Blood Tithe

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Tell me."

Dash was silent to the millionth-time repeated request of his charge. All he wanted to do right now was read his book.

"Tell me."

He hoped if he was quiet, held off for just a bit longer, Helm would give up and shut up.

"Tell me."

Helm sat just beside him on the bed. Perfect slapping distance.

"Tell me."

Dash snapped his head to look at him with such irritated fury, the slits of his eyes near invisible. "Would you shut your yap! I'm not telling you squat, so stop asking!"

Helm cringed, recoiling, but hiding a amused smirk behind his clawed hand. "Can I guess?"

"Can I put my boot in your ass?"

Helm actually thought about it a moment. "Do a man a favor and lube it up with lard first."

"For saint's sake!" Dash slapped his book closed. "Do you not have anything else better to occupy yourself with?"

"No. I was actually having a bit of fun just sittin' here...pesterin' ya."

"Go pester someone else!"

"But...you're the only person I can pester without getting my teeth kicked in." his tone was almost child-like, pitiful.

"That fact can be rectified." Dash's voice had quieted, flattened, and become lethally serious.

"Come on, old man. Can't I have a hint?" he nigh on begged. "Can I guess?"

"Go suck your thumb, why don't you!" Dash stood, unable to take it any longer. He tossed the book on the bed, hobbling across the room towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Helm was trying his damnedest not laugh.

"Out, before I stake you myself."

"Come on, I'm not all that bad, am I?"

"Bad enough to make me want to gamble." Dash admitted, a vice he had always cringed away from before.

"Oh? Yes, that's right, the races are this afternoon. Care if I join you?"

"Yes!" and then Dash was gone, having slammed the door upon his exit.

(-)

Fang woke in stages, the onset of a mild hangover being among the first sensation to creep back to her. There was a tightness in her hips hinting that she had slept in a funny position, twisted up and tangled in the sheets. She didn't want to wake up yet. She wasn't ready to face the headache, the head-to-toe stiffness, and she certainly didn't want to face the guy who bashed her face in with a chair...or did she dream that?

Fang pulled her forearm across her head after turning to lay flat on her back, groaning as she forced herself into awareness. She only bothered to open her eyes when she realized that something was smelling very good. It was warm, inviting.

Bard turned his head, his amber eyes falling on hers as he sat at the foot of the bed. He had a cup of something in his hand.

"Wassat," she mumbled sleepily.

"Coffee. Care for a swig?"

Fang didn't answer, but held out her other hand as if to answer.

"Ah-ah, sit up or you'll choke."

"Damn nanny." she twisted over onto her stomach in protest, but her defiance didn't last. It smelled too damn good. With another grumbled she sat up, one hand raking her scalp and the other reaching for the cup. "Why does my face hurt?" she needed to know if she did indeed dream that.

"I'm afraid yeh took a nasty spill last night."

"Oh, yeah." now she remembered. She had been blubbering like a fool, crying and carrying on, and tripped over herself. "Sorry you had to see that."

"It's nothin'." he dismissed. "I know you're not exactly feelin' at your best here recently."

"Thanks for understanding." she took a cautionary sip, her eyes closing slowly with a comforted sigh as the warm brew eased down her scratchy throat. "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

"Well," he tapped his chin, feigning reminiscence.

Fang braced herself.

"Yeh called me baby, shoved your tongue in my mouth and humped me 'til midnight...if'n yeh can call that stupid."

Fang almost spat out the small mouthful of coffee she had taken in. She put her hand over mouth, swallowing before she obeyed the initial instinct to laugh. "Gods, tell me you're kidding?"

"Of course I am," he confessed as if she didn't need to ask such a question. "Heavens, woman, I ken you had a wee bit more confidence in me."

"So your saying you would've stopped me if I tried?"

He was quiet, a gentle redness in his cheeks. "You was drunk, Miss Fang. It wouldn't have been right."

"That's not what I asked." she took another sip, her eyes forward.

He was quiet again, the redness growing. "I...I wasn't about teh let yeh sully yourself so, Miss Fang."

She laughed again, softly this time. Her eyes slid to settle on him and she held her smile. "You're all right, Bard."

