Samhain Night

Author’s Note: Just a quick tale I wrote for Halloween.

Night of the Witch

A ring of turnips surrounded the isolated hut. From within the grotesque faces carved on them, flames flickered in strange patterns upon the darkness of the forest. Out amid the trees that groaned, the haunting cries of the dead echoed. Standing before her hut in the middle of a ring of stones and the jack-o-lanterns, Ravyn narrowed her eyes out to the surrounding woods. In one hand she held a candle, the wax dribbling down the sides, until it stung her fingers. Even then she didn’t move, but watched.

Above the last vestiges of day faded into night. The dark blue finally giving way to the black sky glittering with thousands of stars, while the moon started its ascent. A crescent with a faint glow that bathed the thatch roof of Ravyn’s home, as well as the gardens and grass within the circle of turnips and stones painted with ancient wards. The soft light though could not pierce the forest’s canopy, leaving it engulfed in thick shadow.

Even still figures moved within, scarcely seen. They seemed as shadows even within the shadows. Ravyn took a long breath and reached across herself to run fingertips across the hilt of her sword. The rounded pommel etched with tiny runes was comforting as she waited to see the dead test her wards and the repelling power of the jack-o-lanterns. As she did every Samhain.

A dead man stepped out from the woodline. He carried the stench of decay with him, though even the light of the jack-o-lanterns and the moonlight could not dispel the pitch black of his form. It hid any true details, save the silver eyes that stared across the line of carved turnips and planted stones.

“Be gone draugr. This is no longer your realm to walk,” Ravyn said, and let her fingers curl around the hilt of her sword. She stared down the dead thing standing but five paces from her.

The draugr hissed, a faint movement the only show its mouth was opened. Thick smoke poured out, curling around its head. Slowly the creature turned to shamble back out into the woods. For a moment Ravyn watched it walk away. Only visible as the pit of life it had become in death. And tonight the veil between the realms was weak. That which had no right to be upon the world anymore broke back into the realm of the living through its hatred and bitterness.

But the draugr were the least of all spirits that could be out tonight.

Letting out a low breath, Ravyn relaxed her grip on her sword and turned back towards her hut. More jack-o-lanterns were nestled carefully on her window sills. They glared at her with their macabre sneers as she pushed open her door and stepped within the dim light of her home.

A cozy fire in the hearth kept the autumn chill at bay, while the soft snap and crackle of the burning wood gave a calming distraction from the haunting cries from outside. Its light wavered across the single room of Ravyn’s home as she walked to the small table in the centre of the hut. A small mouse sat upon its surface beside a brass candle holder. The tiny creature nibbled at some of the crumbs from Ravyn’s dinner, turning the little piece of bread over and over in its paws as it ate.

The mouse didn’t even pause as Ravyn slid the candle into the brass holder. She looked down at the creature, before gently stroking the top of its head. The mouse let out a tiny squeak and went back to rolling over the crumb and nibbling as Ravyn walked over to her bed. Broad, meant for partners. Though it was far too rare any came out here.

Walking past her bookshelf of collected tomes, and a few of her own grimoires, Ravyn scraped dried wax off her finger. The little chips of it fell off her skin and pattered on the floor, the near silent sound lost amid the wails from outside.

Unstrapping her belt with the lace sarong that hung off her hips, Ravyn sighed as the weight of her sword came free as well. Carefully she laid it on the side of the bed, sword and its dark leather scabbard capped with silver that swirled upwards in twisted vines laying on top. Outside the dead continued to cry out, lost amid the woods, seeking anyone to join their damnation. Ravyn doubted she’d sleep tonight, even as she pulled the lace shawl from her shoulders and draped it at the foot of the bed.

Crawling atop her plush bed, the skin tight black leather of her pants sliding across the thick quilt, she rolled over and sighed. Didn’t even bother to take off her riding boots, the tall heels pressed against the foot board. For a moment she just stared at the beams of her ceiling, and breathed deep to calm herself. She inhaled the wonderful smell of burning wood, while her breasts pressed against the leather of her corset as she took in another slow breath.

Black hair sprawled across her soft pillows she focused on her breathing. Outside the dead and other spirits continued their clamour in the dark. The sounds sinking into Ravyn’s calm, and she didn’t dare shut them out entirely. If any wards failed, if any spirits slipped past the jack-o-lanterns, she needed to be ready.

