Tell him, a voice in her mind urged. Whatever he wants to hear. ANYTHING he wants to hear. Just tell him, Vicki...

But:

"No, Sam." Tears in her eyes; in her voice, too, but that didn't stay him for a second. "Please. Listen to me...you aren't yourself...aiiiggghhhh!"

"But that's where you're wrong, angel."

Victoria Montesi didn't even hear him. When she'd woken in this dank, near-lightless dungeon somewhere under Rome, chained by wrists and ankles to a cold oaken table, Vicki had known an instant of adrenalized panic - a panic she'd just as quickly wiped away. Fear was useless. The worst had already happened.

Or anyway...she'd thought it had.

"Ohhhhhhh GOD!" Cables stood out in Vicki's throat as - eyes squeezed shut against the pain - she howled for mercy that would never come. Vertebrae popped, her back arching into an impossible curve; beads of perspiration springing up on his creased forehead, Vicki's tormentor ground his teeth, rock-hard biceps cast into wet relief by the clinging sleeves of a white silk shirt soaked through with the sweat of exertion. It was no small task, even for a man of his size, for Sam Buchanan to twist the great iron crank mounted on the underside of the table-top. The slack ends of Vicki's chains reached under the table, to wind around that crank, and were slack no more; not the way Sam turned the wheel. Each revolution pulled Vicki's feet that much closer to her hands...behind her back. If they met - when they met - Vicki would be torn in half.

She hoped.

"Someone help meeeeeeeee! LIIIIILLLITTTHHH!"

"Oh, angel," Sam said. Smiling, shaking his head, he wrenched the crank's handle to the left. There came a reverberating thoom-CLUNK that might have heralded lockdown at a maximum security prison, and then the gears of the crank were locked in place. Vicki's tailbone was a good three inches above the tabletop, but at least she was bent no further backward. She writhed, whimpering, then sobbed in frustration and went limp. Sam's smile grew wider.

"It must have been so hard for you," he said. "You must have been so confused. It's just not natural for two women to be in love, babe. I mean, think about it...what would you do? Heh heh heh."

"You...have no idea," Vicki hissed. "You..."

No, that inner voice piped up. If you get angry, you lose. Argue with whatever's possessing him and you give it strength. You can't beat it. Only Sam can. Help him.

"...Maybe you're right. I...I've never thought about it that way. But I'm very happy, Sam. And I know, because you care about me, that's what you want for me..."

Sam whipped his head right, eyes suddenly clenched shut against tears, jaws grinding so hard it sounded like he had a mouthful of bones. His face exploded into a dizzying array of tics. A low, mournful moan vibrated his teeth.

"I know it is, Sam." Saltwater dewed her dark lashes. Softer, almost whispering: "Sam. Sweet Sam. If I could just touch you..."

"NO!" Sam barked, features flushed. A terrified Vicki tried to twist away from him, but there was nowhere to go; Sam stalked away a few feet, then began to pace, insane eyes finding hers and then darting away over and over in the space of heartbeats. "Dammit, goddammit Victoria! What the fuck do you think you're doing to me, demon cunt! You're tearing out my heart, you bitch! You're tearing out my heart!"

Vicki swallowed hard, more aware than ever of her helplessness. "I...I just thought it might make you feel better to-"

"Feel better?! Why the fuck do you think I feel like this now, Vicki? God, why do you have to make everything so difficult? What do you think I want from you? Do you think I want your fucking sympathy? Fuck you! I want your love, you fucking whore! I WANT-"

"No."

Sam blinked.

"But..." Sam began. He shook his head. "...But why?"

"Because it isn't true," Vicki told him. "Because I'm not in love with you. Because I could never be in love with you. Because I'm gay, and I'm in love with someone else already. And because..."

She closed her eyes, sighing. Trying to summon some kind of power. Trying to somehow call out to Lilith. Trying to somehow do something.

Before it was too late for her to do anything.

"Because why, angel?" His breath, hot on her face, drying her tears; his callused hand there now as well. "Tell me why. Please. Oh, God. Please..."

