An Ancient Score

[Cherubian]

”Know that during the reign of our divine king Meryre there lived the high priest Panhmoses. Strong was his stature, sharp his wit and complete his devotion to the gods he served. A grace he was to his office.

But as the years passed and he grew older a darkness got hold of his soul. No longer was he content merely to serve, instead he lusted for the power of the gods themselves. And so his study of the dark arts and forbidden scriptures began. Many a night he spent in a reclused tomb learning what no mortal was meant to see.

As he thought his efforts had borne fruit he gathered one thousand of his most devote followers in his sanctum in the desert. Around the tall obelisk of blackest obsidian they stood and they chanted for three days on end as they were bidden by him. And on the winter solstice in the middle of the third night the ritual was completed and truly he had managed to rip the essence of the gods from the heavens and invest himself with it.

Short lived was his celebration as the gods noticed the sacrilege, and with all their might they struck down on the heretic. Destroyed was his sanctum, and wiped from the Earth were his followers. Only his shattered remains were to be found in the ruins.”

Wall inscription in the tomb of pharaoh Meryre Pepi I.​

 

[Cherubian]

Sir Reginald Thornton was visibly in a good mood. He hummed a happy little tune as he stepped out of his car and began to ascend the stairs of his mansion in the Kensington Palace Gardens, his butler Winfred already expecting him at the entrance. And he had ample reason to be as happy as he was. Not only had his talks with Stanley Baldwin gone exceedingly well – the longer they knew each other the more open that man was for his thought out suggestions – but his assistant Bartholomew had hinted that he also had been successful that day. So he wordessly handed his hat to Winfred and let himself be helped out of his coat as he finally entered his home, eager to make it to his office. And off handed “That will be all for today” dismissed his servant as he wished to be undisturbed tonight.

He allowed himself a bit of indulgence in his vanity – his little vice as he called it – by shooting a short glance into one of the mirrors decorating the lobby, and indeed his vanity was justified. At 6'1” in his mid thirties, his appearance was imposing, his well built and muscular body perfectly accentuated by his expensive custom tailored suit. The gaze of his dark gray eyes piercing from under his short back hair was almost intimidating and just one hint of a powerful personality. But there was also a dark glint to them at this moment. Satisfied with what he saw he continued to his office.

Once inside he helped himself to a small Sherry before he sat down behind his expansive desk and rang for his assistant. It did not take long before Bartholomew arrived, a gangly man of average height with keen features and a sharp intellect, an efficient and useful servant valued by his master, currently clutching a leather binder to his chest with both arms. “Good Evening Sir Reginald” he greeted “I take it the meeting with the prime minister has been a success?” as he stepped closer.

“Oh, sure it has. Stephen is an intelligent man who can see reason.” There was an odd streak around his mouth as he said so. Wordlessly he motioned to the spot on the desk in front of him, and hurriedly his assistant placed the folder there and opened it, displaying the documents to be signed. “But you mentioned there might be another highlight this evening?” Reginald added, without looking up from the papers.

“Sure, sure” was the quick and eager reply. “You will be most satisfied. She appears to be the embodiment of innocence. I found her working in one of the public libraries, a lucky strike if I may say so.” His left hand pointed to the cord hanging from the wall to his masters left as he continued “Barry will begin on your signal.”

“Very well, I am sure you have outdone yourself again.” Reginald complimented his assistant as he closed the folder and handed it back. “I will not need you anymore tonight.” Without paying him any more attention he leaned back in his chair, the crystal goblet with the Sherry in one hand, barely noticing the smaller man's obedient departure as he savored the anticipation. Only briefly was his silent meditation interrupted, as he reached out for the cord, quickly tugged at it three times and then continued his reverie.

Almost a full minute he sat there, completely unmoving, before he got to his feet still holding the goblet and as if in trance started to stride out of the room down the hall and towards the dining room. Getting closer he could already hear the first noises, which immediately increased in volume as he entered. As soon as he had closed the door behind him he stopped for a moment to take in the scene before him.

For one there was Barry. At his core he was no more than a mean thug, built like a bull with a thick neck and already balding hair, extremely muscular arms and legs. Reginald had found him in Soho. While his capabilities were limited he was perfectly suited for this special task, and obviously enjoying it. He was wearing a dark gray turtleneck pullover and some tweed pants of similar color, although those pants were currently around his ankles. Before him, with her stomach pressed flat on the table was the other person in the room. She was a girl of pale complexion, not much older that eighteen, with blond, almost golden locks. Barry's one hand was clamped firmly around her neck, pressing her cheek onto the table such that her face was forced towards the door and looking at Sir Reginald, while the fingers of his other hand dug deeply into her hips, fixating her in place against the strong thrusts with which he drove his sizable manmeat into her from behind at an impressive pace. Her face would have been of an almost angelic beauty and innocence, if it would not twist into a grimace of pain and humiliation every time the brute behind her hilted himself into her folds.

Barry noticed his boss almost immediately, and his pounding came to a halt with himself buried completely inside her. “You gotta love tis one, boss. Best hooters I've evar seen” while he lifted her up by the neck and twisted her around still fully impaled on him, presenting a full frontal view. Reginald had to agree with him. Ignoring the pained and desperate look in her eyes his gaze was fixated on her magnificiently massive breasts with their huge nipples, which appeared almost displaced on that slender, close to frail body with its slim waist. Not much longer did he have the opportunity to admire her as his servant slammed her back down on the table and continued his incessant pounding with a leery “You'll have lotsa fun with'er, she's so tight.”

