The Amazon quickened her pace to catch up to Paige, fearing the rogue had rushed headlong into unseen danger, and the rest of the band followed suit.

They drew nearer to the source of the crying until they found Paige gripping the iron bars of a dark cell, trying to peer inside. Dana poked the head of her flaming spear between the bars to illuminate the interior.

A woman in a rich burgundy dress was curled up in the corner, weeping. The sudden intrusion of light made her jump and she began to scream.

- "Calm down," the amazon enjoined, "we're not going to hurt you," but the woman was too panicked to listen and curled up even further.

- "I can open the door," Paige offered. She produced a lockpick from her belt and set to work. Despite the distracting cries of the woman inside, she soon defeated the lock and the gate swung open.

At this the prisoner cried out even louder than before.

- "NO! STAY BACK!"

- "Put that thing away," the paladin urged Aan with a meaningful look towards the barbarian's axe as he sheathed Providence in its new scabbard. He also hung his shield on his back and took off his helmet to appear as unintimidating as possible.

He pushed past Dana and Paige to enter the cell and kneeled before the woman.

- "Don't be afraid, we're friends," he said as gently as he could. "We're here on a rescue mission. Come with us, we'll get you out of here," he finished, offering his hand.

She looked up at him with wide, honey-colored eyes that studied him carefully; she was stunning, her jet-black hair framing an aristocratic face that looked as though it were a painting. He was taken aback by her beauty but he tried not to show it.

Her hand reached out hesitantly to grab his. When it did, he returned her grip firmly and offered her a reassuring smile. The moment he helped her to her feet she leaped into his arms, embracing him tightly.

- "It's alright now," he said soothingly. "You're safe."

- "First ghosts," Talia whined aloud, "and now abducted maidens. Next, we'll find out the missing rogues are all chaste."

- "Enough with the countess stories," the paladin berated her before turning back to the woman clinging to him. "What's your name?"

- "Lisa," she replied in a hush.

- "Lisa, how did you get here? Where are you from?"

- "I was traveling to Eastgate Keep with my escort when demons fell upon us," she recounted with a tremulous voice, and her lilting accent was strangely old-fashioned. "They killed my poor brave men and took me captive. Please, get me out of this horrid place," she begged, refusing to let go of her savior.

Galen looked back at the others, weighing his options.

- "Talia, perhaps it would be best if you take her to safety while we press on ahead."

The sorceress didn't have time to protest against being relegated to escort duty again before Lisa saved her the trouble.

- "Please don't leave me, sir knight!" she cried as she clung even tighter to him.

Slightly embarrassed, he met Dana's eyes. He did not like the idea of abandoning his party, but he could not in good conscience leave this woman here, even less take her further into danger.

Something strange flickered in the Amazon's eyes but she offered him a simple nod.

- "Don't worry about us," she answered his silent question. "We can handle whatever lies ahead without you. Akara gave us some potions in case we need healing. Take her back to the surface, we'll meet you there when we're done."

- "Keep them out of harm's way," he said with a grateful smile.

Dana led the others away, the orange glare of her spear receding, leaving only the pure white of his aura. When they were alone, he nudged the woman in his arms as gently as possible.

- "Lisa, I'm going to take you back up top, alright? Just stay close."

She merely nodded into his neck where her head was buried, but made no move to relinquish him. He smiled empathetically at the display and decided to give her time to work up her courage. It wasn't as if the situation was unpleasant.

In fact, it was a bit too pleasant, he realized as she squirmed against him. This wasn't the time or place for such thoughts, he berated himself. He tried to dismiss the feeling but he could not deny the heat that was building up in his body. He couldn't understand why he was reacting like this. This was no way to think about a damsel in distress. Sure, the damsel in question was stunning, but he had been surrounded by beautiful women ever since he'd arrived at the rogue encampment, and he had never allowed that to distract him. Yet now he felt an overwhelming urge to abandon himself to her embrace.

He shifted uncomfortably, his shame overriding his desire, and was about to try to disengage himself when he felt a sudden pain in his neck. He inhaled sharply at the sensation, but it was soon replaced with a tantalizing numbness that traveled through his veins.

He tried to push the woman away but her grip was like unbending steel, and she only squeezed him tighter. She was far stronger than a maiden had any right to be, and his strength was leaving him by the second.

