Chapter 1

Charlie felt like absolute shit. Not only was he hung over, but his back felt like he'd had a chair broken over it, or he'd fallen back onto some glass, or something.

"Shit, I feel like somebody carved last night out of my brain and didn't clean up after." said his roommate, Steve. Charlie's skull throbbed with every syllable. Steve put his hand on Charlie's back.

"Ow! Fuck!" he shouted, tumbling out of bed. Fortunately, he was on the bottom bunk. He scrambled to his feet and went to the bathroom to see if he could survey the damage. The light stabbed his eyes as it flicked on. Covering his face and hissing like a vampire, he turned it off and grabbed a glow-stick from the drawer instead. The softer, blue glow didn't hurt nearly as much. He held it over his back and turned his head around to see what was there.

"Boss tattoo, man." Steve said by way of a compliment. "Bitchin'!"

"My mom's gonna bitch when she sees it this Thanksgiving." Charlie said.

"So keep yer shirt on, duh." Steve said. "Uh, I think... yeah, we were at the south end of the mall. It's the only place in town with an occult bookstore anywhere near a tattoo parlor seedy enough to take our money while we're drunk."

"Huh?" Charlie asked. He found his friend holding a big, thick, leatherbound book with one of Charlie's socks marking a page. He picked it up and opened it. That same symbol was sprawled all over one page of the book. The opposite page, from what little Charlie knew of Old English, especially in his current state, described the symbol as a charm to ward off hostile magics, bad luck and possession. "We gotta take this book back. It looks expensive."

"Good luck taking that tat back." Steve joked. He laughed, then winced as the action irritated his dehydrated brain. Charlie found some socks, his shoes--one of which was hooked on the traffic cone on Steve's head--and a shirt. He hoped he could get his money back.

Amelie could sense a powerful magical presence nearby. A young scholar emerged from the dorms, wearing dark sunglasses and carrying a leatherbound tome under his arm.

"That... that mark on the cover!" she gasped. "The Grimoire of Tashi Myrdhynn! At last!" The youth headed for the mall. "Could it be he purchased it at that seedy bookstore? Perhaps in a state of extreme inebriation? After four hundred years, the gods at last reward my patience!" She teleported to the mall to lay her trap. She had to erase and re-draw the lines twice, because her hands shook from extreme excitement. She made herself invisible and lay in wait as her quarry approached. He passed through her magical snare and entered the bookstore without harm. Blast! She must have botched it after all! She appeared in his path, spreading out her cloak to unveil what lay beneath.

"Give me the grimoire!" she demanded. He looked confused for a moment, then looked at the book in his hands.

"Oh, you mean this thing?" he asked.

"Yes!" she said huskily.

"'Kay." he said, handing over the book as if it were Curious George and the Magic Show, not a conduit of unimaginable power. She was taken aback at how easy it had been.

"Just like that?" she asked, clutching it to her breast.

"Well, I can't use it, and it ain't worth having my balls banished to another dimension or something." he said. "Besides, I don't hit girls."

At the sound of the word "girls," fury boiled within Amelie's breast. "Impudent wretch!" she shrilled. She was about to cast lightning and make him dwell on such insolence in the afterlife, but then had another thought. Opening the Grimoire, she began to flip through its pages while her prey backed away, frightened by her tone. He tripped over a display and struggled like a turtle turned onto its back. An evil smile crept across her face as she found a suitable spell. She began her chant, holding one hand over her head. A glowing green cloud of noxious evil appeared in her hand, growing from the size of a marble, past that of a baseball, to softball, then eventually dodgeball size. The youngster had taken his feet by then and stood transfixed by the cloud. She cast it in his direction. Instinctively he covered his head with his arms. She laughed. The laugh became a scream of horror as the spell bounced back, striking her in the chest and wrapping around her like spidersilk around a fly, binding her mind and body to serve the will of another.

Charlie was still feeling about half-dead as he made his way into the mall. He bought a large Gatorade at the Snack Shack to rehydrate, and downed the whole thing on the way to the bookstore. He tossed it in a trash can next to the bathrooms and headed into the shop. He felt a tingle as he entered. Probably an electrical fault, he guessed. Suddenly, he was confronted by the Bitch Goddess of Porn Purgatory, or such was his estimation. Her legs were sheathed in black leather mid-thigh boots with six-inch stilletto heels. Her torso was encased in a black corset-suit that shaped her body and put her very impressive breasts on a shelf for display, hinting at the nipples it almost concealed. Her hands were covered in shiny black gloves that ran most of the way to her shoulders, and the whole was surrounded by a floor-length black cloak, which she presently threw back over her shoulders to unveil herself. Her face wasn't too bad either, with fair skin that stood out starkly against the black, and flame-red hair tied up near the top then allowed to cascade down the unseen reaches of her back.

