and stood behind her, Farmer's cock nestled in the valley formed by the round mounds of the elf's ass. The werehyena wrapped up her prey with those powerful arms, one slinking south to penetrate that sweet pussy some more while her other hand gripped one large breast, tweaking the nipple with greedy fingers. "This is how I want to take you," Farmer whispered heatedly into the elf's ear. "I'm going to take this big cock," she continued pressing the member in question tighter against Vanesse's ass, "and make you forget anyone who ever said anything that made you feel that you shouldn't enjoy yourself." And that, Vanesse realized, was what she wanted. She also wanted Farmer to keep doing that thing with her finger, which seemed to have found a spot on Vanesse's vaginal wall that was making sparks appear before her eyes. Then a second and even third finger slid up between her folds, filling her up and driving her mad. Vanesse turned off her brain and let the feelings overwhelm her. Letting down her defenses brought on another sensation, one every bit as wondrous as those that Farmer was eliciting. It was like a drop of liquid hitting the bottom of an empty glass, sending a hollow sound reverberating through her soul. With every plunge of Farmer's fingers and every ragged breath that Vanesse took, the feeling of those drips increased. But when Farmer's thumb rubbed directly up against her clit, Vanesse felt way more than a drip. She gasped, her eyes widened in surprise, and her body clenched. The dripping that she had felt in the deepest parts of her psyche slowly turned into a torrent, and it was matched by a wetness that exploded out of her core onto Farmer's hand. "I found myself a squirter," the werehyena said, bringing her wet fingers to her lips and tasting them. "Elf cum tastes pretty good. Here, try it," she said, sliding those same fingers into Vanesse's mouth. The thought of tasting anyone's cum much less her own had never occurred to the elf princess, but she sucked willingly on Farmer's fingers. She was a mix of contradictions, feeling drained in the body but full in spirit. She could barely keep her feet, which worked fine for Farmer. She wanted Vanesse down on her hands and knees anyway. With just the slightest bit of pressure to the back of the woman's knees, that was the position she put the elvish princess into. "Hold on to your hats folks," Farmer growled, "because this is gonna be a bumpy ride." She grabbed the back of Vanesse's hair again and then pushed her way into that incredibly tight and incredibly wet pussy. "Oh sweet Jesus, that's the good stuff," she muttered as her dark staff was enveloped and devoured by that perfect sex. "Big!" was the first word out of Vanesse's mouth, followed by, "Too big!" "Just give it a minute," Farmer replied, pushing all the way in and then just letting the woman's natural tightness do its thing. It wasn't long before Vanesse began instinctively pushing back against her, indicating a willingness and desire to continue. "Not all your future lovers are going to be quite so big, so don't go worrying that I'll ruin you," Farmer chuckled. Vanesse was not thinking very much at all. Farmer was beginning to get a rhythm going, and that rhythm was in the vein of a heavy metal drummer on too many Red Bulls. She found herself grunting and groaning as she was filled in more ways than she had known possible. Her first time had been nothing like this. It was not that the boy she had been with had been a bad person; they had remained friends afterward. It was just that neither of them were experienced. Experience was not a problem for Farmer, nor was she lacking in enthusiasm. She kept a firm grip on Vanesse's hair, using it as leverage as she pounded the Princess like nature intended. Okay, maybe nature had never quite imagined an elf being taken at all by a t-girl werehyena, but that just showed the beauty of the position. It worked for all occasions. "That's it," Farmer cooed, or as close as a dangerous predator could come to cooing. "Show me what an elvish Princess can do." The Best Medicine Ch. 02 "Would (grunt) you (grunt) just (moan) shut up and (grunt) fuck me?" Farmer grinned. "That's what I wanted to hear. A leader should always be ready to ask for what she wants." She reached her free hand around and started rubbing Vanesse's clit again. Without even thinking about it, Vanesse bit into her own arm to prevent herself from screaming. It felt so incredibly good. The dripping she had felt earlier that had turned into a flood when she had experienced orgasm now felt like a steady, pulsing stream. She honestly thought she could feel everything around her, from the dust particles to light from the fire . . . not just the head, but the light . . . to the veins on that powerful member that was mercilessly and delightfully rampaging through her loins like the proverbial bull in the china shop. Her back arched and her skin shivered, all in testament to her second climax which seemed to go on forever, yet ended far too soon. She was sweating like she could never imagine, and her skin was more sensitive than she ever remembered it being. Her pussy was tender, but that did not mean that Farmer was going to give her any rest. Quite the contrary, the werehyena picked it up a notch. Farmer lay her torso down on Vanesse's back and wrapped an arm around the woman's waist, humping with her hips and kissing Vanesse's neck. She could not believe how wonderful this elf's body felt, wrapped around her and against her. She was taking everything that Farmer gave her, and her body seemed to want more. Finally, the werehyena matriarch could not take any more, sinking in deep and filling that sweet woman with her seed. Vanesse's greedy pussy milked her for every drop, not pausing until Farmer collapsed on top of her and they both slipped to the floor, utterly sated. For a minute, Farmer just listened to the Princess's breathing go from labored to slow and steady as her body recovered from its workout. "How are you feeling?" she asked at last. She had no idea what to expect from a woman who had been so reserved but who had given herself completely to the act. Then Vanesse rolled over, her eyes so perfectly clear and beautifully rose-colored that it actually made Farmer pause to drink them in. "I feel . . . complete?" Vanesse did not know how to explain it. It was like she had reached thirty years of age, and just figured out how her arms worked. Her skin still tingled, and her mind felt like it had just had the equivalent of a savory meal after years of being famished. "Anytime that you feel like being completed again, you know who to call," her companion chuckled, nuzzling Vanesse's neck again. The girl's eyes opened wide. "Trina!" she said, feeling a rush of pure guilt over having sex a room away from where her best friend might very well be dying. "Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind --" Farmer said, trying to keep her tone jovial despite a quick, confusing spike of something she could not identify. Jealousy? Vanesse was getting back into her clothes like a woman with a purpose. She did not bother with shoes, emerging into the hallway and heading next door to find Jack sitting next to Trina, talking to her though she obviously was not awake. "What's going --" Jack said, then sniffed the air. He smiled. "So Farmer couldn't resist the charms of a beautiful woman after all." The Princess blushed, but her pride and dignity were not important at the moment. What mattered was Trina. "How is she?" "Steady," Jack said, looking on curiously as Vanesse pushed the blanket down to expose the infected area. The dark veins had spread a little more, but not much. "What are you planning on doing?" Vanesse did not answer. She looked at the wound, hating herself just a bit for having been the cause of it. Job be damned, this beautiful warrior was her friend. Now to remember what Lillian had said. "Poison comes in a number of nasty packages," a mostly dressed Farmer said from the door. "This stuff seems to be acting more like a cancer, spreading out like a living thing." "I need to pull it out," Vanesse said. She needed to approach it like a Major Work. She closed her eyes and visualized it, a poison flowing through her veins, clogging the blood flow. If it spread far enough, limbs would go gangrenous and need to be removed. Vanesse would never allow that to happen. 'It's a liquid,' Vanesse said, equating that state with the poison. 'I need to draw it out like water through a straw.' She looked down at the ugly wounds against the pale, formerly perfect skin. Without thinking too much about it, she put her lips to the wound and let the energy that she had built up flow into her friend. 'Fuck, does sex always provide this much, or was it just because it was with an alpha lycanthrope?' she wondered as the energy poured in. She had to remember to keep tabs on it, for she had to withdraw as much energy as she put it. The only time a necromancer left energy behind was to control a corpse, and Trina did not, and would not, qualify. Trina opened her eyes to find that the Princess's lips were attached to her naked shoulder. She was too weak to do much except gasp in confusion. "Shh," Jack said, kneeling next to the battle-dancer. "The Princess is trying to save your life." 'How --' Trina thought, then her mind became jumbled. She saw, for just a moment, where the energy had come from. She closed her eyes, and her heart clenched. Vanesse was oblivious to everything but the act of healing. After letting the healing energy seep all the way through the infected area, she slowly began to pull it back in, sucking on the wound and pulling the poison back in with the energy. Her mouth tasted like ash and brimstone, and she quickly raised her head and spit towards the wall. Slivers of iron came shooting out, embedding themselves in the worn wooden walls like darts. "That's freaky," Farmer said, pulling one of the deadly little spikes out. Vanesse looked down at the wound and saw that it had closed over. There were still three indentions where the bullets had hit, but the were just small divots compared to the nasty holes that they'd been earlier. "I did it," Vanesse said, both bewildered and proud of what she had done. Then she looked at Trina, whose closed eyes could not contain the few tears that leaked through. "It's okay," she said, caressing her friend's face while Farmer knelt down to check the battle-dancer's vitals. "Trina, look at me." Trina opened her eyes, unable to explain the hurt she still felt. Yes, she would live, but things had changed. Vanesse glanced at Jack. "Do you have a video-capture device?" He looked perplexed. "Well, my cell phone captures video. Why?" "I need a permanent record of this." She watched as the muscular man pulled his cell phone out, then she sat next to Trina and looked down, her face suddenly all business. "Farmer, alpha of the Joker's Wild pack, will you act as a witness?" Farmer had no idea what was going on, but she nodded and said, "Sure." Jack turned and pointed his little phone at her to capture the response. Vanesse touched her friend's face. "Lady Trina Cresole, battle-dancer of Princess Vanesse Bellethial, you have in the past given many a Word to the crown, and you have abided by them." Trina's heart began to pound and her head felt light. If Farmer had told the Princess everything and if Vanesse was about to do what Trina thought she was going to do, then there might be light at the end of the tunnel yet. The Princess continued. "As Princess of the Elvish Crown and future queen, I hereby release you from any accords that you entered into by the giving of your Word to the Crown, rendering those contracts as completed. This release was given of my own free will and open heart, and was properly witnessed." Trina, despite all her famed stoicism and training, broke down crying. "I'm so sorry," she whispered as Vanesse wrapped her arms around the slender warrior's shaking body and just held her. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Farmer told me everything. Since you could not tell me anything directly, I figured --" Princess Vanesse was promptly left in complete surprise for the second time that day. The first was when she had eagerly participated in a heated sexual encounter with a werehyena. The second was when her best friend, battle-dancer, and first healing patient pulled away, put her hands on both sides of Vanesse's head, and kissed her. ------------ -------------------- To be continued . . . The Best Medicine Ch. 03 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these characters and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex. While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game. --------- ------------------ Princess Vanesse Bellethial really had no idea what to do. Her life had gone from mind-numbingly dull to "what the hell was that?" in the course of a few days. She and her bodyguard had been planning on running away from her Alaskan compound to try and unravel the secrets of the world, but Vanesse had realized that Trina had secrets of her own. The King had secrets. Everyone had them. And Vanesse was finding the learning curve to be a bitch. She was a necromancer who had no notion of the healing arts until after she had been kidnapped by a beautiful werehyena she-male and her motorcycle gang. The pack leader, a woman named Farmer, had absolutely turned the elf Princess's world on its ear, playing it straight with her and opening her eyes to a great many truths. Then her bodyguard had gotten into a knock-down drag-out fight with the werehyena leader, during which goblin assassins, gunning for Vanesse, had almost killed her best friend instead. Since then, she had talked to a real necromancer and discovered how her powers were supposed to work, only to find that it was sex that fueled their day to day usage. Farmer was more than happy to step in and provide the bone-weakening, mind-numbing sex that gave Vanesse the energy to save her injured friend. Vanesse had then broken the hold that her uncle, the King, had put on Trina to prevent her from telling the truth. Then, Trina had kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek, not even a grazing kiss of gratitude, but rather a share-your-soul, all-encompassing lip-to-lip extravaganza. Then Trina had passed out, and Vanesse had been left with far more questions than answers. Since then, she and Trina had barely spoken. Upon waking, Trina had muttered a half-hearted apology and said that she had simply been overwhelmed. Wanting to press the issue but not knowing how, Vanesse had let it drop. Now she and the battle-dancer sat on opposite sides of a long bench, not speaking. "Well, this is a bundle of laughs," Farmer said, staring at one and then the other of her elf captives. "What are you going to do for an encore? Nap?" Vanesse blushed, and Trina just glared. "I truly missed your rapier-like wit," the battle-dancer said. "It's what makes life worth living." Farmer grinned. "When I say that, no one believes me." "Go figure." Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Vanesse could not help but smile a little. This was the Trina she was familiar with. "Well, we need to figure out what the next move is. Things have gotten complicated," Farmer added. Trina let out an indelicate snort. "What clued you in?" "You're kinda lippy for someone who's ass just recently got saved by me." "Saved? I was busy smacking you around when someone shot me." "Smacking me . . . Oh, now you've gone and --" "Oh would you two put a sock in it?" Vanesse interjected, though her smile was getting wider. "What's next? Pistols at twenty paces?" "Do you have any idea how hard it is to hit someone with a flintlock at forty paces?" Farmer said with exasperation. "Jack and I missed each other three times out of four, and we're both pretty good shots." "Three out of four? You shot each other?" Farmed nodded. "We were bored." "How many times did you shoot each other?" Vanesse asked. Farmer looked at Jack. "What was it?" "You got me three times, I got you twice." Vanesse's jaw had dropped. "You just stood there and shot each other? Multiple times?" Jack pointed his thumb at Farmer. "She was bored, and we heal quickly." Trina had taken Vanesse's entrance into the conversation as an excuse to wander off unnoticed. All this talk of being shot was making her uncomfortable. "Hey, wait up," came a voice from behind her. She sighed. So much for "unnoticed." Trina rolled her eyes as Jack trotted up next to her. "What?" she asked, already snippy. "Hey, don't be like that," Jack said jovially. "Hey, I realize that you're still a bit under the weather --" "The ground is 'under the weather.' I feel like hell." "-- and all," Jack continued unabated, "but I was wondering if you might want to show me some moves?" Jack took a martial arts stance to emphasize his point. "I'll show you one move," Trina said calmly. "This is called 'Feminus Exodus.' You'll like it." She proceeded to walk away. She stopped after fifteen feet and glanced out of the corner of her eye. Sure enough, Jack was standing right there. "While I love watching your ass while you walk, I was sort of hoping you would show me some martial arts. I try and incorporate styles whenever I can, and being able to learn something from a battle-dancer would be sweet." "Didn't I explain this to you already? It's not that simple. I could make you a color graph to explain it if you like," Trina said, wondering what it was going to take to shake this guy. "I get that battle-dancing itself is way too big, but you still have basics. How you hit, how you kick, combos . . . stuff like that. The way you flow --" "Right now, I flow like sewage," she said, trying to get back into her stoic face. "I'm a captive here, remember? I'm not your mommy and I'm not your sensei. I have no reason, incentive, or inclination to do anything but deride you constantly." Jack stared at her for a second. "Anyway, I noticed that you used these cool double-knee strikes a lot when you were fighting Farmer, so I figured those would be a good --" Trina put a finger across Jack's lips and said, "Shush!" She waited, relishing the brief silence. As soon as she moved her finger however -- "-- would be a good place to start. I'm --" Jack stopped when Trina covered his mouth with her hand again. "Be . . . quiet," she said sternly. She waited three seconds, lifted her hand, and then -- "-- pretty good with my legs, but I'm always worried about --" Trina covered Jack's mouth with one hand and grasped the back of his neck with the other, her eyes glancing around for a roll of duct tape. "Hey, would you stop harassing my second in command?" Farmer asked, wandering over. Even Vanesse came over, looking on with some amusement. "That's the pot calling the new-fallen snow black," Trina replied. "Seriously, don't you ever pay attention to him? Play with him? Take him for walks, maybe? Because he's hyper and he's annoying the snot out of me." "Jack, I need to talk with Trina for a bit," she said, her tone indicating that she was talking to a small child. "Go make sure that we've got enough food for tonight. If not, arrange a hunt." "It's a blizzard outside," Jack almost whined. "Can't Alani do it?" When Farmer cocked an eyebrow at him, he walked down the hall, muttering about the injustice of it all. "Okay, that should distract him for a few minutes," Farmer said good naturedly "But when he comes back, you might just want to humor him. Or show him something shiny. He's taken quite a liking to you." "He needs a new hobby. You wanted to talk?" "C'mon," she said. "Need to get your tactical appraisal on something." Trina breathed a sigh of relief. That was something she could handle. "My guess is the Baron Glennon Montain for being behind the attack. He's so conservative that he makes the King look progressive, and he was about as big an opponent of Vanesse's parents as you can be." "Wasn't he a possible candidate for groom?" "In his own mind. Vanesse wouldn't touch him with a thirteen foot pole." "Don't you mean a ten foot pole?" "I've been out of it for a while. I was adjusting for inflation." Farmer could not help but give another shit-eating grin. The girl could think on her feet. She wondered how she would do on her back. "Right. Question, do you believe me when I say that I never had any intention of harming you or the Princess?" "Of course," Trina said absently. Farmer cocked her head. "Really? You weren't even a little threatened by me?" "I was concerned," the elf replied. "Remember the garage?" "Yeah." "You used tranquilizers on everyone. Not just the Princess, but everyone. You didn't even have real guns in hand, though I know you were carrying. That says you're under order to avoid injuring anyone, and you didn't kill the witnesses. If the goal was just to get Vanesse and get out for nefarious purposes, you wouldn't have taken such care with the others." "Not bad," Farmer said approvingly. "I think you and I know the score. Vanesse's grandfather wants to talk to her, she doesn't want to talk to him, someone's put a bounty on that pretty head of hers, and we have no idea whom we can trust. That sum it up?" "Yep." Farmer looked serious for a moment, or at least as serious as she could look. "Okay, I want to release you from your Word to me." Trina's bottom jaw hit her chest with a thud. "Huh?" "I need to make sure that she gets where she's going alive regardless of where that is. If we get embroiled in a fight and the best way to ensure her survival is for the two of you to run like hell, then that's what you do. I don't want your Word holding you back." "Uhm . . . thanks?" "Not that I expect you to go running off into the Canadian wilderness in the middle of a snowstorm. Can I expect that you'll continue to cooperate? You coming with us to Atlanta willingly could make our lives so much easier." "I guess I need to talk to Vanesse about that. She's the one in charge." "You're probably right," Farmer said, putting a hand on Trina's shoulder before they walked back towards the common area. "And you do need to talk to her." "I just said --" "Not about the plan. About what happened." Trina felt flush under her skin, but she fought to control her expression. "I already explained that." "No, you covered your ass. So tell me, just how in love with her are you?" If Trina could shoot daggers with her eyes as Jack believed, Farmer would have been pinned to a wall. And like with Vanesse, the werehyena could tell that the lack of response was all the answer she needed. Farmer sighed. "Babe, let's put it all on the table. Your friend is smokin' hot, and I had fun with her. I've never seen anyone need what I can give her like she does. If she's at all interested in more of this --" "Do you remember that you released me from my Word?" Trina whispered, her voice full of razors and fire. "I can hurt you now if I want to." "You can try," Farmer replied coolly. "Fact is, I like her. I enjoyed making her feel alive, and she enjoyed feeling it. And the first damn thing she did afterward was go and save YOUR life. Seriously, you were hoping she would discover the truth about her necromancy and healing powers, and . . . what? She would be a nun for the rest of her life, and you could go on secretly pining for her?" Trina grabbed the werehyena by the neck and shoved her against a wall. "You don't know a damn thing about how I feel," she snarled. "And I'll bet that neither does she," Farmer said, her voice as calm as Trina usually kept hers. She had been baiting the battle-dancer. "Don't be mad at me for being attracted to her. She's beautiful, she's feisty, she's smart, and that's more than most people can hope to find in a partner, whether for life or the night or just a few minutes in an old supply closet. Hell, she's going to need --" "I know damn well what she's going to need," Trina said, letting go and walking away, more than a bit despondent. 'And I know what she won't need,' she thought. "So are we gonna have a problem?" Farmer asked. Trina gritted her teeth before answering with, "If neither force nor deceit is used, then I have no control over what the Princess does with her time, or whom she does it with." "That doesn't really answer my question." "Tough, because it's all the answer you're getting." Vanesse saw Trina return from wherever she had gone, and it did not take a super genius to realize that she was not happy. And the look on Farmer's face made the Princess wonder what was going on. "What were you two talking about?" Vanesse asked as her best friend sat down next to her. "Jack was attempting to hump my leg, so I got her to swat him with a newspaper. Oh, and she released me from my Word, so we're free to go. Or at least, I can make as much trouble as I want." Vanesse was floored. "What? She did? Why?" Trina gave her a run down of Farmer's reasoning, glad for something to talk about besides . . . well, besides what she was avoiding talking about. "But I think we should stay with them. Strangely, our kidnappers seem to have less interest in hurting us than everyone else. How often does that happen?" "I don't know," Vanesse replied. "This is my first time being kidnapped. Hopefully, it won't always be this dangerous." "Why don't we just avoid it in the future?" Trina asked with complete seriousness. "Once you get a royal secretary, we'll make sure he or she doesn't book any abductions." "I thought you were my secretary?" "You know I can't type." Vanesse grinned a little. This was what conversations with Trina were supposed to be like. She leaned over and nudged her friend with her shoulder. Trina responded by leaning in and knocking Vanesse off of the bench. "Hey! Aren't you supposed to protect me from stuff like this?" "You could stand to have a little toughening." Vanesse sat up. "Actually, you're right. Maybe we should pick up my self-defense lessons again." "Princess, it is my job to keep you safe. I don't want you getting into any fights." "I'm not talking about picking fights. But I'm not always going to have a choice." Trina nodded. "I guess. You fight like a sissy girl." "Hey!" came the reply. "I'm just saying that I would be more worried about a fluffy kitten gouging my eyes out." She resisted a smile as Vanesse petulantly shoved at her. She took her friend aside and began to go over the basics. Despite her earlier comments, Vanesse was relatively well versed for nobility in the martial arts. Trina had made sure that the Princess was not as defenseless as she appeared. She reinforced the basics, namely eye gouging, punching to the throat, stepping on feet, and -- "Why don't you teach her the good stuff?" Jack said from out of nowhere. "Do you not have anything else to do?" Trina said, turning around to fine the muscular man sitting nearby. "And how do you keep finding me?" "Small building. And by smell. You smell really nice. Kind of --" "Shut up! Good grief," Trina muttered. "Listen, would it really hurt for you to show him a few moves? It's not like the battle-dancers are sworn to secrecy or anything," Vanesse said, suppressing a grin when Trina glared at her. "See? Even the hottie Princess wants you to show me stuff." "Thanks," Vanesse said. "I think." Trina gritted her teeth. "If I show you some stuff, will you promise to leave me alone?" "For how long?" Jack replied. "Forever." "No way! You're way too interesting." "How about a year?" "Nope." "A month?" "You know that we're only going to be near each other for a week or so." "Then a week?" Jack just gave Trina "the look." "A day? Twelve hours?" "Four hours." "Four?! You've got to be --" "Four . . . hours," Jack said firmly. "I hate you. So very, very much." Jack just grinned and took off his shirt. The extensive tattooing on his arms apparently extended across his broad, smooth, muscular chest, ending in a tight circle around his neck. It also looked like it went down into his pants -- Trina shook her head for a second, partially in irritation but partially in disgust with herself. Jack was damn attractive, but he was also annoying. And distracting. "Okay," she said, letting her irritation show in her voice, "the first principle of my fighting style is flow. Even without the music, the idea is to know what moves most easily flow from the last one. For a battle-dancer, there is no stopping and resetting." "See, now this is what I'm talkin' 'bout!" Jack said, his eyes alight. He began to bounce slightly on his toes. "And stop the bouncing. It wastes energy, and looks really goofy." Trina watched as Jack immediately stopped the bouncing, but remained loose and on his toes. 'Well, at least he's serious about listening to me,' she thought with grudging respect. "So show me what you got, and I'll help you link it." For almost two hours, Trina worked with the werehyena, and she picked up a couple of more stragglers as she went. Apparently, Jack was not the only werehyena who was interested in improving his fighting style. A dozen of Jack's brethren were following along, each contributing moves of their own to the martial mix. Much to her chagrin, Trina realized that she was learning stuff too. She had never been a teacher before, except for her work with Vanesse, and she found it all rather rewarding. "Can I have my troops back?" Farmer said, making an appearance. She was smiling though. Trina looked pretty happy. The werehyena looked over and saw Vanesse watching as well, and she had a quirky smile on her face. "Please," Trina said, wiping sweat from her brow, "take them away. And remember, I get four hours of peace," she said, her gaze scanning the small crowd and settling on Jack. He just smirked in reply, zipped his lips, and walked out of the room. "Okay, let's get some dinner cooked and set up watch," Farmer said. "Looks like we'll be here a couple of days, so bring all the vehicles in that we can find space for. Garage looks pretty much empty, so it shouldn't be a problem." "Hey," one burly man said, "you know if we've got some spare time --" "-- and seeing as we've been really good boys and girls --" started another. "Okay, okay!" Farmer laughed. "Tomorrow, we'll have a tournament." "What kind of tournament?" Vanesse asked. "You'll just have to wait and see," the werehyena smirked. "Now if you'll excuse me," she added with an extravagant bow, I have a few arrangements to make before we settle in for the night." She gave Vanesse a wink, then slipped through a door. Vanesse was blushing. 'Does she really think that I'm going to --' Her mind paused, then Vanesse glanced around for Trina, who was toweling off some sweat from her brow, her tones arms, her ripped abdomen --. 'What the hell was that about?' she thought, shaking her head. Trina noticed that she was being watched. Vanesse had a little half-smile playing across her face and briefly chewed on her bottom lip. 'She doesn't even know how amazing she looks,' the battle-dancer thought. "Trina, could I talk to you for a minute?" The battle-dancer's skin chilled a few degrees. 'Please don't ask about the kiss,' she thought. 'Please.' "Sure. Uhm, would it be okay if I got cleaned up a little first?" "I'll go with you. We can talk while you change." "I'm just going to wash up a bit. You really don't need --" The Best Medicine Ch. 03 Vanesse flushed with anger, something she did not like feeling when it related to Trina. "Why are you avoiding me, or at least avoiding talking to me?" "I'm not. I talked with you earlier." "As long as we were talking about something safe. Trina, a lot has happened and you're the only one I can talk to." "I'm sure Farmer would love to talk to you," Trina muttered bitterly before she could catch herself. Vanesse's skin was now almost totally red. "So that's it, isn't it? You and Lillian told me that so much of my power is based on sex, and now . . . now you can barely look at me. Like I'm something foul and --" "No!" Trina said. She had to stop her own mindset. Vanesse should not be thinking like this, and it was Trina's fault. Her own personal issues were screwing up her best friend's first real chance at being complete. "It's not that at all. You should never think you're anything less than amazing." Vanesse sniffed. "But --" Trina held up her hand to shush her friend, sighed, then sat down with her back against the wall. "Sex is something you need to have. You need to enjoy it, and you should never feel bad about it. Heck, when your folks realized that you were a necromancer, they had already started developing lists of potential concubines. Of course, they figured that you would marry for love, but a necromancer monarch needs more than one . . . well, source of satisfaction." "Really? How . . . uhm, how many?" Vanesse said, blushing again, but for entirely different reasons. Trina managed a small but real smile. "The last elvish monarch who was a necromancer had about a dozen lovers on the side. Well, regular lovers anyway. And he had scores of casual flings every year. And the more powerful and passionate the sex and lover, the better. King Johan, the monarch I was talking about, could heal entire outbreaks of disease without a Major Work, just by the power he carried in himself." "Really? I . . . I can't believe my uncle would want me NOT to do that. To be able to do so much good but to stand by and do nothing is . . . Why didn't Mom and Dad tell me? Right after that first time I had sex, they couldn't seem to get out of talking to me about it fast enough. I thought they were ashamed of me." The battle-dancer actually laughed. "Ashamed? Your parents worshiped the ground you toddled on. They didn't want to talk about sex with you at that time because it meant that you were growing up. They were parents, Vanesse. Parents are never ready for their children to grow up like that. Then --" Trina paused, her voice unwilling to say what her mind was thinking. Vanesse nodded, an indication that it was okay to stop that line of thought. They both knew what had happened next. Vanesse's parents had died, and they would never see their daughter become an adult. The battle-dancer found her voice again. "I don't know how to handle all of this," she admitted. "I wasn't the one who was supposed to be talking you through all of this. I'm your bodyguard, and giving the 'birds and the bees' talk wasn't exactly on my curriculum back during training. Then suddenly I'm on my back and I didn't think that I was going to be able to protect you anymore, and suddenly you're doing it with her --" Trina said, waving at the door Farmer had gone through. "I needed that energy! For you!" "It's not your job to save me," Trina said, tired and frustrated. "It's my job to save you. You shouldn't be jumping into bed with the first person you see--" "What?!" Vanesse said. "You think it was that easy? I finally find out that I'm supposed to have these powers, the person who should have told be about it years ago is dying, and you're mad about who I picked? She may be an uncouth barbarian, but at least Farmer has been honest with me." Trina felt her blood pressure rising. She knew that she should not be having this argument. But something in her had clicked, and she knew that the point of no return was about three feet behind her. "I couldn't be honest with you and you know it." "Yeah, you and your Word. You seemed to find a way around it quickly enough when it suited you," Vanesse snapped. Trina's eyes were wild and wide open. "If you had shown any guts in the last ten years, I would have been able to do it sooner." Vanesse felt like she had just been punched hard in the stomach. She could not do anything but stand there and listen to her battle-dancer continue. "Just once," Trina was saying. "All I needed was for you to stand up to your uncle one damn time. All I needed was for you to put one person around us who wasn't a toadie of the King, but you didn't. For all your brains and beauty, you never once stood up to him." "I was scared," Vanesse whispered. "My parents had just been killed, or did you forget about that part?" "Don't you dare," Trina said angrily. "Don't you dare make it sound like it was easy for me. They took me in when my own parents sold me into slavery. When you were born, they asked me to look after the thing most precious to them, and I did it. I saw you grow up, and every day you were turning into a girl they were so proud of. And even when you were under your uncle's watch, I still saw glimpses of that girl. So I watched and waited, hoping you'd break out and be the woman I knew you could be." "Isn't that what I'm doing now?" Trina's shoulders fell, and her anger fueled adrenaline seeped out of her body. "Yeah, it is. And you've been brave and smart, and you had every right to be outraged that I lied to you. But I need you to make smart choices --" "How is it not a smart choice to do anything I can to save the one person who's always been there for me and is willing to put her life on the line for me? When my parents died, you were all I had. I can't lose you," Vanesse said, rubbing the tears from her eyes. "That's the life I chose," Trina replied, a touch of bitterness edging her words. "Well it's stupid!" Vanesse shouted, finding her spine. "Why should your entire life be taken away and sacrificed for mine? Your childhood was sold away, and since then all you've done is dedicate your life to my family." She hung her head. "And you lost fifteen years because I was afraid of the world." Vanesse looked up again, though her face was still fallen. "Yeah, I was scared. I never even believed half of what Uncle Tarrin told me, but I wanted to. It meant I could hide from everything, and it just got easier. But no matter how down I got, you never let me forget who I was and who my parents were. I had to save you. And no matter how much it may bother you, I'd do it again in a minute." "Vanesse, sex is where your power comes from, but it's also when you're most vulnerable. You can't afford to be doing it out of fear. You might let someone close that you shouldn't." "Trina, I'd have sex with just about anyone to save you," Vanesse said. "Even that slimy weasel Lord Morbis. And you know how I feel about him." Trina snickered in spite of herself. "No one is worth that." She sighed. "But I must say that Farmer is a step up from that. Okay, more than a step. Did she . . . I mean, was she good to you?" Vanesse sank to the bench. This was what she had wanted to talk to Trina about. Well, that and "the kiss," but she was not sure how she felt about that, much less how her friend would react. "She was." "She made sure you were satisfied?" The Princess blushed. "Twice." "It's not just about orgasms," Trina said, smiling a bit for the first time since the argument began. "Was the sex itself fun? Did she make sure that you got to do things that you wanted?" "I didn't really know what I wanted. She gave me chances to back out, but mostly she just kind of took charge. And . . . and I kind liked that." Vanesse looked mortified when she made that admission. "It's okay. Lots of people prefer it when their partners are aggressive. Your first time wasn't like that. Do you think that's why you didn't enjoy it as much? You know, back then?" Finally, the ice broke and Vanesse told the whole story. She also admitted that she had been really excited watching Alani and Farmer together the previous evening. All the urges that her uncle had told her that she needed to suppress did not seem so dirty. Now, they seemed rather enticing. "Make your needs known, even if you like to let your partner or partners be in charge." Vanesse scrunched her eyes. "Partners? As in 'at the same time' or over a period of time?" "Both. Multiple partners opens things up for some rather . . . well, entertaining variations." "Did you . . . ever . . . I mean, --" "Yeah, I did. Hey, the male to female ratio at the battle-dancer academy was two to one." "Really?" Vanesse felt a little palpitation in her chest when she thought of her athletic friend caught between two men in the throes of ecstasy. Or maybe not always between two men. Trina was sitting quietly, trying to figure out how to frame her thoughts. "Vanesse, I'm sorry. I didn't have any right to say those things --" "Yes, you did. You may have said it with more anger than you intended, but you're right. Lots of people lose their parents, but not all of them hide in a cave. I'm going to be Queen someday. What kind of monarch would hide whenever things didn't go their way?" "Your uncle would be so pissed if he heard you say that," Trina said. "My uncle can kiss my lily-white behind." "He'll have to stand in line. Apparently, your behind is quite popular in Joker's Wild." "Hey, only one of them has come near my behind," Vanesse said, putting her hands in her face. "So far," Trina replied. She stood up. It killed her to say it, but she forced each word from her mouth with practiced patience. "You've got a veritable feast of possibilities, and I understand that it's common in the gang to 'share the spoils,' so to speak. If you really want to figure out what interests you --" She stopped and turned away. 