Merrie pranced down the street, her tail wagging. It was just before dawn and a late summer rain had just blanketed the city in a thick layer of puddles and mist. The shade was tight around her body, protecting her from sight and preventing anyone from asking questions about the bite marks on her shoulders, sides, and thighs.
Tamin paced next to her, his thoughts brimming with the afterglow of their fucking. His cock hung below his body, sated but still too swollen to slide back into its sheath. Translucent droplets of cum splattered on the ground below him, misting away as the fading light of sun touched it.
They were heading back to the guild hall after an exhausting day at a puppy show. It was a discrete affair, where the upper crusts of society took on the roles of “owning” each other and parading them around like pure-breed dogs on the carpet. She smiled as she listened to them talking about “high tails,” proper posture, and “well-formed flanks.”
(They were all just thinking about sex.) Tamin panted with his own thoughts burning with lust.
(That's the point. Everyone was having fun.)
What surprised Merrie is how they responded to her. After the first show she went to, a year ago, she demonstrated the difference between someone pretending to be a bitch and an alpha. They were very polite to explain why she could no longer compete. But, everyone loved to see how she read minds and obeyed commands before they even fell off the tongue.
This time, however, was the first time she was wearing a judge's ribbon and barking out commands to the submissive bitches, male and female, kneeling on the floor.
(And they were creaming at feeling your mind inside theirs.)
His alpha sat on the carpet, gloriously naked, and staring at five ranks of ten people. She had her hair pulled back into an elegant array that showed off her white ears and bared her neck. The judge's ribbon hung from her collar. Her breasts rose and fell with her excitement and he was getting horny by watching her commanding the submissive bitches.
The bitches in front of her were the rich of society and enjoying their sex games. Most of them weren't thin or beautiful, but they were all sexy in their own right. He was disappointed that none of the ears and tails were permanent, just illusions and temporary transformations.
She barked out a command that no one outside of the fifty bitches could understand. (Sit!)
As one, they sat down. Their cheeks were flushed. Pussies and hard cocks dripped with excitement. They all wanted her. They all wanted to be her in that moment.
The alpha's tail wagged back and forth. She barked another command. (Roll over!)
Merrie grinned. (They were all coming during that part.) She had picked out a pretty young man to be the blue ribbon winner. He had on a short miniskirt and a matching collar. His ears were fake and his tail was just a ribbon, but he made up for it with enthusiasm.
(He was just happy that he got to fuck you in front of everyone.)
She panted softly at the thought. The winner had mounted her in public, jamming his cock into her soaked pussy as she made a show of coming. And, as she orgasmed, she let it leak out of her shields enough for all the bitches on the floor to come with her.
The rest of the show ended up an orgy that involved her getting banged by dozens of people, but the short orgasms didn't satisfy her for long. After it broke up in the early morning, she and Tamin slipped out for a violently animistic round of fucking that would have sickened more than a few people at the show. They were happy with the playful games of bitches, not the darker side that appealed to her, but Merrie needed both now.
The afterglow of her orgasm ran dark in her veins and she continued to prance next to him, her breasts swinging in time with her tail. The heavy collar thumped against her neck, the triple beat of her first master. She didn't know why she felt the beat, but she didn't want it to ever stop. She couldn't and wouldn't forget Kine, no matter what.
Her only regret was that she left the judge's ribbon behind. The other judges had clipped it to her hair for her role. She loved wearing it, prancing and barking, but she had no place to put it.
(Why didn't you keep it?)
Merrie slowed down and leaned against Tamin. (Where would I put it? I lost my cloak during the battle and you don't have pockets.)
Something prickled her mind. She frowned and looked up at the massive hound towering over her. Black eyes stared at her and she got the sense he had knowledge he wasn't sharing with her.
Her lips curled back. (Speak.)
(I think you can get it back… in a sense.)
Her heart skipped a beat. (Really?)
Without the cloak, she was helpless and it set a low level of pleasure thrumming against her senses. She knew she couldn't do anything and it only added to the intensity of her actions. But, she missed the flexibility it granted her. She could survive alone in the mansion. It gave her hands and the ability to work with money instead of needing to direct everything to Nir or pay for someone to handle the simple things like bringing food.
His alpha was on the ground in a puddle of blood. It coated her legs, knees, and breasts. Her mouth was opened in agony, eyes no longer seeing and her arms frantically clutching to the black collar at her knees.
