Previous Episode | Read from the beginning
It was Malryn's least favorite day of the week—the day to go shopping to restore those supplies that he couldn't come by with other methods. Dressed in humble brown clothes to disguise himself as a poor peasant from the neighboring countryside, he strode along the long pathway from his forest home to the road and finally into the town, the same journey he had often made, with one difference. Veinblossom accompanied him in thick, ragged brown cloak with a large cowl to disguise herself, along with makeup and dirt smeared on her face to make her look more like a human peasant.
Together, they poked along the streets, looking more than buying although Malryn exchanged a few coins for food in his basket, trying to choose things that would best help him restore the blood that his spellcraft, and now his imp, drained from him. Veinblossom's curiosity was present but subdued; occasionally her eyes would grow bright as some object or another stirred a half-remembered memory, but she remained obediently silent, doing her best not to draw attention.
As they were meandering through the marketplace, heading for the herbalist to pick up a rare ingredient or two, an inquisitive-looking hound came trotting through the crowd, making a beeline for Malryn and his charge. Bounding eagerly up to the warlock, it sniffed intently at his robes. Veinblossom gave it a curious look; the beast shied from her a bit, but remained close to Malryn.
"Shoo! Get hence, you wretched creature!" the warlock hissed, lip curled with distaste.
As the hound continued to snuffle at Malryn's legs, a pair of stern-faced guards approached, one calling the animal back to his side while the other confronted the warlock, raising a hand before him in a "stop" gesture.
"Hold up a moment, man. There was a grave robbery near here recently... and we suspect cultists. The grave keepers detected remnants of foul magic in one of the crypts. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"No, I wouldn't happen to know anything about that." snapped Malryn irritably. The last thing he needed was to be accosted by these bumbling fools—he'd evaded them for this long, after all. Carefully, he backed towards the nearest alleyway, Veinblossom obediently trailing at his side.
The fat, moustachioed man heaved a derisive snort. "Oh, but I think you do. You see, this hound is specially trained to track down the smell of the grave and those that would defile it. Not to mention, we've seen your ugly mug in this town before, and you never had a little girl with you until today. Like to rob cradles as well as graves, scumbag?"
Malryn sneered, giving another venomous glare to the dog and backing deeper into the alley and drawing his ceremonial blade from its hiding place in his robes, thinking to cut himself for a spell; the guard assumed the blade itself was going to be turned on him and hefted his cudgel for a pre-emptive strike. Swung vehemently, the stick struck the Malryn with a nasty crack across the forehead, bruising and drawing blood as he was felled to the cobblestones, too dazed to weave any magic from his injury.
Veinblossom turned concerned eyes to her Master as his consciousness faded, but was distracted before having any chance to move to him. Reaching down, the bald guard gently lifted the imp off her feet, the cowl of her cloak falling forward to cover her face as her diminutive body was shifted. For a moment, she hung from his hands like a rag-doll, as if she too had been knocked senseless.
"You're safe now, little girl.... little girl?" the guard's reassuring tone turned to one that seemed none too assured himself as Veinblossom slowly turned her head up to gaze into his face, her crimson eyes catlike and seething with barely-contained rage. The cowl of her cloak fell back as she moved to reveal the tendrils of her head, writhing in agitation, seeming to keep a rhythm with the rippling inner glow in the crimson jewels of her eyes.
"YOU." she hissed in low, deadly tones, "YOU. HIT. MY. MASTER!"
With a shriek of rage, she threw herself at the man's throat, tearing into the mortal flesh with fingernails that had extended into razor-edged claws in her fury. His vocal cords slashed before he could scream, a bubbling gurgle issued from the stricken man instead. Blood gushed from the injury, some wasted before Veinblossom's long, hungry tongue could lap it away. Her lips locked on the side of the guard's neck where the gush of blood was the strongest, moaning into the obscene, gluttonous kiss as the rich life flowed out of him and into her craving belly.
"Demon! DEMON!" screamed the other guard, eyes rolling back in his head as tremors of fear gripped him. Beating down the local rogues was no problem for them, but these backwater guards, far from the mage-colleges of the great cities to the north and east, were ill-prepared for such an encounter with arcane power. The sounds of bustle and panic rose at the mouth of the alley, a woman's shrill scream piercing the air before the bystanders fled from the scene. Veinblossom couldn't care less about the interloper; her attention was fixed on the screaming guard.
"Yessss... I suppose I could answer to that title..." she purred, her voice deeper and more sultry than before now that fresh energy pulsed through her. It was a voice eldritch yet erotic, the true voice of the imp as she leaned closer to the other man, letting the first fall from her grip for the moment; he was already as good as dead with his lifeblood still pouring from his slashed throat, leaving the brain deprived of precious oxygen.
The moustachioed man pressed his back to the wall, shuddering before the figure that stood half his size.
"Do me a favor." purred the imp, a sultry look on her childish features.
"Y-yes...?" stammered the guard, a fleeting thought that he might survive passing through his thoughts at the imp's words.
"DIE."
The imp's little hand struck the man's stomach with astonishing force, claws ripping through leather, clothing and flesh to sink deep into his paunch. She felt trembling entrails around her hand, seized, and pulled, the man gazing down pale-faced and sweating with disbelief as he saw himself disembowelled before the shock of it brought him to his knees. Caressing his cheek with her bloody hand as if comforting a child, she took his head gently but firmly and pulled him to her, her fangs sinking into his neck moments later. Testing the flavor of his blood across her tongue, she contemplated its qualities; the blood of the one she was bonded to had a unique thrill, but she could not feast upon her Master the way she feasted now. The taste of death in her mouth now carried its own dark titillations; drinking a man out until no life remained in him seemed ever so filling, beyond what the quantity of blood could account for. Veinblossom was alive at this moment; she hadn't even realized how starved she had been before, sustained only by what her Master could provide from his own sickly body.
