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Terror of Tuhloon

March, 2005

Chapter 11: The Duel


 

Serje entered the Dream Realm within his basement just before he was discovered. It was exactly as Merte had described it; he was in his own basement except that it looked dark, dilapidated and colorless. It was a perfect mirror image interpretation. There was no noise, the absolute silence surprised him, since he wasn't prepared for it, “What a trip,” he said aloud to himself. His voice sounded muted, as if his ears were plugged, and there was a slight echoing effect.

Serje's carefully arranged books were gone; the sturdy wooden bookshelf, that he and his grandfather built together, was sagging to one side and most of the shelving boards were broken. His bed was sitting on the floor, all of the legs broken, his blankets were gone and his mattress was torn, stained and flat. Serje's desk, which he sat at for hours reading, studying or talking to Tonja on the phone, was completely smashed and most of the larger pieces were gone as though someone had hauled them off for firewood.

The only two windows in the basement were both broken, there was no electricity and the walls were cracked and faded with time. Serje's gift had granted him excellent night vision but he couldn't see anything but deep shadows and endless darkness. His gifts were somehow stifled within this world. He quickly cinched the wolf belt around his waist and was relieved to find that he could still assume his bestial form. At least the Dream Realm would not prevent him from becoming a Werewolf.

There were no scents in the air as though nothing living had ever existed here. Serje, who thrived on using his heightened senses the last few days, was disappointed to find them void within the Dream Realm.

Serje's wolf companion was no longer silver, but black. Its dark coat blended perfectly into the darkness, making it difficult for him to see it. Serje wondered if this world was where the wolf had come from.

Looking outside the smashed bedroom door, Serje could see even more impenetrable darkness. He ventured forth, into the backyard and he could see the rich pools of shadows and perpetual night.

There was no temperature here, no sense of warmth, cold or anything. Serje also noticed that there was no breeze, no shift in the air as though he were in a tight space, like a closet. Even as he stepped out into the backyard, the entire world felt as if he were inside a tightly sealed jar.

The entire experience was surreal and beyond his expectancy. Serje was eager to explore. He resisted going into his grandfather's house because he didn't want to see the run down version of it. Perhaps it would be a glimpse into the future after his grandfather finally succumbed to old age and passed away.

The streets were dark, no lamp posts illuminated the roadway, no lights shined in any of the windows. It was as if Tuhloon had become a ghost town, existing for hundreds of years through neglect and sorrow and solitude.

The trees which should be vibrant and full of life were quiet, dark and lifeless. Even the grass seemed dead under his feet. The dirt bike track that he and Tonja frequented was unkempt and overgrown with litter, dead branches, weeds and leaves.

The sky overhead was black, swirling with slight colors, as if it was a faded version of the aurora borealis. It seemed much lower than the real sky, the twisted rivers of endless dull colors appeared only a few hundred feet above.

Even while in Werewolf form and with his wolf companion at his side, Serje was loathe to enter the blackened woods. Without his heightened senses, he was nervous to go anywhere. The place was just as dark, foreboding and frightening to him as it would be a regular human. Merte had also warned him that it was a dangerous place, further adding to his apprehension.

Although in an alien world, Serje felt the tug of fatigue and began searching the small town for a suitable place to sleep. Finally, in one of the second story businesses, he found a loft that had a decent bed and a thick comforter. Serje told the wolf to guard him, and promptly fell asleep.


 


 

* * *


 

Since the rest of their afternoon had been spent setting up cameras which was tedious, Sephon and Logan found themselves in a heated debate as usual. Whenever The Three were faced with down time, Logan would grow restless and Sephon increasingly philosophical. Their opposite personalities would clash as ice against fire. Logan was the abrasive and Sephon served as the match striking against it, igniting yet another outburst of disagreement.

The Three had completed setting up their surveillance equipment and had retired to their hotel room.