An onrush of dizziness took him and he went limp in her arms, his helm clanging on the floor as it fell from his nerveless hand, yet she held him there as though he weighed nothing, despite his war gear; one hand around his waist, the other at the back of his head, and her lips still at his neck.

His vision was going dark when she finally removed them, and his eyes focused again to see them stained red with his blood and curled into a predatory smile.

- "Aaaah, fresh blood," the woman calling herself Lisa purred with self-satisfied delight. "What a fortuitous day. The lamb wanders willingly into the wolf's lair. How kind of you and your friends to offer yourselves so freely."

- "You…", he managed weakly, "are the Countess!"

- "It is too late for that now," she said with mock sympathy. "Pretty young things like you should better heed the warnings of your elders. Legends exist for a reason."

He tried desperately to stand on his own, to push her away, but his body failed him and she simply let him fall to his knees. Her crystalline laugh echoed against the cell's walls as she watched him struggle to remain upright, and she bent down to his level, cupping his face gently with her hand.

- "I love it when they have spirit. It makes it all the sweeter when they finally give in."

She was so close he could smell her breath. It had a metallic tang.

A sudden realization struck him. A vampire should be unable to stand anywhere near him while he was enveloped by holy life energies, yet she was completely unaffected. Perhaps she was protected by a barrier of some kind?

He tried burning his aura even brighter, yet all it provoked from her was an appreciative smile, as if her prize merely gleamed more alluringly.

- "What kind of vampire are you?" he managed to ask.

Her clear laughter echoed again.

- "Vampire? Oh you dear, sweet boy. Do I look undead to you?" she asked, flaunting herself. A seductive glint shone in her eyes and she pressed her body against his. "Do I feel undead?" she whispered in his ear. Her warmth seemed to envelop him. "Vampires are nothing more than those I've made into my eternal servants. I am just as alive as you are, though I've been around for much, much longer."

- "How?" he demanded simply. Despite how troubled he was by both his predicament and her bewitching magnetism, his strategic side was trying to buy time. His aura may have had no effect on her, but it was slowly replenishing the blood he had lost. He just had to keep her talking long enough for him to regain his strength.

- "You've never heard of blood magic?" she taunted as she leaned back and started playing with his hair. "I learned it from demons a long time ago, and it has allowed me to feed on the lifeforce of others to preserve my youth. Oh, the last two centuries have been a dry spell, and I had to content myself with the blood of lost travelers and the occasional treasure hunter. Meager fare at the best of times," she continued in that same jaded, aristocratic tone, as though she were entertaining guests for tea. "But a while ago the land began to change," her voice was more confidential now. "I could smell it in the air: the sweet taint of demonic corruption. It made me stronger, and before long lovely maidens began showing up practically at my doorstep: young, strong, pure. The hunt has been good of late. But now," she whispered while grabbing the back of his head, "I have caught myself an exceptional quarry. I had originally planned to isolate the young mage in your party, but once I caught a whiff of you as you gallantly tried to comfort me, I knew I couldn't wait to taste you," she finished, sniffing his neck.

- "I thought you required the blood of virgins," he demurred, desperate to avoid another bite.

- "Virgin blood is indeed exquisite, but I care little whether my prey is a chaste girl or a harlot, a noblewoman or a milkmaid, a man or a woman. All that matters is how pure the blood is. And yours, sweet boy, is unlike anything I have ever tasted. It holds such power, such vitality. I usually turn the strong ones into my vampire slaves, bound to me by a ritual blood pact, but you…it would be a waste to snuff your delicious life. I will break you like the others, and you will offer yourself to me, but I won't turn you. I will keep you as my willing prisoner to feast on whenever I please, and you will learn to love your mistress's red kisses. I will teach you delights a mortal like yourself could only dream of."

- "I am a knight of Westmarch," Galen declared with returning strength. "No amount of pleasure or pain will avail you."

- "They all say that at first. Courage is easy while you still have hope, but when the cycle of torture and ecstasy becomes your night and day, when my goodwill is the key to either heaven or hell, you will beg to serve me. Oh, you will wish to die before then, perhaps even refuse to eat or drink, but you will obey me if you want your friends to live. Now that they are without their leader, my minions will have no trouble capturing them."

Instead of the look of panic she had expected, Galen simply smirked at the countess.

- "You underestimate my friends," he said before his expression turned dead serious. "And you underestimate me!"