"Oh, why thank yeh." he let out a breath as if relieved, the blush easing away from his cheeks. "Um, mayhaps yeh be wantin' more of that coffee?"

"Oh aye," she nodded, handing him the empty cup. "Gimme a chance to make myself decent."

"You're gonna need more time then?"

"Shush."

And the satyr snickered as he eased out into the hallway. When he came back he found her fully clothed and running her fingers through her hair to undo any knots. It was actually kind of fascinating for him to realize she didn't have to do anything to that wild mane of hers to get it to sit that way. When she was aware of him he handed one of the cups to her. He had brought two back with him, still wanting one himself.

"Anything interesting gone on yet this morning?" she asked, plopping down on the bed again.

"Eh, not really. Miss Lightning and the old fella stepped out an hour or so ago. Other than that it's been rather quiet."

"Wassat now? Light and Han? Where'd they go?" she seemed incredibly interested, her eyebrows near her hairline.

"I dinnae know. All I ken is that they left together."

"Oh," she started giggling low in her throat, suspiciously so. "That's too good. I knew it."

"Yeh knew what?"

"Nothing to worry about." she was still grinning like a happy cat, but didn't appear to be in a hurry to divulge anything going through her mind.

The two were silent for a time, enjoying their coffee. Bard started bouncing his leg, maybe due to how the lack of conversation made him feel a bit awkward. What was he still doing here, anyway? She was okay now. Well...at least she wasn't crying.

"Were you in here all night?"

The question startled him, coffee sloshing over the lip of his cup and onto his shirt with the sudden pause of his hand. "M-maybe."

She nodded with a smile. "You're not stalkin' me, are you?"

"I'm not what? Um...no, I dinnae think so. I just...thought yeh might've needed a wee lookin' after. I worry for you sometimes, yeh see."

She nodded again. Although she was inclined to believe it was more than just sometimes.

"Um...might I ask yeh a personal question?"

Fang lifted one eyebrow, looking at him sideways through narrowed eyes. "Maybe."

"Well, I'm just curious...from what I've seen, I've been wonderin'...you and your sister aren't blood relations, are yeh?"

"You guessed?" her expression softened.

"I'm afraid I failed teh see the family resemblance." he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "Not that it bothers me or anythin'...I was just curious."

"It's fine." she shook her head, taking a sip afterwards. "She's really my adopted sister. She was orphaned when she was...maybe two. My dad took her in."

"You grew pretty close, did yeh?"

"Very."

"What happened to her folks?"

"Some super flu." Fang's brow lowered, darkening her expression. "It just kind of snuck up on us out of nowhere...people just started dying. Took my mother."

"I'm sorry." Bard shrank a little.

"Don't be. But, my father went to check Vanille and her father, her mother had died shortly after child birth...couldn't stop the bleeding. Our families had been friends for as long as I could remember. But he found her father dead, and she was crying. Dad didn't hesitate to look after her."

"Your da really was quite the man, wasn't he?"

"No one better. He treated Vanille like she was his own blood, and so did I. But it was an easy thing to do for someone who loved us like she does. I don't think there's a bad bone in that girl's body."

"Aye." Bard sighed a little. "I ken I know now why it beats yeh up so much that she's here, then."

"I suppose you do. But that reminds me," she paused, looking at him curiously. "What are you still doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, well," he didn't expect the question, and didn't have an answer right away. "I dinnae see any really reason teh go. Besides, I'm neck deep in this as it is."

"Guess that's true. Sorry for dragging you down with us."

"Ach, no." he waved a dismissive hand. "Yeh dinnae drag me, I walked. I owed you lot anyhow."

"Still...thanks for hanging around."

"My pleasure. Although," he started, "I had been giving some thought to stayin' here. At least I did at first."

"What changed?"

"Just dinnae want to. Not my kind of place. I'm more the country lad, myself."

"Why not just go back home then?"

He finished his coffee, shrugging a little as he set the cup on the floor not too close to his feet. "To be entirely honest, I dinnae have one to go back to."

Fang looked confused as well as surprised.

"Glanwood is gone, my brothers and sisters...washed away in a flash flood some six months ago. As far as I ken, I'm the only one left from there."