Jewel watched both men with keen amusement. Like clockwork, the two friends were squaring off in yet another one of their meaningless arguments, with Logan only participating mainly to stave off boredom and Sephon always ready to defend his ethical and moral beliefs. Neither of them would ever admit to the other that they were wrong.

Logan had largely ignored Sephon after he made a scathing comment about his doubt in God's existence and Sephon had nearly lost his mind in response.

Sephon shouted at Logan in an exasperated tone, “You've seen Demons with your own eyes, Shithead!”

Logan had busied himself by making a sandwich and was now stuffing his face with it, “Yeah? And?”

Their battleground, this time, was the small hotel kitchen.

Sephon stood in the living room, fists clenched at his sides, looking like he wanted to launch a swift kick into Logan's privates, “So, how can Demons and Angels exist without God?”

Logan shrugged, “I guess I never really thought about it.”

“How?” Sephon was amazed, “How could you not realize that the existence of Demons and Angels were not mutually exclusive to the existence of a higher power?”

Logan swallowed a mouthful of grilled cheese but still managed to talk with his mouth full, “Because there's no proof that either Demons or Angels were created by God. What if they come from the same places that all these other supernaturals come from?”

Sephon threw his hands in the air, like a referee in a football game signaling a touchdown, “What the hell are you talking about? Are you really going to argue that Demons and Angels actually procreate and have little baby Demons and Angels? That they breed like most of the other supernaturals?”

Logan shrugged again, “Do you have definitive proof that they don't?”

Sephon was usually zen. He was always quiet, polite and patient. No one could get Sephon riled up so quickly and thoroughly like Logan could and secretly, Jewel suspected that Logan did it on purpose for amusement purposes.

Sephon said, “What about the Holy Bible? Whether you believe in God or not, it's one of the most historically accurate books about human history in the world. Do you believe what the Bible says about Angels and Demons or are you just to conveniently ignore it?”

Logan fetched himself a can of beer from the small refrigerator and tossed one to Sephon who deftly caught it, popped the top and took a drink, all in one smooth motion. Jewel refused a beer when Logan made like he was going to toss one at her. Logan said, “I'll agree with you that parts of the Bible are a good read, my friend, but I don't remember the part where it describes God creating every single Angel.”

“You guys are drinking and discussing religion,” Jewel interjected from the living room, “Major party foul.”

“We're not discussing religion,” Logan corrected her, “We're discussing where baby Demons come from. It's a completely different topic.”

Jewel raised her hands in surrender. Rarely did she intervene in their arguments. Tonight would be no different. Jewel busied herself wiring up all of the monitors to their base of operations, making sure that all of the feeds were clear.

Sephon told Logan, “No, we are not just talking about where Angels and Demons come from! Don't backpedal. You said you doubted that there was a higher power or a God, Shithead! That's what started this whole debate.”

Logan smiled and spoke to Sephon as if he were a small child, “Sephon, God is not a religion. It's the organizationally worship and belief system of his followers that forms the actual religion.”

“You're just trying to piss me off!” Sephon hollered, “You arrogant argumentative asshole!”

“I will not stand for being verbally insulted, thank you very much!” Logan said, with fake indignation.

Sephon advanced into the kitchen, seething with frustration. As he got close to the other man, Logan chucked his sandwich at him and they began to wrestled, struggling to overpower one another like big dumb lugs.

Jewel shook her head. She focused on her work of finishing up the network of security cameras and communications while glass broke and other things were knocked over in the kitchen.


 


 

* * *


 

Still glowing from her romantic date with Mikhail Dragomirov, Trisha Lamont prepared herself for her shift at watching over Tuhloon. Although her shift fell on the night where the Werewolf was supposed to be inactive, she wasn't worried. She'd just be a lot more cautious than normal. The Three were excellent at keeping her informed and Logan had shared his suspicions that the lycanthrope was getting help from another supernatural. If there was another aberrant for her to worry about, Trisha would be ready to handle the situation.