Indeed he would. But for now he reveled in the sight of such purity and innocence being brutally ravished. Later on he would have her himself, and his mouth watered at the thought of all the things he would do to her, but for now his eyes drank deeply in the scene unfolding in front of him. She was just perfect, Bartholomew had indeed outdone himself, everything about her was so ... but ... something ... no ... that was not possible!

At the same time as recognition struck the expression of agony on her face was instantly replaced by a wicked grin, oblivious to the phallus staccato she was still subjected to, and with her eyes firmly locked on his she spoke, spoke to him in the old tongue he had not heard for a long time. ”Greetings to you, Chantophtet. You are not easy to find, so all the happier am I that we have finally met.”

Sir Reginald Thornton – Chantophtet as he was known in long forgotten times – took a step back as his eyes widened in a mix of surprise and terror, as if he had seen a ghost. A ghost of ages past. ”Asmanefer?” It was a question as much as an ascertainment, as now he fully recognized that mysterious woman in front of him.

”The one and only” With an shove of one of her arms she sent Barry's hulking form hurtling across the room until he thudded into the wall behind her and crumpled to the floor, knocked out cold for now. Still smiling she got to her feet and faced him again, not caring about her state of undress as she most casually began to converse. “I knew all along that Parnossis could not have orchestrated the army of the British Empire to invade the Boers with just the prospect of a few almost worthless gold mines just so he would have ample support in hunting me down. Someone else must have pulled the strings from behind the scenes. You.” For a moment her gaze hardened on him, before she continued, nonchalantly as ever. “You are good at covering your tracks. It took me more than twenty years to find you, and the Great War did not make things easier. But here I am.” Her smile widened even more, into an almost comical caricature of a grin.

So that was what had happened to Parnossis, carrier of the essence of Ptah, probably the strongest man he had ever met. He had assumed that after having finished the task the fickle giant had simply wandered off to other adventures without notifying him, but there had always been that nagging doubt. A justified one, as it appeared now. ”Did you expect anything else from me?” he almost spat back, an unprecedented loss of composure for his standards ”after what you did to Themnoset? Hunting her down to harvest her like a hungry animal? Did you really think I would ever forgive?”

Asmanefer's expression changed, her grin was replaced by genuine sadness.”I had not thought so. Some people can never forgive. But I can not allow someone as resourceful as you to continue hunting for me. This has to end.” Her posture became more rigid, her gaze more intense with that last sentence.

Oh the audacity this woman had, sneaking into his most private sanctum, ambushing him like that. After all she had already done to Themnoset. He would have to take care of this millenia old matter himself at last, it seemed, And take care of it he would.

”Yes, and it will end. TONIGHT!”

He almost shouted the last word, and as he did so he simultaneously lifted his right hand in one rapid pull, causing the carpet below Asmanefer to rise and wrap around her. It would not hold her for long, but long enough. A quick flicker of his other hand sent the heavy cupboard next to him flying towards her at breakneck speed, intent on flattening her. But she must have seen that coming he realized as he perplexedly saw the bundle in the middle of the room crumple to the ground and the heavy piece of furniture rushing over it and missing it by a hair, noisily shattering upon impact on the opposite wall. And there was already a flash of bronze cutting through the rug, soon she would be free again.

Chantophtet wasted no time and quickly reached for one of the claymores tucked to the wall behind him. He was a careful and paranoid man and had kept the old swords in prime condition, something that paid off now. As his hands closed around the hilt of the comfortingly heavy weapon he could already see her emerging from the crumpled and cut up remains of the carpet, her bronze Khopesh now held in one hand. Another quick twist of one of his hands, and the big and heavy dining room table started to lift, somersault and plop down on her, but just like that she had managed to quickly roll to the side, evading the impact. Oh how fast she was, the stories about her were true.

He did not have much time left, he knew, and he started one last ditch attempt. In a masterpiece of coordination he managed to send two other heavy cupboards hurtling towards her from both sides as he charged, ready to deliver a devastating blow with his blade. But when he was closing in she met his charge, deflecting his strike with one quick parry and rushing by him as the two missiles collided behind her. As he was about to turn and face her again he felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest, and looking down he saw the blood soaked tip of her sword protruding from it. His strength immediately started to leave him, and he sunk to his knees, the claymore clattering to the floor from his limp grip. One last time he managed to turn his head and look up, look her straight into the face with the final and irrevocable realization that it was over as her blade withdrew from his torso and came around in one swift and precise arc, cutting through tendons, muscle and finally bone as it severed his head from his body.

 

[Cherubian]

Asmanefer hesitated for another moment as she looked at the corpse before her, blood still gushing out of the cut off neck onto the parquet. One twist of her hand and her Khopesh vanished as quickly and quietly as she had conjured it moments before. He had fought to the end, but now it was over. Really over. The master had followed his pawn Parnossis into oblivion. But one thing remained to be done, and there was no use nor desire pushing it off any longer. Slowly, gracefully she knelt down besides his lifeless form and reached out with her hand, until finally she made contact.

Immediately the essence started to flow, and she closed her eyes savoring the moment. There had been a time when she would have done almost anything for this rush, this surge of power and strength. That time was over, and these moments had become rare, probably for the better. All the more precious they were, and too quickly they were over. She rose again, and another thought occurred to her, one that made her grin wickedly again. There was yet another unfinished business.

Still stark naked she stepped over the debris the once exquisite furnishing of the dining room had turned into and towards Barry's unconscious form on the floor. Elegantly she kneed down and lightly she slapped his face, until his eyes opened again. First they widened with shock at her sight, the memory of her sending him flying across the room still all too present. Then he took in the remaining scenery and his jaw dropped at the carnage he witnessed, at last turning his attention wordlessly back to her, unsure of what else she would do to him. What he definitely did not expect was what she asked next.