Then she heard the pitch change outside. Hunger, malice. A frenzy of damned souls singing out a cacophony. Ravyn shot up in bed and pulled her shawl back on. She stared at the shuttered window as she picked up her belt with its sarong, and pulled it back on. The weight of the sword, and the pouches of dried herbs, comforting once more.

After a moment the chaos died down, but something didn’t feel right.

Then a man’s voice called out to her from her yard. A voice she recognized.

“Ravyn. Ravyn are you in there,” he shouted, the voice getting louder as he got closer to the hut, and the witch sighed.

One hand gripping the hilt of her sword, she walked to her door and pushed it open. Just a few steps away stood a man she not only didn’t expect to see, but certainly didn’t want to. Antoine; one of the village’s carpenters, and also the man who married the woman she loved. Had made that woman love him in turn. Taken her from Ravyn’s arms, and left her alone out here in the woods.

“Here to finally kill me Antoine?” the witch asked, looking at the axe in Antoine’s hand. Black blood dripped from the blade, even as he stared at her from behind long bangs of dishevelled hair. There was fear in his eyes, jack-o-lanterns hanging from his belt. The candle in one extinguished while the other flickered still.

“I come to beg of you. For your help,” he said and fell to his knees. The axe hit the ground with a thump as he clutched his hands together. He stared up at her, his hands lifted before his face as he shambled forward on his knees.

“Marion made her choice. Neither of you have darkened my doorstep for many years, and I am made pariah by those I protect for my craft and my rejected love. Why should I help you?” Ravyn demanded as Antoine came closer. She could see the tears now that cut grooves in the blood of the damned spattered on his face.

“Please. Please, something has taken her. It’s… inside her,” Antoine said, clutching at Ravyn’s boots. Muddy and blood slick fingers slid over the black leather, his lips coming close to it. The man reeked of desperation. Ravyn pulled her foot away, frowning down at him as he fell onto his face.

“I’ve seen your home. You have ignored my warnings, refused my wards, and only now do I see jack-o-lanterns in your possession. Why should I help you, when you and Marion have done all you can to cut me out. Even your priest has listened to me,” Ravyn said, tempted to pull her sword free. “Why not go to your church. Ask them for help?”

For a moment Antoine sobbed into the dirt. His shoulder wracked with the cries that tore from him. He spoke, but whatever words he said were lost amid the sobs, and heaving gasps for air. He reached out again, fingertips once again clawing at her boots. Streaks of blood and mud dragged across the leather. This time Ravyn didn’t pull away, as pity began to worm through her bitterness and hate. Eventually Antoine looked up at her.

“You know. You know that the church is more concerned about killing the demon within. The life of the possessed is secondary, and that’s for a kind exorcist,” Antoine said, and Ravyn sighed. Of course he was right. And she had no desire to have exorcists and witch hunters running about these woods in some misguided crusade against darkness.

They all pretended to understand it, but they didn’t. There was no pity in their light.

Then Antoine spoke again.

“I… know you still care for her. And she for you. Please. Help us.”

His words cut at Ravyn’s heart. Opening old wounds she thought were nothing but scars now. She almost kicked him, screamed at him, but knew he was right all the same. At least, when it came to herself. She closed her eyes, the hungry moans of the dead and the damned filling her ears, mixing with the wet sniffling of the man at her feet. For him to rush all the way out here on Samhain, he must have been incredibly desperate. To come to her.

A sigh spilled out from her lips and she rubbed at her face a moment.

“Very well. Let me grab what I need. And light that other damn jack-o-lantern,” she said and pulled her foot away again. She turned to head back into her home, not bothering with the door even as she wondered why she even agreed to this. On top of helping people who had hurt her, cut her out, she had to get to their home.

Through the woods, currently crawling with all manner of spirits.

Going to her shelf, Ravyn ran her fingers along the spines of a few tomes she’d collected. From the table she heard the mouse squeak again. Ravyn smirked as she found the book she was looking for.

“I know. I know. It’s a dumb idea,” she said without bothering to look at the little creature on her table. Instead her eyes were locked upon the dark red leather book she was pulling from the shelf while the mouse gave a little squeak in reponse. One of her own grimoires, stitched down the spine with gold thread. This had everything she’d need on spirits and possessions.