Trisha was standing in her living room where she lived alone. Her house was located just outside of town but adjacent to the main drag. She cast the spell of dimensional travel, holding both hands in front of her, her palms glowed blue with magical energy.

Soon the familiar tear into the third level of the Dream Realm appeared, she made it large enough to step into and entered the dark world of dream. Reality quickly winked away and she was plunged into silence and darkness. She was still in her living room, but it was a shadowy version, devoid of color, depth, smell and warmth.

Within this reality, nothing was static. The world and surroundings were never the same nor were they completely different. The environment changed erratically every time she visited, only resembling the corresponding areas of the Waking Realm. If she were to exit the Dream Realm then quickly reenter it again, there was no guarantee that her living room would look identically as she had just left it. Once before, she remembered entering the Dream Realm from her living room, and the representation appeared that her entire house had burned down. Everything within this shadowy Realm was merely a cheap replica of the Waking Realm, a facsimile of her reality, but it was never constant.

The fluidity of the Dream Realm had always fascinated Trisha, but also frightened her. Without her magic, she could be stuck inside this dark world forever. While people in the Waking Realm slept, their astral forms also visited this Realm but only fleetingly and only on the first two levels. Upon awakening, they were immediately taken back to the Waking Realm. Since Trisha was entering this Realm awake and in the flesh, there was no way she could just wake up and free herself from any nightmare she encountered here. She always carefully kept plenty of magical energy stored up for her journey home.

Trisha stepped toward the main road and was immediately there. The normal place would be flanked with thick trees and brush but in the shadowy version, it was desolate and dark, devoid of any vegetation. She turned toward town and saw only darkness but she stepped toward it anyway and found herself on a lonely street that resembled the strip.

There was no sound, no light sources, no familiar scents or any sensation of wind. The air was stagnant as if there was no such thing. She wasn't even sure whether she was breathing or not. She couldn't detect any source of illumination yet she could see, her vision clouded with shadows and dimness.

The quiet solitude allowed Trisha's mind to wander. She thought back on the wonderful time that she had over dinner with the Captain and blushed. Trisha smiled and touched her lips at the memory of the sweet kiss goodnight that he had given her. Her heart raced with excitement.

Trisha had decided to stay within the Dream Realm not only for efficiency but also for security. She had a suspicion that the aberrant was using dimensional travel to avoid detection in the Waking Realm. Since Dream was the closest and easiest Realm to travel through, Trisha chose to enter, just in case. If she could find the aberrant here, then she could follow it much easier than her or her companion had.

Suddenly, there was a deep rapid thrumming sound as if someone were lightly tapping a huge drum. Trisha could feel a slight change on her skin, a light detection of pressure from the sound. The thrumming echoed loudly, much louder than it probably would in reality.

Trisha had been to the third level of the Dream Realm hundreds of times. During her visits, she had never encountered another person before or had run into any supernaturals. The only time she had run into a nightmarish creature, was when she had ventured down into the fifth level.

The thrumming sound was coming from across town. It sounded like an echoing knock as if someone were pounding on a door with their fist. Trisha was instantly alarmed because she had never heard anything like this before. She turned toward the disturbance and stepped there, traveling halfway through the facsimile of Tuhloon and arriving at the commercial area where Pavlov's Bar should be.

Trisha walked to the middle of the intersection, looking around, trying to locate the source of the disturbance.

“Who the hell are you?”

Trisha Lamont was surprised to hear another voice and whipped around to face whoever it was. It was a woman's voice, distant, echoing and unfamiliar. She saw a hooded figure standing in one of the doorways of the unimportant shops and buildings. The hood was a long cloak, as dark red as blood. As she watched, the hooded figure removed her hood.

It was Merte Janar.

“What are you doing here?” Was the only thing Trisha could think of to ask her. How had a mere high school student accomplished dimensional travel?

