Zoey was huddled on the ground when Ruby found her. Small and barely perceptible shivers wracked her frame. Her arms wrapped around her knees, as though drawing herself inside will provide relief. But she was not alone. Ruby wished she were. Three men in sweaty and unwashed denims surrounded her.

  Ruby stopped. For a brief instant, she flirted with the idea of calling Mom or Kelly or, better, Or. But Zoey’s whimpering sobs came unobstructed. Then one of the men leaned, and his lips moved. Zoey shook her head, a very visible denial, while she kept her head down.

  “Seriously. Take the hint.” Ruby’s voice came louder. Her tone carried anger. “Leave. Now!”

  All three heads snapped towards her.

  But it was Zoey who moved first. She scrambled. As soon as she rose, she rushed, weaving past the three till she safely hid behind Ruby.

  “My girlfriend’s comes. It’s alright. I am fine.” As if consolidating her words, Zoey even kissed Ruby on the lips. It came fast and took her lips with untamed force. But her softness, her moistness, they all were there. And disappeared. Leaving behind lingering traces. Ruby could swear they were genuine had she not had got the girl-code memo.

  Her hands wrapped tighter, clutching and clinging to her. Fingers found purchase on her waist. Ruby could sense Zoey’s trembling. Her body burned. And her arousal. Zoey’s scent carried hints.

  “Ah, right. Is that so?” One of them gave a non-committal response. Their eyes still stayed on the way Zoey held to Ruby the same way one inspects a pipe in winter for cracks. “You need to take better care of your girlfriend.”

  The words were worse than unwanted advice because they were patronising and also egregious.

  “Fair enough.” Ruby took Zoey by the arms.

  “You girls sure that you can take care of each other.” Another one spoke. His tone seemed less patronising. His gaze remained glued.

  “We are fine. Neither my girlfriend nor I need any help.” Ruby kept her voice steady. Her posture firm. Her attention was unwavering. But her thoughts roamed, finding ways to keep Zoey safe.

  “I don’t know, you seem new... I mean, you girls are new together. Still figuring. And I am trying to make sure you are safe. That’s all.”

  Ruby’s gaze flickered. When Zoey flinched, she tightened her hold. Zoey’s touch came. Not exactly gropes, but they sought comfort. Touching. Rubbing. Each one conveyed her desperation. “Let’s leave. Please.”

  “I said we are fine.” Ruby imbibed her voice with a tempered edge, but those three looked like they toyed with such attitudes on a regur basis. She wished, desperately and as incongruent as it might be, to have Mom’s domineering presence. Morgane Spenard could charm when she wants and sunder wills with a single arched brow when she feels.

  Was she even the War Queen’s daughter if she failed to turn three meddling good Samaritans away?

  She met their gaze and found them wavering. They shifted from Zoey to her and eventually fell on the grounds where her shadow trailed. Two moved away. One held for a paltry three more seconds for his courage to drain.

  “You be good to each other. Okay?” He left with a swiftness that increased with each gathering distance.

  “What happened?” Ruby gave form to thoughts, asking no one in particur.

  “That’s because they saw me.” Cybele approached with a well-abused duffel bag slung over her shoulders. Her steps were still obnoxiously loud, but not the grin she wore.

  “I kind of left her a voice message, too.” Zoey stammered.

  “And I came, well, as fast as I could.” Cybele approached. Her movements seemed less fluid than normal, especially with all the accumuted dust, sweat, grime, whatever else... she picked up. “I mean, I arrived at the right time. I am pretty awesome, remember?”

  “Great.” Ruby replied over her attempts to ignore Zoey leaning further on her. “So we can bring Zoey to her house?”

  “No. I live with mom, dad and annoying siblings.” Zoey clenched her thighs. Her panting broke her words in between. “I don’t want to see my parents or my brothers in this... state.”

  “How about your house, then?” Ruby gestured to Cybele with her chin.

  “Excuse me. That is a very broad assumption.” Cybele rolled her neck. Her ughter came, rolled in plenty of awkwardness. “I am barely tolerated in my own pce. I live with my retives. They are nice. But not nice enough to like me.”

  Ruby’s gaze shifted between Zoey and Cybele when the former ambled closer. Zoey’s body flushed against her, too close enough for her to perceive the subtle gyrations of Zoey’s pelvis against her hips and the heavy breathing that came alone.