"Because" - eyes still closed - "I think you've been enchanted. And I think I know what happens to me when I tell you what you want to hear. And every minute that I don't is another minute I'm not dead."

Silence.

"...Sam?"

"That isn't the answer."

Vicki heard a metallic spring pop somewhere very near her face; in the next split-second, a lance of stabbing white-hot pain struck the space just beneath her right eye. That eye snapped open. She saw red: Saw blood. A blossom of it opening in the flesh just below her eyelid. Her vision traveled north, along the shaft of polished silver, glistening with liquid crimson, that fed back into Sam's fist.

The shaft of a switchblade.

"Oh, shit," Vicki gasped.

"You're afraid I'll kill you?" Sam asked. "I could never do that, don't you see? I love you, Victoria. I'd die without you. I'm dying inside, right now. Your lies...Jesus, your lies hurt me so much, angel. You don't know. God couldn't let me love you this much unless you felt the same way...it just doesn't work like that, V. I know, deep in your heart, you feel like I feel..."

"I don't," Vicki breathed. "Sam, you have to understand...I don't."

"Love is blind. You could be hideous. Horribly disfigured. Scarred for life. It wouldn't matter to me, angel. Not even a little bit. I just want you to know that."

Her breath caught. "No-"

The knife slashed left. Right. Left again. Blood splashed Sam's smiling face.

"You still don't understand, Victoria," he said. "That isn't the answer."

For Mature Readers Only

#6
August '03

Strange Tales Presents

Witches

"Yes, Victoria"
Story by Megan Curtis
Guest-scripted by Lucio Del Toro

"...Arthur?"

The young man whom Topaz addressed - a young man who, until quite recently, had never left the mystical Isle of Avalon, and who now found himself smack-dab in the middle of Paris by night - didn't seem to have heard her at first.

Though he'd shown up in France with the foresight to know that medieval garb wouldn't go over well in the modern world, Arthur still managed to look like a tourist. For one thing, Topaz had dressed him, which meant he was presently decked out in a brown leather jacket, blue jeans, cowboy boots and a wide-brimmed black Stetson. All perfectly normal for, say, Austin, Texas; passing strange for Paris, France. For another, Arthur was staring at the Eiffel Tower.

And, softly, crying.

"Arthur?" Topaz said again, from beside him. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine." He touched her hand then, without taking his eyes from the structure. "Thank you."

"It's okay," she said, a little uncertainly. "I just was worried that-"

"No, love. Not thank you for your concern. Thank you for this."

"...Oh." Grinning, blood flushing her butterscotch complexion, Topaz looked at her feet. "Man...you are too cool..."

"No, no..." Arthur turned to her, his lips an O. "Have I been remiss? I don't mean to come across as cool. Respectful, surely, but-"

Topaz snickered, slapping his arm. "It's a figure of speech. Y'know. Something we say? I don't mean that you're cold, because you're...um...not cold. You're merely...cool." She lifted a dark eyebrow. "Get it?"

"I..." Arthur looked at her blankly. "...No."

"Okay." Nodding, she took his arm, hoping to none-too-subtly guide him away from the Eiffel Tower before nocturnal pigeons decided the two of them were statues. Anyway, they had a whole city to explore; why waste time here? "It's okay. We have a lot of time to work on obscure linguistic differences. Especially since we have no one else to talk to, since apparently no one else in this entire town speaks a word of -"

"Hey!" someone shouted through an unbelievably thick French accent. "Fucking American cowboy faggot!"

"Oh, yeah..." Topaz bit her lip. "I guess you really aren't dressed appropriately."

"I don't understand," Arthur said. "I'm not an American." He creased his brow. "Am I a cowboy faggot?"

Topaz winced. She gripped his hand and walked faster. "Just don't say anything, okay?"

"Well, if your honor has been contested in some way-"

"My honor's a hundred percent." They stepped off the curb, into the street. "Stainless, I promise. Couldn't be better. Think nothing of-yeeeeeeeeeee!"