'I just know what that can't be,' she thought as she left. Trina had not gotten far when a voice from the shadows stopped her. "Why didn't you tell her?" Farmer asked. "Tell her what?" Trina did not blanch beneath the stare that she received. She did not want to talk about this. "Don't be coy. Why didn't you tell her the real reason you kissed her? And don't say it was just relief." "I'm not going to say anything at all," Trina whispered. "I just told her that I thought she was a coward. I think I've said enough." --------- ---------------------- In Denver, Colorado . . . --------- ---------------------- Christopher Knight waited in a familiar, comfortable silence as his alpha hung up the phone and then placed his elbows on the glass desktop and sunk his face into his hands. He voice came out as a low, steady rumble. "That was one of our friends up north of the border," Abraham Holmes said. "No one has officially been able to identify the weres that kidnapped Princess Bellethial, but our man has some unusual intel." "Sir?" "Apparently, a source claimed to have seen a large motorcycle gang in the company of a large black SUV traveling west out of Alaska into Canada not too long after the event was supposed to have taken place." "A motorcycle gang? Driving in Canada in the winter?" Abraham stroked his goatee. "A were motorcycle gang isn't that uncommon, but whoever this is has little if any respect for territorial boundaries, is bold, and apparently unconcerned about their personal welfare." "Joker's Wild?" "That would be my guess as well," the lead werewolf said, standing up and cracking his neck on one side and then the other. "Which means the extraction bounty will be somewhat tricky." "So we're going for the kill then?" Abraham nodded. "And see if we can dig up any bounties on Joker's Wild." "You're not planning on trying to take them all out, are you?" Christopher asked, arching one eyebrow. If the kidnappers were in fact the werehyena pack in question, trying to kill them all would start a fight which would be costly in a number of ways. "No, but we might be able to take advantage of collateral damage." He looked at a map on the wall of his mercenary company's Denver headquarters. "Unfortunately, finding and corralling them won't be easy. Get Natasha to work on scrying their location. Christopher shuddered. "You really think she'll be able to help? She hasn't exactly been stable recently." "She always comes through," Abraham replied. "She may be unorthodox, but she's good." "Yes sir." The alpha wolf looked over at his lieutenant. "Something on your mind?" "Natasha is incredibly powerful, incredibly gifted, but --" "But what?" "Every time she's nearby, I feel like something bad is going to happen. Like the real threat is behind me, not in front of me." "I didn't think you were the superstitious type." Christopher looked towards the long hallway that led towards Natasha's lair. "You of all people should know that sometimes, the monsters are real." ------- ---------------- In Europe . . . ------- ---------------- "Once I get to the bottom of this kidnapping, someone is going to pay most dearly. No matter how high and mighty he thinks he is," the King snarled. "I'm sure that justice will be served in the end," the Shepherd replied, his voice every bit as cold as that of his son. "I find it more than curious that the minute she was no longer under your . . . protection, someone put a bounty out on her head." King Tarrin Ralisen's back stiffened. "It just means that what I've been saying all along is true. The world is far too vile and savage for her. She needs to be hidden away somewhere safe with a strong husband to protect --" "She should be strong enough to protect herself. She was surrounded by 'strong men' if the rumors are correct, and they were unable to do anything. Maybe if you had not always been so opposed to her receiving her own defense training --" "She has a battle-dancer for that, for all the good it did her. Her guardian was another woman, and the Princess was failed by --" The Shepherd narrowed his eyes. "By your own reports, Trina was vastly outnumbered and still did considerable damage. And your refusal to let the Council get involved makes me wonder how serious you are about her safety." "I would never allow my niece to come to harm," Tarrin spat. "It is my duty to protect her until she is ready to be Queen." "There are many types of protection, and many ways to do harm," the Shepherd muttered as his son stormed out of the room. A few moments later, the Alpha slipped through a secret passage and sat down next to his fellow Council member. "I don't think he has anything to do with the death bounty," the Shepherd said after sipping his wine. "Well, I guess that's something. No word on who it is though yet?" "Not officially." The elder elvish statesman sighed. "But my son was right about one thing. Vanesse was not in danger until --" "The option is to kill her slowly? Letting her mind and soul rot away over the next few centuries while she's spoon-fed reality by a socially regressive misogynist like your son?" "When did you start using words like 'misogynist'?" "Since I started hanging out with you more." "We need to bring her in out of the cold, and quickly. Maybe there's a lord or lady nearby that could help. Your people could just drop her off --" "With the kind of money floating around for Vanesse's death, plus how unstable the political climate is right now, I'm not sure that's a good idea. Since Atlanta, a lot of the power plays have gone a bit more covert. Besides Atlanta, the only place in the United States I would go would be Lady Vega down in New Mexico, but her resources are spread out thin. Only Lord Stapleton has the clout and resources to protect Vanesse. Right now, she's in the safest hands I could recommend until we can move her South." Shepherd closed his eyes. "She must be terrified right now." ------------ --------------- Back in Canada . . . ------------ --------------- Vanesse was biting her fingernails. It was not a ladylike trait, to be sure, but she could not stop herself. She had never seen such mindless, senseless violence in her life. She had read about war, she had seen her best friend almost die, but this . . . nothing compared to the spectacle and chaos that was . . . hyena bowling. Initially, she had thought it was just a joke. Now, the Princess knew that it was one of the most savage martial contests known to any sentient species. Like most destructive things imagined by werehyenas, it had been created one afternoon when Farmer was bored, and had become a favorite pastime of Joker's Wild when they had nothing else to do. She and Trina watched as a three-hundred pound man positioned himself at the end of the lane. In mere moments, he was going to charge down towards the "pins," which consisted of the ten most senior members of the gang standing in a triangular formation, grinning evilly. The bowler would, using himself as the ball, reach the line and then jump at his comrades. The goal was simple . . . knock as many of them over as he could before any part of his body touched the ground. The problem was that the pins got to resist. Violently. The werehyena bowler took off, gathering speed and leaping at the assigned point. "He's not going to get anywhere," Trina muttered as the large man hurtled towards the one-pin, currently played by Farmer herself. The bowler made it as far as Farmer's arms before getting smashed to the ground. "C'mon Bruce," the pack-leader laughed, "that all ya got?" Vanesse was smiling herself, as Bruce picked himself up and was laughing hysterically. None of the bowlers who did poorly seemed to take it personally. "They're so weird," she whispered to her friend. Another thing that made Vanesse smile was that she and Trina had gotten that fight out of their system, and they were back to being co-conspirators in this grand kidnapping escapade. Well, except that they were free to go. But did not really want to. "How did you know he was going to fail?" "He took a straight line. It would work in normal bowling, but Farmer's too strong. It doesn't take much to shove someone towards the ground, no matter how big they are." "Ya know, it takes some of the fun out of it when you get so analytical," Vanesse replied, wrinkling her nose while picking up her pencil. Somehow, she had been talked into keeping score. "So that would be 'zero' then?" she asked. "A big goose egg for the Bruce-meister," Alani said from the two-pin position. She actually giggled when the big werehyena got on his hands and knees and proclaimed his lack of worthiness to the beautiful islander girl. "Hey, were all you guys bikers before Farmer took over?" the Princess asked, putting the scorecard in her lap. "A few," Ace said from the ten-pin position. "Bud and I were, and a few who ain't with us anymore." "Some of us just kinda picked it up after Farmer changed us," Doreen added, moving to the end of the lane for her turn. She cocked an eyebrow but grinned when Trina came over to her and started whispering something in her ear. "Most of us were just drawn to her once she took over the old pack, which was kinda small back then," Jack said. "Werehyenas are social, pack animals. A powerful alpha showed up, so we went to her. And besides --" "You were bored?" Vanessa asked with a smile. It was a safe bet that anything these guys did was out of boredom. "That girl wins a prize!" Farmer said. "Okay Doreen, are you gonna bowl or just make out with the battle-dancer?" "Can I go next?" Jack asked. "You're a pin. You can't bowl." "I didn't mean I wanted to bowl next," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows at Trina. She rolled her eyes back at him, though her mouth quirked a little bit. The Best Medicine Ch. 03 Doreen stared down the barrel of the gun that was the bowling lane. She crouched, took a deep breath, then sprinted. When the young blond woman got ten feet from the line, she leaped forward, rolled, then planted her feet and launched herself ten feet in the air. She cleared Farmer's head and hurtled down towards the third row, kicking and punching all the way down. The different rows of pins all started swinging back, and things got chaotic. The svelte young woman was getting pummeled from both sides, but she was giving as good as she got. "Son . . . of . . . a . . . bitch!" Doreen shouted, punching Jack in the kidney, then biting Ace's forearm. She was finally dropped like a rock, but not until she had knocked over five pins. "Sweet!" Farmer said, pulling her young protege up and giving her a big hug. "Best bowl of the day." "These people are completely insane," Vanesse muttered. "Trina!" Doreen shouted proudly, "you have GOT to try this!" "Do I look like I've lost complete control of my mental faculties?" the battle-dancer said. "C'mon, your idea was great!" the blonde said. "So, giving tips to the youngins?" Farmer asked. "I bet you could teach them all a thing or two." Trina raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything you haven't already shown them?" "Okay, are you two still talking about bowling, or am I missing something?" Vanesse asked. "Trina, you're still not a hundred percent. Don't let them bully you into something you can't handle." Trina lowered her head and sighed. Now, if she backed down, it would look like she was hiding behind Vanesse's excuse. And she hated looking like a wuss. And the final straw was -- "Bok bok bwok!" Farmer said, standing on one leg, bending her arms at the elbows, and doing the chicken dance. Thousand of years of social evolution, and that damn dance still worked. Trina growled and took her place at the starting line while the pins got into place. Every available Joker's Wild member instantly crowded into the room. Trina's martial skills were somewhat watercooler talk for the gang, and everyone wanted to see what she could pull off. She was still sore, and she knew that she was not at the top of her game, but Trina closed her eyes and sought out the rhythm, something with explosive percussion. She got into a sprinter's crouch, raised her hips, and then waited for that perfect melody, a seamless blend of cadence and chaos. The notes fell into place inside her mind, and the overture began. "Oh shit," someone muttered from the grouping of pins. It was Jack, and he more than the others just realized that the old saying "Be careful what you wish for" was suddenly quite applicable. Trina's eyes were not even open, but no one who watched her approach had any doubts that the battle-dancer knew exactly where they all were. Trina opened her eyes just before the launch spot, and she could not help but grin. Insane or not, this was going to be fun. She vaulted well over Farmer's head, evading those long powerful arms and then planting one hand down on the head of the five-pin. She treated the five-pin like an axle where Trina herself was the wheel, pushing down while basically running in a circle, kicking everyone surrounding her in the face or the back of the head. She was able to knock down the two, three, four, six, eight, and nine pins in a matter of seconds, but Farmer, the five, the seven, and the eleven still stood. The battle-dancer pushed up, launching herself two feet up above the hapless five-pin. She spun and mule-kicked the five in the back, sending him stumbling forward into Farmer while allowing Trina to dive towards the back row. "Holy fuck!" Doreen shouted. "She's going for the seven-ten split!" Sure enough, Trina landing astride the seven's shoulders, her crotch against his face. He did not have enough time to make an off-color comment before she flung her weight backwards and started to roll, sending herself and her captive tumbling into the ten. "She got the split!" someone shouted as the last werehyena in the back row was bowled over by his compatriot and the elvish assailant. Trina vaulted from her shoulders to her feet. She had been hoping for a little cheer or applause . . . something. Anything. But everyone was just staring. She followed their gaze to Farmer, who was still upright. Barely. The five-pin had clipped the back of Farmer's leg, throwing the werehyena severely off balance. And while hyenas were strong, cunning, and fast, they were not exactly known for their agility. She was on the tips of her toes while trying to resist gravity's persistent tug. Trina grinned. She walked past the wobbling pack leader and stood just out of arms reach. "You . . . bitch!" Farmer said, on the verge of losing her balance completely. The only response the battle-dancer gave was to slowly, gently blow the werehyena matriarch a kiss, then slowly walk away as Farmer started to laugh and finally lost her footing. That was when the crowd roared, and Trina was slapped heartily on the back. She winced, realizing just how many times she had been clawed, punched, and kicked during her athletic endeavor. "Owh," she muttered as she sat down next to Vanesse, who gave her a hug far stronger that Trina would have liked at the moment. "Owh again." "How bad is it? I told you you shouldn't --" "Don't . . . start with 'I told you so.' It's unbecoming a Princess." "Since when? I tell you that all the time." Trina sighed. She just could not explain schoolyard psychology to someone who was used to having private tutors. "Okay," Farmer said, beaming with something resembling pride, "for being the first bowler to ever get a strike in hyena bowling, you get to double up your prize." Trina scrunched her eyebrows. "Prize? Besides the satisfaction of knocking you on your ass, what prize is there?" "You get to pick your fuck-buddy. Normally you get one for a day, but you can either have two for a day or one for two days." The battle-dancer looked stunned. Probably because she was. "A what?" "Fuck . . . buddy," Farmer said slowly, getting a bit of a kick out of this little surprise. "You know, someone to --" "Yeah, I know what one is. I don't want one," Trina said, her skin feeling a little flushed. 'Yeah you do,' Farmer thought, fighting the urge to steal a glance at Vanesse. 'You just won't ask her.' "C'mon, are you telling me that there's no one . . . Jack, put your hand down," she growled. Jack was standing in the middle of the pins, his arm outstretched. "I respectfully refuse to comply." He grinned at Trina, who just rolled her eyes back at him. When Ace raised his hand, Jack tried to bat it down. Quickly, arms went flying up into the air, Jack tried to slap away the competition, then a scrum broke out. Werehyenas were jumping up and down on each other, biting and clawing and punching with complete disregard for their own well-beings. "See what you did?" Farmer asked. "Me? This is because you people are all nuts," the battle-dancer replied. "Well, yes, but you still started this." "Trina, would it really hurt?" Vanesse asked. "I mean, I know why I didn't have sex all those years, but it's been just as long for you --" 'Please, stop talking,' Trina thought. Having her best friend point out that she was in a bit of a dry spell, however true it might be, was more than just a little embarrassing. "-- as it has been for me. And you said that you used to have a lot of sex. I'm sure --" 'And now I'm a recovering slut that hasn't been able to get any.' Vanesse blundered on. "-- that any one of the werehyenas would be more than happy to --" "Okay, okay! Jack!" Trina said finally. The scrum behind Farmer stopped in an instant. There was a lot of mumbling and groaning, and then one arm erupted from the pile before a muffled "Woo hoo!" was heard. "Vanesse, a word in private?" The Princess swallowed a breath, then followed her friend into the next room. Then the room after that, then down the hall -- "Where are we going?" "Far enough that they can't hear us." Trina stopped, grabbed Vanesse by her sweatshirt, and lifted the girl off the ground. "What are you doing to me?!" she hissed at her understandably nervous friend. "Good grief, you don't tell them stuff like that. Now how am I supposed to get out of this?" "Why would you want to? Jack is a very attractive man, and he's obviously infatuated with you." "He is, but . . . but he's not. And that's beside the point. This is a completely inappropriate time for me to be thinking about that sort of thing." "Why? You're encouraging me to do it, but you won't?" "You need it to realize your power. I don't. My needs can wait --" "But they don't need to! What, are you just going to deny your own urges forever so that you can stand guard over me?" Vanesse suddenly blushed and looked toward the ground. "I was . . . uhm, going to follow your advice about trying new things. Tonight. Are you just going to stand there and watch?" It was a thought that made Trina shiver just a bit, though not for the reason Vanesse might think if she noticed. It was a thought of those soft curves and generous lips in the throes of passion . . . Trina shuddered again. "You know I'll give you your privacy," she said firmly. "It is my duty --" "Screw your 'duty.' You're not just my guard, but you're my friend, and I won't be able to enjoy any of this if I know it's keeping you from being happy." "I am happy," Trina almost whimpered. Vanesse raised an eyebrow. "Right. Okay, you've forced my hand. I don't have sex again until you do." "Princess, you can't --" "Oh yes I can. And stop calling me 'Princess.' YOU call me Vanesse. You're my friend, and I'm yours. It stinks that I have to keep reminding you of that." "You never have to remind me," Trina corrected her. "But we are not normal friends, which I should not have to keep reminding YOU about." Vanesse folded her arms across her ample chest. "Don't care. If you're not doing it, then I'm not doing it." "This has got to be one of the dumbest conversations I've ever had," the battle-dancer muttered. "Are you really going to . . . of course you are," she added, finishing her own question. One look at Vanesse's face and posture made it clear that the young Princess was dead serious about her threat. "Fine." From down the hall, another distinct "Woo hoo!" was heard. "Eavesdropping is a horrible habit," Trina growled. Part of her mind was still trying to figure out a way out of the whole thing, while another threatened to revolt. It was not as if her needs had abated in the last fifteen years, only her ability to do anything about them. Now she had an attractive, athletic, and highly energetic lycanthrope on the verge of begging her for sex, and she was seriously thinking of saying no? Just because part of her felt somewhat guilty about cheating on someone that she could never be with anyway and did not even know that Trina felt the way that she did? --------- ---------------- In Denver, CO --------- ---------------- Abraham Holmes and Christopher Knight stood in the shadows of the casting room. In the center of the room, a beautiful, dark-haired woman sat, draped in a silk robe that barely covered the lushness of her body. It was a body that had been built for sin, and sin was what it had done. Those seemingly delicate hands had done horrible things, and had been dipped in blood for centuries. "Snow," the woman whispered, her voice deep and rich and full of promises that should probably never be kept. "A blanket of cold, pulled tightly around them." She stared down at the bones she used for her diving, eating the secrets they offered like she had once devoured the flesh that adorned them. Young flesh, young bones . . . more accurate castings. Christopher wanted to point out that "snow" was something he could have guessed on his own, but it was unwise to interrupt Natasha while she was casting. Or talking. Or . . . well, at all. "Still in the land of maple leaves and stags. They travel the coward's road, not at the bottom, but at the top. Cannot see the coachmen, for their magic is strong. Primal magic . . . old magic. Amongst the wild animals is a flower. She is blooming . . . growing thorns of her own. But for now, she is surrounded by the brambles, and you will not be able to approach her without being stung. The animals can be fought, but the brambles must be burned." With that, Natasha stopped. "Is that all?" Abraham asked. None of what she had just said made any sense to him, but it never did at first. He and some of his people would analyze it in the morning, and usually they could figure something out based on the context. "For now," the beautiful woman whispered. "I'm thirsty now. You've emptied my mind. Now you have to fill my heart." 'What heart?' Christopher thought, then shrugged and turned around when he got the nod from his boss. He opened the door, went through, then quickly reappeared with a young man in tow. The kid was only eighteen or nineteen years old at best, and he was dressed in what were obviously party clothes. He reeked of beer and sweat, and his eyes were glazed a little bit. "Young," Natasha hissed, not even noticing the two werewolves vanishing through the door to her chamber. "Sweet. Are you sweet?" she asked, rising slowly to her feet. "God, you are HOT!" the boy said, stumbling a bit. "They told me . . . but man! They said that there was this hot, rich chick that dug younger guys and I thought they were full of shit, but it wasn't like I was doing --" he stopped rambling when Natasha put her finger on his lips. "It is not your conversation I desire," she whispered huskily, then let her flimsy robe slip off her shoulders. She saw her toy's eyes dilate when they fell on the curve of her full breasts, and he licked his lips as if they were already tasting her nipples. His gaze rolled down from the top of her hourglass shape to the bottom, where those eyes tried to penetrate her in ways he hoped the rest of him soon would. But finally, she heard the quickening of his breath and the pounding of his part. It was no longer her exquisitely sinful body that had his attention, but rather her mouth. Her naturally red lips . . . her shining white teeth . . . her long, dangerous teeth. "What the --" he whispered, a rabbit finally aware of the predator closing in. Natasha leapt forward and smashed the young man against the wall. She heard some bones snap, and she heard him scream. She was shorter than him and was actually likely outweighed by 30 pounds at least, but she held his tortured body against the wall with ease. Her fangs plunged into his neck. He was as sweet as she had hoped, and his screams were like candy. For the boy, his adolescent dreams about vampire vixens had turned into a nightmare. Natasha could have drunk just enough to survive. She could have coaxed him willingly to be her meal. Eagerly even. She could have made it hurt less. But where would the fun in that have been? --------- --------------------------- A cold night in Canada . . . --------- --------------------------- Trina poked her head around the corner and stared down the hallway. Nothing. She glanced behind her. For the time being, it seemed that she had escaped her pursuer. She slipped into the darkness and slid down the corridor to the safety of -- "What the --" she started to say as a door opened and she was pulled inside a small room where blankets had been laid out and an electric lantern gave off a dim yellow glow. Standing between Trina and the newly closed door was Jack. He had his shirt off, exposing his chest, rippling with muscles and covered with colorful, ornate tattoos. For a moment, Trina could not take her eyes off of either that chest or its decorations. "You," Jack said with a grin, "are a hard woman to track down. Guess I owe the Princess fifty bucks." "Huh?" "She told me you'd probably bolt after dinner. Figured you'd head this way." "That traitorous --" Trina grumbled, then found herself stepping back as Jack stepped forward. "Listen, we don't have to do this." "But I WANT to do this." He cocked his head. "You really aren't attracted to me at all, are you?" "It's not that," she said, maybe a little too quickly. 'It's not that at all,' she thought, staring at the dragon tattoo that crossed his chest, its tail hanging down over that glorious six-pack of abs. "I'm just . . . it's . . . well --" "I never thought I'd see you speechless," Jack said, stepping forward again. When Trina put her hands on his chest to keep him away, he grabbed them and held them in place. "Okay, so if you ARE attracted to me, then what's the big deal? Let's get biz-zay!" Trina rolled her eyes, then realized that her hands were still on Jack's chest. And she felt a charge that was more than sexual. "Okay, what is with the muscles and the . . . energy?" "Oh, our tattoos are actually protection wards," Jack said. The longer you're around, the more of them you get." "Wait, these are skin wards?" Trina asked, suddenly excited. She peered closely at his skin, and was finally able to see the slight indentations caused by the warding process, incorporated perfectly into the design. She traced the dragon's tail down over Jack's abs. "What does this one do?" "Go a little lower, and you'll find out." Trina looked lower, then blushed just a little. Jack's own "dragon" was straining against his pants. And apparently, it was a pretty big dragon. "Wanna seem him breathe fire?" Jack asked. "If that spits fire, then you need to check your diet," Trina replied, standing up and trying to back away. Well, her mind was trying to back away. Her body was failing to cooperate. "I hear that the taste of fresh elf helps cure all ills," he replied. "Too bad you're on a diet." He scrunched his eyes. " Okay, I don't get it. You dig me. More than you'll admit, anyway. You're trying to convince Vanesse to have fun, but you don't want to have any yourself. What, think that she can't love you if you fuck someone else? Isn't that what --" "Who said that I loved her?" Trina said, stepping back with more ease now. Now, she was mad. "If it was Farmer --" "Calm down. Farmer didn't say a thing. Crap, I think the only one who hasn't figured it out is Vanesse." Trina leaned against the wall. "I guess I'm not as controlled as I thought," she whispered. "I can't afford to lose that." "Au contraire," Jack interjected. "You need to lose it. For a sexy, smart bitch, you're wound tighter than a goblin's rectum." "What an interesting . . . and vile . . . mental image." "I do my best. Now sit." "Huh?" "I said sit." Jack pushed Trina so that she plopped her butt down on a set of blankets, and was happy to note that she did not object when he knelt down and starting taking off her shoes. She glared at him, but it was a friendly glare. "Presumptuous much?" "Do you ever stop bitching?" "I don't . . . oh," Trina murmured, her voice sliding dangerously towards aroused when Jack put his thumbs on the bottom on her left food and started to massage the muscles with his strong and precise hands. "That good?" "Mmh," Trina moaned. She felt Jack put one foot on his chest, then he started working on the other one. "Useful skill." "Picked it up on the bodybuilding circuit back in the day. Athletic women, even the smartest ones, sometimes forget to take care of the simple things." "It helped you get laid, didn't it?" Jack grinned. "Let's just say that it didn't exactly hurt my chances." Trina relaxed against the warm blankets and just let Jack's hands work their magic. "It still doesn't." She did not even need to look at Jack to know that he was probably smirking. He was going to get what he wanted and, when Trina allowed a moment to be honest with herself, she was going to get what she wanted too. The Best Medicine Ch. 03 Much to Jack's credit, He did not jump to what might be considered the main event. He soothed the tension from both feet, then worked Trina's calves. By the time he got to her thighs, Trina realized that she was more than ready. While Jack was caressing the long, taut muscles of Trina's thigh, she let her other leg slide down, and she slowly caressed Jack's crotch with the top of her foot. Jack let out a low growl. There was no threat in the noise, but was rather just a primal release. "Big boy," Trina whispered. The werehyena male grabbed Trina's sweatpants near the knees and then tugged them down. The little cotton panties that adorned the entrance to the elf's paradise would have been ugly on anyone else, but their conservative nature seemed consistent with his impression of her. A cool facade, but what lay behind it was something special. Magical. And to get to the magical part, he ripped off those white cotton panties. "Oh, daddy likes." Trina let out a long groan as Jack's mouth found its way to her sex, his tongue moving like a thing alive. It had been so long since anyone had touched her down there besides herself, and she had forgotten what it was like. But as her folds were pushed apart and that tongue burrowed its way inside, she was remembering. Her hands gripped his short black hair, holding on for the sake of her own mind. "Oh sweet spirits," Trina moaned, arching herself against Jack's mouth. She wanted him deeper. She wanted more. She . . . well, she simply wanted. Outside, the young werehyena Doreen was grinning like a fool, and she crept down the hallway from the doorway towards the main lodge area. She quickly crossed to the room that had been put aside for the Princess, where Vanesse, Farmer, and Alani were waiting. "You were right," the young blond woman said, "Trina walked right into the 'trap.' And I've had one of Jack's footrubs before --" "Ooh, smart move!" Alani said with smile. "No warm-blooded female can resist those." "So they're doing . . . you know? It?" Vanesse asked, her skin warm and her heart fluttering like a butterfly on speed. "Sounded and smelled like he was dining down at the Y," Doreen said smugly. Trina stared blankly at the blonde t-girl. "Huh?" "He was eating her out," Doreen replied. "Cunnilingus," Alani added. "Oral --" Farmer started to say. "Got it, got it," Vanesse said quickly, her blush in full effect. "You're so cute when you get flustered," the werehyena matriarch snickered. "I'm not flustered!" Vanesse's voice betrayed her by cracking halfway through "flustered." "So, since your bodyguard is getting some," Farmer said, reaching out and tracing a finger down Vanesse's arm, "does that mean your own 'sex strike' is over?" "I . . . uh, well I never actually said --" "So you're not interested in picking up where we left off the other night?" Alani chuckled. Farmer had actually managed to pout when she had asked that question. "Boss, be nice. She's just a babe in the woods." Vanesse's embarrassment turned to irritation. "I'm not a child." The pacific islander looked over the Princess hungrily. "I should think not." Doreen's eyes were bright as she stared at Vanesse. "She smells wonderful. Aroused." Farmer saw Vanesse blanch, and quickly cuffed her young pack-mate. That cuff, along with a low growl, cowed Doreen. Vanesse was startled. "Hey, you didn't need to --" "It's okay," Doreen said. Her body language indicated a submissive posture, but her face did not reflect any real shame. She was just a kid who's hand, or in this case 'nose,' got caught in the cookie jar. "I forgot my place. I'm still new at this." "Your place?" "Yeah. Farmer's the alpha. She gets first claim at what she wants." Vanesse actually felt her anger growing. "I don't belong to her." Farmer stood up. "No, you don't. But the pack does. If I want something, they can't have it unless I let them, and it'll be that way until one of them gets around to knocking me off. I can't tell you to do anything. Well, I won't tell you to do anything. But I can tell you that I want you," she added, stepping in close. "Really badly." The Princess swallowed involuntarily. "What about what I want?" And for a moment, there was no judgment in the werehyena's eyes, nor even the teasing that Vanesse was used to. "What DO you want?" It was the first time in fifteen years that anyone, besides Trina of course, had asked the Princess what she wanted. "Honestly?" "Of course." "I don't know." Farmer sniffed the Princess's delicate skin just below the ear. "Did you like what I did to you the last time?" Vanesse's skin must have been a bright shade of red, but she was not some timid little mouse. "Yes," she said, a little steel in her spine though her knees were watery. The werehyena put her hand behind Vanesse's neck and held it firmly but gently. "Good, because I want to do it again. I want to fuck you so hard that you can't remember your own name, and leave you begging for more. I want to show you everything that two . . . or more," she said, glancing at her two fellow bikers, "can do with each other." Vanesse's eyes widened. She had talked about the notion of multiple partners with Trina, and she would be lying to herself if the idea had not piqued more than her interest, but . . . here? Now? With three transexual women? While Vanesse's mind was reeling, Trina had left coherent thought behind ten minutes earlier and was in no mood to reclaim it. Jack and his tongue's relentless pursuit of her tootsie-roll center had caused her to orgasm so hard that her teeth almost shattered as she tried to keep herself from screaming. Her legs were wrapped around his head and her heels were digging into his back, and her fingers were pulling tightly on his hair. "So, that works for you then?" Jack said happily. He was one of those guys who never understood why more of his male brethren neglected their "foreplay" skills. Fifteen minutes ago, Trina had still been resistant to his advances. Now -- Faster than Jack could blink, Trina had rolled him onto his back using her legs, then she slid down his body until she could get a good view of the bulge in his pants. Her hands methodically unbuttoned and unzipped those pants, then yanked them in a not-so-delicate fashion down below his hips. Her eyes opened. "You tattooed your penis?" she muttered, staring down at what was by all accounts another dragon tattoo. "Yep. Hurt like a bitch, but it was worth it." Trina agreed. She was actually pretty impressed, both by the artwork and the cock itself. It was about eight inches long, was suitably thick and was crowned by a perfect head. One hand encircled it, stroking it and watching the ink move over his shaft. "Wait, if each of your tats is a skin ward, then what --" "Stamina," Jack interrupted with a grin. "That ward was for stamina." 'Fifteen years without and on my first time back on the horse, I get this?' she thought. 'I must have pleased the spirits in a former life.' She opened her mouth and sucked the head in, and kept stroking the shaft with her hand. She had never been good at deep throating, but she found that most guys were fine with this technique. Jack's heavy breathing and hip movements certainly seemed to indicate that he was not displeased. Oral sex was a new concept to Vanesse. Farmer was lying back while Doreen was in the process of showing the Princess "how it was done." The lithe young blonde's mouth seemed far too small to handle the immense rod between Farmer's legs, but she seemed bound and determined to try. Both of her fairly small hands were wrapped around the shaft, jerking it excitedly while she vainly tried to pound as much as she could down her throat. "Easy, little one," Farmer growled. "It's a cock, not a pile-driver." "Saw-wee," Doreen said. "And don't talk with your mouthful." "Deep-throating is an art, so don't worry if you're not able to do it right away or at all," Alani was explaining, whispering into Vanesse's ear. She was hard as steel in her own pants, and only fear of Farmer's wrath kept her from humping the elf's leg. 'God, she's hot,' the werehyena thought. Her eyes kept falling to Vanesse's more-than-generous breasts, which were rising and falling with increased excitement. And Doreen had been right earlier. The Princess smelled so good. "Why don't you give this a try?" Farmer asked, her voice warm and chocolaty. "But . . . I --" "It won't bite," Alani whispered. "Trust me, I'm intimately aware of its capabilities." Vanesse sank to her knees without even realizing that she was doing it. Farmer's cock was sticking up so straight that there should have been a flag flying from it. She reached a hand out and touched it, using that soft grip that she knew Farmer had liked the last time. Doreen's head was just to the left of the head, and she was smiling. Alani took her place on the other side, pointing Farmer's cock at Vanesse's mouth. 'There's nothing to be afraid of,' the Princess thought, her mouth opening as her face drew closer. The looks she was getting from Doreen and Alani were mixtures of amusement and encouragement. But still she delayed, at least until Farmer grabbed a handful of hair and "encouraged" Vanessa to take that large cock between her lips. It was incredibly warm in her mouth, and the fleshy, velvety feel of it was actually kind of exciting. "Fuck yeah," Farmer let out with a gasp. The Princess's tender touch was amazing, and in great contrast the treatment she usually received. Not that she minded Doreen's enthusiasm, but this . . . this was something special. "Play with her balls too," Doreen whispered. "She likes that." Vanesse cupped that heavy sack with one hand, impressed by the sheer weight of it. She squeezed gently, then concentrated on working the cock in and out of her mouth. At first, she did not try to go much past the head, taking her teachers' advice. Farmer was not quite so interested in playing it safe, pushing with her hips so that more of her rod was in the Princess's throat. "I've never been blown by royalty before," Farmer said with a chuckle. "This is a leader who knows how to serve her people." For a moment, Vanesse imagined what Farmer was thinking: an elvish Princess servicing her whole kingdom. The idea was . . . exciting? 'Yes,' Vanesse realized. The idea turned her on. Even as she thought this and as her mouth quickened its pace, she could feel the beginnings of a trickle of energy. Farmer noticed the increased excitement. "That something you want?" she murmured. "To be a royal slut?" She waited, seeing how the talk would affect Vanesse. She was pleased when the elf start sucking a little harder. 'So, she's a nympho in the making, huh?' Farmer thought. "Alani, Doreen, why don't you help the Princess here get comfortable." Vanesse felt herself being undressed, and she had to stop her blowjob so that her shirt could be pulled over her head before her bra was removed. She quickly picked up again, tasting the small quantity of precum that oozed out of the little slot at the end of Farmer's penis. She had to stand up again so that she could be relieved of her pants and panties. But before she could get back on her knees -- "Why don't you sit on Doreen's face?" the pack matriarch asked. "She got a little uppity earlier, and I think she needs to learn from your example that serving others is its own reward." "I didn't want to punish --" Vanesse stopped as Doreen almost threw herself on the ground and crawled between Vanesse's legs. Her eyes did not reflect the thoughts of someone being punished. Neither did the fact that she was licking her lips. "I think she'll be okay," Farmer said, then she pushed on the Princess's shoulders until Vanesse was sitting on Doreen's face. "But . . . oh . . . oh!" Vanesse muttered, her voice rising and her eyes widening. "It's . . . wow!" "Girl's got enthusiasm. Why do you think I agreed to change her?" Farmer said, then thrust her cock into Vanesse's mouth. "Fuck yeah. Alani, you gotta get a piece of this." Vanesse watched with a hunger she did not know that she possessed as Alani stripped down to nothing but her light-brown skin, and there was seven inches of she-male hardness pointed right at the Princess's face. Farmer pulled her dick out of Vanesse's mouth, and Alani's took its place. "Shame on you boss," the islander girl cooed. "Keeping this honey to yourself after all I've done for you." "Hey, you're the first person I picked to try her out," Farmer said, taking back control of Vanesse's head and mouth. "Bullshit," Alani replied. "You know you would've given Jack seconds, except he's banging the bodyguard down the hall." The Princess got the idea to start stroking whomever she was not sucking, so no one was getting left out. The slight trickle of energy she had felt early was growing, as was her confidence as she moved her mouth from cock to cock. Doreen's tongue seemed so far inside Vanesse's body that she would probably be able to taste Farmer's cock soon, and it was making it very difficult to concentrate. To top it all off, she found herself picturing what was going on just down the hall. Down the hall, Trina was straddling Jack's hips, riding him like a rodeo bull and holding on for a lot longer than eight seconds. Her hands were pressed against his heavily developed pectoral muscles, gripping so tightly that she was leaving fingernail indentions in his skin. Her brown hair swung wildly about her shoulders, except for a few strands that clung to the sweat on her shoulders. Jack had come to understand the phrase, "Be careful what you wish for." Trina's genie was out of the bottle, and it was granting wishes that Jack had not realized that he had made. The calm and collected girl was gone, but the passionate dancer remained. She fit Jack like no one he ever remembered, and she was as lost in the act of sex as she was when she fought. Her small breasts were bouncing so hard that Jack felt obligated to wrap his hands around them. For their own protection, of course. "How (bounce) long (bounce) can (bounce) you (bounce) hold (bounce) on (bounce) for?" Trina asked in a series of grunts. "Babe, I can last as long as I want." Trina sank all the way down onto that beautiful dick and smiled. "THAT is a useful ability to have." Then she stood up, leaving Jack dangling, although not for long. She grabbed him by the arms, pulled him to his feet, then jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. "Crap, you don't do anything halfway, do you?" Jack said, shoving her back against the wall and drilling up into her with his hips. The battle-dancer just spurred his ass with her heels and concentrated on feeling him as he entered her and filled her. Her senses lit up when her orgasm hit her, coming on so fast that it took her by surprise. Her vaginal walls gripped him and her body arched. Her hands gripped his hair so tightly that he was probably going to have some thin patches after it was all said and done. But for Jack, what made it all worth it was the smile. Trina had on her face a quirky little half-smile that just seemed to put her whole face at ease in a way that Jack had not seen. Normally, she was beautiful. Smiling, she was angelic. "So, you said you could last as long as you wanted?" she asked, tired but obviously happy. She gave him a quick kick in the ass with her heels. "As the lady commands," he smiled back, and started thrusting again. Meanwhile, Vanesse was getting a thrill of her own. Doreen, after making the Princess climax, was getting in on the royal blowjob action, meaning that elvish royalty was on its knees in front of three werehyenas, and she was having the time of her life. She had been moving rapidly from one cock to the next, amazed at how the different sizes and widths required different techniques. And it was young Doreen who came first, giving little warning before shooting a heavy stream of cum into Vanesse's mouth. The Princess sputtered a bit, sticky white stuff dribbling out onto her chin on down onto her tits. "Damn, she looks sweet like that," Alani said. "Swallow it down," Farmer told the Princess. "That's good energy right there." Vanesse had no idea if that was true or not, but she was not backing down from anything at that point. She was beginning to get a heady buzz as her energy stores were rapidly filling up. Sex was life, life was power . . . the power of a necromancer. With a few gulps, the sticky sweetness was on its way down her throat. She felt sparks igniting behind her eyes with each drop. "More," she whispered. She wanted the charge. "More," she said, more firmly, grabbing Alani's cock and stuffing it into her mouth. "Now that's what I want to hear," Farmer said. Vanesse reluctantly pulled her lips off of Alani's staff. "By the way, why do they call you Farmer anyway?" Alani laughed. "Her real name is --" "Don't you dare," Farmer growled. Alani grinned, then sighed as the Princess licked the head of her cock. "She's blowing me. I've got to tell her." Farmer chuckled, then circled around behind Vanesse, while Alani explained. "She got the name 'Farmer' because of all the fertile fields that she's plowed," the islander beauty said, watching her boss slide her full nine-inches into Vanesse from behind. "And her real name is Kim." Vanesse barely heard what was being said, but she caught enough that it made her smile. "Kim? They call you . . . Kim?" "Great," Farmer grunted, plunging the length of her rod into the elf's body. "I would happen to run into the one insanely hot, isolated elvish princess who's seen Monty Python." She was a little grateful to see that Vanesse had gone back to sucking on Alani's cock, and she was getting at least half of it in her mouth. Vanesse was feeling so unbelievably charged. She was getting rammed from the back, her mouth was stretched around Alani's tool, and Doreen was lying on her back and sucking on one of Vanesse's nipples. "These things are huge," the young werehyena said, then sucked on each tit like a babe looking for milk. 'She was built for sex,' Farmer thought, feeling the velvet grip of Vanesse's tunnel as she slid in and out. She seemed perfectly at home being pleasured by three chicks with dicks. 'Don't find many like this,' she admitted. The Princess had never imagined anything could come close to what she was experiencing. There was the sheer, raw pleasure of what was happening, with the most feminine examples of masculinity she had ever imagined entering her . . . filling her. And there was so much power! Every thrust of their hips, every hint of their cum, all of it just making her skin feel warm . . . her very soul was charged. She had said "more," but she realized that she truly wanted it. More. More sex, more life, more energy, more . . . more everything. Vanesse reached around and grabbed Alani's ass, tantalizing the skin with her fingernails and encouraging more oral penetration. Not that Alani really needed much encouragement. "Less teeth . . . careful . . . yeah, that's it," Alani told the less experienced elf. "Lips and suction and . . . yeah, good tongue. Very good tongue." Farmer upped her tempo, mounting her chosen mate like an animal. Being around other werehyenas all the time meant a lot of anal, so the touch of a "normal" woman was a treat, and the touch of a woman as beautiful as Vanesse was treasured. She hated the idea that the rest of the gang hand not gotten to experience the Princess. Yet. From the way Vanesse was behaving, it seemed likely that the others might gain an opportunity. Farmer just needed to make sure the Princess was treated right. Being open with her sexuality was NOT going to lead to being abused. Not in Farmer's pack. The Best Medicine Ch. 03 Alani exploded into Vanesse's mouth, pumping a gallon of cum into those waiting cheeks. "Gentle," she whispered as the Princess swallowed the load without releasing Alani's member, then the elf slowly sucked the pump dry. Vanesse was wondering if her eyes were glowing, because she felt electrified. "More!" she growled, looking back over her shoulder at Farmer. She pushed back hard against that enormous cock, squeezing with her insides. "Crap, we've got a little nympho!" Doreen giggled. Even as Farmer increased speed again, hurrying towards a massive climax of her own, she began to worry a little bit. Was this too much for the elf? Vanesse had been all but a virgin just a few days ago. Was the power she got actually addictive? But while her brain was beginning to have doubts, Farmer's body was on autopilot. She plunged as far in as she could go and came. She had not even realized that she could cum that much, but this girl . . . this woman, she brought out the beast in the dark-skinned matriarch. When Vanesse started to ask for "more" again, Farmer covered the woman's mouth. "I think you've had enough for one day." She smiled a little when Vanesse started to pout. "Now don't be like that. You don't see your friend being so greedy, do you?" Vanesse looked down the dark hall. She indeed wondered how Trina was holding up. She bit her bottom lip and started to head down the hall. "Crap!" Farmer hissed, grabbing a blanked and putting herself into pursuit. If Vanesse didn't catch her death of cold, a recently fucked and still highly aroused woman walking through a building full of horny werehyenas would NOT end well. Or maybe it would, at least from Vanesse's point of view. "I just want to see how she's doing," Vanesse whispered, though accepted the blanket. She had not really noticed the cold before, as her body was still practically glowing from what it had just experienced. She also realized that she had just lied. She did not just want to see how Trina was doing. She was picturing her friend doing what she herself had just done, and it made her heart race. Farmer and Vanesse got to the room where Jack had ambushed the battle-dancer, and they easily heard the sounds of sex filtering out from behind the heavy door. "Please, can I --" Jack was saying. "Not . . . done . . . yet!" came Trina's voice. It was harsher and . . . well, more primal than Vanesse had ever heard it before. "But I haven't cum yet and my balls are going to fall off! You've cum five times!" Farmer stifled a chuckled as she slowly pushed the door open. Trina was astride Jack's hip, riding him like a woman possessed. Then something occurred to her. Vanesse had not had a chance to orgasm yet. The elf had been so intent on getting her partners off that she had not achieved her own release. "She's . . . wow," Vanesse whispered. Her eyes were wide and clear, and Farmer could see a spark behind them somewhere. A few things passed through the werehyena's mind. The first, much to her own surprise, was jealousy. Sure, Vanesse had shown great desire for Farmer, but this was much more intense. Then Farmer's brain went down the wicked path. She covered Vanesse's mouth while wrapping her other arm around the woman's waist from behind, her hand firmly between the Princess's thighs. "Didn't want you to think that I'd forgot about you," she whispered, her fingers touching Vanesse's swollen mound. She kept her hand in place to prevent Vanesse's moan from escaping. As Trina continued to treat Jack like her pogo stick, Farmer finger-fucked Vanesse towards erotic oblivion. "Cum," Trina told Jack, wanting to feel the explosion of life within her as she climaxed again. "Cum," Farmer whispered into Vanesse's ear. A few flicks of the thumb against the Princess's clitoris made it happen, and Farmer felt the gentle yet powerful vibrations rumbling through the woman's body as she succumbed to release. Trina's eyes were a little foggy, and she could barely hear anything over the crackling of flames, the gasp of Jack as he finally unloaded, and the pounding of her own heart. Vanesse had been right. The battle-dancer had really needed this. "Hope it was . . . (gasp) . . . good for you too," Jack said, his now incredibly sensitive cock still inside Trina's body, apparently debating with his brain as to where blood should be flowing. "It was okay," Trina said dryly, "but you could really stand to work on your form." She almost . . . almost . . . laughed when the werehyena looked offended. Trina grinned, then felt a draft and looked toward the door. It was open a crack, but there was no one there. Just outside, Farmer had Vanesse pressed up against the wall, just out of sight of the door. She could hear that pounding heart and could smell an increased arousal, but she would not let Trina know that she had been spied on. Vanesse had seen her best friend in a whole new light now, so Farmer would let the elf figure out what to do about it. --------- -------------------- The next morning . . . --------- -------------------- Trina awoke from her guardian trance with a definite smoothness. It seemed that she had truly worked a lot of the kinks out the night before. She had found Vanesse curled up with Farmer while Alani and Doreen were crashed nearby. But when Trina looked around, she saw that Farmer was already awake and was on the satellite phone. " . . . so I figured I needed to call," the werehyena matriarch was saying. "No, that's good. Thank you. I need to make sure to keep an eye out, but I wanted to make sure I wasn't doing anything wrong." Farmer grinned. "No, I'm pretty sure I did that part right. If we ever meet, I'll demonstrate. Really? Excellent! Thanks Lillian." Then she hung up. "What was that about?" Trina asked, stretching and yawning at the same time. "Something I wanted to talk to you about anyway." Farmer sat down. "Last night, I was beginning to wonder if the whole 'power rush' that necromancers get from sex might be addictive." Trina steeled herself against the jealousy she knew that she was going to feel. "Why?" "Last night, she had sex with three of us," Farmer said, waiting for Trina to explode. "She really seemed to enjoy herself, but --" "But what?" "She seemed to want more. A lot more. I wasn't sure if that was normal." Trina's shoulders relaxed a little. "As far as I know, it's kind of like alcohol. You need to know your limits." She swallowed some air along with her pride. "Thank you." That was NOT what Farmer had been expecting. "For what?" "For not abusing what she's offering. For caring enough to worry about whether she's taking it too far." Farmer nodded. "Surprised because of the whole biker thing? Can't say that I blame you. I'm not exactly a model citizen, but there are some things I just don't do." She smiled. "So, will Jack be telling tales of things that you will do?" Trina rolled her eyes. "Are you actually asking if Jack will talk incessantly about something that will annoy me?" "Right. Sorry. Forgot who I was talking about." Farmer cocked her head. "But he behaved himself?" Trina allowed her mouth to curl slight upward at the edges. "His behavior was satisfactory." "From you, that's an statement of undying love." "Don't give him any ideas." "Don't give who what ideas?" a yawning Princess muttered from the door behind them. "Princess," Trina said, averting her eyes when she saw that her best friend was dressed in nothing but a blanket. Her hair had a recently-fucked look to it, and her face had a lazy contentment. But what was most striking was . . . well, it was almost a glow. Vanesse looked healthy. Happy even. "It was . . . nothing." Vanesse frowned. Why was Trina acting awkward again? She had not seemed awkward last night. The Princess felt her throat tighten a bit as she thought about Trina having sex with Jack. "Didn't I tell you to stop calling me 'Princess'?" "It doesn't stop you from being my Princess," Trina said. 