Finding her satchel, with small little bone charms tied to the straps and filled with everything she needed for a ritual, Ravyn slipped her grimoire inside and stepped back out into the night. Antoine was were she’d left him, but now sitting on his knees. He looked up at her with a pleading gaze. She sighed, and clapped her hands.

“Light that other jack-o-lantern. We might not have much time,” Ravyn said, as she collected some of her own to hang off her belt from her window sill. She spent a few moments making sure the knots were good. Much as time was indeed of the essence, she had no intention of getting killed out in the woods. Or pulled into that strange realm of damnation the draugr dwelt within.

Antoine finally got to his feet, and used the candles within one of Ravyn’s carved turnips to light his own. He let out a shuddering sigh as he collected his axe again and turned to look at the witch. She glared back at him with years of built up hatred.

“We go slow. If we rush, we risk putting out the candles. Then, Marion doesn’t get her body back,” Ravyn said walking to the edge of her property. She stopped just before the stoned painted with the old wards. With a slow breath she drew her sword. Behind her Antoine stood with both hands gripping his wood axe, a few sniffles still coming from him. Ravyn though stared out into the darkness of the woods, seeing the shapes shuffling about.

This was a foolish idea.

She stepped out from the circle and immediately felt the chill press in on her. The jack-o-lanterns hanging from her belt flickered, and the whispers of the dead pressed in on her. Unintelligible, but full of confusion and rage. These were the ones who never properly crossed. Locked between realms and damned to wander. Among them were worse things. Spirits from beyond that had no love for humanity.

One foot in front of the other, Ravyn started forward, following the footpath she and the few visitors she’d taken had worn through the forest. Around her draugr groaned and snarled. Their shadowy forms getting close to the path but never quite stepping close to Ravyn. She took another slow breath, praying to the Gods that the carved turnips continued to work their magic.

Behind she heard Antoine’s footsteps. His rapid breathing as fear clawed at him. She glanced back to see his wide eyes as he looked at the lost souls about him. It was a wonder he had even made it to her place. Luckily the village wasn’t too far. She had built her home just out of sight from it.

She was about to look forward again when a draugr stepped up to the side of the path. It almost hissed at Antoine, getting close to him, kept just at arms length by the jack-o-lanterns that flickered at his belt. Antoine stopped and gaped at the creature, his fingers flexing around the hilt of his axe.

“Antoine, ignore it. Keep moving,” Ravyn warned, twenty paces ahead of him, but the lumberjack shook his head. His lips peeled back in a snarl. “No!”

Ravyn’s shout didn’t stop him as he lifted his axe and crashed it hard into the chest of the draugr. Bone crunched, blood sprayed, and the thing screamed but it was far from slain. It lashed out in blind panic, and its forearm crashed into the side of Antoine’s head. The man stumbled to the side and fell face first onto the path. One of the turnips crushed beneath him, the light of the other snuffed out.

Darkness swept in around Antoine, and the forest itself seemed to screech. The black figures of the draugr emerged from between the trees. Bark flaked where they grasped the great trunks. Hissed growls spilled from them as they encroached upon Antoine who scrambled on his belly up the path. The man’s axe still lodged in a dead thing’s chest. It pulled it out with a spurt of blood and a scrape of steel against bone.

With a grip on the axe’s haft, the draugr raised its hand as Antoine pulled himself along. Pain throbbed in his head while he crawled to the approaching light.

The axe caught against Ravyn’s sword. The light of her jack-o-lanterns washed over the draugr and the others behind it. They shrieked, stopped their advance. The one before her though thrashed in panic. Desperate to claim the soul upon the ground, even as old magics drove into it, demanded it flee. Ravyn twisted her blade to the side, ripped the axe from the draugr’s fists. She heard it crash in the forest somewhere to the side as she hacked at the dead thing’s neck.

Bitter black blood spattered across her face and neck. She spat, and hacked again as her blade hit the creature’s spine. It grasped the edge of the sword and hissed at her. Blood ran along the sword’s fuller, and Ravyn tried to pull it free, but she was no true warrior. She grunted and only slide the steel through the damned flesh. She slammed her hand into the creature’s chest, felt the wound against her palm.

Ancient words flowed from Ravyn’s lips, while Antoine stopped at the edge of her circle of light. He curled up and whimpered, seeing the draugr surrounding them. They stared at him with unseen eyes, the lantern light failing to show any details.