He tried to go to her, to serve her. As he crawled closer, their connection grew into a black, shadowy chain as she drew his life away to keep herself alive. He gave it to her, even as he struggled to save her. The agony slammed into him and he crumpled to the floor. She needed him and he couldn't help her. Black flames rose along his body and he clamped down on the connection to prevent her from knowing that he was dying.
The cloak pulled out of her, the narrow head rising up above her again. It swayed like a snake, shifting from side to side as his alpha slumped to the ground. It shuddered and began to fray as it writhed and twisted on itself. It dug into itself as a pocket came into view and pulled out the ring with the tip of its fake head. The shadow stone glistened darkly in the light. The cloak formed a tendril and reached out past her bleeding body to gently drop the ring over the end of the collar.
Tamin couldn't say or do anything as the ring slid down to the bottom of the collar's curve and swayed back and forth. The brilliant glow from the collar seemed to gather on the stone.
A moment later, a circle of red runes appeared on the ground and Tamin stepped out.
Merrie whimpered at the memories that came from her alpha. There was something unnatural about the way the cloak moved. She still remembered as it pierced her heart, but she wasn't even thinking about the ring. (Why didn't you tell me? What is it, the cloak? Is it my master?)
His body seemed to waver, as if the shadows themselves were boiling to escape his body. (The cloak is your shadow. Not the Shadows we walk in or the darkness that surrounds us. It is the shadow underneath your body, the opposite of the light that reflects against you.)
(But… it was in my master's wardrobe. He wore it for years! It can't be my shadow.)
Tamin's eyes focused on her. (Everything corrodes in the shadows and you've been in the dark for many years. The cloak you wore has long since rotted away.)
A memory welled up through their connection, of her pulling the cloak from the wardrobe. She was thin and ragged that day, starved for a week and desperate for suicide. More memories came up in a flash: her cowering in the rain, the night she was desperate to find shelter from the cold, begging next to a young girl name Nir, crawling down the street. As the memories came, she didn't see any changes at first, but he guided her attention to what he saw. In one memory, the cloak caught on a nail and tore. The next, it was repaired with darker threads. Rents and patches appeared and were replaced with darkness. And with every replacement, the shadow she cast on the ground faded and the cloak grew more animated.
She also saw other changes happening to her. She was happier with every moment, the pain of her loss fading away. Her hair grew lighter and then began to bleach out, first at the tip but now she had completely white hair on her tail and hair and eyebrows. Little changes she somehow missed in the slow change over years became painfully obvious.
Merrie also watched herself grow in power. From barely able to manage to beg for food to the warrior bitch fighting next to Gillette only a week ago. Everything had changed, but she never realized how much until he showed her.
(Tamin, why didn't you tell me?)
He looked away for a moment to stare at the light crowds passing around them. (You're happy and you haven't thought much of it since that night. Since then, you've been fucking the prince, recovering energy, and having fun. Tonight was the first night that you were healthy enough,) he looked back at her, (and strong enough to get it back.)
Merrie smiled. (You didn't tell me because I wasn't ready?)
Tamin panted.
She felt sad realizing that the animation in her cloak wasn't from her master, but just a reflection of her growing power. She glanced down to where her shadow pooled on the sidewalk around her. (Can I just do it?)
(You are my Alpha, you can do anything.)
She smiled at his thoughts. Sending a pulse of love to him, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She never thought about animating her shadow, but she had already turned herself into darkness and stepped aside. She dredged up her memories of the cloak, not only of using it but how it felt to control it. She remembered the will she took to form fake legs the first time in front of Gillette and also at Lady Anasome's perfume shop. When she isolated the sensations, she held it in her mind and brought up more memories. They came from watching it steal like Kine, ripping the throat out of her opponents, and even the one time she gave Tamin a hand-job during a bath.
Tamin glowed with lust and pride as she drenched herself in the memories and plucked through them, not forcing the cloak out of her but just remembering.
Sweat prickled her brow as she let the individual events fade away, leaving only the sensation of the cloak. It was her arms and legs, it was the reason she wasn't as helpless as she could be. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared down at the ground.
The edges of her shadows danced from the light of the lantern above her and the growing light of the dawn. It grew hazy and then began to peel up off the ground. It felt like pulling a wet rag off a counter, sucking and clinging, as the darkness formed into a shimmering fabric she knew so well.