'Damn, that sounded lame,' she thought. Farmer wanted to throttle both of them. She knew how Trina felt about Vanesse, and now she was pretty sure that the Princess had certain "interests" in her bodyguard. The two of them were just hopelessly blind. It was Vanesse's turn to roll her eyes. "I'm going to have to fight you on this forever, aren't I?" She sighed. "I'm going to get dressed, then I'd like to take a walk," she added knowingly. 'Meaning she wants to talk about what happened last night,' Trina thought despondently. "I'll be here." Sure enough, Vanesse launched into a fairly detailed description of what had happened to her the previous night. Trina actually felt that her friend was enjoying recounting the event almost as much as she had performing in it. 'She's turning into an exhibitionist and a tease,' Trina thought, her outward visage steady while her blood pressure was anything but. The battle-dancer tried to get a feel for how in control her friend was during these sexual situations. "I . . . I think I'm still in control. I mean yeah, I wanted to keep going, but I was really enjoying it." "Do you think you've filled your energy reservoirs up?" "I'm not sure. I've never had a battery before. I don't feel full, but I have no way to tell." "I've got a feeling that you'll be able to tell. Just be careful." "Lillian said that I can unload extra energy with minor healing and rejuvenation spells. I guess I could help the werehyenas out a bit." "If your stuff works on them. Did Farmer mention that all those tattoos of theirs are integrated with or are hiding skin wards?" "No. Really? Damn. If I can't unload onto them, I guess I could practice other stuff. Or give you an energy boost." Vanesse's angelic face transformed to something a little more wicked. "It might help you keep up with Jack or . . . whoever." 'Why did I say that?' she thought. 'Maybe Trina won't notice.' Trina had certainly noticed. "I don't think there will be any repeats of last night for me," she said firmly. "At least not for a while. Too much is happening too quickly, and I need to be on guard." Vanesse could see the signs of her friend digging her heels in, but she found herself unable to let it go. "But you had fun, right?" "I suppose --" "Don't give me that crap," Vanesse replied. "I saw you --" She stopped and covered her mouth. Trina's eyes shot open. "You what?" "I . . . saw you? I don't know, I just needed to see and make sure you were . . . having fun," she trailed off. "And you certainly seemed to be." Trina did not blush often, but she did then. "I wish you hadn't done that." "Why? You looked amazing. It was weird to see you so . . . happy? Excited? Alive? Whatever it was, it looked good on you." "Uhm, can we not talk about this?" Trina said. Vanesse was getting a little annoyed. "Why can we talk about my sex life but not yours? I just wanted --" "Hey girls," Jack said as he intruded into the elves' personal space, "Alani just said that the weather should be good today, so we're going to go ahead and move out in an hour or so." Trina breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for the first time that Jack was able to track her down wherever she might be. And for the first time, Vanesse wanted to snarl at the man. --------- ----------------- Hours later . . . --------- ----------------- "Okay, what is with you two?" Farmer growled, frustrated by the complete lack of conversation in the SUV. She had been trying like hell to get things moving, but Trina and Vanesse seemed to be mad at each other. Again. Actually, Vanesse just seemed mad at Trina, and Trina seemed sullen. "Nothing," both elves said at the same time. Farmer rubbed her forehead. 'These two can't remain stable for twenty-four hours,' she thought. 'They deserve each other.' She grabbed her walkie-talkie and set it to the frequency of the lead motorcyclist's helmet radio. "Bud, how are things going up there?" "Fine, came the response. "Not much has changed in the last ten minutes since you last asked. "No chance of an ambush? A fight? Roadkill? Anything?" "How can you be bored already?" "Remember who you're talking about," another rider piped in. "Farmer gets bored between deep breaths. Farmer flicked the radio off and sighed again. She waited a few minutes, then, "Okay, would one of you please tell me what hell has your respective panties in a twist?" "Or are you even wearing panties?" Jack asked from the back seat. "Feel free to say no." "Jack," Farmer growled. "Sorry." "We're fine," Trina grumbled. Vanesse sat with her arms folded, staring out the window. Finally, she snapped her head around. "Bullshit!" "Princess, we --" "Stop calling me Princess! Unless you're saying we're not friends anymore --" "I never said that! I certainly never meant it," Trina replied defensively. "Then why do you keep . . . well, distancing yourself. I do everything that you say I should do, I enjoy it, and then you freak out. You say that you're there for me, but you go bug-nuts when I try to talk to you. You weren't like this back in Alaska." "Neither were you," Trina replied. "I'm not saying this is a bad thing, but back in Alaska, I was kind of negligent in my duties. We weren't in any physical danger, so . . . I guess I forgot that I have a job to do. I don't know --" "Horseshit," Farmer let out in a cough. "What does that mean?" Vanesse asked. "Farmer, this is not your problem," Trina warned. "Watching you two is becoming painful, but not as much as listening to the two of you. Why the hell don't you both say what you really want to say?" "I don't know what you're talking about," Vanesse said. Trina glared holes through the pack of Farmer's head. "Don't you --" "Vanesse, Trina is in love with you. Trina, Vanesse looks at you like you're candy and she's needing a sugar rush. For fuck's sake, you two are acting like an old married couple and you haven't even been enjoying the fringe benefits." Vanesse looked startled. Jack was getting ready to prevent Trina from killing his boss and, by nature of being in a speeding vehicle, causing all of them to be seriously fucked up. But Trina felt all the blood flow out of her face and arms, effectively paralyzing her. She knew that she should immediately deny everything, but she could not get her mouth to move. She was so angry that she could not organize her thoughts enough to wreck havoc on Farmer's skull. "Trina?" Vanesse whispered, looking over at her best friend. She was waiting for the denial, but the look on Trina's face was enough. As was often the case, Trina's lack of response was all the answer she needed. "I'm . . . going . . . to kill you," Trina muttered heatedly at Farmer's head. "Maybe, but you won't do it while we're driving at seventy miles per hour while the Princess is in the car." "Trina, what . . . how . . . why --" Vanesse could not formulate a complete sentence at first. "Why didn't you say anything to me?" "Is this really a conversation you want to be having right now?" "Why? Because they're around? They already seem to know. Why could you tell them but not me?" "To be fair," interjected Farmer, "she never told me. It was just pretty fucking obvious to everyone except you." Vanesse blushed. "You should have said something," she reiterated, looking back at Trina. "There was no point. It is completely inappropriate for me to think . . . that way . . . about you." "Did you ever wonder how I felt? That maybe I felt something too?" "You've just now seen the world for the first time in fifteen years," Trina said, her voice sounding hollow in her own ears. "You're just now seeing what is out there. What's available to you. It could never be me, so what was the point of saying anything?" "Don't I get a say in this?" Vanesse wrung her hands. "Yes, I've thought about being with you. Over the last week --" "You've been caught up in the whole sexual energy thing," Trina interrupted. "You don't really feel --" "Stop right there. You don't get to tell me how I feel, or if it's real. How could you not tell me? How could you let me find out from her?" "You weren't supposed to find out, now or ever. You were supposed to find your own lovers and your own King, and I'm supposed to just make sure you stay safe. That's my role. It's what I gave my Word to do, and I can't have anything that keeps me from doing it." Trina's throat was so tight that she was having problems breathing. This was the conversation she never wanted to have, because it could never end the way she wanted it to. "I'm attracted to you," Vanesse said. "I don't know how long it's been since it was more than just appreciation. And when I saw you with Jack --" "Please, stop," Trina begged. "-- I wished it was me. That it was me that you were on top of --" "Stop!" "No! Because of you, I finally understand those cravings I used to have that my uncle tried to make me afraid of. This may be all new to me, but I like it. I like the way that I feel when I'm with Farmer, or when I was trapped between three of them. And I like the way that thinking about you makes me feel." Trina let out a laugh that was neither warm nor heartfelt. "Great. I'm in love with someone I can never have, and she's just horny." Vanesse slapped Trina. It wasn't hard enough to do any real damage, but it certainly got everyone's attention. For a moment, there was complete silence in the vehicle. What was odd was that Vanesse looked more shocked than Trina. The battle-dancer just looked hollow. She lowered her face and stared at the back of the seat in front of her. "I'm sorry, Princess," she said softly. "I was out of line." "Trina --" Vanesse stopped. Trina was not looking at her, meaning the only thing that Vanesse could see of that beautiful face was the red mark where she had been struck. She wanted to make things right. Hell, she wanted to make things go back to the way they were before the last five minutes. Then she realized that was a lie. She could never go back. But she did not have an opportunity to formulate a plan or even clear her head, because about that time, the world exploded. Up ahead, gunfire had erupted from a grove of trees and had taken the lead bikers off their seats. Motorcycles went tumbling forward in a cacophony of twisted metal on frozen asphalt. Werehyenas went flying into the snow, along the road, or into the trees. Farmer yanked the steering wheel and tore off into the trees, where the SUV came to a sudden and complete stop. "What the fuck!" she screamed into her headset. She also reached under the seat and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and a massive pistol. "Snipers in the trees, and there's a blockade up the road," someone shouted. "How many people are down?" Farmer asked as she opened the car door. ""Six. They ain't dead yet, but these guys are using silver." Farmer growled. The only reason her people were not dead was that trying to shoot a motorcyclist moving at that speed was pretty damn hard, and silver bullets really did not have the penetrating power needed, particularly at range. "I want a . . . what the fuck?!" she shouted, staring up at the sky. A helicopter had just swung overhead and, after spotting them, turned to face the vehicle. A side door opened and someone stuck a rifle out the side. "Stay down!" the werehyena shouted, diving into the trees just before a hail of bullets came down on her old position. Inside the SUV, Vanesse was screaming and had been shoved to the floor of the vehicle. A couple of bullets had struck the vehicle, but it was heavily armored and warded. In the back, Jack was rooting through a compartment in the bottom of the cargo bay, pulling weapons out and passing them around. A musty smell filled the air as the lycanthropes prepared for battle. The Best Medicine Ch. 04 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex. While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game. The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful. Proofread by "Cristalball" --------- ------------------ Farmer sat in an oppressive silence, her number-two man Jack sitting in the seat next to her as they hurtled down the highway towards Montana. Things had not gone well for her small band in the last twelve hours. Not well at all. They had been ambushed by a highly trained and well equipped band of werewolves attempting to collect a bounty that had been put on the head of Princess Vanesse Bellethial, heir to the elvish throne. While the werehyenas had not lost anyone despite multiple wounds, Vanesse's bodyguard, lifelong friend and . . . perhaps something more . . . had died. To make matters worse, she had died saving Farmer. Not that Farmer was not used to having people around who would put their hides on the line for her, but Trina . . . it should not have been her. The elvish battle-dancer had been a thing of grace and beauty, and she should have been defending her Princess. But she had put herself between Farmer and a gun loaded with silver bullets. And even if the bullet wounds had not been enough to kill her, the elvish maiden had been bitten by a vampire, then had her neck broken. Vanesse had been, and still was, an emotional train wreck. She had emptied most of her magical energy stores saving the lives of her werehyena friends (a strange word for those who had technically started out as her kidnappers), but she drained the pool dry trying to save Trina. It was to no avail. A necromancer could heal, cheat death for a while, or raise the dead as a zombie or ghoul, but no one could truly resurrect one who had gone beyond. It had taken an hour to pry the Princess away from the frozen body of her friend, and another hour to convince the elvish noble that they could not take the body with them. They were doubling up on bikes as it was, as some of their own equipment had been destroyed or damaged to the point it could not be ridden. They had lain the body of the battle-dancer in a shallow grave, dug by Jack's clawed and bloody hands, with only a small mound of stone to mark where she had fallen. Vanesse had gone into a state of near catatonia. She had not spoken since the convoy started moving again, and her eyes seemed to exist only as an outlet for tears. They certainly did not seem to see anything around them. "Jack," Farmer said at last, her voice filled with a dark and chilling rage, "I want to know who those guys were. I want to know where to find them, and I want to know ten minutes ago." "But the mission --" Farmer's eyes snapped to her right and she barked a laugh that had nothing to do with humor. "We get her to safety, then we go after them. And this time . . . oh yes, there will be blood." She grabbed one of the satellite phones, as did Alani and Jack. The lesser werehyenas would start hitting up their underworld, black market contacts in an attempt to find their attackers. Farmer had a much tougher call to make. As the phone rang, she kept one eye on the road and the other on the rear-view mirror, watching the hollow visage of her royal passenger. "Yes?" came a sleepy voice. "This is Farmer," the matriarch said, her voice still tinged with anger. "I need to speak to your . . . associate." On the other end of the line, the Alpha, the most powerful lycanthrope on the planet and therefore their representative to the Council, made a coughing sound. "You know that I can't --" "Sir, things have gone very badly, and I need to know how far he's willing to go with this." "What happened?" "We got hit. Werewolves, and a lot of them. They had hi-tech gear, access to a fuckin' helicopter, and there was a vampire with them. Female, and she was scary powerful." "The Princess?" "The Princess is alive," Farmer said, then she growled, "Trina is dead." On the other end of the line, there was silence. "I'm sorry." "Sorry doesn't cut it. They shot her in the back, then . . . Damn it, she was saving my life. I'm not letting this go." "Just get the Princess to Atlanta. Once the Council hears about this --" "Screw the Council! I'm not going to wait for these guys to try again or move operations. This isn't about Council politics or elvish politics or any of it. This just became so fucking beyond personal that I can't even describe it." "We can't have a were war right now," the Alpha said sternly. "Not with the Unveiling so close. The Council WILL side with you, but we just need time --" "Sir, this is not something that I'm discussing with you. It's something I'm telling you. I will find out who did this, and I will personally --" The Alpha's voice rose to its full power. "You still have a job to do. If you go after whoever this is without my say-so, I will consider it a challenge to my authority." Farmer's gaze was going red. "So that's the way it's going to be? You care more about politics than justice now?" She knew what he meant by 'challenge'. They had gone into an agreement, and you did NOT break an agreement with the Alpha without his consent. If she ignored his order, then it meant that she thought she was bigger and more powerful than he was. It meant that they next time that they met, it would be a fight to the death. The other werehyenas were quiet now. With their enhanced hearing, they were picking up every word, and they knew how important the next ones were going to be. The Alpha growled on the other end of the line. "There will be justice, but it will be done the right way." "Sir, she was staring in MY eyes when they shot her before the vampire . . . I'm not letting this go." Despite her intent and her rage, she did not want to challenge the Alpha. Because as strong as Farmer was, she knew that she would lose. She had seen the big man fight. He would kill her. Pride was a powerful drug though, and it was in the driver's seat. "I'm not asking you to let it go, just . . . just show a little restraint." Farmer gripped the steering wheel so hard, it started to crack. "Be in Atlanta when we get there. If I don't like what I hear, it may put a . . . crimp . . . in our relationship." "Be very, very careful," the Alpha replied, with what you say and who you say it to. I am not yours to command." "Consider it a polite request then. Just like me wanting to talk to you-know-who is a polite request." For a moment, there was silence. "I'll see what I can do. I'll call back later." The moment that Farmer put her phone down, there was a massive sigh of relief that enveloped the vehicle. "Jesus H. Christ on a crutch," Jack said. "Boss, you got a death wish?" Jack's eyes opened, then fell on Vanesse, and he wished he had not just said that. "Jack, not now," the boss hissed. "Or so help me by everything I hold sacred, I will take you to the woodshed." Alani cleared her throat. "I hate to break this up . . . okay, actually I'm just afraid to, but I think I've got a lead on the people who did this." Strangely, it was not Farmer who reacted first. Vanesse's hand, which had been lifeless just moments earlier, grabbed Alani's arm. "Who?" The elf's voice was shallow and cold. Her grip, while not strong enough to hurt the werehyena, was certainly firm enough to get her attention. "Who did this?" "Vanesse, we'll get them," Farmer said from the front seat. "I . . . want . . . to know," Vanesse started, the sound raspy and increasingly gravely, "who killed Trina. I want to know who pulled the trigger, and I want to know who paid him to do it. And I want that vampire." "You're a Princess, not a --" "What? Not a fighter? Trina was the fighter, and they killed her. She died for me . . . for you," Vanesse let out a gasp, and the tears came again. "It shouldn't have been her. Dammit, it should have been me." Farmer sighed. "No, it shouldn't have been." "I ordered her to take me back. I thought I could help." Vanesse let out a gasping sob. "She died because I wouldn't listen." "She died because some gutless fuckwad out there somewhere ordered it. Someone who wasn't thinking about what she meant to you," Farmer said, then punched the dashboard angrily. Strangely, it was Jack who spoke next. "Someone who never saw her move the way only she could. Fight the way she could. Smile the way she could." He stopped talking when Alani took his hand. "Vanesse, I've lost people before. I know what you're feeling," Farmer said. The Princess closed her eyes, but the muscles of her face clenched as if in anger. "You don't know. You have dozens of people . . . friends. I had her. For fifteen years, she was the only one I could count on. I've known . . . knew her . . . from before I even had memories. Now, I've got no one. She loved me and I never even got to figure out what that meant." Farmer felt like a total heel. If she had just kept her mouth shut and minded her own damn business, then Vanesse's last moments with her friend would not have gone they way that they had. "Losing someone, even if you have more friends around, still hurts. And you aren't going to be alone. You've got us. You've got a kingdom, and you've got a grandfather --" "Boss," Jack warned, shaking his head. "My grandfather cares more about the Council and politics than he ever cared about me," the Princess shot back. "And who told you that? Your uncle?" "He's a member of the damn Council! You really think that he could have been kept away if he wanted to talk to me?" "Did you ever ask him? Did you ever reach out?" Vanesse's heart was already caught in her throat, which might be why she could not answer right away. She had spent so much time hating the Shepherd, but how much of that had developed back before she knew about her uncle and all of his lies? The hurt started in again. She wanted to ask Trina for advice, and she couldn't. "Babe, don't break on me now," Farmer said, then realized that she needed to take a cheap shot. One that she hoped that she would eventually be forgiven for. "I need you to stand up and be the Princess that Trina thought you were." Vanesse's eyes locked on the back of Farmer's head. "Don't you dare use her memory like that." She looked out the window. Protest aside, the gambit had worked. She was not going to avenge Trina's death by crying about it. She would wallow in her grief when the job was done. But her head was having a hard time convincing her heart of anything. ---------- ---------------- That evening . . . ---------- ---------------- The Shepherd sat with his face in his hands. The Alpha sat across from him, waiting for a response. It had taken all day to track his friend down, and telling him what had happened to Trina had bee difficult. And the Shepherd took the news like he had just lost a daughter. "This is my fault," the Shepherd mumbled. All the centuries he had spent on earth seemed to have caught up with him in between breaths. "I should have just let it be. I --" "There's no way you could have known things would get this bad. I'm sorry about Trina, but she was a bodyguard. That was a risk of the life she chose." ""She never would have had to defend Vanesse if I had not interfered. Gods above, she was just a child herself." "She was fifty --" "Ten of those years were lived in poverty or slavery, and forty were spent thinking only of someone else! Vanesse . . . my son and his wife . . . they were her world. And I can't even avenge her without risking my position on the Council." He choked back his own sob and tears. "Maybe that's the way it should be. I should be held accountable --" "Okay, stop with that shit. You didn't order anyone to try and kill Vanesse. You didn't order someone to pull the trigger and shoot Trina in the back." "I might as well have." "Okay stop!" the Alpha growled, putting his hand firmly on the table. "You're beating yourself up, Farmer's beating herself up, and who knows what your granddaughter must be feeling. Right now, she is still behind enemy lines, she is still in danger, and she needs our help." Shepherd closed his eyes. "You're right. Of course, you're right. We need to bring her in." "Easier said than done. Farmer is looking to commit some serious evil, and I don't think I'll be able to get her to hold off for long. She was on the verge of challenging me if I didn't do what she wanted. And that's not a fight I want." "You'd probably win." "Some victories ain't worth the pain that would come with them. Farmer's a good woman, and our community will need her after the unveiling. But she's also prideful, and she won't let what happened go unavenged for long. She wants to talk to you." That caused the Shepherd to open his eyes. "You told her it was me?" "No, but she ain't dumb. She put two and two together quick enough. I guess that Vanesse has figured it out too." "She must hate me more than anyone." "I don't know. Neither will you unless you talk to her too." The Shepherd nodded. "And . . . and I want to find where they left the body. Trina deserves to be buried in the Great Hall underneath Stonehenge." "I'll make sure that it happens," the Alpha said, hoping that his compassion was not writing checks that reality would not be able to cash. --------- --------------- That evening . . . --------- --------------- Vanesse sat alone, perched quietly on the tailgate of the SUV, staring into space as Joker's Wild started to make their evening's accommodations more comfortable. The gang had found an abandoned lumber mill that would easily hold all of them and their bikes, and was far enough off the main road that the fires would not be seen. They had not made as good of time as Farmer wanted. She had decided to stop and acquire a number of vehicles. It had been decided that the motorcycles were just too conspicuous. Luckily, the pot trade, as well as the "odd jobs" that the gang was known for paid well, and they rarely used their money. They now had a number of old but reliable vehicles, ranging from pick-ups to SUVs, even a small recreational vehicle. The motorcycles would be left here until Joker's Wild could return for them. "She gonna be okay?" Doreen whispered into Alani's ear. "Who? Vanesse or Farmer?" the islander girl replied, a bit bitterly. "What's wrong with Farmer?" Alani clenched her hands. "She's not laughing. She's stuck between pride and responsibility. If pride wins, she has to face down the most powerful lycanthrope on the planet. If she does the responsible thing, then she'll hate herself. She respected Trina, and she holds herself responsible, despite what she told Vanesse." "But she's responsible for us all the time," Doreen said, looking at her leader who was pacing along one wall. "It's her job to protect us, just like it's our job to protect her. It shouldn't have been Trina's job." Doreen was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She was one of the youngest members of the gang, and she had never been around when they were not all laughing. Just as Alani had said, it was disconcerting. Even Jack, the most hopelessly upbeat person she had ever known, was seething with discontent. Farmer's phone rang and she answered it immediately. "Speak." "May I assume that I am speaking with Farmer?" Farmer was so tense that she could feel it in the skin on her skull. "Yeah. Yeah, this is Farmer." "This . . . this is Vanesse's grandfather. How --" "You planning to ask me how she's doing?" Farmer hissed. "How the hell do you think she's doing?" There was silence on the other end. "And what am I supposed to ask?" "I don't know. I . . . sorry about that." Farmer looked across the floor to where the Princess was sitting. Her eyes were open, but there was not anyone at home at the moment. "She's taking it hard." "I don't think that there has ever been a day where she and Trina were apart," the Shepherd replied. "And how would you know? She doesn't seem to think you had all that much interest in her life." "For five years, I had absolutely no say. Her uncle became her legal guardian, and he denied all my requests to see her until she was twenty. For the last ten years, he would not even tell me where she was until he seemed assured that she already hated me." Farmer spit on the ground. "I hate politics. I fucking hate them. And now whatever you people have going on has gotten Trina killed." "Before you throw too many stones in your glass house, don't you dare forget your own involvement in this," the Shepherd snapped back. "What was the driving force for you? Boredom or greed?" The sound of Farmer's free hand punching a hole in the wall echoed throughout the building. Everyone, including Vanesse, was staring at her. "I am well aware of my part," Farmer replied, her voice softer now that she had found an outlet for her anger. "And I will see justice served." "I know that you hate politics, and I'm sorry that I'm going to have ask you to play them a little while longer. Before you lose your temper, the end goal is to get your people and Vanesse out of harm's way and to make an example of those that killed Trina. But we have to do it intelligently." "How so? And why can't the Council just order a retaliatory strike?" "Because the Elvish King has refused to surrender jurisdiction to the Council. Seeing as it involved Elvish royalty, he has every right to do so. He does not want me to become involved in finding her for fear that I will 'corrupt' her in some way. And if Joker's Wild is officially identified as her kidnappers, then King Tarrin Ralisen will have every right to have you hunted down and killed." "You put us in this mess," Farmer growled. "I never thought things would get this bad. I did not think anyone would offer that kind of money to try and kill Vanesse. Now the manhunt has gone into overdrive." "Well what do you expect? Now let's --" Farmer stopped. Vanesse had wandered over and was staring at her. "Give me the phone." "Shepherd, it appears Vanesse wants to talk to you." The Princess took the device with a trembling hand and brought it to her head. "Vanesse, I -- Vanesse cut him off. "Trina called me Vanesse, or at least that's what I wanted her to call me. You can refer to me as Princess Vanesse Bellethial." "Van . . . Princess, are you going to be okay?" The Princess just let out a single laugh. "Don't pretend to care. You've been out of my life for a long time." "Not by choice." Vanesse covered her eyes. "She's dead. She's dead and I'm not getting her back. I want the people who did this to pay. What do I need to do?" The Best Medicine Ch. 04 "First we need to get you somewhere safe." "I'm not going to be safe anywhere! Trina was what kept me safe. I can't trust the King, I can't trust you . . . the only people I can trust are Farmer and her people. Trina was my friend, and justice for her is my responsibility." "She was your bodyguard --" "I know! I know it was her job!" "I was going to say, she was your bodyguard because your parents asked her to be. But she was your friend because of who she knew you would be. I know why you want this, Princess. I knew Trina before you were ever born." Vanesse wanted to just hate this man, but she could not do it. Suddenly, her soul was just too tired. "Tell me something about her," she whispered. "She had to hide so much from me --" Her voice trailed off, her eyes threatening to let the tears flow again. As if hearing his granddaughter's increasing distress, the Shepherd thought back to a memory that Vanesse had every right to share. "She was there the day you were born. Did you know that?" "The day she gave me her Word," Vanesse replied softly. "Mom and Dad told me." "Did they tell you what happened the first time she held you?" "I . . . I didn't know she held me at all." "Oh yes. You mother was the first to hold you of course. Mother's prerogative and all that. Then she handed you to your father, and he passed you to me. You were bawling your little pink head off the whole time. But then I handed you to Trina, and she just had this smile on her face. Said you had a good set of pipes. Said that if being Princess didn't suit you, then you still had a future as an opera singer or possibly a banshee, and she said it in this completely deadpan voice." In spite of everything, Vanesse smiled just a little. That sounded like Trina. The Shepherd continued."Then she looked down at you and gave her Word that she would always be there for you . . . always protect you. And then you stopped crying. It was as if you had been waiting the entire ten minutes of your life for her to say it, then everything was okay. For years, it absolutely confounded your mother that Trina could make you stop crying when no one or nothing else would." Vanesse thought back to the night she had first had sex. Trina had been the one there to help her try and make sense of everything. 'She stopped me from crying when I thought that maybe I had just done something wrong,' she thought. "She was so proud of how you were growing up. There were some battle-dancers who didn't think that a low-birth elf should be guarding the future of the Kingdom, but she never let it bother her. She was protecting you, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. She was the only battle-dancer in history who's Word was bigger than the Crown she served. Keeping you safe and happy was her bread and water." "Then why --" "Why not let you go rushing off without a plan? Because if you die for her memory, then her whole life will be made meaningless. Do you really want her sacrifice to have been for nothing?" And that stopped Vanesse in her proverbial tracks. The Shepherd was right. "But I need to do something." "We will, I promise you. But with everyone out trying to find you and with Farmer's group in danger of public exposure --" Something in Vanesse's mind clicked. "I need to cast a farspeak spell. Is there anyone near here that can do that? Someone that we can trust?" "Not that I can think of. Why? What are you thinking?" "I'm thinking of the first rule of elvish politics." "Which is?" "Tell the truth while lying your ass off." "I don't believe that was how it was written in your textbooks, but you've captured the basic flavor of it." "I need to be able to send a message out to all would-be rescuers to get them to leave me alone, so that the ONLY ones chasing are the ones trying to kill me. Some of them might fall off as well if they realize they won't be able to disguise their movements." "I see where you're going," the Shepherd said. "Give me a day to see if I can arrange something, like a friendly sorcerer or possibly a beacon enchantment." "You have our number now. Call tomorrow night when we've settled in." "I will. And Princess, I just wanted you to know --" "Let's just leave it there for now," Vanesse said, rubbing her eyes. "I know . . . I know you have things to say, and some are probably things I should listen to. But not right now." "Very well. I shall speak with you tomorrow." "That was uncomfortable," Farmer muttered, taking the phone away from Vanesse, then wrapping her arms around the elf's shoulders just in time for Vanesse to break down again. It had been a long time since Farmer had been a comforter. She had forgotten how emotionally taxing it was to try and console someone, including oneself, in times of loss. "How do you do it?" Vanesse sobbed into the denim of Farmer's vest. "How do you accept responsibility for all of their lives?" The tall, powerful black t-girl stroked the Princess's hair, amazed that a being thirty years old could still be so child-like. "Our kind recognizes power, which is all that is required to be a leader. To be a good leader, you have to accept that even the most inhuman of us is, in fact, human. Some will die. Some will hate you. Some may even betray you. And you have to care for all of them. Sometimes you have to hurt them. And sometimes, you just have to let them go." "What if you don't want to let them go?" "You have to. Vanesse, back when I was a doctor and working in Africa, I saw the most horrible things. I saw torture and rape and murder carried out for just about any reason you can think of, and often for no reason at all. Evil will visit the life of an innocent just as readily as the wicked. I took each death and each loss personally, and it started to eat away at me. If you let that happen, it will kill you too, and it'll jut put the burden of mourning on someone else's shoulders." Vanesse could not speak, open her eyes, or even breathe steadily. It was her thoughts that asked the question, 'But what if there is no one left to mourn you?' It was a thought that made a pain erupt behind her eyes, and she slumped against Farmer's frame. "You need to get some sleep. We'll figure out the next step in the morning." "How am I supposed to sleep?" While it made her feel like a child, she had to ask, "Who's going to look out for me now?" "I will. We all will." The headache that Vanesse had started to develop eased a bit as she was led over to a piece of floor with its own fire-drum that had been put aside for her. She lay down and pulled the blanket over her. She had not truly realized how physically and emotionally exhausting that grieving was until her head touched the rolled up coat that was acting as her pillow and she fell asleep. And just as quickly, she began to dream. There was a long stairway made of rough-hewn stone, climbing into a starless night-sky of such consuming blackness that it looked as if it were a part of the universe that had simply never been completed. A light dusting of snow had fallen onto each step, yet it did not seem cold. Rather, it was beautiful. Vanesse ran up the stairs. She was not sure why, but she needed to get to the fortress she saw at the top, where bright lights shone out from narrow windows. It would be warm there. The closer she got, the more something tickled at her ears. Music. Soft, sweet, heart-pounding, heart-stopping . . . it was perfect. It filled her soul, which she had not even realized had been so empty. The air around her was so warm, and her feet felt light. She could run forever. She could dance until the universe ended. As the top of the stairs finally entered her view, there was a robed figure, whose face was engulfed in a perfect light. The figure spun to face her with an uncanny, delicate grace. Vanesse was sure that the figure was smiling at her. That smile was acceptance. That smile was love. That smile was everything. The figure wrapped strong yet gentle arms around her, and she had never felt safer. She had run for what seemed like forever, but she was not tired. She felt sorrow, but she also felt joy. All of it was just a few feet away, past the robed figure and the glowing doorway beyond. "Home," she said, in a voice that was familiar but not quite hers. But then the figure touched her face and raised her chin so that she could look into the brilliance underneath the figure's hood. It shook its head. "This is not the place for you now." Vanesse was confused. Why was it not a place for her? "You have not truly let go," the figure continued, "Nor has she let you go. The Word binds you. It cannot be broken." Then the figure turned away and walked back towards the glowing door. Vanesse dropped to her knees. She heard the music, she could feel those inside dancing, but she was being denied? "Why?" she asked. The figure reached the door without answer, but before closing it, that not-quite-a-face looked back. "Just because I do not admit you does not mean that I do not love you." "Then what does it mean?!" "It means what it means," the figure finished, then closed the door behind it. The stone stairs vanished beneath her feet, and she found herself falling. For some reason, she did not scream. She just fell, her arms folded across her chest, and she let gravity do its bidding. Vanesse awoke to find herself standing next to the still burning fire, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Alani was standing next to her, looking concerned. "Bad . . . weird dream," Vanesse said. "I should think so," Alani replied, wiping a bit of sweat from the elf's brow. "You went really still, then you stood up and looked like you were trying to walk. I kept you from actually going anywhere." "I've never sleepwalked before in my life," the Princess whispered, slowly sitting down and giving relief to her shaking legs. "You looked like you wanted to sleep-run. Then you crossed you arms and just kind of stood there. I just covered you up again before you woke up." Vanesse felt like she had just run for hours, to the point where she actually felt that some of her magical reserves had been restored. "I don't know if I can get back to sleep," she said. "Alani --" "Yes?" "You said earlier that you think you know who did this, or at least could have. Who?" The islander girl looked nervous. "You're not going to do anything weird like go all vigilante on me, are you?" Vanesse hung her head. "What would I do even if I could get there? I don't have any offensive magic anyway." "You can't do life drains? Eye-for-an-eye spells? Nothing?" "No one ever showed me those. 