Arthur yanked her back at the last second - just in time for them both to avoid being mowed down by some asshole's little red moped. Said asshole stopped on a dime sideways in front of them, effectively blocking their path. He was about twenty, lithely-muscular arms covered in faux-jailhouse tattoos left bare by a white wifebeater, stubble all over his cheeks that probably took him a week to cultivate, black hair slicked back, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth...and, of course, proving that he was an asshole just in case there was still any doubt, he was wearing sunglasses. At ten PM.

Two assholes who looked just like him appeared on scooters of their own.

Aw, fuck, Topaz thought. She squeezed Arthur's hand harder. She felt him tense, and couldn't decide if his reaction reassured her.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Asshole Number One sneered. Eees thees - had they not been in Paris, Topaz would have been sure the accent was a put-on. "You look like John Wayne's faggot grandson, you silly fucker. I think you pay me to fuck your woman since you are too faggot to do it alone. What do you say?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Arthur said. "You don't speak English very well. However, I'm rather tired from walking up and down the length of your magnificent Tower, and I like your mechanical horse. May I buy it?"

Topaz blinked. Slowly, she turned to look at Arthur. "...What?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's really more of a peace offering than anything else," he told her conspiratorially. "Even in Avalon, we have peasants and malcontents; dissatisfied with their lot in life, these unfortunates often harbor resentments against those more privileged. We have a saying: 'There, but for the grace of God, go I.' You see-"

"Yeah, um, we have that saying, too, but what I think you don't understand-"

"Hey, asshole!" Asshole Number One barked, getting their attention. Once he had it, he flicked his burning cigarette at Arthur. "Fuck you."

"Ah." Arthur looked down at the spot at his chest where the cigarette struck, spraying glowing orange sparks, before it landed in the gutter. "Now I see."

And then, before Topaz had any idea what was happening, Arthur released her hand -

And was at once on the other side of the moped. It was only when she heard the driver grunt, heard the impact, saw the blood and shattered teeth and broken sunglasses sail up into the night air and saw the Asshole crack the blacktop, unconscious, and Arthur land on his feet next to the fallen man a moment later that she realized:

"Jesus! Arthur! You just kicked that guy off his bike!"

"Your grasp on the obvious is remarkable, my dear," Arthur grinned, quickly straddling the moped and taking hold of Topaz's arm and pulling her onto the bike behind him - all in what looked like one fluid motion. "Is this another of your magical talents?"

"Omigod," Topaz babbled. Her vision scanned madly around, eyes going wide on the sight of the two other cyclists, cursing pugnaciously in their native tongue, circling and sneering and revving the engines of bikes pointed right at them. "Omigod omigod!"

"Evidently," Arthur said, furrowing his brow, getting it, and then opening up the throttle, "I misjudged the scenario in which we found ourselves. I assure you it won't happen again. Now let's see here..."

"Arthur what the hell we're gonna die those guys are gonnaWAHHHHH!"

"That must be it," Arthur said, as they suddenly rocketed off into the night. His hat was whisked away by the slipstream, loosing an explosion of long, curly brown hair. "Spectacular! I can't even imagine what it must be like to joust on one of these!"

"OtherthanincrediblyfuckingDANGEROUS, youmean?!!"

Arthur laughed richly. "It is a little difficult to converse and be heard, I'll admit. By the by, are those two blackguards following us?"

"IdunnoI'mnotlookingback - SHIT! Wrong side WRONG SIDE!"

"Hmmmm? Ah, all right." Arthur swerved them over into the opposite lane. "One side for passage in each direction, eh? I suppose that would be necessary for horses that move so-"

"OmigodNO! SHIT! We're in EUROPE! Other side OTHER SIDE!"

"What? Topaz, really, you're baffling me utterly. One moment you-"

"LookOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTT!"

"Oh."

Amidst a barrage of horn-honks, Arthur twisted the cycle out of the path of oncoming traffic and weaved between a bus and-

"A police car..." Topaz whimpered, almost at the brink of tears.

"What's that?"

"I said, it's a police car!"

"Ah hah," Arthur responded. "Is that-"

"YES, IT IS VERY BAD!"

Arthur shrugged. "Well, then. Let me get us well away from that."

