The Burning (47 page)

“Now, wash him, Freya. I think it’s time for us to take turns sucking him.”

He could last. He could. They could do what they would to him, and he would last. Van Helsing would not ravish Ann for hours. And somehow, in that time, he would find a way out of the clutches of his tormentors. They couldn’t keep up their compulsion forever, could they?

Twenty-Four

Ann swam up through a haze of fog. She had been dreaming. Images careened through her head, horrible images of women with blood dripping from their mouths, and then she was one of them, and she was tearing flesh with her teeth. And then, in her dreams, Stephan was there. His voice was calming. He was saying something to her about the fact that she was strong now, and she had to use that strength.

Slowly, she began to be aware of her surroundings. She was in a bed. Red and gold brocade. It was scratchy against her bare back. The room was cold. She turned her head. No wonder. The fire had died down. And no one had pulled the curtains. They still looked out on night and tossing trees. But dawn was coming. She knew that. She wasn’t sure how. It would be dawn in an hour or two. She felt heavy, as though she was under a load of blankets that were tucked too tightly around her so she couldn’t move. Perhaps she didn’t have to move. Maybe she would never move again. That should be comforting. And yet something poked at her, a sense of
urgency she could not identify. How could she think with all the cobwebs in her head?

You’re strong now, Ann
.

That was Stephan’s voice. Was it Stephan? Or was it her new partner, her Companion? There! That was it. She was changed. She was like Stephan now.

Stephan! She pulled her head around. She had to be strong for Stephan. She could hear things now, through the lamb’s wool in her ears; the hiss of the coals in the grate; the branches of the lilac tree brushing against the window, and breathing accompanied by a soft burr. She blinked and tried to raise her head. It throbbed at her. The world spun. She lay back down.

Use your strength, Ann
. The voice inside her reminded her of Stephan, but it wasn’t exactly Stephan.
I am your strength
.

I need all the strength I can muster,
she thought.
Give me strength
.

The world stopped spinning. The throb subsided. That was better. She could think more clearly now. It seemed as though the strength was in her blood, coursing through her body. She could feel it, pushed by her heart, surging out to her fingers and toes.

She tried raising her head again. She was naked, lying across her uncle’s bed.

Erich sat in the chair in the corner by the fireplace. His receding chin was on his chest. He wore a brocade dressing gown and Moroccan slippers. A glass of brandy, slack in his hand, had spilled on his trousers. The burr came from his snoring.

It all came back. Erich was going to ravish her, and the Daughters had Stephan and meant to punish him, maybe kill him. Had Erich . . .?

She didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t want to know. She struggled to sit. That made the cobwebs start accumulating in the corners of her mind.

No. She couldn’t allow that. She had to find Stephan. Now she knew what to do.
Companion,
she thought, as clearly as she could.
Whatever strength you have, I need it now
.

The answering surge along her veins made her feel alive. Anything was possible. That was a good thing, because she had to find Stephan. She looked around for something to cover her nakedness. The dress lying in a heap on the floor was torn down the front.

Where would Stephan be? Where could they have taken him? She got to her feet, a little shaky, and put one hand to her forehead. But the feeling passed. She slid quietly to the wardrobe and pulled it open. Her uncle’s clothes still hung there. A dressing gown? It would drag on the ground and hinder her. She took one of his fine linen shirts and slipped it over her head. It was like to slip over her shoulders. So she tiptoed to the dresser and fished out one of his cravats. This she tied under her breasts like a belt. That would keep it on. What difference being clothed made she couldn’t say. But she felt more able to face what might come.

She turned back into the room and took a breath. Erich might know where Stephan was. She hadn’t felt his knowledge before, but maybe that was because of the laudanum.
I’m strong,
she thought.
And he needed their help to drug me. Well, they aren’t here now
.

She took up her uncle’s hazelwood cane and strode over to where Van Helsing snored. She could get an impression of what he knew by touching him, but that thought was repulsive. She poked his shoulder with it at the same time she called to her Companion. He snorted in surprise and turned his bleary eyes up to her, even as a red film dropped over the room for her.

“Where is he, Erich?” She asked it matter-of-factly.

He practically crawled up the back of the wing chair trying to retreat. But the red eyes her Companion gave her forced him to answer. “The . . . the crypts.”

A shudder passed through her as she realized how similar the dark stone of the crypts would be to that stone room in which he had suffered for so long. All that was missing was the heat, and if they put that long cold fireplace to use . . .

Very well. That was her destination. She shook her head to clear the last of the cobwebs.

“You . . . you were supposed to be drugged,” Erich accused.

“And so I was,” she answered, looking around. “But you fell asleep, and apparently the laudanum wore off.” She returned to the dresser and pulled out a pile of neatly folded cravats. These she tossed to Erich. “Now, lie down on the bed and tie your feet to the bedposts.”

His wide-eyed surprise turned rebellious for an instant. Ann smiled as she let her eyes go red again. His mouth went slack and his eyes emptied. She watched as he tied himself to the bed. She tested the knots, then tied his hands to the posts next to the headboard and pulled them tight. “That should keep you from interfering,” she breathed. Then she hurried from the room at a trot. She might be rushing to her death, but choices were gone. She had to help Stephan. He might not believe her, but she thought that together they might be able to win through. Even if they couldn’t, what could she do but try?

“You can’t leave me here,” Erich shouted after her.

But she could. She was glad to leave him. He had tortured women, cheated honest people, and preyed on anyone he thought was weaker. Well, that wasn’t her, not anymore.