'Leave war to the warriors,' is what my uncle always said. Goddess and spirits, I'm so useless." "You're not useless. Look at how fast you picked up healing," Alani replied, then wondered if she should be bringing that up. She blundered on. "Yeah, I think I know who might have done this. There's a lot of merc groups out there that use werewolves, but these guys seemed to all be wolves, except --" "Except the vampire," Vanesse whispered. "That insane, damned vampire." "Yeah. Groups that tend to mix do a lot more mixing than these guys. There's a group that calls themselves the Dark Hunt. They've been working out of Denver lately, but they're pretty mobile. Anyway, it's an all-boys, all-werewolf club, except for the rumor." "What rumor?" "That they've got a vampire working for them. Some kind of seer or something. Except that no one's ever seen her, or at least they haven't seen the description of that woman you saw. But they've got the technology and paramilitary training to pull off an attack like that, they've got the mystery vamp, and their alpha sounds like the kind of guy who could give Farmer a run for her money." "Why? Why would they do this?" "They're mercenaries," Alani reminded her. "Money is their king and queen. They look out for their own, and everyone else is just a paycheck. And these guys, the Dark Hunt, they're not dumb. They'll know that they have to take you out or relocate in a hurry. The only thing that we have going for us is that they probably don't know that you're not an unwilling captive anymore." "I can't go public then. Dammit." "What?" Vanesse curled her knees up to her chest. "If I tell the world that I'm not your prisoner, then they'll run. We may never catch them. I won't let them get away." Alani sat next to the young Princess and wrapped an arm around trembling shoulders. "You're elvish royalty. You'll have the power to hunt them down." "I don't want to send someone else after them. I want to be there." "You say that you're not a fighter, but you still want to confront the enemy. What would you do if they were right here in front of you?" "I'm not a coward," Vanesse replied defensively. "There's a difference between cowardice and realism. If being a fighter isn't your strength, then play to whatever is." The problem, at least as far as Vanesse was concerned, was that she did not know what her strengths were, or if she even had any. She settled into her blankets again and, despite earlier protestations, was able to find her way into sleep once more. This time, there were no dreams. ---------- ------------------------- Somewhere in Europe . . . ---------- ------------------------- "You called sir?" "Come in, Torris. Shut the door behind you." Baron Montain waited until they were alone. "What is the word on our little side project?" Torris sat down across from his employer. "Due to the secrecy of the money trail, we cannot get regular updates from our hunters, though I have gotten word that two groups have at least made an attempt. No one is sharing locations, since they don't want competition." "And the King?" "He obviously knows about the death bounty and he suspects that it is someone from the Court. My spies say that he is not focused on you because you were already in line to gain the Princess's hand and become King." The Baron leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. "There is still the chance that she might be captured alive. If she is, then we will call off the bounty. I won't risk exposure. Instead, I will marry her and find a way to get rid of her down the road when things have calmed down. But in the meantime, I would like for you to put an . . . extraction . . . team together," the Baron said knowingly. "If the others don't find her, then I will make sure to take good care of her." ---------- ------------------------- The next evening . . . ---------- ------------------------- Joker's Wild had made good time. They had crossed paths with a well-meaning troll who wanted to "liberate" the Princess from the werehyenas. The werehyenas had gotten a good workout subduing the would-be hero, as trolls are incredibly hard to hurt and nigh impossible to kill. They left the poor guy tied up underneath his own bridge after assuring Vanesse that "he would be just fine" and "being there when he got free would not be advisable." They had finally crossed into the United States in the upper corner of North Dakota that also bordered Minnesota, and were planning on driving through the night. Farmer was hoping to reach the border of Lord Stapleton's lands within a few days. The Shepherd had called and said that he could arrange for a farspeak spell once the Princess arrived there. It was determined that it would take almost as long to arrange a meet up somewhere in the middle, even if they could find a sorcerer they trusted who would be willing to travel. As it was, the Representative, the vampire who represented the interests of vampire in Council matters, was temporarily stationed in Atlanta and was more than capable of performing the necessary spell. Vanesse's general state of mind had stabilized a bit, though it did not take much time thinking about her lost friend before the tears would come again and the headache that seemed to accompany them. She tried to engage in small-talk with the werehyenas, but it was hard. Her mood seemed to bring the eternally amused attitude of Joker's Wild down a bit, so she tried keeping to herself. She had been transferred to the RV for the rest of the trip, so she was at least able to get comfortable. They stopped for gas in some podunk little town when Farmer came into the back. "Want anything? Snacks? Drink?" Farmer sighed when Vanesse just shook her head. "Princess, you need to keep your strength up. We still have a long way to go." "I just don't think I could keep anything down. Lunch is still sitting in my stomach. And as stupid as this sounds, this is the sort of thing that Trina would normally do. She would always ask what I wanted when it was time to order supplies. She never cared about the healthy stuff. Just --" "Just what?" "She just wanted to know what kind of chocolate I wanted. Stupid. It was always dark. She just liked making me make a decision. She never assumed that she knew what I wanted, even though she always did." Vanesse winced, closed her eyes, and touched her temples lightly with her fingers. "Headache again?" "Just brief flashes." Farmer sat behind the elf and replaced Vanesse's hands with her own. She started massaging a few points that she knew would relieve tension. "That's nice. The pain went away almost instantly," Vanesse said. "Farmer, I'm not --" "This isn't me putting the moves on. I'm not that subtle. This is me trying to help take care of you. I figure I owe Trina that." Vanesse's skin suddenly flushed, and she actually felt relaxed. 'What is going on with me?' She tried to remember what it was like when her parents had died, but it was hard. Still, she did not remember her body reacting quite like this. "Dark chocolate," she said, trying to smile. "Please?" Farmer kissed the top of her head and then headed inside. Vanesse lay down on the tacky orange couch that was a throwback to the seventies. Without warning, Vanesse's skin went cold and she heard something . . . off. She bolted upright and looked out the window. "Princess," Jack said from the driver's seat. "What's up?" "Something's coming." Jack came charging back and looked out the window. "I don't see --" He stopped and tested the air. "More elves." He grabbed his push-to-talk. "Farmer, we've got company." A moment passed before the matriarch responded. "Hostile?" "Unless someone is reenacting 'Lord of the Rings' in the woods of North Dakota in December, then I would guess so." Jack looked at Vanesse. "Elves don't like cold, right? That's why Fairbanks was a good place to hide you?" "We're not fans of it, no. Mostly, we don't like the snow." "How the hell did you --" Farmer poked her head in the RV. "Stay put. Alani, Bud, and Ace are coming with me. Doreen, go make sure the clerk doesn't come outside and doesn't see anything." The blond sighed, unzipped her vest until her breasts were practically begging to fall out, and headed inside. "The things I do for this club." "What should I do?" Vanesse asked. "Stay put and listen to Jack," Farmer said. Seeing the Princess's face fall, she changed her tune a bit. "Protecting our only healer is just good tactics. Honestly, you might want to consider doing some push-ups or something to get your energy flowing." Vanesse nodded, visibly relieved that she had something to actually do. She took the push-up suggestion literally, pushing her body as hard as she could. For several minutes, they did not hear anything. Then Farmer called in. "These guys are just leading us in circles. I think they're just a distraction. Keep your eyes peeled back there," she added. The Best Medicine Ch. 04 That was when those in the RV heard a commotion from inside the gas station's convenience store. Doreen was screaming, and there was the sound of breaking glass. Jack heard it and rushed outside with the other werehyenas, warning Vanesse to stay put. Vanesse did not want to hide. She was tired of these people putting themselves on the line for her. She moved towards the door, but the flash of pain behind her eyes returned with a vengeance and actually caused her to stumble and sit down. "I'm not going to be a coward anymore," she said, a little more firmly. Then she stood up. The pain had gone, though she was feeling a little woozy. She moved towards the door one more time, but stopped when the door opened and a masked-figure dressed in green stepped inside. It was one of the Elvish Royal Hunters. "Princess," the man said softly but firmly, "we are here to rescue you. Please follow me." The man looked confused when Vanesse shook her head. "Don't want to go," she said, taking another unsteady step forward. "They've drugged her," the Hunter said to someone standing behind him. "They'll pay for --" "No, not drugged," Vanesse said, though she was having problems convincing herself. Her body did not seem to want to move quite properly. "Just . . . these people did not kidnap me. They --" She wobbled a bit. "-- rescued me." "Grab her," came a second voice, "and quickly! We can't keep those vermin distracted forever." "I'm sorry Princess, but we have to go now," the first Hunter said, grabbing her wrist and yanking her toward the outside. "No!" she shouted, planting her feet. "I don't want to --" Someone clamped a cloth over the Princess's mouth. "I'm sorry your highness," came a murky voice, "but we can't have you --" Vanesse did not hear the rest, as her body went limp in her new captor's arms. Farmer erupted from the forest just in time to see a car screech to a halt and a small group of masked figures were dragging an unconscious Vanesse towards the back seat. She let out a set of barks to communicate to the whole pack, bringing them back to the parking area. Then, she saw Vanesse's head come up. What happened next was more than a bit . . . unnerving. Vanesse's limp body seemed to come alive. The Princess snapped her head back, breaking the nose of the man holding her with a rather audible "crunch." She spun out of his grasp, ducked, did a leg sweep that sent him plummeting to the ground in a less than dignified fashion. Farmer was dumbstruck for one of the few times in recent memory. 'When the hell did she learn that?' she thought. She moved forward to help, but she might as well have just pulled up a lawn chair and taken a nap. The Princess grabbed a cloth from her captor's hand before he ever hit the ground. She raised up and shoved it into a second captor's face while simultaneously launching a snap kick at a third Hunter's midsection. When the third Hunter bent over after having the wind kicked out of him, Vanesse snapped her heel up and caught him in the face with it. The second Hunter had gone to lullaby land, so Vanesse dropped him and shoved the chemical-filled cloth into a fourth Hunter's face while wrapping her arms around him in a sleeper hold. She jumped up, still holding onto Hunter four, and mule-kicked Hunter One again for good measure. "What the hell?!" Alani said as she emerged from the convenience store. They had subdued a "customer" who had turned out to be a bounty hunter in disguise, and she had come out to rescue to the Princess, only to find the Princess really did not seem to need anyone's help. "That's . . . that's not possible," Jack whispered. "What?" Alani asked. "She's fighting with her eyes closed." Alani looked closer and found her comrade's assessment to be correct. "And --" "She's fighting like --." "That's not --" "I know." But possible or not, Jack could not take his eyes off the sweet, curvaceous woman with white-blonde hair who he had never seen move like that . . . well, move like that. It only took another few seconds for Vanesse to finish off her rescuers, leaving her standing on a pile of unconscious Royal Hunters. Then she just stood there. Her body started to waiver a little bit, even as Farmer approached. "Vanesse? Are you okay?" The Princess's face was mostly still, and her eyes remained closed, but her mouth was moving. It made a few odd shapes, then a sound came out. The sound started as a gurgling hiss, and then -- "Catch me," were the only words uttered before the Princess's legs gave out and gravity overcame her. ----------- ------------------ In another place . . . ----------- ------------------ Vanesse was dreaming again. At least, she was fairly certain that she was dreaming. She was sitting in a garden that she vaguely remembered. Well, vaguely at first. Then she realized that it was one of the courtyard gardens at the Battle-Dancer Academy. She had gone to visit Trina shortly after her first sexual encounter, when she had needed someone to talk to and she was afraid to tell her parents. Trina had sat next to her and teased her about her insecurities until Vanesse had succumbed and smiled. The Princess turned her head, only to see her best friend there next to her. Even in her dream, tears welled up in the corners of Vanesse's eyes. "I miss you," she said, her voice carrying through the warm air. Those sounds were almost tangible here, and she could see them tickling Trina's ears. "I know," the memory of Trina replied. "But you shouldn't. I'm not so far gone." "I wanted to die. I saw you lying in the snow and I just wanted . . . I don't know." "It's okay. You know the one thing I never wanted was to make you unhappy." "You didn't," Vanesse said, quickly getting on her knees and laying her head in Trina's lap. "Even when you were aggravating me, usually on purpose, you always made things better. I can't do this without you." Trina stroked Vanesse's hair. "You don't have to. I gave you my Word that I would always look after you. Did you think dying would stop me?" Vanesse looked up. "But you're gone. We buried you in the snow." "I know," Trina said again. "Jack dug the grave. That was nice of him. Could you tell him that?" "Yes, I can tell him. I . . . I wish I could make things easier. That I HAD made things easier for them. For him. He liked you. He respected you." "I liked him to." Vanesse grasped one of her friend's hands. "I need to say something," she started hurriedly. "I thought I'd never get a chance to tell you how I felt. About you, about what you said." "Vanesse, you don't have to --" "I do! I'm sorry I didn't say anything after Farmer told me that . . .you know --" "That I loved you?" Trina replied. Even in the dream, her voice carried both a nervousness and a fondness that was unmistakable. "I was never going to tell you, you know. It was not my place to love a Princess. But I did, and if anyone were to tell you, I wish that it had been me." "Why isn't it your place?" "Because I can never be with you. It would have clouded my judgment. And besides," Trina said, looking away, "what would I have done when you rejected me? I don't think I could have handled how you would have looked at me." "Why do you think I would have rejected you?" "Because in fifteen years, you never once looked at me that way." "For fifteen years, I was told that even thinking about that sort of thing was improper. Dirty. But I did, you know. I would see you training in the gym or running laps, and I would think about how amazing you looked. Then I would guilt myself into a frenzy for thinking such things." "You shouldn't feel guilt. You just shouldn't--" "Don't tell me I shouldn't see you like that. You said that you loved me, but the reason I didn't say anything back was because I don't know how to express what I feel. I desired you back when I thought I wasn't supposed to desire anyone. You meant more to me than anyone else. I just didn't know what that meant. Was it love? Maybe, maybe not, but it did mean something." Trina looked back. "Yeah, it did." Vanesse wanted to scream. "And now you're gone, and the only one I can tell this too is my fucking dream." "When did you start cussing?" Trina said stoically. "It's really unbecoming of a Princess." She touched Vanesse's face. "And I'm not a dream. True, I'm IN your dream --" "What? You're not making sense." Trina suddenly looked completely and totally ashamed. "He didn't let me in." "Who didn't let you in? Where?" "The Dancer in White. He denied me entrance into the Great Hall." That floored Vanesse. The Great Hall was the battle-dancer's version of an afterlife, where those who fell in guardianship or after a lifetime of doing their duty were allowed to finally dance for themselves. Trina had once explained, against her instructor's intent, that it was a place where they could finally just be selfish. They would listen to the sweetest music ever played and dance with their brethren. In the Great Hall, the wine was all sweet, the food was exquisite, and the company could be as sensual and sexual as you wanted it to be. No one was alone there, and partners were not only for dancing. And it was the Dancer in White that looked over everyone, the embodiment of the music that they all danced to. "Why would . . . that was YOUR dream?" she asked, eyes wide. "Last night?" Trina looked pained. "You saw my ascension. You saw my rejection. Somehow I failed. So I fell, and wound up here. In you." Vanesse's mouth fell open. "Wait, so you're . . . not dead?" "I don't know what I am. I just know that I woke up and could see what you saw and could feel what you felt. The Princess's brain was gong a mile a minute. "That was you! The headaches and the weird feelings. You were trying to communicate with me." Trina sighed. "Yeah. I can't seem to talk to you directly when you're awake, and last night I was too disoriented myself. I didn't even know what to tell you. So while you slept, I just sort of looked around and tried to figure out how you worked." "How I worked? Wait, you were snooping around in my brain?" Vanesse felt her skin growing hot. "I stayed away from your memories and private thoughts. Strangely, it's pretty easy to see what you consider private. I realized though that I could actually make you move. I had you sit up a few times overnight just to check. I practiced flexing some of your muscles." "That's why I actually felt energized this morning, isn't it? You were exercising my body?" "I think so. Then you got knocked out, so I took over. I hope you're not too angry at me about that." "I got knocked out?" "Elvish Royal Hunters? This ringing any bells?" "That really happened? And you took control of my body?" "Yes. You'll be fine. You just need to sleep off whatever it is that they dosed you with." "You didn't hurt them, did you?" "No. Well, a little, but no one got killed. They weren't going for the kill, so I think that Joker's Wild showed some restraint." Vanesse felt her dream heart pounding. "So . . . you're still with me?" "Yeah. I guess. I just wish I knew what I did wrong. Why won't they let me in?" "I don't think he rejected you. It sounded like he . . . the guy that I saw was the Dancer in White?" "Yes." "I don't think that was a 'No.' I think it was a 'Not yet.' Maybe he just realized that I still needed you." "But I've never heard of this happening! I'm not the first battle-dancer to die and leave the one she was guarding behind. It's kind of our job." "Well, our relationship has never been exactly normal." That got a smile out of Trina. "No, it really hasn't." That was when it hit Vanesse like a full grown moose. "Trina, I'm still not sure that this is real, but --" "But what?" "But if it is, or even if I'm just imagining it, there's something I need to do." "Which is?" The Princess grabbed Trina's shirt and drew her face close to her battle-dancer's. "I want to be with you. Even if it's only in my dreams." "No, we can't . . . Vanesse, this can't be undone. I'm in your mind now." "You're in my heart. Whatever that means, you're there. And I don't want this to be undone." Vanesse didn't give her friend a chance to object. She just pushed her lips against Trina's and started to kiss. Trina's body out-and-out betrayed her. Vanesse was just so soft, and her lips were inviting. She felt a tingling all over, which was odd since she did not technically even have a body. Her friend was much more aggressive than she imagined she might be. Maybe the Princess did really know what she wanted. Or maybe -- "What?" Vanesse asked huskily when Trina pulled away. "How do I know that this isn't just you being thankful I'm still alive? Well, less dead than expected anyway." Vanesse furrowed her eyebrows. "You don't believe me?" Trina's chest heaved. "I want to. I just --" The Princess covered the battle-dancer's mouth with a finger. "Do you want to see?" "See what?" "What I really think when I look at you?" Trina opened her mouth to object, but then Vanesse started to conjure up memories. She saw . . . no, she felt what Vanesse had been feeling when she watched Jack and Trina together. She saw glimpse of herself through the Princess's eyes, working out, showering, or even just cracking a rare smile. There was fondness there. Maybe even the beginnings of love, but certainly more than just friendship. Then the fantasies hit. The two of them in an enormous bed with red satin sheets, with Trina gripping Vanesse's hair and kissing her by firelight. Vanesse's body pressed against the wall of a truck-stop shower while her best friend ravished her with strong, lethal fingers. Trina dressed in -- Trina actually chuckled a bit, causing Vanesse to blush. "Where did you get THAT outfit from? That armor is completely impractical." "It was in a magazine at a gas station. I think it was called 'Heavy Metal,' though I'm not sure what that meant." "The fantasies all seem . . . new." Vanesse nodded. "I always felt . . . things . . . for you. But it wasn't until we escaped and you and Farmer and Lillian made me realize that thinking about sex was okay . . . well, those feelings started to make sense. And I started to elaborate on them. A bit." Trina was more surprised than she would have guessed possible. She had been pining for someone who she assumed she could not have and would never think of her "that way," but Vanesse's thoughts went far beyond simple curiosity. "Did you ever, you know, think about me? Like that?" Vanesse asked. "Every day for ten years. I remember exactly what day it started. You had gone swimming in that ridiculous heated pool that you had them build just to see if they could do it, and then you were laying on the warming rock. The only thing between you and the world was a towel, and it just barely covered you. You were smiling and talking about someday resurrecting Milton Snavely Hershey to personally thank him for his contributions to bettering the world." "I still say that's worth trying." "He'd be a zombie. I seriously doubt he would even be able to grasp the concept of chocolate at that point. But you were just so happy and so beautiful and so damn sexy," Trina said, her voice hushed but heated. Vanesse smiled, and her brain activated that memory. She was now lying on that very rock, with nothing but a towel between her and Trina's prying eyes. She lay her face on warm stone and watched what Trina did next. And she felt the heart in her other-world body thump a little louder when Trina's clothes began to dissolve by act of will, breaking apart and drifting away like golden flecks of dust on an imaginary breeze. Vanesse gazed upon the athletic, lean body that she had often looked at but had never truly seen. Never truly appreciated. And it was good. Trina, on the other hand, had seen and imagined Vanesse's gorgeous curves in any number of compromising positions, but she still wanted to see more. She lay down on her side next to her friend, never breaking eye contact. She slowly peeled the towel down until it slid to the ground and left Trina's hand stroking the soft skin of the Princess's royal derriere. Vanesse felt like she was on fire. Her body was aching with desires she had no name for, and Trina had barely touched her. "Kiss me," she whispered. Trina smiled so widely she thought her face might break. "Say that again." The Princess grinned shyly, but she rose to the challenge. "Kiss me." The battle-dancer's lips touched those of the girl who would be Queen someday. Vanesse's mouth was untrained yet eager, and Trina had so much she wanted to do with it. Lips caressed one another, tongues danced, and breathing became harder. "Again," Vanesse whispered after taking a moment to catch her breath. "Again" was becoming one of her favorite words. Trina was more than happy to oblige, but this time she added a little something extra. As her mouth touched Vanesse's, her hand slid down past the buttocks, between the girl's legs, and she touched the wetness that lay between. And the gasp that Vanesse released into Trina's mouth was the sweetest air the battle-dancer had ever breathed. She moved so that more of her weight was draped over the Princess's body, and pressed her a finger into her friend's sex, withdrawing it just as she pushed another one in. She started to alternate in a scissor-like motion, and also rained kisses down on the side and back of Vanesse's neck. Vanesse's head was spinning like a carousel, unable to regain her equilibrium but having little desire to. She liked this. It was so strange to be having this moment completely within her dream, yet being with someone who might very well drive her out of her mind. She groaned as her pussy was teased mercilessly, she sighed when Trina pushed her hair away and kissed the nape of her neck, and she gasped some more when the battle-dancers hard nipples pressed into Vanesse's side. There were so many things that Trina wanted to do with her friend, but there was one thing she wanted more than the rest, and that was to be staring straight into those beautiful, rose-colored eyes when she climaxed by Trina's hand. So she started kissing her way back around Vanesse's neck and along her jaw, until finally the Princess had to turn her head a little so that their lips could meet again. That was when the battle-dancer "made her move," so to speak, sinking her thumb into Vanesse's depths and rubbing the girl's clit with her fingertips. "Ah ah ah," Vanesse said in a series of short breaths and sparks began to decorate her vision. When it came to sex, Trina was so different here than the werehyenas had been. Farmer and her brood were barbarians, forceful and powerful and delightful in their own way. But Trina was more like a fencer, with every movement elegant and purposeful and straight to the point. And she tortured Vanesse ever so wonderfully until -- "Trina, I . . ." "Look at me, your Highness," the battle-dancer said. "Please." It was not a difficult request to meet, at least in theory. Trina looked so excited to be doing what she was doing. But keeping her eyes open once the orgasm hit . . . Well, that was when things got more difficult. She was pretty sure that her eyes had rolled all the way back in her head, but damn it they stayed open! "Oh my," the Princess said at last. "You just . . . I mean I just . . . damn!" "You took the words right out of my mouth." "Not yet." Vanesse took the lead this time, kissing Trina until she lost her breath. "Wait," she said, scrunching her eyebrows. "This is in my head. Why do I keep having breathing problems?" Trina laughed. "Probably because you think you're supposed to. It's why we look like ourselves and talk like ourselves. We're just as much 'ourselves' here as we are out there. Well, as much as you are out there anyway." The Best Medicine Ch. 04 Vanesse turned onto her back and pulled Trina on top of her. She planted feathery kisses on Trina's lips and cheeks, and ran her hands down the woman's athletic back. Trina took everything in stride, matching kiss for kiss and caress for caress. Her hands cupped her lover's large breasts, pushing the nipples north and more readily available to her hungry mouth. 'Lover,' she thought. She had just actually referred to Vanesse as her lover. "What are you thinking?" the Princess asked as her breasts were lovingly teased with an amazingly talented tongue. "How grateful I am for second chances," Trina replied. Vanesse was beaming, her smile lighting up every corner of the fantasy world she had created in her mind. "Can I see you on top of me? Like you were with Jack?" Trina nodded, sitting up and straddling Vanesse's hips. She raised herself up and put Vanesse's hand between her thighs. "Now just curl the fingers," she instructed, then sank down with Vanesse's fingers inside her. "So how's the view?" Vanesse actually blushed. It was her own head and her own fantasy, and Trina had made her blush. Because her best friend was beautiful and sexy, and because Vanesse couldn't think of a thing to say. Trina threw her head back, her long brown hair flowing like a cloud behind her, and it was long enough that it could tickle Vanesse's legs when the battle-dancer turned her head just right. The battle-dancer's eyes were drawn back to her companion's full bosom, complete with its soft, pink nipples that looked back at her with a certain wickedness. She leaned forward and took one into her mouth, but switched to the other so it would not feel left out. "I wanna taste you," Vanesse cooed, stroking Trina's head as the woman ravished her breasts. "Soon," came the amused reply. "Gotta learn to crawl before you walk." "I know how to crawl!" Trina kissed Vanesse's lips. "I know. Seems like being on your knees is getting easier for you." Vanesse felt a blush overcome her dream body. "Is that --" "It's wonderful. I'm happy that you're feeling more comfortable with yourself. And I have to admit, thinking about you on those knees sucking off Farmer and her crew," Trina breathed heatedly, "is kind of a turn-on." Vanesse grinned. "So you . . . you know, want to watch? Next time?" The very notion of Trina being the voyeur for the Princess's exhibitionism made her skin tingle. Trina started riding Vanesse's hand harder. "If you haven't noticed," she gasped, "I don't like taking my eyes off of you for ANY reason." "I want you to watch me," Vanesse said. "Always." Trina hid her face in her hair for just a moment. She did not want her friend to see the slight blush play across her skin. It was not exactly a grand offer of eternal love, but it meant something. Trina's face revealed itself again as she climaxed, but her own look of wonder failed to match Vanesse, who seemed to be orgasming again. Without so much as a touch from Trina. Neither woman had much mental capacity available to process it, as they both rode their respective waves of pleasure until Trina collapsed, leaving their two bodies rubbing against each other. "What the hell just happened?" Trina whispered into Vanesse's ear, then took a moment to nibble on it. "You're the expert. You tell me. Damn, that feels good," the Princess muttered back. "There's lots of places on your body that can get you going, and I'm going to make sure you know where each and every one of them is." "I'm just interested in one of them right now, and you promised me I could have it." Trina grabbed Vanesse's bottom lip with her teeth, pressing lightly together before releasing and granting another soft kiss. "I did say you could taste me, and I always keep my Word." She stood up and walked toward Vanesse's head, letting her hand trail along every curve of the Princess's body. She knelt on either side of Vanesse's head, then lay her own body down on top. "Think you can keep up, your Highness?" "I can take anything that you can . . . sweet spirits!" In other words, no. Vanesse could not keep up. Not even close. Trina's tongue was everywhere at once, penetrating Vanesse's sex like a snake going into a burrow. "Well Princess?" Trina joked, flicking her tongue at the sensitive nub peeking out from under its hood. "You said you could take it?" "I did. I just didn't say I could do anything abow-wow-wow-tit! Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Vanesse gasped, with one of Trina's fingers touching a spot inside Vanesse's body that was doing some pretty spectacular things to her ability to process information. Or form complete sentences. "I did have some practice while waiting for you to turn into a total babe," Trina replied between licks. "Pluh-ease stop!" Trina kissed those wet nether lips again. "Why?" "Because I can't think when you're doing that and I ah ah ah!" Vanesse should have known not to admit "weakness" to Trina. The battle-dancer had the upper hand and was planning on keeping it. Her tongue was inside Vanesse's body, where it had apparently made itself comfortable and had no intention of leaving. Vanesse did try, but it took so much mental energy to tear her attention away from what was going on between her thighs that she made very little headway. So she just gripped Trina's ass with the grip of a woman hanging on for dear life, gave Trina's pussy the occasional deep lick, and just let the battle-dancer do her thing, so to speak. Trina removed her tongue, pushing her finger into Vanesse's slot and feeling around for that magical little spot that would make the Princess forget all her troubles. "What . . . what are you . . . there!" Vanesse yelped. "How are you doing that?" "G-spot. I'll tell you how to find it." "Please do." "See, just follow the vaginal wall until you find a --" "Ah!" Trina licked Vanesse's clitoris again. "See, if you're going to keep interrupting, then I'll never --" "Ah!" "-- get around to telling you how to --" Vanesse's back arched and she shoved her sex against Trina's hand and mouth. She climaxed so hard that she thought she might lose consciousness. Except that she was already unconscious. Weird that. Trina lifted a leg so that she could see Vanesse's face, and was somewhat taken aback by what she saw. "Princess, you're glowing." "Well that was a pretty amazing --" "No, you're ACTUALLY glowing!" Vanesse worked her hand into her view. Her skin was radiant, healthy and full of life, and did indeed seem to be giving off a little more light than usual. "What the heck?" Trina removed herself from the sixty-nine and knelt next to her friend. "How are you feeling?" The Princess just smiled. "Amazing. Now it's my turn to make you feel this way." She pushed Trina onto her back and then pushed those long, athletic legs apart. "Now you are GOING to tell me how you did whatever it was that you did." "Princess --" "And would you PLEASE stop calling me Princess! Don't make me order you." Trina raised an eyebrow. "Now your Highness, I really don't think that . . . okay, you've talked me into it." Vanesse had begun her own exploration of that beautiful garden between Trina's thighs, and had begun trying to replicate Trina's oral attentions. "Not so fast," Trina murmured. "This is for pleasure, not for racing." "Says the girl who won," Vanesse muttered, then pulled Trina gently open using her thumbs, allowing her tongue to get in a little deeper. Her friend was wetter than she had thought she would be, though why she should have thought otherwise escaped her. She just knew that she enjoyed this. Trina had been given so few things to be happy about in her far too short life, but Vanesse was determined to be one of them. "Okay, so you're a quick study," Trina said happily. "But can you . . . okay, I guess you can." The Princess had begun to improvise, finding the spots on Trina's body that got the best reaction and then spending more time on them. She was careful not to focus exclusively on the clit, which she imagined would have been a bit of overkill. Her tongue was her primary tool, as her fingers were digging into the tight ass flesh that she had often admired. "Trina --" "Oh don't you dare stop to talk!" the battle-dancer interjected, writhing like a snake as she felt an orgasm building. "It can wait." Vanesse went all out, trying to share a bit of the magic that Trina had brought into her life. Every ripple of taut muscle, every sigh, and every moan let the Princess know that she was close to her goal. Then, Trina climaxed. And once again, without being touched, Vanesse had an orgasm as well. "What the hell?" Vanesse muttered, then stopped to kiss the inside of the Trina's thigh. "Seems like the hostess gets bonus orgasm points," Trina chuckled. Then she pursed her eyes. "Maybe that's it? In your mind, we both feel what we are supposed to feel, but you're the only one here with a body. It's reacting for both of us." "That's--" Vanesse stopped as the world began to blur. "Trina, what's going on?" Trina looked less than alarmed. "You're waking up." "I don't want to! I want to stay here with you!" Trina leaned in, her face the only thing left in the dream world that was not fading. She kissed her best friend on the mouth. "I don't know how long this is going to last, but I don't think I was sent back for one night, however amazing. You have things to do in that other world, but I'll wait for you in this one. And I WILL look after you." For some reason, that seemed to make everything all right in Vanesse's shifting, turbulent world. "Vanesse? Princess? Farmer, I think that she's --" "-- waking up! Oh holy hell girl, you scared the living crap out of us!" Vanesse opened her eyes. She felt like she'd been run over by a full-grown moose, but she also felt incredibly energized. "What . . . why did you wake me up?" she muttered, more than a little disoriented. Farmer moved into the Princess's shaky vision. "You gave us a bit of a fright," the werehyena said, looking quite relieved. "You got captured, due to someone's faulty judgement," she added, glancing at Jack, who in turn looked quite chagrined, "and then got knocked out. Then --" "Then what?" "Then you single-handedly knocked out five people with your eyes closed before collapsing. We brought you on the RV and started moving again, but then you started to . . . well, you started moaning. And cumming. A lot." Vanesse blushed. "You stood there and watched me? You know, get off?" "Well it was kind of hard to avoid. Sweetcheeks, our noses are pretty sensitive. You've gone everyone so riled up that I had to stop being the driver and come back here just to make sure no one got any ideas. Now, would you mind explaining just what the hell happened back there?" Vanesse did something that surprised the werehyenas. She smiled. She just threw herself back onto the cheap RV bed and grinned like an idiot. "I had the most amazing dream --" She paused when she felt her abdomen clench a little, almost as if she was laughing. 'No, not me,' she thought. Then she realized that it had all been real. Trina was laughing at her, using her own body. "Are you --" Farmer started to ask again, then was surprised when Trina launched herself from the bed and hugged the matriarch of Joker's Wild. "She's not gone," she whispered, her voice and eyes caught up with joyous tears. "She didn't leave me." Five minutes later, Vanesse had relayed her conversation with Trina to her compatriots, though she left out the more amorous parts. Based on the chuckling feeling emanating from her own body, Vanesse realized that Trina found her sudden shyness to be quite amusing. "So you have the spirit of a not-quite-dead battle-dancer living in your dreams?" Farmer asked at last. "You don't believe me?" Farmer sighed. "No, actually I do." Jack nodded. "There's no way you could've pulled those kung-fu moves off. No offense, but hand-to-hand combat isn't exactly your thing. I'd know Trina's moves anywhere." Vanesse grinned as she felt her body feel a bit flush. Jack had been fascinated by Trina, and the battle-dancer found it all just a little flattering. "Is this normal?" Farmer asked. "Battle-dancers so enraptured with their charges that they possess them afterward?" "I've never heard of it." Vanesse scrunched her eyes. "Trina? A headache for 'Yes, I've heard of this' or . . . uhm, upset stomach for 'This is weird, even for me'." Everyone just stared at her. The Princess chuckled. "I think she liked the options." Then she gripped her stomach lightly. "Nope, I don't think she knows of anything like this." "Okay, that's the weirdest form of communication I've ever seen," Jack said. "It's like a biological magic eight-ball. Clever though." Farmer locked her fingers behind her head and then cradled her skull in her palms. "So what does this mean? How long is she in there? What --" "I don't know," Vanesse interrupted. "I just don't know. But I know someone who might. Can I borrow a phone?" Farmer grabbed the phone from her belt, then hesitated. "Vanesse, I'm not sure we should tell anyone else. If word gets out that Trina was killed, then her being not-quite-killed is a major bonus for you." "But Lillian is one of the good guys. Isn't she?" "She's one of Stapleton's, which means that I'm more likely to trust her, but can't it wait until we get to Atlanta?" "But I STOP THAT!" Vanesse had touched her temples mid-sentence when a small throb of pain hit her. "Okay, okay! I won't tell anyone. Yet." The pain receded. "We have GOT to work on a better system of cues. Okay, maybe I did suggest the headache, but still! How about . . . Trina what are you --" Farmer was alarmed, but only temporarily. She saw Vanesse double over and then sink to her knees, her whole body beginning to shake. But when the Princess raised her face, it was obvious that pain was NOT what she was experiencing. "Oh . . . you . . . BITCH!" Vanesse cried as another orgasm wracked her already tired body. She was blushing, but smiling as well. "Can I assume that something ELSE has changed since Trina got back?" Farmer asked knowingly. "You . . . could (gasp) say that again." Farmer grinned, tipped Vanesse's head up by putting a finger under her chin, kissed the girl and said, "Pass that on. Tell Trina I'm kind of happy to see she's okay." "She can (gasp) hear you, but thanks," Vanesse said, wiping the sweat off her brow. "Anyone got some chocolate or some donuts? Suddenly, I'm starving. And could I get a change of underwear?" ---------- ----------- Elsewhere . . . ---------- ----------- Torris stepped off the plane, headed through security, and fell into step with the group of elvish hunters that were waiting for him in the waiting area of Lambert St. Louis International Airport. "How many have you assembled?" Torris asked. The Baron Montain had moved quickly to make sure that his chief assassin would have everything he needed, though Torris was under strict orders not to tell anyone else of his true mission. Let the others do as the King had commanded. Torris would make sure the Princess did not survive. "Twenty, sir," the lead hunter replied. "We pulled everyone back off the West coast to help in the hunt. The Princess was spotted in North Dakota, but the pursuit team was incapacitated." "Incapacitated?" "Yes. None of the hunters were seriously harmed. One of them reported that --" "What?" Torris asked angrily. "That the Princess resisted being rescued." This was what the Baron had been afraid of, making Torris's job that much clearer. "Her captors have obviously done something to her to make her more suggestible." "But sir --" "Listen . . . what was your name again?" "Hunter Tulek." "It is a common thing for captives to become enraptured with their captor. It will make the retrieval of the Princess more complicated." "Yes sir. And there was no sign of the battle-dancer," Tulek said, his voice bitterly cold. "So either she was being restrained somehow, she had been left somewhere, or --" "If a battle-dancer were still alive, she would be tracking her charge across the face of the world. We should assume that the Princess no longer has such protection." This actually bothered Torris a bit. He had started his career as Baron Montain's battle-dancer, and that fraternity of guardians had a special respect for one another. Lady Trina Cresole would have died doing her duty, and she would be remembered well for it. She could not possibly be blamed for the flighty, weak nature of the woman she was sworn to protect. Tulek simply nodded. "Yes sir. The kidnappers seem to be headed south-southeast from North Dakota, but they aren't following traditional routes, and they don't seem to be stopping." Torris scowled. It probably looked like he was angry that the Princess had been taken, but he was actually annoyed about the notion of the Princess making it to the lands of Lord Stapleton. The Lord of Atlanta was easily one of the most powerful lords, or even vampires for that matter, in the world, and he had been given extra resources to help deal with the care of the resurrected Greater Dragons. If the Princess found safe haven there, then there would be no way to kill her, and the future of the elves would be placed in the hands of a spineless woman. "We have feelers out for any route that they might take," Tulek said, and we're in a good position to intercept if her Highness is spotted coming this way." "I have his Majesty's permission to access additional funds to hire more mercenaries to watch the roads. I will personally lead the next rescue attempt. We cannot afford any further mistakes." ----------- -------------- In Denver . . . ----------- -------------- Abraham Holmes was not happy. He had put a silver bullet through the skull of the werewolf who had fired on the caravan too early. Now, he needed to come up with a plan. Natasha had indicated from her "visions" that the Princess was being taken to Georgia, which was not a place that Holmes wanted her to be. Taking on the elves were one thing: assassinations and intrigue were part of their game. Taking on Shane Stapleton, his house and the Council were something else. "Sir," Christopher Knight said, "we have another problem." Holmes looked at his second like he had sprouted a second head. "Another problem?" "Yes sir. Natasha is . . . well, she went catatonic for about ten minutes. When she came around, she ate a pizza delivery guy and now she's babbling about 'the Lazarus woman' and how someone 'should not be.' I think she's completely flipped this time." "You think that every time." Abraham stood up and grabbed his gun, checking to make sure it was fully loaded. "Joker's Wild isn't going to be making any mistakes now, and they're not going to slow down. Find out where they are, and have a strike team ready within the hour. If the Princess escapes to Lord Stapleton's lands and calls in the Council, then there's not many places in the world we'll be able to operate from. But just in case --" "I've got a plane chartered for Mexico already, loaded with everything we'll need to start over." "Good man. Now get Natasha ready for another casting. We can't afford another mistake." ---------- ------------------------- To be continued . . . The Best Medicine Ch. 05 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex. While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game. The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful. Proofread by "Cristalball" --------- ------------------ The members of Joker's Wild had made good time, and were well into Tennessee when the woman they had been protecting held Farmer's satellite phone in her hand, nervously staring at the keypad. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Farmer asked. Vanesse nodded. "I don't want to go blundering into his territory with all this on our heels, and he might be able to help. I'm tired of this, and the sooner we get to safety, the sooner that I can figure out what's going on with Trina and the sooner I can avenge what happened to her." Her eyes rolled skyward, then back to Farmer. "Okay," she said sarcastically, "the sooner that we can get around to it. Trina's being a bit bitchy." The Princess winced. "Okay, stop with the headaches! We talked about this." Farmer chuckled. Vanesse's conversations with herself were becoming increasingly fun to watch, especially when Trina made the Princess aroused or even climactic. Being possessed by your best friend, newly appointed lover, and personal bodyguard was not easy. Farmer handed over the satellite phone, which was already ringing. "Hello? Is this my mysterious, untrained necromancer?" came a familiar voice. "How many untrained necromancers do you know?" Vanesse asked. "And if you say 'Including you? One,' then save it. Even I've heard that one before." Well if you're going to steal all my best material, what can I do for you?" "Lillian, I need to come clean with you. About me." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Has something happened?" It didn't take much for Vanesse to bring a few tears to her eyes, thinking about how Trina had looked broken and bleeding in the snow. "My friend . . . the one who was wounded? She was killed." "I'm so sorry," Lillian replied. "What happened?" "We were attacked by bounty hunters, except they weren't trying to rescue me. They were trying to kill me." Vanesse paused, and a calm feeling came over her. Trina was trying to give her a boost. "My name is Princess Vanesse Bellethial, heir to the elvish throne. I am requesting sanctuary in the lands of your lord, Lord Shane Stapleton." "I'm sure you'll understand my skepticism, but can you prove that you're the Princess? We've had a great many --" "Lillian, you know it's me. You've probably suspected since day one." "Yes, but there's a difference between ME knowing, and Lord Stapleton being able to take action." Vanesse wracked her brain, trying to come up with some way of convincing someone she had never met that she was who she claimed to be. In the meantime, she explained her situation. "I was living up in Alaska, where I was captured. I was rescued by Farmer, the alpha matriarch of Joker's Wild." "I've heard of her. Is that the woman who called me the first time?" "Yes." Vanesse covered the phone and looked at the werehyena. "She's heard of you." "Who hasn't? I rock!" Vanesse rolled her eyes, then talked into the phone again. "We could not go public that I had been rescued, because there were already bounties out to have me killed rather than captured. But yesterday, my battle-dancer was killed . . . Trina was killed by a bunch of werewolves with guns and a helicopter and some insane damn vampire who bit her and then broke her --" Despite the knowledge that Trina was somewhat safe inside her mind, Vanesse let out a sob. She hated thinking about what happened. "Vanesse," Lillian said soothingly, "I believe you. Lord Stapleton is going to need some kind of proof, though. Is there anything you can give me that could help?" A memory flashed across Vanesse's mind, but it was not one of her own. She was looking through someone else's eyes at Vanesse's mother, who lay in bed holding a bawling infant and looking as proud as an elf could look. The person who's gaze she was sharing looked over at Vanesse's father and grandfather, who stood nearby with looks of joy on their noble faces. The Queen held up her daughter and handed her to the King, who cradled the child and professed love and adoration to the little pink creature. Then Vanesse's grandfather, the Shepherd took a newborn Vanesse and stared into her eyes, commenting about how feisty she was. He smiled like a grandfather should, and for a moment Vanesse did not resent him for his absence. He had loved her. Then, he handed her to a pair of arms attached to the woman who's vision she shared. Trina. The Prince listened to a firm, young voice give the new Princess her Word that she would always protect her. Vanesse was smiling, then realized that she had not spoken for quite some time. "The Shepherd," she blurted. "If Lord Stapleton could get a hold of him, he could pass on a message that would confirm it was me." "Which is?" "Tell him that on the day I was born, Trina gave her word to me. He'll understand, and he's the only one left alive who would. Please hurry." Vanesse rattled off the directions that they were taking, just in case something happened. Lillian promised to look into it, then they hung up. "Nice story you told her," Farmer said. "About us rescuing you and all." "You have to understand elvish politics. Technically, nothing I said was a lie." Alani looked over, obviously puzzled. "How so?" "Well, I was captured, but I consider my time in Alaska as my captivity, with my uncle acting as the warden. You did rescue me from that captivity, and the part about not being able to go public with what happened out of fear for my life was true." "Remind me never to get involved in elvish politics," Farmer said, feigning a headache of her own. "It sounds positively confusing." "That's my life," Vanesse said, her voice wistful and soft. "They didn't teach me how to help people, but I know how to lie. And someday, I'll be the Queen of the liars." "You don't sound all that happy about it," Farmer said, placing her hands on Vanesse's shoulders. Vanesse tried to smile, but it died halfway up her face. "I envy you a bit. Yeah, you have responsibilities, but you always seem to be having fun. You love your life." "Yes, yes I do. But there have been some rough spots. I've lost more than a few gang-members, gotten into some damn ugly fights, and woken up next to some men and women that made me wonder what the hell I was thinkin' or drinkin'. You know what always helps?" Vanesse shook her head. "I find something to laugh about. Elves lie, vamps drink blood, wolves hunt . . . hyenas laugh. Because if any given moment is gonna be my last, I don't want to spend it crying." Vanesse wiped her eyes. "I just don't see very much as being funny these days. You'd think maybe I could. I mean, my best friend in the universe is alive and living in my cerebral cortex, but --" She stopped when her body began to fidget. Trina was getting uncomfortable. "Stop it!" she told thin air, then grimaced. "I wish we just had telepathy or something." "You'll work something out. So you've got a second chance with Trina, in more ways than one. You've got a kick-ass, hotter-than-hell escort all the way to Atlanta, so what's not to smile about?" Vanesse sat down. "Farmer, what if I don't WANT to be Queen?" That one stunned Trina into no long messing with Vanesse's body. Farmer's face scrunched up a bit. "Huh? Why wouldn't you want to be Queen? Isn't that what this is all about?" "Yes, and that's the point! My parents were killed because they were the King and Queen. I'm being hunted by people who want to 'save' me or kill me, all because of this stupid game that my uncle, my grandfather, and someone else are playing. With my life! Trina died . . . she died and now has to share my body instead of having her own life, all because of these horrible elvish political games. My whole life was a shadow of what it should have been before you showed up and rescued me, and it was because . . . dammit," she finished, unable to vocalize her frustration. She felt a warmth in her chest and some tension ease from her muscles as Trina worked from within her to calm her down. Make her happy. "Do you want your uncle to be King?" the werehyena asked. "No. And that's the trap. The elvish people get someone in my uncle who really doesn't care about most of them, or me, who isn't fit to lead a parade, much less a kingdom." She raised her hand to ward off an objection. "It's true. My uncle taught me to lie, not to lead. And I just let him." "You have what? Twenty years before you're supposed to take the throne? You have time to learn. You've got time to go find out what your people really need." "And what if it turns out they need a stronger monarch than I can be?" Farmer cocked her head. "I think you're underestimating yourself. But if the time comes and for whatever reason you don't think it's what you want . . . well, cross that bridge when you come to it." Then a random thought crossed her mind. "Hey, when this all blows over, you're welcome to ride with us for a while." Jack's and Alani's eyes shot open, and Doreen almost ran the RV off of the road. "What?!" they all said at once. Vanesse blushed. "I'm flattered, but it doesn't seem like I'd be all that welcome." "Oh, that's not it," Jack said quickly. "It's . . . uhm --" "What Captain Eloquent here is trying to say is that we've just never had a non-hyena ride with us before," Alani explained. "I've never even heard the boss offer." Vanesse was staring at her Walmart shoes. "I . . . thanks, but I don't want to be a bother. I mean, what would I contribute? My background in drug sales and distribution is about as thin as my experience in . . . well, everything else." "Not quite everything," Farmer said soothingly, putting a finger under Vanesse's chin. "You've shown quite a talent for the healing aspects of your necromancy and, more importantly, how to build energy for it." The Princess's heart was threatening to break out of her substantial chest, and her skin felt hot enough to cook on. "You're not seriously suggesting that I act as your personal . . . you know." "Slut?" Farmer asked with a grin. "Actually, you'd be the gang's slut. It'd be rude to keep a fine thing like you from the boys. You seem to enjoy it and, on one of my rare serious notes, we could show you a lot more of the real world than you could have imagined in your little Alaskan hideaway." Vanesse was wondering where all of Trina's biological cues were during this. Surely her battle-dancer would be outraged at the prospect. 'Besides,' she thought, 'this is a ridiculous idea anyway. I'm a princess, damn it! That's not what princesses do.' "Boss," Doreen called from the front, "Ace just signaled that it might be a good time to stop and get some grub. It's been a while, and --" Farmer was barely paying attention. She was too busy enjoying the feeling of Vanesse's body pressed up against her, those large tits and bright eyes competing for Farmer's attention. "Boss? Anyone home?" Farmer growled, but was pleased that Vanesse gave her a shy grin. 'She really doesn't understand how hot she is,' the werehyena matriarch thought. "Fine. Where are we anyway?" "Just north of Tennessee. Even shifting drivers and sleeping in shifts, the boys are exhausted." "Find a place a stop." The caravan pulled into an all-night diner attached to a truck stop. The gang would take turns, some eating while the others watched out for would-be threats. And like in the wild, the matriarch got to eat first, along with her inner circle, Vanesse, and a handful of guys who took up surrounding tables. Vanesse was still unused to "road" food, though she was assured by all the werehyenas that it was not representative of normal cuisine. The Princess thought that to be unfortunate, because the grilled-cheese sandwich and accompanying fries were heavenly. And the chocolate pie that acted as dessert required seconds, all by itself. And Vanesse spent time listening as the members of Joker's Wild as they talked. They were an interesting mixture of personalities. Some, like Farmer, Alani, and Ace were all highly educated, whereas Jack had never gone to college, Doreen was a high-school dropout, and Bud had actually done some serious jail time before his twin-brother had bailed him out and helped get his head on straight. But despite the easy, jovial camaraderie, there was not doubt as to who was in charge. No one, except Vanesse, had started eating until Farmer had. They talked about ways to expand their drug business or pick up new transport work, but all ideas were flowed by the matriarch. They respected her, they liked her, but the pack still feared Farmer, at least a little. Vanesse was not sure how much of that was simple werehyena culture and how much of it was Farmer herself, but it was a very clear dynamic. After thinking about elvish politics and the fine art of lying, Vanesse found the werehyena style of government surprisingly refreshing. At least it was honest. "Hey boss!" Bud said from over near a jukebox that had probably been around since before Vanesse was born, "Guess what?!" Vanesse had seen Farmer angry, amused, thoughtful, and horny, but she had never seen the look that now played across those strong, ebony features. It was a bastardized cross-breeding of fear and chagrin that was almost comical. "You've got to be kidding!" she said, almost choking on her coffee as she attempted to move towards the machine that filled her with an unholy dread. But the other werehyenas seemed to be quite intentionally blocking her path. "What's going on?" Vanesse asked as her new protector tried to force her way through a crowd of bikers. Alani was laughing too hard to respond, so Jack had to speak up. "Remember when I told you that Farmer lost a bet where she said she could go a whole week without starting a fight?" "Yes. She lost it after three days, right?" "Yep. And you're about to see her pay up." Bud had finished inserting sufficient coinage and had just hit the button before Farmer finally reached him. "Sing it! Sing it!" the crowd of bikers chanted, as some of those outside came in as word of the impending "event" spread. Farmer clenched her teeth, rolled her eyes, then tilted her head back and started to sing. Badly. Very, very badly. "Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth? Ooh heaven is a place on earth They say in heaven love comes first We'll make heaven a place on earth Ooh heaven is a place on earth!" There is a place caught midway between horror and hilarity, and that's where Vanesse found herself. Farmer's singing voice was so atrocious but she used it with such energy that the Princess found herself grinning like an idiot. "She has to sing along with that song anytime we hear it playing," Jack said between chuckles. "She never should have admitted that she loved Belinda Carlisle. Well, she should never admit that and then lose a bet anyway." Most of the rest of the restaurant patrons were just staring or laughing, while the wait staff was looking amused and perplexed. Farmer kept right on going until the last note, then promptly threw Bud out the front door and onto his ass. "And stay out!" she growled, then went and sat back down. The surrounding werehyenas were stifling laughs now, and their boss glared at each of them in turn. Only Vanesse was not sufficiently cowed. "I'm more of a Bangles girl myself," the Princess said smugly. "Oh just shut up," Farmer replied, sinking petulantly into her seat. "I still say that the Go-Go's were vastly under-appreciated." "Of course they were," the Princess said, patting Farmer's hand and then offering her a french fry. Another werehyena came in, and he looked less than amused. "We got a problem." "What is it Bam-Bam?" "Scout car called in. We've got a line of unmarked black SUVs heading this way." Farmer was suddenly all business. "Everybody out. Let's move this block party away from the civilians." "Where the hell are we going?" Alani asked, throwing a wad of twenty dollar bills onto the table before following the others outside. "We ain't gonna outrun 'em, that's for sure. At least not for long," the matriarch grumbled, looking at the bulky RV. "I don't want a gunfight while we're trapped in this thing. We make a run south and see if we can block up the road somehow. Put a flaming car on the highway and then call it in. That should slow pursuit down until we get to Nashville, and they won't try anything there. But when we get onto the other side --" "We'll be ready, boss," Jack said. Farmer clapped him on the shoulder. "I know. And I need you to do something. Don't let the Princess out of your sight." The caravan picked up speed, hurtling forward like hell was on its heels. Vanesse watched the faces of her protectors, and it made her uncomfortable. They wanted to stay and fight. They were proud, and they were strong, and they were being forced to run from a foe that they thought they could take. But they were putting aside their primal natures to defend her. She just hoped it did not kill them like it had -- "Stop with the headaches already!" she murmured, as Trina made her displeasure with Vanesse's guilt trip known via a sharp pain right behind the eyes. "I can feel guilty if I want to, damn it!" She looked a bit sheepish as she noticed Jack staring at her. "What?" "You know, you're two of the weirdest 'woman' that I've ever met. You're lucky that you're both sexy, smart, and funny." Vanesse raised her eyebrow. "Trina's rolling her eyes at you." "How can you tell?" "I know her." In response, Vanesse got a smug sense of satisfaction. "Hey, the next time that you're unconscious, can I have sex with Trina?" The Princess's jaw dropped, and her skin grew warm. "You're serious?!" "Yeah, it'd be like a threesome all at once!" Vanesse closed her mouth, then she smirked. "Why not?" That elicited an alarming increase in her heart rate as Trina started poking biological buttons again. "Hey, you want to watch ME having sex," Vanesse told her battle-dancer brain guest, "so I want to watch you too." "I never thought that a girl with multiple personalities could be so hot," Jack said. "You've always found Farmer attractive," Alani pointed out. "And she's completely insane." From the driver's seat, Farmer raised her hand like she was going to protest, then lowered it. Alani was technically correct. They stopped long enough to turn one of the trail cars over and light it on fire during a section of road that was under construction, which would slow their pursuers down for a while. They managed it just in time, as the line of black SUVs pulled up before Joker's Wild was completely out of sight. Some gunshots came their way, but nothing impacted. At least this time, they did not seem to have -- The Best Medicine Ch. 05 "Helicopter!" Farmer shouted into her radio as a spotlight strafed the highway. "Where the fuck do they get those things?" She paused, then continued, "And why can't I have one?" "Have you ever heard of a helicopter gang?" Alani asked. "That would just be silly." "Good point. Werehyenas on two wheels is much more logical." A bullet-hole appeared in the roof of the RV as someone up above opened fire. Jack threw the Princess onto the ground and covered her with his body. "Getting a little fresh?" Vanesse asked, her heart pounding. "Never let it be said that I can't perform under pressure," Jack replied. He glanced at Alani, who was grabbing an AK-47 from under the seat and heading towards the roof hatch at the back of the vehicle. The islander girl popped the hatch and braced herself, feet on the ladder. "Say hello to my little friend!" she shouted and let a torrent of lead loose on the offending rotary craft. Vanesse's eyes shot towards the ceiling. "She's up there," the elf growled angrily. "That bitch! I can sense her!" Up above, Natasha was fidgeting in the seat next to Abraham Holmes. He had never seen her acting nervous before, and it was creepier than her normal behavior. It was almost . . . well, human. "The Lazarus woman sees with empty eyes," the vampire was whispering. "She should not be. She went were the dark folk go, and she followed them back from the void." Christopher Knight did not have the patience to try and unravel what the blood-sucker was babbling about. He was seeing too many lights on the horizon. "Sir, we've got to kill them and we've got to do it now. They get much closer to the city, and the risk of exposure is --" "I am aware of the dangers," Abraham said calmly. Everything about this mission felt off to him, but he was not going to back down now. He grabbed a string of grenades from the box at his feet. "There will be no missing this time." He had to hold on for a moment as the chopper banked to avoid the hail of gunfire erupting from the roof of the RV. "That's the target," he growled, pulling a pin and hurling the spherical ball of death outward. The chop of the rotors caught it and blew it wildly off course, the explosion occurring off the side of the road. "Pull further in front," Christopher yelled at their pilot. Then he looked at his alpha and said, "Just drop the whole line on them. Nothing is gonna survive that." Abraham nodded, the same idea having just occurred to him. He ran a line through the pins, waited until they were right over the road, then he yanked the line and dropped a dozen grenades all at once. And then, every vehicle on the road began to peel off through the fields. "Damn it!" he screamed. Down below, Farmer was attempting to successfully drive the metal behemoth across a field of tilled farmland. "Did they really think that I was just going to drive into their trap?" she muttered quizzically. "Oh fuck." This last was said as she realized that she was bearing straight into an embankment that was much bigger than the RV. Farmer tried breaking, but she still hit the wall of dirt with enough force that everyone and everything in the vehicle went flying forward. The werehyenas were tough enough that they would be all right, but Vanesse's head connected with the RV's tiny table with a sickening crack. "Vanesse!" Alani shouted, crawling over the wreckage to get to the elf. Much to her relief, Vanesse was moving and moaning. She was alive, but she was obviously not in good shape. Farmer sat up, shook her head, then started to move towards the door. Her radio, amazingly still intact, started to squawk static. "Alani, get the Princess and get her out of here. We need to make a break for the tree line," the matriarch said, then turned the dial on the radio. "Guys, we need some protection. Those pursuers aren't so far away that they can't run over here, and that chopper has us pinned down." Even then, she heard the heavy thumping of air battering gravity into submission. She kicked the door open, grabbed a rifle from the pile of trash, then stepped outside and opened fire on the helicopter. "Why doesn't that bitch just die?" Abraham asked angrily as he watched the survivors stumble out of the RV and head towards the woods, the Princess cradled in one set of arms. "Everyone, get ready to open --" "Fire," Natasha muttered, her voice suddenly very clear, and very afraid. "Yes, that's what I was going to --" Abraham watched in complete astonishment as his vampire seeress hurled herself out of a moving helicopter forty feet above the ground. Then the werewolf alpha's gaze snapped up as he saw something moving through the sky. Out there was something even darker than the night that surrounded it, and it was not alone. "Abandon ship!" he yelled, jumping out and hurtling towards the ground at a dangerous speed. "What the hell is --" Christopher said, just in time for him to see what had scared his boss enough to jump. "By the Gods," was the last thing that the Dark Hunt's second in command would ever utter in his lifetime. The helicopter was devoured by a ball of fire that rivaled the sun, at least in the eyes of those who bathed in its light. A number of the werewolf pursuit vehicles had managed to get past the road block and now, with wide eyes, they looked up at the darkness and saw a monster. Flapping mighty wings, a reptilian figure easily forty feet long hovered thirty yards away from the screeching helicopter, spouting flame from the tooth-ringed maw that protruded from underneath glowing green eyes. The world around the creature seemed to be moving in slow motion, waiting patiently for the monster . . . for the dragon . . . to finish cleansing the sky of its enemy. But when Farmer looked towards the sky, she saw something even more frightening, and much, much larger, floating in the blackness beyond the green dragon, the burning helicopter, and the fiery wreckage that had begun to rain down on them all. "Farmer!" Jack screamed, stumbling backward with a still-groggy Vanesse in his arms. The werehyena matriarch looked down just in time to block a clawed arm from taking her throat out. The same werewolf that she had fought before had morphed into his half-form and was attempting to finish what he had started days earlier. Alani and Doreen both morphed and engaged other werewolves that were attempting to flee the fiery fiend that flew overhead. "Get her out of here!" Farmer shouted over her shoulder, putting some distance between her and her adversary so that she could morph to half-form. She took a couple of hard swipes before the transformation was complete, but she was used to changing in a hurry. But Jack was not getting very far. A blur of darkness swept by and claws raked across his face, blood spraying and bone breaking as he was flung halfway across the field. Vanesse was sent tumbling towards the base of a tree, and only Alani's quick thinking kept her from impacting. "I can still taste her," Natasha whispered, staring with an unholy desire towards the elf's still form. "I can still see the pretty doll behind the glass eyes." "Psychotic bitch," Alani muttered, moving towards the woods only to have the vampire appear between the werehyena and relative safety. "Give them to me," Natasha said. "I need to finish her. She should not be." "Look who's talking." Alani was looking around desperately for some help. She could not fight this thing and protect Vanesse at the same time. But Farmer was busy, Jack was down and out, and Doreen -- "Leave her alone, bitch!" the blonde werehyena screamed as she nailed the vampire across the back with a heavy stick. "Way to --" Alani's support was cut off as the vampire spun, ripped Doreen open from gut to throat, then turned around before the young werehyena even had a chance to blink. Alani backed up, helpless in her horror as she watched the youngest member of Joker's Wild trying to keep her intestines from spilling out. But she did not have much chance to fear for Doreen, as the vampire was coming for her now. Vanesse struggled as much as she could to get out of Alani's arms, even as Trina struggled to take control of Vanesse's body. Pain lanced through the Princess's head as the battle-dancer screamed and shouted from the bottom of her friend's psyche to get out . . . to protect Vanesse one more time. "No," Vanesse whispered, pulled on her magical reservoir to give herself some strength, and then quickly rolled out of Alani's hands. She was tired. She was tried of running and being scared, and she was tired of everyone around her suffering while she whimpered helplessly. "Princess?!" Alani shouted in surprise, moving to grab the elf and attempt to flee again. She made the classical blunder of taking her eyes off of the enemy for just a moment, and she paid for it when the vampire pounced and rammed her head into a rock with a grotesque thump. Natasha stood up and watched bemusedly as her quarry crawled towards the blonde werehyena who was still bleeding from the gaping wound in the front of her body. The elf reached forward to touch the dying lycanthrope, but the vampire grabbed her by the ankle and lifted her off the ground as if she were no heavier than a kitten. "Bad elf," the vampire cooed, feeling more confident. The elf was hers to play with. The two alpha weres were off beating each other into oblivion, so she should have a moment alone before the sky lizards came . . . before the living shadow noticed her. "I killed you. I drank of your life, then made sure you had none. You don't belong here," she hissed. Vanesse realized that she was not truly the target of this monster's attention. The vampire wanted Trina. Somehow, it knew that Trina was still alive. Sort of. Vanesse tiredness was suddenly and inexplicably replaced. By anger. "Leave her alone!" she shouted. She was not sure why, but she was more concerned about Trina than her own safety. And the nausea in the pit of her stomach indicated that the battle-dancer was not happy about that. "I cannot," the vampire replied. "She broke the way of things. Rivers of time and karma have changed their courses. There are too many possibilities now. It makes it hurt to see." "What are you talking about?" "She should not be. She cannot be kept in the light world by the power of an utterance, but she has not gone. She had stolen the secrets of my kind. I must steal them back." Vanesse swung wildly, but she would not have wounded this creature even if she had managed to hit. She was not a fighter. She was just a spoiled little princess who got people killed. A memory flashed before her eyes, then another, and another. Memories of her training, studying, thinking -- 'I'm not a "nothing",' she thought, accepting the thoughts that Trina was pushing forward. 'I'm a necromancer. And this bitch is dead.' Natasha grabbed Vanesse by the front of her sweatshirt and spun her around so that they were now face to face. "I wonder if it is your blood that I will taste, or hers? Regardless, you will not be coming . . . AURGH!" The vampire screamed in pain when Princess Vanesse Bellethial uttered a few simply words and proceeded to power-dump directly into the vampire's face. It was a horribly dangerous maneuver, but Vanesse was not going to go down without a fight. She had never cast this spell, but she knew that it was a holdover from the days when necromancers and the undead did not have as cordial of relationships as they did in this day in age. Pure necromancer energy . . . the energy of life and death . . . could be fatal to a creature caught between the world of light and the ever dark. Creatures just like this one. But Natasha was not young, and she was powerful. She hurled the Princess away, then staggered forward again. She had not been hurt like that in as long as she could remember. She hated it. She hated the one who caused it. "I will drain your blood and your tears and your screams until there is nothing left but your husk," she snarled, standing over Vanesse's bruised body, which was turning over with great pain on the cold, churned earth. Vanesse wondered if this was how Trina felt before she had died. Hurt, frightened, hopeless . . . 'No,' she thought. 'Trina was stronger that this.' Even as she thought it, the battle-dancer was hurling herself against Vanesse's mental defenses, trying to get out. 'Trying to get out.' The thought blasted into Vanesse's vision like a comment. She had an idea. Could it work? Trina was always the strong one. It was time to use her strength. Natasha expected begging or pleading, and she was definitely expecting screams. She was not expecting for an elvish princess to lunge at her and bite her. Vanesse tasted blood. It was not much, but it would be enough. It had to be. Even as her enemy yanked her away, she began to focus energy. Not her energy, but Trina's. "Did you like your last taste?" the vampire asked. "Blood for blood," the Princess snarled. "You took something from me. From her. I'm taking it back." With that, Vanesse unleashed a second power-dump. The vampire, already weakened, looked shocked as a glowing white light emerged from the Princess's eyes and mouth and struck the undead straight in the face. Natasha finally got her screams. Unfortunately for her, they were her own. Abraham Holmes was not more than twenty yards away when he heard the most horrific thing that had ever assailed his ears in his entire life. He turned to see that his would-be victim was holding onto Natasha's head, but both their faces were obscured by a brilliant light. "What the OOF!" In his moment of distraction, the werewolf had gotten kicked hard in the gut by an exhausted werehyena. Farmer wanted him dead, and she wanted to go see if her friends were still alive. But she was so very, very tired from her skirmish. "It would have been good to be on the same side," Abraham growled, pulling his emergency pistol out of its ankle holster and pointing it at his adversary. "You're a good soldier. Too bad it has to --" A massive paw came down and squashed Abraham Holmes, crushing him like a grape. Farmer gaped. She looked up and saw that the darkness had come for the werewolf mercenary, and it came in the form of a dragon. The creature before her was as massive as a greyhound bus in the body, not to mention the wings that seemed to reach all the way to the horizons, and a tail that flowed behind the mighty beast like a stream. And it was so very, very black. Smoke seeped out from beneath the monster's scales, wafting into the great open above. The neck was long and thick, and that head was adorned with a massive pair of jaws and eyes that sucked the light out of the air nearby. It was horrible. It was frightening. It was beautiful. It was a dragon. Then a figure slid off of the dragon's back, then another and another. One of them, a beautiful red-haired woman, strode towards Farmer. "Where is the Princess?" the woman asked quickly. She did not sound hostile, but she was certainly all business. It took every bit of willpower Farmer possessed to pull her eyes away from the dragon. The animal part of her was screaming at her to run like hell, because as strong as she was, the dragon was the apex predator here. "Who the hell are you?" "My name is Lillian. I'm from --" "Crap, you're from Stapleton's crew?" Farmer looked around. "Vanesse?!" she shouted, then took off with a pronounced limp towards where she had just seen the Princess. "She was fighting the damn vampire!" Lillian rushed to keep up, with two rather imposing black men falling in beside her. Both men were dressed in body armor so advanced it made the werewolves' gear look like toys, and each was carrying enough firepower to down a revolution in a Central American country. Farmer looked back briefly and saw that the werehyenas had moved out of the field of battle, allowing the two dragons to finish mopping-up the werewolf presence. Then she hurried over to the scene. "Doreen!" she shouted as soon as she saw her young pack-mate, blood gurgling from her mouth and from just about everywhere else. "Tried," the blond girl said through bubbles of sticky red liquid. "I tried to save her . . . like you would have --" Doreen's gaze was glassing over. A werehyena could survive a lot, but with as much blood as she'd lost, she was a goner. "The Princess is stable," Lillian said, looking around. "Bangaly, Reaper, keep your eyes peeled. You," she said, pointing at the werehyena matriarch, "You're Farmer, right? Which one . . . oh Lady of Death," she said, noticing the ravaged form cradled in Farmer's arms. She moved over with speed and purpose. "I need you to hold her while I close up the wounds. Damn, this is not the place for surgery. I need --" "What? What do you need?" "I need to stitch her up first, and I don't --" Lillian stopped talking, taken aback when Farmer furiously let out a string of laughing barks. Immediately, several werehyena's got up from watching the dragons hunting and headed toward the ruins of the RV. "Keep her stable," Farmer said. "I'll do the butcher work." Lillian did not argue. She just poured enough energy into her patient to keep the vital systems operating while the werehyenas went about satisfying their alpha's commands. One of them came over with a reinforced box, after which Farmer started to pull out her medical gear. "Bit more than your regular first aid kit," Lillian muttered, but kept on healing as the werehyena matriarch did what she could to close up the hole in her young friend's chest. More and more hyenas began to gather around, giving their power and support to their leader and their youngest. Lillian was surprised to see the young blonde's chest steady and her vitals stabilize much faster than even a lycanthrope's normally would. "Stay with us little one," Farmer said soothingly. Then she saw Jack crawling over, his face suffering from some deep gashes, but nothing life threatening. He was hauling Alani with him. The islander girl was not moving. "Is she --" "She's alive, but she got her noggin thumped pretty hard." "Can you --" Lillian raised her hand. "I'll do what I can." Farmer nodded. "Glad you got here when you did." The redhead smiled. "As the Princess suggested, I already had guessed her identity. Lord Stapleton gave the go ahead to come up and start looking for you as soon as I told him, and her identity was confirmed by the Shepherd while we were on our way. It was smart for the Princess to tell us what route you were taking. Luckily, the Greater Dragons move a little faster than you would expect." The werehyenas all looked towards the sky. The smaller of the two dragons was swooping across the field, then suddenly stopped and pounced on a werewolf who was attempting to take refuge in a bush. The mighty beast jumped up and down, smashing the hapless werewolf repeatedly against the ground. The way that it was toying with what would normally be a vicious opponent made it almost look like -- "Don't compare him to a kitten," Lillian said with a smirk. "Aodh hates being compared to anything cute, especially if it's cute and fluffy." "Aodh?" "That's his name," the redheaded necromancer said. "And THAT," she started to say as a dark shape floated to the ground, "is Shamira. Better known to the magical world as Shadow Wing." Shadow Wing was massive in a way that did not truly translate from the rules of modern physics. The great black dragon seemed to take up far more space than mortal eyes thought it should, to the point where staring at it too long gave the viewer a sense of claustrophobia. Smoke seeped out from underneath its scales, and darkness radiated from its eyes. It was darker than the night around it, a living, breathing, killing shadow. The Best Medicine Ch. 05 As Shadow Wing landed, the smaller dragon, Aodh, immediately took a subservient pose, head bowed and body below that of the larger beast. After a moment, the two dragons' eyes met, then Aodh started looking around frantically. Shadow Wing let out a puff of smoke, rolled its eyes, then looked at Aodh's feet. The smaller dragon looked quizzically at its larger counterpart, then lifted its front foot. There, it found the remains of the werewolf it had stepped on earlier. Farmer was grinning and on the verge of laughing as the smaller dragon started shaking its foot, much like it was trying to get a piece of gum off of its shoe. Finally, it scraped the bloody corpse off using a tree. Shadow Wing stared at Aodh, then looked around the field. The younger dragon nodded enthusiastically, then began to march in a circle around the clearing while Shadow Wing headed over towards Farmer and company. Halfway there, Shadow Wing began to transform, smoke pouring out from its very core. When the smoke cleared, a muscular, gorgeous, and wholly naked woman stood where the dragon had just been. "I swear, that boy would lose his head if it wasn't attached," the woman was muttering as she arrived at Farmer's location. "He's a good kid," Lillian scolded the newcomer. "He does his best, and it might not hurt to remind him of that." She motioned to the werehyena. "Shamira, this is Farmer, leader of the Joker's Wild hyena pack. Farmer, this is Shamira." Shamira nodded, crossing her powerful arms over her enormous chest. "Nice to meet you, all things considering." Farmer returned the nod, a little dumbfounded as to what to say. "You're a dragon." "You've rendered another one in total awe," Lillian chuckled. The muscular woman actually looked flustered . . . almost embarrassed. "So, where's this Princess we came to rescue?" "She's unconscious, but otherwise appears unharmed. We have three werehyenas to patch up, but this is the only one who had life-threatening wounds. We can patch everyone else back together once we get to Savannah." "Savannah? I thought you guys were based out of Atlanta." "Normally, yes. But security is tighter at Banshee's territory down in Savannah thanks to the Greater Dragons, so Lord Stapleton thought it would be better to take the Princess there. The Representative is already down there, and the Alpha and Shepherd are on their way." "Well, this is gonna be a party," Farmer muttered. "So . . . you're a dragon?" Shamira through her arms up in the air. "Yes, I'm a dragon. Living incarnation of Shadow Wing, yaddah yaddah yaddah. Can we just move past that part?" "No," Reaper said. "Unlikely," Bangaly added. "You're joking, right?" Farmer said. "You're a fucking dragon! A big one! That's . . . that's gotta be the coolest thing I've ever seen." "It is rather impressive," Lillian added, standing and giving Shamira a peck on the cheek. "She's hot!" Jack said, his hand covering the scars on his face. "Well, at least now we know he's okay. He's oggling," Farmer said. Then she glanced at the Princess. "Speaking of subjects of his affection, I wonder why --" She stopped, glancing at Lillian. Currently, no one outside the caravan knew that Trina was still alive. And why hadn't Trina taken over Vanesse's body? Vanesse's eyes opened. "Did we win?" she gasped. "Groan." Farmer looked over to the source of the noise, and her blood froze. The vampire! She had completely forgotten about the blood-sucking fiend, and now the bitch was awake! With a snarl, Farmer lunged across the earth, closing in. As soon as the vamp opened her eyes, the werehyena punched straight between them. The being who had caused them all so much heartache went flying back in an undignified clump, crashing and rolling in the dirt. "Wait!" Vanesse screamed, but her voice was drowned out my Farmer's anger. "Uhm, should we be interfering or helping?" Shamira asked. Lillian nodded. "That's the vampire that the Representative warned us about. They've been looking for her for centuries." Farmer leaped up and came down with claws extended, intent on taking the vampire's head clean off. But those dark, sultry eyes were opened and . . . confused. The would-be victim rolled backwards, getting out of the way just in the nick of time. "I think the boss is claiming this fight," Jack said. "She --" "Stop her!" Vanesse bellowed. "That's not who you think it is!" "Princess, I'm not sure what you're talking about. I --" Vanesse recognized the voice, but not the face. "Lillian? What are you . . . that's not the vampire!" Farmer was drawing on every ounce of primal rage at her disposal, to the point where she was knocking over trees to get at a vampire who seemed to be retreating without actually going anywhere. "Don't hurt her!" Vanesse screamed again, then went charging after the fight. "Princess!" everyone shouted at once as they gave chase. All except Shamira, who just shook her head. "It was supposed to be my weekend off," she grumbled, then started to change back to her dragon form. Farmer grabbed a log that most people could not even lift and swung it at her adversary. The vampire ducked, then seemed to find her voice. "What the fuck are you doing, you insane mongrel?! Do not MAKE me kick your ass again!" Farmer swung down, causing her vampire opponent to cartwheel somewhat gracefully out of the way. "It wasn't me you fought last time," she growled. "It's not me you jumped from behind and --" "What are you (duck) talking about? Did someone (dodge) put some bad shrooms on your pizza? If you hurt Vanesse's body, I'm going to beat you so bad, even your mama won't love you." That made Farmer pause for just a moment. "Vanesse's . . . Trina?!" "Of course it's Trina, you half-wit! Who else would be possessing Vanesse's body?" "That's . . . not Vanesse's body." "Of course it is," the vampire said, then looked down. "Though I don't remember Vanesse wearing . . . when did she dye her hair black?" Vanesse stumbled between the two of them, throwing her hands up to protect the vampire. "Princess, get away from her!" Lillian shouted when she arrived, cutting off Vanesse's explanation. "That's Natasha Baranova, a very old and very dangerous vampire! She's completely insane and --" It was Lillian's turn to be confused, when the would-be villain jumped in front of Vanesse and took a defensive stance. "Where?" the vampire said, looking around. "I don't hear anything." "If you would just let me explain --" Vanesse started to say, then was interrupted again when the remainder of Joker's Wild, along with Lillian's bodyguards and a pair of full-sized dragons arrived. "Duh . . . dragon!" Vanesse said, staring at the sky, then subsequently fainted. "Princess!" the vampire said, moving faster than the eye could follow and catching the elf before she hit the ground. "Natasha, don't hurt the Princess. It's over," Lillian said. "If you let her live --" "Okay, who are you and why are you calling me Natasha?" "Let's not play games," Lillian said, her voice soothing. She saw Bangaly raise his weapon half-way, making sure that Natasha saw him. That meant that Reaper, one of Lord Stapleton's assassins, was somewhere nearby, waiting for his shot. "You don't need to do this." "What are you . . . wait," the vampire said, lifting up the Princess. She looked at Farmer. "This is Vanesse!" Farmer nodded. "Yep." "I'm not in Vanesse!" "Nope." "Who's in Vanesse?!" "At the moment, just her." "So who am I in?" Farmer pointed towards Lillian. "I think she has an explanation as to the 'who' of it." "What are you two talking about?" Lillian asked. "Uhm . . . well . . . erh . . . hmm," Farmer muttered in order. "Actual words might help," Lillian suggested dryly. "Speaking really isn't her strong suit," Jack mumbled. "Could someone fix my face? I mean, chicks dig scars and all, but this is just a bit gross." "EVERYBODY STOP!" This was projected directly into the skulls of everyone present by one very confused Greater Dragon. Farmer held her head. "Ouch! Not so loud. Why didn't anyone tell me that it --" "She," Lillian corrected her. "-- that SHE could do that?" "You didn't ask," came the prim, telepathic response. "If we could wake up Vanesse, she could probably explain it better than I could," Farmer said, sitting down and shifting all the way back into her human form. One of her own had arrived carrying Doreen, so she went to check on the fallen hyena. "I whacked her good," the weak but still animated girl said. "Yeah, I can tell. Was your master plan to strangle her with your lower intestines?" "Only if stabbing her in the eye with an exposed rib didn't work." "That's my girl," the matriarch said, ruffling the girl's hair. "Okay, could people stop pointing guns at me and explain what happened?" the captive vampire said. Lillian gave a quick boost of power to Vanesse, bringing her into the conscious world again. "Where . . . what . . . I could