Unliving Lust Ch. 01

"I'm telling you, there is no such thing as a horny undead. Period."

Larya turned to her companion, a scruffy man wearing patchy leather armor, and glared. "You've just got no imaginative spirit!"

"And this world's got no sexed spirit. Spirits." The man rolled his eyes. He sat back against a gnarled old oak tree and began sharpening the blade of his notched silver scythe.

Larya, a dark-haired young woman with bright green eyes to match her plain green skirt—eyes typical only for fey and some especially attuned druids—turned away, swishing her brown cape as she beheld the ancient oak copse they were resting in. "I just don't get you, Snatch."

"Good."

She gave a wide smile, eyes closing. "The entire natural world is so alluring! It's a place of unspeakable majesty and...and...exquisiteness..."

She trailed off, taking a deep breath. Don't talk so much about the natural world, she chided herself. Snatch already thinks you're too...excited about nature. Don't need a repeat of my Druidess Ascension Ceremony!

She opened her eyes, turning back with an innocent grin. Snatch was scowling at his whetstone. "And naturally, you see the natural world's prettiness and think undead want to fuck it?"

Larya took another deep breath, trying to keep control, then widened her grin. "The abominations want to be like us just as they want to corrupt us. They envy our life and want us to be no better than they. How better than to take us in the most sacred act?"

He stared at her blankly. "You want to get raped by a rotting corpse?"

"What? Ew!" Larya recoiled. "No! It's just a theory."

"Good." Snatch went back to sharpening his scythe.

They were silent for a moment.

"Besides," Larya muttered, pouting, "if I did want to get ravished by a ghost or something, of course I wouldn't want it to be rotting. Maybe a vampire."

"And then it'd kill you."

"Well..." Larya gave a sheepish shrug. "Fantasies never really go past the pleasure moment. The way I always imagine it, they fuck me so much first I don't even care anymore. Then they make me like them so I can continue the..." She realized Snatch was staring at her. "...uh, cycle."

"...right." Snatch got to his feet, strapping the scythe to his back. "This is officially the last time I take a job with you."

"Aw!" She giggled. "You don't mean that!"

"I do. I'm fucking sick of your creepy-as-dragonshit attitude."

"That's what you said last week after we fought that kelpie."

"'We'?" Snatch shot a glare at Larya. "You spent the whole fight getting fucked! You spent every fight getting fucked!"

Larya stuck out her lower lip. "I didn't when we fought the ogre. Or when we fought the zombies. Or with that golem. Just, y'know..." She blushed, remembering, "...when our enemies make me hot."

"There was that night we got ambushed by bandits and you wouldn't take out the toy before charging in."

"That one wasn't my fault." Larya scratched her head. "I mean, none of those are! I was being mind-controlled every time! The bandits had that, uh..." She bit her lip. "...the...the, uh...sorceress..."

She tried to keep focus, but failed this time. She could tell her eyes were glazing over. She licked her lips, remembering how smooth the sorceress's breasts had looked—

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

Larya started. Snatch was snapping his fingers in front of her face, eyes narrowed. "Exactly what I'm talking about. You've got no willpower. Pain in the ass to manage."

Returning to reality, Larya crossed her arms. "You want to talk pain in the ass? How about that demon summoner we went up against yesterday? You know, the guy with all those succubi you made me fight alone? The ones with the tails that they kept—"

"Fine." Snatch threw up his arms in defeat. "You drop it now and we'll let it slide."

"Fine."

"Good." Snatch sat back down. "Anyways, the undead attacking the town up ahead are supposed to be ghouls, not vampires or ghosts. Unless you meet a friendly traveling whore on the way over there, neither of us are getting fucked tonight."

"Ohhh..." Vala writhed. "Oh, yessssss..."

She hung upside down, arms and legs secured—and spread wide—by tightly-knotted ropes. A few minutes ago, this situation had bothered her, but now she couldn't remember why. She moaned louder as the mouth teasing her right nipple moved to the left.

A brass clasp lay nearby. It depicted a raging bonfire. The one to wear this would be identified as a Spirit Ranger—an enemy of undead, daemons, and other rogue souls. Now it lay abandoned, along with the cloak it was attached to, a yellow tunic, and a pair of brown trousers.

She stared at the clasp, shuddering, then looked over to the nearby door. The doorknob was dented, but intact. She had previously tried to smash it, though she no longer knew why. To leave? Why would she do that?

Having exhausted all other possibilities Vala's limited mobility afforded, she returned her gaze to the bouncing breasts in front of her. They belonged to the gorgeous woman now licking Vala's breasts. She looked down (or up), seeing the solid, glowing red eyes, seeing the sharp teeth and red lips working hungrily against yielding flesh, hearing the growl of hunger from within the scarlet-haired beauty...

It was too much. She shut her eyes, giving a scream of ecstasy as she exploded. She spasmed, longing to thrash and buck, but the bindings were too secure. It felt like her loins were on fire, and the only thing that could make them burn hotter—and she needed them to burn hotter, oh, so badly—was a sucking mouth on her dripping pussy lips.

