Witching Hour

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No Good Deed

The next day, Samantha focused on the herpies first. They were the most pressing, to put it lightly, and gods help her if they have another one of their flare-ups. However, she wasn’t getting rid of them anytime soon, so she might as well bite the bullet- harpies! Harpies... To Samantha, they might as well have been the same thing.

At least Marcy made hers blissfully smooth. Samantha knocked, she opened the door, and promptly slammed it on her hand. The test was wedged in it, showing the lovely B-minus she earned. No questions were even needed to be asked. On either side.

Sadly, Samantha already knew that Buffy was going to be the harder of the two, both by the grade and the fact that they were still on speaking terms. Give it another week... She couldn’t. So, she steeled herself, cracked her wrist, bent it back to normal, and marched off towards her room.

She only needed to knock twice before Buffy allowed her to enter. The harpy sat on the corner of her bed, her face buried in her game, humming, smiling away as she paused every so often to check the time. Her room received a... major overhaul. Gone were the rotting remains of meals. Lost to the annals of time were the affronts to humanity that even made the walking corpse look amazing in comparison, instead replaced by soft, blue carpet... though it was stained in places by the ghosts of honey mustard, ketchup, hot sauce, barbeque sauce, and things she didn’t really want to consider from times long passed. It turned out she had a sofa buried under the fetid garbage, a brown, satin seat, almost completely barren of any kind of stain. As if it never had been used before, in fact.

Her bed, though.

She tried so hard to clean it, but, no matter what, it blared to the world she never truly left it. There most of the smell still held, while the rest of the cell emanated a soft cucumber-melon. A scent Samantha knew all too well.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...” Samantha began, and cleared her throat as she showed Buffy her test. A D-plus. Buffy’s hands went still on the device. It was a wonder she didn’t simply drop it, frozen save for her brow, twitching. The sound of a monster then the folly of man wailed on her screen, not even paying that mind, still locked on that purple D. As the cats yowled on that device, as they dumped her poor body in front of the tent, she finally blinked and closed the device, gingerly. She set it aside, and wrenched that test out of Samantha’s hand, looking over and through it... before an eerie calm settled on her brow. She simply shrugged, and picked up her game again; Samantha sucked on her teeth, sitting on the couch, and clapped her hands. “So...”

“What?”

“You want to talk about this test? What went wrong... what could be improved on, maybe?”

“Not really, no. It’s still passing”

“Barely.”

“D’s get degrees, Sammy.” She muttered something else, just under her breath and overshadowed by the roars on her game.

Samantha leaned forward, the tension already thickening.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Maybe because you weren’t suppose to.”

“Well, it’s brought up, so you might as well say it for me to hear.”

She closed her game again, and the smile she kept fell into a sneer, a scowl aimed towards Samantha.

“Fine. You really want to know? You can’t really help me on what is wrong.”

“And that would be...”

“Any of it, really. Any except science. I got every single science question right, so the rest can go fuck itself.”

Samantha got to her feet, looming over the harpy. The walls began to creak, reaching towards the metal gathering on her hands.

“Oh, so you’re telling me to fuck off, huh?

“Pretty much. You’re a terrible teacher and a rather shittier friend.”

“Really? After what I had done for you!”

“And how you fucked over Marcy, or did you really think she wouldn’t tell me that you helped her to get Junmei back in the first place? You’ve been playing both of us the fool this entire time-”

“Is that what you think?”

Buffy shot to her feet, and hit Samantha’s chin with the top of her head, forcing her back onto the sofa. Feathers billowed as she bore down upon Samantha, her hands resting on either side of her head, forcing her to look into her eyes and see the fire and hatred swirling in them.

“It’s what I know. Out of respect for Junmei, I am still going to class, but I don’t give a single shit about anything you teach, you backstabbing, cut-throating cunt.” She cocked her head as Samantha chuckled. “What? What is it?”

“You know, huh? Well, I know something, too: Junmei doesn’t really give a fuck about you. He originally came to me wanting advice on getting to know the real Marcy. He wanted Marcy. Marcy! Even though you guys were fucking, he was still thinking of her during all of it. Did he tell you that? Did he?”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? I get in enough trouble telling the truth. Face it, Buffy: you are his consolation bitch. His pity f-”

“And what does that make you, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“What does that make you with Minos?”

“Nothing? There’s nothing there!”

“Don’t bullshit me! I read the chat; we heard the commotion.”

