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Chapter 05
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Disoriented, stumbling every few steps, and grasping through an overload of her senses, David searched for a doorway. She sought a single room in particular. Where was this place? Then she found a light, and a mirror. David jumped back when he saw the horned woman standing before her. Their boobs bounced in unison. She reached for the mirror after little hesitation.

Her boobs were round and beautiful. Her boobs. That was going to take getting used to. Upon peeking down further, David thought to herself So is that. That left the all too important question of what had happened. The last thing she remembered was an unseen force consuming David while the blade of a dagger continued to work the inside of his chest. Then there was Kyra.

“Kyra? Who’s that?” she asked. “Kyra, you idiot. Twenty, daughter of your former colleague, you broke up with her and she still loves you. Then, wait, who am I?” She groped the curled horns above her ears. Her whole body was different. She turned only at the waist. “Wings. I have wings, and they’re small.” The wings retracted when David decided she didn’t want them there. Amazed by this, she tried it with the horns. “Damn, that didn’t work. What about my powers?”

The ice armor and cold air he once used to command wouldn’t come. However, she went back to the bed and found that she could still lift it with one hand as though it were a pizza box. David set it down when the weight on the other end threatened to break the entire piece of furniture with a creak. It would have been a shame if that happened. The frame was made from hard wood, and carved with lots of meticulous care.

On the other side of the door, a servant girl knocked on the door. “Mistress?” she said. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I heard a noise.” She presumed nothing. That would be blasphemy. That would be death, or worse!

David, realizing that she had company—and the fact that she was still very much naked—said while covering herself with a sheet, “What was that? Who are you calling ‘Mistress?’”

“Oh, have mercy! Would you like a greater title? I can—“

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. Why are you groveling behind the door? Please, enter.”

“I cannot, Mistress. No one may enter your room except to protect you, or to provide you with sustenance.”

“Well then, it would be a shame if no one protected me from loneliness while I seek answers to my questions. Enter, please.”

“Forgive my saying so, but your request is most . . . unusual.” She entered the room, cowering her eyes. She was not worthy.

“That’s a start. First of all, you’ve called me mistress. How long have you been in my employ?”

“You were entrusted to us. The master of the estate is away, but he sent us a message yesterday saying to expect a gift. Then we found you this morning on the shore bearing his marks only seconds before they vanished. Being the last serving girl here, I alone had to make sure you were comfortable. One of the men died. Truly, you are the long-awaited one.”

“Died? How?”

“I’d rather not say, Mistress. It was too terrible. The Circle did not anticipate it. Please, don’t make me say it.”

“It’s OK.” The Circle? The girl did wear a robe like they did. David went on, “I’m sorry to hear of his death.”

“I thought my life as I know it was over, Mistress.”

“You look exhausted. It is dark outside. Why don’t you get some sleep?” David needed some rest herself, and time to think. She was in the care of the Circle. This could be problematic, or it could be the most interesting opportunity in a heroic career she thought was over. “What is it?”

“I’m supposed to be standing guard outside your room until the Master returns, whenever that is. Even if I should die before the day comes.”

“Nonsense. You look like you’ll collapse before the sun is up. Do you have nothing outside this room? Here, take my bed.”

“That would be blasphemy. I cannot. Not unless... not unless...” the servant girl’s sobs drowned out any other words she had.

“You have my permission, and my word that nothing will happen to you. Come on.” David lifted the girl, and set her upon the bed. “Have a good night.”

David walked toward a chair that she saw in one corner of the bedroom. The servant clearly wanted to protest, but it was as if she couldn’t without facing a terrible fate. David sat back in the chair and pondered about her situation.

Hours later, David realized that she dozed off, and it was about dawn. The servant was moaning in her sleep. It had an erotic edge to it, but also a sad one. David got out of her bed, and reached for the servant before realizing again that she was naked. The girl stirred awake when David said, “This is so going to take getting used to.”

“Mistress?” asked the girl. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

David rested a finger on the servant’s lips. “You’re fine. There is no need to apologize. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I think I wet your bed.”

“You did what? Oh.” She did not expect the sight of vaginal fluids on the bed. It was starting to arouse her even, but she brought that feeling under control. “Are you feeling a little better, at least? Sleep-wise, I mean.”