Although pale and shadowy, Merte was just as gorgeous within the Dream Realm as she was in reality. Merte's voice was muted and had a strange echoing to it due to the dream environment, “I'm just looking for someone.”

Trisha began to doubt her own senses. Since this was the Dream Realm, could she be seeing an illusion? Was it possible that her eyes were playing tricks on her?

“Nice outfit,” Merte said coldly, referring to Trisha's kaleidoscope of color choices, “You look like a fucking rodeo clown.”

Trisha sighed. No, she wasn't mistaken. This was definitely Merte in the flesh, “Who are you looking for, Merte? Serje Niko?”

Merte smiled. Trisha doubted the girl was dumb enough to spill any secrets. She needed to get the girl back to the Waking Realm where she could be properly interrogated.

Merte stepped onto the street, facing her. They were about twenty feet apart, “You know,” Merte said, “Here, you can change what you're wearing just by willing it. We're in the Dream Realm, for God's sake. Why would you stroll around wearing such a mismatched outfit like an idiot?”

Trisha ignored the insults and said, “There are people looking for you, Merte. We know you've been helping the aberrant and we know the lycanthrope is coming after you next. We would like to place you into protective custody.”

Merte laughed, the echoing effect caused her laugh to sound like a braying donkey, “You don't know shit! I don't need any protection. Do you have any idea how powerful I am? I could roast you alive within seconds. The only reason you're still alive is because I was bored and wanted to talk but now, you're beginning to bore me again. I'm only going to ask you one more time, who the hell are you?”

Trisha said evenly, “Who I am is not important to you, little girl. We need to get you back to the Waking Realm so that the aberrant can be killed. Since you insist you don't need us to protect you, we'll just use you as bait instead.”

Trisha saw a flash of movement then flames erupted from Merte's outstretched hands. Trisha raised both of her arms, quickly summoning a force of energy in front of herself as a makeshift shield. The humming energy was a translucent blue, popping and sparking with concentrated mana. The flames harmlessly struck the force field and winked out.

Merte laughed and applauded, “Wow. Good for you! Since you're able to perform a dimensional travel ritual, I figured you must be an accomplished Mage. I'm glad to see I was correct.”

Trisha was losing her patience with the damn brat, “Enough games, Merte! Come with me back to the Waking Realm or I will attack you.”

Merte shook her head, “That's not going to happen. I'm not going anywhere. I guess we'll have to see which one of us is more powerful than the other.”

While employed by the Dhelfoi, every agent was required to practice magically dueling each other on a regular basis. Trisha had a lot of practice fighting other Magi so she was very confident in her own abilities. She began to channel magical blue forceful energy around herself. There was no real air within the Dream Realm, but there was still a representation of swirling blue energy as it crackled and swirled around her.

In combat, she had very few distance attacks as a Manipulator. Trisha would use her short spatial jumps and focused energy to strike her opponent at close range utilizing her forceful energy.

Merte smiled at her, “I'll even give you the first swing just to make it fair. Bring it on, bitch! Show me what you got!”

Just to make it fair? Trisha couldn't believe the teenager's arrogance. Still, she felt butterflies of nervousness in her stomach over the fight to come. Since Merte was foolish enough to grant her the first attack, Trisha was going to make it a good one and finish the battle as quickly as possible.

Short spatial jumps were her specialty within the Waking Realm during her duels. Trisha used them quite effectively to win most of her duels but they were always very taxing on her mana reserves. Here, in the Dream Realm, the short hops were possible without exerting her mana. Merely utilizing the impossible lack of physics would suffice for her to teleport as many times as she wanted, without using any mana costs.

Merte was in for a serious surprise.

Trisha used a short spatial hop to vanish and instantly reappear directly in front of Merte. Her opponent barely had time to gasp in surprise. Trisha then focused her forceful magic around her palms and struck Merte as hard as she could in the abdomen, sending the girl flying.