"Give me the grimoire!" she demanded.

The what? he thought, head still fuzzy, and the fact that this woman was diverting blood away from his already-abused brain wasn't helping things. "Oh, you mean this thing?" he asked, once his eyes noticed the book he was still carrying.

"Yes!" she said, in a voice like a horny pornstar.

"'Kay." he said. Having no desire to get killed by an evil sorceress in a futile attempt to keep the spellbook out of her hands, he handed it over immediately.

"Just like that?" she asked, surprised, but hugging the book as if afraid he would change his mind.

"Well, I can't use it, and it ain't worth having my balls banished to another dimension or something." he said. "Besides, I don't hit girls." As soon as that last sentence left his mouth, he knew it was the WORST thing he could possibly have said. Oh, shit! he thought as her pretty face twisted in rage.

"Impudent wretch!" she shrieked.

Oh, fuck me! he thought, backing away as she got ready to cast a spell. She decided to try one from the book instead of using her current favorite, however. He tripped over a display and ended up splayed out on the floor, scrambling to get his feet back under him as paperback bargain books slipped and beneath him. The sorceress's face took on one of those "Prepare for my Evil Vengeance" looks as she started to chant a spell. A nasty, green cloud appeared in her hand and started getting bigger. Charlie had just gotten his feet under him when she threw it. Instinctively, he covered his head. He felt something, like having a soft sponge-ball bounce off of him. The sorceress shrieked in horror.

That was the last thing he'd been expecting. A maniacal laugh, an evil cackle, or even "Booyah, beeyotch, how do you like them apples?" would have been within the realm of possibilities... but not a scream like she'd just been walked in on in the shower. By a mouse. With a gun. He opened his eyes and looked himself over. Nothing was changed, that he could see. He looked in the mirror on the display of reading glasses. Nope, still the same old average-looking Charlie. The spell hadn't even put a wart on his nose. He looked back at the porn goddess, and his jaw dropped. She was standing there, holding the book loosely, with one of those "the lights are on but nobody's home" expressions. In this case, it seemed literally true, as her eyes glowed the same placid blue as Charlie's glowstick. He waved his hand in front of her face, but she didn't respond.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes, Master." she said softly.

Master? He looked at the open page of the book. It was still the English of a very, very creative speller, but he managed to make out an educated guess of what the spell did. "Why were YOU affected by it?" he asked.

"Because the spell I cast was reflected back on me, Master." she replied. He started to laugh. His tattoo wasn't such a bad investment after all. It had protected him against the Bitch Goddess's spell, and given her a dose of instant karma!

"Let's go back to my place, babe." he said.

"Yes, Master." she said, and he felt a lurch as if the car of "The Tower of Terror" had just been released for its plunge, and then he was standing outside his dorm.

"Uh, for future reference, do you know a more pleasant transport spell?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good, use that next time."

"Yes, Master." she said. It being Saturday, most of the residents were out, but Walter Bigsby, the dorm's British doorman, was always on duty, like a kind of Right-Wing Inspector Gadget.

"Okay, bitch, make yourself invisible and follow me in."

"Yes, Master." she said, and chanted a spell that caused her to disappear. He went inside, hearing the click of her heels on the tile, and the stairs. Bigsby peered out of his booth, but saw nothing. Shaking his head, he went back to his book.

Back in his dorm room, he commanded his bespelled woman to resume her visible state. She obeyed, and stood still clutching the book, her eyes still glowing.

A prisoner in her own mind, Amelie could only watch herself obey, listen to her lips call him Master over and over. She was filled with a desire for vengeance, but unable to exert any control at all over her body. She was also terrified beyond belief. Her traitor lips would answer any question he asked of her. If he learned just how vulnerable she truly was... what would he do?

She prayed to any gods whose name she could think of that he had as little imagination as the other drunkards she'd encountered in her long, long life, that he would use her body like a pretty doll and leave it at that. Maybe then she could starve or die of dehydration and that would be the end of it, she'd be dead, but free at least.