  “Besides.” Cybele shrugged like that was the most obvious gesture under the given situation. “When you are horny, you need something stiff. Not dead and stiff.”

  “Where are you living?” Ruby tried to ignore the further press of Zoey on her body. “Please tell me you are not living in a cemetery.”

  “I told, I live with a few… sort of distant retives.” Cybele adjusted her bag. She pondered, contempting. And her grin returned. “Actually, a pretty good option would be to take her to your pce. I mean, the witch-mother, your mom, would know what to do. She is bound to provide help when we expin.”

  “No. Not Mom’s house. Never.” Ruby considered Cybele. Her attention moved towards Zoey. Her arms tightened, pulling her closer, protectively, and also possessively. Finally, it all came, falling together. Zoey was flustered, a drenching red. Her lips quivered with pleasure-turned-pain. They were filled and swollen and aching.

  “Please, can we?” Zoey eventually pleaded.

  But going to Mom’s meant... Not when the events of the afternoon etched fresh in Ruby’s mind. In Mom’s too.

  Ruby lowered her attention, suddenly finding mundane designs on pavements interesting. Expining Zoey’s situation to Mom without drawing attention to their accidental text messages would be difficult. No pusible expnation could she provide on why she did not stop Mom immediately.

  Where would Mom even start? Ruby didn’t know because she had never faced it before. Would Mom make everything better? Or worse? Her gut suggested otherwise.

  “I know another who would help us.” Ruby pced her palms beneath Zoey’s arm, supporting her weight. “Raisa will help us.”

  They stood outside ‘The Elysian.’

  A light thrum of beats spilled from the inside, but no line of partygoers scuttled outside. Ruby counted that as a good sign. Only another bulldog looking fully jacked muscle mass in a suit, waited outside, guarding the entrance. How does Raisa even manage to find such uncanny features, especially given their obvious job descriptions?

  She walked forward. Zoey followed Ruby. Only Cybele tugged them to stop from behind.

  “When you said Raisa, you meant the High Priestess Raisa? Like Raisa who owns The Elysian?” Cybele followed with her snort-ugh. They came out frustrating and epiphany filled. “You two go ahead. I will stick around. Call me for backup... or something. I mean, if things happen. I will just loiter around.”

  “Why?” Ruby tilted her head to Cybele and found her slowly ambling a few steps back. “Is there something we should know?”

  “Have I told you about the time when I was the centre of a misunderstanding? I think not.” More snort-ugh followed. “I have a House permaban.”

  “Cybele, I thought we were in this together.” Ruby’s stance remained steadfast. Her voice held firm, as was her support for Zoey. “Only Raisa could help us now.”

  Cybele shrugged, brushing past her hair. Her attention remained on the door blocked by the escort. “It’s noth...” Cybele stiffened. The bulldog escort’s focus settled on her. “... Call me if you need me. I will stick around.” Cybele darted, clutching her dirty duffel bag.

  Ruby squared her shoulders. She tried to meet the man’s gaze. He appeared increasingly like a gate guardian, less like an escort. She tried to pull the same gait as Mom to look impervious. And Ruby failed.

  “What about you two?” His eyes, deep sunken and veiled beneath a droopy eyelid, flicked from Ruby to Zoey. “Got any ids?”

  Ruby got none. Zoey’s id will not get them in.

  “Tell Raisa. Ruby is here.”

  He twisted his neck in a slow, nguid movement, all done with extreme lethargy. “Hey Raisa, there is a Ruby here to see you.” He spoke to the air. After three seconds, he dropped his gaze to Ruby. “No response. Guess you are not that important. Now leave. This is the pce your mother warned you about.”

  “Just for the record...” Ruby inched closer, but her grasp never forgot Zoey. “...I have been here with my mom. She forced Raisa to receive us.”

  “Right.” He spilled those words with the same effort of someone listening to an urban myth. Next, his palms, thick and huge and strong enough to crack bones like twigs, settled on her shoulder.

  Ruby became acutely aware of how small her shoulders became in his grasp.

  “Who is your mom? Morgane fucking Spenard.” The shove never came. His gaze shifted beyond Ruby, settling on the grounds. His body stiffened and his eyes bulged from their deep sockets.