Merte was thrown about thirty feet away and landed hard on the sidewalk, then she tumbled a few times crying out in pain. From her prone position, Merte managed to launch a quick ball of fire at her, but Trisha spatially jumped again, reappearing directly over Merte's stretched out form. Gathering a massive amount of forceful magic around her fist, Trisha struck down at Merte's head, planning to finish her off but somehow Merte barely rolled away in time to avoid being killed. Trisha struck the sidewalk where Merte's head had been and it exploded, sending dust and chunks of concrete flying.

Since she was still within punching range, Merte caused the air around herself to burst into flames, trying to roast Trisha but she quickly teleported away again, safe from harm.

Trisha had exhausted a good deal of her mana forming the forceful energy, so she was panting. She knew that during magical battles, it was wise not to overexert. Careful and thrifty use of mana always paid off if the battle was extended. She wondered if she could employ her forceful energy without mana but really didn't want to test it out during a real duel.

Merte slowly got to her feet. She was injured but not seriously.

Trisha was very disappointed that she failed to finish the duel quickly.

“Okay clown-girl,” Merte said, “I'll admit it. I'm pretty impressed. You're a lot tougher than I thought you'd be.”

Trisha growled, “And you're lucky to be alive.”

Merte feigned shock, “You mean you were trying to kill me? No arrest? No fair trial? Has my sentence been decided already? Am I to die?”

Trisha was determined, “You had your chance to surrender and you chose to squander it away. You're going to die tonight, Merte.”

Merte laughed again, “So we're fighting to the death? Oh, how exciting. I thought this was just a friendly match.” She placed a carefully manicured finger to her perfect lips as if she were thinking, “I'm not sure I want to continue.”

Trisha was willing to give her another chance, “Fine. Surrender now and come back with me to the Waking Realm.”

Merte began to raise her hands, then she said, “On second thought, fuck you!”

Trisha vanished again, but this time, she traveled past Merte so that she could attack the girl from behind. As Trisha reappeared, she realized too late that Merte had raised powerful flames in a circle around herself. Trisha blinked away but she felt the searing heat burning her. Her clothes were scorched and both her legs were slightly burnt.

Merte lowered the firewall and launched a huge ball of fire at her. Trisha easily blinked out of harm's way. The fireball exploded into the nondescript buildings. Flames licked up the walls as they began to burn but then the strange dream environment quickly extinguished the flames. Merte launched another fireball, forcing Trisha to spatial travel twice more.

Trisha teleported away to the next block, hiding herself from Merte's view. She was in a lot of pain and her inability to focus was preventing her from building up her mana. She was dangerously low on magical energy. She realized that not only had Merte's flames burned her physically but also torched her focused energy, draining it away from her.

Merte laughed and called out, “Is that all you can do, bitch? Run away, jumping around like a Goddamn monkey?”

Trisha was amazed that a teen aged girl could become such a powerful Mage. Trisha had decades more experience yet she found herself in a close fight. She was going to have to change tactics. If she blinked in at Merte again, the girl would merely deploy the fire wall burning her alive.

Trisha used the break in the fight to begin to channel more mana into her reserves. She risked a peek around the corner and watched her opponent for a few seconds.

Merte was still taunting her, her fists were raised in a mock boxing stance, “Come on, bitch! You wanted this fight. Let's finish it! Quit hiding like a fucking coward!”

Trisha stepped away from the corner and Merte spotted her, immediately launching a barrage of fireballs at her like throwing baseballs with both hands. The fireballs whistled as they flew, the red and orange glow was impossibly bright within the dimly lit Dream realm. Trisha raised both hands, summoning another force field and, with much effort and expense of mana, held it in front of her so that the fireballs were rendered ineffective against it.

“You and your Goddamn shields!” Merte spat at her. She began to channel, probably to ignite a column or to create a ring of fire completely around Trisha to kill her.

