taller than anyone she knew, but he had a thin frame and a block-shaped head, with a square jaw, blunt chin, thin Alexandrian nose, and domed forehead. His iron-gray moustache extended straight across his face from one prominent cheekbone to the other, and it matched his long, ropey, iron-gray hair. He wore his usual costume of black shirt, vest, and trousers under a black great coat with a black, low-crown, wide-brimmed hat, decorated with a blood-red headband, cravat, gloves, and rosebud in the coat's lapel.
Her anger evaporated as the adrenaline rush faded. "Hmph. I'll be sure to have that carved on my tombstone." She reached into a pocket of her shorts and pulled out a stopwatch. Shutting it off, she read the time.
"One hour, seven minutes. Getting better."
"Do not be complacent, Master, you still have much to learn."
She slipped the watch back into her pocket. "Such as?"
"This evening you fell for a simple misdirection trap."
"Did you cheat?"
He shook his head. "No, but I created a sound on one side, then moved to a perpendicular location to watch for your movement. As soon as I spotted you, I put myself in your path."
"I see. So, what would have been the best response, remain where I was?"
"At night, yes. Many beings can see your heat aura. The tree made good cover, though a thicket or clump of bushes would have been better. Still, I would have had to search for you to see you. As long as you were able to keep the tree between the two of us, I would have given up eventually and gone off to search elsewhere. During the day, however, your best tactic would be to approach the noise."
That surprised her. "Why?"
"The layer of the trap would no longer be there, and that would be the last place he would expect you to go."
She smiled and nodded. "Good point."
"Even so, you did do well. I only initiated the trap because I could not find you otherwise."
She felt proud, but in a teasing tone she said, "Then there's hope for me yet?" She sported a lopsided smirk.
He returned a toothy leer. "You may just survive to run the Caerleon Order after all."
She chuckled, but chocked it off when she saw five shadows detach themselves from the surrounding gloom.
"Vlad?" The shadows loomed closer and pairs of points of red light blazed.
"Vlad!"
The Vampire whirled about, his arms outstretched, ready for combat. He scanned the shadows as they advanced.
"Run, Master! Head for the house!" He threw himself at them and they converged on him.
She hesitated a moment, then turned and ran for the nearest section of cart path. Fear gave her feet wings, but she didn't careen blindly. She had matured quite a lot in the past year, and threats no longer terrified her, but she knew she wasn't yet capable of defending herself, and the thought of being killed scared her silly. She just had the presence of mind to imagine where would be the safest place to run to.
Another shadow appeared in front of her and she stopped short, feeling relieved. Vlad must have defeated the others and caught up with her.
"Why in such a hurry, my delectable one?" spoke a grating, cackling voice.
Shocked, she snapped the torch beam up to illuminate the speaker. It was hideous: a crone with a haggish face, including sickly greenish skin, pointed nose and chin, sunken cheekbones, and a huge mole; long, matted and tangled jet-black hair; a grinning mouth displaying needle-sharp teeth; and hands with long, spindly fingers terminating in iron claws. The rest of it was black and featureless, as if it was wearing a cloak or robe.
The hag hissed and lunged at her. She jumped back and threw the torch at its face. It raised its arms and batted the torch off to the side, but that delay gave her the change to summon Caliburn. The hag shrieked and flew at her again, and she swung the greatsword in a wide arc in front of her. Despite her fencing lessons and the fact that Caliburn was as light as her saber, she still wasn't used to its unwieldy size. Even so, the point sliced through the hag's belly as it descended on her. It screamed and doubled over, and she raised the sword to deliver the coup de grace.
The hag reared up; surprised, she realized it wasn't as hurt as it pretended. She tried to evade, but it was too close. It seized her by the throat and caught her sword hand by the wrist. Twisting it, it forced her to drop the sword, and then the landscape sped past her vision as if she was flying. Panic seized her as she realized the hag was spiriting her away, and she was powerless to stop it!