  Under other circumstances, had Ruby not witnessed first hand, standing closer, and had she received it as a second hand tale, she would have dismissed. But now she stood very near to deny. In fact, the proximity made it surreal. Those were sheer dread manifested on his face. Ruby could hardly believe that such expressions belonged on his face. That the stiff pulled and muscle defined face was capable of such an emotion. Whatever he saw invoked primordial fear, ingrained deep within his psyche. His muscles and limbs refused to cooperate.

  “That’s because she is Morgane’s daughter.” Another voice, deep and yet distinctly female, came. The speaker came closer. “Welcome Miss.”

  Ruby recognised her. The Chauffeur, who endured her rather private noises with Raisa, now stood in a thick leather jacket. Her hands were tucked inside the pockets, but her smile was open. “Raisa is not around. But...” Her words trailed as her sight raked Zoey. “... a bit of a private pce can be arranged.” Then she turned to the man. “Lead them to one of the private, exclusive cabins. Provide anything they want. Don’t hand her a bill.”

  “I am sure that css of treatment won’t be needed.” Ruby flustered. She needed the pce for Zoey, but she was unprepared for the sudden attention.

  “Don’t worry Miss.” The woman leaned closer. “Raisa loves sending a very expensive bill to Morgane.”

  Mom is going to kill me. Soon those thoughts became fleeting. Ruby followed her gesture towards two rge doors. Another person in a sharp cut vest joined them. This time, she led them inside, past a vibrant dance floor. A few still danced, but most ambled their way aimlessly around.

  “We still have a few regurs and ... “ She made a pause and gestured to Zoey.

  “It’s alright. Her mother is a chaos witch. She is at least aware.”

  “... a few creatures of the night. But nothing you need to concern. Here you are protected. None will bother.”

  “I don’t feel... like walking.” Zoey pulled Ruby towards the dance floor. “I am parched. Can we like... here a bit?”

  Ruby nodded her thanks to the woman while the other person darted to the bar.

  Zoey’s lips found a nice spot on Ruby’s neck. Her arms snaked around Ruby’s nape to gather a handful of those lustrous, dark red tresses. “Thank... you... Ruby.” Zoey’s fingers, her touch, they all demanded urgency. Ruby tried, the best she can, to ignore Zoey’s caressing and rubbing. But Ruby’s attention waned and wavered. Then her focus snapped. Zoey’s fingers moved slowly, parting Ruby’s lips.

  Ruby recognised, despite her unfamiliarity, they all screamed Zoey’s impending need. She needed privacy. With Zoey. Immediately.

  The person in sharp vest returned with a two gsses filled with cool liquid. Ruby took one of the gsses and coaxed Zoey to drink.

  “Drink.” Ruby uttered with all the calmness she could muster.

  Zoey’s throat bobbed. Her eyelids drooped. And her lips widened. “I am burning. I don’t....” Zoey paused. She took her time. Then her attention returned considering Ruby with an unfocussed gaze. “... why?... but I am feeling... hotter.”

  Ruby tried. Hard. To keep her attention. To focus. On her thoughts. On her actions. But Zoey’s kisses... her breathing... they all came, invading Ruby’s senses. But she needed her concentration. For Zoey. Because... because...

  Because Zoey’s hands… they moved faster. More urgent. Ruby could sense her desperation. Her desire. Her longing. That signalled Zoey’s needed privacy. Ruby ushered Zoey while following where the employee led them.

  She ignored the subtle warning of someone familiar. Those were distractions she could not afford.

  Once inside, Zoey slumped on the couch, a rich red leather the colour of which matched the heavily flustered expression on her cheeks. A golden frame adorned the edges, which she gripped with trembling fingers.

  “You just try to rex here. Just get with it. I will be right outside.”

  Ruby tried to extract herself from Zoey’s grasp but found the hold tighten.

  “No... Please... touch me.”

  Her voice came soft, a murmur over thick honey. Yet her plea reverberated.

  “I...” Ruby’s fingers found their familiar perch between her brows. “I can’t. I don’t know.”

  Zoey’s grasp loosened further. Her eyelids drooped, covering her unfocused gaze. Only her ragged breathing came, uneven and boured. And her cheeks flushed deeper.

  “Lie down, let’s get you all comfortable, shall we?” Ruby lifted Zoey’s head and cradled them in her p.

  Zoey shuddered, nodding ever subtly. Her movements were light and ever willing.