Power swirled in the air around them, drawn from the forest and realms beyond. Flesh sizzled and crackled beneath Ravyn’s palm and the draugr shrieked out in agony. It fell to its knees, head thrown back as the flesh peeled back from its chest. The ribs beneath cracked and foul, bitter smoke poured out from the wound.

With a firm shove, Ravyn pushed it to the ground, where it lay still. Its blood frothed upon the ground as she stepped away, unsure if she’d put it down for good. One of the others twitched, and shoved its hand into the light. Her spell had weakened the power of the lanterns. Spindly fingers grasped Antoine’s hair and he tugged away with a scream. He grasped the creature’s arm as pain flared in his scalp. The draugr stumbled inwards, and Ravyn spun.

The edge of her blade caught on its elbow. Flesh burst open, bone snapped, and the arm came off with a spray of blood across the ground. The draugr fell past Antoine, who hurriedly pulled the fingers from his hair and tossed the severed limb away.

“Kill it,” he shouted as he sat up, but Ravyn just grabbed him by the tunic and tried to haul him to his feet. He was heavy though, and she grunted at the strain in her arm, while the man scarcely budged.

“No, just… get the fuck up,” she said, and glanced back at the fallen draugr. It was getting its remaining hand underneath it. Palm and bleeding stump against the dirt it started to push up. “Get the fuck up and lets go.”

Antoine pushed himself upwards, stared at the thing now on its knees. A faceless creature with a face the world had forgotten. A soul scrubbed bare in the beyond. It turned its head to them, its maw opened in a hiss. Antoine took a step towards it, but Ravyn firmly planted a hand on his chest.

“No. We need to go. If you keep fucking about, you will get us both killed,” she said firmly, while the draugr got its feet. Antoine watched it, almost entranced, and Ravyn regretted her choice intensely. She let out an annoyed growl and pushed past the man that had stolen her love.

The ring of her light moved with her, the other draugr letting out their shrieks as they stepped away. The light’s edge reached Antoine’s feet when he stepped back and turned to follow the witch. He shuddered as he felt those unholy eyes upon his back. Felt the thing’s rage and hunger seeping into his mind. A physical thing brought forth from beyond.

Antoine hurried then and caught up to Ravyn. His eyes snapped at all the things lurking in the dark. Some with less shape to them than the draugr. Formless beings that wanted to slither into his flesh. Take him into some unholy pit. It dragged his thoughts back to his wife, and he felt tears gather.

“Don’t slow. Keep pace,” Ravyn said, and she almost spat on the ground before they turned a corner. Ahead were the squat thatch roofed buildings of the village. The entire place was lit with more jack-o-lanterns, sending shadows dancing across the walls of homes and shops. The sign above the inn’s door creaked as it swayed in the wind, not a person to be seen wandering the streets. Above the buildings though, shadowy forms darted to and fro. Lost souls, spirits. Some malevolent, some merely desperate.

And one of them had found its way into Marion. Something that wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t trying so damned hard to distance herself from Ravyn.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she looked over her shoulder at Antoine. She could have beat him for what he did in the woods, much less what he did to her already. But she kept her hands and her blade to herself. She couldn’t give the local priest just what he needed to finally drive her away. Or worse, get a witch hunt going.

“Lead the way,” she said, gesturing towards the village, and for a moment Antoine just looked at her. Ravyn couldn’t imagine what was running through his skull at that moment. Much as she hated him, he couldn’t have a high opinion of her either.

When Antoine finally started walking, Ravyn kept close behind. Even in the village they needed the protective magic of the jack-o-lanterns. She kept her sword out, in case something of flesh had spilled over from the otherworld. A small trail of black blood pattered on the ground in her wake.

Antoine led them to a small little home. Single story, thatch roof, well made wooden walls. It looked like almost any other in the village. Unlike the others which had their jack-o-lanterns perched on sills and doorsteps, Antoine’s home was devoid. The others all had light glimmering through the cracks in their windows, but Antoine’s showed only a dim light. Ravyn frowned at that, even as Antoine stepped up to the front door.

He stood there a long moment, his hand stretched out but paused just inches from the doorknob. He stared at it, fear in his eyes along with something else. A look Ravyn was familiar with, just not one she wanted to see on Antoine.

It was lust.