Fang was speechless. What do you say to that? Although, she could relate in a way. Her birthplace was no more as well, and she was one of the last remaining from a bygone era.

"Been wanderin' quiet some time, trying to find my place, a new home...that's when I got the idea to come here, thinking maybe I would find somethin'."

"But you didn't?"

"Well, yes and no." Bard leaned back onto his hands, his eyes lowered towards the floor. "As it stands...I suppose you lot are my family now. Perhaps that's what made me ask the questions I have."

She looked into his eyes, seeing no lie, only sober reminiscence and vulnerability.

"I wanted teh know...I was hopin' there might be room for me. Even if that means swallowin' down my cowardice teh see this mess through to its end."

After a quiet, tense moment, Fang just shook her head. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Pardon? I dinnae ken what yeh mean."

"Why didn't you come right out with it from the start?"

"Oh well...I dinnae ken it was that important. I mean...there's nothin' to be done to change my situation, but all of you were tryin' so hard to change something while yeh could. It would've been rather selfish of me to try and disrupt that."

Fang found herself smiling, reaching over to muss his hair. "You're all right, Bard. For a sissy."

"I try." he laughed, the redness blooming back into his cheeks.

The two left the room together after that, going downstairs to return their cups to the bar, as well as figuring it was too late in the day to stay in bed any longer. They found Raul doing his usual morning routine of inventory and cleaning up. His partner was nowhere to be seen, which was a cause for slight alarm. Gods only knew what Francisco was up to when out of sight.

"Where did our fearless leader and the incredible sulk meander off to this morning, Raul?" Fang asked as she slid onto a stool.

"The races, actually."

"Come again?"

"Oh yes, every year during the festival. Today we're observing Mirri the Steward and Vasgoth the Fierce."

"Care to explain?" She lifted one eyebrow.

"Mirri, more or less, established the animal economy here in Arash. We celebrate her with races and falconry, dog hunting, things of that sort."

"Fascinating. And what about that other guy?"

"Saint Vasgoth is our patron of warfare, though our city hasn't seen war in a very long time. He's mostly known for erecting the barrier wall, but he was a great warrior as well. We honor his memory with martial contests such as boxing, wrestling, archery. You know."

"Really? I know what I'm doing tonight."

"Yeh cannae be serious!" Bard protested.

"And why the hell not? I've been stuffed up in the inn for nearly two nights straight and I'm damn sick of it."

"So yeh would rather go out there and get yer face kicked in?"

"Really, nanny, I'll have you know I'm a professional face-kicker myself."

"It dinnae mean that I have teh like it!"

"I say go for it." Raul added. "There's a handsome amount of money in it. If you're good enough, that is. In fact, that's why your companions stepped out. Francisco needed a little extra scratch to finish the disguises."

"So what exactly are you planning, if you don't mind my asking?"

"We'll have to make sure it works first. No point in explaining something useless." the vampire sniffed, setting down a now clean glass.

"So where is everyone else, still in bed?" Bard thought to change the subject, not feeling comfortable with the current thoughts running through his head.

"I think the colored gentleman is, yes. I'm not too sure about the Leonin, and the young fellow has been sick all morning."

"How can you tell?" Fang looked at the barkeep with curiosity.

"We vampires have excellent ears...it sounds rather awful."

"I guess that's my fault." she laughed a little, her hand at the back of her head. "It was bound to happen eventually."

"Tainting the poor lad like that, Miss Fang," Bard scowled, "you should be ashamed."

"But I'm not." she replied plainly.

"I dinnae think so. Just thought I'd point that out." the satyr shrugged, defeated.

The inn suddenly shook, a loud bang resound through the place though muffled by the door just beside the stage. Raul's face flattened, he shrugged, and then politely excused himself to go and address the problem. Everyone knew what it was, having grown familiar to the noise by now. Francisco had gone and blown himself up. Again. Raul opened the hidden door to be greeted by a great cloud of gray smoke. Waving his hand in front of him he stepped inside.

Fang and Bard watched from the bar.

"Makes yeh wonder how the place still stands."

"Oh aye." Fang agreed.