  “I… feeling hot... everywhere. Please. Touch me.” Zoey’s palms moved, ruffling through the three yers of fabric to cup her breasts.

  The flushed girl’s skin shimmered. Her chest heaved, almost infted. Her breasts, full, pert, strained against her bra and top. Her nipples stiffened. But they also screamed. Ached. Throbbed. For relief. From their prison. From their pain. From their pleasure.

  Zoey’s palms cupped her breasts, massaging, kneading. “Here. Please... touch me. Please...”

  Ruby’s gaze flickered. Softly, ever subtly. Her tongue licked her lips. Wetting. Zoey’s pleas and her writhing movements filled the small space with a heady haze. She should walk away. While her sanity still reigned. But her p offered comfort to Zoey. Tossing her and leaving was inappropriate. Not when Zoey’s mind was consumed.

  Ruby reached with her palms. Fingers spread, lightly touching. Tracing and sensing. Zoey’s skin, her softness, her firm, her pert... they all sent sensations. Zoey’s pleasure. Her need. They all coiled and condensing within her.

  Ruby caressed, gently. Slow. And caring. In response, Zoey arched, gyrating her pelvis. Her fingers, eager, desperate and frantic, undid her jeans. The act sent unspoken invitations for all sorts of exploration. But Ruby’s hands remained on Zoey’s nipples.

  Zoey huffed with one slow, drawn-out moan. But her hips remained restless, waiting for Ruby’s touch. The sight incited thoughts that were demanding and urgent. They all drifted towards Zoey’s parted lips, and the wet aching spot on her panties. Towards the pressure on her clit that waited solely for Ruby to relieve.

  “Please. Ruby... I need your fingers... down... inside me.” Zoey spoke through spasms, wrecking her frame. “Don’t tease me.” Her voice came thick and smooth like velvet rubbing on silk.

  “I can’t. Zoey, you are affected. It is not you talking. You are not thinking straight.”

  “There is nothing straight about what we are doing.” Zoey replied with another deep moan. Her chest heaved, rising and falling. “I am all wet... everywhere. And you are not doing anything.”

  Zoey pulled her jeans further down, exposing her thigh. Then she pushed Ruby’s palms lower, between her thighs. Ruby met the wetness from Zoey’s panties. It seeped. A soft, supple, spongy spot. Then Ruby pressed, applying subtle pressure. Not much. Just gentle. But Zoey’s entire body responded. Her body arched. Her legs trembled, squeezing Ruby’s hand. And she whimpered, moaning.

  “Ruby. Harder. Please. Faster. Please. My clit. Oh. Oh. Oh. Go... Ruby... I am...”

  Zoey’s hands roamed. They took Ruby’s other palm. She raised it further toward her parted lips, and Ruby felt the wetness and the softness of Zoey’s lips. The sensation of hot pink and wet tongue dancing on the ridge of her fingers, the soft and plump lips capturing her digits, those sensations filled her. Impossible to deny Zoey anymore.

  Ruby’s finger pressed, connecting to Zoey through her panties. Zoey thrashed and bucked, meeting each caress. Her unduting movements came fast. Then Ruby’s fingers moved. Slowly, ever slowly, they slid through her panties. Ruby reached deeper. Inside. Where she could touch Zoey’s wetness, her moistness, her warmth directly. And her fingers lingered. Sensing each grooves through her fingers.

  Zoey’s moans came. Unstoppable. Unabated. Deep within her throat. But her clit demanded. Ruby complied, pressing directly on her blood-engorged pearl. Zoey’s breathing, her soft, muffled moans, they all filled her senses.

  “You feel amazing, Zoey.” Ruby uttered. Soft. Not above whispers. “You are gorgeous, you know.”

  Zoey’s eyelids shot. Her dark gaze, deep unfocused pools, bore holes through Ruby, absorbing, consuming everything. Her lips widened. Her chest heaved. And her hips remained restless.

  “Please kiss me...” Zoey’s voice came between breaths, each den, dripping with desire. Her words ended with pleading. A begging. For relief. For release. But it also offered. For sharing. For giving. And taking. “... I need you...”

  Ruby bent, closing the gap. Her lips found their perch. On Zoey’s. Their lips touched. Then pressed and parted. Ruby darted her tongue, pushing forward, seeking and exploring. All the while, her fingers worked desperately on Zoey’s twitching clit.

  Zoey’s moans… they came, loud and muffled.