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his face and his shaking hand. She didn’t like being out here; she felt exposed, open. Anything could come after them, and her magic wouldn’t be able to hold a desperate spirit at bay for too long. She carefully took the turnips off her belt and set one on a window sill, and held the other to place before the door.

“Are you going to go in?” she finally asked, and Antoine nodded, tongue flicking over his lips as he grasped the knob and twisted. There was a creak in the hinges as the door swung open and he stepped into his dimly lit home. He almost seemed swallowed by the shadows thrown about by a pair of lit candles sitting at the central table.

Ravyn glanced about the village, but there were no living eyes upon them. All were hiding from terrors that lurked the world on this night.

She set the jack-o-lantern down and stepped in after Antoine, closing the door behind her. For a moment there was just silence. Her own heart, and the patter of blood on the floor as it dripped from the tip of her blade. Slowly the black of the house turned to shades of gray, and she saw the outline of a woman sitting on the bed in the corner of the home.

“Marion?” Ravyn asked, and Antoine stiffened just a few paces before her.

Smokey laughter flowed through the home. Then a voice of honey laced venom spilled from Marion’s lips.

“Not quite. Though she is indeed here, watching, listening. But who are you my sweet?” the snap of a match and fire flared before the woman, bathing her soft features in sharp shadows. The match flickered before her, showing an alluring grin. “Ah. The one she shoved away thinking to find happiness, but instead only discovered self loathing in her love for another.”

Slowly her hand drifted to the side, the match catching the wick of a candle on a stool pulled beside the bed. The warm light basked over the possessed woman sitting with one leg draped over the other on the edge of the bed. Ravyn was surprised to see her naked save a pair of black thigh high lace stockings, and a black thong. The pointed toes of her black leather high heels gleamed faintly, and her skin was almost golden in the candlelight, the shadows soft along her curves.

Antoine’s fingers curled into fists at his sides, and he hung his head. Another peal of that alluring, smokey laughter wafted through the room as Ravyn wiped her sword clean. She had an idea of what she was dealing with, but the ritual to save the woman she had loved once might be too much for her to bear. She looked at the man who had taken her, and slid her sword into its scabbard.

“Speak no lies demon,” Ravyn said and stepped forward, but the possessed woman just continued to smile.

“Lies? Why bother with those when the truth is so much more delicious. Leave your lies and anger for the daylight. Tonight we dance with pretty words and truth,” the demon said through Marion’s lips. “I see all her thoughts, her memories. Oh, how she thinks of your lips still. Grazing her skin.”

“Be silent,” Antoine snarled, and the woman laughed again.

“Does it sting? That the woman you seduced from the arms of another still had feelings for her? It must, guessing by how puffy your eyes are,” Marion said, and Antoine’s knuckles went white as his fingers curled tighter into themselves. He looked away, eyes clenched.

“Your words are poison. Vile things to wrench a heart,” Antoine said as Ravyn stepped closer, between him and his wife, her love.

“They are indeed. But you didn’t seem to mind when you took me before running off for the witch. Oh, I’m sure she doesn’t know that part. That you had me upon my back, thrusting into your wife’s cunt, as a demon moaned out her pleasure. And you knew… you knew I wasn’t her,” the demon said and let out a low moan of pleasure, her fingertips playing along the smooth expanse of her borrowed stomach.

Antoine let out a snarl and advanced at her, fists raising. Ravyn stepped in front of him, and shook her head.

“You’re letting her get into your mind. She’s a succubus, lust is easy to her. Easy to get someone to do what they normally wouldn’t,’ Ravyn said, and the demon chuckled softly, a soft clap of her hands.

“Well done my sweet little witch. Tell me, does your cunt still taste so tart? I would very much like to remind our dear Marion,” the succubus said, and Ravyn closed her eyes for a moment. Centred herself before she turned to face the demon.

“What is your name?” Ravyn asked.

“Sarova,” the succubus replied and leaned back to lean upon her hands, keeping her host’s body wonderfully exposed. Ravyn couldn’t help her eyes from drifting. Running along all those points she was so familiar with. She scarcely looked any different, and Ravyn couldn’t help but want to discover if it would feel the same as she ran her tongue along Marion’s skin.

“That… was surprisingly easy,” Ravyn said.