Trisha held out her hand flat with the palm upward, concentrated and created a flat surface of forceful energy underneath Merte's feet. She then made a motion of bending her fingers up, causing the forceful energy beneath her foe to quickly arc upward, bowing outward in the middle like a rebounding trampoline. The energy beneath Merte's feet buckled, causing her to stumble, breaking her concentration. Trisha knew this was her chance, probably the last one she had before Merte incinerated her.

Trisha raised her arms before her, curling her fingers, as if she was grasping a softball with both hands. She exerted everything she had left, dropping the energy shield in front of her and encircling her opponent with a bubble of concentrated forceful energy. Merte was trapped within. The haughty girl said something, most likely an insult, but Trisha couldn't hear her because Merte was completely encased within the sphere. The bubble hummed, glistened and sparkled with crackling blue translucent energy. Every flame that Merte summoned from within the bubble immediately winked out as the available oxygen was quickly depleted.

The look of fear flashed over Merte's pretty face as she realized she was going to slowly asphyxiate within the sphere.

Trisha felt her reserves quickly running out. Sweat broke out on her brow with her efforts to maintain the bubble. Trisha began to channel mana, gathering it up as quickly as she spent it, barely managing to keep up with her exertion of it.

Within the sphere, Merte grasped her throat as panic set in. Her face was a mask of pain and horror. She pounded on the inside of the bubble with her fists, then her shoulder, desperate to escape. When she met Trisha's gaze, her eyes were pleading for mercy.

“You had your chance to surrender, Merte,” Trisha said fiercely, even though she knew her opponent couldn't hear her, “I will give you no quarter.”

Merte was gagging and choking. She continued her panicked efforts to escape the confining sphere.

“Why don't you try blasting me with another fireball, little girl?” Trisha hissed.

Merte was losing strength. She collapsed to her knees then fell onto her back, twitching and writhing in agony as she choked to death.

Trisha was pleased that she had not been seriously injured during the fight. Merte was a skilled Elementalist, probably one of the toughest that she had ever faced. She was still amazed at how someone so young could be so skilled at magic but also, how she had evaded detection by the Dhelfoi for so long.

Pangs of guilt assailed Trisha as she watched her opponent's death throes. Merte was evil. She had helped and guided an aberrant kill her friends in cold blood. There was really nothing for Trisha to feel guilty about, yet she still felt a pull on her heart, a nagging feeling of regret.

At least I won.

There was a sudden movement in Trisha's peripheral vision.

Trisha barely had time to notice the tall shadow of the Werewolf as it loomed. It was right beside her, towering over her, the massive silver coated body only a foot away from her. The beast was leaning down toward her, the mouth was wide. Trisha could see the sharp rows of teeth, the dripping drool and she could smell the stink of death on its breath.

Trisha blinked away just in time as the creature's powerful jaws snapped shut like a trap.

The Werewolf gave a snarl of frustration and leaped after her. Trisha had traveled forty feet away but the aberrant covered over half the distance in a single bound. The Werewolf lunged at her again, the eyes were blazing with a yellowish fire, the arms spread, gnarled clawed hands reaching out and the mouth was opened wide. Just when it was within range of tearing her to shreds, Trisha blinked away again.

“Damn you, Serje! Why are you helping her?” Trisha shouted angrily. The Werewolf continued its pursuit every time she blinked away from it. Trisha couldn't travel too far because she had to remain within sight of the sphere in order to control it. Although her short teleportation jumps weren't draining, Trisha was having trouble blinking away and still maintaining her sphere of force around Merte. The Werewolf wasn't ready to listen or it was incapable of understanding. Either way, Trisha was at her limit. At the last second, she dropped her control over the bubble and used the last of her mana reserves to teleport home, all the way back into the Waking Realm.

Trisha arrived panting in her own living room. She wasn't sure whether Merte was dead yet. Trisha wanted to keep the girl inside the airless bubble until she was absolutely positive Merte had choked to death. She had abandoned the fight not being sure whether Merte had survived or not.