  Ruby’s attention snapped when Zoey, lost in her body’s trembling, with spasms racing through her muscles, tightly tensed. Then her thighs closed, trapping Ruby’s fingers. Her body stilled. Except her chest. That continued, heaving. Rising and falling. Defting. Slow. Exhausted. Sated.

  Ruby waited. Zoey’s pleasure sted. Ebbing. Flowing. Waning. Eventually, Ruby extracted her palm. Slow. Carefully. Zoey’s pleasure trickled, dripping, sliding between her fingers. Her pleasure ebbed. Slowly, they subsided. Ruby pced her palm beneath Zoey’s nape, supporting her.

  “Good girl.” Ruby patted Zoey’s head. “You did great.”

  Zoey’s eyelids fluttered to Ruby. Her expression wore her soft features. Her cheeks carried her flush. And her gaze was half lidded, drooping. But her irises, her pupils, her deep pools — they stared, unflinching. They focused only on Ruby. Her entire body remained exhausted and tensed. Her muscles twitched. All except her hands. Those found their perch, resting gently, cupping her cheeks. So soft and eager.

  “You are beautiful, Ruby.” Zoey murmured. Her voice was soft and muffled. “And... I may add...” She paused, catching her breath. “...very attentive and gentle.”

  “What?”

  Then the noise of shuffling from outside intruded. Twice. Heavy steps and thuds. Ruby straightened her posture, pulling her attention to the outside.

  Uncle Craven barged in.

  “What the...” He tilted his head up, nose raise in the air and sniffled. Then he covered his nose as though his senses were overwhelmed. They probably were.

  Ruby’s hands protectively held Zoey closer. “Hold tight.” She whispered in Zoey’s ears.

  “Lord Enders, this is unacceptable.” The person in the vest followed.

  A very heavy arm fell on Craven’s shoulders, scrunching his leather jacket. One of the bulldog faced escort stood behind, arresting his movement.

  The low rumbling growl of Uncle Craven delivered a host of all things dreadful and terrifying. A deep darkness settled. His lips curled, revealing his teeth. They were fangs, sharp and gleaming. “Lapdogs and free wolves may belong to the same css, but they are never the same.”

  “Lord Enders, this is the ground of the High Priestess.” The person with the vest spoke through gritted teeth. Each word came slow, measured and careful.

  Uncle Craven issued a growl, low and bone chilling, like he took all the terror of the night and multiple them by a factor. Ruby sensed rather than saw as his attention flicker. Ruby recognised his shift, however fleeting it may be. She had spent enough time with the family Enders to consider them her own.

  Whatever might come next, Ruby had the presence of mind to not linger. She needed to leave. With Zoey. Immediately.

  “I am taking her home.” Ruby shifted with Zoey safely snuggled in her arms. But Craven’s strong arm blocked. His stance was unrelenting as was the sudden golden glimmer in his eyes.

  Ruby wished she had Mom’s kiss. The power they gave her. The ability to erect barrier and veiled paths to navigate through perils. The same skill that allowed her to rescue the boys in the field. Yet deep down, she knew her current circumstances. Those were Mom’s abilities. Borrowed, they were not inherently hers. Those lent powers would serve her well when facings the sons but against the one who sired them, they would fail. Ruby need more. Something that was hers, rightfully. Her Aspect could tilt the tables in her favour.

  When Uncle Craven lowered to face, Ruby darted past. She twisted and weaved through the narrow gap while cradling a very terrified Zoey. Behind her, the sounds of heavy thuds, of knocking and breaking bones followed, but Ruby dared not to turn. Her eyes were on Zoey, and the fear-filled expression roaming on her face.

  “It will be alright. I promise.” Ruby uttered, keeping her voice calm.

  Then Craven pounced, an inhuman leap. He nded in front of the exit, blocking Ruby’s path to safety.

  His predatory gaze narrowed on Ruby. “Stop and answer me.” The words came low, like the rumble from the belly of a beast awoken. Then it shifted, turning deeper, visceral... and animalistic.

  Zoey screamed, loud enough to burst ear-drums. Then she pushed further towards Ruby, burying her cheeks against her neck. Her limbs wrapped, seeking comfort.

  Ruby’s determination hardened. Zoey’s safety came first. Whatever may come next, she needed her Aspect.

  But her Aspect, it y dormant. Beyond her reach.