“I am glad you are awake again. We got so rudely interrupted just when things got interesting, but I am sure you are gentleman enough to finish what you have begun, aren't you?” She gave him her sweetest smile as if nothing bad had occurred between the two of them. “But maybe we should retreat to one of the bedrooms, this hall is just one big mess now.”

All Barry could do was to look at her completely and utterly dumbfounded.

 

[Cherubian]

Asmanefer strode through the nightly streets of London towards the harbor, her steps echoing off the cobblestones. It had taken a bit of convincing to make it clear to Barry that yes, indeed she wanted for him to continue pounding her as viciously as before, and then it had required a bit more attention from her mouth to get his frightened tool back into working condition, but finally he had found back into it and had delivered, multiple times. It had been quite the fun, in particular since she no longer had to pretend anything. Fortunately the mansion was so remote and Sir Reginald had made sure none of the personnel were present that night, which gave them all the time in the world. When she finally was satiated she had also explained to Barry that should he ever tell anyone anything about what had transpired that night, or should he ever mistreat a woman again she would return, and that would not be pleasant for him. He had gotten that point for all she could tell.

Finally she had successfully searched the estate for Chantophtet's ample cash reserves, and for some spare clothing as her own had been ripped to shreds in the beginning of the evening. Now all that was left was to book a passage on the next ship leaving Europe, no matter where it went. She preferred to switch continents after a harvest, as a routine precaution, and as she got closer to the docks she wondered where fate would bring her next.

 

[DormantEvil]

Spain had proven to be a hive of underground slavery networks, a hidden problem when considering hot spots around the world. It was disgusting how openly one could inquire about such matters, especially since many of the food or market stalls knew where one was. Not all were up market establishment like London's underground had, but they often kept their 'slaves' in putrid conditions. Hair was left unwashed, clothing covered in grease. Belly's empty for entire days before a small morsel of food might have been offered. It really did seem as though even a single coin spent on them would in the end make them too expensive. Amuulet had wandered through the cages, jumping from one to the other. Her tail flicking around nervously when adults came through to look upon the children and young adults housed in such cruel confines. Often she wished to instantly pounce on the men, and women who looked at what the Merchant offered.

Frail and pale, the innocence of a young blue eyed and blond haired girl no older than ten years of age. Captured weeks ago and reported missing by her English parents.

Rebellious and full of fire, the scruffy haired eighteen year old boy who spat at anyone passing. Most laughed though, and the lash marks across his bare back showed his determination not to submit. Amuulet had stood on the top of his cage watching in this display and hissed when a passerby tried to lower his pants around the boy. Aiming to urinate on him no doubt, considering how dangerous getting anywhere near him would have been. The man had been surprised and backed off, and with a purring sound she had rolled over and made the boy settle down for a while. Hopefully to save him from another whipping.

Soon one of the girls in a cage stacked one on top of the other started to weep. A little dark skinned child, her hair matted and unkempt covered her face. Brown eyes stared out fearful of the world. It made Amuulet wish to turn into her larger feline form and tear that Merchant to shreds. But doing so in front of the children wouldn't aid in their recovery.

Leaping up onto her cage, she had reached a paw through and started messing with the child's fuzzy hair. For a while she simply swatted the paw away, but soon, after realizing that Amuulet wasn't going away, she started to play back. Giggling softly. That noise was a heavenly note to the little cats ears, and soon she curled up and snoozed with the child, purring to keep her company.

A bucket of water rose her from her sleep, the Merchant standing over her with a sinister glare on his face. "Shoo you stupid cat, you're scaring off my customers!" And with that he picked her up and suffered a bitten finger before throwing her out into the street. Where she landed on her feet, looked back at him and growled before sprinting off down between the market stalls.

That had been several hours ago, and now Amuulet waited in the shadows. Her amber eyes glowed in the darkness, the colour imitating her coat as she lay in wait. Prowling through the quieter market. The thin walls of the Merchants tents were nothing compared to the sharpness of her claws. The lion, yes, male, sliced through the fabric and slipped inside. There was no light, but he could see clearly. His large mane bristling around with anticipation. Each footstep was silent, and soon he had made his way down the rows of sleeping children, some in newer states of disarray. The sounds coming from the back room where the filthy Merchant slept were sickening. Screams and wails of an animal in pain, it drove her animal senses mad. But she slunk forward, keeping low, stalking meter by meter until she could see what was happening as clear as day.

The Merchant stood naked, his hands tightly gripping the body of a young boy. Bent over the table, Amuulet was saddened to see that it was the rebellious boy from before. Savage was the Merchant in his penetrative act, and the boy was helpless to do more than cry out. With hands bound, Amuulet was surprised he still made such noise even through a makeshift gag. Did nobody in this district care?

"This will teach you to bite buyers, you pathetic little bastard. I might just keep you, because you feel so good." The Merchant spoke deeply, leaning forwards to hilt himself into the boy deeply causing much distress on the victims face. And he whispered into his ear, a slimy tongue running up the boys tear stained cheek.

