“Kelgar!!! Oh Kelgar! Where are yew bein’ my little honey bee?!”, Igrayne called out loudly, not quite able to suppress a snicker as she imagined Kelgar hidden further from the clearing, fuming at her cries. She did not know exactly where they were but she knew they were close enough to hear if she called out loudly.

It was a warm night, the heady scent of drooping blooms hanging thick in the air. The full moon hung above her, dragging heavily at the sky leaving a trail of twinkling stars as it descended. They had been there for hours, already the glowing white orb had made her journey across half of the sky and now she was drifting wearily towards the horizon.

Igrayne was exhausted too. The many hours of fear pressed down on her body like the weight of the heavy night air. Perhaps he would not come. And then there would be a month between, every day, looking to the night sky as the moon slowly swelled like a rotting corpse. And then another night like this, waiting and waiting until the constant blanketing terror finally suffocated her. She did not think she could bear it… better he would come tonight and it would be done with, whatever the outcome might be.

A chill breeze whispered through the trees, shuddering its way through the leaves, brushing their turgid bodies hedonistically against one another.

Igrayne involuntarily shivered, wrapping her trembling arms around her body. All she had to do was scream and they would come. The duke had promised. She would be safe. The breeze carried a new scent, the pungent smell of rotting and decay, withering the soft offering of the blooms in its foul clinging tendrils.

She looked around frantically but despite the light of the moon she could not see anything. Then, two shadows detached from the edge of the clearing flowing towards her.

She opened her mouth to scream as loudly as she knew how.

Instantly her throat was in the iron-grip of two icy hands, her body lifted from the ground by the neck, the beginnings of her scream choked into nothingness.

She opened her eyes to see the bloody red pools of his, the snarling mouth, the jagged sharp teeth.

“It shall not scream”, he growled and then pulled her against the length of his hard, cold body.

Igrayne had never been held by a man. She could feel the icy clinging of his skin, even through her dress, his hands caressing her back. He kissed her, his tongue slithering obscenely into her soft, open mouth, the metallic taste of blood pouring into her. So this was what it was to be wanted by a man. She felt her body growing supple and willing beneath his stroking hands, her fingers tangling in his hair, her mouth pressing hungrily against his.

“There now… is that not a little better?”, he pulled back from her, holding her wilting body languidly in his arms.

She could not speak, could not move as she looked into his eyes, the cruel curve of his brows, the sneer of his swollen lips, a small trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. She dimly wondered if it was her own.

She heard footsteps approaching as the other figure glided towards them, crushing small white flowers beneath the heels of her boots.

“Is she tainted?”, the woman asked, her voice an icy chill running down the length of Igrayne’s spine.

“Oh no mon amour… she is just fine. Her blood it is sweet and fresh. Oh God, it tastes so good”, the man replied with a shudder, his cold fingers running down Igrayne’s side as he turned away from her.

“Let me taste”, the woman replied with a hungry growl and pouncing on the man kissed him passionately.

Igrayne knew it was not polite to stare, that she should turn away but she found she could not move at all. She could only watch with longing as the man ran his hands roughly down the woman’s body pulling her to him, his mouth panting against her, her body moaning against his.

“See mon amour… is it not fine?”, he pulled away from her looking searchingly into her eyes, “It pleases you, no?”.

The woman pushed him away and turned to Igrayne, her expression soft and welcoming, her smile kind. Igrayne saw that it was the nun, Sister Mella but she did not feel surprised. She smiled tentatively back.

“Ah… she is precious isn’t she? Such a sweet girl”, Mella sighed, stroking Igrayne’s face with her frigid fingers.

She was so beautiful and pious, so good, a blessed wife to the church.

The fist that collided with her face did come as a surprise as sending Igrayne’s body flying backward with the massive force of it.

She did not fall, an icy hand grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet, rows of sharp fingernails digging painfully into her tender skin.

She sobbed quietly, bringing her trembling hands up to her face, blood trickling from her nose and into her mouth, running down the back of her throat so that she gagged, choking and crying.

Mella leapt at her with a snarl, and to her horror Igrayne felt an icy cold tongue, sliding around the edges of her nostrils, lapping hungrily at the blood that ran steadily down to her mouth.

Still she could not make a sound louder than a soft groan of dread, as the revolting tongue flicked over her face, licking at her trembling lips, forcing its way into her mouth to get to the blood that was pooling there.

When she released her Igrayne turned meekly to the man, pressing her bleeding, tear-stained face against his cold hard chest, feeling it shaking as he softly chuckled.

“Oh now ma petit fille… so you think I can help you. Not one can help you now”

And he shoved her back into the waiting arms of Mella.

“Oh… so you don’t like me so much after all girly?”, she snarled and began to shake Igrayne, her fingernails ripping into Igrayne’s back, tearing at her dress.

Igrayne’s mouth opened in a silent sob, as she felt blood trickling down the back of her thighs. Her hair came lose as Mella pulled at it till clumps tore free from her scalp.

“Why doesn’t she scream”, she heard Mella’s anger through the red ringing pain.

“Oh I am very sorry pisliskurja… I forgot to let her”, she heard the man huskily replied.

Suddenly she could move again and she turned to run before her legs failed her. There were men who would help her she remembered. She just had to get to them.

She was dragged back by the throat, Mella pulling her close to her face so she could smelll the stink of blood and rot hissing from her mouth. One cruel hand slid its way down her side and closed around her own flailing one.

“Now scream”, Mella purred as she snapped Igrayne’s finger in two.

And Igrayne did.