  NO! Not any more.

  Ruby called. Demanded. Insisted.

  Come. Her words reverberated within her, filling her. I need your help.

  Nothing happened.

  Then everything changed.

  Uncle Craven lurched. Ruby fell, within herself. A deep recess where only an undisturbed pool remained. But for Ruby they were as real as Uncle Craven before her and as tangible as Zoey in her arms. Then a drop of her tears fell. The surface consumed it. Ripples spread in response. They unduted becoming wider and the waves surged.

  Ruby reached. Deeper, further. Through them all. To touch. And to accept everything.

  A path, created solely within her and for her, opened. Ruby sought. When she called, her barrier rose.

  Uncle Craven crashed and fell. The sounds of cracking, of bone shifting and mending followed. When Craven rose, his expressions were veiled with a victorious glint.

  “A witch. Apotropaic magic. You are a warden.” His words, spoken softly, belied his feral demeanour. “This would be challenging but only by a small measure.”

  Then his gaze raked her. Golden, they glinted. When he extended his arm, the muscles and bones shifted all wrong. They coiled and twisted like serpents struggling to get out. The cracking sound reverberated. His cws grew to lethal forms, ready to shred metal and steel.

  Ruby clutched Zoey closer. Her expression hardened at the partial transformation.

  Craven lurched again.

  But Ruby’s shield held for a narrow heartbeat. Then he crashed through her feeble attempts. Ruby braced herself, holding Zoey tighter.

  Craven’s fingers, his cws, his talons, all gleamed, inches above her skin. Above Zoey.

  Ruby’s arms tensed. Her entire body stiffened. But his touch never came. Not against her skin. Not against Zoey. She watched the reflection beyond in Zoey’s wide-open eyes. Patterns trailed behind her, originating from her back. Gossamer thin, and barely perceptible, but they were there. Like dew drops and frost collected on a spider web. And they slowly fluttered. They were beautiful wings that she may never know except through Zoey.

  “This power doesn’t belong to a witch.” Craven stopped and pulled back. “I knew it.” He bellowed a roar that made many cower on the ground. “Come. With me.” His tone brokered no further arguments. Or defiance. “I will take you where you really belong.”

  Then he stood. His gaze never flickered, never wavered. His jaw hardened. And his body loomed, rger than his already rge form. Darker. And infinitely deeper. And scarier.

  Ruby pulled Zoey’s closer. Despite holding her for a while, Ruby struggled with no pain. Not even a aching. Zoey weighed light like a very treasured petal, a pyful kitten seeking soce in her arms. Then Ruby spun aided by whatever invisible, ethereal and intangible extension that she grew. It brought her outside of Craven’s range, and faster than he could react. She sped through, dashing along the foyer to outside.

  Only when she stumbled to catch her breath for a moment did she realise her predicament.

  Where should she run now?

  Craven’s rumbling growl followed. Neither her attempts nor Raisa’s employed escorts managed to stop him. His footsteps thundered. Each fall announced his unerring approach. The force of his steps cracked cemented tiles. His wake left leaching cracks behind.

  Only one person came close; her stride confident, her presence imposing. Mom. Morgane Spenard may carry herself all proper, always dignified and intimidating, she would brush any threat away. Ruby craved that Mom would arrive. Any moment, her rose-gold Bentley would slide past, and Morgane Spenard in all her imperviousness would step out. She would stop Uncle Craven with a single word of command.

  “Hey... you... Come on Dude.” Instead Cybele shouted from the other side. She stepped out of the darkness. “This is too stereotype. Middle-aged dude, chasing two teenage girls out of a club... Seriously. Learn to take no for an answer.”

  Such paltry attempts may have earned Cybele her victory, but Craven was made of different things. His attention remained on Ruby. Only his ears perked, and his lips moved.

  “She is not what she appears. Leave. This does not concern you.”

  “Alright. Look at it this way. These two fine young dies, they could be your daughters. I mean, I am not saying this because they are my friends but I mean, from where I see, you look every bit the creepy pervy guy here.”

  Craven howled a blood-churning sound. The inhuman noise possessed the ability to strip willpower, leaving victim a shallow and hapless husk.

