The limits of comfort

He was awoken in the middle of the night by a noise.

As he came to, he recalled it was the first day of the summer vacation. Next year was to be his last year of high school. He didn't have any ideas as to what to do afterwards, so he just bid his time for now.

The noise repeated itself. It seemed to be coming from the attic. Burglars? They've been living in a quiet suburban neighbourhood. Could it be his mother? She was sleeping, as far as he knew. Yet the noise - it resembled a feminine voice.

Andrew got out of bed. The night was clear, starry, warm and humid. It was, after all, the onset of summer. According to forecasts, it was also the onset of a scorching heat wave. Usually Andrew took some summer job, but this time the prospect of working in the boiling heat made him feel lazy.

The voice called out again. It was surely a voice of a woman.

The boy set out to the attic, in spite of the uneasy feeling building up in his stomach. Lately he's been watching too many horror movies. Haunted houses were all the rage this spring, and the trend was predicted to continue all the way to the autumn. Andrew already went to see a few and found them quite amusing. It was only now that he regretted seeing "The Darkmore Manor Haunting II", as the situation was resemblant of the one faced by one the movie's characters. It started with ominous voice coming from somewhere inside the house, and concluded with said character being gutted by a small girl with terribly long hair and even longer claws. All the while the poor guy was on his way towards his doom Andrew wanted to cry out: "Don't go there, for fuck's sake!". And there he was now, walking towards a voice calling him out in the middle of the night and wondering that maybe, just maybe, there's another spectator watching him on screen, walking towards the certain death, and suppressing his urge to cry out to him to stop just because he's sitting in a packed cinema...

"... elp ... "

Andrew froze before the attic doors. Father used to keep his stuff there, shortly before he and his mom divorced. Nothing fancy, some old gear, an old bike, maybe some old magazines.

Magazines don't scream for help.

"... ease! ..."

Andrew pushed the door open. He half-expected a girl with long claws to jump on him, but instead found himself confronted by the darkness and the quiet. It was even more terrifying than the sound echoing in the night. Complete nothingness.

The magazines left in stacks near the walls, collecting dust. Some cobwebs hanged from the ceiling as well. Moonlight fell from the dirty skylight, barely illuminating the place.

Andrew was about to get out, when he heard another sound. This time it was not a voice calling for help, it was a sound of a rolling object. The boy froze in place, too terrified to move.

The round object stopped at his feet. It looked like those crystal balls used by fortune-tellers, but small enough to fit in a pocket. It just lay at his feet, and then lit up from inside. Andrew jerked at the sight.

" ... Anian... udulai ... hilfe ... help ... "

The feminine voice was seemingly calling out in many languages. It was husky and sensual, and if not for this fact Andrew would never reach out for the object. But he did and lifted it to his eyes.

The inside was filled by a woman's face, or an image of a woman's face. She had blood-red lips and black, beautiful eyebrows. Andrew thought she might be wearing makeup. But why wear makeup when you call for help?

"Areian seya? Anyone here?... Est-ce que..."

"Hello?", the boy whispered.

The woman's face froze. The expression was that of sudden, unbelievable hope. Whoever the woman was, Andrew realized she was desperate.

"Do you speak english?", she asked in a strange accent.

"Yeah, I do", the boy realized his voice was shaking, "What the heck is going on!?"

He realized he raised his voice too high. His mother was sleeping and she'd give him hell if he woke her up.

"Quiet", the woman whispered, "My voice is reaching you, but yours can reach the place where I am. If it happens..."

"Who are you?", this time the boy was careful to keep his voice down, "What is going on?"

"My name is Eleyan Ney, and I'm in trouble. Where are you? America? Britain?"

"U.S.A.", transliterated Andrew, his voice still shaking, "And where are you?"

"Meirenn", the woman said, "I don't have time for explanations. I reached out to the nearest Blackstone I could find with my will; it's the only thing I can do right now. How old are you?"

"Seventeen. Now tell me..."

"I understand that you must be puzzled by what's going on, but right now you're my only hope. I'm held in the Ice Palace of Abbaramanon, beyond the forest of Narval. Our... expedition went terribly wrong. I need someone to get there and set me free. I hoped it might be someone from the Diaspora, but I don't have the luxury..."

The image and the voice began to grow faint.

"Hello? Hello?", Andrew's fear turned into curiosity.

" ... breaking up ...", the image stabilized itself, "We must use the Blackstone to establish direct connection."

"What?"

"Just keep the stone in your hand."

Before Andrew had time to digest her words, there was a flash of light and the familiar attic was gone. What appeared in his place seemed almost perfect whiteness.

The boy realized the whiteness was that of snow and ice. He stood inside a room carved in the ice, yet he felt no cold.

"Here!...", the voice, a hushed whisper, was almost thundering in the terrible silence.

The boy turned in its direction and gasped.

The woman calling him was completely nude, her body so shapely that in America she'd land a job as a swimsuit model right away - if she wasn't hired by a porn industry: round and natural breasts supplemented by flat stomach and long, completely smooth legs. She wore her long, raven-black hair tied in a pigtail. Andrew also realized that she could not move - she was chained, hands over her head, to the ice wall.

"My interrogator took a break, so we have some time to talk before she returns. Whatever happens, don't put away the Blackstone. That's the ball you're holding.", she said.

Andrew couldn't resist the temptation to touch the exposed breasts, especially given that their owner was at the moment shackled and powerless. He reached out to them, but his hand went through as though they were made of mist.

"You're still physically in your home. You can't do anything here even if you wanted. And I need to know WHERE is your home."

Andrew gulped.

"We're living... In the suburbs... Of New York... "

The woman let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you living alone?"

"With my... mother... "

"Listen carefully, my life, and life of others, depends on it: take the Blackstone to the Madame's Fourier Psychic Store. Don't show it to anyone, not even your mother. "

"How do I find this Psychic Store?"

"I thought that you have something called the Internet in the mundane world? Madame Fourier is actually a member of Diaspora. She'll know what to do with the Blackstone. Please hurry!"

Footsteps thundered in the empty corridor.

"Oh no, she's coming back", whispered the woman who called herself Eleyan, and the vision ceased.

The transition from the white room in the other world to the darkness of the moonlit night was so abrupt Andrew gasped. It was again summer, the night was filled with the singing of cicadas.

The boy looked at the stone he was holding in his hands. It was once again dark.

The woman...

The very memory of this beautiful woman, naked, helpless and pleading for his help made his testoerone-driven imagination kick in high gears. He'd rescue her and then she'd... She'd...

"What's this noise?", a tired, but familiar voice called out from downstairs.

The boy hid the crystal ball in the pocket of his pajamas. His mother stood menacingly in the doorway to the attic, wearing her usual sleeping set of a t-shirt that bared her midriff and white panties. She was nearing forty and an attractive woman for her age - an investigative journalist, popular enough to be offered, discreetly, a photoshoot for one of the men's magazines, an offer she turned down, much to Andrew's regret, who had to admit that as perverted as it was, he'd be interested in looking at the photos himself.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't sleep", he said.

Her short, blond hair seemed a little more messy than usual. Being single she often went on dates, being attractive she was a magnet for men, but to date she didn't find anyone to replace Andrew's father.

"I know you've got two months off now, but I need to be at work on time tomorrow", she said, "Please take it into account."

"Yes - yes mom."

She mumbled something to herself and went downstairs.

Andrew took the Blackstone out from his pocket. It suddenly came to him - he was holding in his hand a ticket to the world of magic and adventure. Just like in the fantasy stories he read when he was younger, with nude women added in for good measure...

Nude women.

Andrew went back to bed, but it was long before he fell asleep. He still had her face before his eyes. What did she say she was called? Eleyan?

When he finally slept he dreamed of Eleyan; of himself rescuing Eleyan like a brave hero; of them making sex.

He lay in his dreams until noon.

----------------------------

The paper Elena worked for was one of those big, fat newspapers that widthstood the transition to into the digital age, with headquarters located in a skyscraper overlooking the entire city. She first entered the place ten years ago, timid and anxious, still reeling from the divorce, having narrowly won the custody over her son Andrew. Nowdays, when she took the elevator up to tenth floor, where the team held its daily meetings, she felt that she was in the center in the world. At a moment it was so; successful and attractive in spite of her age she was turning into something of a minor celebrity, the kind of woman other women envied and all the men desired. This time, however, she was to be late; because of this incident in the attic - was Andrew sleepwalking? She almost felt as if she herself were, as she found it diffucult to get back to sleep after being woken in the middle of the night. She looked at her watch. Nine twenty-five am. Only five minutes to the meeting - she made it.

In the corridor she bumped at Jake Sullivan, her unaptly named chief who, as always, emanated a fatherly aura and greeted her with a fatherly smile.

"Everything okay?", he asked, noticing her slightly dissheveled state.

"Perfectly fine", she said, her eyes downcast.

"You're later than usual."

"Oh, it's because of my son... He woke me up in the night."

Usually she was at work much earlier, already having checked her mail before the meeting.

"I'll check the mail and be right there", she said.

Sullivan nodded with understanding. After all, she was the star. Delays on her part could be forgiven.

She turned on her PC. Even though everyone used notebooks these days, Sullivan insisted on using old, stationary PCs. That was because, he said, the information stored in a stationary computer is safe. Perhaps he never heard of hackers.

To make things worse, the OS booted terribly long. When it did, Elena turned on the mail client, skipped the more usual stuff and then found a message she never expected to find on her work mail.

"Come meet me at noon at Blue Mountain. It's a matter of life and death."

The mail was sent from the address of Beth Reynolds, a friend she lost touch long time ago. When her fellow students set their eyes on careers Beth decided to leave for the East to study exotic religions - or rather to immerse herself in them, like an old school hippie. The place she proposed for her meeting was also symbolic: Blue Mountain was a bar, or rather a diner that they used to frequent when they were still students - and still friends.

Elena looked at the watch. Nine-thirty. She swore and left her desk.

-----------------------------

At first Andrew wanted to eat Kellogs for breakfast. But before he even got up he masturbated and came to at least three times. Naked woman asking for help was the stuff all the teenage dreams were made of. And now the dream became real.

He sat before the plate filled with the flakes that floated sadly in the cold milk.

She needed help and she needed it now, whoever she was.

Andrew glanced at the pocket "psychic ball" he found in the attic. "Blackstone", the woman called it.

Psychic. What was the name of this place?

"Madame Fourier's Psychic Store."

He went to his computer to check the location. As was to be expected, it was located in Manhattan, hidden among other astrological and occult establishments, where the posh, the bored and the jaded went for their daily dose of escapism.

She needed help and she needed it now.

Andrew left Kellogs on the table, having only two spoonfuls of the chastity-inducing meal, and went out. The day was sunny and hot, the second day of the summer holiday. The adventure called.

------------------------------

"She said it's a matter of life and death, Sully", Elena felt she was growing nervous, "I'd rather cancel today's appointment, especially given it's about bloody filler we have for the summer holiday."

Sullivan looked at her, but said nothing. He mulled her words.

"She spent few years in the East. Perhaps it will be about human trafficking. You know what we get if we actually expose a trafficking ring?"

"She might also be crazy", said Sullivan, "From the way you described her it might actually be so."

"Did you ever regret trusting my instinct, Sully?"

He sighed. His face didn't express worry, only fatherly concern. It was then that she remembered he had no children of his own.

"All right. You never let me down before. It's the only reason I will cancel the appointment. I hope Jeffries will understand."

"I'm sure he will."

In the matter of minutes Elena was downstairs, before the office building, and then she remembered that she almost forgot where Blue Mountain was. She knew the general location but the specifics were blurred. She now had to urgently rememeber.

---------------------------------------

Thankfully it was cool in the subway; standing there among other passengers and clutching the Blackstone hidden in his pocket Andrew felt important. He passed by a few attractive girls and young women, but they were no match for the nude prisoner he saw somewhere outside of this world. Of all the people she chose him, to save her from her plight.

Once back on the street he had to resort to Google Maps to navigate, as the shop was located in the tangled web of side-streets. The streets themselves were flooded with heat and sunlight; those who walked in business suits looked like they were about to boil, and, to be frank, those who wore lighter clothing didn't look better.

It took about half an hour for Andrew to actually find the place; it was hidden in the pleasantly shaded alley, away from the scorching summer heat. The signpost above it was slightly torn, and it actually read "Mrs. rier Psych op", with most of the letters faded or torn off. Andrew knocked on the door.

For a while there was no response. The boy was about to turn back and leave, when, all of a sudden the door opened.

Andrew was half-expecting to see an aged crone, and was pleasantly surprised to see an attractive, blond-haired girl at the door. She wore a smile that he could only classify as "wicked"; it was a mixture of sensuality and clearly demonstrated feeling of superiority. Sort of: you're just a small little boy, I don't give a damn about you.