The gentle white of his aura suddenly shifted to a swirling gold and he began to rise. She tried to restrain him again but found that his strength was beyond even hers now, pushing her away with one hand while drawing his sword with the other, despite her firm grip.

With one final grunt of effort the blade came free and carved a gash across her abdomen, forcing her back. Her blood spilled out, but almost immediately started writhing unnaturally as the wound began to close.

Her eyes narrowed at her foe, studying him, trying to understand how the prey that had been at her mercy a moment ago was suddenly overpowering her. Her gaze alighted on his neck, where the twin bite marks she had left him with should have been; except they weren't there. Laughter burst out of her crimson lips.

- "Marvelous! You have healing powers!" she exclaimed with renewed greed in her eyes. "A banquet that replenishes itself; I could not have asked for a better boon."

She raised a hand in his direction and began to mutter in a forgotten tongue. Before he could charge her, Galen felt a horrible burning sensation spread across his veins, as if his blood had been set on fire. He cried out and dropped to one knee from the intense pain. His eyes too burned excruciatingly, and when he looked up at the Countess his vision was blurred.

- "What did you do to me?" he managed to grunt through gritted teeth.

- "Did you think I merely drank your blood earlier?" she answered in her signature haughty tone. "Once you've received my kiss your blood is tainted with my magics. Do you understand now? You are mine. Resist me, and I will bury you in pain," she emphasized as she moved in a blur to pick him up and slam him violently against the cell wall, pinning him with her body. "Submit, and I will drown you in pleasure," she crooned huskily into his ear, then claimed his lips with her own.

The pain vanished at once and was replaced with ecstasy that flared its way across his every nerve. His eyes flew open, his thoughts a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. She kissed him the way only a woman with centuries of experience could; he had never been the object of such unbridled passion before, and something inside him wanted desperately to stop fighting it, to never have to fight again, to just let go and give in.

His sword hand began to slacken. The sheer rapture that overwhelmed his senses robbed him of his will to struggle, and his aura waned as he melted into her embrace, enveloped in her arms and the growing darkness.

- "Good boy," she purred against his lips. She continued kissing him as her hands began roaming across his body, digging for his naked skin, but his armor frustrated her.

She set about undressing him, first unbuckling his sword belt and baldric. But as she did so, his scabbard and shield fell to the floor with a loud clang, and the sound jolted him out of his lustful daze.

The Countess sensed the sudden tension in his limbs and she moved from his lips to his neck as she tilted his head to expose it. Again, her fangs bit deep. Again, the pleasant numbness flooded his senses. Again, he felt his strength leaving him.

He was starting to drift away when an image of Dana leading the others into the darkness of the dungeon flashed in his mind, and his hand tightened around his sword.

The Countess's lips relinquished her prey with a scream as Providence skewered her, and she stumbled away from the paladin, blood oozing from the stab wound.

Her eyes ablaze with fury, she chanted her ancient curses again, and Galen's blood once more ignited in agonizing pain. He fought with every fiber of his being to stay on his feet despite his weakened state, his body shaking as he summoned his reserves of willpower.

He had to remove her taint from his blood, and soon.

Despite the torment assaulting his senses he managed to focus inward, calling upon a familiar resonance within. A clear, pale blue aura flowed out from him in waves, moving back and forth like water on the shore. He had used this cleansing light many times before to clean wounds and heal the sick. Its cool touch soothed the burning in his blood, and his hunched posture slowly swelled with confidence as the taint was purged from his veins.

Seeing him stand tall against her powers as her grip on him faded, the Countess's eyes widened with fear. She darted out of the cell with inhuman speed, fleeing into the darkness, but as she looked back down the dim corridor the light emanating from her foe shifted to a fierce gold, and before long he was hot on her heels. She could scarcely believe it, but this mortal was moving as fast as she was; no matter how hard she tried she could not outrun him. She veered left and right, trying to lose him in the labyrinthine passageways she knew by heart, but always she turned to see the golden light closing in on her.

Galen followed the trail of blood by the light of his aura, running doggedly after the Countess with the unbridled energy it endowed him with. As he rounded another corner, he came upon the site of their earlier battle with the goatmen, and he slowed down. The trail he was following mingled with the blood of the dead khazra, and he could no longer make it out.