Raul appeared some half hour later, Francisco on his arm, covered head to toe in what looked like soot. He was blacker than midnight all over, not a lick of color to him other than the deep blue of his eyes. At least he hadn't managed to make himself appear to have been shat on by a rainbow, like before. And while Raul scolded him once again, Francisco pleaded his case by saying in his favor that he only destroyed half the room this time. Yes, a big difference indeed.

It was after the smoke and dust settled that Lightning and Han returned to the inn. The two descended the stairs almost gingerly, striding across the floor to let a rather sizable bag of gold drop onto the top of the bar. Everyone present turned their eyes to it.

"Sweet teat of Amalthea," Bard gaped at it, disbelieving.

"Damn, sunshine," Fang was leaning back on the stool to have a good look. "Who'd you have to beat up to get that?"

Before Lightning could answer, Raul had stepped up in front of them, having heard but yet to see what had chimed so lovely. "It appears you did quiet well."

"Third place in the lap race." Lightning crossed her arms. "Took first on the trail."

"Congratulations."

"Will it be enough?"

"More than enough, thank you. I'll be sure to give you back what's left."

"No, keep it, we don't use that back home."

"Thank you again, that's very generous. Francisco?"

"Yes?" the other vampire lifted his darkened head.

"Go clean yourself up, you have some shopping to do." And what would have been prime opportunity for him to complain, Francisco rose from the chair and went off to do exactly as his sire said. What's to argue with a good idea?

"Who beat you on the track?" Fang wondered, seemingly unable to comprehend that anyone could out ride her.

"Some midget on a pony just as small as him," she thought back, "and another woman on this massive black stallion. That thing was a monster."

"That big?"

"Biggest I've ever seen. But it didn't take the trail very well." Lightning took a seat, rubbing her forearm across her face, wiping away a fine sheen of sweat.

"Uh-huh." Fang's tone suddenly changed, a smile creeping across her mouth. "So...you two old fogies enjoy your date?"

Han gaped at his tribal sibling, looking repulsed.

"Shut up." Lightning grumbled. "I couldn't have gotten Valkyrie from the stable without him."

"Sure, sure, I understand." Fang's tone was sly, like she knew something she shouldn't.

"You're an ass."

"Least my tits don't sag."

Lightning refused to grace that remark with a response, not in any mood to play that game right now. Han was still standing just behind her, frozen in place, still seemingly unable to fully process what Fang was suggesting. Did she accuse them of...courting? Gods forbid! Not a chance in hell!

Besides, you don't take your woman to watch her race, to watch her nearly knocked out of the saddle by an opponent too fixed on victory. No, that simply wasn't done. You take your woman riding, but not racing. Let the horse slowly amble, not gallop at speeds great enough to break one's neck.

Finally he sat down, unable to say a word about it. He looked stunned and yet, somehow guilty. Clearly he was doing nothing wrong, though I can't honestly say the same for his thoughts.

(-)

The master and his lady were not home, not yet. They had gone out for the afternoon, Kasa more than willing to take an opportunity to get out of the villa. That left Vanille to look after the baby, and though that had become a frequent occurrence these last couple of days, she still refused to do it alone. She asked that Donovan come by every so often, if for no other reason than to make herself feel just a bit more secure. If anything were to happen to Haddai while in her care, it could be her head.

But if there was an incident, Donovan would be there, and that gave her enough confidence to make it until the infant's mother returned.

The baby was by no means troublesome, as often was said for human children. Of course he would fuss now and again, but was quiet once placated with what he wanted, which was usually his bottle. Otherwise he was comfortably sleeping in his crib that was situated near a ray of sunshine. Still, in spite of this, Vanille found it difficult to interact with the child. She didn't want to hold him, pick him up, or even look at him if it wasn't necessary. Something about contact with the baby disturbed her, made her feel like someone was rubbing her all over with sand paper. The heebie-jeebies. After a while, though the sensation held, she simply blamed it on the difference in species and went along with it.

When Haddai was in need of something, he would squirm and grunt like any other baby, but when he wasn't attended to quickly enough, he would grind out this inhuman screech. It was strangely bird like and impossible to ignore. The first time Vanille heard it she was terrified, she thought the infant might be dying. Babies just didn't make such noise. Thankfully Donovan arrived not a moment too soon. He had exposure to vampiric children and knew straight away how to take care of it.