The servant nodded nervously. “If I may, Mistress, I need to go. I will bring you clean sheets if you desire.” She ran out of the room before David could say another word. David did, however, follow with a sheet, and found the girl outside the door. The girl was crouched and crying, so David wrapped herself around the girl with a blanket over them. She slipped out from beneath the sheet after David was done hugging the servant girl.

“You really are unusual, Mistress.”

***

Later in the morning, the three servant mages sat or stood around the kitchen watching the television when their Mistress walked in. One of the two men scrambled to turn off the television and set down the remote while all three of them bowed on the ground. Even the girl who was relieved of guard duties a couple hours earlier, and gave the Mistress one of her robes due to her wardrobe “being too provocative.”

David said, “Good morning, everyone.” One servant was already proving to take effort, but three? She had trouble ahead of her. “I’ve decided that I’m hungry. What do we have here?” One man shook, and failed to fully conceal a scream. David, however, grabbed from the fruit bowl on the counter. The apple felt odd. “Relax. Don’t let me interrupt your entertainment.” She bit into the apple.

And then spat it out. Wax! She checked the fridge, and found it empty. “Where is the real food?” David asked. Then again, the poor mages looked like they had not eaten in some time.

One of them said, “There are fruit trees outside, Mistress, but we are not to touch them. We are not to touch any food unless you, or the master, command us to do so.”

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Two days! Most mages who are exiled from covens don’t live very long without the order to eat. Please, Mistress, will you bless us to a single meal?”

“What? No! Bless you with a single meal? That is ludicrous. You know what I’m going to do?” All three mages were shaking, possibly on the verge of tears now. “I hereby order each of you to eat three square meals every day for the rest of your lives. And will you turn the television back on?” No one did so. They were clearly confused. David sighed. She grabbed the remote, and turned it on.

The first channel was a boring show about two politically opposing men and their mediator arguing over vigilante rights. This came on every Sunday since an incident had occured when a heroic idol killed a man almost six years ago. Today’s topic was the current state of the hero and villain level system, suggesting that whoever came up with it was a fool; it was the same guest sitting in the same chair as David recalled.

Following that was a couple of news stations covering Talos Hospital. David looked down at her limited attire, and decided she needed to do something about that before going out and being confused for a villain. She continued to flip through channels with cartoons, church gossip, and an outlandish news team—the one that never reported on anything important, and rarely anything real—doing a story on a cult that prayed to cartoons.

“Weird,” David said before changing the channel one last time. “What the?”

Next was a new cooking program with two hosts. One was a former rock star and small-time villain before he lost all ability to use his knee, and he was the host and commentator. The other was the cook—a man with a leather jacket, a white apron, a dark beard, and a white motorcycle helmet with stereotypical Viking horns instead of his usual black helmet that he was known for. Sigurd Volsang, a hero from ages past, was now a star on a cooking show.

David broke down laughing. She said, “No way.” Her laughter was snatching away at her words faster than she could say them. “Since when . . . could he . . . boil water?”

The mages did not know how to react to this predicament. None of their training or orders said anything about a mistress rolling on the floor laughing when she saw something on the television. So they laughed along with her nervously. This mistress sat up and calmed down in time for pyrotechnics to go off in the background while the chef successfully opened a couple eggs. Then she fell forward again with more laughter.

“This is so wrong, and yet so beautiful,” David exclaimed. When the show was over, she turned off the television, and said, “Alright, let’s get something from outside.” Then she strolled outside before any of the mages could think to protest her.

The gardens and orchard outside the mansion was gorgeous. There was no way that this was kept by three or even four people, David thought. But, she saw no one else.

The female servant, Genine, said “Please, Mistress. Have mercy on us. We’ve been using the hired help of teenagers to take care of this place until the master returns so he can see it burn. We had no idea you would have seen it, or we would have burned it this morning.”

“Nope,” said David. “We’re not burning it.”

“But it’s beautiful, and brings life.”

“That’s a good thing. Teenagers, you say?”

“Well, they need work, and no one else would hire them. Are you not mad?” The only response Genine got was a stern look from her Mistress. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t stand it, Mistress. Punish me, kill me already. I beg your mercy.”

“Stop that already.” David sighed. “And stop calling me ‘Mistress.’ I have a name, don’t I?”

The mages glanced at one another. One said, “My apologies, Mistress, but we were never informed of your true name. We assumed that we were not worthy.”