Many questions without answers remained. Why was Merte helping the aberrant? How had such a powerful mage escaped detection by the Dhelfoi? How had the aberrant arrived in the Dream Realm? Why did the Werewolf appear to be defending Merte? How much control did Serje maintain over his consciousness while he was a Werewolf?

Trisha was frustrated that she had not advanced the investigation but, as she looked around her comfortable home and her thoughts drifted once again to Captain Mikhail Dragomirov, she was happy to be alive.


 

* * *


 

Serje was awaken from his deep slumber to the sounds of shouting, explosions and odd sounds of rippling energy humming through the air. Of course, the sounds were completely distorted by the Dream Realm but he was still able to discern that some type of confrontation was occurring. In this bizarre environment, the strange sounds were even more curious and fantastic as though Serje was listening to a battle scene in a science fiction movie.

Serje kicked off the blanket peering out through the dim window, finding only darkness. He was going to have to check it out on foot.

Serje put his shoes on and left the neglected building, heading towards the sound of battle, the wolf companion close on his heels. A woman was screaming out taunts, egging her opponent to fight her. Serje reached the drag of Dream Realm version of Tuhloon and saw a woman standing in the center of the intersection.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

It was Merte.

Another woman appeared and they began fighting, Merte summoning fierce flames and casting balls of fire. The magical flames were hot, Serje could feel the heat from his hiding place. The other woman was deflected all of Merte's attacks.

“You and your Goddamn shields!” Merte shrieked. She began to chant, hot red smoking energy swirling around her. Suddenly, Merte stumbled and was completely encased within a bubble of crackling blue energy.

Serje watched as Merte was being killed. He could not allow it. If he, himself didn't deliver Merte's coul on the specified day, his contract with the Dark Man of the Woods may not be properly fulfilled. Although he enjoyed watching Merte suffer, she was coughing and flopping within the bubble, Serje couldn't risk the other woman taking Merte's life instead of him.

Serje cinched the wolf skin belt around his waist. Upon becoming the Werewolf, he advanced on the stranger. He felt badly that he was killing a bystander, an innocent, someone who had nothing to do with his revenge or his contract, but it had to be done.

The strange woman smelled nice. She was dressed in multicolored clothing, like a clown and was pretty, for her age. The older woman glanced at him at the last moment, Serje could see fear in her gaze. He felt so guilty about harming an innocent person, that Serje actually closed his eyes as he grasped her delicate body in his horrible claws and sank his fangs into her soft throat. His claws and teeth found nothing but empty air. Somehow, the clown woman had teleported away from him at the last second.

“Damn you, Serje!” The woman said angrily, “Why are you helping her?”

Serje had no idea how this older lady knew his name, but he didn't give up. He charged her again and again, repeatedly trying to kill her until finally, the woman disappeared completely.

Once the stranger was gone, the force field around Merte also vanished, leaving her laying on her back in the middle of the street. She wasn't moving.

Serje was excited by Merte's helpless form. He wanted to begin torturing his prey as she was sprawled out but his logic took over from his instincts. If she was dead, it could be all for naught. He loosened the belt and went to her, grabbing her wrist, feeling for a pulse. Serje could feel her heartbeat. He could also see her chest rising and falling shallowly. Merte was still alive.

Good.

From the store across the street, Serje quickly found some electrical cord and used it to bind her hands behind her back. Then he slapped her face harder and harder until she stirred. Once again, having Merte helpless before him flooded Serje with blood lust but he shook it off. He was going to have fun with Merte first, before he killed her.

Merte groaned and moved a little.

“Wake up, Merte,” Serje said sweetly, “Its time for you to die.”

Merte managed to sit up. She looked pathetic, her hair was a nest, her makeup ruined and she had thrown up all over herself. As dazed as Merte was, she appeared hung over, like she had just woke up after having a massive party the night before.

Merte yawned then said, “Oh good. Its you, Serje. We have so much to talk about.”

The wolf companion circled around behind her, growling deeply in its throat. Of course, Merte was completely unaware of its presence.