  And Cybele ughed. Not a melodious giggle. Those did not belong to Cybele. Hers was the snort wrestling with ughter. Then she emptied the contents of her duffel bag. Nuts, screws, levers, cogs, and metal frames spilled along with electronic circuits. The contents shifted. Their shape, the form and proportions, they all changed. Metal fumed, releasing vapour. Screws melted, joining while nuts and bolts sank inside. Electronic circuits fused, forming new connections. And metal frames expanded. Then everything coalesced and shifted. And finally, they all solidified.

  They transformed, representing everything wrong about Cybele. They became a stick figure wielding a dle, one that was barely tall enough to reach Ruby’s waist.

  For the first time, there was amusement in Uncle Craven’s voice. He even carried his undisguised befuddlement when the Cybele’s toy soldier leapt and spped him on the head with the dle.

  Uncle Craven stared. His expression wore disbelief.

  Two more sps followed.

  When his thoughts cleared, his growl returned. This time, they all heard him. Deep, low rumble, they resonated, announcing his rage. “That’s it.” His words came through gritted teeth, while he released his anger at controlled measure. His palms swiped in a fsh and whacked the toy to shatter.

  “What the fuck is that? A pathetic excuse from golem mancer? Or a very poor failed artificer project?” Craven casually dismissed Cybele.

  “What it is, is a work in progress.” Cybele answered, unfettered and taunting. The fact that her treasured contents of a project y in a heap, reduced to a common junk, least bothered her.

  “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.” Craven uttered to no one in particur. “And scrap to scrap.”

  The heap shifted and melted, forming the toy soldier with dle again.

  “And self re-organising to self re-organising.” Cybele added. “Pretty nifty spell to include, if I may add. You could thrash it a thousand time and self re-organisation is OP.”

  Craven approached. This time, his rage unleashed itself. His limbs elongated. His muscles twisted, coiling and growing rger.

  Cybele’s toy soldier, struck. But Craven’s swipe, it came faster than Ruby’s vision could track. The sounds, they reverberated through the quiet, dark night. Cybele’s toy became scrap that littered and also reformed.

  “Oh. You shouldn’t.” Cybele addressed him like an everyday inconvenience. “Think about it dude. You attacked three witches outside the grounds of the High Priestess. Whoever you are, you better have a compelling expnation. Take you time. Cool you head and come back another time, if you have an issue with any of us.”

  Craven sniffed, taking one deep whiff of Ruby.

  “If you feel slighted, then there are ways to put your petition.” Cybele continued, sounding surprisingly mature and reasonable. “Whatever the reasons, hurting three young witches outside the sanctuary of the High Priestess... if word gets out, which it will, every coven will be hunting you.”

  Craven still moved forward, approaching Ruby. Cybele’s words fell like the tantrums of a petunt child who screamed her daddy can beat him.

  “If you have anyone you care, friends or family, you will back off. Imagine every coven with their hexes and spells... Some of them are not very keen on where their spells inflict. My own family prefers more friendlier terms with the dead than the living.”

  That made Craven pause. Not the mention of dead but the friends and family.

  “Fair enough.” He said those words with the tremendous effort of someone forced to confess under a torturer’s bde.

  When Craven moved a wide distance away, Cybele approach Ruby.

  “Damn Meisje. That felt awesome and scary. Dude was on a different level, like I threatened THE Craven Enders himself.”

  Ruby couldn’t bring herself to disagree with Cybele.

  Cybele’s eye fell on Ruby, the way she held Zoey and the still slick wetness coating Ruby’s fingers.

  “Meisje, that is some development.” The way her eyebrows wiggled made Ruby stumble a few steps back. “I mean, I saw you all flustered yesterday, after your initiation ceremony.” The grin pstered on Cybele’s face invited irateness. “So the mother helped you yesterday and now you ogled the daughter as a return favour. I would say this whole transition is working well for you.”

  That drained the colours from Ruby. She turned sharp and angry.

  “You know Cybele. For a moment, I was gd to you see jump to my defence. After the morning talk, I thought we had build a retionship. But no. You are still the asshole that you were. Go fuck yourself.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Ruby muffled her frustration because Cybele said it with the same attitude of one refusing an offered seat in public transport. No remorse what so ever.

  Announcement In a week's time I would be starting regur updates with Her Guardian Bride from Stars. - A sapphic travel fantasy across an alien pnet - There will be enough action for those who want bloodletting- Plus cute adorable moments for those crave them.- As per my usual release schedule, will be on tuesdays and FridaysElenaV