Now, in the late afternoon, Vanille sat in a chair beside the cradle, holding the baby as he sucked hungrily on his bottle. He nigh on guzzled down the milky pink mixture, goat's milk mixed with pig blood. Donovan was watching from where he stood, just a couple of steps away.

"It seems to come to you so naturally." he said in quiet wonder, smiling.

"I suppose." she replied somewhat flatly. She'd heard that before.

"Well, at least he doesn't fight you like he does me. He actually likes you."

Vanille didn't want the baby to like her. She wasn't going to be staying long anyhow.

"Something wrong?" he asked, suddenly noticing the distant look in her eyes. "Tired?"

"A little." she confessed. "Just letting my mind wander, really."

"You sure that's all?"

She nodded. It really was just that, though you couldn't really say her mind wandered. Wandering suggested a lack of focus, no known destination. But that wasn't the case. She kept thinking along the same line, thinking of the same faces. Fang and Hope. They were here in the city somewhere. They were here, and they were going to save her.

You would think that alone would make her happy, but she did her best to keep her reactions to a minimum. She didn't want to give the thought away, not even wanting to utter a word of it to Donovan or Beth. Vanille trusted the couple with her life, but there was no telling if they could hide her secret from their master.

"I'm fine." she assured him, even going so far as to try for a sincere smile.

"If you insist." the older man sounded less than willing to relent, but did so anyhow. Then he reached for her, tentative until she realized what he was doing. "Might I have a quick look?"

"What? Oh, yes, just a second. He's almost finished."

Donovan needed to see the stitches, check their progress. Vanille waited until Haddai did his customary grunt and shoving gesture with his pudgy arms before putting him back into his crib. Certain the baby was pacified for the time being, she returned to the doctor and presented her wrists for his inspection.

"Any pain? There doesn't appear to be any fresh bruising,"

"No. They itch from time to time though."

"That's normal. I suppose I could take them out tonight." he surmised, nodding his head in approval. Then he held both of her hands in his, looking still very concerned. "You're certain you're all right?"

"Yes." she insisted with another attempt at a smile. "Stop worrying so much."

"Can you blame me, deary? Really?"

No, she couldn't, all things considered. Perhaps he had every right to act like he did, like a father in fear of his only child's safety. It was actually somewhat comforting to know he was on her side, looking out for her when it felt like everyone else was out to get her.

"Have you been biting it again?"

Vanille looked down, torn from her thoughts by his voice. He was referring to her finger, the flesh on her knuckle still seeming mangled and inflamed.

"No, I haven't." though it looked like she had. There was a hint of yellowing around the sealed wounds that were shaped like teeth.

"Mayhaps it's gotten infected," he wondered. "I'll definitely want to look at that this evening when you come by."

"Okay." she nodded. "Um, do you know when the master will be back?"

"Oh, let me see," he checked his pocket watch. "I would imagine any time now. I suppose they went to the races, which should be long over. I don't imagine it will be much longer."

And he was right. Some quarter of an hour passed after the statement when the lord and lady of the house came into the room. Both servants stood and bent their heads until their owner excused them.

"Did you enjoy your outing, master?" Donovan asked.

"Very much. Although I'm quite positive my good lady wife appreciated it more than I." Hassan laughed.

"Indeed." Kasa agreed. "Was Haddai any trouble for you?" she smiled down at the other servant.

"No, ma'am." was Vanille's meek answer.

"How went the races, master?" Donovan loved to go when he could, and was rather disappoint not to have been allowed to this year.

"Very exciting, I wish you had been with us. Maestro Sinclaire participated this year."

"Did she? Never saw her for much of a jockey, my lord."

"I don't think anyone else did either." the bloodchief laughed. "She took the lap race rather easily."

Donovan's eyes were wide. "And the trail?"

"Some woman with pink hair; pink hair, had you ever heard of such a thing?"

"Afraid not, master. It sounds exciting though."

Vanille felt her heart jump slightly. She only knew one person that looked like that. Were all of them here in the city somewhere?