Instantly Amuulet let out a guttural growl, and just as instantly the two humans froze. And as the Merchant turned, Amuulet roared loudly. Shaking the tent in its foundations. The man went pale, and started to stammer, pulling his now limp member from the boy and stumbled backwards. The boy lay perfectly still, a smart move on his part. And instead the lion focused in on the Merchant. For each step he took back, she waited and then with naturally quick reflexes she sprinted forwards and leaped through the air. Her front paws tearing into the mans flesh as she hugged him, her weight driving him to the ground with little protest. His wailing was on par to that of the boys, but showed much more cowardice. And as she looked down over his body, she felt nothing but hate for him. Two slashes was all it took to open his stomach and spill his entrails across the ground. And whilst he lay there in agony she simply watched. Waiting until his eyes began to glaze over before taking his throat into her mouth and ripping it from his body. She dropped the lump of flesh on his chest without ceremony, and walked away. Crimson stains dotted the lions mane as it walked around proudly. Soon she came face to face with the boy, who was frozen with fear. And with a low sound reserved as a sign of affection in lions, she raised a paw to tear through his bindings, freeing his wrists. And then she left him to recover, and waited in the doorway. Occasionally she let out a grumble, wanting him to follow her. So he could release the other children. And before the Merchants body lay cold, a lion walked through the streets trailed behind by frightened and abused children.

But that had been many years ago, and now these children were strong. They had seen their rescuer change into a young beautiful woman, who bathed them, fed them and cared for them like they were her cubs. And whenever they were harmed or in danger she would defend them with passionate brutality. They were hers. Some had asked to be released from her care, and if they were intent on it then she allowed it. But many remained at her side, intent on helping her continue her work.

And that was how a little blond haired, blue eyed girl came to sit on the docks outside a notorious hive of slave activity in London. A little black cat curled up in her lap. The girls eyes were big, blue, and bright. These days she was well groomed, and she had grown into a well rounded eighteen year old. However she looked younger, perhaps maybe sixteen. She was the perfect bait. Nobody could deny that. And she seemed content to watch the boats floating about in the calm swell. Amuulet had been keeping an eye on her when she noticed an old acquaintance. Her 'daughter' innocently kicked her little legs back and forth, as if enjoying the fresh air. Oblivious to the danger she was in, already men peered from shop windows. They began wondering what price she would fetch if delivered to one of the slave traders. Yawning, the little black cat hopped up and nuzzled her child before walking off, the girl following behind closely. Hunting was over for today, and they slowly followed Asmanefer from a distance. To be honest, Amuulet wanted to test the womans senses. Noticing one among thousands would be difficult. Perhaps she would go unnoticed. But then again, how often does one get followed around by a black cat and a blond haired blue eyed girl all day.

 

[Cherubian]

Her subconsciousness picked up on it first. A pattern was emerging in the people around her that was repeating itself in unusual ways and with unlikely probability, and a warning sign was raised inside her head, a soft slightly uncomfortable nagging feeling at the back of her awareness that something was not as it was supposed to be. Being persecuted for millennia tended to sharpen one's instincts beyond mere perception, and now they were kicking in.

Once Asmanefer felt that something was wrong she acted accordingly. Originally her destination had been the harbor master's office to inquire about her new destination, but that had to wait. She took a turn to the left, and then another to the right, not varying her moderate pace and just casually looking over the part of the street she was just leaving on every turn. A few more turns like this and she had come full circle, but still that speck of blond hair could be seen behind her, just a harmless girl and her cat it appeared, but then why had she been there whenever Asmanefer went around a corner?

She began to process that information. It was evident she was being followed, but she could not see anyone else. And the girl did not make any effort to hide, almost as if she wanted to advertise her presence, quite a strange behavior. Had Chantophtet's corpse already been found, and was whoever he had cooperated with already on her track now after she had been able to keep a low profile in London for years? Unlikely, but she had to find out before boarding a ship and broadcasting her destination.

So after her next turn she acted. As soon as she was around the corner and out of sight she rushed ahead a few yards into a little side alley no more than six yards deep with house entrances on both sides, her back pressed flat against the cool stone wall, and her eyes directed on the street in front of her, every muscle taut now. She did not have to wait long until that same blond haird young woman passed by her, unaware of the predator lurking in the shadow. But that predator did not mean any harm, not yet. Instead she stepped out into the street again, falling in step directly behind her, and then with a soft voice asked the back of the head in front of her "Say, what is an innocent young girl like you doing out alone in the streets? Particularly in the docks, at this time of the night?"

 

[DormantEvil]

The young girl jumped at the voice and quickly turned around, although she stood her ground and fought the urge to move backwards. They were rather confident children, especially when Amuulet was around in some shape or form. Holding up her hands, she waved them to show she meant no danger and explained herself. "I just follow who she tells me too, and speak to those who might have information. She is following you, not I." Normally someone might wonder if the child was mad, except in response to her conversation the little black cat moved past Asmanefer's legs with a soft rubbing and disappeared into the alleyway nearby. The girl followed, removing a dress from the bag she carried on her back.

In the shadows there was a crackling sound, and after a minute the rustling of fabrics and murmering of voices. And then, a familiar face wearing nothing but a short dress moved out of the shadows and into the street lights. She smiled, her long black hair and brown eyes brightly sparkling from her own amusement.

"It has been many years, Asmanefer, I hope they have been as good to you as they have for me. Are you still on good behaviour?" Her delight in seeing her old friend was apparent as she offered her arms wide in greeting.

"I'll apologize for following you, but your senses appear as keen as ever. Its good to see."

The girl, who was yet to speak another word passed across a pair of heels, and Amuulet quickly slipped her feet into them. London's streets were not the best for walking on bare foot. She had slipped into underwear, but her legs were tanned and free of stockings or tights. Most women would find it crude in this day and age to show so much skin. Thanking the girl, she introduced her new friend to her old friend.

"This is Ashleigh, she helps me in my endevours, she is one of my brightest students. And is evidently as strong in her beliefs as I."

At hearing her name, the girl's attention was focused on the introduction and she bowed her head. But she also showed a great deal of pride in hearing her described in such a way. She was curious who this other woman was, but stayed quiet.