"We're closed for summer holidays", she said, still wearing her smile.

"I need to see Madame Fourier. It's about..."

"I don't care what it's about. The shop is closed."

"... Blackstone. "

The girl was about to slam the door in front of his face, but stopped when she heard the word "Blackstone".

"What did you say?"

"I have the Blackstone."

He reached down to his pocket and produced the crystal ball.

"Eienan vara Yane", the girl said, in a slightly different tone, and waited.

"I... don't understand.", Andrew said after a moment of uneasy silence.

The girl looked up at him, puzzled.

"You're not one of..."

"Look, I found this thing in my attic, with some woman's face pleading for help."

The girl shook her head.

"Come in", she said. This time her voice was cold.

The blinds were down and the interior of the shop was almost completely dark. What little light came from outside was consumed by dust; Andrew could barely discern some typical occult paraphenalia lining the shelves.

"Stay here", she said and disappeared somewhere in the back.

Andrew could hear two raised voices engaged in conversation. One belonged to the girl, the other to a slightly older woman.

Finally, the doors opened and a tall, slim, dark-skinned woman went in. There was something oriental about her. Andrew wondered whether she was Tibetan or Indian - she had long, wavy, black hair, and a prominent bust barely hidden by her fitting, red dress. Other than that, she was almost lithe, and if not for the circumstances of the meeting Andrew would have found her attractive.

"Who are you?", she asked right away.

"Andrew Spitzer, m'am", Andrew felt more and more uneasy, "I found this in..."

"Show me the Blackstone", said the woman.

The boy reached into his pocket and produced the crystal ball. The tall Indian ( as he called her now ) snatched it from him with almost furious impatience. She looked it over and started muttering to herself in the same melodic tongue the girl has previously used.

"Look", now Andrew was starting to feel impatient, "I want to know what's going on. I found this thing in the attic, some woman spoke to me, said she's held in Ice Palace, and..."

"Undress", snapped the Indian.

"WHAT!?"

"You heard that. Take off your clothes."

Andrew turned to the blonde girl, looking for some kind of support, reaction, or explanation, but all he got in return was the mocking smile that never seemed to leave her face.

"You can't do that!", he snapped back, "I'm a minor! You'll end up in jail as sex offenders!"

The Indian said something to the Blonde, and the latter approached him and twisted the arm behind his back. The boy yelled in pain.

"I don't think you fully understand your position", she held his t-shirt by his collar and tore it down.

"Help! HELP! HEEELP!!", Andrew was yelling to the top of his lungs.

"Oh, cry as loud as you can", said the Indian, "Nobody's coming to help you."

----------------------------------------------------

"Blue Mountain" was a diner located at the outskirts of the city. When she first found it, Elena liked its remoteness. It was a place that served fine food and alcohol and seemed, because of its anonimoty, somehow special. Its very sight was what brought back Elena's memories of her student days.

In fact, she was surprised that it was still there. That it survived all the economic turmoil that ravaged the country in the past two decades.

In her mind's eye Elena imagined Beth running out of the establishment, them they would hug, like old friends who didn't have opportunity to talk for such a long time, and then Beth would spill the beans about a story that would cement Elena's position as the rising star of the investigative journalism. Much to her regret, however, the place looked quiet. Elena parked her car at the driveway and went in.

Her first impression was that the place was empty. The next one was that it was ransacked. The glasses were tipped over, some broken; alcohol spilled on the floor, already drying in the hot air of the summer day.

"Hello?", she called out to the empty walls.

To her surprise, she heard some muffled sounds answering her call.

The journalist's mind kicked into high gear. Beth obviously found something. She wanted to share her knowledge, but someone followed her here. The place was raided and ransacked before she could spill the beans. It was an open question why the assailants preferred to tie (presumably) the employees in the back rather than kill them outright. Perhaps they believed in their complete impunity. If so, the case must have been more dangerous than she previously thought.

Elena took a deep breath and opened the doors leading to the kitchen. She thought she was mentally prepared for what she was about to see. She wasn't.

Three people wiggled on the floor, bound hand and foot, struggling against their bonds. Pale against the dirty kitchen floor they reminded Elena of fishes out of water. In addition to being bound and gagged, the victims were also completely naked.

The oldest was Brianna, the place's proprietor, an attractive blonde-haired woman that now reached Elena's age and didn't lose any appeal in spite of it. Now, with her flat stomach and full breasts, she almost epitomized the archetype of a sexy mother. Next to her was a dark-skinned girl in her twenties; Elena decided she must have been from either Cuba or Puerto Rico. Brianna always sought out attractive women for waitresses, and this one was no exception.

The youngest captive was a male around Andrew's age. Elena remembered that seventeen years ago Brianna had a baby; this must have been her son, now helping her with the establishment. Through either accident, or the perverse sense of humour of his captors, the boy's head rested on his mother's round breasts. His member was erect, and Elena could only guess at what was now going on in his head.

Beth was nowhere to be seen.

Elena rushed to help the captives. First she ungagged Brianna.

"Untie Jason", she panted, "Untie my son, please!"

"What happened?"

"Untie my son!"

Elena never left home without a combat knife she once bought in a weapons store. Her job sometimes landed her in slightly perilous situations, something she sheltered her son against, and now this implement was about to prove useful. She cut the young man free, then they proceeded with freeing Brianna. The Puerto Rican was the last on the list.

"DEVILS!", cried out the girl as soon as her gag was removed, "They were not human! They were devils! They used magic!"

"Quiet, Selena", Brianna said in a shaking voice, "Just keep quiet."

"It's true", said Jason, rubbing his wrists, "They came in and this woman said something and the glasses started to fly. They didn't even touch us. Those fuckers..."

"I told you not to swear!", said Brianna.

"... those fuckers just made the clothes fly off us, and the ropes to come to us. They took this woman with them and ..."

"What woman?", Elena was sure it was Beth.

"Short black hair, tall, nice tits", said Jason.

"JASON!", Brianna's attempts at reprimending her son were doomed to fail, given the overall situation.

It was Beth, realized Elena, they took Beth.

"Get dressed", she said, "I'm calling 997".

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't know about Abbaramanon", Andrew was growing tired.

He stood for almost an hour, naked and bound, hands over head, in a dark and dusty room, while the Indian repeated her questions over and over. In the mean time the Blonde stood in the corner, eyeing him with barely-conceived lust, her eyes now like eyes of a predator who was about to jump on her prey and tear it apart.

"Then how do you know the name?"

"The woman in the glass told me", the boy's voice was now tired and quiet, "She told me she's being held in the Ice Palace of Abbaramanon. She needs to be saved."

The Indian pondered his words.

"You have no right to keep me here", said Andrew.

The Indian said something to the Blonde, something that sounded almost like a reprimand, and then left the girl with her captive.

The Blonde approached Andrew and began playing with his exposed genitals. The boy was too resigned to object.

"Don't worry about Mrong", she said, "She's always very strict. Her job is very... demanding and... her responsibility is so great that she sometimes overreacts."

"... no right to keep me there ... "

"I personally believe you. How else could you came in posession of Blackstone? What was the name of this captive woman, do you remember?"

" ... no ... "

"But if you are right, then Mrong screwed up again. We should be on our way to Meirenn rather than holing ourselves in here and waiting for the Order to actually issue an order."

"... she said you would help ... "

"And perhaps that's what we should be doing. After all, the Blackstone ..."

The Blonde looked the boy in the eyes.

"Do you like me?"

"... what do you ..."

"Do you find me attactive, as they say in this world?"

"... yeah ..."

"Okay. Favor for favor. I cut you loose and set you free. But I want you to meet me again. You probably know for what."

"... no ... "

"Oh, you know. Or even better. Come with me. Come with me to Meirenn. I know bringing an outsider is a risk, but..."

The girl said something in this cryptic language of hers. Then she disappeared behind the door.

When she came back, she was holding a knife. Andrew protested.

"Don't worry. Just before I cut you off..."

She reached out towards the boy's genitals and fondling them again. This time Andrew couldn't control himself. A fountain of sperm shot from his erect member.

"Always the same", said the girl and giggled. Andrew thought something was off, but he couldn't place what it was.

The girl used the knife to cut his bindings. The boy collapsed to the floor. Then he sat up and started to rub his sore wrists.

"Mrong, Mrong and her principles, Mrong and her wait and see approach to things", she said, almost to herself.

It was only then Andrew that realized she's speaking in the foreign, melodic tongue she used to converse with a woman called Mrong, and that he can somehow understand her words.

"I know what you're saying", he said.

"Do you think I'd put you on the way to Meirenn without knowing the language? Ok, let's go before Mrong comes in and spoils..."

"... spoils what?", the doors were pushed open.

"Speak of the devil", thought Andrew.

"Neyrenna, what I told you? Not to play with the captive, not to cut him free."

"But Mrong, if he's right then we're just days away from a disaster. This woman he spoke about could have been..."

"Neyrenna, I put the food on your table, I provide you with training, I give you orders. Is that clear?"

"As the southern sun. But if he's right, then..."

"Do you know what happens when you disobey me?"

"Mrong, we're wasting our time."

"Do you know?", Mrong insisted.

The girl sighed.

"I know."

"Then prepare yourself."

The girl pulled the her t-shirt over her head. She didn't look scared, only annoyed.

"I tried the Blackstone, and you know what? It's dead! Dead!", Mrong held the ball in front of the undressing girl, "And this young man was their ploy, nothing else."

"You're wrong, Mrong", said the girl called Neyrenna, "But whatever you say."

She unclasped her bra, freeing a pair of round, youthful breasts.

"If we lose the war it's because of mistakes such as this one", Mrong pointed again to Andrew, who sat on the floor, watching Neyrenna undress for her punishment with fascination, "And stupid young girls such as yourself"

"Whatever you say, Mrong."

She already was barefoot, having taken off her shoes and socks.

The rest of the undressing took place in silence. Once Neyrenna was completely naked Andrew decided that in addition to having an impressive rack she also had an impressive posterior. The girl positioned herself against the wall, said posterior protruding towards Mrong.

"Count the swats."

Mrong's open hand landed on the girl's buttocks. The impact must have been significant, as Ney's entire body shook, from her ass to her shapely breasts.

"One."

Another swat.

"Two."

Another.

This time the girl had to swallow her saliva before she answered.

"Three."

She counted up to twenty swats before Mrong allowed her to dress.

"I'm sorry", she told Andrew in her tongue.

"Oh, don't tell me you allowed him to understand our speech.", Mrong was less than happy, "I should have given you more swats. But never mind that. Let's just make sure he doesn't leave this place until the situation is clear. I already contacted the Order. They're checking things up on their side."

She left. Neyrenna blew a kiss towards Andrew and left as well. The boy heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock. He was now alone.

----------------------------------

"Shit happens", said Jeffries.

The police officer, Elena's one of most trusted informants and friend, didn't seem to be shocked at all. Of all the men she knew she had most sympathy for him, knowing that he's a middle-aged, married guy with children who wouldn't hit on her. There was something about him that made her feel safe.

"Really?", she raised her eyebrows.

They were standing before the Blue Mountain. The police was busy interrogating the victims and investigating the crime scene. Usually in such situations Jeffries would have a cup of coffee, but now, knowing what harrowing ordeal the diner's staff have been through, he decided to let them collect themselves. If they ever would.

"Really. From time to time the burglars will undress their victims to terrorize them. Hell, you should know that."

He paused.

"They weren't physically hurt, but I'm afraid the mental scars will stay."

"They took Beth."

Jeffries looked at Elena.

"Are you sure it was her?"

"The description fit."

Jeffries lit a cigarette and took a big puff. He offered his pack to Elena, but she shook her head.

"I'm trying to quit."

"I'm sure you will. I know I did. Many times, actually."

He broke into a cackling laughter that Elena found contagious.

"It's more than burglarly, it's a kidnapping", she said.

"We need to see if anything was stolen, but at the moment it doesn't seem so."

"So they came for Beth."

Jeffries nodded.

"If it was her then we can assume that was the case."

One of the policemen waved at Jeffries. Inspector approached him, Elena followed.

"It's a woman's bag."

"What's inside?", Elena asked.

"What's with her?", asked the officer.

"She believes it was her friend who was kidnapped."

"I have strong reasons to believe she was", she snapped, "Is there any ID? Driving license?"

"We need to secure the evidence before ..."

"Just hand me the bag!"

The officer cast a puzzled glance at Jeffries.

"She's Elena Spitzer", he said, "If she wasn't a journalist, she'd be a detective herself."