He walked urgently forward, keeping an eye out for any sign of the blood mage, afraid he was about to lose track of her, but that fear was quickly dispelled as she appeared within his vision, slumped on her knees in the middle of the carnage he and his party had wrought here. He walked up to her carefully, wary of any traps, and placed his sword at the side of her neck. He could now see that the ground beneath her was wet with her blood.

- "You've won," she spoke haltingly. "A bitter victory, when you could have had an eternity of sweet bliss at my side. I would have showered you with more love than this thankless world could ever give. I offered you paradise, yet you choose to fight your way through hell. Go ahead. Slay the monster and return to your brief life of hardship. Go on…finish it."

The paladin's blade tensed and began to tremble slightly. This was no longer the Countess he was talking to. This was the woman Lisa, scared, hurt and alone in the dark. All arrogance and menace had vanished from her countenance.

His mind raced, trying to remember why he needed to strike the killing blow. This creature was human, or at least had been once, but she was in league with demons, and she preyed upon the innocent. She had killed countless people over the centuries, or else turned them into undead abominations, among which were the very rogues of the sisterhood he had vowed to help. She deserved to die ten times over, yet Providence remained still. He could not bring himself to strike an enemy that offered no resistance, especially when she looked like no more than a scorned maiden.

Unbeknown to Galen the Countess' blood had begun spreading into the puddles of demonic ichor all around and snaking its way into the corpses of the goatmen. Suddenly, it bubbled with unholy magics and the walls echoed with the sickening snap of tearing bodies as they coalesced into a mass of blood, bone and gore.

The paladin stared in horrified fascination at the sight, too sickened to react, and an emerging limb grasped his sword in a powerful grip. The Countess moved out of the way as the monstrosity finished forming and brought down its fist, all jutting bones and dripping flesh, crashing down upon Galen's head. The force of the blow staggered him as he felt blood pour down his temple, but he regained focus just in time to block its second attack with his free hand, his whole body tensing with the effort. He offered a silent prayer of gratitude to the light that infused his being with holy might.

The blood golem roared, its voice like the death rattle of a hundred animals in a slaughterhouse, and it used its grip on the sword to turn and slam the much lighter human into the adjacent wall. The impact rattled his bones, and before he could recover another claw swipe raked across his torso, carving long gashes into his armor. The brigandine's leather was torn in several places, and even some of the metal plates inside were bent or ripped away; thankfully, the gambeson beneath was relatively unscathed.

The creature followed up with another attack but Galen ducked beneath it and slashed the creature's abdomen, then reversed his swing and hacked down at the massive backhand coming his way. The golem's wrist was severed, yet it paid it no mind as it continued trying to swat at its diminutive foe, but the paladin was a blur of light, dancing among the creature's sluggish blows. His powerful swings cut deep into the undead flesh, and each time a chunk of it came apart.

The abomination suddenly stopped its futile assault and rushed bodily at the knight, using its wide frame to make it impossible to dodge. Galen was pushed back as he resisted the charge, his aura burning brighter, but the golem picked him up in its arms and began trying to crush him against itself. His armor could do little to prevent the constricting grip and he began to struggle for air, the creature's jutting bones digging into his chest. His arms still free, he reversed his grip on his sword and plunged it with desperate strength into the golem's skull, then twisted and began pulling the blade back towards himself, sawing through the whole head.

With a low groan the monstrosity began falling apart, large chunks of it splashing down wetly onto the ground, and Galen followed suit. Gasping for air, he took a moment to steady his breathing before standing back up amid the gory mess, his tired but fierce gaze on the Countess.

Nothing stood between him and her now as she lay on her knees, yet she smiled wickedly and raised a hand, a scarlet mist emanating from her fingertips. The mass of flesh and bone at his feet suddenly burst in a terrifyingly powerful explosion of gore that painted everything up to the ceiling in red. The paladin was sent flying several feet, bouncing off a wall.

Hanging desperately to consciousness, he tried to get up, but found his limbs would not answer him. Bits of bone had pierced his left arm and side, his ears rang and his head swam. His eyes focused just long enough to see the Countess crawling over to him. Further away behind her, another blood golem lumbered forward menacingly. His hand urgently sought the hilt of his sword but found nothing.

It was hopeless. He had failed, and his companions would pay the price. She was on him now, smiling hungrily.

The last thing Galen felt before sinking into sweet oblivion was her blood kiss on his neck.