 

[Cherubian]

A black cat with human retainers? An old memory surfaced back in Asmanefer's mind as the feline departed into the alleyway...


Bahia, 1811

Asmanefer – or Arantxa as she had called herself at that time – felt the rays of the morning sun wakening her from peaceful slumber as they poured in through the large window and bathed the white sheets of the large bed in some almost unnatural light. She opened her eys, staring at the white ceiling above her and stretched her arms, the movement causing the bedsheet to slip from her bare upper body.

There was breathing to her right, and a quick turn of her head confirmed that Pedro... no, Pablo's dark and heavy form was still there, barely covered, asleep and resting after the events of the night. She chose not to wake him, and instead rose herself, the last sheets sliding off her naked body as she got up and strode out of the bedroom, directing her bare feet over the tiles towards the dining hall.

And there she stood, tanned and dark haired, a stark contrast to her own exceedingly fair complexion, and turned dark eyes to meet her own, returning the morning greetings. Her new but very old friend, Amuulet...


And just at this very moment she came back out of the alley, not having changed a bit during the last hundred years. Immediately they were in each others arms, hugging tightly in an unexpected but very welcome reunion.

Finally she withdrew a bit, looking her friend over again silently for a few moments, before she spoke – in English out of respect for the girl “It has been all too long. Good behavior? That depends on whom you ask, for some I never was.” Which was true in more than one respect. “But I see your habits have not changed much over the years, either.”

Finally her attention was on the girl, and she held out her hand in greeting. “Ashleigh it is? If you are her friend, then you are mine as well.” carefully not giving away any names, unsure about how much Amuulet had told them.

 

[DormantEvil]

The reunion was a good one, but would have to be taken somewhere more private for them to talk more openly. Even if London's streets were quiet at this time of night, especially where Asmanefer had led them. Returning the hug, it seemed as though Amuulet found the other womans joking reply amusing. But then again, she was not naive to the comings and goings of men and women to visit the old warrior. In fact, when they had spent time together, she had shown remarkable stamina, if Amuulet remembered correctly. Walls were only so thick, and only so capable of muffling sounds.

"She knows all about me, as is the trust we share. But I'd prefer we moved somewhere quieter. Do you have a place in town, I merely rent an apartment on occasion. We could go there, catch up, perhaps drink and eat a while. Unless you are in a hurry, or one business, far be it from I to interfere or slow you down on a mission."

She laughed loudly, before walking slowly to the end of the alleyway. Gaining a few looks from passing strangers as she brushed a hand through her hair and licked her lips. Oh how she enjoyed playing with the minds of people. Turning, she pointed back away from the docks. "I live about four blocks that way, nice and close to the docks, I'm sure you already suspect why."

Ashleigh had taken the womans hand and shaken it several times before letting go, she greeted her briefly and thanked her for the 'acceptance', but said little else. She still showed some discomfort around strong people, and Asmanefer radiated strength.

 

[Cherubian]

Asmanefer just nodded, yes a more private place would definitely be preferred.

“Actually” she therefore replied, gesturing in the general direction of the Thames and the ships docking there “I was about to leave town, so I no longer have a place of my own to stay. But now there is a good reason to change plans.” a happy smile crept across her face at the thought. At times there was even some twisted sort of fun to be had in her friends work. “So let's head to your apartment. That place surely is as good as any, and better than most.” Or Amuulet would not have chosen it, she thought to herself. And yes, she suspected why. Although she had not had much contact with London's underworld during her stay in the city, being mostly focused on that one target, even she had learned where the shadier elements concentrated to conduct their business.

Mustering the other girl, Ashleigh, for a bit. That one had very good instincts, the way she reacted to her. Not many were so perceptive. But that was nothing to muse over now. Instead she linked arms with Amuulet, ready to go. “Lead the way, then, I'll be right with you.”

 

[DormantEvil]

"This way then," she started before turning them back towards the main streets of London. Since the docks were a well known slavery spot, she had purchased an apartment that overlooked the district, for a reasonable price. And as they walked along the cobblestones, she cast her gaze over Asmanefer. The woman was unchanging physically, but Amuulet could tell that she still had that fire inside her, yet was managing it well. In the early days, even Amuulet had feared the notoriously brutal warrior, but time gave birth to wisdom and luckily the same habits that controlled Asmanefer back then no longer dictated her actions. She was still powerful, more so than Amuulet ever would be unless she gained more power from dead members of the Thousand. And there was a lot of years to make up for it she decided to try.

No, Amuulet was content in her own work, at her own level of power not to wish the death of her own kind.

They made their way down the main street that led to the docks, and turned to a set of old rusty stairs that worked their way up the outside of a tall building. At the top Amuulet stopped to unlock the door to her apartment, before stepping aside for them to enter. Inside several other 'friends' waited. Several were but children, others now adults of similar physical appearance age wise to that of Amuulet and Asmanefer.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. These are Ashleigh's brothers and sisters, and my children."

Closing the door behind them, Amuulet moved off into the dining room of the largish apartment, indicating for Asmanefer to follow. Putting the kettle on to boil, she placed two china cups down onto the table and looked over at her old friend.

"It is very good to see you again, more so than I can put into words I suppose."

The apartment itself was clean, and silks and satins had been shipped in to make it more homely and comfortable for the born Egyptian. The bedrooms were fitted out with single bunk beds in one, and a large king sized bed in the other. Where her children stayed with her on many occasions. There was a good sized bathroom, with a large bath with overhead shower. And a pair of double windows looked out over a balcony and the river, and bay.