"NO! Stop! JUST STOP!!"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question," Arthur replied. "As I have no idea at all how to stop our horse. Nevertheless, I see a clear solution to our problem. A conveyance that large surely can't follow us onto the sidewalk!"

All Topaz could do was scream.

"It...it is enough to drive a man mad..."

Lilith had to agree with the speaker: Vittorio, father of the girl whom Lilith had lately loved, and literally lost. The two of them had spent what must have been an hour wandering this vast stone labyrinth beneath Saint Peter's Basilica, all to no avail; Lilith had a sneaking suspicion they were, in fact, walking in circles. The vampire was herself quite female, but she had a feeling her lunacy was right around the corner. Vittorio had apparently been in the grip of his for some time.

"Listen, old fuck," Lilith said with weary contempt. "Because I'm only saying this once..."

"How dare you address me so?!" Vittorio spun on her, rheumy eyes starting from the sockets beneath his crooked spectacles. "Don't think just because I am your prisoner I have forgotten what you are, thing of Hell! Your pretty face does not fool me. The stink of you makes me want to puke my guts. I spit at you! Ptui!"

A green glob of sputum spattered Lilith's fair cheek. She merely stood there, gazing on the old man as it oozed down her face. She evinced no expression at all.

"Bah," Vittorio mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Okay. Crazy bitch. You stand there. Whatever. I am not scared. I have a demon to expunge from the face of this fucking godforsaken earth. Goodbye." He turned his back on her.

"Are you done?"

"Hah?" Vittorio said, looking irritably back over his shoulder. "Wha-"

"Good." Lilith's hand flew at the old man like a bullet, put a hammerlock on his throat, and lifted him two feet off the stone floor to slam his weight against the wall. She pinned him there, sneering up into his horrorstruck face. "Because I'm not."

"Guhhhhh...what...put me..."

"I'm just getting started. Here's what I'm thinking: Back when we woke up in that other room and found Vicki missing, I asked you, Are there any tunnels that lead away from this room? You remember...it wasn't that long ago. Do you remember what you told me, Vittorio?"

"I..." He squirmed in her grip. "I..."

"You told me no." Her humorless smile widened, baring her fangs. "And yet...here we are. So tell me this: How much faith do I place in you?"

"You...knocked down that wall...I...did not know...what was behind..."

"You're a fucking liar."

"No..." Eyes streaming, Vittorio tried to shake his head. "The...the truth...before Christ, I say it to you...I tell you only..."

"Shit." Disgustedly, as if Vittorio were already an after-thought, Lilith released her hold on him. The old man slid down the wall to land hard on his ass. The vampire turned from him, set her palm to the opposite wall, and hung her head of streaming black hair in frustration. "You really don't know where the fuck we are. Well, now what the hell do I do?"

"I cannot say," Vittorio rasped, rubbing his bruised throat. If nothing else, he seemed more cooperative now. "You live forever, no? So we walk these halls until I die. Then you keep walking."

"I might be able to finally have an intelligent conversation then, anyway. In every other regard, your plan is for shit."

"I hate it, too," Vittorio agreed. "Especially the part where I am dead."

"We may be coming up on that part sooner than you think."

"It is not my fault that-"

"Yes, it is, you fucking asshole," Lilith said, glaring back at him. "The only reason Vick and I were even here was because-"

She stopped.

Vittorio cocked his head. "...What?"

"This."

The hand she had flattened against the wall curled into a fist. Seemingly without effort, her eyes on the old man the whole time, that fist plunged through two feet of solid rock. When she pulled it back, the hole left behind was tall enough to accommodate the passage of a human being.

Or...whatever.

"I'm an idiot," she told him. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's just another room beyond that wall. A room like this. There must be a million of them."

"I'll knock down a million walls."

"It is a brilliant plan." Vittorio rose. "I take back all that I have said. I am proud of you, and wish you much luck. Goodbye."

"Follow." Lilith stepped through the opening she'd made. "Now."

And then they were flying.

She didn't know much else about what had transpired in the past ten minutes - she'd had her eyes closed for half of them - but she knew that. She heard the moped rev, felt the wheels go thump-thump-thump faster than fast over what must have been the slats between boards, felt the bike leave solid ground -

Then felt her grip on Arthur's shoulders slipping.