"You're looking much better today, I'm glad to see." Hassan looked to Vanille, noticing a greater presence of color in her face.

"Oh, th-thank you, m-master." she replied, almost blushing.

"Come, walk with me a while, then." and he held his clawed hand out to her. Her emerald gaze shifted from his hand to him and back again, hesitation clear on her face. Knowing she couldn't very well say no, she took it, following him out of the room. She didn't know that Donovan had watched them leave, his face creased with worry.

As rightly it should be.

He worried and fretted over her the rest of the day, and long into the night as he waited, hour by hour, to come and see him as he asked. When she at last arrived, some time after midnight, you can imagine his lack of surprise to see her crying. It broke his heart, although part of him was somewhat glad that she was in a better state than last time. There were some new bruises on her arms, and her backside was red and raw from the careless, repeated impact of someone's hand. A hickey on her neck darkened near old bite marks, but those were minor things.

Donovan didn't say anything, only caught her as she fell against him, sobbing. It had become almost routine by now.

Just cry, deary...cry all you want. Just don't hurt yourself again. Go ahead and cry.

After a time he was able to sit her down, starting to rummage through his desk for something, anything she could take to calm herself. She appeared to be shaking hard enough to fall to pieces.

Vanille knew she was in his office, could feel her body sitting in the chair, but her mind was elsewhere entirely. It was stuck somehow back where she had been for last few hours, stuck in her master's bedroom.

Stuck there with him and his brother.

As Donovan gently cut away the stitches, pulling them free, she replayed the evening back in her mind, unable to stop it. The corridor, where Hassan had commented on his shame over Tezzim's behavior, his sorrow over her reaction to it, and how he never intended for it to happen in the first place. She couldn't believe a word of it, in spite of the vampire's apparent sincerity. She had heard "sorry" from him enough times.

That was when he lead her into his room, and she spied Tezzim sprawled out on his brother's bed, legs crossed and arms behind his head as he lounged into the pillows. That alone was cause enough for her alarm.

Hassan did feel guilty over what his brother had done to the girl, though I'll admit he was more upset over his not having asked permission than his actions. The bloodchief felt an obligation towards his twin, since he was denied the privileges of Hassan's status simply by being born a few minutes later. He felt the need to share everything with Tezzim, be it women or money or influence, and he had done so without fail for centuries. He had often wondered if, perhaps, he was spoiling his younger sibling. But the thought had always been brief, half lived even in his mind.

Although, Hassan came to conclude, if he was going to play with his toys so roughly, he would have to do so under his supervision from now on. The bloodchief would sit at his desk, pretending to be reading through his papers, whilst Tezzim enjoyed the perks of his brother's position.

The only rule was that he couldn't shed her blood. Otherwise the toy would be taken away.

Vanille felt herself cringe. She could still hear Tezzim, the hiss of his voice echoing through her thoughts.

"Just look at her, brother. Isn't she the prettiest little thing? The evening sun seems to make her shimmer."

"Hmm."

"Might I undress her now?"

"You may."

She shivered in the chair, almost drawing her arms and legs inward with disgust.

"So beautiful, so delicate. Might I touch her?"

"You may."

Vanille could almost feel the tips of his claws, the chilling press of his fingertips all over her. And as her eyes screwed shut, she recalled having sworn that her owner was smiling, oh so subtly from his seat. It was a game to him. It was a game for both of them, one they had played dozens of times before with dozens of other women.

"She's so warm, brother. Isn't she?"

"Hmm."

"Might I kiss her?"

"You may."

The texture of his lips, the moisture, was more akin to a dead fish than a loving gesture of any kind.

"Brother?"

"Yes?"

"May I fuck her? I can't hold back much longer."

"Carefully."

"Yes, brother."

Vanille had forced her mind elsewhere then, for once successful, and was just barely aware of his hips bumping into her backside from behind.

"What are you thinking, little one?" he had asked. Too quiet for his brother too hear. "Certainly not of me. Is there someone else?"

His quiet laugh at his own question had disgusted her.

"Is it that boy from the gallery? I'll admit, he did have a certain handsomeness to him."

