Sally stroked a heavy stone of charred marble. She could use it to crush Rich’s skull right now.

But she already knew she wouldn’t.

Well then? She loved it when Lavinia made her lick her ass; she bet a million dollars Rich would love that.

“You’re not ready to see my pussy yet, boy,” she purred. “You’re going to spend a nice long time licking my ass. You’ll do a really good job.” He was panting, so yeah, good call.

Then, gritting her teeth against the night cold, hearing the scuffling of confused feet on the edge of the clearing, reminding herself that she just might be saving the world … she undid the top button of her jeans.

Rich’s hands twitched. On impulse, she snapped, “Why should I have to do anything? Undo these buttons. Nice and slow. Don’t get too eager.”

Lavinia’s voice spoke in her head, for the first time in several minutes. Bottoms make the best tops, she chuckled. Sally nearly sobbed with relief at the sudden support.

And the kid, who had lain paralyzed in some suspended state for decades, sat up eagerly, breathing hard, and reached with clumsy hands for her.

At the same moment, confused voices spilled into the clearing: the vampires, suddenly released from the spell when Rich sat up. Most spoke German (this was Germany after all) but there were French voices, one woman wailed in an Arabic-sounding language and one comically British voice said quite clearly, “Bloody ‘ell.”

Sally instinctively smacked the kid’s hands. He stopped, flushed with shame. But she smiled at him, said, “Slowly. Slowly,” and let her hand stroke his stubbly face with just a suggestion of suppressed power. Tapped his cheek with her fingertips.

She pushed to her feet, cursing her lack of grace, but lord she was tired. “On your knees before me is a good position for you. Now undo these buttons slowly and then wait for your next command.” Oh, she had his measure now. This was exactly what he could handle. He was with her, doting on every word. He reached forward with trembling hands.

Walter started to say something theatrical that might have ruined everything but a rustle of cloth told her that, thank goodness, Jesse had put a restraining hand on him. (Jesse’s bubbling breath was still painful to listen to.)

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The buttons were undone. Rich swayed on his knees, waiting. Aw god damn it, there were tears of gratitude in his eyes and he was hyperventilating. His dreams were coming true. She felt almost angry at him. And the thought of his scraggly face anywhere near her ass suddenly made her nauseated.

But she had to go on: without him as a conduit, the blessed silence continued and the horde of vampires were only confused people. Turning, she commanded, “Look but don’t dare touch, boy,” and pushed her jeans down.

Her panties were bland white and completely non-sexy but his hitching breath made hot puffs on her cold skin. “That’s what you’d like to bury your sniveling little face in, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“Yes, Lord,” he gasped, nearly crying.

“Well you don’t get that, not yet, maybe not ever unless you’re really good.” She pulled her pants up and buttoned them decisively shut, turned to see confusion and disappointment on his face.

“Before you can lick an ass that’s so perfect,” she said, reveling in the very delight she took in praising her own body, “You’re going to have to service these two gentlemen here.” She hoped they’d been paying enough attention to keep him engaged but not overwhelmed. And if that could happen, she could go down into that crypt and face whatever was there.

Jesse stepped forward again, angry but resolute. Walter opened his mouth to say something theatrical but Lavinia’s voice said. Can it for one more minute, tiger, I’m almost there.

Stunned and happy, Sally put her hand over Walter’s mouth, just as something … blurred.

The byplay between Sally and Walter had made Rich look around and see where he really was, the hated and dreaded place. His eyes went hollow, he shook. He was starting to remember just how he had gotten there. Something horrible was out there, it was coming!

But beloved Lavinia emerged powerful and glowing from the shadows. She was unmistakably herself as she walked to a Sally who this time did let herself sob with relief, brushed her knuckles approvingly against Sally’s cheek, motioned with her thumb towards the crypt, and planted herself squarely before the kneeling Rich, hands on her hips.

“Little fag boy,” she purred, “Naw, you don’t get to do them fag asses. You got a dyke here, a big bad dyke who’s got no love for jerkoffs like you. But,” and she grabbed his hair with an expert hand, “who don’t mind the thought of having a faggot tongue up her ass and who would just love to punish him if he fucks up.”

Sally understood how humiliating this was to Lavinia, to be talking like this to a male. As the kid slipped back into his fantasy and the power surging all around relapsed (what would have happened if he’d remembered everything?), she pressed her hands together in thanks and Lavinia mouthed the words she had spoken on the first night they met: will you get the fuck in there?

And so at last there was nothing left but to face whatever stirred below.

Suddenly Sally would have given anything to be pushing her pants down for a wet tongue, struggling only with revulsion and cold.