She giggled and lost control. The cloak melted back into shadows. Glancing up at Tamin, she blushed with embarrassment.
But there was only love from the hound as he watched her.
Taking a deep breath, Merrie sent herself a command, using the collar to turn it into an order from her mistress. (Create the cloak.)
It came rippling back and she couldn't disobey. With a flare of power, she ripped the shadows up from the ground. It billowed out around her in a black cloud before solidifying into the familiar shape of her cloak. Joy spread out through her as she felt the energy draining from her to give the cloak a solid form once again.
Tendrils exploded out from the cloak, plucking at the pockets of the people passing by. None of them were aware as they were lifted of wallets, money, and rings. She realized that it was part of Kine that was inside her, the sharing of their memories, and let the cloak steal for a few seconds before reigning it back in.
As the icy fabric wrapped around her body, she enjoyed the comfort of being dressed again. The black cloak squeezed her tight before molding to her body, outlining every curve and hugging to her skin.
She looked up at Tamin and smiled. (Thank you.)
He stepped forward as a wave of dizziness slammed into her. She leaned into his icy body. (I love you, Alpha, for the rest of my life.)
She breathed in the scent of Shadows from his body. Rubbing her face against the short, cold fur. The dread was stronger, despite the happiness. She could feel something settling into place. Her collaring, the prince, and the cloak. Changes were happening faster to her and the tension was rising quickly. (It's coming soon, isn't it?)
There was the briefest of pauses. (Yes.)
(Do you know who it is? What is coming for me?)
Tamin shook his head. (I don't know—)
Merrie tore her gaze away from Fucker as Haviston stood up. She peered up at him expecting to see her grandfather, but Haviston was nothing like the memory that just raped her. He was short, barely a meter and a half in height. He had a beard that ended in a point so sharp she wondered if it could pierce wood. His hair was close-cropped, a buzz cut, but his eyes caught her attention. One was bright and clear, but she couldn't identify the color. The other was milky and formed the center point of a scar that ran from his right ear to the top of his head.
Her heart thumped loudly at the sudden thought. It didn't come from Tamin or even herself, but a forgotten memory rising up inside her. She had no reason to think about Haviston, not since she left the mill five years ago. The only times she did remember the man was when she visited her grandfather's memories, but those lessons had long since ended.
Her blood ran cold. She remembered the last time she remembered someone out of the blue, it was the day Grange attacked the mill.
Haviston was close and he was looking for her.
Tamin's hackles rose and he growled low in his chest. (Danger.)
(In the shadows,) she commanded. Calligraphy swirled across her mind as she cast the spells for strength and speed. She had merged the enhancements she learned from inspecting Alestri's armor. The spell was more complicated than before, but the collar took it and magnified the results. The leash between her and Tamin grew black as the power flowed into him.
With a fierce joy, he stepped into the darkness and was gone. She could feel him as the barrier between the two worlds thinned. They were still close, but it was because the collar pierced into the Shadows as easily as they stepped across.
Merrie wrapped her shields tight around her mind and sent out four pulses to find Haviston. He would know she was looking for him with the pulses, but she needed to know where the attack came from.
The response came back almost immediately. Merrie shivered as she looked down the street, past the milling people, to where Haviston stood on a corner five blocks away.
The psychic hadn't changed much in five years. He was still the thin, short man wearing a white robe. His hair was still close-cropped and he still trimmed his beard into a short point. He had more gray and the bald spot on his head was larger. As if sensing her thoughts, he turned and she saw him focus his eyes on her. Even from a distance, his one clear eye seemed to pierce through her shields.
(Hello, Merrie Golddother. You are looking pleasant this evening.) Haviston's monotone carried over through his thoughts and she was slammed with the intensity of his cadence and the power behind them. But, even as she felt a fear prickling her skin, she realized she was far more powerful than the last time they parted.
She focused on the short man. He was brimming with protective magic, all psionic. It wasn't the normal protections she would expect for strolling across town, but the defenses of someone about to go to war. The strength and speed spells that he taught her wrapped around his body, pulsating in perfect harmony with physical protection and additional layers of his shields.
To the normal eye, he was just a short man with a bad eye. But, to Merrie, there was only one reason he was protected that way. He was coming for her.
Keeping the shields tight over her mind, she projected carefully. (What do you want?)
(To talk and nothing else.) There was no hint or suggestion he was lying, not through the monotone thoughts or his body language.