The officer shrugged and gave Elena the bag. She started rummaging through it.

A book about Tibetan Buddhism. Map of Kathmandu. Business card of a yoga center in New York. Driving license.

The license belonged to Beth Reynolds.

"It was her", she said.

Jeffries took a deep breath.

"If there were fingerprints on this thing now they're lost."

Elena discreetly took the business card and placed it in her pocket. Perhaps the center would prove to be a lead.

"Did anyone say something about fingerprints?"

The young officer that approached them seemed to be in his twenties, looked like he was constantly chewing on something and wore an expression that said "Go to Hell". Elena mentally labelled him as "Mr. Fuck You".

"Did you find any?"

"That's the problem, none at all. The only prints belong to the staff."

"How did you know before they went to the lab?"

Mr. Fuck You grinned.

"We have this new app that does the preliminary recognition right on the scene. Cool stuff, isn't it?"

"Ok, so the only prints were the victims'. Does it mean they undressed and bound themselves?"

"They say devils did it."

Jeffries couldn't believe what he heard.

"That's what they said. The devils."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--------

Andrew sat in the corner of the dark and dirty room, naked and defeated, when the door opened.

"My mom will be looking for me", he said.

"Oh, I know about your mom", said Mrong, "Come along, you need to see this."

She led him to the store, shaking and covering his genitals out of modesty.

There was a light emanating from the counter. Ney was there as well, wearing her smile of permanent superiority.

This could only mean one thing.

"I told you he wasn't lying", she said, triumphantly, "You're quick to strip and bind people. Too quick."

"Hush, little girl", said the Indian, turning to Andrew, "The Blackstone has spoken."

They surrounded the shining stone, looking spellbound at its magical light illuminating the interior of a dirty, cheap store with snake-oil and crystal balls.

"A year ago we lost the operative and let the Chosen be captured to the Ice Palace.", a voice issued forth from the crystal.

"Why didn't we know about it?", asked Mrong.

"The Temple... The Order has widthheld information."

"Typical of them", said Ney, "How did you end up there?"

"There were three of us. We came to rescue them. It was a desperate mission. In the end we ended up naked and in chains before Abbaramanon. They are still interrogating us, in turns."

"Who was the leader?"

"Abaya. I told them not to..."

"Abaya", said Ney, "This bitch cannot even touch her nosetip with her finger. She was my first teacher."

Mrong sent the girl an angry look.

"... I told them it was a suicide mission, but they wanted quick results."

"What could have been done instead?", asked Mrong.

"There's a thing here in New York that can give us an edge. The Sceptre of Ice."

"How did you come to this information?"

"By an outsider informant who only recently converted to our religion.", the woman's voice was shaking, "She did a great job, I don't know what happened to her after."

"What is the Sceptre?"

"One of the most powerful artifacts in Abbarmanon's arsenal. She moved it here so she can begin invasion."

"Did the Temple... The Order know about it?"

"They refused to accept the information. It was from a recent convert."

"Where is this Sceptre stored?"

"Abbaramanon has a false front. A yoga studio. That's the outer circle. Then there's the inner circle, where members are taught Tantric sexual pratices. And there's the core."

"Servants of Witch-Queen", Mrong nodded, "What's the name of the studio?"

"Yoga of Pure Bliss. They have a webpage."

"Blessed be the Internet. I will cut the connection now."

Mrong put her palm above the Blackstone and its light has faded.

"Neyrenna, give our... prisoner something to dress."

"I like him the way he is", the girl giggled.

"I owe you an apology", Mrong addressed Andrew, "As you can see, we operate in rather extreme conditions here."

"I was stripped naked, tied, locked up. Fuck you all.", spit Andrew.

"That's Mrong", said Ney, "I have to endure naked punishments at least once a week."

"Don't complain. Give him something to dress."

"I really need a cock. I deserve it just for having to live with you."

"Don't argue. We need to act, and to act fast."

Andrew was given a set of rather dirty clothes. It was almost as humiliating as being naked, but he had no choice.

When he came back to the store, dressed, Neyrenna and Mrong were already waiting for him.

"Due to... unforeseen circumstance you learned our language. This means that, like it or not, you're part of our world now.", said Mrong.

"I'm not", he said, "I want to go home."

"I promise I will let you out before your legal guardian is concerned with your absence..."

"She's my mother."

"You already know our names. I'm Mrong, and my disciple's name is Neyrenna. We're something of a remote post. Usually our job is to observe, very rarely to act."

"I don't really care. I want to go home."

"You're joining us at one of the most unfortunate moments. Yet we'll give you at least basic instructions in the ways of our faith. I believe that learning them will clear some of your objections."

"What faith?", Andrew sat at the table beside the counter.

"We worship a being that revealed itself to humans thousands of years ago, in the kingdom of Krang-Tong at the foot of Himalayas. The kingdom still exists, but is guarded by powerful magical barriers, and so is invisible to the world outside."

"What is this being?"

"The name will tell you nothing. You will learn it in time. Remember though that names are human concepts, and they mean little in the universe at large. What's important is that our Lady is the proponent of erotic pleasure; not just the carnal pleasure per se, but sexuality and love freed from all limitations. This has its good sides and bad sides. Basically, She's indifferent to human concepts of right and wrong. What we are practicing is already straining the established taboos, but those we're fighting against are monsters, completely given to darkest sexual urges."

"I still don't get it. Why do you worship this being? What does it give you?"

"Do you experience sexual desire? I believe you do."

"Well, yeah..."

"What's the most shameful thing you thought about?"

Andrew recalled the photoshoot offer his mom has turned down and blushed.

"I will answer the question for you", said Mrong, "Your mother is none other than Elena Spitzer, the sexy investigative journalist on the verge of becoming a celebrity. Is that right?"

"How..."

"Did you have any dirty thoughts about her?"

"I..."

"You probably had, and you suppressed them. Now close your eyes and free those repressed thoughts. Let them flow."

Andrew shook and closed his eyes.

He saw Elena, his mother, naked and arching her sexy body beneath a waterfall, in the middle of the verdant, tropical island. There was another thought, one he couldn't let through.

Mrong must have seen it. Upon opening his eyes he saw Mrong smiling gently at him.

"You made some progress. But something is still holding you back. Do you have darker fantasies? Do you browse websites where women are kept in bondage?"

Andrew did visit such sites. He felt like a monster afterwards, but he couldn't help it.

Damsels in distress. Helpless women menaced by evil people, sometimes by monsters.

"Give in to it. Let it flow."

Mrong's husky voice was almost hypnotic.

He recalled the humiliation of being bound, naked, in the dusty room in the back.

"Would you bind my mom the way you bound me?"

"Yes. I'd have her stripped naked as the day she was born and tied up. She'd plead for mercy, but there would be none. She'd be all helpless to touch and use."

"I'd rescue her."

"And what then?"

"I'd have sex with her."

"Have sex with her? With your mother? Isn't that wrong?"

"Not anymore."

Mrong snapped her fingers. Andrew came to. He suddenly felt ashamed.

"No. No. No..."

"You came in touch with your hidden urges", she said, "You've learned to break the mental barriers that hinder your desire. You're becoming one of us now."

"Let me out", said Andrew.

"Believe me, you still haven't got to the level of those we're fighting."

"Let me out."

"Your desires can become reality. Now you know they can. You will come back."

"Let me out."

Mrong opened the doors for him. The street was now bathed in the light of late afternoon.

"You will come back", she said.

Andrew walked on, like in a daze.

---------------------------------

Elena parked her car before her home and let out a deep sigh. It's been a terribly long day. She looked at the output of her car's temperature sensor. 70 degrees, and it was already nine p.m. According to optimistic forecasts the scorching heat wave was to persist for at least a week. According to those less optimistic - for at least a month. Damn the climate change.

She sat back and turned the key. The car died quietly. Elena opened the cache and reached for the business card.

"Pure Bliss Yoga Center."

As was to be expected, it was located in the Lower Manhattan. The place was a haven for new-agers and psychics. On the back of the card there was the website. She'll check it this evening - or perhaps tommorrow.

After coming back from Blue Mountain she had to spend the rest of the day putting all less relevant affairs in order so she could focus on Beth's disappearance. Sullivan was sceptical at first, but when he heard details about what happened at the diner he became intrigued and greenlit the investigation. The only reservation he had was about her lack of leads.

"This is a solid lead", she showed him the business card.

"How do you know it is?"

"I KNOW it is. Don't ask me why."

She became who she was by following her instinct. But of course, at the back of her head, there was this fear that one day her instict will let her down and she'll lose time following a cold trail.

Elena pushed these thoughts aside. She didn't know what Andrew was doing through the day. Basically, she trusted him not to do anything stupid when unsupervised. He was quite mature for his age. Perhaps he left to visit what little friends he had. Perhaps he went to visit Myra, but as far as she knew, Andrew and Myra stopped dating as soon as the girl turned into a Jericho Trumpet proclaiming imminent fire and brimstone. Poisonous tentacles of the religious right were everywhere. Elena didn't blame her son for dumping Myra. She'd do the same if she were him.

She slammed her car shut, pressed the button on her remote key and the vehicle beeped, the sure sign that she now has but a few hours to forget the cares of the day.

"Andrew?", she called out as she stepped in. The house was quiet. Almost too quiet.

During her career she made a few enemies. At the back of her head there was always this thought that they will invade the fragile limits of her privacy and hurt her son. That's why she found the silence ominous.

"Andrew?"

He was not in the living room. He was not in the kitchen. She knocked at his bedroom door.

"Andrew?"

Still no answer.

She pushed the door open.

Her son was lying on his bed and dozing. The bed's not yet been made up.

"Oh, so that's how you spend your summer holiday.", she smiled, relieved.

She shook him.

"The sleeper... must... awaken!"

The boy blinked a few times and looked around.

"What time is it?"

"Nine p.m. If you're going to sleep you could at least make your bed."

"Sorry, mom, I..."

"That's okay! You have all the summer to yourself. I just came back and wanted to say 'hi'".

She paused for a moment.

"Did you visit Myra?"

"You know I'm done with Myra, mom", he said, "I told her - her church or me. She already made her choice."

"I've got a very exhausting day behind me. I thought we might watch some shows together."

"Tonight's shows are shit, mom. I'd rather see some VOD stuff."

"Horror as always?", watching horrors in the evening was one of their favorite rituals.

"Yeah, I can pick one."

"I know you're good at it. Come on, let's go."

That's why she loved her son so much. She was the only man she could depend on. If he only wasn't her son, then...

A thought appeared at the back of her head, but she pushed it away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

If she only knew.

Andrew felt a mixture of shame and excitement. Back home, away from Mrong's hypnotic voice, the desires he confessed to seemed more shameful than ever. He took a glance at his mom. She wore a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, her hair made in a pixie cut, and ate one chocolate after another. That was also the part of the movie-watching ritual.

"Look at this idiot", she pointed at the college student with a face that betrayed profound lack of intelligence, "The old man told him not to go there. How do you think, how long before he becomes a monster fodder?"

"A minute."

"I give him thirty seconds. Bet?"

"Bet."

Andrew watched the movie absent-mindedly. Last twenty-four hours were a roller-coaster. He learned that magic exists. He learned that other worlds exist. He's been initiated into some kind of secret, ancient religion he didn't know much about. His life has taken a sharp turn, and, to add insult to injury, he had to keep it secret from his mother. They never had any secrets. Or so he thought.

Andrew looked at the screen. The college student was being eaten alive.

"Minute and half", said Elena, "You won the bet."

"How many college students are left?", he asked.

"Three."

"Three bets left then."

"Tell me, why are the college students in movies so uniformly stupid?", asked Elena.

"Don't know. Perhaps our education system is in need of serious fixing", replied Andrew.

His mother laughed.

"I've got another idea", she said, "It's a conspiracy. Our education system is conspiring with the forces of evil to keep the students dumb so they can end up as monster fodder. "

"Holds water, I think."

"Ok, this sexy girl, how long will she last?", she pointed to the long-haired blonde that appeared on the screen.

"Till the end."

"Oh, that's a bold statement."

"Mom, she's a virgin. You don't survive a horror movie by running from monsters. You get through them by not having sex. It's a widely known principle."

"Lucid observation. I give her... ten minutes. Bet?"

"Bet."

Andrew wondered how nice it would be if they bet for clothes. His mom usually lost the horror movie bets. She'd be naked in minutes...

No.

"Anything wrong?", Elena asked.

Andrew shook his head.

"It's terribly hot."

"Yeah", Elena nodded, "It's better to stay at home. Oh, and Gisella is coming tomorrow. So we'll be sitting in heat, but at least not in mess."

Another scream, another student being eaten. Of course she wasn't the virgin blonde.