When the scenery stabilized, she found herself on the patio in her garden, just in front of the fountain. The hag flew up the steps onto the terrace and through the portico, startling the guards on duty. With its free hand it eviscerated those in its path while the rest hesitated to fire when they saw her in its clutches. It smashed through the double glass doors into the great hall as she heard a guard behind her say into his handheld radio, "Intruder alert! Director hostage!"
The hag flew out the room, across the gallery hall, and through the entry and servants' halls before moving up the corridor into the kitchen. The room was deserted, being the off hours between supper and breakfast. It snatched up a large carving knife before slamming her down onto her back on the table in the center of the room, and it drove the knife point into the wood to stand upright.
"And now, my pretty, can you guess your fate?" Its cackling voice came with a gust of foul breath. Using the claws of its free hand, it ripped her blouse and training bra, and tore them from her body.
"My sisters and I have suffered from the deprivations of your families for centuries." It removed and discarded her slippers.
"In you we see our chance for revenge." It ripped open and tore off her shorts.
"We devised a plan, in which my sisters would engage your servant while I stole you away to our lair." It pulled off her underwear, sniffed at it, then threw it aside.
"There we would slaughter and devour you!" It pulled the ribbon out of her hair.
"With your death, your families will be erased, your servant released, and your hated Order left in ruins." It removed and crushed her glasses, throwing everything she could see out of focus.
"Think of that; everything you hold dear, that threatens us, utterly destroyed!" It gripped the handle of the knife and yanked it from the table.
"But I thought, why should I share you with them, when I can have you all to myself?" It lowered the point until it was just pressing into her stomach.
"Think of that; to be devoured in your own kitchen." It let go with a cackling, maniacal laugh as it pressed the point down harder. It all happened so fast she had had no time to think, but as the hag finished its boasting hysteria flooded her mind and she made ready to scream in sheer terror. Her worst nightmare was about to become hideous reality!
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
Differel turned her head as far as she could as the hag whipped its head around to stare at the speaker, raising the knife in reflex. She recognized Phillipa Trumbo through her myopia, the station chef in charge of making pastries, coming out of one of the small auxiliary preparation rooms. She was also the cook in charge of the off-hours, if for no better reason than that was the best time for her to make her dishes. She was short, heavyset, and dumpy, with a swarthy complexion and dark brown hair, and she looked rather homely and plain.
"Do not interfere, mortal!"
"I wouldn't dream of it." Her voice was as heavy as her build, but not particularly deep. "But I'd prefer it if you didn't mess up my kitchen. The food preparation area is through there." She pointed to the opposite side of the room.
"Eh?" The hag looked where she point, at an open door that led into the scullery and laundry room. In her terror, Differel also felt confused. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
One of my own people, encouraging a monster to eat me?!
"Is that all you plan on having?"
The hag snapped its head back to face the chef. "Whar?"
"I'm sure it's none of my business, but she doesn't look big enou
gh to satisfy the enormous appetite you must have."
The hag glanced at her, as if wondering the same thing.
What is she doing!? It made no sense.
"In fact, she's not even suitable for an amuse, much less an appetizer. You should save her for last, to snack on as you enjoy your coffee."
"Is there anything else to eat, mortal?"
She wondered if the hag meant the chef.
"I have just the thing; I'll be right back." She ducked back into the preparation area and emerged seconds later, holding a pan. "I had been marinating this flank steak; I'd appreciate a gourmet's appraisal."
The hag fixated on the pan, and even through her myopia she could see it was drooling. "Give it to me!"
"Clear a spot on the table first."
The hag again rammed the point of the carving knife into the wooden top, gripped Differel by the arm with its free hand, and released her neck as it yanked her off the table. She fell to the floor and it pulled her to her feet.
Trumbo placed the pan in front of the hag, who picked up the steak and tore into it with all the gusto of a shark in a feeding frenzy. The chef worked her way around to where Differel stood beside it.
"Here, let me hold her, so you can use both hands."
The hag turned on her and shrieked, spitting flecks of meat. She jumped back and held up her hands. "Alright, alright, no need to get angry. I'll just go get the next course."
The hag went back to eating, and Trumbo glanced down at Differel. She was certain the chef had signaled her, but her face was too blurry for her to