Between them, people continued to walk down the streets or mill around, unaware of the tension that was growing between the two telepaths. Merrie reached out with her mind and sent them away, clearing the street with a brief domination spell. There was a member of the Whore's Guild, a young man who preferred to use his large cock on men, and she imprinted a suggestion into him to alert the guild. She didn't know if there would be a fight, but seeing Haviston's defenses, she didn't want to risk it.
Haviston watched the street empty, looking around without a smirk or frown on his face. (You've improved beyond the lessons, I approve but there are others who will not.) Haviston's face didn't twitch but his thoughts were filled with tense approval.
(A lot has happened.)
(I'm interested in listening.)
Merrie tensed. (Why?)
(It's been five years, two months, six days. I'm sure that you and I have many things we can discuss. I've only heard rumors—)
As he spoke, she felt the first questing of his mind against her shields. His probe was subtle as it pried into her mind, trying to find something. She felt it like an itch on her skin, right below the base of her tail.
She interrupted his thoughts. (What are you looking for?)
The corner of his lip curled up. (Improved indeed. I'm correcting a mistake I made before you left.)
(What mistake?)
(A compulsion that was, sadly, applied with an intensity without properly regard to your weaknesses as a True Submissive.)
Merrie didn't know what he was referring to. (What compulsion?)
Haviston didn't answer, but his probing grew more insistent. There was the faint flicker of emotions in his thoughts as he searched for something in her head. His touch was light but steady, working along her mind without drawing the memories associated with the areas he was exploring.
She tensed and reached out with her own mind. She encountered his shields, perfectly smooth and crystalline, but she had broken into far more protected minds in the last year. Merrie didn't bother with subtly, she reached back and slammed hard against his mind. (What are you looking for!?)
Haviston stepped back from the impact. (Just relaxed, Merrie Golddother, this won't take a moment.)
Merrie snarled and stepped closer. Her new cloak wrapped around her tighter as wisps of shadow rose up around her. She focused on the collar, activating more of its protections.
Black shields wrapped around her mind, adamantite bands that bound her leather-clad dog image in armor. It clamped down on her wrists and legs. Icy metal slammed into the orifices of her mental self and she felt a burst of power rising inside her with the helplessness that came with the image of being locked away.
(Interesting, but—)
(What are you looking for!?) Merrie threw all of her fear and anger into a spear, piercing through Haviston's shields.
The crystalline shields shattered from her attack and Haviston stepped back in surprise.
He was sitting at the table in the great hall, staring across the table to where the Bassimar Sarmo and Eolis Thine stood shaking hands. The two thribans were as opposite as they were similar. Both were former warriors, but where Eolis Thine was a martial artist bound by geas and loyalty to the country, Bassimar Sarmo was a paladin who was abandoned by his goddess and had loyalty only to the family he made. Even their appearances were opposite from Eolis Thine wearing his suit and Bassimar Sarmo in a farmer's garb of trousers and a button-down shirt. The two men were allies and enemies at the same time, but at the moment they were in agreement.
“We'll leave a day after you head back with the taxes,” Bassimar Sarmo said in a grim tone.
"Be careful, Bass, she's more powerful than you remember her."
Bassimar Sarmo nodded. "Of course, she's an Alpha."
"Yes, but she's something more. I've seen Sable and Dixie fight. Even when she was starving and helpless, she was stronger."
Clarissa de Kilvin peeked up from underneath the table. Her brown hair shimmered as she panted softly, but there was an intelligence in her eyes that Haviston Kivas always struggled to equate to the carefree attitude the older woman had. He envied her, she was free with her emotions where Haviston Kivas was bound by many things. She crawled over her bench, her breasts bumping against the wood, and padded over to her master.
"I'm sure we can handle her. I'm bring Sable with me. Even if Havi can't handle her, my girl will talk sense into her."
Haviston Kivas fought the annoyance at the shortened name. Like most people, they didn't understand the need for precise labels.
“Just,” said Eolis Thine, "be really careful. People that pay attention to these things are calling her an Omega, an Alpha without the limitations of a master."
Bassimar Sarmo snorted and patted Clarissa de Kilvin again. “Alpha, Beta, Omega. People insist on putting labels on things. She's an Alpha, from cunt to tits. I have a duty to her and I'm going to right the wrongs,” he shot at glare at Haviston Kivas, "that we've had done."