She actually was the only survivor.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Elena was already sleeping, her son sat at the computer to check on the "Pure Bliss Yoga Studio". It turned out the place was located in the Lower Manhattan, dangerously close to "Madame Fourier's Psychic Store", pardon, remote outpost of the otherworldy Order. All applicants should be at last eighteen years old. This made Andrew a few months short of the permitted age.

Preliminary practices were standard Yoga, of the garden variety taught to the Americans. The more advanced practices were only revealed to sufficiently advanced members. Or so the website stated. This mirrored the words of the woman in the crystal ball.

So it's true, it's all true.

The boy sat back. He knew that tomorrow he's going to visit Madame Fourier, padron, Mrong, once again, as she said.

He tried in vain to search for the Kingdom of Krang-Tong Mrong has mentioned. Instead, he found about the kingdom of Shang-Shung, which disappeared into the mists of history centuries ago. Perhaps he misheard?

He went to sleep at midnight and didn't awake until ten o'clock next day.

Actually, it was the sound of a vacuum cleaner, so rarely heard in this house, that woke him.

They had a vacuum cleaner, but seldom used it. After all, keeping order in their place was Gisella's job.

Andrew shut his eyes, hoping, in vain, that the noise will go away. Instead, it only got louder. And louder. And louder.

Gisella was closing in on his bedroom.

"No, no, no", he rolled over. He still wanted to sleep.

Instead, the Mexican maid open the doors agape, entering the bedroom with fury, like a Bruce Lee, and in moment's notice it was filled with the roar of the vacuum cleaner.

"Oh", she held her hand to her mouth, when she saw Andrew still sleeping in his bed, "I'm sorry."

"That's okay", said Andrew, "I was about to get up anyway."

No more time to waste. The other world that he had recently discovered, beckoned.

----------------------------------------------------------------

It turned out that "Pure Bliss" occupied the entire three-story building. The receptionist beamed at Elena when she entered.

"Welcome to Pure Bliss Yoga Studio", she said, "Are you interested in our intensive three-month course?"

"Whoah, hold your horses. First I'd like to know a bit more about the studio."

"Of course, ma'am. How I can help you?"

"I heard that your studio is special, but never any details as to why. I'd like to know more."

The receptionist seemed delighted with the question.

"Of course, ma'am. Pure Bliss Yoga Studio was established in 201* by prominent teacher Urung Bawra. The name itself alludes to the principle of pure bliss of the clear consciousness. In addition to using standard techniques practiced in other Yoga studios we're also using some very SPECIAL techniques, taught by Bawra herself to the most dedicated students."

"A secret lineage?", Elena was not especially familiar with Eastern religions, but from what she remembered from her conversations with Beth was that she was fascinated by "Secret Lineages", special techniques passed in secrecy from master to student through thousands of years.

"They are very special techniques", the receptionist repeated, "They can raise person's consciousness above normal level and make it reach unheard-of states of clarity and bliss."

Elena looked around. The place looked tidy and professional. Certainly not like a venue for a mob or trafficking ring, and she was almost certain the center was somehow tied to criminal activity.

"You got me interested", she said, "I'd like to sign up."

"Very well, ma'am. Please fill this form. There you will also find the neccessary info and admission price. Our next session is at three p.m."

"I've got a day off today", said Elena, "I'll be there."

"Splendid!", said the receptionist, "Have a blissful day!", she added, taking the filled form from Elena.

------------------------------------------------------------

This time Andrew found the store quickly. The day was as hot as the previous and before he reached the place the boy was drenched in sweat. He remember that the inside of the place if was dark and cool. One more reason to come here.

He knocked. This time Neyrenna was quick to open the door.

"Greetings, initiate", she said in the foreign tongue.

"Hi", Andrew didn't know what to say.

"Come in. Mrong is expecting you."

The stunning oriental woman was perched over the Blackstone; it lay dark and quiet on the counter.

"It went dead", she told Andrew instead of greeting him, "This can only mean one thing."

"I've checked this Yoga Studio", said the boy, "Basically they look like typical snake-oil peddlers from Lower Manhattan."

Mrong smiled slightly at his words.

"You'll be setting off in an hour and half with Neyrenna. Just remember to use your English names instead of Meirennian ones."

"I'm Violet", the girl said, "I think it's a nice name - or a nickname."

Mrong sighed.

"Neyrenna, you have our initiate to yourself for half an hour, as you requested. Just please - BE GENTLE WITH HIM."

"Oh, I will, I promise. Clear as the southern sun."

"You always say that, Neyrenna. You always say that."

Before Mrong could finish her sentence Ney took stunned Andrew by his hand and led him up the flight of stairs to the second floor, through a side door to a room that was a pleasant change from the run-down store. It had an open window overlooking the dirty alley, a computer, a bed, and was generally kept in order.

"This is where I live", she said.

"Is Mrong your mom?", asked Andrew.

"How do you think, silly? Do I have dark skin? Black hair? Do I ever speak her accent? She's from Krang-Tong itself. She's my teacher."

"And you - were are you from?"

"Meirenn. That's a very, very special place... You'll learn soon enough. Or not. You're not yet a member. You're just an initiate."

She pulled her t-shirt off. Beneath she wore a red bra, already strained by her full breasts. She tossed the t-shirt at her bed and looked at the boy expectantly.

"What are you waiting for?"

"What?"

"Take off your clothes!"

"But..."

"We've already seen each other naked, didn't we?"

Ney continued with her undressing as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Andrew hesitated, and started undressing himself.

"You see? It's not difficult at all", she said once both of them were nude. She sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her, prompting Andrew to sit down.

"So...", she wrapped her arm around the stunned Andrew, "Do you have... How do you call spouses in this world... A girlfriend? Silly name for a girl you bed."

"Well... I had a... girlfriend... but she became religious freak."

"After you went to bed her? Stupid cunt. I'd give her a naked beating for stupidity alone."

"I never 'went to bed' with her. She was always... conservative. And then she went nuts with religion."

"Oh, I see. We have some gaps to fill in your education."

She climbed to the top of the bed and knelt.

"Kneel in front of me... like that."

She kissed him on the lips. He was hesitant at first, but then kissed her back.

"Was it difficult?", she giggled, "Now something more difficult. Lie back."

Andrew did as was told. The girl climbed on top of him. There was something animalistic and primevial in the way she moved, almost as if she was performing an ancient ritual.

His member was already fully erect.

"Shouldn't we use condom? I don't want to get you pregnant."

"You won't, silly. Just do what I say."

Her naked breast hung above him, tempting him. He couldn't resist and touched them with both hands. To his surprise the girl grabbed his hands and pressed them even harder to her chest.

"Do it with more feeling! They're not made of glass!"

"Doesn't it hurt you?"

"I like it... when it... "

He realized his member was inside of the girl's vagina. The feeling was hundred times better than simulating the act with the right hand. Or left, depending on his current mood.

"Harder!"

He was now seriously afraid of hurting the girl, but then realized she was the boss. And he felt so good he could barely think.

"Yes..."

English words mixed with the girl's exotic tongue. Andrew climaxed inside her. She let out a cry of a wonded animal, so loud that he got scared.

"Are you all right?", he asked, still panting from post-coital exaustion.

"What?", she brushed her hair away from her eyes.

"You cried."

"Girls and women sometimes cry out in pleasure, silly. Where did they keep you for these seventeen years? In a cellar?"

"Oh my..."

"Did you like it?", Neyrenna collapsed to the bed next to him.

"Y-yes..."

"That's good", she reached out and gave him another kiss, this time kissing him lovingly, "Nothing makes up for being naked and humiliated than a little lovemaking."

Andrew still panted.

"Neyrenna? Andrew? Come down."

"Oh damn this woman", said Ney, "Get dressed."

"It was fun", she added once they were fully dressed, "Hopefully next time we'll have more time. Then I'll show you some really fun things."

Downstairs Mrong was sitting behind the counter.

"Had some quality time you two?", she said, "We need to hurry. Neyrenna, did you give the initiate the Sight?"

"No, he only has the Voice", replied the girl.

"Then what did you do upstairs? All right, then do it now. He's your protege right now."

"Why not yours?"

"I have enough troubles rearing you. Go on, Neyrenna."

The girl passed her hands in front of Andrew's eyes, mumbling some words that he couldn't understand in spite of his newly-acquired abilities.

"This is the Sight, to supplement the Sound", she said, "From now on things that are invisible to the ordinary people will be visible to you. You are now a full-fledged Initiate."

"Okay, so I have these superpowers, can we go now? We need to get to this Yoga Center and..."

"Words, Neyrenna. Give him a few Words.", Mrong was growing impatient.

"All right, Words, Words, Words. Okay, we're going to infiltrate the enemy's stronghold. Other than bored chicks who have nothing better to do with their money but practice downward dog there will be some bad guys and gals who can do some, you can say, magic. And we need to be prepared. I actually am, but you..."

"To the point, Neyrenna", said Mrong.

"You have the perequisite, the Voice. Now it's time to learn how to use it to align reality to your will."

"You mean - magic?"

"Call it however you will. It's a weapon. Now Mrong is looking at me as though she wanted to give me another naked beating, which I'm tired of, so let's get started."

----------------------------------------

In the afternoon it got even hotter than it was in the morning. Elena hoped that such a professional-looking place will have some showers.

She had with her the bag with her sports bra and shorts. In her head - the plan on how to inquire, discreetly, about Beth's involvment with the studio.

To her relief the Yoga Studio had both clean locker rooms and showers. The entire place exuded sense of safety and comfort. On her way to the exercise hall Elena bumped into another woman in exercise suit. She was around thirty, had shoulder-length dark hair and excellent figure.

"You must be our new student", she said, "Elena... "

"... Spitzer", the journalist extended her hand.

"Nessa Bannon", the woman shook her hand, "Wait... Elena Spitzer? The journalist?"

"Yeah", damn it, thought Elena,

"I'm a big fan of yours!", the young woman beamed, "I actually never expected to see you here... Oh my!"

"Yeah, I decided to take a break from writing about crime", said Elena, "It takes a toll on you. I thought I might write about Yoga instead. And now that I heard your studio is special I might actually promote it."

"Wow, that's... that's great! I'd never expect ... I'm Nessa Bannon, I will be your instructor."

Nessa could barely conceal her excitement.

"The exercises begin in five minutes. You still have some time for warm-up. See you there!"

Elena was angry with herself. She revealed her identity too quickly. It was an elementary mistake.

The next half an hour actually made her calm her mind a bit. She found she could do the Cobra Pose with little difficulty, Downward Dog and Trikonasana gave her a bit trouble. After going through the series of asanas all the students were required to lie down in what Nessa called "The Corpse Pose", with symettrically outstretched arms and legs, and relax.

But Elena could barely relax. She needed to talk with someone who knew Beth.

"How was it?", asked Nessa after they all rose from the mats.

"Very... relaxing", she said.

"Wasn't it? I hope you're not in a hurry?"

"No, actually I was about to spend the day at the studio. I think some great article will come out of it."

"Great!", Nessa beamed, "There will be a vegetarian snack, and then we'll proceed with the next round of exercises."

Elena gupled when she heard about "vegetarian snack". In the final stages of her infatuation with the East, just before she left, Beth forced Elena to partake in a few. She hated them.

At the dinner table she had at least to pretend she's eating. A young couple sat next to her; a girl in her twenties and a guy her age. His expression was one of suffering. It didn't take Elena long to figure out his spouse has actually dragged him to the classes. She looked like the kind of woman who needs to force the man into her world and her mindset, no matter what.

Elena realized she has very narrow window of opportunity to ask someone about Beth. She chuckled and addressed the "Slave Driver", as she mentally labelled the girl with the suffering boyfriend.

"Have you been here long?"

The girl seemed surprised at first.

"Wha... A yeah. A year."

"Are you satisfied?"

"Well... They could do some things better, but... They still don't let me in to the secret practices. They say I'm not dedicated enough."

"I don't think I'd be here if not for Beth. Beth Reynolds. I thought I'd meet her during the classes."

"Is she a friend of yours?", asked the Slave Driver.

"She missed a few classes now", said Slave Driver's boyfriend.

"I don't think she MISSED them. She was too special."

"What do you mean?", Elena inquired.

"She was a dedicated member. She got access to special practices. I tell you, she's probably receiving the special instruction upstairs."

"Why upstairs?"

"That's the place reserved for dedicated students. That's where they receive special instruction."

"Yeah, the place sealed off", said Slave Driver's boyfriend.

It all started to come together. Beth came too close to something.

"Who gets in to the Inner Circle?"

"Women usually more often than men", said the Slave Driver, "That's because women are more tuned to the subtle vibrations than men. Men have to work hard before they do."