have sworn I saw a . . . dragon," she ended in a whisper, staring up at the blackness she had mistaken for the sky. "Good evening Princess, Shamira sent, "I mean you no harm." Vanesse could not speak. The Greater Dragons were things of legends, even to the legendary. Before her stood something that she had only heard in the wildest tales, curled up in her father's arm as he spoke in melodramatic tones before an open fire. "Princess?" Lillian asked. "Vanesse?" She snapped her fingers in front of the elf's face, which seemed to finally get her attention. "That's a dragon." "I know." "Right there." "I can see her." "No, she's right there!" Vanesse said emphatically, pointing at Shadow Wing. "Yes, she's a very good friend of mine. In other words, we've met." Lillian smiled. "There was another one and --" Vanesse followed Lillian's pointed finger to where the smaller-ish green dragon was looking on quizzically. "And we'll talk all about the dragons AFTER you explain why you don't want us to kill Natasha." When Lillian was met with a blank stare, she added, "The vampire who killed Trina." "Trina!" Vanesse said excitedly, looking up and then seeing . . . her. The woman who killed her best friend. Her new best friend, currently cradling the Princess in her arms. "Don't hurt her!" Everyone looked from the elf to the theoretically hostile vampire. Well, everyone except Farmer. "See?" she said. "Told ya." Vanesse struggled a bit, so the vampire put her down. "This," she said, "is Trina." Lillian looked confused. "Trina was your battle-dancer. That's --" "I know, I know. Listen, there was something I didn't come clean about the last time we talked. Trina isn't completely dead." Then like a flood, Vanesse spilled the story, from Trina's death to being reincarnated within Vanesse's mind. She left out the part where Trina had interpreted events as being rejected by the Dancer in White. That seemed far too personal. "That's not possible," Lillian said. "Only vampires and demons can occupy a human host. Vampires only possess their own bodies, and demons force their way into someone else's." "Possible doesn't seem to apply here," Vanesse replied. "Because the woman in my head was Trina. Now . . . Trina's in here," she said, putting a hand on the vampire Natasha's shoulder. "But . . . how?" Vanesse took a deep breath. "I did a full-force life blast on the vampire,forced her spirit out and replaced it with Trina's." Most everyone looked confused, except for Reaper, Lillian, and vampire Trina. "That's impossible!" Lillian said. "You forced a host spirit out of its vampire body?" Reaper said, an unaccustomed fear in his voice. "Vanesse, you could have hurt yourself!" Trina said, shaking Vanesse by the shoulders. "Or worse!" "I couldn't let her keep on walking while you were trapped inside my head! She took your body away, why shouldn't I give you hers? She killed you! She deserved to die!" Lillian still looked stunned. "You forced the spirit of a vampire almost half a millennium old out . . . on force of will?" "Is that hard?" "It's unheard of! Any kind of expenditure like that should have killed you. I . . . and I'm not sure what kind of precedent this sets." Lillian looked at Reaper, the only other vampire present. "By all accounts, it was self defense, but . . . there will be some vampires who are more than a little concerned about what you did. What you're capable of doing." "I . . . I was just so angry," Vanesse whispered, feeling herself wrapped up in Trina's new, strong hands. "All that she did to us. To you." "I'm not mad at you," Trina said, unfamiliar with the sound of her own voice. It was too deep and husky for her liking. "Except for putting yourself in danger. Again. We'll figure this out, okay?" "Promise?" "Promise." "Ladies and gentlemen, I think we need to get going," Shamira thought. "There is only so much interference that the Lord of Tennessee is going to be able to run, and we've made quite a commotion out here. "You're right, of course," Lillian said, her eyes still on the Princess. "I think that I'll ride with her Majesty. Has transportation been arranged?" "We're switching vehicles again?" Farmer muttered. "I'm leaving a trail of broken parts across North America." "Lord Stapleton has provided several buses. Your getaway vehicles will be disposed of in a manner that they cannot be traced back to you. We will be accompanying the Princess." She looked up. "You might want to take the young one and fly home." "I'm not that young," came a new set of thoughts, broadcast from the smaller dragon. "You're two, Aodh. That's young." Vanesse snickered as the smaller dragon actually seemed to pout, then took off into the sky. "Great, now I'm going to have to boost his ego," Shamira thought, glaring at an unrepentant Lillian, then followed her charge into the darkness. "He's only two?" Farmer asked, her disbelief plain to see. "Physically, but he's the equivalent of a teenager mentally. Whether that's a good thing or not varies greatly on whether you're asking Shamira when dealing with him or when she's dealing with the younger ones." "How many are there?" Vanesse asked. "There's Aodh, two sea serpents, a quetzalcoatl, a stone dragon, and a horned dragon. So that would be six, plus Shamira." Lillian grinned. "We get so excited when a new one hatches, then Shamira realizes that it means she gets less time alone with her girlfriend. That's when she starts banging her head against a rock." "She's amazing," Vanesse said "That she is," Lillian agreed. "That she is. Shall we depart, Princess?" Vanesse nodded and made her way towards the road, surrounded by werehyenas, Lillian and Lord Stapleton's guard, and by Trina. Vanesse's gaze kept falling on the new incarnation of her best friend. The vampire was staring at her hands, and had gone completely silent when Vanesse had been fawning over the dragons. She raised her hand to get her friend's attention, but she was swept into a vehicle which Lillian was using as a mobile medical station. Vanesse wanted to watch a master at work, with Farmer's doctor's training coming in handy. But she kept looking around for Trina, who seemed to have vanished. After an hour, Lillian had the wounded patched up, and she looked much fresher than Vanesse would have. She had explained energy flow and retention, and what seemed like a million other things that she should have known. It frustrated her all over again how little her skills had advanced. Lillian had taught her more in a few phone calls and an hour on a bus than her uncle's tutors had in fifteen years. "Where's Trina?" she asked at last. "The . . . your friend is actually on the next bus," Lillian said slowly and calmly. "Why? She's my battle-dancer, so she should be --" "We don't know what you did or what happened exactly, so if there's any chance that Natasha is still in there, we can't risk her being near you. The Representative informed us that she is completely insane." "No, she's gone. I felt her leave. I want my friend," the Princess said, trying to summon up some royal backbone. "Now." "Princess, I don't think that's --" "Unless you've moved from rescuers to kidnappers, you have no right to keep her away from me! You cannot tell me who I can and can't --" "Your Highness, she agreed to it." Vanesse's felt like she had been punched in the gut. "No, no she wouldn't." In thirty years of Vanesse's life, Trina had never voluntarily left her side. This had to be a mistake. "Yes, she would. I believe you that Trina is in that body now, but if there is any chance that Natasha could re-exert control, we want to keep you safe. Farmer is here, and her seconds are in better shape now. They can protect you if you don't trust me and Lord Stapleton's men," she added, pointing towards the others on the bus. "If she was going to hurt me, she would have when she had the chance," Vanesse growled through gritted teeth. "I . . . want . . . my friend." Lillian pulled out her phone. "I'm going to call the next bus. You can talk to her and ask her. Okay?" Vanesse took the phone as if she thought Lillian might bite her. "Hello? Trina?" The voice that came through the other end sent a chill through her. The voice held no fond memories for her. "Princess?" "Trina, if you call me Princess one more time, I will fire you. I mean it," Vanesse said, trying to alleviate her mood a bit. "How are you holding up?" "Well, I was doing fine until someone told me that you shouldn't be around me. How could you agree to that? How --" "Vanesse, I had to. What you did is unprecedented. I don't feel anyone else in here like I did when I was in your head, but we have to be sure. It's just until Lillian can take a better look around my head." "This is supposed to be the good part, though. We're safe, we're free . . . you're supposed to be here with me to celebrate." "You can celebrate with Farmer and the gang. Doreen almost died trying to save you, and Alani and Jack both got hurt. They can --" "None of them are you! You're my friend and my battle-dancer and --" "I'm not your battle-dancer," came a whispered reply. "Not anymore." Vanesse shook her head. "What are you talking about?" "By our oldest laws, only elves can be battle-dancers. I'm . . . I'm not an elf anymore." "That's a technicality!" "No, it isn't. And it's a rule that the monarchy and your people agree on. No matter what, your uncle will insist that you get a full battle-dancer . . . and elvish battle-dancer --" "So by trying to give you your life back, you're . . . you're leaving me?" There was silence for a moment, broken by a voice choked with an emotion that Vanesse could not recognize. "I gave you my Word that I would always protect you, and even without my Word, you know how I feel about you. And if there is ANY chance that my being near you might cause you harm, then I have to take that seriously. But . . . I --" "Yes?" "Vanesse, I don't even know who I am now. I hear my thoughts, but when I look in my reflection, do you know who I see? The woman who killed me. At least when I was in you, it was a person I knew, someone's whose face I had looked at every day. More often than my own, I think," she added a bit shyly, and in a way that made the Princess's heart pitter-pat. "I know what you tried to do and that you were doing it for me . . . from your heart. I just don't know what it leaves me as." Vanesse wanted to cry, but she would not. A Princess did not cry in public, in front of strangers. "You're still Trina. You're still the woman who knows me better than I know myself. You're the amazing person who's saved my life and made the world less scary. You're the one who always came through for me." The Best Medicine Ch. 05 "And spirits willing, I always will. But I need to know that I'm safe for you and . . . and I need to try and understand this "me". And for that, I need some time." The Princess hung up the phone, sniffed and was getting ready to wipe her nose on her sleeve when she found a hand offering her a kleenex. "Thought you might need this," Farmer said. "For some reason, you and she always seem to make each other weepy or angry, and since you weren't hurling shit across the room, I figure this would be appropriate." Vanesse snickered, then wiped her eyes. "So, do I look presentable?" "Not quite as good as you look right after I've balled your brains out, but pretty good." The Princess blushed, but she had to smile. Farmer seemed to have already recovered and was looking at life with her customary zeal and humor. "Bitch." Then she grew serious again. "Farmer, I . . . I think that I should thank you. All of the gang, really, but especially you. You've done a lot more for me than you really needed to, and I'm not just talking about . . . you know. The sex." "That was more fun than chore anyway. An honor bestowed, if you will." Vanesse rolled her eyes. "Anyway, thank you. Honestly, you're the first friend that I've actually made in fifteen years, despite how things started." The werehyena matriarch held the smaller woman against her and stroked her hair. "It was a privilege." The Princess looked past Farmer to Lillian, who was hovering and pretending not to eavesdrop. "So, why are you so worried about that vampire? The one I got rid of?" Lillian sat down and stopped fidgeting. "Because she is . . . was . . . a full vampire lord, she's over five hundred years old, and she was completely evil before she ever went insane. She developed the ability to see into the future, and you know that the history of seers is littered with madmen and lunatics." Vanesse nodded. Seeing into the future was too much for a single mind to handle. With an infinite number of possibilities, even looking a "narrow" slice of them was too much for the finite brain to handle. "So why didn't someone do something about her?" "Ever try to sneak up on someone who can see the future? She was always gone before anyone could catch up with her. The idea that you were able to force a soul that powerful out of her own body is kind of intimidating." Lillian realized she needed to provide the girl some comfort. "Listen, I believe that you're right and that she's right and that there is no trace of Natasha left in there, but the fact that Trina lived in your body for a day proves that it CAN happen. Between myself, the Representative, and Clara Yellowtail, Lord Stapleton's shaman, we should be able to rule definitively that Trina is safe and in full control of that body. It'll just be about five more hours." Vanesse looked back. "Could we maybe let someone go back there? Jack maybe? For all her belly-aching, I think she actually likes him, and she should have a friend with her. She's going through some stuff I hadn't even thought about." "I think that would be a fine idea. We can transfer Jack over the next time we stop for gas, if he wants to." Lillian smiled a brilliant smile, and Vanesse realized just how beautiful this woman was. "So, you've been cooped up for a long time. Why don't you have some hot chocolate or coffee, have a seat, and we'll get you caught up on current events. Okay?" The Princess returned that smile, sat down with Farmer glued to her side, and just began to talk. ----------- ---------------- In Savannah . . . ----------- ---------------- "Really? Five thousand songs?" Vanesse asked. She had actually learned quite a lot in her trip through Georgia and while it had not quite made up for a decade and a half of isolation, it had helped. But when she had arrived at the estate of Sheriff Banshee, she had been given a "cultural liaison" and temporary bodyguard who was a little more hip than her associates. Vanesse had been fixed at the hip to a vampire named Bunny since arriving, and in the last hour, the Princess had learned a few things about her new compatriot. One, Bunny had opinions on just about everything. Two, she liked to talk about her opinions. Three, she had no off switch. "Seriously, this is the most bitchin' Ipod ever! See, you can just touch the screen and you've got all the controls. Totally wicked. I really need to organize my playlists though, because this thing'll bounce around from Chopin to ZZ-Top, and that's kinda a leap in my whole listening vibe thing." Listening to Bunny was a something of a game of mental acrobatics, but the girl just made Vanesse smile. She was happy to exist. She already knew that Bunny had only been dead for about a year, an existence saved from Leukemia, and she was, by her own admission, "a total bondage submissive slut." Apparently, everyone in Lord Stapleton's immediate House, and by extension through his vampiric daughter Banshee's House, were into bondage, and they were quite unapologetic about it. And despite her bubbly attitude, the young vampire had a fully functioning and somewhat impressive brain, when she chose to actually connect it to her mouth. "So, do you get to see the dragons often?" "Yes!" Bunny said excitedly, jumping up and down like an excited schoolgirl. "Nu, the Horned Dragon . . . she and I are buds. I mean, she's not even one year old yet, but she already has a favorite chocolate bar, and I've got her totally hooked on Britney Spears music." "Who?" Bunny looked aghast. "Oh my God! You don't know . . . of course you don't. You've been in Alaska for like for-EVER. Britney Spears is just one of the most amazing performers ever." The stacked young blonde vampire began frantically searching for something on her Ipod, then gave Vanesse one of her earbuds to listen to. "Hit me baby, one more time," Bunny sang, her body beginning to dance in her own little world. "It's . . . catchy?" Vanesse half-said, half-asked. She actually found herself liking the song and feeling guilty about liking it, all at the same time. "Totally." Banshee's compound was a very interesting place, designed like an ancient Japanese palace, and Bunny and Vanesse were hanging out in a small room with paper walls. The Princess had been able to take a long, hot shower and get into some clean clothes. Someone had arranged for a royal elvish robe to be sent while she was getting cleaned, and Bunny had told her it made her look "totally regal and stuff." Bunny had just helped Vanesse finish with her hair when the door slid open and Lillian stepped inside. "Lillian!" Bunny said, bounding over, remembering herself, then getting on her hands and knees and kissing Lillian's sandal-clad feet. She behaved like the submissive that she loved being. "Lillian smiled slightly, then motioned with her chin to rise. "For the Princess's sake, we are going to be 'off' for the rest of the evening." Bunny looked visibly disappointed. "But you have such pretty feet!" She looked over at the Princess. "Aren't her feet cute?" "Adorable," Vanesse said. The redheaded necromancer laughed. "I apologize that Lord Stapleton was not immediately available to meet with you. He is arranging the final transportation for the Alpha and the Shepherd, and apparently your uncle, the King, is on his way as well." Vanesse's face fell. She did not want to deal with elvish politics or crowns or treachery at the moment. She just wanted to catch her breath, make sure that Trina was going to be okay, and then . . . well, she needed to recharge. And she could just imagine her uncle's face when she told him how she planned to get her battery up. And speaking of her battery, she saw Farmer's face peek around the entrance to the room. "And in case you're wonderin' I'm doin' just fine." Vanesse let out an unladylike snort. "You and cockroaches will survive until the sun goes supernova." "But I'll survive lookin' good!" The Princess's eyes caressed every inch of that hard physique and had to admit, the woman cleaned up well. She was still covered in tattoos and wearing biker's leathers, but the leathers and the skin were clean. And underneath the chaps and denim, she knew what other secrets that body had. She got on her toes and hugged the taller woman. "Yes, you will." Farmer felt a warming feeling in her groin. "Better back off, or we may be late." Lillian raised her eyebrows. "Have you had a chance to replenish your energy, Princess?" "No, I . . . wait. I need to get through these next few hours. I can't stop to think about . . . enjoying myself." The other necromancer raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness, you used up all of your magical reserves. You'll hardly be at your best if you fall asleep out there." "I slept on the bus! And . . . and I need to make sure that Trina is all right." "Trina is fine," Lillian replied. "We confirmed that she is the only soul in her body, and she is currently attempting an adjustment that no one in your race's history has ever had to make. She needs time." "I can't just do IT. Lord Stapleton is waiting!" "If you knew Lord Stapleton like I do, you'd know he would never begrudge a beautiful woman a quickie." Bunny nodded in vigorous agreement. "I can testify to that. Happily." She grinned. "This one time, he handcuffed me to a carousel horse and --" "Bunny, this isn't about you. And that was hardly quick." Lillian looked at Vanesse and smiled, and there was a wickedness to those lips now. "And I would be a poor hostess indeed if I did not offer my own services and that of Lord Stapleton's House in making sure that you are made very, very comfortable." Vanesse's eyes shot open. "Wait, are . . . are you hitting on me? AND trying to get me to have sex with Farmer?" "Hey, what about me?" Bunny asked. "I need someone to guard the door." "Hey! That's just mean, and not the fun kind of mean where I'm getting spanked with a leather belt!" "You're all insane! The entire outside world," Vanesse said. "I thought it was just her," she added, pointing her thumb at Farmer. "Can we get back to the part where I'm getting left out of the sex?" Bunny pouted. "Okay, you're getting left out of sex. Better yet, I'm going to make you watch," Lillian whispered heatedly. "You might learn a thing or too. Do you understand me?" Bunny gulped. This was what she was used to. Dominance. Lillian was a switch, meaning she could be either dominant or submissive, and she had just let Bunny know the score. "Hey, I haven't agreed to any of this!" The Princess was flabbergasted that this was even happening. "No, and you are free to say no of course. But do you want to?" Lillian asked. "The King will be here in a few hours, we're going to be wrapped up in political happenings, you have to broadcast your end-of-distress beacon, and then there will be any number of other things to do. This may be your last chance for quite some time to indulge." "Really? You're going to play the magnanimous angle?" "Is it working?" Vanesse grinned. A minute later, she was on all fours, Farmer ramming her enormous black cock into the elf's tight sex while Vanesse tasted Lillian's smooth pussy. Lillian was demonstrating both her flexibility and her enthusiasm, her legs forming the perfect splits while she gripped Vanesse's hair and ground that eager mouth against her sex. "She's been practicing," the redhead murmured happily, glancing at Farmer. "How has she managed since every one of your people is endowed?" "She had sex with Trina in her dreams. The battle-dancer is a good tutor, so it would seem." 'I should be thinking about her,' Vanesse thought, 'but she'd get mad at me if I did.' And the Princess was also digging the energy. Farmer's big black cock had become familiar to her in the last week, and she reacquainted herself with the ever light ridge and bump on that wonderful pleasure device. "Mmh, Princess, I think that you should declare asylum here in Georgia. I know so many people who would love to expand your knowledge of the . . . uh . . . uh . . . magical and carnal arts." The texture of a real pussy was much more delightful that Vanesse could have imagined it. Had Trina been disappointed because she had been limited by the power and extent of Vanesse's thoughts? She hadn't complained, and now the Princess was learning some great new techniques. Because Lillian was more than happy to give advice, usually in the form of "Right there, right there!" And poor Bunny stood nearby, fully dressed in combat armor and pressing her legs together, looking on with a hunger that only a creature of the night could possess. She had been forbidden to even touch herself, and it was taking its toll. "Don't look at her," Lillian requested. "She is a spectator only." "She's right. You are mean." Vanesse pressed the tip of her tongue against Lillian's clitoris, then sucked gently. "I'm still teaching her that all good things happen to those who wait." Vanesse dove deeper, pulling Lillian's pussy lips apart while sending her tongue in for an ice cream scoop. She did several more in succession, then the senior necromancer suggested she slow things down. She was not given much choice, as Farmer was pushing a thumb into a previously untouched place. "What are you --" "It's okay, not putting anything else in there," Farmer assured her. "Just giving you a new experience is all. Relax, and try and enjoy it." Enjoying it turned out not to be a problem. It had just freaked her out. Having a big cock in one point of entry while the other was teased was turning out to be fun. She wondered if she could handle -- 'Okay, one thing at a time,' she reminded herself. She squeezed Farmer's rod with her vaginal muscles. She did not have much control yet, but it was something else that she was learning, and the attempt made Farmer give off her happy growl. Lillian let herself relax and gave herself a bit of a magical push to hurry towards climax. She really did need to get the Princess over to Lord Stapleton. But rarely had she seen such an unpolished gem, and she could not resist polishing it a bit more. "That's it Vanesse, that's . . . oh fuck yeah!" Lillian brought her legs together on the sides of Vanesse's face and proceeded to climax. The Princess could feel the power flowing onto her tongue, and she drank it in like a battery. It was wild, and the energy smelled of roses and cinnamon, making her hungry to take all of it and more. "Okay . . . okay, you can stop now," Lillian whispered as Vanesse nuzzled her sensitive sex, each caress of that hard clit like delicious torture. "What a rush," Vanesse replied happily. She pushed up with her arms and looked back, relishing the view of Farmer thrusting into her, grabbing the Princess's soft ass cheeks with strong fingers. "If you're done at that end," Farmer said with a grin, pulling out and then maneuvering herself in front of Vanesse. The Princess, with more enthusiasm than she could have imagined just a week earlier, opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the mushroom-like crown of Farmer's cock. She did not use her hands, letting the werehyena use her mouth like she had used her pussy, namely at her leisure. "Where are my manners?" Lillian asked. "I'm letting my guest be neglected." She lay on her back and scooted between Vanesse's legs. But before she went to work, she had some instructions for Bunny. "Bunny, attend the Princess's asshole. Now." Vanesse was in heaven. Bunny lunged into action, happy to finally have something to do, and her tongue danced around the pink ring of the Princess's sphincter, while Lillian was demonstrating just exactly how cunnilingus was supposed to be performed. The ladies of the House of Stapleton knew how to use their mouths. And speaking of "using their mouths," Vanesse continued to use hers on the chocolaty goodness that was Farmer's enormous t-girl cock. "Suck it," Farmer cooed. "That's a good Princess. Fuck, you really need to come with us. I could use a good daily blowjob from a hot elf slut." Vanesse blushed. What surprised her was not the language that Farmer had used, but how much she had enjoyed it. After fifteen years of being told how dirty sex was, she found herself agreeing. And liking it. She stroked that dick with both hands, leaving only the head in her mouth. She wanted Farmer's cum, like she was lost in the desert and it was the only thing available to drink. "Well, I guess that's my signal to hurry it up," the werehyena said, letting herself relax so that she could get off more quickly and give Vanesse what she craved. But Lillian's tongue and lips, as well as Bunny's fingers and tongue in Vanesse's ass, were too much, and Vanesse was climaxing before she could bring Farmer to release. Not that she was complaining. Orgasms were far too much fun to be too concerned with who's occurred first. Her body trembled, shivering with hidden delight as the climax built, then slowly tapered off. When Vanesse was done, she opened her mouth to help finish Farmer off, the black t-girl had other ideas. She flipped Vanesse onto her back and then mounted her chest, putting all nine-inches of her meat between the elf's full breasts and then pushing those breasts together. "What are you --" "It's called breast sex," Lillian explained, running her hand over Farmer's ass as she began pumping between Vanesse's tits. "Something you seem almost perfectly built for. Tip your head forward and suck on Farmer when the head comes through." Vanesse was pretty much willing to try anything at this point, and Farmer certainly seemed to be enjoying the feeling. Surprisingly, having a hot, hard piece of flesh between her breasts was actually somewhat pleasant. When she caught Farmer's crown between her lips, the werehyena moaned. Encouraged, Vanesse began to play, sometimes sucking on the head of Farmer's cock, sometimes just kissing it or caressing it lightly with the tip of her tongue. But then Farmer did what Vanesse found so unnaturally exciting, namely she took charge. She grabbed Vanesse's head and held it in place so that when she thrust through the woman's cleavage, black cock penetrated the Princess's mouth, where Farmer proceeded to climax. And could that woman ever cum! It was not long before it was spilling out of Vanesse's mouth, despite her attempts to swallow it all. "Savor it," Lillian cooed. "It sounds strange, but you can get more energy if you don't rush." "You said this was a quickie!" "Don't talk with your mouthful, your Highness. While it is kind of sexy, it's not dignified." Vanesse swallowed the rest of Farmer's load. "I just got fucked by a relative stranger and a werehyena." Lillian looked serious. "Never let anyone tell you that the pursuit of pleasure between consenting individuals is ugly or undignified or ignoble in any way. You are a beautiful, smart woman who has a bright future ahead of her." "Assuming I survive," Vanesse grumbled. The redhead leaned over, kissed Vanesse in a more than friendly fashion, then smiled at her. "You will. I'm thinking that you're stronger than you realize." She glanced at Bunny, who still looked so horny that she could almost die. "You were a good girl. I promise you that later, after dinner, you will be amply rewarded." Bunny bowed her head in respect, but secretly she was already looking forward to what Lillian had planned for her. "Thank you Mistress Lillian." Bunny proceeded to sponge and towel the Princess off, arrange her hair, and helping her dress before heading over to the main hall. "So, is it going to be worth it?" Vanesse whispered to her vampire bodyguard, glancing towards where Farmer and Lillian where talking. Bunny just grinned and said, "It's always worth it. You don't get to be a dominant in Shane's household unless you know what you're doing." The Best Medicine Ch. 05 "You really enjoy it, don't you? The games?" The young woman nodded enthusiastically. "It's no different for me than breathing used to be. It's just who I am. Some people, like Shamira, need to be convinced that it's okay, but Shane and Renata set her straight on it." "How so?" "Shane told her that being a sexual submissive is not the same as being weak, and if you get to know Shamira, she ain't weak. Then Renata reminded her kinda what Lillian was talking about. It's okay to want stuff, even if some people might consider it weird or freaky. Shamira was so used to having to be strong all the time that when she finally was able to let go, she was happy." "Do you think . . . well, that maybe I --" "Nah. I don't see you as a sub. Just . . . well, slutty. And trust me, that's a good thing in my book." Vanesse blushed, but she smiled. "I like you." "Back at ya! And now that you're hip to my taste in music, we can be BFFs!" "BFF?" "Best friends forever." "Technically, Trina is my best friend." "Oh, no sweat. BFF is an entirely different kind of best friend." The bubbly blonde proceeded to break down text-speak and modern friendships, filling Vanesse's head with pop culture like she was feeding her with a fire-hose. By the time they got to the main dining hall, the BFF status had been firmly established. They arrived at the dining area, and it was full to the brim with lycanthropes, vampires, human guards and servants, a few other elves, and she was pretty sure that she saw a fairy or two flitting around the room. She had never seen such a conglomeration of beings in one place outside of a royal event. "Lord Stapleton," Lillian said, parting the crowd with a wave of her hand, "May I present Princess Vanesse Bellethial, heir to the throne and crown of the Elvish people." Shane Stapleton was very close to the poster-boy for the modern view of vampires. Standing at six feet, two inches, he wore a custom made suit that fit him perfectly, and boy did he look good in it. Sharp blue eyes stared at her from underneath dirty blond hair, and she could tell that those eyes did not miss much. Clean shaven, full lips . . . 'Damn,' she thought. 'No wonder everyone wants to work for him.' "Your Highness," Lord Stapleton said, "It is an honor to welcome you to my territory, and only wish that it had not been under such dangerous conditions." He took her hand and kissed it, every bit the gentleman. "And may I introduce Banshee, oldest child of my line and territorial lord. This is actually her estate." The woman in question stepped forward, dressing in a traditional Japanese kimono. She was not a particularly large woman, but she had a determined, commanding presence that almost radiated from her Asian features. Vanesse knew that Banshee had been Lord Stapleton's chief assassin for approaching two centuries, and she had a reputation that made even an Elvish Princess nervous. Banshee simply nodded and bowed. "It is an honor to meet you, your Highness. Know that you are safe and welcome here." Vanesse curtsied. "And thanks to both of you for arranging my safe passage for the last part of my journey. Being rescued by a greater dragon was . . . well, something that I shall remember until the end of my days." Shane smiled, making Vanesse's heart beat a little faster. 'I am a slut!' she thought. "Shamira has that effect on people." "And I would like to introduce you to Farmer, matriarch of the Joker's Wild werehyena pack. Without her and her comrades, I would never have made it this far unharmed." "Greetings, and be welcome," Stapleton replied. "Lord Stapleton, my other companion --" "Is currently resting," Lillian assured her. "The spells we cast exhausted her somewhat." Lord Stapleton leaned in. "And she seems somewhat disoriented still. After dinner, we shall attend her so you can reassure yourself that she is well." Vanesse smiled and blushed. "Am I that obvious?" "Lillian told me of what happened and what she could of your relationship. I would be disappointed if you were NOT concerned with her health. Actually, the Representative is with her now." "The Representative?" Vanesse knew that the vampire's representative to the Tribunal was here, but it was still impressive to hear her name. The Representative was reputed to be a thousand years old, making her easily one of the oldest beings to walk the earth. "Yes. She apparently knew the vampire who's body Lady Trina now possesses, and felt she might be able to help your friend transition." "Thank you," Vanesse said. "For looking after her. She deserves it more than most." Shane offered his hand to his young guest, impressed that she cared more for her guard than for herself. He glanced at the less polished but still fetching Farmer. "You and yours are welcome to join us for the feast. I promise to compensate you, on behalf of the Tribunal, for your considerable expenses in rescuing the Princess." "There was an offer of free grub in there, wasn't there?" Farmer asked with a grin. Shane cocked an eyebrow and almost smiled. "I believe there was." Farmer turned, whistled, and her gang came pouring in shortly thereafter. There were some odd looks from the other guests, but Joker's Wild did not care. They were used to being stared at. "Farmer, would you sit with me?" Vanesse asked, suddenly anxious to have at least one person she knew nearby. "I'll keep an eye on you," Farmer replied, her voice becoming unusually solemn. "Don't you worry." Banshee snapped her fingers, and another place was set at the high table. "Princess, your uncle is on his way, as well as is the delegation from the Tribunal," Shane said softly. "They have been delayed by storms up north, but should be hear by sunrise." Vanesse went from relaxed to anxious to angry. "Good. I have a few things to say to . . . several people," she almost snapped. Lord Stapleton did not look surprised. He knew about elvish politics. "If you would like, I am well-versed in politics. If you would like to discuss things before everyone arrive, you might find my ear to be quite attentive." "Thank you, Lord Stapleton. I may take you up on that." "Ah, there is someone I believe that you've already met." "Lady Shamira!" Vanesse said with a child-like glee. "I'm glad to see you again." The living incarnation of Shadow Wing was leaning against one wall, a silky black robe covering that goddess-like body, while her long black ponytail was draped over her shoulder and fell between two rather large breasts. Standing next to Shamira was one of the most deliciously sensual looking women that Vanesse had ever seen. She was a young, brown-skinned woman of Native American descent. Her long legs were on display for all to see, as the only thing below the woman's waist were a loincloth that barely covered the private areas, and a pair of leather moccasins. A leather vest encompassed small, soft breasts, and the woman's hair was decorated with a variety of colored feathers. And damn, that girl had the most amazing lips that Vanesse had ever seen, full, delicious, and smirking. "You've got another fan," the new woman said. "Another to add to your list of admirers." Shamira looked like she wanted to blush, but couldn't. "Don't start." The woman grinned, then faced Vanesse. "Hello, I'm Clara Yellowtail. I'm Lord Stapleton's shaman, though I currently reside here at Banshee's estate." "Are you here to look after the dragons?" Vanesse asked, thinking it wise to have a nature-based magic user around to help look after a new species. Clara glanced over at Shamira and smiled. "Well, one of them anyway." Her gaze went far beyond friendship or even lust. It was the look Vanesse's father had whenever he looked at his queen. Whatever relationship these two had, it was not casual. And the returned look, one of pure devotion, sealed the deal. "Does she really cause that much trouble?" the Princess asked. Shane coughed a comment into his hand, Clara grinned . . . even Banshee strove to suppress a smirk. Shamira glowered at all of them. "Okay, I do not --" "Yes, you do," they all said in unison. Clara ran a finger along Shamira's jaw. "If you didn't cause trouble, I wouldn't have any reason to discipline you." Her voice had gone from affectionate to downright sultry in just under a second. "What fun would that be?" "I'd tell you to get a room, but dinner is almost served," Shane said. Shamira looked somewhat intense, and her eyes did not leave Clara's face. "But Lord Stapleton, the children are asleep, and how often --" "Dinner . . . now," Shane said firmly, then smiled as the muscular vampire-turned-dragon practically pouted all the way to her seat. Dinner was a spectacular event and, for a while, Vanesse forgot her troubles. The food was amazing, and Lord Stapleton had even arranged for a string quartet. He and Banshee sat next to each other, with Vanesse and Farmer on one side while Clara and Shamira sat on the other. Banshee had introduced her to Aven and Neva, a pair of brother/sister elvish assassins that had sworn themselves to Banshee's service. For now, they stood nearby, protecting their Princess, but their presence only began to remind her of someone else's absence. She wanted to go check on HER bodyguard. She was getting ready to ask to see Trina again when a disturbance was heard toward the front of the room. The music stopped, the crowd parted, and King Tarrin Ralisen, ruler of the elves, made his appearance. He was flanked by thirty elite elvish guards, as well as by Baron Glennon Montain, his guard, and Torris, the Baron's personal "problem solver." Instantly, Vanesse felt a chill. She looked at the Baron, who was supposedly her uncle's first choice to be Vanesse's king, and she saw the eyes of the man that she was sure had put the death bounty on her head. "Princess," the King said, hurrying forward, his face showing a rare moment of actual relief. "We were so worried. Are you unhurt?" Vanesse rose, her legs trembling, but her voice was steady. "I am well, your Majesty. It was a frightening ordeal, but Lord Stapleton has been a most gracious host." Then she saw how the King was looking at Farmer, and she had to put her plan into action. One of the principles of elvish politics was to set the tone of the conversation. "And this brave werehyena and her pack escorted me safely from here after rescuing me from my captors." "What captors? Who were --" "I never saw the faces of those that took me from our Alaskan compound. I was drugged, and they were all wearing masks. By the time I awoke, I was in the care of Joker's Wild." The King was not buying any of this, but he could not accuse the Princess of lying directly, and she knew. He did not know what game she was playing, but she was just a foolish, young girl. He was the king. "Farmer, is it? Who exactly did you rescue her from? I assume that there are bodies that can corroborate your story?" "I didn't realize that we needed an alibi for a rescue," Farmer said evenly, summoning up her alpha's strength. "I didn't get a good look at the guys holding her, but getting her out safely was my highest priority." "We wanted to let you know where we were," Vanesse said, trying not to talk to quickly. "Unfortunately, we had discovered that a price had been put on my head, and finding people we could trust was problematic." "You could have contacted me," the King said, annoyed that his desire to punish Farmer and her flea-bitten mongrels was being circumvented. 