Interlogue 2

The grandmotherly old woman checked her watch. The gold, battery-powered timepiece was one of her few condescensions to modern-day technology. Its digital display showed that slightly more than the requisite two hours had passed since she’d forced the girl to drink the potion necessary for the ritual.

The old woman had been captivated by the girl the first time she’d seen her. She could sense the girl’s strength and vitality; she’d be the perfect vessel. While the girl had been sitting with friends in the mall, her jacket draped over the back of her seat, the old woman had managed to snag a couple of stray hairs from jacket’s collar. From those, she could scry to find out the girl’s whereabouts at any time, but the girl always seemed to be in a safe location or have someone with her.

Recently the old woman’s energy drain had increased, if anything, and she’d been forced to venture further down the mountain to find another short-term energy source. One of the farmers had a field full of pregnant ewes. The old woman knew it was dangerous, especially after using the rabbits and birds outside her lair, but she was desperate.

Afterwards, when government scientists had turned up wearing protective gear, the old woman thought she’d made a mistake, but it had actually worked in her favour. The officials had erected signs saying ‘DANGER. KEEP OUT. CDC.’ and they would deter both locals and tourists from the mountainside, something that would be especially useful during the time she would be vulnerable.

Suddenly the opportunity came that the old woman had been waiting for. On Sunday morning, scrying had revealed the girl wasn’t at home but in the town centre. The old woman had seized the opportunity; she waited until the girl was alone, then It had been a simple matter for her to put the girl in a trance and transport her back to her mountain lair.

The old woman had stripped the girl. Naked, she was a funny-looking thing: tall, slim, small breasts, clean-shaven genitals, and muscular thighs and calves with a couple of unfortunate scars in between. The girl was quite different from the standards of femininity the old woman was accustomed to, but she had a very pretty face and oozed raw latent sexuality. Once introduced to the pleasures of the flesh, the old woman had no doubt the girl would be a force of nature. If the old woman hadn’t been so desperate for renewal, she would have kept the girl around as a plaything for a while; she was no stranger to sexual relations with either gender.

The old woman had forced the entranced girl to drink a purgative potion to purify her internally. For two days the girl had been given only water to drink while all her toxins were flushed out. Then the old woman had laid the naked girl on her stone altar and strapped her down with bindings to her wrists and ankles. The old woman had tested the girl with a finger. No hymen, which was unfortunate but explained by the girl’s athleticism, but the girl was dry inside so it wasn’t her time of the month. If she’d been bleeding, the old woman would have had to delay until it was over and the girl was clean again.

When the girl was securely strapped down, the old woman had brought her out of the trance and cast a truth enchantment on her.

“Are you a virgin?” the old woman had asked.

“Yes”, the girl had readily replied. Or had there been an almost imperceptible hesitation? It didn’t matter: the girl would not have been able to lie while under the truth enchantment. The old woman had then put the girl back into a trance and forced her to drink the ritual potion.

Now the two hours were up, the old woman released the girl from her trance but she didn’t stir. The old woman gave the girl’s face a couple of gentle slaps but there was no response: the ritual potion had taken effect.

From memory, the old woman recited the long and complex enchantment that transferred her powers to the girl’s blood. Blood magic was the most powerful form, potentially very dangerous to both the wielder and the target, and the old woman preferred to avoid it, especially when it required the shedding of her own blood.

When she had finished, the old woman was powerless and vulnerable. All the spells she had cast during her current renewal, apart from some minor blood magic when she’d taken advantage of accidentally pricking or cutting herself with needles and knives, were now nullified. And that included most of the spells protecting her lair from detection.

Kneeling beside the stone altar, the old woman bit the girl’s neck with her teeth, then planted her lips over the cut and began sucking up the rich, coppery, liquid of renewal that seeped out. Soon she’d be young and powerful again!