A spasm passed through her boyfriend's face. Elena could only guess what he must have been going through.

"Break's over!", Nessa appeared at the dining room, "Five minutes to warm up before we begin the next round."

There were some sealed rooms upstairs. Where only women were admitted. Things started to come together.

---------------------------------------------------

Andrew and Ney were making their way towards the Studio through the heat wave that fell over the Manhattan.

"Ok, so what is this Abbaramanon thing?", he asked in Meirennian. He still didn't get used to the fact that he learned a new language in a split second, but surmised it'd be wiser to use a tongue that was unintelligible to the crowd they were walking through.

"Abbaramanon is one of those problems that grow through hundreds of years, nobody does anything with them and people only become concerned when it begins to spill over. This is Abbaramanon."

"Could you be more clear?"

"She was a human worshipper, just like you and me. Only that the power she amassed was so strong and her desires became so warped that she no longer qualifies as one. She's now the Witch-Queen."

"That explains it. So why it's only now that she is a threat?"

"She's been a threat long before. I told you that, silly. Everyone ignored her. Now she wants to spill to this world."

"What happens when she does?"

Neyrenna looked him deep in his eyes.

"Imagine invasion of a thousand cannibalistic pedophiles. Multiply by million. Get the picture?"

Andrew shook his head.

"In Meirenn everyone ignored her. She had her Palace, then she had the forest of Narval, basically a playground for her perverted desires. Let her have it, they said. And so they allowed her to grow into power that will threaten the world at large."

"Including this Meirenn?"

"Nah, no worshipper can threaten it. It might change, but won't go away. It's this world that's fragile."

"Ok, and this entity or goddess that you worship..."

"That we worship. You're Her follower now."

"Let's say I am. So this being won't do anything about it?"

"Not at all. She's not concerned with human morality. Humans want to play nice, let them play nice. Humans want sexual armageddon, let them have it. She just sits back and ponders the outcome."

Andrew shook his head.

"I don't get it."

"I think we're here."

They were now before the three-story building where the Yoga of Pure Bliss had its headquarters. Andrew also noticed something else.

A small picket was set up before the building. The demostrators carried banners that said, "Yoga is Satan", "Prayer not occult".

"Yoga leads to fornication!", said the bespectacled girl distributing pamphlets to the passer-bys, or rather trying to, without much success, "Yoga is Devil's doing!"

Myra.

She was still pretty, thought Andrew, though she'd probably reserve her charms to her equally asexual husband. She still had long, black hair, only now kept them tied in a bun. Now that he made love to Ney he wondered how she'd perform, or if he, now having had his first sexual experience, could dissuade her from shying away from the accursed "pleasures of the flesh".

"Hello Myra", he said.

The girl seemed surprised at his sight.

"Oh, it's... you... "

"Is it the girl you told me about?", asked Ney.

"Yeah, it's Myra. Myra, meet Violet."

"She does look like a harlot", Myra's voice was full of contempt, "Please don't disturb us. We're doing GOD'S work here."

"Is anyone troubling you, Myra?", the concerned voice that asked the question belonged to a young, tall man, at least twenty-five years old, also bespectacled, his black hair immaculately cut with parting in the middle.

"A sinner that GOD led me away from", she said, "And his harlot girlfriend."

"Get this pamphlet and read, perhaps there is a redemption for you", Myra paused, "And this harlot."

Andrew took the pamphlet, rather bemused. They walked away from the picketers and their stand.

"So now you met Myra", he told Neyrenna.

"What's in this thing?"

Andrew skimmed through it. Basically, it was a recap of all the picketers screamed at the passer-bys. "Yoga is Satan". "Yoga leads to fornication."

"Here", he passed the paphplet to Ney.

"If Yoga really leads to fornication, people should have more of it.", she grinned.

"These guys don't really share your point of view. So here we are at this Center. We need to get inside. How do we do it?"

"Remember the Words?"

"Yeah... "

"Recall them. Speak them omitting the last syllabe, so they don't manifest."

"Sayne - walking unnoticed. Anamayu - palms stick to the wall. Basically, becoming a Spider-Man."

"The last one and the most useful."

"Hanamaye - freeing from bonds."

"Only ordinary bonds. Worded bonds don't apply. The woman you saw in the Ice Palace was chained by the Worded chains. But if tied with binds that are not Worded - they can have you naked and tied hand and foot and you'll free yourself. I know I did. A few times."

"Okay. So what's the plan?"

"We climb unnoticed to the top of the building. There's another Word I kept to myself, that unlocks locked doors. We can't barge through the bottom entrance, but there must be some way in through the roof."

Andrew looked back at the Center and realized something was not right. The stand where the picketers demonstrated was surrounded by a police...

No, it wasn't police. It was security.

"What's wrong?", asked Ney.

"Myra", said Andrew and started making his way back to the picket.

"It's a peaceful demonstration", the bespectacled young man argued, "You have no right to remove us."

"And you have no right to demonstrate on a private property.", said the security employee.

"We're doing GODS work!", exclaimed Myra.

"For what I know you're disrupting business", replied the officer, "I have the orders to take you inside."

"WHAT!?", the young man was furious, "You have no right!"

"It's a private property. You need to issue apology to the manager, here and now, unless you want the charges to be pressed against you."

"This is lawless", said the bespectacled guy.

"I insist"

Another picketer, a sixteen-year old boy, shook his head.

"Let's do what they say and perhaps they will let us go."

"Spawn of Satan!", Myra was still in her fervor, "You won't get away with it! You will burn in hell for all..."

She didn't have chance to finish her sentence before she disappeared behind the Center's doors.

"I've got bad feeling about this", said Andrew.

"And so do I", Ney nodded, "Why nobody helped them?"

"I think people are sick of those freaks", said Andrew, "Let's get in quickly."

"You remember what to do if we find the Sceptre?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get to it."

-----------------------------------------------

This time she did it.

The Downwards Dog went just right. Elena could see between her legs, down to the long corridor that ran through the first floor. Happy with herself, she was to get back to normal position, but then she saw something very unusual.

A group of people went down the corridor, escorted by security guards. One was a tall man in his twenties. The other was a sixteen-year old boy. The two others were conservatively-dressed girls, one of them sixteen, the other seventeen, and she looked like...

Myra Rhiannon.

Elena snapped back to normal pose. She let out a yell.

"What is it?", asked Nessa.

"I've got urinary tract infection", said Elena, "I'm sorry, it strikes at the worst of times."

Nessa pondered her words.

"I need to get to the bathroom now", Elena made her hallmark pleading eyes, "Please."

"Okay, don't worry. The bathroom's at the end of the corridor."

"I know, but thanks."

She quickly left the room, staggering, as if she really needed to piss at moment's notice. When she finally got there - and out of Nessa's sight - she cast a quick glance at where the corridor took an L-turn. Just in time to see the security team and the escorted people disappear behind.

Elena followed. She peeked through the corner. One of the security guards unlocked the doors at the end, and behind the journalist could see - the stairs going up.

The guard closed the door, but Elena couldn't hear any sounds of them being locked again. Human mistake is the best friend of an investigator, she thought.

It was her only chance. She darted towards the door, hoping she won't be seen, and closed it as soon as she was through.

"Burn in hell!", someone cried from the top of the stairs, "Burn in hell!"

Myra.

Elena gingerly followed the footsteps she could still hear from top of the staircase. She passed the second floor. It was on the third that she heard the doors being opened, then slammed.

Her heart was beating fast. Inwardly, she prayed for the doors not to be locked. She pushed the handle, very gently.

They weren't.

Whatever illusion of comfort and safety the lower floors created was shattered by the sight of the dark, run-down corridor, lit only by a naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling, that seemed to go through the entire third floor. Symbols were scribbled on the walls by a substance that Elena really hoped was not human blood. She took a step and something creaked beneath her foot. She looked down and barely stiffled a gasp.

Her foot has crushed a human skull.

So it wasn't a trafficking ring. She stumbled upon something much darker.

From the doors in the middle of the corridor she could hear Myra praying. It wasn't just Myra. The entire group was united in a loud and desperate prayer.

She got to open doorway and peeked.

The room was lit by candles and filled to the brim with nude bodies. People of both sexes were engaged in copulation all over the place. Some of the couples were of mixed gender. Some were not.

The centerpiece of the place was what appeared to be an object of worship. A statue of nude woman with pendulous breasts, sitting in a meditation posture. The thing was very large and unnervingly lifelike. The dark scenery was supplemented by numerous chains hanging from the ceiling. Elena was afraid to think what they were here for.

A dark skinned, nude, sensual woman rose from the crowd and approached the officers. Without any expression they handed their prisoners to her.

"Would you stay and watch? You can if you want to."

"We'd never miss such an opportunity, ma'am.", one of the officers said.

The woman approached the four huddled captives and smelled them in a way that Elena found disturbingly animalistic.

"Actually virgins", she said to herself, "My oh my."

"We need to speak to the manager", said the bespectacled young man with a shaking voice.

"You're standing before the manager", the dark woman said, feeling his chest with her hand.

"Let us go", Myra seemed to have lost her militant attitude.

"Are you the manager?", the young man asked.

"I didn't say I'm the manager, Roger", said the beauty, "I only said you're standing before the manager."

"I... we... really... how do you know my name? Ma'am?", the young man was growing increasingly nervous.

The dark-skinned beauty snapped her fingers. Several women rose from the crowd and approached Roger. Without any warning they began to tear his clothes off.

"Leave him alone...", Myra was about to break in tears. She already was hugging her companion, a sixteen-year old, blonde girl with her hair tied in two pigtails.

"Don't tell me you don't like the sight", said the beauty, "As to the manager, you're standing before the manager and founder of Yoga of Pure Bliss, Mistress Urung Bawra, and she didn't yet get her apology."

"We... apologize!", said Roger, now completely naked and desperate.

"It's not enough."

At the moment the nude women seized the other three captives. The boy was already in his briefs. Myra and the other girl were down to their bra and panties.

"You need to do it on your knees. The four of you."

Elena looked at Myra. The girl fought, but she was powerless against the women who tore off her lingerie. Elena thought she had a nice body.

Once the entire group was naked the women forced them to their knees before the statue.

"Apologize to Urung Bawra", said the beauty.

"No", said Myra, who, in spite of being naked and overpowered was still defiant, "I won't be praying to an idol!"

"Who said I am an idol?", a thunderous voice filled the room.

The nude crowd shrieked in excitement at the sound of it. Elena looked at who actually spoke the words. But it could not be possible.

The statue raised her eyelids and looked at the captives with hungry eyes.

No, thought Elena, it can't be.

"I can tell you how to actually make an apology", said the "statue". Or rather a living thing that Elena at first took for a statue.

"You will kneel before me with your hands clasped in front of your chest, like in prayer."

The captives did as were told, too shocked to object. Even Myra.

"Yes, that's better. Now say out loud: we apologize to you, Mistress Urung Bawra."

"We apologize to you, Mistress Urung Bawra!", the captives cried in unison.

"I sense some sincerity in your apology. I even took liking to you. String them up!"

The women chained the captives by their ankes so that they hung, upside down, from the ceiling, before the being.

"Move them closer!"

The naked women pulled the chains, and some elaborate mechanism must have been at work, as the captives actually were transported to inches before the being's face.

The creature stuck out a tongue that seemed too big for her mouth. First she ran it against the teens: Myra and her two friends. She took time to feel the breasts of the hanging girls, as well as the boy's genitals. Then she moved to the group's leader.

"This one it will be", she said.

One of the women produced a knife and without any hesitation slit the young man's throat. The captive screamed as his blood fell down and splashed Urung Bawra's chest. The Mistress began to moan as she rubbed the liquid into her pendulous breasts.

"Yes... Yes... Yes..."

This was too much for Elena. She jumped away from the nightmarish sight and ran down the corridor, down the staircase, back to the locker room. She quickly dressed and went towards the exit.

"Emergency", she said as the receptionist raised her eyebrow.

She jumped to her car and ignited it. She needed to get as far away from here as possible.

-------------------------------------------------

"Hah!", Ney was triumphant.

They stood before a closed roof entrance. Before they got here, Andrew did things he never thought possible. For instance, he climbed to the roof by actually sticking his palms to the wall. For the first time he felt he had POWER.

"Now what?", he asked.

Neyrenna approached the door and whispered. The lock clicked, and the girl pushed the doors open.

"Let's go."

It was dark downstairs. Andrew could barely see in front of him.

"Do you have some Words so we don't trip in the dark?"

"Of course", said Neyrenna and spoke her Word. A faint light appeared above her outstretched palm.

