Spanking. She was spanking the man who had destroyed the world.

Just thinking about the inadequacy of the punishment made her smack harder. But she had to be careful: spank too hard and she’d shut him down again. The hundreds of vampires whose feet shuffled at the edge of the grove would be on her in seconds.

But as long as Rich was conscious and engaged, the conduit for the evil was shut.

Everywhere in the world, vampires paused.

In places where the sun shone, vampires in their coffins or in cellars or sewers or cramped dark cavities looked around and screamed with claustrophobia. In places where it was night, vampires milled, crouched staring, cursed or cried out names of lovers, husbands, wives. They stared hollow hopeless eyes into lit windows and wept. Some flung themselves into rivers or off of tall buildings.

Some shook with rage or reached for rifles or knives or clubs that they didn’t have. “Bastard, swine, filthy shit!” they shouted. “My life, my life!” one old woman wailed.

Peter, floating from lovemaking with Charity, plunged into the memory of his lost wife and unborn child. Amanda Malreaux gritted her teeth and managed to move a hand.

Sally, grim of face, haggard of eyes, spanked on, not knowing what else to do.

What was the evil which had come to Rich so many years ago? Some spirit of these evil trees? Something that had given rise to the legend of the ErlKing? Or the Slender Man? Something that had read Rich’s worst fears and presented itself in the form which would terrorize him the most. A phantom with no physical presence (unless Rich really had felt its boot and not a smooth stone when he awoke). Something that had herded him back here to this marble building…

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She had to do something else. She was holding things steady but her hand would wear out soon.

She was going to have to give of her own body. Damn it. She imagined pushing his face into her groin and snarling, “Lick my pussy, slave.” He’d probably love it and she could thrash and make noises even though she felt as erotic as a slab of beef.

Unless the kid really was gay? Could she draft Jesse and Walter? She’d seen his fantasies and they were all about being topped by men. But she sensed he only fantasized so because he couldn’t imagine a woman wanting him. She sighed.

Why the fuck not draft Jesse and Walter? “Jesse, Walter, get over here, now!” she hissed. In an instant they knelt beside her. But what should she say?

“I need…” she started.

She needed them to keep him engaged so she could go down into the crypt and face whatever was there. That was what she longed to do.

The darkness was down there and she, Sally Yan, would look it in the face without flinching, as she had done since she was twelve and held out a bowl of sticky rice to the lurching evil.

But, face red, she forced roleplay words to come out of her mouth. “This little scum has been very, very bad. I think he needs to be punished with a nice finger up his ass, and maybe a hard cock too, I think. Yes…”

Jesse’s mouth twisted above the reopened gash in his neck. He looked sick. Walter, though, looked eager to help and instantly said, “Yes, my dear, this lit-tull slave shall pay the price. He shall suck my cock like a good lit-tull slave.”

But his voice was too theatrically faggy. Sally could feel Rich’s energy ebb like he’d just been overstuffed with buzzing bees. And on cue the voices and laughter rose, dreary and predictable.

She quickly motioned a confused embarrassed Walter and a relieved Jesse back again, grabbed the kid’s long tangled brown hair and snarled with all the frustration she felt, “That’s what waits for you if you’re not as good as gold. But obey me, do what I tell you, and you’ll serve me. Hear me?”

Yes, this was what he wanted. His breath came in short little spurts. For all his fantasies about being punished by God, what he really wanted was just what she could offer him.

There was no way around it. She would have to let him pleasure her.

For the first time she seriously considered just crushing his skull.