Eolis Thine opened the door. "I wish I could help, Bass, but I can't. I have my loyalties and they can't be put into question."
"I know. I won't ask you."
"And if you get caught by the city guards or the knights…."
Bassimar Sarmo chuckled and held the door to close it. "Same as usual, I'm screwed and don't kill anyone when I escape."
Eolis Thine looked worried for a moment. Then clapped his hand on Bassimar Sarmo's shoulder. "Be careful, Bass. She might kick your ass."
(Don't probe further,) projected Haviston. His thoughts were a command, quiet and impassive. It was just shy of a domination spell and a trickle of blood dribbled from his nose.
Her body grew hot with her desire to obey. But, she couldn't listen to him, not if he was coming for her. She sent herself a sharp command, forbidding her from obeying the psychic down the street. The command came echoing through the collar and she latched on to it, shoving his thoughts away as she obeyed her mistress.
Haviston's eyebrow raised. (A feedback loop using a geas and a crystalline filter?) He sounded surprised. (I didn't think it was possible.)
(Get out of my head!) She continued to crawl toward him, the shadows around her swirling with power.
(I must dispel a compulsion and then—)
(Get out!) She punched forward, throwing her mental might behind it. It slammed into him.
He thrust back at her, trying to evict her from his mind. (I cannot. This must be done before more mistakes are made.)
Merrie snarled with her lip pulled back. Her body tensed as magic flowed darkly through her veins. With her mind, she crawled past his shattered shields and into his head. She dug around, trying to find his purpose in finding her.
(Merrie Golddother, you must not—)
Bassimar Sarmo sat down heavily. “Haviston, are you sure you can handle her?” He was worried though Haviston wasn't.
"She has a simple compulsion on her. Even with everything Eolis Thine described, I need only a minute of concentration to dispel the magic and then I can remove it."
"I wish I could come with you. Alphas can be very powerful when they are defending their master."
Haviston Kivas shrugged. "As Eolis Thine said, she has no master. If I can avoid any references to bringing her back to the mill or her previous master, I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to dispel the compulsion without triggering it."
Bassimar Sarmo didn't look convinced. His Alpha, Clarissa de Kilvin, rested her head on his thigh and sighed. One arm reached up, cropped to the elbow, and caught over the muscular limb. She pulled herself tight and looked at up at him.
(Merrie Golddother, do not continue reading my thoughts.)
"The main question is what you plan on doing after I remove the compulsion? It sounds like she has acquired a reasonable means of living in Franome City. She has also established a series of firm relationships with a guild and those she could call friends. What would the purpose of removing the compulsion be?"
The thriban stroked Clarissa de Kilvin's head with one hand as he looked across the table at Haviston. “It's my duty. I know I don't have a promise to protect her, but it's been five years. I should have been there when she lost her master. I should have protect her and I couldn't, because of the Duke's edict. And that charm, your charm,” he pointed one finger at Haviston Kivas, "can get someone hurt if they say the wrong thing."
"You sold her. Your obligation ended as soon as the collar was removed."
Bassimar Sarmo's face grew dark. "Just because I promised to protect them until they were sold doesn't mean I have to let go when the promise is fulfilled. I take care of my bitches."
"And if she is unsafe in Franome City?"
Fear clouded Haviston's thoughts. She could feel him spinning spells in his mind, more protections and strengthening the ones already there. He tried to force her out, but she refuse to leave until the last memory was played out for her.
"Then I'll bring her back to the Puppy Mill."
Merrie froze with a gasp. The memory repeated itself in her head, of Bass speaking in a tense tone. He was going to take her back to the Mill. Her rapist had come for her.
Around her, the shadows deepened and magic flowed through her veins. When she focused on Haviston again, she could feel the anger and rage boiling inside her. (I won't go back.)
Haviston's body flared with psychic magic. Compulsions wrapped around him, trying to avert her eyes from him in a psychic shade.
Merrie shook her head. (I won't go back,) she repeated.
Black tentacles burst out of the darkness.
(I won't ever go back!) She transformed into a hound and charged toward him. Magic flowed around her, tearing up the bricks and wooden boards of the sidewalk as she sprinted across two blocks in a blink of the eye.
Haviston disappeared, his repulsion spell protecting him. His thoughts grew diffused as he tried to shift her attention away.
Tamin burst out of the darkness and struck, chomping down on his leg and flipping him up with magically-enhanced strength. A spray of blood marked Haviston's injury as he flipped over and came down.