 

[Cherubian]

Asmanefer started to muse over her current situation as she walked alongside her friend. Some part of her screamet at her to not do this, to quickly leave the city, best even the continent. She had just slain another of their diminishing ranks. And however justified her actions were this time, her reputation earned by past deeds could likely overshadow this. But fortunately some persons were willing to look past transgressions and see her for what she was today. Like Amuulet... There were very few she could truly call 'friend', and she was one of them. Which was why she savored this unexpected opportunity and was willing to take the risk associated with it.

On her hosts beckoning she sat down at the table, a gentle smile on her face as she surveyed her surroundings, looking at Amuulet's other protegees and studying their reaction to her. "Indeed it is. More than words can say."

Nodding at the surroundings she added "But I see you made yourself quite comfortable here. Not very british. But very pleasant. And you have been busy" another nod at the children and young adults surrounding them "still fighting the good fight." There was no mockery in her tone as she said so. She appreciated, even admired the other woman's dedication to her cause. Amuulet had found a worthy goal, something that would carry her through the centuries and give a purpose to her existence. Something Asmanefer had not truly found yet.

Snapping out of these brooding thoughts she added "Since when have you been operating in London?"

 

[DormantEvil]

Pouring two cups of tea, she placed the teapot on a tray in the middle of the table. The silver tray housed a bowl of cubed sugar, a little jug of fresh cream along with another of milk as some preferred. Amuulet pulled her chair in as she sat down, and smiled across at her friend. Still finding the woman remarkable, and 'glowing'. Not literally, but physically, Asmanefer looked stronger but the years played tricks on the mind. No doubt since they had last met the fighter had harvested some more essence, hopefully through better means than her past ways. But the fresh harvest aura was still abundant on the woman, and it caused Amuulet to wonder if very recently a Thousand, here in London, had been slain.

"I've been here for about nine months, South Africa before that, Chile before that. I think I've seen most countries of major interest already...I wish this planet would hurry up with the space race. If I am to live for another couple of century's, this world may get a little boring."

Laughing, she remembered the times when they would enlist in wars just for the exercise and excitement. How battles changed over the years. First with swords and chariots, then mounted with lances and spears, onto marching in stupid lines into cannon fire. And lastly, the tanks, helicopters and bombs of the World Wars. War was a constant they could always spend time in.

Looking around the room she grinned, remembering a similar conversation when they had met very soon into their friendship. Yes, still fighting the good fight.

"It always helps to make like more comfortable, but its more for the new children than it is for me. Something about the charm and exotic nature helps them take their minds off things. Just between us, I miss some of the firsts the most though. Even their burial places have been lost to the years."

Taking her cup of tea, which was now warm enough to drink without burning her palate, Amuulet sipped silently. So many of her mannerisms were that of a well educated, polite and delicate woman. It shocked many of the children to learn that she could also tear men limb from limb in savage beastly rage.

"Have you had any luck recently?" she queried, leading Asmanefer into a conversation where she might explain her fresh 'aura'.

 

[Cherubian]

For a moment Asmanefer looked at Amuulet a bit puzzled. It was just too much of a coincidence to ask exactly that question right now. But then she remembered. Her friend was the most perceptive of the Thousand she had ever met, and even her own extremely sharp senses paled in comparison, at least when that intangible, supernatural element was concerned. She guessed Amuulet was able to literally see the aura of a person, and it might very well be that there was still something about her that gave away her recent encounter, or rather the way it ended. Besides, it was not that she intended to harbor any secrets regarding this, not when talking to her friend.

So as she lifted her own cup to her mouth, poised to take the first sip, but for now only watching the steam as it rose from the hot liquid, she replied “I am not sure I would call it ‘luck’” She had long since lost the enthusiasm that let her revel in the sheer carnage and destruction of a battle. A very wise man had said to her ages ago “It takes a true warrior to understand the value of peace” and by now she had learned to comprehend the meaning of that sentence. She was far from being a pacifist, but for her violence was no more than a tool - a dangerous tool that could lead to a lot of suffering - to be used as effective as possible and without any emotions attached. “You are right in your assumption, though. Just an hour ago I settled a very long lasting dispute with Chantophtet.” Even though Amuulet trusted her children, she was still loathe to divulge more details on that subject in what she considered public, although she was curious to learn whether her friend had been aware of that other’s presence in the city.

 

[DormantEvil]

Laughing politely, Amuulet breathed in deeply, she had missed talking with Asmanefer. She always did have an interesting way of speaking, and of acting. It was a pleasure to be with her. Placing her cup down, she thought about her wanderings over the past few weeks. There had been one feeling, of someone with a spark. But it hadn't been very easy to get details of.

"You've never been one to need luck anyway, you make your own perfectly fine."

Standing up, she pushed her chair in and took her empty china cup to the sink. Turning her back to wash it out slowly and methodically. Thinking carefully. The image flashed back to her as she urged it to resurface in her mind.

Marcos and Ashleigh had been undercover, walking the streets arm in arm, playfully laughing like teenagers did. Both appeared slightly intoxicated, and Ashleigh had politely taken the boys jacket to cover her shoulders. He wore good jeans, a clean shirt and a tie. His hair was well groomed as was his face, and he kept a good form. She had opted for a nice red number, and a pair of heels. A date night, or so it seemed.

The shadows concealed the small black form as it followed behind them, close enough to see everything in detail, but far enough away not to draw attention. Unfortunately London was proving good at noticing small details like the constant prowling of a blond girl, with a little black cat. Twice now the men who had been sent out to investigate hadn't returned.

The two kids reached a T intersection, laughed some more, had a little hug and kiss before turning to head down to the right.

Reaching the intersection, Amuulet paused. Her keen senses picked up footsteps to the left, and she quickly ran under a car to watch. Flattening herself into the still warm road. The British Museum was just up the block, not more than a few hundred meters away. On the curb, a sleek black car was parked. Its engine was idling. Like it was waiting for something.