"Topaz!" Arthur whipped his long-haired head back over his shoulder, features flushed, giddy enthusiasm giving way to shock in the space of a heartbeat - he reached back for her, too late. "Hold-"

Gravity yanked her back. Suddenly, it was as if Arthur and the moped careening mid-air were a thousand miles distant, his hand hopelessly out of reach - Topaz caught a flash of Arthur's mouth popping open in an inaudible gasp - and then -

It all went dark. And cold. And

Wet. It was as if she'd plunged into an alien world of liquid. The way you'll sometimes wake in a familiar room after a strange dream and, looking about in the darkness, you think for a moment that you have no idea where you are, because it's all so new; but then you realize it's not. It's just your perspective - this is a room you've never seen this way before. It was the same, now, for Topaz...opening her eyes. And thinking, I must be dead. I've never felt anything like this before in my life. This must be Heaven.

And then she thought:

Oh. Actually...no. I'm just underwater.

And then she thought:

What the FUCK am I doing underwater?!

And then it didn't matter. Because she had a much more pressing concern. Looking up through the dark water, she saw no light at all; then, faintly, moonlight - at least a dozen yards above her head. Instinctively, she exhaled in shock, and the oxygen left her lungs in a fat, quivering bubble that shot for the surface. She tried to scream, but couldn't make a sound; that was worse. Clutching her throat, face going violet, Topaz thrashed desperately as the murky waters pulled at her, adding what felt like lead weight to her jacket, her boots, her jeans -

And then she felt arms around her.

"Hahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she gasped, as they broke the surface. Topaz threw her head back, sucking down air, and the stars above had never looked so good. "Oh, Jesus - oh, Jesus!"

"Topaz," Arthur said. She looked down and realized for the first time that it was his broad shoulders she had her arms wrapped around, that it was Arthur who had saved her; oncoming death had made a blank slate of not just that evening's events, but of her entire existence. Now it all came rushing back, and - gazing on the adoringly concerned face of her savior - she found her newly-recalled life a pleasant surprise indeed. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose you. There wasn't another-"

"What...what just happened?"

"I...well..." Arthur smiled sheepishly. "You see. I managed to escape our pursuers -"

"Wait. What pursuers?"

"You know. The two rogues. And the...police car, as you called it? It was shortly joined by a second. Well, and then a third...also, I'm not quite sure why, but two more simply appeared as if summoned by magic! Then-"

She was swiftly developing a migraine. "Okay. Please. That's enough. Cut to the chase." She shook her head. "After the chase, I mean."

"Right. I'd managed to lose them, but unfortunately, I still couldn't figure out how to halt our mount. So I..."

Topaz glanced over her shoulder, mouth dropping open at what she saw. "So you drove us over a pier?"

"It seemed a sound idea at the time."

Her eyes went downcast. "I don't...believe it..."

"I'm really extremely regretful," Arthur said. "In particular, I regret what nearly happened to you. I never felt we were in danger until that moment. This world is new to me, and I still have so much to learn; but if the price of my ignorance should be your...your life, then -"

"Snnrrrkkkk."

Arthur balked. "M-milady? Did you--?"

Topaz burst into laughter, and looked up at him with mischievous eyes. "You drove us over a pier! After we ran from the cops! We both could have died!"

"I...I can only apologize..."

"Apologize?! I think I'm in love with you, man!"

"Ah." Arthur's expression softened...went sly. "Then I suppose we've reached an accord..."

With considerably more assertion than Topaz would have imagined him capable of, Arthur pulled her face closer to his own, and enveloped her mouth with a kiss. A sound came out of her like "mmmrrr," and - until she corrected it - her tongue in his mouth was like a dead fish, stirred to life only by the motions of his. Her pulse skyrocketed, more from startled panic than passion. They'd kissed before, but not like this...there was something chaste in it earlier that evening, something almost childlike...like they were just a couple of kids, playing at grown-up ardor...