Merrie slammed into him, knowing she was biting down on empty air but her teeth punched through the flesh of his left arm. (I will never go back to the Mill!) Her conviction burned brightly as she shook him violently, trying to snap the bones in his body.
Magenta flames burst out from his body. It seared the inside of her mouth and she choked on the sharp, ozone smell. Releasing him, she staggered back and rippled through human and hound form to stop the flames.
Haviston held out his hands, one toward Tamin and the other toward her. He was panting and she could see the pain his face. “I do not,” his voice remained as monotone as before, “intend to hurt you. I must—”
He wanted to take her back. Merrie's thoughts became fixated on the realization and the claws of anger ripped into her. She could never go back. Magic flowed through her as she felt something gripping her mind, forcing her to think of nothing else but the man who was going to take her away.
Drawing on the darkness, Merrie let out a bark and pumped magic through a calligraphic spell that drew across her mind. Black tentacles burst out of the shadows underneath Haviston. They punched up underneath his robe and he shuddered at the pain.
(Down!) The force of his command slammed into her. It froze her limbs and stopped her mind. Blood dripped from his ears and nose as he yanked her mind away from the spell.
The black tentacles faded into mist, but it didn't stop the crimson splatters that struck the ground between his legs.
Panicked, Merrie reached out for Tamin, but she could feel the hound was bound like herself. The compulsion magic was strong, just dancing along the edges of Haviston's geas. She could see it tear into his body, gnawing like some beast as more blood poured from his ears and nose and mouth.
(I need… to remove this compulsion, Merrie Golddother.)
She whined and fought against the domination. He was blocking her from ordering herself, twisting spells in her head to prevent her from switching her mental image to a mistress to bark out the command.
Crystal fingers dug into her mind, prying through her memories as he sought for the spell. He was going to take her to the Mill. The same thought kept repeating over her head and he was following it down, trying to find the source of the only thought keeping her free.
Merrie cried out and fought against the compulsion, tearing at it as she lashed out. She can never go back, not to her rapist. Not to the woman who cropped her. It was hell there and she refused to go.
(Ten seconds.)
The first of the obsidian butterflies slammed into Haviston's chest. It was followed by another and another. He looked up just as a swarm of them punched him and he was thrown back from the impact. Splatters of blood flew everywhere as his compulsion snapped and Merrie was free.
“Bitchy!” cried Elf as he landed on the ground. The large man was sweaty as if he had been running. Butterflies surrounded him a multi-colored cloud. “Did the man—”
She snarled and dug her paws into the sidewalk. The wood rotted underneath her feet and she surged after Haviston.
Less than a meter away, Tamin spun and disappeared into the darkness. Calligraphic spells ran across his thoughts as he threw spells at himself. His personality faded as he sank into her own mind, giving her access to use him as part of her own body.
Haviston barely managed to struggle to his feet when Merrie caught him again. There was a look of surprise on his face, but he started to punch into her mind again, trying to remove her last independent thought.
She grabbed him by the arm and spun him as hard as she could before throwing him into the air. Magic burned brightly in her veins as she braced herself and charged after him.
His body sailed across the street and crashed into the second-story wall. With a groan, he slid down it but Tamin burst out of the shadow underneath a windowsill and chomped down on his arm. He threw Haviston across the street again and dove back into the darkness.
Merrie transformed into a shadow and sailed along the ground and up the wall. She came out of the darkness just as Haviston's body hit the wall like a rag doll. The sound of his bones crunching echoed loudly across the street. She got a look of his dazed expression as she grabbed him by the shoulder. (I will never go back!)
With her magical strength, she threw him and watched as his body sail over a block before plummeting down.
“Bitchy, I can't fly that fast!”
She sent out an apologetic wave and transformed back into a shadow.
There was a wet crunch as Haviston slammed into the ground. The pain shattered the remains of his shields and she felt a hard wave of fear and agony radiating out from him.
Tamin came out of the darkness and bit down on his hip. With a growl, he shook Haviston violently before throwing him back down the street toward Elf.
The toss was only half a block in distance but Merrie was just coming out of the shadows when Haviston's body slammed into the ground. She could feel him struggling to reach out for her, to attack her, but she surged forward and snapped the air, centimeters from his throat. (Stop!)