They were in some kind of storage room, filled with boxes and cages. There was something else here as well. Andrew could see colors in the dark, swirling wisps of red and blue.

"Do you see that?", he asked Ney.

"A being of magic is being fed", she said, "This is how Sight manifests. Now, is the Sceptre hidden here? It's not the most obvious of places."

"What do you mean fed?", asked Andrew. He had bad feeling about Myra.

"Not literally. Sometimes it's simply satisfying its desire. Twisted as it might be. The being is probably human - or was... Strain, Initiate! The Sceptre will leave a mark clearly visible for Sighted."

"I'll just tell you when I see colors.", Andrew didn't expect her to be so official.

He saw a white spot, that, unlike the other colors, was stable. He moved in its direction.

"Did you see something?", asked the girl.

He reached out to the door.

"DON'T!", Ney raised her voice above the safe level.

"These places are usually trapped", she said and then uttered a few words. One of them made the doors click. Only then she pushed them open.

The room behind them was featureless, save for four statues of faceless humans, each of them facing outwardly in one of the four cardinal directions. Something glistened behind them, Andrew could clearly see it with his Sight, even though the statues emanated a light of their own.

"Don't approach. We found what we were after, but the enemy put the obvious security measures. I need to contact Mrong."

"Telepatically?"

The girl reached out to her pocket and produced a mobile.

"I think I'd rather call her."

She dialed.

"Okay Mrong. The Sceptre is here, on top of the building. Yes, there are wards. I disarmed the weaker one, but the stronger..."

Andrew could swear he heard something. Or rather someone. Calling for help.

"Where are you going? Stop!", Ney almost raised her voice again, "No, it's the Initiate... acting up."

Without worrying about magic wards Andrew approached the door at the opposite wall and pushed it open.

The room behind them resembled a bathroom. There were pipes and ceramic tiles on the floor and the walls. The pipes led to a human-sized glass box in the center - one that Andrew took at first for a shower.

"Help!..."

There was someone inside. A beautiful, short haired brunette about his mother's age. Andrew could freely admire her body, as she was completely naked, and good looking. Her skin was wet with perspiration and she put her hands against the glass.

"I think Initiate found something", said Neyrenna, "I'll call you back as soon as we find what's that."

"Who are you?", the woman asked in Meirennian, "I can't see without my glasses."

"You're one of us", said Andrew.

"How did you end up here?", asked Neyrenna.

"They're turning the steam on and off... You never know when it comes back. I can't take it any longer."

"Steam torture", said Ney, "Where are you from?"

"New York", the woman replied.

"What's your name?"

"Beth Reynolds. They think I know more than I really do."

"You're the initiate Eleyan spoke about. The one who found about the Sceptre."

"I managed to infiltrate the inner circle, yes... I tried to get the information through to the Order, but they ignored me."

"They're bunch of fools", said Ney, "What then?"

"I contacted the only person I could trust, my old friend, Elena Spitzer. We were to meet, but they were quicker. They invaded the place where we were to meet, and then..."

The shock almost threw Andrew to his knees.

"Breathe, Initiate.", said Ney.

"Don't you call me Initiate", he said.

"What's wrong?", asked Beth.

"I'm Andrew Spitzer. Elena Spitzer is my mother."

The brunette was speechless for a moment.

"Was Elena initiated?..."

"Not yet", snapped Ney, "But it poses us with additional complication."

"Can you get me out of there? The box is Worded, but perhaps you know a remedy."

Ney approached the box and started to examine it.

"No Words I know can open it. I'm sorry", she said.

"How many of you are there? Perhaps someone else knows the right Words."

"It's just me, the boy and my teacher, but she rarely leaves our post. In fact, we're here on our own. It's too late to contact the Order now. This city will fall before they muster their forces."

Beth sat in the box, resigned.

"There must be something you can do... The steam will be back soon and... it burns... "

"We need to get the Sceptre. When it's in our hands the battle is won."

"It's not yet fully charged."

"I know. But it's charged enough for us to use it against the Witch-Queen servants. Who's in charge of this chapter?"

"What chapter?"

"The Studio. Who runs it?"

"Urung Bawra", Beth shivered when she spoke the words.

"Then the situation is even worse. Look, we'll find the way to bypass the Wards and we're back here. We can't do anything more."

"Please..."

"We can't."

Ney beckoned for Andrew to follow her. As soon as they shut the door there was a loud hiss, and Beth started screaming in pain.

Andrew was about to dart back to the door, but Ney stopped him.

"I know it's terrible, but we can't help her."

The boy froze, and then followed his companion and mentor, trying not to think about the agonizing scream.

-------------------------------------------------------

For a moment Elena was at loss as to where to go. Sullivan won't believe her if she tells him about a giant, living statue that craves human blood. Beth was still missing. There was one obvious choice.

Jeffries.

She called his number, but there was no answer.

Elena drove to the police station. The staff seemed as happy to see her as they were disturbed by her obvious distress.

"Where's Frank?", she asked.

"He went home", replied the officer, "Some kind of emergency."

Oh no, thought Elena, oh no.

Frank Jeffries lived in a suburb with his beautiful wife and two children, a boy and a girl, both of them seventeen. Elena hated to think something bad could happen to them.

She found Frank's car parked before his home. And there was another one that she didn't recognize, a white van.

Elena approached the door they were open. The journalist knew better than not to go through. Instead, she circled the house, looking through each window, trying to assess the situation in the safest possible manner.

There was a commotion coming from the living room, a beautiful, cosy living room whose windows overlooked the Jeffries' garden. Elena peeked inside.

The window provided her with a clear view of the room. Frank and his son were sitting nude, side by side, bound to the chairs with their hands behind their backs. Two women from the Center were busy masturbating them. Frank's wife and daughter were naked as well and bent over the table, while two of the women from the Yoga Center administered them a hearthy paddling. Both penitents cried in pain, their eyes in tears.

In the background Elena could see no other but Nessa Bannon, who was obviously enjoying herself.

"You'll drop this case, you fucker", she said, "You have no fucking idea what you're up against. Drop the case and leave the town. Is that clear?..."

"Ye... Yea..."

"I can't hear!"

At this moment Frank's son cummed at the sight of his beautiful mother and sister being naked and spanked.

"I'm sorry!", he said, almost with tears in his eyes, "I'm so sorry!"

"That's... ouch! okay, honey... that's... aaah! Okay...", cried his mother.

Nessa burst into laughter.

"I can see your sonny is enjoying himself. Tell me, little boy, do you like what you see? Would you like more of it?"

Elena dropped to the ground, panting. It was a miracle they haven't seen her yet.

She ran to the car and left the place.

For the next hour she just drove aimlessly through the streets, trying to digest what she saw today. During her career as an investigative journalist she had her fair share of shocking and terrible cases, but this was something else entirely. Something more sinister was involved than just the plain and old human evil.

Elena considered her options, only to realize there were no options. She could go back home and wait for them to come to her.

"What did you found, Beth?", she asked herself.

Will they treat them the same way they treated Jeffries and his family? Will they strip and humiliate Andrew? The boy was completely innocent and ignorant. Hell, he was enjoying his summer holiday. His holiday, damn it.

Andrew... naked and humiliated...

A thought appeared at the back of her mind.

She suppressed it.

--------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere in Madame's Fourier Psychic Store was one of a war room.

"How many wards?", asked Mrong.

"Four", said Neyrenna, "Worded beyond my ability to break them."

Mrong pondered the situation.

"What do we do?", asked Andrew, "Beth said the Sceptre is still charging. Don't know what it means, but we still seem to have some time left."

"Very well", said Mrong, "The situation is dire, but not hopeless. I know a person who can help us, at least remotely."

"Who is it?", Neyrenna dropped her usual mocking attitude.

"Vanessa Alistair", Mrong said after a moment of silence.

"Alistair? This chick from Ravenhorn? I don't think she'll catch the flight to New York in time to help us."

"That's why I said REMOTELY. She's an expert on all kinds of wards. She might find some kind of solution."

"What's Ravenhorn?", asked Andrew.

"Oh, it's a college where our followers are trained in our... arts. It's in Britain."

"Sounds like Hogwarths", said the boy.

"Like WHAT?", asked Neyrenna.

"A college of magic from a popular series of novels", said Mrong, "There's nothing we can do right now. Andrew, we know that your mother has become involved. We don't yet know the extent of her involvement, but it puts her in danger. Let's exchange numbers. In case of problems, call us. We can't guarantee we'll be able to help you in any situation, but on the other hand we cherish any initiate, and you seem capable enough. We don't want to lose you."

Andrew nodded. Inwardly, he felt just a tiny bit of pride.

"Yeah, it would be sad if this cock was lost to Urung Bawra or her servants", Neyrenna smiled her lustful smile, "I'd say it would be a terrible waste."

"Speaking of a cock..."

Neyrenna and Mrong looked at him with curiosity.

"You said about freeing my desires and such."

"I think I know where he's headed", said Neyrenna.

"You're afraid you won't be able to taste your mother's body before something happens to her.", Mrong have him a restrained smile.

"What if she gets pregnant?"

"Simply put: she won't. You're now an Initiate. This means you can render yourself sterile at will."

"How?"

"Do you want to become a father right now?"

"No..."

"Then you're sterile. As simple as that."

The woman and her student looked at him with obvious bemusement.

"We're in a war, and I need to ..."

"One of the tenets of our faith", said Mrong, "Is that it's natural for emotional affection to be coupled with sexual desire, be it affection between a man and a wife or a mother and son. So you don't need to explain yourself."

Mrong nodded at Neyrenna.

"You are my protege, and my duty is to teach you stuff. If you're to do it, better do it right.", said the girl.

"How?"

"I'll show you a trick or two. Come with me..."

------------------------------------------------------------

Elena parked her car before her home and looked at the clock. Seven p.m. According to temperature sensor it was seventy five degrees.

Every day it got hotter.

The journalist looked at the house she was living in, dreading to enter. She was afraid she'll be faced by silence and this time it will mean one thing.

Elena killed the engine and stepped out. The car beeped mournfully after being locked. Elena walked towards the porch and unlocked the door.

"Andrew?", she cried out, "Andrew?"

There was no reply.

"Andrew?", Elena was beginning to panic.

He was not in the living room. He was not in his bedroom. He never were after Gisella's cleaning; the order in his room was too perfect.

Elena sat at the couch in the living room. Call him? What if he doesn't answer?

Suddenly she heard the familiar sound of a key being turned in the lock.

"Andrew!"

The boy appeared to be puzzled.

"What is it, mom?"

"Where have you been?"

"Visiting friends. What's up?"

"Andrew... I know you might not understand, but... You should avoid going out for a while."

"What?"

"Just take care... Oh, damn. I might get a few days off. We'd leave for a holiday... Move out of the city for a while."

"Let's just watch TV, okay? You'll tell me everything later on."

Elena shrugged and sat on the sofa.

Andrew looked at his mother. She wore light clothing - a t-shirt with the face of Miss Piggy from Muppets and pair of blue shorts. She slipped out of her shoes and curled her legs on the sofa. He also noticed she's consuming much more chocolates than she normally would. She still looked smoking hot. Andrew saw no straps beneath her t-shirt, which meant she must have wore a strapless bra.

He took out his mobile and messaged Ney.

"Any progress with the wards?"

After a few seconds the mobile beeped back.

"Mrong and Alistair are talking. Any progress with mom?"

Andrew smiled.

"On it.", he messaged back.

"Who are you talking to?", asked Elena.

"Just messaging friends."

"Okay. Be careful when messaging them, okay?"

"Mom, I'm always careful."

She must have seen more than she could handle, thought Andrew. He realized that, even though he was an Initiate for only two days now, there was already a rift between him and the "ordinary" people. A rift that was bound to keep growing with each day.

Elena's head was a battleground. She was scared of the people she crossed with. And yet she was somehow fascinated. They could do unthinkable things with impunity, simply because of some supernatural force they posessed. That such things are possible.

The people in the diner. Then Jeffries and his family. And the living statue in the "Yoga Center". There was an undercurrent of dark sexuality, one that knew no bounds and destroyed anything in its path.

She looked at her hunky son. After the divorce, he was the only man in her life. If he could also be...

Oh damn it.

They were doomed anyway.

They were doomed.

She fixed her eyes on the TV screen, but her mind drifted away. She imagined Andrew being stripped naked by this perverse woman, stripped naked and...

No.

Them being naked. Having passionate sex on the beach, under the scorching sun.

They were doomed. There was no point in holding back.

"Mom, everything all right?"

She snapped out of her daydream.

They were still in the living room, watching TV. Everything was still in order.