“Of course. You need my name for any true rituals. You want to safely pull me from the woman you love, but he is fucking. I, want to walk in flesh of my own. So here I am, on Samhain, to be delivered properly, instead of wrenched like those fools that follow the light would do,” Sarova said through Marion, never quite letting her alluring smile waver upon her borrowed features.

Ravyn stared at the succubus, hiding behind the flesh of a woman she still somehow loved. She sighed and walked away, moving towards the table in the middle of the single roomed home. Antoine glanced from his wife, to the witch, and finally turned his back on the succubus.

“Can you help her?” Antoine asked as Ravyn pulled her grimoire from its satchel with one hand while the other wiped some crumbs from the table.

“I can. But… neither of us is going to like it,” Ravyn said as she set the grimoire down and opened it. The leather bindings creaked before her fingers carefully went through the pages. Her familiarity with the text and her own diagrams within making it easy to search out what she wanted. Beside her Antoine watched, eyes occasionally flicking to the succubus. He was shifting alot, unable to stay entirely still.

“Why not? And, why are you taking so long?” Antoine said, and Ravyn snapped her eyes to him. She pointed a finger at his chin.

“You will not rush me, and you will not take that tone with me again. It is tempting to leave the pair of you in this mess you made by ignoring my advice. You, who stole the one thing I loved, and her, who let you,” Ravyn said, and watched anger boil in Antoine’s eyes. “You know what? Fuck you.”

She closed the book carefully and picked it up. Saw Antoine’s fingers curling into fists at his sides again, and immediately grabbed the sword at her hip. So, this was it.

“The selfishness is this room is astounding,” the succubus said, and Antoine and Ravyn looked at her. “I should have expected as much from the man who fucked his possessed wife. A wife he stole from someone else because he wanted her, to fill her belly with babies I presume. And you Ravyn well… didn’t think you’d let your anger get to you.”

Ravyn didn’t say a word, but Antoine’s face was burning. With rage and shame. The succubus laughed, then continued.

“Though. I actually understand Ravyn’s position in all this. If I were her, I’d have let you rot good sir. Or maybe killed you. I’d say she’s earned a bit of selfishness towards you, and your poor, poor ensnared wife. But… I want what Antoine wants, just for different reasons. So Antoine, be a good boy and shut your stupid fucking yap before your self centred horseshit gets the church in here, and your wife burned at a stake.”

Antoine blinked at that, his anger flushed out of him like that. The gravity of the situation making itself well known once more. He hung his head, whether in shame or defeat, Ravyn couldn’t tell. She paused, glancing between the succubus and the man she loathed.

“I’m sorry Ravyn. Please… help us,” Antoine said finally, and Ravyn sighed. She set her book back down and opened it once more. Carefully she began to go through the pages, but Antoine didn’t move to watch this time. Just stood where he was, and stared at the ground.

“If you must know Antoine, she’s slow, because that book is a lot of work. A lot of work. So, she takes care of it,” Sarova said, leaning forward to rest her elbows upon her knees. She stared at the man, smirking now.

Silence fell again. The only sounds the soft turning of pages. Soon enough Ravyn found the page she was looking for. The long description of the ritual required to pull a succubus from a possessed host, with the diagrams she’d made of the sigils she would need to draw. She read it all over quickly, reminding herself of what had to happen, even as she hated it.

“This is why neither of us is going to enjoy it,” Ravyn said, pulling Antoine from his fugue. He took a deep breath and wandered over to look down at the pages facing at up them. His eyes quickly flicking over the words while Sarova grinned wickedly upon the bed.

“We… have to have sex,” Antoine said, blinking and refusing to look up from the book, his face burning as he realized his wife could likely hear this as well. If the succubus was to be believed.

“Some kind of sexual act, that must result in at least one of us achieving orgasm,” Ravyn said, trying to keep her words as clinical as she could. “The ritual was meant to entice the succubus’s spirit from the host, with visual delights and promises of pleasure and feeding.”

“Meant to,” Sarova said with a short bark of a laugh. “You humans think so highly of yourselves. But, the ritual is old, with old magics. It works, just not for the reasons you’ve stated. Perhaps once I’m free, I can help with your understanding in that regard my tart little witch.”

Despite herself, Ravyn felt a shiver course up her spine at the offer. She glanced to Sarova, feeling her lust and thirst for knowledge bubbling inside herself. More, she could almost feel Marion’s eyes upon her. Staring at her. She looked away from the succubus, and reached into her satchel for a piece of chalk.