More footsteps grew louder and then grew softer as someone walked right past the car she hid under, his pace one of having somewhere to go. She tried to spy his appearance, but could only see his back. Following him carefully, she slunk closer to the black car. Suddenly she spied a shadow in the backseat, and soon her eyes widened as she noticed he had the same aura as the other Thousands did.

Now her eyes strained to see details, but it was no use. She was more than a block away, and even with her cat sight, she only saw the basics.

The driver got out of the car, opening the back door to let the man who had walked closer inside. Closing it, he then stepped back into his driver seat and the car quickly took off. Had she been spotted?

No...she was well hidden. Even when they could sense her if they spied her form.

She knew what the driver looked like, and many of the passengers features, but the figure in the back was cloaked in darkness. Unidentifiable. All but the shadow were plainly male...but the person in the back was anyones guess.

A scream down the street brought her back to her original duty, and she quickly covered the ground to find Marcos on the ground, and Ashleigh pushed up against a car. Three men seemed to be finding them very interesting indeed. But as expected, Marcos quickly got control of the situation again...he had been trained in South America. He knew unarmed fighting very well. The perfect undercover bodyguard.

Placing her cup down, she turned and sat down across from Asmanefer again. Keeping quiet, so as not to draw attention to the conversation.

"I knew there was one of us here, besides me. But didn't know who, it was only a passing feeling. I couldn't see them at all. Perhaps it was Chantophtet.

So you finally settled that long lasting score?"

 

[Cherubian]

Asmanefer led the cup back to her mouth again, the thin porcelain lightly touching her tender lips as she took another sip from it before carefully placing it back on the saucer that stood on the table. As her fingers left the handle she looked up again, right into Amuulet's eyes, her own dark pupils fixated on them for seconds before she finally replied. "Yes, as I just said that issue is resolved ... permanently." She felt a strange unease talking about such matters, even to her best friend. Maybe it was just out of a lingering feeling of guilt for her past transgressions.

Leaning into the chairs backrest, her hands dropping to be folded in her lap, she continued still half lost in thoughts, her eyes now absent mindedly tracing all over the room "And I am quite sure there are more of ... our kind here in London. The Empire would not have reached it's height without such support, but I wonder how they will fare now that Chantophtet and Parnossis are no more." With that the notion was dismissed by her, not crediting whatever Amuulet had seen with more importance than she thought it deserved.

"But" her voice rose in volume and her tone became more cordial and open again as she stretched her arms to both sides into the air, hands clenched into fists in an attempt to revitalize her weary muscles by stretching "it has been a long day, and I think some rest would do me a lot of good. Do you have a place for me to ... sleep?" There was an odd emphasis on the last word, and one corner of her mouth twitched up in a hint of a grin. The apartment was cramped, and quite a few of its inhabitants were grown up by now. Amuulet had made rather special arrangements on occasion when they first had stayed together, so there was a good chance she would get a spot to lie down, but not yet find an opportunity to sleep.

 

[DormantEvil]

The night was creeping onwards, and soon it would be early morning, and then before too long it would be dawn. Time never stopped, not even when you had an unlimited length of it to experience. For now she smiled at her friend, it was obvious that little statement was meant as more than just a request to use a guest bed for sleeping in. But she was happy to grant her guest star treatment, very happy. Especially to mark the reunion, Amuulet would have been gravely disappointed to sleep any other way. From their past minglings, it had never been a dull moment.

"I suppose my question now will be how you prefer me? Because there will be no other bed you share tonight but mine."

Asmanefer knew that Amuulet could appear in many forms. Of course, it was reasonable to assume that she wouldn't want to bed a lion...even though it was more than requestable if the assumption was wrong. But what shape would she prefer? Male or female? Big and strong? Soft and supple? Loud or quiet?

From what she could remember, Asmanefer had enjoyed a few of her forms before.

Standing up, she pushed her chair back in and moved to her bedroom. Sending a few girls out to paint their toenails someplace else. Checking that the bathroom was free of people, she looked into the mirror and began to change. Removing all her clothing, she stood naked on the cold white tiled floor.

Soon her tanned features broadened, and she took on a handsome masculine appearance. Her shoulders broadened, and her chest flattened and toned itself into a generous six pack of abdominal muscles. Her long hair shortened but stopped just above her shoulders, and her lower half changed lastly. Replacing her soft smooth hips and thighs with strong thick legs, a firm toned ass and a good side of well endowed manhood.

Asmanefer had met her in the form of 'Amanuel' before. But it had been briefly, and not of the sexual nature. Taking a large robe off the back of the door, 'he' pulled it around his shoulders and made himself comfortable on the bed.

It was easy enough to tell he was one of the Thousand, and to a close few, that it was still Amuulet. Thanks to a small birthmark that always showed up just below her left earlobe. It was her brand.

 

[Cherubian]

"As mylady commands." Asmanefer watched as Amuulet ensured some privacy for them by sending the inhabitants of her bedroom elsewhere, and when her friend left for the bathroom she herself rose to her feet, sliding out of her coat and leaving it on the chair as she did. All she wore now was the dress she had found in Chantophtet's mansion, undoubtedly there for one of his female toys. Even for the rather progressive era that were the 1920ies it was bordering on the scandalous, plain and white but rather revealing with a low cut, a sizable cleavage and reaching no lower than mid thigh. Clearly it's main purpose was the entertainment of the estate's owner and not public decency. It hugged her slender form rather tightly, making it all the more apparent hat Asmanefer had not bothered to search for underwear. High heeled sandals were the only other clothing item she wore.