“Actually,” Serje said grimly, “We've got nothing to talk about.” He glanced at his watch. It was 1am, officially the next day. He could begin.

Serje violently tore off her soiled hooded robe and cast it aside. Then he did the same to her blouse sending buttons flying.

“You're almost there, Serje,” Merte said, seemingly nonplussed that he was stripping her down, “You only have one more victim to claim. You're so close to completing what you started.”

“I know,” Serje said. He unhooked her bra and ripped it off of her. He took a few seconds to admire her large breasts then he began to roughly pull off her skirt.

“You're not listening to me, Serje!” Merte said, trying to get him to make eye contact, “Stop staring at my naked body and pay attention to me!”

Merte was only wearing a flimsy pair of pink satin panties. Lying on her back, she could have been a model in an adult magazine, painfully sexy and beautiful. Serje feasted his eyes on her perfect physique. He couldn't wait to hear her screams.

“If you kill me, you'll be cursed to stay a Werewolf forever,” Merte warned him.

Bullshit.

Serje carefully removed her panties, admiring the carefully trimmed dainty cleft of her womanhood then rolling her over on to admire her perfect ass. He could hardly wait to taste her.

“You didn't perform a ritual, Serje,” Merte explained, “You only started one. I completed it for you.”

Serje frowned at her. All of her lies were really distracting. He thought about gagging her, but then, how could he hear her sweet shrieks of pain?

Fondling her breasts, enjoying how heavy and full they felt in his hands, Serje said, “I didn't rape any of the others. I felt it was beneath me. But after all of the violent ways I invented to make them suffer, I believe I was holding off on rape just for you.”

“Fine,” Merte said exasperated, “Take me as many times as you want, but do not kill me. You'll be screwing both of us over if you do.”

“Instead of trying to bullshit me, you should try begging me to spare you,” Serje told her, “It won't work, but you may survive a few hours longer if you beg.” Serje was thoroughly enjoying how good her body felt in his hands. He was stroking and grabbing her to his heart's content growing more and more excited by the second. Nothing on her body escaped his busy hands. Merte did nothing to stop his groping of her. She was completely compliant, which excited him even more.

Merte said, “I was there too, Serje. I was there the night you called forth the Dark Man of the Woods.”

Serje hated how she kept trying to distract him, “Bullshit. I would have picked up your scent.”

“No,” Merte said. There were tears in her eyes. As calm as she was pretending to be, she was frightened and upset that he was groping her, “I was in the Dream Realm performing the exact same ritual. I was there at the same time and in the exact spot as you were. That's why you couldn't detect me. I was there, but in a different Realm of existence.”

Serje hesitantly stopped fondling her, “You're a fucking liar!”

Merte scooted closer to him, so that their faces were only inches apart, “No, Serje. I introduced you to the book of spells that you found in your backyard. How do you think it got there in the first place? I tortured you at school, pushed you to the point where you lost control so that I was the one you wanted to punish the most. It was all me from the beginning! Think about it!”

Serje kissed her, he couldn't help himself. Merte slid her tiny tongue into his mouth and he felt a rush of sexual energy coursing through him. He had waited so long to feel her lips on his. How many hours had he spent fantasizing about Merte?

“Yes, Serje!” Merte gasped, “You can have me! As many times as you want! I'll give myself to you! All of me, Serje! My mind, my body and my heart!”

Serje's heart was hammering away in his chest. He was more excited than ever before. Merte was finally his!  Serje was so excited to have Merte all to himself, even if it was only for a few hours.  He pulled her close to him, Merte's nude body was draped in his lap, her head cradled in his arms.  Serje could feel the heat from her bare skin, like tingling electricity, trickling through his hands and racing through his body.  He would agree to anything Merte wanted so long as she gave herself to him freely.


Submitted: January 14, 2018

© Copyright 2021 Cthulu45. All rights reserved.

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