“I’m going to draw the sigils. Antoine I need you to undress,” she said, unable to look at him even as she said it. For a moment he didn’t move, even as Ravyn knelt a few paces in front of the bed and painstakingly drew a circle on the floor.

Once she had closed it she heard the rustle of clothing. Saw the motions out of the corner of her eyes as she carefully drew small symbols along the inside of the circle, being very careful not to disturb the chalk she’d already traced upon the floor. Clothes, belts, and boots all hit the floor near the table in a disorganized pile and Antoine moved closer to the circle. His bare feet padded across the floor boards, and the succubus made an appreciative purr in Marion’s throat. She was maybe half way done when she carefully looked up.

Antoine stood in his underwear, which Ravyn was surprisingly thankful for. Even if she could see the clear outline of his manhood. His cock that had driven into the woman she loved.

She forced the image down and looked at his face. He didn’t seem happy, but for once she couldn’t blame him. Dirt and blood was smeared across his neck and face and she shook her head.

“Please, go wash up. I may not want to do this, but I’d prefer if you were clean,” Ravyn asked, and Antoine just nodded, a sullen look on his features.

“Aww, come now you two. It’s just sex,” Sarova said to them in a tone that was far too close to Marion’s voice for comfort. Ravyn saw Antoine grind his teeth just before she looked back down to her work. The stick of chalk dragged across the floor as Antoine walked across the room to a bucket of water nestled next to his hearth.

The slosh of water filled the silence in the room while Ravyn concentrated on finishing her symbols. Painstakingly ensuring each one was perfect. When it was finished she leaned back and sat upon her knees. Carefully she examined her work, taking long moments to ensure each symbol was perfect.

“Attention to detail. That gives me hope,” Sarova said, and Ravyn glanced upwards at the demon in her old lover’s flesh. She had leaned forward now, the candle’s flickering light illuminating her hair and shoulder, but her eyes glowed green in the shadows. Ravyn stared at her a moment, then looked away.

“One mistake gets someone like me run out of town at best. Tortured and burned at the stake at worst,” Ravyn said as she heard Antoine blow firmly, spraying water across the wall. She glanced over her shoulder at him with a frown. Stared at his naked bad, well muscled from years working in the forest. He hated her already, a small mistake here would give him all he needed to be rid of her.

“She won’t let that happen,” Sarova said, and Antoine froze in his washing even as Ravyn snapped her gaze to the succubus. Her brows stayed furrowed as she stared at those glowing eyes, unable to see the set of Sarova’s expression.

“Stop with your games. I’ve already said I’d get you out,” Ravyn said, getting to her feet and reaching into her satchel once more. She found a few candles, and placed two at each of the four cardinal points. She lit the ones at the north first, and worked her way east, south, and ended on west. Each step careful not to smudge the chalk.

“But the games are enjoyable. And what is the point of life and flesh, if not for enjoyment?” Sarova asked, before Antoine padded his way back over. He stood at the edge of Ravyn’s circle, glaring at the succubus. The witch looked over at him, could see the rage in his expression, but despite it saw the twitch in his undergarments as he stared at the demon of lust.

Ravyn sighed and stood. She looked over at Sarova.

“Much more than games and torment,” Ravyn said, and the succubus smiled. It was an alluring look that promised pleasure, and it sent a shiver down Ravyn’s spine. She turned away and went for her satchel once again, and pulled out a few strips of silk. Two thin, one broad.

“Ohhh… I recognize those,” Sarova said, and Ravyn let out a small sigh as Antoine’s eyes bored into her.

“I’m going to put these on you. Then, we are going to carry out the rest of the ritual,” Ravyn said, as Antoine looked over at the dark blue silk draped over her forearm.

“Why? I didn’t see that in the book,” Antoine asked, and it took effort for Ravyn not to sigh again.

“How deeply did you read it? These will help,” Ravyn said; not entirely a lie as it would help her do what needed to happen next. And might help Antoine as well. Sarova though just grinned wickedly, savouring the mounting tension.

“Fine,” was all Antoine said as Ravyn stepped in front of him.