She heard a choked sob behind her as she closed the door.

Now there was no one left to hear him.

Stephan felt his control weakening. They had unlocked his chains. He couldn’t hold out much longer. He was so tired and the molten core at his center surged against his will
harder than ever. He could practically feel it splash and bubble. Chanting seemed useless at this point. He had endured everything. Periodically they would let him take a gasping breath or two of rest, but that was only so that the sensation could be brought back renewed and even more virulent. A tight band of gold at the base of his cock seemed to constrict him, inflame him. They had sucked him until he wanted to scream. They had fed from him several times to maintain their own strength, and Dee made wounds on his body as Stancie once had. Dee had probed his backside as Freya sucked him. And Dee had branded him. But he healed. He always healed.

If it wasn’t for Ann, he would welcome the conflagration. He longed for the torment to end. But he couldn’t desert Ann. It had been so many hours. Was Van Helsing ravishing her even as he writhed here on this coffin?

Stephan panted as Dee lay back on the stone lid of the coffin herself and bade him insert his cock between her spread legs. The band around the base of his cock made him even more aware of his genitals. He thrust inside her as he bent to suckle at her breast. She pulled the fabric that plunged from shoulders to waist aside. He tongued her nipple as she arched up into him. She compelled him to move faster inside her. Freya watched. Stephan looked up at her from under his lashes. She had been looking more and more unhappy over the last hour. Her eyes were red, her lips set, but they were set in a frown.

“Pay attention, Harrier,” Dee barked. “Be more assiduous in your attentions. He is near to finishing. We must keep the pressure on now.”

“And what if he combusts and burns us up with him?” Freya asked sourly.

“We’ll feel the final intensification. His vibrations will go off the scale. At that point, it’s unstoppable. We pull away, that’s all.” She thrust her hips in counterpoint to Stephan.
Stephan felt the room begin to spin. The lava in his loins and belly surged.

“He’s very close,” Dee said, panting herself. “Roll over,” she commanded. “Lick me. Freya, suck him, hard and fast.”

“Dee, he’s been punished enough. Let him go.”

Stephan could hardly believe his ears. He rolled over, a sick feeling surging over him. He struggled against the burning in his core. He pushed frantically against their will. He had to hold out. He had to, for Ann.

“Don’t you go soft on me, Freya, or Father will punish you as you’ve never been punished. How can you desert him at a time like this?” Dee straddled Stephan’s shoulders. Her folds opened and he had no choice but to suck at her. “Now get over here and push him over the edge.” After a long moment, he felt Freya’s hands on his cock and then her mouth.
God! Please God in heaven, or Companion, or whoever might help. Help me now!

Ann slid into the darkness of the crypts she knew so well. Caves and crypts had been her places of solace and refuge for so many years that they held no terror for her now. But now the smell of dust and damp stone was overpowered by the scent of cinnamon and ambergris. She heard gasping and grunting, moans. They were torturing Stephan. It made her feel sick inside. She set her jaw and slipped up behind the next huge pillar.

Peering around the pillar, she saw a sight that nearly stopped her heart. Stephan was laid out over a stone coffin, naked. The taller of the two Daughters, the one Stephan had called Deirdre, straddled him. Stephan licked her, even as he gasped and struggled. It was her moaning. Stephan’s back was arched. He strained with every muscle. Sweat gleamed on his body. The other Daughter, Freya, sucked on Stephan’s cock. Their eyes were burgundy red. Stephan
writhed against them. Ann could feel not only their vibrations, but a horrible swelling throb in the air. It came from Stephan, she was sure.

“Soon, now,” Deirdre called to her sister behind her. “His control of the forces inside him is fading. Get ready to jump back when the cycle becomes inevitable. We must be out of range when he ignites.”

Ignites?
Dear God in heaven!

Her heart jumped into her throat. She could barely breathe. She had to think. What to do to help him? Compulsion practically hung in the air. They were bottling him up inside and stimulating him until he was going to just . . . burn up? Her mind rebelled. She searched her memories of his experience, looking for whether he thought this could actually happen. And she found the stain on the wall in the room at Mirso Monastery. He thought that was what had happened to others the Daughters had tortured before him with their horrible training. And now they were trying to kill him in the same way.

She wanted to just dash to his side. But she had to be careful. The Daughters were strong. What to
do
? There was no time!

Before she could think, the shorter one he had called Freya raised herself from where she was working Stephan’s erection with her mouth. She shook her head and stepped back. Ann could see the painful arch in Stephan’s body ease a little, and the throb of energy that made her spine tremble edged down a notch.

“Freya, get back to it!” Deirdre said sharply. “We’re almost there.”

“I can’t do this.” Freya’s voice was flat. She didn’t look at her sister, or at Stephan.

Stephan had stopped licking Deirdre, as though, when her attention shifted to Freya, he had been released.

“Damn you, sister!” Deirdre got off Stephan’s shoulders.
“What a time to get tired! There’s no time to feed from him to renew yourself.” She shouldered Freya aside. “I’ll rub him. All you have to do is keep up your end of the compulsion.” Deirdre sat at Stephan’s hips and clasped his cock roughly in one hand. As she moved up and down on the shaft, she stroked the tip with the other thumb. Stephan immediately arched up again with a cry wrenched from his gut. His eyes went instantly red. Around him there grew a . . . corona of energy, like the glow of whitish light that had enveloped them at Bucklands Lodge.