David glanced down and held up her bosom. “I suppose David won’t do. Not when I’m like this.” She let go, and smiled at the mages. “Call me Mary.”

Genine said, “Oh, great Marylesquedoth—“

“Uh, no. Please. Just Mary, or Maryann. I always liked that name.”

“You truly are unusual, Mistre . . . Maryann.”

“There, now it’s settled,” said Maryann. She could get used to that name as long as she needed to. “Let’s see. I know Genine’s name. What about you two?” She reached out, and the two men shied away in fear before holding still, still shivering. “What? I won’t hurt you.”

“My pardon, M-Maryann,” said Genine, “but that was how our fourth died yesterday. No man can touch you without losing his mind, and . . . and wanting to have sex with you. It was too much for him, and you devoured his essence in your slumber.”

“I did what?” Then the answer hit her. It sunk her moral fiber. “That’s right, I’m a succubus now. How do I know that?” She examined her hands and robe. “It is strange. I’m still me, but I do not have all the same memories. Everything that happened after my awakening, I know, but everything before is different. That defiant hero! I was trapped in that artifact, and he sacrificed himself instead of the girl! But I’m him. I remember growing up as him. His ways are mine now. What is this? This isn’t right. This isn’t right.” Maryann fell to her knees on the grass. “I’m supposed to be all me, not . . . me.”

That light had enveloped Adamast Cross and Ohm Wire. It was supposed to take the girl, and she was supposed to devour his essence once his mind was lost to pleasure. Maryann was supposed to be free to roam the earth and feed on men like she did centuries ago. Maryann? What sort of name was that? She picked it. She liked it as David always had, and she picked it from a childhood David once knew. But it was the name she was born with. Another name echoed in the back of her mind like a faint voice in the end of a cavern when there was a howling wind outside.

Then she screamed.

“Mis-Maryann?” called one of the mages.

Maryann covered her face with her hands, and stood. She took deep breaths; she did not count how many. Then she looked upon the mages. Maryann said, “This is only temporary. Imagine your mind sharing two sets of memories, but you can only access one at a time. Yes, I can work with this. Now, about this food we have. Take a piece of fruit, and enjoy its nectar. And hand me one, please? Anything. There is much I would like to try. There is an errand I would like you three to run, when you are ready.”

***

Wyatt slipped into bed at home, finding that his wife was helping herself to a plate of fries with honey. The fries looked extra salty again, like they had for the last couple weeks. He was not about to question it.

Tatiana, however, asked, “What did you learn?”

He replied, “Huh? Oh, the hospital is going to be closed a couple days for reconstruction. Again. I’ll have to work at Founder’s in the meantime. Luckily, no one was hurt that I heard of. Even the cancer patient I told you about the other day seemed fine, far more than usual. It was mind boggling. When I left, they were running a final test to confirm the impossible.”

“What do you mean impossible?”

“Cancer doesn't cure itself. I mean, in theory it can with the right natural treatments, given the right case, but not in a single afternoon from such an advanced stage. And, villains are not known to heal the sick and wounded. I could not, in my profession, get involved right then. Not in any capacity I wanted to.”

“Well, you’re home now, and it’s time to relax.”

She was right. It was a long weekend, and they were going to snuggle with what was left of the Sunday afternoon while the sun was going down. The news on the television showed a reporter talking outside of the UHOW—Unlimited House of Waffles—in Founder’s Creek. Wyatt turned up the volume so he could hear it and sate his curiosity.

“No one knows, John,” said the reporter. “All we know is that some Circle mages entered this restaurant a couple hours ago, and half of the costumers fled. There has been no sign of violence or threats, and the law enforcement and heroes are on standby. No one wants another incident like in Talos this morning.”

Just then, three mages walked out. One of them cheered, another wielded some sort of sacramental staff, and all three carried to-go boxes. They spotted the camera, and walked toward it, in a phalanx around the reporter who was trying to hold his professional ground.

One mage, a male one, wrapped an arm around the reporter and said to the camera, “Hey, this food is awesome, and Maryann is the best mistress ever!” He walked off, shouting another “Woo.” The other male mage kissed the reporter on the cheek, and followed his companion along with the female one.

Wyatt and Tatiana gaped. What could anyone say to that? Then they received a message on Wyatt’s phone. It was from Jeff, who had finally given them his number, and they theirs. The message read:

“Please tell me you’re watching this.”