Her son was looking at her with concern. Only seventeen. So young, so ignorant, so innocent. But maybe, just maybe, he was looking at her as a woman - not a mother...

No.

"Don't worry. I just saw things today... Strange things."

Andrew said nothing.

"Do you want me to get you beer?"

"I'd rather have wine", she said.

So young, so mature.

She cast her eyes on TV. The news came in incessant stream. All seemed irrelevant right now.

Elena closed her eyes again. She heard Andrew's footsteps behind her. Then they stopped.

Was it Andrew?

A pleasant sensation appeared, suddenly, at the nape of her neck. It spread all over her body in a wave that reached her tips of her fingers, relaxing them. She didn't feel this way after her husband left her. It was a touch, a touch of human lips. Someone kissed her at the nape of her neck. Most men she dated didn't even know that she liked it.

She opened her eyes. Andrew put the wine on the table.

"Was it you?", she asked.

Andrew simply nodded.

"Why? How?...", she didn't know what to say.

"Want to see horror movie?", he asked.

"No, honey. Not today. Why did you do that?"

"We can bet who will die next and when, as usual."

"Honey, I'm not in a mood. Why did you kiss me? What?..."

"But this time we're going to bet for clothing. One dead guy or gal, one article of clothing."

"WHAT!?"

Andrew was angry with himself. It was not going well.

Yet when his mother closed her eyes he saw about her an unmistakable red aura. He knew she had him in mind for some reason."

"Mom, just... relax."

He sat on the sofa opposite her and kissed her on the lips.

Elena Spitzer, woman desired by horny men who were attracted to her journalism as much as they were to her beauty.

She was reluctant at first. Then she kissed him back.

"Andrew, I don't know what you're doing, but there's something I'd like to tell you."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes... no...", and then, after a moment of silence, "Yes."

They kissed again. Elena didn't know what's going on and she didn't want to know. Her life was falling apart anyway.

The next kiss was deeper and more passionate and Elena realized that, in some perverse way, she desired it, she desired it for a long time now.

Andrew's mobile beeped.

"Tell your friends to fuck off", said Elena.

"I'd check it anyway."

The message read:

"Another word Mrong wanted me to teach you: Savanarey. Just an emergency, she said she had a hunch. Hides your aura from lower-lever practictioners. How's going?"

"Better", he messaged back.

"Is this some kind of perverse bet?", Elena was becoming suspicious.

And it was then that they head a roar of a car parking before their home.

"Oh no", thought Elena, "Oh no."

"What's wrong?", asked Andrew, although he already had his suspicion.

"Nothing, honey, nothing", Elena thought that, at the very least, her most secret erotic desire was close to being fulfilled.

The doorbell rang.

"Should I answer?", Andrew was still playing dumb.

"No, honey, stay where you are."

Someone pounded at the door.

"Open! Open in the name of Urung Bawra!"

Elena froze in fear.

"Savanarey", whispered Andrew.

"What?", Elena noticed it.

"Nothing mom. Who are those people?"

"They are bad, bad people", she said, holding his hand.

"Why won't we call the police?", Andrew took delight in his act.

"It won't help", Elena was resigned.

Someone bumped at the door. After a while, the lock simply clicked and the doors opened.

Behind was Nessa Bannon, smiling triumphantly.

"Enemy at the gates", messaged Andrew.

"Andrew, not now", Elena was close to tears, "Nessa, you bitch. What is it all about?"

"Urung Bawra sends her regards. She says you spied on her party."

There was an aura around Nessa, but it was weak. She was an underling, Andrew realized.

"Whatever you do, don't hurt my son", pleaded Elena.

"Whatever you do...", Nessa mocked her, "Perhaps he wants to be hurt? Some people want to be hurt, you know?"

"Who are you? Why are you doing all those... things?"

"You certainly begged to be hurt. You shouldn't have come after Beth."

"She asked me to."

"You shouldn't have poked your nose into things you can't understand."

Several other women from the Center went in. They had no auras. No power, realized Andrew. One of the women shut the door and locked it.

The enemy just made a tactical mistake. Yet the boy decided it would be best to keep low profile. No demonstrations of his own power.

"So this is the journalist starlet who turned down offer of an erotic photoshoot", Nessa took one of the chocolates from the bowl and ate it, "MMmmm, nice. Anyway, you shouldn't have had, really. The world is becoming so puritan these days."

"Leave my son alone.", pleaded Elena.

"She's just a bloody underling", thought Andrew, "She can't do a thing."

"I want just one thing: drop the investigation. Your friend from the police already did."

"I will. Will you leave me alone then?"

"Sure. But first you need to be taught a lesson."

"Was it you at the diner?"

"Me? No. See, your friend Beth has learned ... arts when travelling in the East. For her we had to send someone much more... potent. However, all I see here is a sexy but ordinary woman and her little boy. How old is he?"

"Seventeen, ma'am", said Andrew, pretending to be scared.

"Okay. From now on this home and its inhabitants belong to Urung Bawra. Undress."

Elena was not surprised it will come to that, not after what she saw in Jeffries' house. But she was frozen.

"Did you hear that? Stand up and take off your clothes. The boy strips as well."

"I'm sorry, honey", said Elena.

"I'm not", thought Andrew. He knew that Nessa only came to scare them, not actually hurt them, and he was enjoying the situation. At long last, he was about to see his mom naked.

"Let's do what she says", he said, "Perhaps she'll leave us alone."

Elena stripped down to her lingerie - strapless bra and black panties. Andrew stripped down to nothing.

"Hands on your head", Nessa was in her element, "Both of you. See, you have such a good boy. He knows how to actually strip."

Both captives put hands on their heads.

"Help her strip?", asked one of the women.

"Not yet. She looks good in this lingerie... Damn, she could advertise it. Why did she choose to become a journalist?"

Nessa produced a mobile and snapped a photo of Elena in her lingerie and Andrew in his birthday suit.

"That's called karma, bitch. Let's proceed with stripping."

Elena grimaced as one of the women tore down her strapless bra. Nessa snapped a photo. Another photo was snapped when journalist's panties went off.

"You trimmed your bush... Who's the lucky guy?", asked Nessa.

"Fuck you", whispered Elena.

"We've got an entire evening ahead of us. So, Mrs. Spitzer, you might be a rising star of investigative journalism, but here and now you're just a piece of meat."

"Smoking hot", thought Andrew as he took a glance at his nude mom. He knew that having sex with her - at least once - was a must.

"Should we spank them?", asked one of the women.

"Not yet. Let's teach her who's the boss. Daria, the leash!"

One of the women handed Nessa a leash and a collar which were promptly snapped on the journalists neck.

"On all fours!"

The journalist was hesitant.

"Do it, if you don't want anything bad to happen to your boy."

The leashed woman did as was told.

"Now bark."

Tears in her eyes, Elena made a sound that imitated barking.

"Not convincing enough. Try again!"

Elena repeated her attempt, but Nessa was again not satisfied.

"All right then. Perhaps when we paddle you then you'll learn to bark properly. Girls, you have the boy to yourselves."

"No!", yelled Elena.

"Yes", said Nessa, leading the collared woman into the kitchen, where her punishment was due.

----------------------------------------------------------

Having had some training under Mrong Matthew widhtstood groping and forced masturbation. In fact, he realized that he regained his drive much quicker after each orgasm. Perhaps another perk of being an Initiate? Another gal, slightly more perverted than the others, had him strung accross the sofa and paddled. This hurt, but he decided they could have done worse things. In the mean time, Nessa was discovering her artistic nature, as she had Elena bound and photographed in various places and various positions in their home.

Evening fell. The girls from the Center debated as to what to do with the captives. Take them to Urung? No use, said Nessa, the entire city will be hers soon. Eventually they decided to leave them bound, Elena on top of Andrew, on the sofa, until someone finds them.

The boy was in heaven. His mother's shapely breasts were now squashed against his chest. He felt sorry for her, but he knew that taking rash action would imperil the entire operation.

Once the women left, he loosened some of his inhibitions and allowed himself to cum. Elena protested through her gag.

Thankfully the girl that cleave-gagged Andrew did a terrible job of it. He managed to move the gag aside using his tongue alone. Accidentally, it touched his mom's face. She grimaced.

"Anamayeren!", he said, and their bonds sprang free.

"What was that?", asked Elena after she was ungagged.

"I'll explain later", he said. His mother was naked and shaking from the humiliation and spanking, but otherwise okay. For now, however, he had her the way he always wanted her to have. He pressed his lips against hers, all the while fondling her breast.

"Andrew!", she cried out when their lips parted.

"Hell, we're already naked", he kissed her again, while his hand explored her chest, her flat stomach, her buttocks.

He was in heaven.

The lock in the porch clicked open.

"Oh no, not again", Elena was about to break down.

But instead of Nessa and her cohort they saw Mrong and Neyrenna.

"What took you so long?", asked Andrew in Meirennian.

"We knew you will manage", smiled Neyrenna, "And as I can see you have managed pretty well."

"What are you talking about?", asked Elena, "Who are those people?"

"Don't worry, mom, we're the good guys."

"We? What do you mean we?"

"Did you use your power in front of Witch-Queens servants?", Mrong asked in Meirennian.

"Waited until they left."

"Did you conceal your aura?", asked Neyrenna.

"I did."

"What's going on? What's the language are you speaking !?", asked Elena.

"Meirennian."

"When did you learn it?"

"Yesterday."

"Get dressed you two. There will be time for fun later on. We have an opportunity to turn the tide.", said Mrong.

---------------------------------

"What is this place?", Elena took a glance around the run-down store.

"It's a safe haven for now", said Mrong in English, "Right now we're on the verge of preventing a catastrophe. And it's partly thanks to your son that we are."

"I spoke with Alistair and she said there's one little known vulnerability that even the strongest wards have", she continued in Meirennian.

"Is it a Word?", asked Andrew.

"Yes - and no. It's a Word that has to be spoken under some very specific circumstances to work."

"What are these?"

"Strong discharge of sexual energy. Extremely strong discharge."

"How do we get that?", Neyrenna was intrigued.

"Our only hope lies in the Initiate. He's young and only recently discovered how to break through his mental barriers. "

"You mean I've got to get there and masturbate?"

"Not masturbate. You need to discharde extremely strong bout of sexual energy in the ten meter radius from the Wards."

He looked at his puzzled mom.

"You mean have sex with her in this room?"

"This might not be enough. I've got an idea, but it borders on suicide...", said Mrong.

-----------------------------------

It was nearly midnight as they parked their car in front of the building. Elena's mind was still reeling from what she learned.

There was magic. There were other worlds. And she had to go through - as Mrong called it - "breaking through her mental barriers". Admitting to her innermost and most shameful desires.

So she could actually see in her son not a child, but a man and potential lover. She had to free the thought that was always at the back of her mind.

Then she was presented with details of the situation. Abbaramanon. The Sceptre. What happened to Beth. And the only tactical advance they had over the enemy - that she was still ignorant of them. Then Elena was given the Sound and the Sight, becoming an Initiate herself.

Elena knew that there's no return to ordinary life after what happened. The enemies she made this time were too powerful, and she had to pick the right side - or succumb.

She dressed in the sexiest clothing she could for the action. Short skirt that she sometimes - sometimes - took for dates with men she thought were worthy. T-shirt that underscored her bust. Knee-length socks. Black lingerie.

"Am I dressing for a date, or for action?"

"Both you and your son have to be sexually stimulated all the time for the plan to work.", said Mrong.

Now they were near the enemy's stronghold. The plan had to work, or else.

"This is where we split", said Mrong, "Me and Neyrenna go through the main entrance. You go through the top."

They left the car.

"Good luck", said Mrong.

"Good luck", replied Andrew.

He took his mother by her hand and they disappeared in the back alley. Mrong and Neyrenna walked boldly towards the main door.

They "unlocked" the main entrance, went through the empty corridor, down to the door that was always locked; but the lock was not Worded, and they made their way to the skull-and-bones strewn corridor on the third floor.

The bacchants in the Mistress throne chamber were sleeping, exhausted after another day of debauchery. The Mistress herself was not moving, perhaps meditating, perhaps sleeping as well.

"Do you think the Initiate will manage?", asked Mrong.

"Oh, he will. Guys with such cocks never fail."

They entered the room boldly.

"Urung Bawra!", cried Mrong.

The figure stirred.

"Urung Bawra, you fucking bitch!", cried Neyrenna.

The figure stirred and yawned.

"Even the Mistress has to sleep. Who disturbs me?"

"Mrong Ungra from the Second Chapter."

"Neyrenna Neele from the Second Chapter."

The figure pondered their words for a while, and then sprang into a thunderous laughter. Some of the sleeping bacchants began to stir.

"And what are you here for!?", asked Urung Bawra.