She threw everything she could into a domination spell, punching through the haze of pain in Haviston's mind. She could feel the his broken leg and shattered arm. He was in agony, more pain that he had ever experienced before, and struggled to keep control over his emotions.
Haviston opened his bloody mouth to say something. Two of his teeth were missing from the impact against the wall. Shudders of agony coursed through his muscles. He was casting spells to separate himself from the pain.
(I will never go back, Haviston.) Merrie opened her mouth and reached for his throat. (You will never bind me again.)
Fear coursed through his mind, a blossom of raw emotion shattering his control. She felt the control peeling back and the memories welling up, of Haviston on the ground with Bass' sword at his throat, the moment he was convicted of his crimes, the letter he got from Rendi bringing him to the mill. They were raw and sharp and clear, memories that he refuse to dwell on for years in his search for an orderly mind. Tears ran down his cheek as he tried to push her away, but his body slumped back.
Her teeth snapped but she missed. She jumped forward, aiming to rip his throat out and end the danger he posed to her.
“I'm… sorry,” he gasped through a broken jaw. Raw emotions burst out of his mind: regret, guilt, and fear. He was looking into the jaws of death and she could feel his mind trying to push back the illogical pain to grasp at something. Spells burst out, none of them direct at her, but reaching out to his surrounding for some way of preventing his death.
Merrie shook her head. No, she could never go back. She snarled and lunged for him again.
A bell rang out through her mind. (Attention all city guards! Attention all city guards!) It was Gail, Tai's lover and one of the dispatchers of the guards. There was a hum of concern in the Observant's thoughts as she included Merrie. (Eyewitnesses have reported that Lady Anasome has been kidnapped from the Coal Street Cafe. Last reported location is Green and Lackey. Paladins of Lemetri are currently in pursuit and request guard assistance. Attention all city guards, assist the paladins in the recovery of Lady Anasome and her apprentice.)
With a gasp, Merrie pulled back and stared at Haviston. (Was that you?) Her thoughts were burning with anger. Her snarl matched her emotions.
Haviston shuddered and fresh blood poured out of his mouth. “N-No.”
Elf came rushing up. “Bitchy! Are you okay?”
Merrie ignored Elf as she stared into Haviston, looking for the trick. There were spells around him, but none of them could have imitated Gail. Hesitantly, she reached out for the Guard Observant. (Gail?)
(Oh, Lacy! I'm sorry, I had to include you. Lady Anasome has been kidnapped and I know you're friends. The report says a thriban in white plate armor snatched her off the street. I just got a report that they were seen going into 1910 Lackey.) An image of a warehouse blossomed in Merrie's mind.
Merrie closed the connection and snarled at Haviston. (I will never go back.)
Haviston's eye was dazed. He tried to project something but she blocked him as she turned to Elf. (He's a psychic and he wants to take me away.)
Elf looked horrified for a moment and then he glared at Haviston. “How do I keep him out of my head?”
Merrie looked around and then down at Haviston. She snapped forward and bit down on his ruined left shoulder. Planting one foot on Haviston's chest, she threw a strength spell through her body. And then an idea bubbled up in her mind. The Shadows corrupt everything it touches, including flesh. She started to create a spell, something to seal wounds during combat, a touch of shape-changing, and all blended with the corroding effects of the Shadows.
She began to cast the spell, gathering parts as the black runes ran across her mind.
Haviston reached into her mind, trying to figure out what she was doing. And then, she felt realization blossom across his mind and an intense wave of fear that almost stopped his heart. He screamed shrilly, “No! Don't—”
She pulled and there was a wet tearing noise as she ripped his arm off at the shoulder. A splatter of blood burst out of the wound, coating the street in a wash of crimson.
Black flames burst out from his shoulder and the edges of the wound darkened as if burned. The blood stopped and became pitch black. In her mind, she could see the memory of his arm burning away, seared away not only at the physical but the spiritual level.
The rest of him continued to bleed crimson, but the ragged end of his shoulder died in her jaws, sealed forever by Shadows. All that was left was withered flesh and bone.
She had cropped him.
Haviston's eye rolled up into his head as he slumped back.
(Beat him with this,) she snapped and tossed the arm to the Elf.
Elf, his face pale with fright, grabbed for the arm, but missed. It landed on his foot with a meaty smack.
With a growl, she and Tamin stepped into the shadows to save Lady Anasome from the one man Merrie still hated more than anyone but Rakin: Bass.
She was going to kill her rapist.