'Perhaps the Princess is not quite as much a dolt as I thought,' he contemplated. "Information obtained from the first group of assassins who made a play on my life indicated to me that my enemy or enemies might very well have contacts within the nobility. While I trust you, your Majesty, there are those in Court that hold no love for me." "Are you suggesting a spy? Amongst MY council?" "I only suggest that I chose to be cautious. I saw my oldest friend bleeding in the snow from bullets meant for me, so I hope you will forgive me my paranoia." That stopped the King in his tracks, but only for a moment. "I am sorry Princess. I did not even notice that Trina was not at your side. I had heard that she had not been witnessed at the scene of the last rescue attempt by the Royal Hunters, but . . . my condolences." "Save your tears, your Majesty," came a smooth, freezing cold voice from a door behind Lord Stapleton. From out of the shadows, the new body of Trina stepped forward. "I am not quite as dead as I was supposed to be." --------------- ------------- To be continued . . . The Best Medicine Ch. 06 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex. While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game. The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful. Proofread by "Cristalball" --------- ------------------ Vanesse had always thought the phrase "and then all hell broke loose" was a tad melodramatic, but she was coming to the conclusion that it was insufficient to describe what was going on. It had started with a confrontation between her and her uncle, King Tarrin Ralisen, about the circumstances surrounding Vanesse's abduction from her Alaska compound and her cross-country excursion that had ended in Savannah, Georgia. She had managed to successfully spin everything so that the werehyena pack, Joker's Wild, were made out as her saviors. She had actually backed the King into a corner, and then Trina had made her presence known. Things had degenerated from there. Trina, Vanesse's best friend and battle-dancer, had died several days earlier. Instead of passing into the Great Hall of the battle-dancers where they would dance and make love and serve only themselves until the end of time, she was returned to Earth, her spirit taking up residence in Vanesse's body. Then, the Princess had forced the soul out of the very vampire who had killed Trina, and put her friend's soul in that form. Explaining all this too to the elvish monarch had not been easy, and he had not taken the news with much grace. He had realized what Vanesse had been up to, what she had been doing to build up enough power to perform an unthinkable act, and then the proverbial shit had hit the fan. He had done everything except outright call her a whore, and she had come so close to losing her cool and slapping him that she was amazed she could not see her handprint on his cheek. The Royal Guards were keeping distance between the king, his niece, and the vampire Trina who was glaring holes in the King's skull. That was when Vanesse had realized something, namely that Trina hated the King. She had known that her best friend did not respect the monarch, but those eyes . . . those eyes conveyed a level of disdain that went far beyond civil disagreement. He had always looked down on her, treated her like crap, and then he had made her promise to effectively lie to Vanesse until the battle-dancer had found a way around it. Finding out that little tidbit had further incensed the King, though he could not do anything about it since Vanesse had captured on video when she released Trina from her Word she had given the crown. The King thought that meant that Vanesse had fired Trina, but then he discovered that her Word to Vanesse was much deeper and much more personal than the vow normally given. "She is an abomination!" Baron Montain was shouting, pointing at Trina's new body with snarling contempt in his voice. "Lord Stapleton, I demand you remove her from here at once!" Shane Stapleton, regional lord over all of Georgia and personal favorite of the Tribunal, shrugged. "Trina has not shown herself to be a threat to anyone, so unless Princess Vanesse requests that she be removed --" "Which I absolutely do not!" Vanesse said, resisting the urge to stomp her foot like a child. "She is no abomination Baron. She is my friend, my battle-dancer, and I expect you to treat her with respect." "She is no longer your battle-dancer," the King said haughtily. "Only elves may serve as guardians to royalty. That is the law." "It's a stupid law, and Trina was born an elf. Her spirit is still that of an elf. Only the battle-dancers have magic in their Word, and her Word defied death itself." "Not completely," the Baron shot back. "She is undead. Even now, she craves the blood of the living, something that no self-respecting elf would ever allow --" A sound like thunder echoed throughout the chamber, and all conversation fell silent. Shamira, vampire and living embodiment of the last Moon Dragon to walk the earth, had just broken a heavy oak table in half. With words as deep and cold as the bottom of the ocean, Shamira spoke directly to Baron Montain. "Don't . . . you . . . dare," she started, "try and claim that there are no elves who have a taste for blood." Clara put one hand on her companion's shoulder. "Don't do this," she said, her voice hinting at an anguish that Vanesse did not comprehend. "You chose to forgive what happened before anyone else." Shamira was trembling with emotions too complex to exist in the verbal world, but Clara's touch seemed to have a calming effect. "I believe," Lord Stapleton said, his voice commanding, "that we need to take a short recess. Things are getting heated, and it makes for a poor environment to conduct politics." "Who are you to suggest anything of the King?" Montain asked. Just then, a new presence filled the room, and it was so palpable that even pure humans took notice. "He is Lord of the land, and he carries the blessing of the Tribunal," a woman's voice said, projecting through the room like a great wave. "And if you do not listen to him, then perhaps you should listen to me." "Representative," the King said, actually taking a step back and bowing his head. The vampire's delegate to the Tribunal had entered the verbal fray, and not even a King would disrespect her. She had walked the earth for a thousand years, making her one of the most powerful of her kind. "I did not realize you were here." "I had been counseling Lady Trina on her transformation, and I was resting until this fracas broke out," the Representative said, her voice carrying an Italian tinge to it, though a myriad of other accents also filled her words. When someone lived as long as she had, they picked up a few languages. "I suggest that we all do as Lord Stapleton mentioned and take a moment to reflect on what we wish to say." The King looked like he wanted to object, but very few people could stand the Representative's stare for long, and defying the Tribunal without a damn good reason was unwise. He looked towards the Princess, but Vanesse was moving towards Trina. Trina was still staring right at him, and when their eyes met, the King felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 'I should have gotten rid of her years ago,' he thought. And he was sure, with every fiber of his being, that she was thinking the same thing about him. "Trina?" Vanesse asked, waving her hand in front of her friend's face to get her attention. "You in there?" The newly created vampire blinked and then focused her eyes on the Princess. "Yeah, I guess I am." "You really hate him, don't you?" For a moment, Trina considered denying it, but she did not have the energy to lie. "I really do." "Trina, I don't care what any of them say. You're still my battle-dancer." A spot of red appeared in the corner of Trina's eyes. Blood. "No, I'm not. The law and tradition are on his side." "Screw them," Vanesse hissed angrily. "I'm the future Queen, so what I say --" "I want you to let them win." Vanesse's jaw dropped. "What?" Trina leaned back against the wall. "Vanesse, I've been talking to the Representative and . . . and there are problems. This vampire's body is incredibly sensitive to sunlight. I can't be outside in the daytime for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. How can I guard you if I can't even follow you outside for more than half the day?" The Princess was shaking her head. "Don't give up on me. Please? I can travel at night, and I'm sure that there are spells --" Faster than Vanesse could even blink, Trina was right in front of her. "I would never give up on you. But I'm scared. So damn scared." "You? You've never been scared of anything in your life? You pick fights with entire werehyena packs." "I'm scared of failing your parents," Trina said, wiping a bloody tear from her cheek. "I'm scared of failing you because I couldn't be there for you. And now, I'm scared every time I look in a mirror because, when I do, I hear her footsteps in the snow, and I feel my neck twist. Do you understand what that's like? To see your own death in your own reflection?" Vanesse was using every bit of willpower she possessed in order to not to scream or cry. "So that's it? We survive all this so that you can leave me?" Trina bowed her head. "Vanesse," she started, whispering so low that only her friend could hear, "I still love you. I just don't know how I feel about ME anymore. I don't want to leave you, but I don't think that I can protect you, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because I was too selfish to share you." Vanesse stepped forward and put a hand on her friend's face. "No," she said. "I want you to be selfish. If I need to get more guards, so be it, but I won't do it if it means you not being there with me. I fought too hard to give you your life back, and I want to be selfish too. I want you to share your life with me. You'll get better. You'll learn how to deal with this body, and you'll watch over me. Because if you don't, then you'll have hurt me a hell of a lot more than those goblin bullets would have." Trina had blood dripping from both eyes. Farmer walked over at the same time as the Representative. There were a dozen or so vampire guards keeping their eye on the venerable woman, but Vanesse seriously doubted that a thousand year old undead woman was particularly afraid of a half-trained necromancer or her werehyena cohort. "Princess Vanesse," the Representative said. "I am sorry I was unable to greet you earlier. When I heard of the circumstances surrounding Trina's physical transference, I felt that she might need my counsel. I have helped many a new vampire find her legs, though never under such unique circumstances." Trina wiped her eyes. "Yeah, that's me. Unique." "More so than you realize," the Representative said solemnly. "To defy death with nothing but the power of a promise?" "I was rejected," Trina said bitterly. "The Dancer in White refused me entrance." The beautiful Italian vampire cocked an eyebrow. "Then why aren't you in hell?" Trina looked confused. "What?" "If you believe in a heaven, you must believe in a hell, don't you? If you were rejected from your heaven, why were you sent back down here? Perhaps, you were not being punished, but rather rewarded." "Rewarded?" The Representative looked from Trina to Vanesse. "Heaven is more a state of mind than a place in the universe. Perhaps your return to earth was simply a push in the right direction." Vanesse punched her friend in the arm. "Told you he didn't reject you." "Do not try to second-guess life," the Representative said, her voice growing warm as the Tuscan summers of her youth. "Sometimes, just when you think that the universe has given you a burden too heavy for your shoulders," she continued, her eyes moving to where Lord Stapleton, Banshee, and Clara were attempting to calm Shamira down, "then something amazing happens. And sometimes, you begin to realize just what you're capable of." Vanesse put her arm around Trina's shoulders, but decided to give her friend a moment to compose herself. "Representative, what was that about? Why was Shamira so angry?" The old vampire's face grew oddly ugly for a moment, as if a memory were leaving a bad taste in her mouth. "It is . . . complicated. And it is in the past." "With all due respect, it does not seem to be so far in the past, and it involves the elves. Doesn't it?" Farmer was nodding. "I'm not scared of much, but I would NOT want to have been in the Baron's shoes right about then." Aven and Neva, both of who were standing nearby, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Lillian looked ill, so Bunny took it upon herself to step in and speak. "Representative, maybe you should tell her? She's gonna find out sooner or later, and she should probably hear about it from someone who was there." The older vampire smiled and stroked Bunny's face, making the girl straighten with pride. "You are growing wiser, young one." Then the Representative looked back at Vanesse. "Before Shamira's transformation was complete, she was a relatively new enforcer for Lord Stapleton. But while she was not yet a dragon in body, she was in spirit. She got into a situation where she saved a family of werehorses from some enemies of Lord Stapleton, but she was betrayed by the first and only elf she had ever met." "What happened?" Farmer asked. The werehyena earned herself a brief, sorrowful gaze. "Have you ever heard of a form of torture known as an Unmaking?" Farmer shook her head. Trina looked confused. Vanesse was horrified. "That's just a myth. How --" "He spent a solid day torturing her. To some, that might not seem like much. But he broke everything inside her, including severing her spine with silver. And he did not even know the worst of what he did. Shamira is a Shadow Healer. When he left her in the dark to suffer . . . to wait for her to be so broken that her spirit itself surrendered, her body attempted to heal wounds that could not be healed. In all my years, I have never seen a body so completely obliterated, and all simply because he could." "But . . . how did she survive?" "She had other abilities that her captor did not understand. She freed herself, freed another prisoner, killed her captor, and then . . . Then she waited to die." The Representative shook the melancholy off. "But she did not drift into the Eternal Night. She was saved and, obviously, evolved fully into Shadow Wing. When word got out about what had happened to the chosen of the last Moon Dragon, there was a concern amongst the elves that the perpetrator's actions might be taken personally. Shamira swore that she bore no ill will, but --" "But having the Baron try to claim that elf shit don't stink was a bit much," Farmer whistled. "Not how I would have put it, but yes. She really has no ill will towards your people, Princess, but if the Baron does not show some tact, then the elvish nobility may lose one member." "That'd be a shame," Trina muttered. "Trina --" "Hey, I'm apparently not enough of an elf to be a battle-dancer, so I'm not elf enough to deal with politics." "You're more elf than anyone else here," the Princess said. "No offense," she added, looking at Aven and Neva. "You're the Princess," one said with a smirk. "It is our job to be belittled by you. An honor even." Neva, following in her brother's footsteps, said, "You could spit on me and then kick me in the shin. It would be something to tell the grandchildren about." "Great. Just what I need. Two more of my subjects to mock me." "Would not dream of it, oh truly magnificent one." Vanesse looked at Trina. "Are you going to let them talk to me like this?" "You ARE truly magnificent," Trina said, trying to smile with unfamiliar lips. "Princess," a guard said, looking around nervously at the company Vanesse was keeping, "the King requires that you attend him." "You can tell the King --" Vanesse started to reply, but then Trina gave her a look. "He's your uncle, and he is the King. You're going to have to deal with him." "But I want to stay with my best friend. You need me too." "You have an entire kingdom to deal with," Trina whispered. "You're not going to be able to put me first." The Representative put a hand on Trina's shoulder. "You've been crying, which means you've been losing blood. We'll get you a blood pack and I'll explain a few more things. Actually," she said, glancing at Shamira, "why don't you have HER show you? Shamira has only been a vampire for a year or so, so she probably better remembers what it is like to wake up in a new body than an old fossil such as myself." "You are many things," Vanesse said, "but you are no fossil." She curtsied. "Trina, go . . . you know, get something to eat. I'll go talk with my uncle and --" She stopped, a wicked thought coming to her mind. "But I should not be unattended." "Princess, we would be happy to stand with you," Aven and Neva said together. "Okay, the synchronized talking thing is spooky. And while I appreciate the offer," the Princess said, sliding her arm around Farmer's waist, "I had someone else in mind." She looked into the werehyena's eyes. "Would you, and Joker's Wild, mind having my back for a bit?" Farmer grinned. "You're starting trouble, aren't you? Sweet cheeks, you know you can count on us." "Sweet cheeks?" the Representative asked. The two nearby elvish assassins tried not to snicker. "She's earned the privilege," was all Vanesse said, then she and a number of werehyenas walked over to a furious looking elvish monarch. "She's not quite the pushover I was led to believe she was," the Representative said, looking at Trina. "No, she really isn't. She's strong enough to stand on her own," the battle-dancer vampire said, her voice growing a tad wistful. She looked at the older vampire, who had turned her attention momentarily to Shane Stapleton. And the look she gave him, a mere flash across her face that came and went faster than most beings could possible see, was one of such affection that it almost made Trina sigh. "No matter how strong we become," the Representative was saying, "we will always need the support of those closest to us." She looked back at Trina. "Now go talk to Shamira. She has blood packs and a few donors down at the barn. It might do you some good to take in the night air and clear your head." Shamira nodded, and made her way over to where Shamira was sitting, flanked now by Clara and an insanely sexy, blond man who Trina had not yet met. "Uhm . . . hello," Trina said. "The Representative said that you might be able to help me . . . eat." "Right! You're the Princess's bodyguard. How's being a vampire treating you?" Trina gripped her hands, trying to think of something glib to say, but nothing came to mind. "It's okay. It's hard waking up in a new body. I get that." Shamira glanced sideways. "Oh, you've already met Clara, but this hunka-hunka burning love is Sebastian." "Do you always get such a nice introduction?" "Only by the people that know me," the man said, giving her a grin that would melt a lesser woman's knees. He looked like he would be more at home on a surfboard with ocean water glistening on his broad chest than sitting around a feast hall in southern Georgia. "You're not a vampire, are you?" "No, I'm a --" Sebastian grinned and then looked at Shamira, then back to Trina. "You're not afraid of any particular animals, are you?" Shamira grunted at him. "It's been a year. Can't you just let it drop?" "I think it's perfectly reasonable to make sure that we don't have a repeat performance of that night. Ever again." "I'm not all that fond of cockroaches, but that's about it. Could someone explain what's going on?" Shamira stood up. "I kind of used to be afraid of spiders. A lot. Then Mister Werespider here," she said, waving a hand at her companion, "had to go and sneak up on me --" The Best Medicine Ch. 06 "I tapped you on the shoulder!" "-- knowing full well that I hated spiders and that I knew he turned into one --" "I had never met you!" "-- so I might have panicked a little --" "You knocked me unconscious!" "And then jumped up on a chair and screamed like a little girl," Clara pointed out, giggling hysterically. Shamira took Trina by the arm and led her out of the room. "They're exaggerating." "No, we're not!" Clara called after her. Trina felt a little better, in spite of herself. "You're really not what I was expecting." Shamira opened a door for her. "How so?" "You're Shadow Wing. You're supposed to be big and mysterious. Instead you're . . . kind of normal." "I'm not sure how to take that," Shamira replied with a grin. "I don't mean it in a bad way." The other vampire shrugged. "Didn't have a whole lot of say in the matter. Some ancient lizard decided that I fit the criteria he wanted for his 'living embodiment,' and here I am. I had barely gotten used to being a vampire, and then I had to be a dragon? And raise dragons? It completely sucks. I never get to spend any serious alone time with any of the doms --" "Doms?" "Dominants. Versus submissives. They did tell you what goes on around here, didn't they?" "Right. That. Anyway, so you really don't like being a dragon?" "Oh, I like it okay. Took less time to get used to it than it took to being a vamp." Trina cocked her head. "Really?" "Yeah. I mean, I knew about the Greater Dragons a little. When I started gaining all of the Shadow Aspects and all, Shane at least warned me that it could happen. When I became a vampire, I didn't even know they existed." "Wait, I thought that wasn't possible. Aren't you supposed to be prepped or something?" "Shane made an exception. I saved his life, or at least thought I did, but it pretty much cost me mine. I used to be a cop, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, maybe the right place at the right time, but anyway, I wound up getting shot. He decided that there was something he saw that was worth saving, he bit me and did the whole blood exchange thing, and there it was. I went into the afterlife, and came back with Moon Dragon power. Freaky." "Seriously? You'd never heard of vampires before?" Shamira held the door to a large structure open. "Nope. I woke up in a silk lined coffin, thinking I'd been buried alive." "Woah." Trina walked through the door. "Real silk?" "Yeah, I was surprised too." "Posh." "We still have the coffin back at Shane's estate. It's pretty sweet." Trina was about to say something else, but then she saw what else was in the enormous room with her. Across the way, Aodh was sleeping on a pile of shiny rocks which Trina was convinced were jewels. Next to him was a brown-skinned dragon about fifteen feet long with horns projected from above its eyes. And its feet seemed to be moving -- "Be quiet," Shamira said. "That's Nu. I think she's dreaming about hunting. And those two," she added pointing towards the indoor beach that bordered the Atlantic, "are Jörmungandr and Raz, our Sea Serpents." "They're huge!" "Yeah, and they're gonna get bigger. Archimedes says that fossil records show that they can be two-hundred yards or more. Then the gray one over there is Stomper. He's Stone Dragon, and he's gonna be a hefty boy. Ehecatl is our Quetzalcoatl, and he's hiding somewhere in those crates over there. He and the Sea Serpents don't get along, but Aodh's gotten better at keeping them all in check. I've got a couple of blood donors who all the beasties respect that help too, but tonight's their anniversary so I ordered them to go out to dinner." Trina was just staring. "They're all so . . . so beautiful." Shamira sighed. "Yeah, they are. And they're a royal pain in my ass. This way. We've got a lot of blood packets in here, since I spend most of my time around the kids." "You really don't like being a momma dragon?" Shamira rolled her head, thinking things over. "I love 'em. I really do. But it seems from the moment I got turned into a vampire, I've never had any time to just adjust. I went from human to vampire, from sexually repressed to . . . well, NOT sexually repressed, from single to dating someone sixty years older than me, from enforcer to dragon caretaker, and it's all just hard. There are a lot of days when I just don't think I can deal anymore." Trina sat in a sterile plastic chair, then closed her eyes. "So how do you survive? How do you cope? I keep thinking I'm going to go crazy. This isn't my body, this isn't my face or my voice. It's not even my species. No elf has ever been converted into a vampire. Ever." "Honestly? After every time I got knocked down, I did the only thing I knew how to do." "Which was?" "The same damn thing I had done the day before. I just live my life as best I can so that I can look myself in the mirror just before dawn and tell myself that I did all I could." Shamira grabbed a blood pack out of the mini-fridge and popped it into the microwave. "Trust me, a major physiological change doesn't mean that you aren't who you were, or at least not the 'who' that really matters. I can look at my own reflection and see a dragon, a vampire, a woman, and they're all right, but they're not . . . well, they're not ALL. I'm more than any of those things." Trina bit her bottom lip, feeling a pinch. "Ouch!" Shamira smiled. "Your nose is reacting to the blood, and it's triggering your fangs. Happens to all of us." The battle-dancer ran her tongue over her new fangs. "Freaky." Shamira got the blood pack out. "Okay, your mind is going to seriously revolt against this, but I promise you that you'll be over it by the end of the first sip. Live donors are better, so find someone who you trust, but packs do in a pinch." Strangely, drinking blood was not as hard as she expected, and Trina was grateful to have some alone time with Shamira. The vampire dragon woman had been through so much, and it encouraged the former elf to know that this woman had made it through. Shamira talked about her adjustments, including dealing with increasingly dangerous powers, responsibilities as an enforcer, and even her relationship. "Really?" Trina was asking. "Yep. Clara actually being attracted to me freaked me out more than almost anything. I had never really let myself think that I might be into girls back when I was alive. And that anyone would look at me and think that waking up next to me all the time was freaky. Of course, I was still getting used to this notion that wanting to be dominated was okay." "Why wouldn't you think she wouldn't like you like that?" Shamira pulled up the sleeve to her robe and flexed her arm. "Because most humans are intimidated by a woman with fifteen-inch biceps." "Humans are weird that way." Trina made a sighing motion, then realized that she had no breath to pass through her lungs. "So is it all worth it? All the rest of the crap that you've had to go through?" Shamira nodded. "When I was probably as low as I could get, Clara was the one who reminded me that I wouldn't change a thing, even the things that hurt." "How long does it take to get over the things that hurt?" This time, the living incarnation of the last Moon Dragon just shook her head. "Did they tell you? What happened to me?" When Trina nodded, Shamira continued. "Don't tell anyone, though Clara already knows, but I sometimes wake up in the middle of the day, and I'm right back there. Hanging in a bleeding room, my body only being held together by the skin and scars . . . I don't know if there are some things you just don't get over. You survive them, then try and deal." "Like knowing what the sound of your own neck snapping is like because you heard it with your own ears and performed it with your own hands?" Shamira gave the vampire a quick, understanding hug. "Yeah, even stuff like that." The two of them stepped outside the barn to head back to the feast hall, but Shamira put her arm across Trina's chest. "Those two look familiar to you?" It took a moment before she got her eyes to adjust, but Trina was able to make out the distant forms of Baron Montain and his chief "advisor," a cold and dangerous elf named Torris. The Baron was gesturing wildly and whispering heatedly, though at that distance, even vampiric hearing could not make out the words. "I hate that man," Trina whispered, keeping her eyes glued on the Baron. "That's the guy the King wanted Vanesse to marry, and he's even more politically backwater than the King is." "You gonna get in trouble for badmouthing the monarch?" "Vanesse is the true monarch. The current King is just a place holder. Besides, he keeps pointing out that I'm not an elf anymore, so I can say any damn thing I want. I just wish that I could hear what they're saying." Shamira grinned. "Leave that to me. My Shadow Aspects can be somewhat useful." Trina watched as Shamira stepped back into the shadows, then vanished completely. "Okay, that's kinda cool." The battle-dancer waited patiently for Shamira's return, which was not long. "Sorry, but they were almost done by the time I got over there." "How did you --" "I can basically move and hide through shadows. Perks of being a pseudo-dragon. Anyway, that Torris guy was basically apologizing for 'not getting there in time' while the Baron was mad at him for 'blowing their chance to nip this problem in the bud.' It was all pretty much variations on that theme." "I know it was him. The Baron and his like have the most to lose from the Princess taking the throne. Most elvish nobility opposes the concept of integrating with the human race. Vanesse's parents were very progressive on that subject. I think they would have supported the Tribunal on this, and Vanesse is too much like her parents, no matter what the King has tried to do." "What do you mean?" "The whole thing behind her 'Alaskan retreat'? It was bullshit. He hid her up there when she was too young to object, and he's been trying to make her into a the kind of Princess HE wants." "Which is?" "Complacent. Someone who will provide the new king with nice elf heirs and keep her mouth shut." Shamira scrunched her eyebrows. "I've known her for like a few hours, and even I know that won't work." "You'd be surprised. She was having all sorts of confidence issues, and it took her a long time to stand up to her uncle. But yeah, I think she would never have been as easy to control as they thought." "Sometimes," Shamira said, seeing some conflict in the other vampire's eyes, "all a person needs is the support of the right person. You've done everything you could for your Princess, including dying. Trust that you did it all for a good reason." Trina nodded. "I should talk to Vanesse about this." She followed Shamira inside to find that the feast hall was in a state of chaos. Vanesse was standing in the center of the room. On one side of her was the King. On the other side, the Shepherd. The elvish representative to the Tribunal was yelling at the top of his lungs, as was his counterpart. Vanesse was just looking from one to the other, angry as all get out but unable to get a word in edgewise. The Alpha had arrived, and the burly werewolf was basically in conference with Farmer, trying to persuade her not to get involved. "-- the arrogance!" the King was shouting, a little louder at the moment than the Shepherd could manage. "Are you going to deny --" "Be very careful about any accusations you make," the Shepherd interrupted. "This whole thing reeks of --" "Both of you, SHUT UP!" the Princess screeched, her voice breaking at the higher notes. Her notes seemed to strike a chord, as both of the elder elvish statesmen actually stopped and stared at her. "I cannot . . . ooh, I cannot believe the two of you! I'm standing right here, but you're both arguing about me like I'm a five year old! No, not even a child. I'm just a possession to be squabbled over." "Vanesse --" the Shepherd started, but Vanesse cut him off. "No, you don't get to pretend to be familiar. Let's just forget the last fifteen years, because we know why you haven't been around for that part of my life. What about before? I might have been a lot more willing to talk to you if you'd been there for me EVER!" "Princess," the King said, "this is hardly the time --" "And YOU!" she said, getting in the King's face. "Filling my head with your stories of an anti-elf movement that no one but you has ever heard of? Making Trina lie to me? Separating me from the world in hope that you can make me into another one of your little anti-integration drones? And don't tell me this isn't the time to discuss it, because you two were the ones who started bringing up family laundry in the middle of a spirits-damned feast hall!" "I think that you've said quite enough. Now you will go to your quarters and --" "And what if I don't?" The King's face was turning an unflattering shade of purple. "I am the King, and you are --" "The Princess! The RIGHTFUL heir to the throne." "How dare you?! You are twenty years from the throne, and until then, I am your sovereign ruler!" Vanesse pulled herself up to her entire five feet, five inches in height. "You are a royal place-holder." For a moment the world slowed down, as the King's look of indignation led to a raising of his hand. He looked like he was actually going to slap the Princess. Then his hand came down -- *SMACK!* When the King's hand struck skin, that skin was pale, cold, and unmoving. Faster than anyone could even see, Trina had positioned herself between King and Princess, letting herself be struck. "You!" the King said. "I should have you executed for this!" "You were about to strike the Princess," Trina replied quietly, "and an unprovoked physical attack on ANY member of the monarchy is an offense that can be punished by life in prison or death." Then, Trina's voice took on a tone that was filled with shadows and ice crystals. "And until I'm completely dead, no one lays a hand on the Princess without her permission. Not even you." "Trina?" the Shepherd said softly. The elf-turned-vampire lowered her head. "Shepherd. How --" "How did I know? The Representative told me about you being transferred into a vampire's body. But even without that, I know you. I know how you look when you're protecting her. You started the day she was born." "Guards, take this vampire --" "King Ralisen," the Shepherd said, "I know elvish law. If you had struck the Princess, those very guards you want to call would be obligated to put YOU in chains. You might want to consider thanking her for stopping what might have been your last act as monarch." The King did not look like he wanted to thank Trina. Not at all. If anything, his eyes were peeling away layers of her skin and scorching the flesh underneath. Her hatred for him was being returned tenfold. She had just humiliated him . . . the King. And for the moment, there was nothing he could do. Nothing except -- "Princess, I apologize. It appears that I am not in my right mind at this point. I suggest that we all retire for the day." He stared a hole in Trina's skull. "It will give me time to contact the Academy and request your new battle-dancer." He turned and walked away, his guards in tow. The Baron glanced over his shoulder once, then followed his King. "Princess --" the Shepherd said. "Not now," Vanesse said, resting her face on Trina's shoulder. Her new hair was soft, and smelled of violet. "Princess, perhaps the King is right about getting some rest," Lord Stapleton said, feeling obvious relief that he was not going to have an elvish civil war break out in Banshee's house. "Vanesse, why don't you go to your rooms? See if Farmer might like to join you." Vanesse looked up, confused and alarmed. "What about you?" "The Shepherd and I have a few things to discuss, I should think." Trina turned and looked into her friend's eyes. "I won't be far, Princess. No matter what he says or does, I'll be there when you need me." "I know." Vanesse turned and walked away, with most of Joker's Wild as well as Aven and Neva, and with Bunny and Banshee leading the way. Others began to filter out until the only ones left in the room were Trina, the members of the Tribunal, and Lord Stapleton. "Are you all right, Lady Trina?" Shane Staleton asked. "That was a brave and impetuous thing you just did." "I'm fine. Really. I didn't mean to bring this trouble to your door --" "Don't mention it," he told her. "I've had Shamira in my house for over a year now, so I'm used to the trouble caused by the 'brave and impetuous'." "Lord Stapleton," the Representative said, arching one immaculate eyebrow, "Leave Shamira alone. Unless YOU would like to take care of several multi-ton ancient reptiles --" "I was not complaining," Shane replied with a smile. "Just making an observation." He offered the Representative his arm. "I believe that Trina would like some alone time with the Shepherd. May I escort you to your room?" After the twosome had disappeared, the Alpha looked at the Shepherd. "They're going to go and --" "Yes, they are." The massive werewolf sighed. "I'm gonna go find the kitchen and fix up a couple burgers. Want anything?" The Shepherd's gaze was on Trina. "No, but thank you." And a moment later, it was just the two of them in the room. "She doesn't hate you," Trina said, sitting down in the middle of the abandoned hall. "She's just really angry at you." The Shepherd pulled up a chair. "She has every right to be. Her life hasn't been easy recently, has it?" "No. But she's tough. Tougher than the King thought she would be." "And what about you?" the Shepherd asked gently. Trina's smile was not as forced as it might have been an hour earlier, but it was not easy. "I'll get by. I'm still not sure how it happened, but I guess I'll just have to deal." The Shepherd leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Your Word was simply too strong to break." Trina rolled her eyes. "Can't be. Battle-dancers give their Words all the time." "But none of them gave it to the person rather than the crown. My theory, based on what the Representative and Lillian have told me, is that your will, the Dancer in White's blessing, and the circumstances of your Word all contributed to your death-defying behavior. When a battle-dancer gives his or her Word to the crown, part of the typical script is that the crown will release you upon death. You were given no such out in your Word." "That can't be it. Can it?" "Trina, many beings forget just how powerful words can be. They have slain kings, toppled governments, and changed the very course of history. When you gave your Word, you were not thinking of changing the world, but the people who DO make such changes rarely plan them in advance. You have kept the Princess alive and safe, and you have been the rock she needed when the rest of us could not." Trina smiled, a little more genuinely this time. "I wish her parents were able to see her now. I think they'd be proud of her today." "I think they'd be proud of both of you." The Shepherd leaned back. "You were as much their daughter as Vanesse. Vanesse may have inherited her father's will, but you . . . you remind me so much of her mother. She could be so ferocious in one moment, then so gentle the next. One side steel, one side silk." Trina thought back as hard as she could, back to the moment where the elvish guards had removed her and her fellow captives from the dog-pen they were being held in, presenting Trina in all her anger to the woman who would be Queen. Vanesse's mother was probably the most beautiful woman Trina had ever seen, and she just grinned at Trina when the young girl held up her sharpened bit of bone, intent on protecting herself to the very end. The Best Medicine Ch. 06 "I think I like her," the future Queen had said. And that had been that. Trina had been cleaned up, trained, and then given the duty of watching over the inheritor of their royal blood. Trina's smiled faded, causing the Shepherd to ask what was wrong. "I love her. I love Vanesse." The Shepherd sat quietly for a moment, a little bit stunned. He was not sure why, but he was not as surprised as he should have been. "Does she know?" "Yes. And . . . please forgive me, but when we shared her mind we . . . became intimate." "In . . . her mind?" "Yes sir." "And she consented?" "Of course. I could not imagine trying to force --" "I never said you did, nor could I believe such a thing of you. If she consented, then what is the problem?" Trina looked up. "I'm her . . . I WAS her battle-dancer. I could not afford to compromise her safety for my own selfish urges." "I seriously doubt your urges were selfish," the Shepherd said, smiling warmly. "And had you not felt the way you did about her, then you might NOT be here with us today. And maybe you should look at being fired by the King as a blessing. As Vanesse's battle-dancer, your dalliances with the Princess would not have been tolerated. Now, as her friend, you could pursue a role as a consort." He paused. "You do realize that now that she understands the rules of her necromancy, she will need multiple partners." "I would never stand between her and any pleasurable experience she seeks to pursue." Trina felt like blushing, but her body apparently had no such reflex anymore. "I just want to be one of them." She furrowed her eyebrows. "I thought you'd be angrier." "Why? Because you desire my granddaughter? I disapproved of Vanesse's mother at first, and look how that turned out." "You did?" "I thought she was . . . well, a tad impetuous." "That word is getting thrown around a lot tonight." The Shepherd outright grinned. "Yes, well anyway, I think that I learned my lesson after that. I will not question the romantic choices of any of my lineage. Except for Tarrin, of course. His wife is a shrew." Trina snickered. "She does have a serious stick up her butt. I . . . woah," she said, feeling a bit dizzy. The Shepherd looked at her closely. "The sun is rising, and this vampire's body is very old and vulnerable to sunlight. You won't be hurt, but you're body is shutting down for the day. Let me help you to where you'll be staying." He stood up and helped her to her unsteady feet. As they headed towards the door, it opened. "Jack?" Trina muttered, her eyes a bit blurry. The muscular werehyena grinned at her. "You think switching bodies was going to make me go away?" "I was hoping," she mumbled, but inwardly, she felt quite pleased. Her interplay with Jack had been more fun than she wanted to admit, and she had missed it. "The Princess sent me to make sure she got back safely. I didn't know you guys would still be talking. Sir," Jack added unsure how to address a member of the Tribunal. "Then I am in your debt," the Shepherd said, handing Trina over. "And tell the Princess --" "She said she'd talk to you tonight," Jack interrupted, trying to talk while keeping Trina on her feet. "Then for the message, I am doubly in your debt." Jack escorted Trina back through the hallway and towards the Princess's rooms. "Don't try anything funny," the former battle-dancer said. "Everything I SAY is funny. I'm just a funny guy." Then more seriously, "You're pretty damn amazing, you know that? The world takes a crap on you, and you're still at your post." "What a horribly romantic image." "Hey, I'm a regular Romeo." As Jack reached for the door, Trina put a hand on his wrist. "Jack?" "Yeah?" "Thanks. For everything." A look of exaggerated surprise appeared on his face. "You? Thanking me? Okay, now I know that the real Trina has been replaced." Trina forced herself to sigh, then dug one foot into the ground and hip-threw Jack down the hallway. "You are so hot when you do that!" he said, his eyes wide. He had barely seen or felt her move. Trina suppressed her smile as she went inside. Instantly, Vanesse appeared, stepping over the sleeping forms of her werehyena guards. Farmer was in the bed, but it did not look like anything carnal had been occurring. "Tonight, I just want to sleep," Vanesse said, reading her friend's thoughts. "Now get undressed and come to bed." "But Princess . . . Vanesse," Trina started to say, then realized her friend was paying no attention to her objection. In fact, the Princess was stripping Trina's clothes off. "Hmm, I like your old body better, but this one is nice too," Vanesse said, trying to sound objective. A now naked Trina flopped onto the bed. "Breasts are too big. Gonna make it hard to fight and zzzzzzzzzzz." Trina had fallen asleep mid-sentence. Vanesse smiled, then climbed back into bed, her arm draped over Trina's waist, while Farmer scooted closer and put her longer arm over them both. And for the first time in a long time, Princess Vanesse Bellethial slept well. --------- ------------------- The next night . . . --------- ------------------- Vanesse sat quietly in a small conference room, fidgeting with the sleeves of the gorgeous robes that Lord Stapleton had provided. Farmer stood outside the door, along with a dozen members of Joker's Wild, as well as the Alpha. Those two being in close proximity to each other had made Vanesse nervous, considering how close the two had come to a fight for dominance. But Farmer did not want the Alpha's position, and she acknowledged to him that she had little to no chance of taking it. A bottle of beer and a show of respect was all it took for the two to start talking like old friends. The Alpha's other "old friend," namely the Shepherd, was sitting across the table from Vanesse, quiet and still as only a polished politician could do. He was nervous, but he did not show it. Vanesse wore her emotions on her immaculately sewn sleeves. The Princess opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut quickly enough that her teeth clacked painfully together. She was angry, and her parents had taught her to never start a -- "This isn't a negotiation," the Shepherd told her. "If you need to yell at me, go ahead." "I'm not giving you or anyone the satisfaction of me breaking down," she told him. "You think I'm going to take satisfaction from your pain? Therein lies the difference between your uncle and I. We have both wronged you, as you so eloquently pointed out. The difference is that I did not mean to cause you pain or distress, and feel guilt that I did." Vanesse gripped her fists, then relaxed. "Can you be honest with me? As in, stop being an elvish politician or Tribunal member and tell me the truth?" He sighed. "You want to know what my involvement is in your kidnapping, don't you?" She grimaced. "I want to know if you really tried. You know, to get a hold of me? Did you even consider trying to lay claim to me? I needed you," she added, her voice trembling. The elvish statesman closed his eyes. "I wish I could say now that I had. But I didn't. I did not imagine at first that Tarrin would keep me from visiting you. He did at first, right after your parents funeral, but then . . . But I had so many responsibilities that I allowed myself to become blinded. Then when I wanted to visit you during Festival, he told me no. I was stunned. I appealed the elvish council, but they had granted sole custody to the King, and I had no power to do anything." "You're a member of the Tribunal!" "And the entire Tribunal would have supported me if they could. But your uncle broke no inter-species or Tribunal laws. While we have absolute power in some cases, we cannot violate any races sovereignty without just cause. Tarrin rejected every overture I made until you were twenty, and then . . . then you started rejecting them on your own." Vanesse looked shaken. "He told me that you didn't care. He never said it outright, but he said that you were 'too busy' or 'couldn't be bothered.' He said that you didn't do anything when Mom and Dad . . . when --" She stopped, trying to compose herself. The Shepherd's calm, almost subdued visage took on a much darker, more menacing tone. Someone seeing him right then would forget that he was old, even for an elf, or that he was a politician by trade. They would see a very powerful, very focused sorcerer who had once ruled the elvish race with absolute authority. "Didn't do anything? The cabal that had my son and his wife assassinated had violated so many laws by engaging in slavery that I and the Tribunal had been hunting them for years. I found the man who had ordered the execution. I personally ended his screaming by crushing his throat." And for a moment, Vanesse was afraid of her grandfather. She believed him. His voice belayed a rage that simply could not be fabricated for the Princess's benefit. And in her life, she hoped never to see it again. Not from the older man who had once bounced her on his knee, looking on in strange delight as she giggled and held on to the balloon he had brought for her. "You had that much power, then why didn't you find me sooner?" "The laws of the elves and the Tribunal --" "To the hells with the laws!" Vanesse said, standing and pounding the palms of her hands down on the table. "I'm you're granddaughter. Mom and Dad would have come for me, and to hell with the laws." "Please, calm down. As I said, I tried --" "You sent letters! Formal requests! If you really wanted to see me, you wouldn't have been writing up proposals as if they were territorial disputes." The Shepherd stood up. "I have been looking for you with every resource at my disposal." "Every resource you could use without getting caught, you mean," Vanesse snapped, her eyes tearing up despite her brain's orders for them not to. "I know how elvish politics works. Uncle Tarrin made sure of that part. You could do anything as long as it wasn't open and honest." The Shepherd turned away. "I don't get to choose which laws I obey, Vanesse. I simply do not get that luxury. Once you join the Tribunal, you MUST put aside personal feelings. But even then," he added, his voice softening again, "I never forgot about you. I did what I could until I simply couldn't take it anymore. Then --" "Don't say anything," Vanesse whispered. "I would hate for you to say something now that got you into trouble." The Shepherd's shoulders rose and fell, and he turned back to his granddaughter. "I broke the rules to look for you. I won't implicate anyone else --" The Alpha stuck his head in the door. "It was me. Just in case you were wondering. Guess who I sent?" When the Shepherd shot him a withering glare, he just shrugged. "What? She ain't stupid." "I was trying to . . . oh why do I bother?" "I dunno," the Alpha said, then stepped back and closed the door. For a moment, there was silence. Then, Vanesse snickered. When her grandfather looked at her, she could not help but smile. "I think I understand now what Trina must feel dealing with me. She tries to protect me, I screw everything up." "I think that Trina is far more potent of a protector than I am. That, and the Alpha is considerably harder to kill than . . . well, anyone except possibly Shamira." He walked around the table, sat down next to Vanesse, and dared to take her hand. "I failed you. I had no idea how to act, or how to balance my life and my duty. All I have left to say in my defense is that I never meant to hurt you. I knew that you still had Trina, and I had faith in her." "It was hard on her too. She's been through so much --" "And I know her well enough that she doesn't regret it. She never saw looking over you as a 'duty' or a 'job.' She was thrilled." "She . . . I . . . our relationship has gotten complicated." "So I gather. She told me how she felt." "Did she? Took her long enough to tell me," Vanesse grumbled. "I've known her longer. She was a good kid. She's a good woman, and I'm glad that you too are as close as you are." Vanesse felt a little surprised, but strangely elated. "Really? Even though we kinda . . . you know --" "I'm not your uncle. I'm not your parents either, and I'm not Trina. I just want you to be happy, and I want you to be successful. Most importantly, I would like you to give an old elf a second chance." The Princess leaned back in her chair and gave him a shrewd once-over. "If I say yes, it's only because Trina still likes you." "Then that will have to do." The Shepherd stopped smiling though. "And I want you to know that I truly believe that your uncle had nothing to do with the attacks on you." "He had too much opportunity --" Vanesse started to agree, but she was silenced by a hand. "No, it was not a matter of opportunity. Tarrin is many things, but not a murderer, and he believes in the crown and royal blood. More than anyone, perhaps. He would never take the crown by assassination." "Do you still love him?" Vanesse asked, remembering that the King was, like Vanesse's father, this man's son. "Of course. I feel the need to borrow a human expression, which is, 'I don't like him, but I love him.' In his own way, he is just as invested in the future of our race as your parents were. Unfortunately, too much of his 'future' is based on the past." Vanesse decided not to mention her own reservations about assuming the throne. The moment was actually too nice for that. "So," the Shepherd said, feeling more light of heart than he had in ages, "we have fifteen years to catch up on. Where should we start?" Elsewhere, Trina was stirring from what had turned out to be the most restful sleep she had ever experienced. She sat up and stretched, feeling a surge of relief as every muscle found its proper level of tension and then relaxed. 