She took the broader strip and carefully placed it over Antoine’s eyes, wrapped the tails back around his head and pulled them tight. She could feel his breath on her skin as her palms grazed along his hair. Firmly she tied it, pushing down the desire to hurry, instead taking her time to make sure it wouldn’t fall.

From the side she heard Sarova let out an appreciative groan, and there was a small hitch in Antoine’s breath. He sucked in a breath, trying to steady himself, while Ravyn’s bust brushed against his chest. When she finished with the blindfold she took a step back and moved behind Antoine.

“Next. Your arms,” Ravyn said as she walked around behind him. Her heels clicked on the floor boards, and Antoine kept quiet as the witch took his arms and gently pulled them towards the small of his back. Gently she took the last two strips of silk and tied his forearms and wrists together. For a moment she admired her handy work and gazed upon the mostly bared form of the man. She pushed away her loathing, and simply let herself see his physical beauty.

Well muscled, and well kept. Ravyn reached out and ran her fingers along his shoulder blade and down his spine. There was another small hitch in his breath as he began to fall into a moment of their making. Ravyn stepped away, back towards the table and began to remove her clothing.

As she draped her shawl across the back of a chair, and began to work on the lacing of her corset, she heard Antoine shifting behind her. The floorboards creaking along with the leather of her garment in the silence of the home. When she finally began to open the corset and slip her arms out, she heard a small purr from the bed. Ravyn closed her eyes a moment, and took a long breath before she set the folded corset beside her grimoire.

She turned her head, dragging hair up her shoulder, showing her naked back to the succubus. Antoine stood where he was, blinded by the silk strip with his head tilted up. His fingers danced in the small of his back, while Sarova and Marion stared at the bared flesh of the witch. That oh so familiar tongue danced across Marion’s lips, and it sent a shiver up Ravyn’s spine.

Forcing her attention back she undid her belt and pulled off her skirts. She bent at the waist to slide them down, remembering a time she had done the same for Marion. Bent over, skirt around the soles of her boots, ass clad in a dark blue thong, Ravyn began to untie her boots and carefully slipped out of them.

Near naked, Ravyn moved back to Antoine and stood in front of him. He shifted slightly on his feet, the two of them facing in each other in only undergarments just outside the symbol drawn upon the floor. On the far side, slowly uncrossing and recrossing Marion’s legs, the succubus watched with glowing eyes.

This was it. Ravyn couldn’t put it off anymore. Slowly she reached out, feeling lust from Sarova and Marion’s watching gaze, battling against the revulsion of helping Antoine. Of touching him.

At least he was pretty.

Fingertips grazed against his chest, and curled around his nipple. Antoine’s breath hitched again, his lips parting. Ravyn watched his half obscured face as her fingers trailed downwards. Down into the trail of soft hairs running from his navel to beneath his underpants. She slipped over the waistband of the linen garments, and traced along the outline of his manhood.

Now Antoine groaned softly, his cock stirring under Ravyn’s touch. Despite herself she felt excitement bubbling in herself. Coursing through her brain as this man reacted to her touch. Her other hand reached up and grazed across his jaw. A low moan spilled from Antoine, and a purr of excitement from Sarova as the bristle of a beard’s shadow scratched along Ravyn’s palm.

Ravyn stepped closer, and her right hand slid down until fingers caressed Antoine’s throat. His skin was warm to her touch, even as her breast pressed against her forearm. She leaned in, her forehead against his cheek as she looked down over his body, beautifully sculpted from years of hard work. The fingers of her left hand slid downwards over the outline of his stiffening cock until she turned the hand over and grasped his length. Felt it jump in her grip against the linen holding it in as Antoine groaned in pleasure. She let out a little groan of her own, and pulled her hand upwards until her touch was against his skin. Her nails scratched against his skin, slid beneath the linen and downwards until she cupped his cock once again.

Antoine groaned again, his hips giving a small thrust into Ravyn’s hand, and she teased at his neck. Her heart was beating faster as she stroked his manhood, each downward caress pushing against his undergarments. Slowly tugged them off his hips and down. He didn’t resist, just groaned as Ravyn found her lips grazing his jaw. That last bit of linen fell around his ankles, and he stood there with them stretched between planted feet as Ravyn continued to caress him. The heat of his hard flesh rubbing against her palm.

His little hitches of breath turned into groans of pleasure, and Ravyn found herself stroking faster. Stepping closer until the head of his cock slid over her stomach.