In the door frame she turned one last time to smile at the various inhabitants of the apartment, some smiling back, some confused, some bewildered, and even what might be interpreted as an occasional pang of jealousy. For a moment she wondered who of them had already shared their benefactor's bed, but then she let go of that thought. It was simply no matter of hers. So she finally closed the door and turned, alone in the room except for Amuulet – or rather Amanuel – whom she was facing now. "How I prefer you?" She took a step towards the bed, her hips swaying slightly, and her heavy breasts without the support of a bra jiggling noticeably under the thin fabric "Have you already forgotten?" Now the corners of her mouth formed a mischievous grin "Or are you merely polite in case my unusual tastes have changed during the last hundred years? If that was your question, well, they have not"

Out there in the world, in her struggle against her own reputation and all the other Thousand after her, either for revenge or other reason, Asmanefer was the epitome of strength, hard, tough, unwavering, ever vigilant, a precise harbinger of death. But everyone needs a reprieve at times, and so did she. Her chosen place for that change of pace was the bedroom, where she longed for an opportunity to let go and have someone else pick up the lead, where she would rather be taken than take herself, be used rather than use herself. In a way even her hardened body could feel to the fullest. And what better opportunity was there for that than with one of the few people she fully trusted.

She had reached the edge of the bed now, and was lowering herself on the floor right next to it, her legs tucked to the side as her behind touched the soft carpet. Placing her lower arms flat on the bed and resting her chin on her folded hands she looked up into Amanuel's handsome face, and almost a bit dreamy she added "Just in case you really have forgotten, I want you to show me the ropes, to be strong, authoritarian and tell me what to do. Not too gentle, either." She paused for a moment. There was something else, something she had thought about even when they had last met, but not spoken about yet. But why delay it even further, and miss the opportunity again? With a sparkle in her eyes she added "And I have been wondering if we could ... add your nonhuman form into the mix."

 

[DormantEvil]

Depending on the form she inhabited, Amuulet often found her urges changing, although after so many years of experiencing the different moods she could control herself easily. In male forms she found herself feeling more instinctual, more demanding and wanting to control the room. Her female forms were always more subtle, fitting in yet playing up her strengths in agility, diplomacy and seductive reasoning (as she liked to call it). Those were at least how she felt when in human form. As an animal, it was about 60% instinct and she used her will simply to control herself enough not to cause too much damage. She could think, but it was still a primal calculation. She knew her goal, but her actions proved very animalistic.

Looking down at the face of what must have seemed to many a man as that of an angel, delicate, soft and supple, he knew that his dominance was purely fictitious. And that Asmanefer could, at any time, decide not to give in to his wants and commands. But until then, he enjoyed the idea of dominating the warrior woman. The bedroom would be the only place, outside of other private locations where he could sexually demand something from her, that she would accept it. At least that it what he supposed.

Undercover might be another place, but even then it would be another performance. Nothing more.

Shifting on the bed, he took Asmanefer's chin in hand and lifted her face upwards so he could gaze into her beautiful green eyes uninhibited. If she looked back, it would be obvious that he was filled with desire. Never had Amuulet been disappointed after sharing her bed with this woman. How she would pleasure this form sent shivers up Amanuels spine.

Leaning down, his lips claimed hers without the restriction and control Amuulet usually showed in bed. Pressing into her mouth, his tongue found hers, and almost animalistically he pushed her back away from the bed. His body following her, whilst the hand that held her chin moved around to the back of her neck. His fingers curling their way into a nice grip around her smooth strands of blond hair.

Laying her down on the carpet of the bedroom, his free hand moved up her side, over her dress which left very little to the imagination. Firmly cupping one of her large breasts, he enjoyed how ample and full they were. Massaging the flesh, his fingertips meticulously worked her nipple. His toned right thigh found the warmth between hers, and he used it to pin her waist to the floor. Making good use of his size, he knew she would notice how aroused he was beginning to get, even under the bathrobe.

He aimed for any uncovered skin of hers to feel the prickle of the carpet fibres digging into her skin, as his weight pressed down on her.

He pinched down, pulling her nipple and stretching it further away from her body until he got a reaction. Then he would roll it around for a few seconds, enjoying any sounds she made, before letting go. All the while his mouth never left hers, and his tongue didn't relent. At the back of her neck, his fist held her head back, exposing the soft pale flesh of her neck. Which he would soon pay more attention. He made sure to be firm in this grip, showing how he wanted her to be almost incapacitated in that position whilst he enjoyed her.

"So you would like to have me inside you, as something other than human?" he whispered into her ear, breaking from his passionate kiss to look over her exposed neck. His voice had lowered, and showed interest in this idea. Many times had Amuulet wondered what taking someone in her male or female animal forms would feel like.

His lips suckled from her ear, biting the lobe several times, and caressed a line down to her collarbone. His lips plucked anywhere he could feel the beating of her blood beneath the skin. His teeth would grip harder, aiming to incite some moan or cry of delight if he could muster one from her, yet in all his pressure he knew to hold back for now and not break the surface.

He spoke to her cleavage, which presented itself like a present as he moved lower down her body. His robe falling open to expose his chest, which heaved with each breath he took, taking in her scent deeply into his lungs.

"And which form would you choose to be taken by?" The question was laced with lust and want, the images running through his mind already causing his member to grow harder. And he lowered his hips against her stomach, possibly even being painfully hard against her.

Harshly his teeth found her left nipple, still not wandering underneath her dress, and he bit down firmly. Rolling his tongue around and over the hard bud as he suckled. His hand paying her other breast the same level of attention. Yet with more of a firm massage than pin point pressure.