...Something that felt a hell of a lot more comfortable than this.

But she didn't not want it; and if there were anything Arthur wanted more, he certainly gave no indication of it. The cold water had brought her nipples erect, and Arthur's palm slid over their points, then tested the springy feel of her breasts, then began kneading them as he kissed her. His other hand slid down her back, following the curve of her spine, then - more roughly than she'd expected - cupped one buttock. That, too, he began to squeeze and caress as he kissed her, and Topaz's eyes sprang momentarily open as he pulled the lower half of her body closer, and she felt his cock press into her crotch. His mouth slid wetly away from hers, allowing her breath; hissing hot breath over the cool skin of her neck, he ran his teeth down the length of her jugular, nipping and licking as he went. The hand on her ass slipped around to the front of her, and she felt a small release of pressure as he found the zipper of the jeans now plastered to her body and tugged it down. His fingers pushed the crotch of her panties aside, the ball of his thumb going for her clitoris, and his first two fingers -

"Whoa," Topaz breathed. Swallowing hard, getting a hold of herself, she placed her hands on his shoulders and firmly pushed him back an inch. "Whoa."

"Oh," Arthur said into her neck, "I think not, miss..."

"I think so, sir. I think-" Her hand shot under the water, seizing his by the wrist. "Are you listening to me?"

"I am." His eyes rolled up to meet hers. Cheeks scarlet, his teeth bare, he seemed less ready for lovemaking than for battle. He ran his tongue over his top lip, his gaze on her own all the while, and she all but had an orgasm on the spot. "Are you listening to yourself?"

"What..." It was hard to breathe. "What do you mean."

"You want this." That tongue rolled over the tips of the fingers that had, moments before, been inside of her. "Your body won't let you lie."

"Oh...oh, wow."

"I came here for you, Topaz," Arthur told her. "For you and nothing else. And you know that. You knew that from the moment you saw me on the street. I have never wanted any woman the way that I want you. For you, I left Avalon..."

"Yeah," she said, recovering herself. "Avalon and how many other girls, Arthur?"

He blinked. "What? No! Listen, what makes you think-"

"Well, you sure as hell found my clit right away, didn't you? You're obviously not a..." She bit back tears, turned from him. "...Dammit."

"Milady..." He sighed. "I know not what stays you, but I do know this -"

"What I know is that we're still in the freezing cold water, and that's maybe romantic for about five seconds, but after that-"

"Stop," Arthur said, not unkindly. "Please."

"I just..." And now it was Topaz who sighed, and averted her eyes. "I really like you. Okay? I do. I-"

"There's no need. Truthfully. I understand..."

"But you don't, is the thing," she cut in. "I just don't want to. Not...not now. I mean, I do want to, and I'm telling you that because I don't want you to think I don't. I feel like a bitch. I feel like a lame bitch."

Arthur flinched. "You certainly shouldn't feel that way."

"Well, I do. I...y'know, you're very nice. Any girl would be stupid to... I don't want to go too fast. This fast. I've been burned before. Badly. And-"

He knitted his brow. "You're right. The water is cold. Let's go back."

"I..." Topaz blinked; she saw that Arthur had lost all expression, and she felt something cold and weighty sink to the bottom of her stomach. "...All right."

"Sam."

Through a mouthful of blood. Through lips cut to ribbons. In the dark, her eyes found nothing; then, faintly, she saw the firelight of the two small torches mounted on a nearby wall of the dungeon flicker over the blade of Sam's knife, but not the steel. None of the steel was visible. Not through its sheen of liquid scarlet.

"Yes, angel," he said, desperate. She hadn't spoken in five minutes; only her cries when the switchblade cut into her let him know she was still alive. "What is it, Victoria? Are you ready to tell me now?"

She fell silent. She heard his breath catch in the stillness.

Tightly, Victoria Montesi smiled...spilling blood from the slashes in her mouth. She had him.

"...No, Sam."

Sam Buchanan shuddered with barely-suppressed fury. "What...will...it..."

"You just don't understand," Vicki croaked out. "It's..."

"The vampire," Sam said. "That dyke cunt. Lilith."