That pulled her mind back to the there and then.

"Are you pretending I'm him?"

No, she wasn't. How could she? Surely Hope wouldn't such things to her. But, in the end, Tezzim had succeeded in defiling the idea of Hope, tainting the memory she held of him. Perhaps that had been his purpose in mentioning him at all.

"Would you rather he fuck you instead of me?"

She remembered having started to cry then, quietly, as she mentally prayed for him to stop. Prayed for him not to say anything more.

Vanille flinched as Donovan tended to the mild infection in her finger, momentarily bringing her back to reality. But only for a moment.

"Look at this perky backside, Hassan. Isn't it nice?"

"It is."

"Might I have it blush a little? Just a little."

"A little."

His heavy palm landed on the curve of her buttocks, the contact a wild sting that burned through her. Twice more the loud snap of skin against skin cut the air. She held in the tiny scream that just made it to her throat. Sweet Jesus did it hurt, like a livid blister.

"That's a nice shade there, isn't it brother?"

"It is." Hassan had actually looked, dwelled on it, and then nodded as he went back to his papers.

Tezzim hadn't said much after that, feeling content to ride her until he climaxed with a heavy, drawn out grunt. Vanille thought it would end there. But we all know she isn't that lucky.

"That was quite nice, thank you, brother. Although,"

"What is it?"

"It appears I am not yet satisfied." He still sported a full erection. "Mayhaps I simply can't be content whilst you simply sit there. I don't want you left out."

"How thoughtful of you, Tezzim."

"Why not join us? There's always room for one more."

Vanille had been stricken with a fresh stab of terror when she saw her master stand and begin to disrobe as he walked towards the bed. Stalking, steady steps that made him look more and more like the hunter his blood demanded he be. He settled onto the bed, on his knees in front of her, and pushed back on her tiny shoulders until she too was on her knees. Tezzim was still behind her.

Gods no, don't do it. Not this, please, not this...

Yes. This.

It was only after the twins had finished that she was able to leave, and she went straight to Donovan's office. It seemed the safest place.

The doctor looked up at her, feeling his insides twist at the misery painted on her face and the tears streaming from her eyes.

"Maybe...would you like to stay here tonight?" he asked, feeling it was the only real comfort her could offer.

Vanille could only nod. Though her mind was still alight with the pain and disgust of the late afternoon, she had begun to feel so very tired.

He had a few extra linens and things beneath his own bed, and laid them out across the exam table that she might have a place to sleep. He watched her curl up beneath the blankets, going still, looking so uncomfortable in her own skin. The older man stood by until she appeared to be sleeping, and then decided to retire for the night himself.

It was dark in the adjacent room, Beth having gone to bed some hours ago. He undressed quietly and carefully slid into bed behind her. His arms eased around her small frame and he held her close.

"What is it, darling?" she whispered, half awake.

He didn't answer right away.

"Is she all right?" somehow she knew. Woman's intuition perhaps.

"I'm so angry." Donovan confessed quietly, his body shaking. "Why do they keep doing it to her?"

"I know, dear, I know. But it isn't like we can do anything to stop it. At least she has you to take care of her."

But that failed to make him feel any less guilty.

"Please, try and get some sleep." and Beth kissed his hand as it covered hers in the darkness.

"I'll try." and he held her that much tighter.

Vanille didn't go to sleep straight away, almost fought to stay awake out of fear. Fear of opening her eyes and seeing him looming over her, his slitted eyes glowing.

Never again.

She chanted the promise to herself. Not once more would she stand for that bastard to touch her. She didn't care if it kept her in servitude indefinitely, or even if it killed her. Tezzim would not lay another hand on her if it was the last thing she would ever do.

Never again.

Author's Note: I can't believe I got this out on time. I didn't start on it until Friday. I've just had a very busy week. Lots of big stuff going on. If you want to find out what I've been up to, check my deviantart, under Luckyfirerabbit. But I had to force this just a bit, my writer's block is bound and determined to keep me from finishing this damn thing. Can't believe it's been as long as it has. Okay, so our party didn't come to the rescue this time, but I can assure you they will in the next. Don't count on that chapter to be on time, though.