'At least Natasha was in good shape when she died.' "Hubba hubba!" She managed to roll her eyes without opening them. "And just like evening breath, why can't I wake up without you around?" Jack chuckled. "Just figured you'd want someone around to explain that the Princess is off talking with the Shepherd, so don't worry that she isn't here." "I CAN go for more than five minutes without seeing her. Besides, I know where she is." "Battle-dancer voodoo?" "Battle-dancer voodoo." She glanced around. "I really need some new clothes, and a bath." "Some men find the natural smell of a woman enticing." Jack took a deep sniff. "But sometimes, good hygiene helps." "I'm getting odor complaints from a hyena? What's the world coming to?" "If you want, I can scrounge you up some new duds that compliment your rockin' body while you take a shower." Trina pulled her shirt out and stared down. "Damn, I miss my old body. My abs were killer." "Yes, but now you have an enormous rack." When Trina glared at him, he shrugged. "Just putting it into perspective. And now, you'll never have to do another crunch in your life. Because it won't change anything." "I like crunches!" Trina grumbled loudly. "They're relaxing." "You are so weird." She stood up and headed to the shower, where she stripped and cleansed every inch of skin. "Huh," she muttered. "I don't have to shave anymore." She glanced at the area between her thighs. "Not bad." She emerged to find Jack leaning against the door, and a neatly piled set of what looked like leathers. She raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't blame me. I was just told that these would, A) fit you and B), look damn fine. You know that Lord Stapleton and Sheriff Banshee both have their own personal tailors?" "Doesn't surprise me." Trina started to literally pour herself into the garments. The pants hung low on her hips, enough so that underwear really wasn't practical, and there was some elastic in the crotch that actually blended perfectly and allowed for full range of movement. Then, there was a black leather lace-up corset that left her abdomen partially exposed, which was incredibly snug and pushed her new C-cup breasts up for easy viewing. She also had a black choker collar, a pair of leather vanbraces, and some pretty stylish leather boots with gold buckles on the sides. "At least they didn't give me heels." Jack looked her over appreciatively. "I told them to give you something else. Figured you'd hate footwear that you can't fight in." "Like I can fight in this? Without my tits popping out?" "The lady said that it's actually pretty good at keeping everything in place. Did I mention how hot you look?" "The puddle of drool at your feet says it all. Really, was this the most practical thing they had?" Trina's eyes narrowed as Jack stared at his fingernails. "You suggested this?! You son of a --" The door slid open and the Representative stepped in. "Lady Trina, you look well." "I look like a hooker," Trina replied, then her eyes widened in surprise and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. I forgot --" The ancient vampire gave a sly, almost wicked smile. "I have heard worse language. And you look nothing of the sort. You look . . . dangerous." Was that a hint of desire in the Representative's voice? Trina convinced herself that it could not be. Still -- "I was hoping you might accompany me to talk with Archimedes. Seeing as your situation is unique, we wanted to see how your reflexes measure up to the age of your body." "Which involves?" "Running, stamina, strength tests. The like." Trina looked down at her well-displayed bosom. "Again, in this?" "You can't always pick your outfit before you find yourself in a fight. Consider it a challenge." Trina grumbled as she followed the Representative out, but she had known she would. She couldn't resist the word "challenge." It turned out to be a really great stress reliever for Trina. When she was doing shuttle runs, it was discovered that she actually was moving faster than a mortal would even be able to see. It turned out that she was also capable of lifting a shiny new Hummer, though Lord Stapleton was less than thrilled by that exercise. And to her surprise, her tits never popped out. "You're beautiful to watch when you're moving," Shamira said. She had taken a break from dragon sitting to come and watch the newcomer strut her stuff. "Is that the whole 'listening to the music' that Jack tried to explain." "Jack trying to explain a graceful fighting style is like an elephant trying to give tips on weight loss --" "Hey!" "-- but yeah. I'm just so grateful that I can still hear it. I wasn't sure that the Dancer in White would let a non-elf listen." "Further evidence that your primal spirit is not displeased with you, I should think," the Representative said. "Everything's a fable with you, isn't it?" The ancient vampire looked at Trina, smirked, then turned away. Just then, Trina heard a ringing in her ears. It was rapid, high-pitched, and could be mistaken for nothing but an alarm. "Vanesse?!" she shouted, honing in on the Princess's position. All eyes were on her, but Jack was the first to speak. "What's going on?" "Vanesse is in trouble!" she shouted, peeling out through the garage and towards where she knew her friend was. Instantly, the compound was roused and everyone was looking for Princess Vanesse Bellethial. Jack was on his push-to-talk, trying to get a hold of Farmer, and Banshee sounded an all-hands-on deck. Trina burst into the bedroom where she sensed her friend, only to find Vanesse sitting on the bed with a towel around her delightful curves, one around her head, and that was it. "Eek!" Vanesse screeched, throwing her teacup into the air and jumping to her feet. Then, her towel fell off. She screeched again and grabbed it, covering all the vital parts as quickly as possible. "Trina, what the hell --" The Best Medicine Ch. 06 But Trina was paying no mind to her Princess's words, and she was looking around wildly for the threat. "You're in danger," she said, matter-of-factly. "I'm naked!" "You can be both." "I am not in danger, now would you all please get out of here?" Farmer walked up. "What's going --" Trina turned on her. "Why did you let her out of your sight? You know how much danger she's in!" "I was down the hall, she was taking a shower, and there was no way anyone was getting by me without me knowing," the matriarch of the pack growled. "What the hell's gotten into you?" Trina looked around again and began to panic. She did not see the threat. She just -- The Shepherd, who had arrived and stood in the doorway, stared at the frantic elf-turned-vampire. "Trina, calm down. Trust your instincts. Do you still hear whatever it is that you hear?" She nodded. "It's not as loud, but it's still there." She wished that she could take a deep breath, but she had not learned how to make her lungs work. It was not something she normally had to think about. "I swear, I'm not making it up." "I believe you," Farmer said, trying to get her own temper under control. "After what you pulled the first time you got shot? I think you deserve the benefit of the doubt." Trina felt a surge of grateful relief. She just needed to think. The sound had gotten louder until the moment she had burst through the door, then something had happened to diminish the danger. She looked for something that did not belong. Vanesse, her clothes, the sheets, the decorations, the . . . "Farmer, no one got by you?" "Just the serving lady with the tea, and she was on the list of safe visitors." Trina reached for the teapot that was still sitting on the table, and the alarms in her head turned into a full orchestra doing "Ride of the Valkyries." "The tea," she said. Farmer grabbed the pot and took a deep sniff. The first time, she just looked confused. On the second inhale, she began to look angry. "There's something there. I wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't been sensing for it." She looked at Banshee. "Got a werewolf or something with a better nose?" "I'll do one better. Clara is a shaman, and she can can break apart the natural from any possible toxins." She gave the pot to one of her enforcers and sent him to Clara. "Now, I need to find that server." Finding the middle-aged woman was not as hard as expected. She was lying in a pantry just off the kitchen, a stab-wound to the heart. And shortly thereafter, they received word from Clara that the tea had indeed been poisoned. "Princess," Banshee said, her head bowed, "I apologize for what happened. I cannot believe that one of my own employees would have made such an attempt." The King, who had been pacing furiously, stood straight. "Save your worthless apologies. Such a complete failure on the part of your security will not be tolerated. "Princess, gather your things. We'll be leaving." It was the Princess's turn to look angry. "No, WE won't." "They have failed to protect you --" "Trina protected me, as always," she shot back pointedly. "And your guards in Alaska didn't exactly make the grade either, did they?" "There is the possibility that the would-be assassin had no idea what was in the tea. Vanesse, did you order anything to drink?" Lord Stapleton asked. "No. It was just left here when I got out of the shower." The Shepherd looked to Banshee. "Might I advise that no food or drink be delivered to the Princess without its preparation being overseen by --" "You have no right to interfere," the King sneered. "I'm giving him the right," Vanesse said. "And I'm not running. Whatever problems you two have, you deal with them. Someone's trying to kill me still, in the most heavily fortified household on the planet. Unless someone snuck in and headed straight for the kitchen --" "Then it was someone already here," Banshee said. She pulled out her walkie-talkie. "As of right now, the grounds are under total lock down. No one enters or leaves the property without my say-so." She looked at Sebastian. "Double all patrols. Report any suspicious activity directly to me." "You are completely incapable of --" the King started to say, then Banshee set her eyes on him. "The presence of an assassin on these grounds presents a threat not only to the Princess, but to four members of the Tribunal. So unless Lord Stapleton decides to supersede my authority, then as the regional sheriff, I am taking charge of this situation. My power comes directly from the Tribunal, which supersedes all others. Including yours." "How dare --" "I dare because I serve a cause greater than my own ego," she said shortly, then turned to leave. "Sheriff Banshee," Vanesse said, "I'm sorry. About the woman." "Thank you. If she is shown to be innocent, then her family will be compensated." Then Banshee left. Lord Stapleton leaned over and whispered to the Princess, "She is really angry." "How can you tell? She looked just the same." "I've known her for two centuries. I promise you, the moment she gets out of eyeshot of everyone, something will get broken. She rarely unleashes her rage in public." He glanced at Shamira for a moment, who was whispering something to Clara. "You don't want to be in her way when that happens." "What does she do?" Vanesse asked. "She kills everything in her path without quarter or mercy. She doesn't even bother asking questions. Whoever did this, on her turf, making me look bad while also endangering her friends . . . this may wind up qualifying before it is all said and done." Vanesse looked towards where Banshee had exited. "She's as dangerous as I was told." "My favorite metaphor is that of snow. Beautiful, even delicate looking, but once she begins to move, very few things on earth can stand against her." He then sought out the King. "My apologies, your Majesty. Banshee has taken great affront to the attempt on the Princess's life. Now that we've locked down the property --" "You cannot actually mean to keep me here against my will?" the King said. "I can call the entire elvish empire on this house --" "And if you do," the Shepherd said, stepping in front of his son, "it will be considered an act of aggression against the Tribunal." "Oh good grief," Vanesse said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Why don't you all just whip them out and compare lengths." All three of the men stopped and looked at her. "What? It was an expression that Farmer taught me. It means --" "I think we are all aware of what it means," Lord Stapleton said, trying not to smirk. "Anyway, this is to some degree irrelevant. King Ralisen, regardless of your own reservations, I still feel just as safe here as I have anywhere else. I will not run from this threat a moment longer." She looked at her grandfather. "And stop trying to turn things into an international, interracial incident just so that you can justify your involvement. Just because I am interested in renewing our familial friendship and relationship does not mean that I want you riding to my rescue 'in the name of the Tribunal' every time you see fit. The King was right about one thing, namely that you chose to join the Tribunal and thereby left, for all intents and purposes, the elvish royalty. I believe your reasons were just, but it does not change the facts of things." She turned to look at Shane. "You . . . well, you've actually been very courteous. And you look magnificent in that suit." "I consider myself suitably chastised." She turned away, then back. "Oh. 'Suit-ably.' Ha-ha." "Normally, I have others do the comic relief for me." "Now everyone, out of my quarters! Except Trina. And Farmer. And Joker's Wild, of course. Oh, and could Bunny and Lillian stay?" "Anyone else?" Vanesse smiled sweetly. "No, that's fine. Unless Shamira wants to --" "Shamira would love to have a slumber party," the muscular vamp in question said, "but she's getting called back to the barn. Apparently, the Sea Serpents and the Quetzalcoatl are having yet another territorial dispute." She looked to Clara. "Seriously, two of them live in the ocean and the other is from Mexico. Why are they fighting over that stupid thing?" "Some children have blankies," Clara explained, as if to a child, "Ehecatl has a rubber raft. It just happens to be Jörmungandr's and Raz's favorite pool toy." "Shamira doesn't get to have 'normal' conversations very often, does she?" Vanesse asked after Shamira and Clara had left. "Not very often," Lillian replied. "So, did you wish to speak with us about anything in particular?" Vanesse sat down and crossed her hands. "I think that I have a plan that might end this whole mess sooner rather than later, but tactics," she said dryly, glancing sideways at Trina, "have never been my strong point. As someone in this room has pointed out. More than once." "I took your queen with a pawn. That snuck up on you," Trina reminded her. "That and continuously running into danger when I tell you not to." "You're going to hold that against me forever, aren't you?" Trina raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who made me immortal." Then, to add a touch of sophistication, she stuck her tongue out. "Nice clothes, by the way," Vanesse said at last. She let her eyes linger on those soft, full breasts, then they slid down around the hourglass figure to the leather-clad legs. Trina glanced at Jack. "NOT my idea." "Well whoever's idea it was, damn good job. Do you think I'd look good in something like that?" "Yes," responded absolutely everyone in the room at once. "Really?" "Really!" "Hmm," she murmured. "You know, something like that might help with the plan. Who do I need to talk to get myself a new outfit. I'm willing to pay --" "I think that Banshee would be more than happy to lend you her clothier," Trina said, "now what is this plan?" ----------- ----------------- A few hours later . . . ----------- ----------------- It turned out that Banshee's clothier had an outfit identical to the one Trina was wearing, but in a beautiful emerald green color. And when someone suggested that Vanesse wear a green silk g-string underneath to give a "whale tail" effect, she became completely drool-worthy. It got Trina excited just looking at the woman. It also made her nervous. "I don't like this," she told her friend as she helped brush out Vanesse's beautiful white-blonde hair. "I know you don't. But I can't keep going on like this, looking over my shoulder for the next attempt. Whoever tried the poisoned tea came after me and killed someone else right under the nose of the King, the regional lord, and the Tribunal. An innocent person died just because of her proximity to me. You don't need to tell me that it was not my fault, but I'll be damned if I'm going to sit around and wait for it to happen again." She turned and faced the new, dark eyes of her battle-dancer. "What would you have me do? Hide like the little girl the King thinks I should be?" Trina, at that proximity, could practically hear Vanesse's heartbeat, could smell the Princess's delicate perfume and the slight nervous sweat underneath, and could almost taste the woman's lips from three feet away, so answering became a labored process. "Would you hate me if I said 'yes'? Just this one time?" "No, but you know damn well I'd ignore you. This one time. I need to fight this battle, Trina. You made me ready for this. You and Farmer and the pack. This is me getting ready for my future, and that means I need to play their game. Again, this one time." "I can't stop you," Trina whispered, leaning against the bathroom wall, "and I'll do whatever you say. But I don't have to like it." For a moment, Vanesse had doubts. The last time she had ignored Trina's advice, Trina had nearly paid the ultimate price, saved only by the intervention of providence. Then the Princess shook off the doubt. She would, in her life, sometimes have to take risks, even if the results broke her spirit in half. "I know. But I'm going to do it anyway. I want to sleep in peace, I want to learn everything that the King did not want me to know," she said huskily, stepping closer to Trina, who could not back any further away. "And I want you with me the whole time." She cocked her head, exposing her neck. "Have you learned how to bite people yet?" Trina's mouth dropped open a bit, and she felt her fangs lusting for that skin. "No. And not you. Never you." Vanesse felt herself growing flush as her anger reared its ugly head. "Why? Why are you so afraid --" "You are, first and foremost, my Princess," Trina said, trying to scoot sideways. "It's my job and my duty to keep you from bleeding, not to cause it." "You know damn well that a good vampire bite is considered to be one of the most erotic sensations one can experience," Vanesse said sternly. "Bunny likened it to 'the ultimate rush.' So unless you're saying that you don't want to experience in the flesh what we experienced in my dreams," she said, pushing herself up against Trina until their faces were just an inch apart, "then I will have your teeth inside me. You've sustained me my whole life, so you WILL let me do the same for you." "Princess --" "And dammit, stop calling me Princess!" "--Vanesse, we should go and get ready for your announcement." "Are you trying to run away from me?" Vanesse asked, almost amused by the prospect. Trina's eyes were almost all black now, a definite sign of vampiric arousal. "If we don't go now, I'm not going to be able to hold back much longer, and I'll be doing things to you that will prevent you from walking straight for a week." Vanesse's breath caught in her throat, which she cleared with a deep breath that made her tits rub against Trina's. Did she really need to do this right away? "When this is done --" she started to say, then slowly peeled herself away. Then, her body had other ideas and pushed itself against the voluptuous vampire and Vanesse kissed Trina with everything she had. Trina's fingers dug into the wall behind her as the inferno-like heat that Vanesse's mouth seemed to have turned into flooded her senses and warmed her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her teeth started to expand, just long enough to touch Vanesse's bottom lip before that saucy vixen pulled away. "So don't think of going anywhere," the Princess whispered. Only a week or so earlier, she had been terrified of sex. Now, she wanted it so much that it hurt. And she knew in her heart that she wanted Trina . . . the old and the new parts of her . . . to be intimately involved. She licked her lips hungrily, then walked out of the bathroom, leaving Trina in a state of almost painful arousal. The group made its way out to the feast hall, where Sheriff Banshee's people were getting ready for Vanesse's "state of the elvish kingdom" magical broadcast. The King and his entourage were already there, and his eyes almost popped out of his head like cartoon comic devices when he saw what Vanesse was wearing. "Princess Vanesse, what do you think you're doing?! I order you --" "You cannot order me to do anything, your Majesty. You may be King . . . for now," she added with a hint of mischief, "but I am the one person in our kingdom that you have no real authority over. The moment I turned twenty, you lost the right to decide my life." "This is outrageous!" the Baron said. "Your Majesty," he said, turning to Tarrin, "surely you can --" He stopped when the King shot a cold look at him. "My apologies," Baron Montain added, not sounding sorry at all, "I forgot my place," he added, looking at Vanesse with pure venom seeping out of his eyes. "Princess, I must insist that you consider the image that you are putting forward to the world and to our people," the King said through gritted teeth. "Do you really want to look like a --" He stopped, looking for the right word. "Slut?" the Princess provided. "Whore, perhaps? Or maybe hussie? I prefer 'liberated' myself," she said, walking up to the podium that faced the circle where the far-speak spell would be cast. It was a spell that could transmit her words and image to the furthest reaches of the world, for anyone willing to listen. "Princess, I demand that you --" "I suggest you take your places, she interrupted. "I want to get this speech started." She heard rather than saw the King moving quickly towards her position. The King would be expected to stand with the Princess, though she was expecting him to try and hijack the transmission somehow. She would not let him. Quickly, she glanced at Lillian, who was aiding Clara and the pixie sorceress Corament in prepping for the casting. The redheaded necromancer met her gaze and winked. Things on her end were ready. "Start the spell," Vanesse said, just as the King, the Baron, and the elvish "problem solver" Torris took the stage behind her, struggling to make themselves presentable. A glowing blue circle appeared in front of her, so the Princess began to speak. "To all those who have chosen to receive this far-speak and to let me into your lives for a moment, I thank you. My name is Princess Vanesse Bellethial, heir to the Elvish Crown, and niece to King Tarrin Ralisen. As many of you well know, I have recently been in a dire situation where I was kidnapped, taken from personal retreat by the most disreputable sort of criminals. I have since been rescued, and thank all of those who attempted to aid me during my time of need." Her voice took on a darker tone. "But there is more to the story. Someone out there in the world sought to take advantage of the chaos and put a bounty out on my life. This bounty caused me to be hunted by evil men, and it resulted in great harm and pain to those in my company." She took a breath, then skipped into the next part of her speech. "Based on testimony given by captives taken during the course of my flight to the lands of Lord Stapleton, it is believed that the individual responsibility for the death bounty was actually an elvish royal who sought to derail my ascension to the throne." Behind her, the King gasped and his eyes shot open, while the Baron's skin went unusually pale. Torris barely blinked, though his eyes hardened. Vanesse continued. "I did not understand why at first, but then it occurred to me that whoever would do such a thing thought that I might follow in my parents' footsteps and prepare the elvish people for the future rather than the past. I have since learned of the proposed Unveiling, which my parents would undoubtedly have supported. Therefore, so will I. "As a result, I find myself re-evaluating the way in which the elves live. How can we possibly join the modern world with as outdated a governing system as a monarchy? The most successful civilizations on earth have moved towards versions of a democracy, and I feel that, in order to remain competitive and vibrant, so must we. I shall not let some backwater noble afraid of change stop me from doing what I must. "I am not your typical elvish royalty," she continued. "I have seen much recently and, with the help of an entire pack of werehyenas as well as a very good friend, I have enjoyed such experiences as any young necromancer could possibly hope." She resisted the urge to grin as someone behind her became positively apoplectic. "And I intend to continue gathering such experiences, as often and as exotic as possible. "But that leaves me with the question of what to do with my Kingdom? I have come to the conclusion that the elvish people are in something of a bind. On one hand, you have a King who has grown somewhat stagnant and old-fashioned in his belief system --" "Now wait just a moment --" the King started to say, but Vanesse ignored him. The Best Medicine Ch. 06 "-- or a young, politically inexperienced woman who seems to lack the character or personality required to maintain the throne. Well, how about a third option?" And here came the big part. "I have decided to return to Europe immediately after this transmission and request of our courts that I be accelerated to the Crown. After that, it is my intention to dissolve the monarchy and make way for an elvish democracy." Behind her, someone was making choking sounds, and she could hear someone else grinding their teeth. "Furthermore, I believe that in this new democracy, we will have a chance for a truly blank slate if, and only if, we start from a level playing field. Therefore, I will insist that ALL nobles forfeit their titles in preparation for --" And that's when it happened. Baron Montain glanced at Torris, who in turn leaped into action. In less than a heartbeat, he had taken a step forward and drawn a knife, pointing the barbed tip at Vanesse's back. He took another step and pulled his arm back. Then, he plunged the wicked weapon in the Princess's defenseless back. Well, not quite. The iron blade punctured flesh, but not the smooth skin of the Princess. Torris looked up and found himself looking into the eyes of a very, very angry vampire. "Torris," Trina said, her voice cold with rage and pain, "you and your master have some explaining to do." "Baron Montain, what has gotten into your man?" the King said, looking utterly bewildered and more than a little angry himself. Rather than receive a response, he heard the Baron muttering a spell and gathering his will. "Baron? What are you --" But before the Baron could finish, Farmer got into his face and grabbed his hands. "Don't . . . move." Torris was back-pedaling and pulling out another dagger, this one silver. Unlike some, he was not easily intimidated or unnerved, and he had already failed his master once. He would not fail him again. Trina felt a burning pain in her stomach where the knife had punctured her, and there was a poison flowing through her system as well. But the wound, which would have killed an elf, only hurt her new vampiric body, and the poison was no concern. Her eyes closed, the time measuring less than a single blink, but it was all she needed to hear the music. First came the violins, with the sound of violin bows pulled screechingly across taut strings, while the deeper cello played somberly in the background. Then her feet began to move, each a cymbal clanging against the floor, followed by the high pitch of the flutes as her arms swung forward in search of their prey. Torris was no fool or pushover, and rolled backward, kicking his feet up to the bleeding spot of Trina's stomach, letting the music come to him as well. He had twice the battle-dancer training that Trina did, and he was comfortable in his own body. Trina was still learning to use hers. Trina grunted as the boots struck her, and the instruments tumbled over each other's notes as she righted her frame of mind. She heard the whistling of Torris's dagger coming for her throat, and she stepped back just far enough that it passed her throat with only millimeters to spare. She stepped and threw a spin kick at the back of the elf's head, but Torris felt it coming and wheeled away. "Baron, I order you to stop your man now!" the King shouted, waving his guards forward to break up the scuffle. The Baron, whose wrists were still gripped by a pissed-off werehyena, looked almost sad as he addressed his King. "I am sorry your Majesty, but I cannot. Your whore of a niece cannot be allowed to reach the throne, especially now. I knew that you would not be able to look past your own compassion, so I ordered what I knew needed to be done." Suddenly, the Baron's hand began to glow blue, and Farmer released him with a snarl of pain. The Baron stepped back, and Farmer followed. Then the Baron finished a quick spell, and he, Farmer, Torris, and Trina were surrounded by a force wall that no one was able to penetrate. He had used the very circle used for the far-speak spell to accommodate his own plans. Of course, he was surprised that Farmer was still standing. Mage-fire should have roasted her arms off. The King looked on helplessly as the fight in the circle continued. Around him, every available spell-caster was attempting to breach the wall, but Baron Montain was no lightweight. He had more than one mage duel in his life, and for good reason. "I will not allow the elvish people to be further tainted by a monster such as you," Montain growled, preparing a force bolt that would blast his opponent into tiny bits. "Taint her? All I did was bend her over and fuck her brains out," the werehyena replied, beginning to shift into her half-form. Before she could finish, a blast of energy sent her barreling into the force wall with such velocity that her bones should have been turned to jelly. "Farmer!" Vanesse screeched outside the wall, moving around so that she could see her friend through the glowing barrier. Then she saw Jack and Alani nearby, and they were grinning. "What are you --" "Just watch," Jack said gleefully. Slowly, Farmer sat up. Rather than being obliterated, she looked . . . irritated? "Pointy-eared rat fucker," she growled from her hyena head. She stood up and flexed her now massive muscles. Montain was astounded. "What the --" That was when Vanesse remembered something. Even in her half-form, there were tribal tattoos that covered most of Farmer's body . . . her skin glyphs. All the werehyenas had them, and the longer you were a member of Joker's Wild, the more of them were given magical protections. Farmer was immune, or close to immune, to almost every spell that the Baron was likely to throw. As Farmer approached the Baron, Trina and Torris were putting on a display, a lethal dance where one would take a bow, and it would simply be curtains for the other. "You are magnificent," Torris said, skipping back and managing a small cut to Trina's forearm. Trina ignored the pain and the silver-poisoning. It would not be enough by itself to do anything more than make her sick, but it still hurt like hell. "I wish I could say the same." Torris smiled, but it was not a warm or friendly gesture. It was condescending and evil. "You are also an abomination, unworthy of the love of a true noble. Or even a whore posing as one." He ducked as Trina sent a wild punch at his head, then nicked that arm with his knife as well. "It is a shame that you are too stubborn simply to remain dead. If you had not already dispatched them, I would be forced to take issue with the wolf-pack that I sent to kill the Princess. You know, the one that killed you instead?" For a moment, the only sound Trina heard was the cracking of her own neck. Then she jumped straight up and barely missed the stab that had been homing in on her heart. It was a blow that would have killed her new body instantly. Torris had the advantage, and slowly pushed Trina back towards the wall. She was unable to make sense of the music now, the sounds overwriting and conflicting with one another like a elementary school band and orchestra trying to play the classics on their first night of practice. She was cut again on one arm, then her ear was nicked. She was losing. She was going to die. Again. "Trina!" That one voice penetrated the darkening fog that had been settling in on Trina's vision. Vanesse's voice. It was beautiful and clear, ringing through Trina's very being like church bells on a warm Sunday morning. She had almost died to goblin bullets, causing the Princess to hurt. And Vanesse knew how her friend had felt in her soul when she thought Trina lost forever. 'I'm not going to die,' Trina thought. 'She needs me. I won't put her through that again.' Torris saw confusion in his opponent's face, then tried to ram his dagger through the girl's eye. Trina saw the blade coming almost as if it were slow motion. She slipped to the side, and she heard the ivory keys of a piano punctuating he steps. She spun past the thrusting blade until she was behind Torris's body. She grabbed the iron knife from his belt, pulled it out, and then -- *BONG* At the same time, both Torris and Trina heard the death bell tolling. Trina smiled, and even cried tears of blood as she aimed her captured weapon. This time, the bell did not toll for her. Faster than light could travel, the iron blade punctured the back of Torris's skull and sunk into his brain. As the elvish assassin's body sank to the ground, Trina's eyes met Vanesse's and the Princess had such a look of relief, joy, and . . . love? If not love, it was something so close that Trina would accept it with all the heart she could spare. Montain was desperately trying to evade the monstrous claws and powerful jaws of the werehyena matriarch, casting spell after spell to keep distance between the two. Many people mistakenly saw hyenas as scavengers, when in fact they were among the most dangerous predators in Africa. True, they sometimes ate carrion, but they also brought big game down with those powerful jaws. Compared to some animals, Baron Montain was not that big. "You brought pain and fear to one under my protection," Farmer growled. "You caused pain to my pack." She reared her head back and laughed. Her bark echoed through the hall, and the barking laughter of Joker's Wild responded. Vanesse had heard this sound before, and it held no good intentions here for Baron Montain. "Would you just --" the Baron started to say, but he was cut off when he was bum-rushed by the slavering nightmare of a beast that led Joker's Wild. She hit him so hard that he crashed into his own force wall, and the bystanders on the other side heard the crackling of bones. But Farmer did not play with him for long. Hunters that did not finish their prey off quickly often did not eat, and Farmer's mind was ruled by her hyena. She grabbed Baron Montain and crushed his throat with her trap-like jaws, letting the last of his life's blood trickle between her teeth and onto the floor. The room went quiet, and the force wall ended as its caster breathed his last. "What have you done?" the King asked, looking at Farmer while in a state of shock. "You --" "Ate one of your nobles?" She actually licked her teeth clean, then shifted back to her human form. "I just solved a problem." "I should have you --" Vanesse stepped up and glowered at him. "Do not blame Farmer for seeing the snake in the grass that you were almost standing on top of. The Baron all but confessed to the plot against me, and he certainly meant to kill me tonight." The King's eyebrows furrowed. "You meant for this to happen, didn't you?" Vanesse breathed a sigh. "Yes. I suspected the Baron. We knew from the poisoning that my would-be assassin was desperate, so I simply pushed the envelope and created a situation that would be too hard for him to resist." "So you drew him out and aired the dirty laundry of our entire kingdom --" "Good grief!" Vanesse said, throwing her hands up. "After all this, you're still more concerned with appearances than with the fact that your 'trusted advisor' was trying to kill me?! Well if it makes you feel any better, I'll let you know that Lillian," she said, waving at the necromancer, "messed with the spell." Clara looked at her fellow spell caster. "You what?" Lillian looked sheepish. "I changed a rune or two. The only ones who heard that message were a group of militant were-penguins in Antarctica. And they're kind of stand-offish." The King let out a deep breath. "So all those things you said were lies? And this form of dress --" he started to say, indicating her less-than-conservative clothing. She looked him dead in the eye. "I am not going to ask to be made Queen, and will wait until my fiftieth birthday, as is tradition. But know this, your Majesty. I am giving you twenty years to remind our people why they once revered their royalty and its crown. Because when I become Queen, I will ask if they want to remain a monarchy or become a democracy." "And if they choose the monarchy?" She nodded. "Then I will step aside and allow you to remain King, and my only claim to the throne will be if you die without an heir." The room was so quiet that the crickets were afraid to chirp. "Come again?" the King asked. Vanesse looked at the few elves present. "Our people deserve a good monarch. That means someone who is both capable and willing to lead them. I have realized that I do not have the strength of character nor, if truth be told, the desire to be Queen. My parents were good monarchs because they possessed all the necessary qualities, but blood is simply a poor substitute for actual ability. You have shown the desire to lead, so I will give you the opportunity to prove that you deserve to lead." She looked over to where Trina was struggling to remain standing. The former battle-dancer was too stubborn to ask or even allow herself to be helped, but she looked hurt and tired. "I do not yet know my place in the world," she said, her smile perking Trina up a bit. Then Vanesse looked at Farmer. "I have had an offer to see part of it, which I intend to take up in the not to distant future." This made Farmer smile, but the Princess was not done. "But for now, I intend to stay here in Georgia and hopefully be taken on as Lillian's apprentice. There is much about my own magic that I do not even remotely understand, and it would be careless and dangerous for me to continue living in ignorance. If Lord Stapleton would allow it --" "Of course," the powerful vampire said from the high dais. "You are welcome to enjoy the hospitality and protection of my House, though I would prefer you not spring any more surprises like this on me." He glanced at Shamira out of the corner of his eye. "I have HER for that." Shamira tried to glare at him, but it broke into a grin that was returned by her Lord. Vanesse moved to Shamira's side. "If you insist on getting me a new battle-dancer," she said softly, "then I insist that all candidates be interviewed by the new head of my personal-security. Trina will be given final say." "But --" the King started to protest, then simply sighed. "Very well." He looked at his niece as if this were the first time he had ever seen her. "This is really what you want?" She smiled at her Uncle. "I don't know exactly what I want," she said, then looked at her best friend, then at the members of Joker's Wild, then on to Lillian and Bunny, "but I'm beginning to get a good idea." -------------- -------------- A week later . . . -------------- -------------- "It's good seeing you!" Vanesse said, throwing her arms around Farmer's body in a flying hug. Joker's Wild had been flown back up to Canada and had retrieved their bikes, then promptly decided to road-trip all the way back down to Atlanta. Vanesse and Trina had moved up to Atlanta from Savannah so that the Princess could stay near her new mentor, and she was pleased as punch at the progress she was already making. Trina had recovered from her wounds, and was being trained in the vampiric arts and ways of life by the Representative herself, who had taken an interest in the one-of-a-kind elf-turned-vampire. "It's only been seven days," Farmer growled. "I know you can't get enough of all this," she added looking down at her athletic body, "but still --" "I have, in fact, very much looked forward to getting some of this," Vanesse purred into Farmer's ear while her hand stroked Farmer's crotch through her jeans. "Good grief, when did you get so good at that?" Vanesse grinned. "You started it. But hanging around this House? Some of Lord Stapleton's people make you guys look puritans. Of course, most of them do the bondage thing, which I'm not into, but --" "What about Trina?" Farmer asked, looking around for the woman who was normally acting as the Princess's shadow. Vanesse almost instantly began to pout. "She's being difficult. At first, she wanted time to recover from the silver wounds. Then, she wanted to concentrate on moving up here, and then . . . ooh, it's like she's avoiding sex with me, but not avoiding me personally! I know she's interested, so why --" "Because she's nervous," Alani interrupted, stealing a hug from Vanesse. "Of what?" Farmer grinned. "She's got you all to herself, and now she actually has to think about what might happen and how things are going to work. It's not like she's hopped up on adrenaline these days." "You think that she's worried about losing me? How completely --" "Reasonable," came the vampire's voice. "Hubba hubba!" Jack said as Trina slipped into the room. He immediately picked her up, hugged her, and fondled her ass. She responded by headbutting him, causing him to let go, then grabbing HIS ass. "Not bad," she said, then turned to Vanesse. "Sorry, I just woke up. Stupid vampire sleep schedule," she grumbled. "Trina, are you really still afraid of what might happen? With us?" Trina actually looked a bit embarrassed. "A little. I know we talked about this, but I just found myself realizing that my life might actually turn out okay, and that's scary. It's kind of like winning the lottery. I don't know what to do with it." Vanesse's smile returned, and it resembled the one she had given Farmer earlier. "I think you know what to do, if the time we spent in my dreams is any indicator." Trina actually grinned, then looked at Farmer. "See? She's impossible to live with now. She's pretty much horny all the time, and --" "Well I might not be if you would just DO something about it," Vanesse interjected. "-- and she's been talking about what she would do when you all got down here." Farmer's grin was so wicked that it would have made the devil blush. "What would that be? Exactly?" Vanesse bit her bottom lip, then caressed the outline of Farmer's cock through her pants again. "I want you." "And that's new . . . when?" The Princess smiled and actually blushed. "All of you," she added, looking around at the gang. "At once." All the members of Joker's Wild began letting out excited, laughing barks. "You want to be gangbanged by the whole squad? That'll cure what ails ya?" Vanesse nodded, kissing the side of Farmer's neck. Trina hadn't been kidding. Now that she understood her powers a little better and had experienced what sex was and had come to grips with her own desires, she was almost constantly aroused. She had been masturbating like a fiend for the last week, and she wanted more. "Now." Farmer's grin didn't break when she calmly said, "No." Vanesse's eyes shot open. "WHAT?!" Behind her, the gang of werehyenas began to whimper. They could smell Vanesse's desire, and they wanted a damn good reason why they couldn't have her after she had "Not until you two take care of some unfinished business," the matriarch said, glancing from Vanesse to Trina. "You're not serious? In a garage?" the vampire asked, her eyes on her best friend. Watching her dry hump Farmer had gotten Trina a bit excited herself. "Not only am I serious," Farmer replied, "I think that the gang should get to watch. Just to make sure that you go through with it." Vanesse practically mugged Trina as she wrapped her arms around the vampire's body. "Being watched? Sex with you? Don't you dare say no." The last of Trina's resistance crumbled. She was not exactly a prude herself, and seeing this side of Vanesse, this uninhibited and life-enjoying side -- Trina lifted Vanesse off the ground and pressed her mouth against that of her dearest friend. She wanted to kiss the Princess so much that it hurt. This was her flesh . . . well, her new flesh . . . against Vanesse's. It was no dream, but it was turning into one. She gripped the elf's soft round ass and held her closer than her own skin. She wanted to be closer, slipping Vanesse some tongue just to get inside.