Vicki tried to shake her head. "No. I couldn't love her, Sam. You were right. Not like I could love you..."

He gasped, seizing her by the shoulder. "Then...then you do love..."

"I could," Vicki whispered. "I could if you were right for me, Sam."

"No," Sam gasped. "I mean...what do you mean?"

"I think you know," Vicki told him. "And it's easy to fix. Just one...little...cut."

"No." Baring his teeth, he shouted in her face: "No! I WON'T!"

"I couldn't love a man, Sam. I..."

Oh, fuck, went through her mind as all around her the dungeon strobed, rippled, became liquid. Her pulse thundered in her ears, a crashing drumbeat that built and built and built in volume and intensity, that seemed to shake the floor beneath her -

Keep it together, Vicki. You've lost a lot of blood, but not that much. Just stay conscious thirty more seconds...

"Victoria!" and the hard slap across her stinging face brought her around. Her pulse was still unnaturally loud in her ears, but she was back... "What is that? What have you done?!"

"...Done?" Then she realized: He can hear it, too. Her pulse. But how? But it didn't matter; maybe he was talking about something else altogether. He was charmed - charmed, or simply mad. Either way, she had to play out her hand while she still had time; work the gambit that would either finally bring Sam Buchanan back to his senses, or lead to him doing himself harm. She only hoped that would stop him from killing her...

"I haven't done anything, Sam. Nothing except...wish I could have you. Wish you could be what I needed you to be. For me. If only...God...if only..."

Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.

"You think..." He swiped an anxious hand through his hair, streaking it red, matting it down with blood. "What the fuck do you think, Vicki? Do you really think you're that hot a commodity? Do you think you're in a position to bargain? Let me tell you something about yourself right now-"

"Let me tell you, Sam," she seethed. "If you think I'll love you as you are, you might as well just cut my throat this second and get it over with. I will never love you."

"I..." Howling out a moan, tears streaming down his face, Sam drew the knife down the length of his length, drawing a line of scarlet that quickly oozed, his gaze on her all the while. "You can't mean that! You...oh, God!"

"You think I want that piece of shit near me?" Vicki rasped. "I don't want it anywhere near me. Nowhere. Just get rid of it. Like a tumor. Like a cancer. Kill it. Kill it, Sam. Kill it and I'll love you, yes."

"Noooooooooo!" Bawling, Sam crashed to his knees -

Thoom. Thoom. THOOM.

"Please, no," he wept. Tenderly, he massaged his crotch through his jeans. The blade in his opposite hand shook. "This can't..."

"Well..." Vicki began, then suddenly convulsed. She'd long since vomited up everything that she'd eaten that day; but since then, she had swallowed a terrible amount of her blood, and all of it came hosing out of her mouth at once. It burned in her contusions, alerting her anew to slashes in her belly, her face, the white-hot agony where something she couldn't even think about had happened to her left breast. "...Fucker," she choked out, weeping. "Do it!"

"I...I..." Hands trembling, Sam undid his button fly. "Oh, no." Dimly, Vicki saw Sam's tumescent cock flop out his jeans, then quickly shrink from the light touch of the blade at its base. Sam bawled harder, punching himself repeatedly in the eye. "No...no..."

"If you don't..."

"Shut UP!" Sam was at once back on his feet, swinging the knife at her in a balled fist. "Fucking bitch FUCKING BITCH! JUST SAY IT!"

"No."

"Fine!" Savagely, he pulled a blazing torch from the wall at his shoulder, then thrust it an inch from her face. "You want this? DO YOU?"

THOOM. THOOM. THOOM!

"What," a woman's voice said from behind them, "in the fuck...is this supposed to be."

And then they realized that the wall at their backs had just exploded.

And Vicki blacked out.

"You must wake," an old man said in Italian-accented English, so close to her face that she could smell the garlic and vodka on his breath. He shook her shoulder. "You must wake now!"