The three women stood around their struggling upside-down captive. One had pale blonde hair and dark crimson lips. The second had pitch-black hair and pure white lips. The third—the one pleasuring the Spirit Ranger—had flaming red hair and bright red lips. All their eyes were solid red orbs.

They were not human.

The blonde smiled, taking Vala's right hand and gently untying it. She held it firm nonetheless, her other arm slipping up to the woman's crotch and gently stroking. She let out a hiss. The black-haired woman took Vala's other arm, giving another hiss, and used her free hand to grasp Vala in a passionate kiss reeking of carrion.

Not that the now sex-crazed ranger would be able to smell it.

Once their taint had suffused Vala completely, the woman would be completely numb in all but one area.

The blonde laughed again as Vala began to rise to another orgasm. This town had proven fruitful indeed. Now that the one threat had been neutralized...

The ghouls hissed triumphantly. Their sharklike teeth sank into Vala's trembling flesh, yielding only another scream of joy.

It was time to begin the feast.

Shadow lay amid the buildings of Carriope like a parasite that could not be expunged. It clung beneath the eaves, crawled in the gutters, slithered over the dirt road that Snatch and Larya now walked.

"Right." Snatch gripped his scythe tightly. "So we find the ghouls, kill them, and get the money. No sidetracks this time. I ain't leaving with innocent blood on our hands."

"I know that." Larya grimaced, getting out her scimitar. "I'm weak-willed, not stupid. "

"We can't afford any slip-ups." Snatch spat to the side. "These ghouls are set to kill everyone here if we don't track them down. We'll have another Redhallow on our hands."

"I won't slip up. Promise!" Larya held up her hands and gave an innocent grin.

"Good." Snatch looked around the town. The place seemed deserted, and in the dark of the moonless night, it was hard to see the route they'd entered by. Almost every house's windows were boarded up. "Looks like we're running a bit late. We'd better split up."

"What?" She stared at Snatch. "Are you crazy?"

"It's a big town. You see trouble..." Snatch reached into his pocket and pulled out a little ivory whistle. "Blow that. I'll hear."

She took the whistle and put the cord over her head, rolling her eyes. "It's still a crazy idea. Splitting up near undead? When has that ever ended well?"

Snatch was already walking away to a nearby building. Larya scowled and turned away.

"Psst!"

She spun. To her left, hiding behind a barrel, was a woman about Larya's age. The woman had pale hair—almost pure white—and luscious, dark red lips. Her eyes were cast in shadow.

Larya stared. The woman beckoned frantically.

Larya turned back. Snatch was examining a door, grumbling something. Scratching her head, she turned back and approached the strange lady. "What is it?" she whispered. Unconsciously, she was thrusting out her chest a little. The other woman was very attractive, with large, perky breasts and a form-fitting black dress.

The woman beckoned again, then turned and ran.

Larya hesitated.

She ran after.

Snatch finished picking the lock and opened the door. Inside it was dark—the windows were boarded from the inside as well as the outside. The minimal light from the starry sky above poured into the room, revealing a small living room.

According to Snatch's map, this was the mayor's house.

He took out a torch and, holding it under his arm, got out a flint and steel. It took him a minute or so to get the torch lit.

The change was drastic. Now he could see writing on the walls.

Writing in blood.

He approached and gave it a sniff. No, it was just red ink. Still, the words were ominous.

If you are reading this I know you are who I sent for. You may be too late. Ghouls have taken me. The taint is within me but I won't stay to corropt my child. It is inside me now, I didn't know. Poor Vala tried to fite, but too many. She killed most of us—but we were tainted already. She did what had to do an I will burn rathr than hurt her goodluck

Snatch gritted his teeth.

They were too late. Way too late.

From the stairs he smelled something familiar: burning flesh. The mayor had at least managed to save others from his plague.

He made his way up the stairs. The charred remains of Mayor Belro—known to most as a kindly but submissive old man—lay at the foot of the bed. The entire room was drenched in water, as if Belro had wished to prevent the fire from spreading even as he prepared to die.

Snatch frowned. That was strange.

He closed his eyes, thinking. Why would the mayor want to keep his house intact? Was it just simple vanity? Did he want to preserve the message? He had risked being too late to immolate himself—not to mention being caught by the ghouls—to get water from the town's well for this. Why?

Out of nowhere, Snatch heard a little cough. Just a little one. Barely more than a sigh. But it was there.

He spun, brandishing his scythe. There was nobody in the bedroom. Just a bed, a desk, and...a closet door.

Snatch prided himself on his instincts as well as his perceptiveness. Eyes narrowing to slits, he slowly approached the door. He grasped the doorknob silently and swung the door open.

He was silent for a long time as he beheld what lay within.

"Huh." Snatch slowly lowered the scythe. "Well, ain't that something?"