The crimson spills of blood trickled between the cobblestones, soaking into the ground and causing a keening wail of anguish to escape the imp's throat at the terrible waste of it all, her dexterous tongue licking the stone as she crouched low like a wolf at a fresh carcass. Soon, though, another pang pulled her regretfully away from her feast. Malryn lived, she could feel their bond in her still, and she had fed more than enough already. Casting a last wistful look at the heaps of blood and gore that had once been two men, Veinblossom returned to her Master's side, casting off the bloodied cloak she had been wearing, the dark stains soaked through to the ragged robe underneath.
Crouching next to Malryn, she whimpered like a loyal hound at her Master's feet, peering down at his unconscious form. He was definitely still alive, though his life energy was unsettled. Grabbing him by the shoulders, the imp focused her attentions inwards, a memory coming to her unbidden, and she knew what had to be done. Tearing the rest of her clothing away, she stood naked, the flesh of her back beginning to seethe until with a dreadful, painful crackling, a pair of fleshy wings sprouted from her body, a moan of pleasured agony escaping her as the strange sensation of the transformation overtook her. Flexing her new wings, she tested them out, beginning to flap harder and harder until she could lift the warlock from the ground despite her diminutive size. Although she tottered like an overladen bat, she rose higher, flying hastily back towards their lair and leaving the mangled bodies behind in the alley—nothing to be done about them now, she had to rescue her Master.
Despite the heavy burden of the warlock in her arms, the first flight of the imp's new body was exhilarating—such power latent in that small body! Now that she'd eaten, eaten properly for once, she was beginning to realize just how strong she was. Swooping high over the town, she circled, then winged off over the forest to land by Malryn's cabin, dragging the groggy warlock inside and tucking him into bed.
It was some time before Malryn finally groaned and heaved himself up, one hand pressing instinctively to the bump on his head as he attempted to get his bearings.
"What happened?" he groaned, his eyes turning to Veinblossom, who had remained close at hand.
Perched at the foot of his bed, the naked imp licked the last of the clotted gore from her fingers like a fastidious cat, her eyes lidded as she watched him. The wings had retracted back into her body, and she sat naked as usual, her little feet swinging back and forth idly like a pair of dainty pendulums.
"A little run-in with the local guards." the imp answered flippantly, her voice back to its childish tones.
"Did you kill them?" the warlock groaned.
"But of course. And they were delicious." Veinblossom licked her lips at the memory of their blood sliding down her throat.
"Fool imp... and I suppose you used your wings to return here, as well. Fool! Now they'll be swarming all over in search of us."
"Would you have preferred to have been captured then and there? You gave me no order." inquired the imp remorselessly, her lips pursed. The insults of her Master stung; it was not her place to offer any in return, but she was not obligated to enjoy them either.
Malryn groaned again, rubbing his head, and gave no reply.
"They were delicious..." mused the imp dreamily, ignoring her Master when he ignored her, returning to thoughts that she found pleasant.
"Yes, and now you've reached the next stage of awakening... we would have had to take care of that sooner or later, but if only under other circumstances!"
"Done is done." replied Veinblossom with a tone of practical dismissal. Humans were such addle-brained creatures. Sensing her Master's distress, though, she checked her hands for any last spots of blood, then crawled across him, bringing her face to his and kissing his lips. He was enjoyable... of course, that would be how she'd feel about any Master she was bound to. He was just the one she'd happened to be called by.
"We'll have to flee." muttered the warlock, distracted by Veinblossom's kiss, one hand moving to stroke her head.
"Then we shall flee." replied the imp patiently.
"We'll need disguises."
"Then we shall have disguises."
"Who is the Master here?"
"You are, of course, Master." Another kiss, slowly laid across his lips.
"Then act the part of my servant and do something about this accursed wound." growled Malryn, settling back with another groan.
"Oh! Of course, Master. Your will be done."
The imp was genuinely surprised; she had for the moment forgotten that the human was not only frail to injury but also slow and poor at healing, his flesh sluggish to mend itself, unlike her own. Falling silent, she set about finding Malryn's herbs and salves, choosing the proper ones with care before returning to apply them gently to Malryn's head.
"Do you desire any other comforts, Master?" cooed the imp sweetly in his ear once she had finished.
"I have a headache." growled Malryn, half-jokingly through his sour mood.
"Of course, Master. Have you other instructions, then?"
"Yes. Gather my grimoires and artifacts; stash them in the hidden place I have shown you. We may be able to recover them in time as long as they do not fall into the wrong hands. Once that is done, make ready for us to flee before this place is discovered. See that the cabin is made to look as ordinary as possible."
"Your will be done, Master." replied the imp, absorbing Malryn's commands before hopping down from the bed to go merrily about her work, always most content when she had something to do for her Master.
Laying back on the bed, Malryn closed his eyes, feeling the tingle of the medicine on his bruised and aching head. It was a long time before sleep overtook him; his mind tormented by thoughts of how he and his imp might best effect an escape from the wrath of the local authorities.
Only when the embrace of sleep led him to feverish dreams did the answer come.
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