Groaning, Vicki stirred back into wakefulness. She heard a crashing, a growling, and then saw - across the room - a blur of black motion she realized after a moment was Lilith, hurling Sam Buchanan all around the dungeon. Lilith's lips were pulled back in a snarl that exposed three-inch needle fangs that shone with blood. Sam's muscular form struck the stone walls like a shot from a cannon, bones breaking volubly on impact, but still he kept rising - kept coming at the vampire. Lilith hissed, meeting the madman's charge, her eyes gone blazing red; and, in spite of everything - never mind that this was the woman Vicki loved, and the woman who had just saved her life - Vicki shuddered.

Lilith, she'd known, was not human. But this was the first Vicki's lover had seemed truly inhuman. And Vicki...not fully human herself...knew cold dread even so.

"This man is in the grip of dark magicks," Vittorio told Vicki. "Your friend may be in more danger than it seems. And you..." He winced. "I do not think you are..."

Vicki gnashed her teeth. "Why...the hell are you telling me? I'm obviously not in very hot sha..." Her words were lost in a hacking spray of blood.

"You have some powers, no? Perhaps you could-"

"Jesus...fuck. I don't even have the power to unchain myself, moron! Listen, you guarded the Darkhold since like..." Her head swam. "...Van Buren was president or something. Didn't you ever...I don't know...memorize any spells or anything? You know? Something useful?"

"Oh, no," Vittorio said, shaking his head emphatically. "You misunderstand. I of course did study the Darkhold. But strictly for theological reasons! To cast spells from that book especially is to imperil-"

"I think we're pretty imperiled right now," Vicki hissed. "Wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah." He nodded, grimly. "Okay. But this is specific shit. If I fuck it up, we may be all doomed. Also, I should draw a circle...it requires the most intense focus of the will -"

"We don't have time for that." She coughed. "I don't have time for anything. Just do it, you useless old..." She choked back blood. "Hurry."

Vittorio nodded, patting her hand. What she saw in him as he looked at her disturbed her deeply...something she thought might have been pity. Then he turned from her, facing the combatants. The old man made symbols in the stagnant air of the dungeon with his hands...and then, glowing with a weird green eldritch light, he began to chant.

Lilith Drake was gone.

Though the underground chamber was too dark for Vittorio or his daughter to have seen it, the vampire's aspect had lost his semblance to humanity in the space of minutes: Her face lost all color, became longer, more vulpine, her ears long and pointed and leathery, her hair somehow even blacker, more lustrous. Her fangs and nails - now claws - shone with blood, were daubed with the flesh and fat of her attacker: Her victim. Words came out of Sam Buchanan's mouth, but the thing that had been Lilith Drake heard them only as sounds...animalistic sounds. White noise.

His flashing silver knife came at her again and again; Lilith leaned into it, letting the switchblade slash rents in her ghastly features, spraying blood everywhere, then opened her jaws impossibly wide and locked them over Sam's wrist. The blade shattered in her mouth, as she closed it hard. As Sam bellowed, Lilith twisted her head away -

And then she wasn't facing Sam at all.

"L..." Lilith's pupils shrank back, lost their glowing red light, and filled with incomprehension. "...Liz?"

And it was: Liz McConel, one of the young women Lilith and the rest of Clea's witches had saved and taken away...how long ago? It hardly seemed to matter: Not now, with the girl suddenly and inexplicably standing in Sam Buchanan's place, saying:

"You shouldn't have left after you even got within range of Avalon. Your time is done."

And then Liz was gone.

"What..." Drained, deflated, her faux humanity returned to her in her confusion, Lilith turned to Vittorio and Vicki. "...What the fuck was that?"

And then, in horror, Lilith Drake covered her mouth.

It was her first clear sight of Victoria Montesi.

Or what remained of her.

"That's a good question, babe," Vicki managed to get out. "Does this mean we have to go to Avalon?"

But Lilith, weeping tears of blood, could not care about the answer.

I'm very pleased to have guest-scripted this issue of Witches for Megan. She said that between assembling the Witches special issue and writing SexKitten for Frontier, she just didn't have the opportunity to write the issue herself in any reasonable amount of time. I tried to write it as well as Megan does, and I hope that you're not disappointed. As always I am sure she is happy to hear your thoughts.

Lucio - 7/24/03