"We're here to challenge you for a duel of Words", said Neyrenna, "And mete justice in the name of the Order!"

The figure laughed again. Some of the sleeping worshippers began wake and rise in the darkness.

"Is this all the forces the Order has in this city? If you want to prevent its fall then you must do better."

"Ready !?", asked Mrong.

Neyrenna nodded.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Still can't believe it", said Elena.

"Don't worry, I barely can myself", said her son.

They were standing before the roof entrance.

"Once we go there, there's no turning back, you know?", asked Andrew.

They exchanged another kiss. In addition to being mother and son they were now a pair of lovers going to a perilous mission.

Andrew remembered the way down. The disarmed doors were still disarmed, his Sight told him as much.

They stood before the wards.

"Ready?", asked Andrew.

"Ready.", replied Elena.

They touched the wards, which instantely began to shake and mumble. In no time the doors have opened and a dark-skinned woman entered.

She was nude, and appeared Oriental, just like Mrong.

"Well, well, well", she said, "Two Initiates trying to take on the powerful wards. I'm afraid it will be the end of the Order in this city."

Elena and her son hugged.

"Isn't that Elena Spitzer, the famous journalist? Oh, and her son, also an Initiate. If you joined to enjoy your son's cock then you did it in a very unfortunate time."

Other naked worshippers began to emerge through the door.

"Thankfully, we have an implement right there to punish fallen Initiates... In the other circumstances I'd have you interrogated but it seems that the Order in New York has fallen. So I'll just make those last moments the most painful to you."

----------------------------------------------------------------

Mrong's and Ney's Words were no match for Urung Bawra's power. The two women quickly found themselves overpowered and stripped, and presently hung upside down in front of the creature, who used her tongue to lash their naked bodies.

"Yesss... Yesss... Yesss... ", murmured Urung Bawra.

Tired and perhaps bored with her entertainment, the creature hid her tongue.

"Their blood", she said.

One of the female worshippers produced the knife and began to approach the captives.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The dark-skinned woman had Andrew and his mother stripped naked and put in the glass box in the steam room.

"Enjoy each other - while you can", she said.

"You bet we will", said Andrew.

The woman gave them a parting smile and left.

"We have been caught... stripped... and locked naked... ", whispered Elena.

"They stripped you of your sexy clothes. I actually enjoyed watching that.", said Andrew.

They proceeded with impatient petting and kissing, turned on by their own nudity and peril, until they heard the hissing sound Andrew found familiar.

Steam began to fill the box. Their pleasure was now mixed with pain, that only added to their excitement and heightened the former.

"Now!", yelled Andrew.

In spite of the pain caused by the steam Elena wrapped her legs around her son's waist. He cummed inside her. Bliss of the orgasm and the pain of torture became one.

"Ayarayusayevan!", exclaimed Andrew.

A powerful wave washed over the place. It shattered the walls of Worded glass and proceeded towards the room with the Sceptre. The wards moaned in fear and disappointment, then died. They were again just chunks of stone.

"We did it", said Andrew.

"We did it", said Elena.

"Watch out for glass, it's all over the place", he said.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

One of the bacchants held her knife next to Neyrenna's throat. The naked and bound girl closed her eyes.

"WHAAAT!?", the statue exclaimed out of a sudden.

The bacchant stopped, her knife just inch away from the girl's neck.

"The wards... my wards... my Words... how !?"

The creature was at loss at to what to do.

"The Sceptre! Now! No-ow!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Andrew touched the Sceptre. He could feel its power in his hand.

He had the Sight. He had the Voice.

The doors opened, and the naked bacchants stepped back when they saw him wield the artifact. The one to turn to ice was the tall, dark-skinned woman leading the worshippers. Unfortunately for her, it was a warm night, and the ice statue she turned into began to melt with a blood-curdling scream.

Seeing the demise of their leader, the other worshippers began to retreat in haste.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Urung Bawra heard commotion, and then saw the bacchants running in panic towards the exit.

"Fools! Damn fools!", she cried.

The knife-wielding woman froze, looking at the running crowd, then at her Mistress.

"You lost, you fuckers!", cried Neyrenna, "You know you lost!"

"The Order has the Sceptre!", cried one of the bacchants as he passed by the throne room.

Now the panic has seized the bacchants that attended their Mistress. They started to flow out of the throne room in a frenzied stampede.

"Fools! Fools! Fools!", was all the creature that Urung Bawra has become could say.

The woman that was to cut the captive's throats cast more and more nervous glances back and forth, unsure as to what to do.

Urung Bawra tried to move, but her body was too heavy and all she managed to do was to stir.

"My blood! What are you waiting for, fool! I want my blood NOW!!!"

----------------------------------------------------------------

Andrew and Elena stood at the door of the throne room. It's been mostly empty, as all the worshippers had fled in panic, all but for Mrong and Neyrenna hanging naked from the ceiling, chained upside-down by their ankles, a woman who held knife next to Neirenna's throat, and Urung Bawra herself.

"It's your end, Urung Bawra!", he said as he pointed the sceptre at the creature.

The Mistress turned into ice, just like the dark-skinned woman before her, and then started to melt, emitting a scream so hideous that the last remaining bacchant dropped her knife and darted towards the exit.

Andrew and Elena ran towards the captives.

"Are you all right?", Andrew asked Neyrenna.

"Used to be better", replied the girl, "At least we're alive."

--------------------------------------------------------------

They didn't bother to dress until they were done celebrating. The celebration took place in the very store where Andrew first met Neyrenna and Mrong. Since they made love to each other in turns, Andrew had an opportunity to actually taste Mrong. She was very skilled, much more than Neyrenna, and very passionate.

"You're the followers now", said Mrong after they dressed, "Through and through."

"What happens next?", asked Elena, "We can't just go back to our previous life."

"And would you? Would you trade sex, excitement, adventure and magic for being an investigative journalist again?"

Elena shook her head.

"The Order provides for its members. A couples such as you and Andrew are actually called Apkamai and recognized within our community. For now, you need to undergo basic training."

"I'm afraid I'm too old", said Elena, "I will age, Andrew will age and..."

"Nonsense!", snapped Mrong, "You're an Initiate. You will only age if you desire so."

"And Andrew? Will he stay as young as he is now?"

"Depends on him. He can either stay, or grow as old as you, or..."

Elena shook her head.

"I can't believe it", she said.

"Think in terms of desire, Elena. By joining our religion you left the realm of necessity and entered the realm of DESIRE. For as long as it is sincere and not calculated, it will be fulfilled."

"What about Beth and Myra?"

"You mean the girls who fell captive to the Urung Bawra? It's hard to tell at this moment. The Order will probably do a discreet investigation, now that the threat has been removed. They need to come here to collect the Sceptre, if not for any other reason. Then we might find out what happened to them."

"You spoke about training..."

"Yes. You already heard about Ravenhorn. It's open through all the year, as there's no such thing as summer holiday in Ravenhorn. I believe you can leave on Sunday."

"It's Friday", said Elena, "Or wait, no, it's already Saturday."

"Then put your affairs in order - I know you have little time - and someone from the Order will come to pick you up on Sunday."

"There's just one thing I'd like to do before I leave", Elena said with a wicked smile.

----------------------------------------------------------------

On Saturday noon Nessa was still ignorant about the events that took place in the Center. Instead, she had lunch with her boyfriend at her posh house in the suburbs.

She loved Bradley and his innocence. He made her feel superior. If he only knew what she was really doing... But he was ignorant and, as always, succumbed to her when she was making sweet faces at him.

Bradley was the type of innocent, slightly feckless intellectual, almost a nerd, overjoyed that a woman as attractive as Nessa took interest in him. And it would have never occured to him he was nothing more than her toy.

The last thing Nessa expected this afternoon was a doorbell. Who was it? She didn't expect a delivery.

"I'll be right back, honey", she said, making a sweet face.

Her expression turned from surprise to horror when she saw who actually was behind the door.

The journalist she had tied up with her son. The sonny himself. A beautiful oriental woman who must have been from Krang-Tong, just like Urung Bawra herself. A teenage bitch with an annoying smile on her face.

They all looked at her keenly.

She slammed the door and tried calling the Center, but nobody answered.

The door has opened as if by itself.

"Hello, Nessa", said Elena.

"Don't bother calling Pure Bliss", said Neyrenna, "The Center is a history."

"What... How?..."

"What's going on?", her boyfriend asked from the kitchen in his nerdish voice.

"Nothing, honey, everything is all right."

"We insist you to come with us", said Mrong.

"But... I have a dinner... with my boyfriend..."

"Boyfriend will wait", said Elena.

------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the Psychic Store they had Nessa stripped and tied up. The naked captive squirmed when she saw that Elena had the Sceptre pointed in her direction.

"No!", she cried.

"Yes, Nessa, yes", said Elena.

"Since when you've become an Initiate?", the girl asked in a trembling voice.

"Since yesterday. And I already have a significant victory on my hands."

"We have", said Andrew.

"It's over, Nessa", said Mrong, "Urung Bawra is dead and the Sceptre is in the hands of the Order. Do you have anything to say?"

"No, it's impossible", said the captive, "We were so close..."

"Anyway, this lady would like to have her payback", Mrong nodded at Elena, "Elena?"

The former journalist rose from the chair. Andrew decided that something changed in her - for the better. She seemed stronger, more relaxed, and sexier than ever.

Elena put down the Sceptre.

"We're not turning you into ice statue, not this time", she said, "Who was the young man you've been with?"

"Br-bradley... But don't involve him in this... He's... innocent..."

"Oh, look who's talking", said Elena, browsing through the numbers in Nessa's mobile, "Bernard, Brooke, Bradley. I think it's him."

"No, please!"

"Tit for tat", said Elena, as she snapped a picture of Nessa in her present predicament.

"Don't, please!"

Her captors laughed. Even Mrong, always so reserved, allowed herself for a quiet laughter.

"Let's make it clear for Bradley what he's missing", said Elena, sending the photo.

"What will you do with me?", asked the trembling girl.

"You will be sent to Orders headquarters in Meirenn to stand trial", said Mrong.

"But first, we will teach you a lesson you will never forget", said Elena.

----------------------------------------------------------

In the evening Elena and Andrew were back home, due to leave tomorrow. Mrong told them they're not leaving permanently, and they will be allowed back during holidays and after their training is finished.

Elena donned her sexiest clothing - a sexy, one-shoulder chiffron evening gown, and beneath she wore her another strapless bra - the one that Nessa didn't destroy. Brad brought them wine. They turned on the TV, but were too preoccupied with each other to actually pay attention to the news.

There was a moment of silence as Elena smiled at her son, and even this silence was pregnant with erotic tension. Elena looked at her son with a sensual smile, and Andrew looked at the woman who's been every man's dream, and just happened to be his mother, knowing full well what charms are hidden beneath the gown. But he also appreciated the way she was teasing him. After all, now they had all the time in the world. Literally.

"You did quite well at the Center", she said, "Given you were naked and litterally under pressure."

"You've also been naked in the steam room and did well", he said.

They remembered their predicament. Andrew found that the memory of it makes his member hard.

"Still getting hard-on when thinking about it?", asked Elena.

"Yeah."

"It gets me excited as well. We were together, nude and in danger. Like a real couple of Meirennian lovers, Mrong has said... Or something to the effect."

They kissed.

"Do you remember my idea back then?"

"What idea?"

"Betting about who will die first in a horror movie?"

Elena took a sip of wine.

"I think I like it", she said.

"But there would be a forfeit for the loser."

Unbeknown to Elena, he actually talked about this idea with Neyrenna. She found it kinky, and lent him a coil of worded rope.

Now he presented it to his mother.

"Oh", she said, taking another sip.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Where are you going, you idiot!", screamed Andrew.

The college student died by the claws of a little girl.

"Haunting of Darkwitch Manor 3" was so derviative they didn't even pay attention to the storyline.

"Shirt goes off", said Elena, taking another sip of wine.

Andrew took it off and threw to the floor. Damn it.

Thankfully, the bitchy chick who he predicted will die next, died next.

"The gown", he said with obvious satisfaction.

Elena started taking it off, slowly and seductively.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"And that's the fate of losers", Andrew said.

Five dead college students later Elena was lying naked on the sofa, bound hand and foot

Andrew took time admiring the naked body of his mother.

"Indeed I lost", she said, pretending to be scared, "Have mercy on me."

"You are my captive now, as we agreed."

"I am. I lost and I am now your captive."

"I can do with you whatever I please."

"You can do with me whatever you please."

Andrew relished in his power. Elena - in her powerlessness.

The summer night was still young.

Tomorrow, a secret plane was to take them to Ravenhorn.