“Nothing happened. I finally found the chat room and wanted to bust his fucking head in for his lies! I was already in a foul mood because of Ayn, and he has just the most perfect punchable face.”

“Uh huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Samantha shoved her off, but kept in her face as she bolted to her feet again, just an inch taller than the harpy. “Say what’s on your mind! Go ahead! Plenty of people have been doing it as of late, so why should you fucking matter?”

“What I’m saying is you are Minos’ slut. Even with that boyfriend of yours-”

“You saw?”

“All of us did. Ginger happened to be getting her new skin when you arrived. She was settling in, waiting when she saw tall, fair, and cute walk in with you in his arms. Got to be honest: between him and Minos, I would go after Minos. At least he looks like he can take care of me, but I guess you want to wear the pants in the relationship. No wonder Minos took pity on you-”

“Shut your fucking mouth up before I seal it. Minos didn’t show me mercy; I showed him it! I gave him head because he looked absolutely fucking misera...”

She stopped herself, and shoved Buffy on the bed, wanting nothing more than to encase her in molten metal and wait for the screams to stop. If she kept smiling like that, she might even add eleven secret herbs and spices. Samantha exhaled, slowly, and pointed at the harpy, the slightest sliver of silver seen on its tip, whistling as she whispered.

“You didn’t hear anything. You got it? You didn’t hear a single... fucking thing... or else...”

That sliver of silver sparked and shrieked as it flew from her finger, burying into the wall across. A solid thump emanated from the wall before it exploded outward, blossoming the silver seed that had been buried into it, its copper petals shimmering in the dim light.

Buffy sighed, and raised her hands to either side, her hands opened to show the palms.

“You won’t hear a word out of me... but if you did -if- doesn’t it count as cheating?”

“If we did, and that’s a big if... I mean, Mahna and I have only been seeing each other three months, and that’s putting it loosely. We’ve been together, like, twenty hours, if that, and I don’t think he’s ready to say we are in a serious relationship.”

“Uh huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing... After all, you had sex with the guy, had him carry you to your bed...”

“Again, that’s only if, as in the largest if imaginable, Minos and I actually did do something. Which we did not. At all.” She shook her head, and turned to the door. “Anyways, since you don’t give a fuck about anything I have to say, I’ll be going n-”

“Junmei’s not going to break up with me.”

“At this point, I want the guy to fuck off somewhere and either take you two with him or just want both of you to go away... But. You know what? He is going to break up with you. At least Marcy has a personality outside of staring at a screen.”

She left Buffy’s... but happened to stop by Marcy’s along the way back. She eased the visor aside, and was surprised to see Junmei was in there with her, groveling at the edge of her bed. Marcy glowered down at him, tears glistening in her eyes, listening as he... sobbed. Cried.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was weak... The words she said at that moment, they struck a cord. It was exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?” Marcy said, her voice ugly, contorted, holding back anger, sadness, and fear. “How come you didn’t tell me that I needed to be more open, that I was smothering you with such thought?”

“I don’t know... I guess it never crossed my mind, about how to say it.”

“Bull-fucking-shit!” Samantha shouted through. “That’s what I told you from the start.”

He gasped, his body lurching-

But Marcy held him there with her legs, still glaring. At both of them.

“Continue what you were saying, June,” she said.

He gulped, sat up, and reached out for her hands, cupping them. “It’s... I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know anything... What I do know is, though she made my heart quiver, it still rings true for you. It wants you, and only you... Please, Marcy.”

Marcy looked down upon him, her tears finally spilling down her cheeks in long, thick streaks. She wiped them with her left hand, rubbed at them... but shot Samantha a hateful look. She was locked in Samantha’s gaze, transfixed, as if sharing an exchange as well, broken as Marcy’s lips rolled into a snarl, and she gripped the back of Junmei’s head, opening her legs as she did. Samantha had noted she was wearing a pink blouse, but didn’t wonder nor wanted to know if she had anything underneath... turns out she didn’t. She wasn’t wearing anything below.

“Then show me how much you love me,” she said, and pushed him in between her thighs. All that could be heard for the longest time was quivering breaths, from both Marcy and Junmei... but... slowly, just on the edge of hearing, soft laps rose. Marcy’s breathing grew heavier; her cheeks warmed as she once again met Samantha’s gaze, still there. The harpy flipped her off, but gave her a wink, both forgotten as her hand fell back with her, clenching the sheets. Her moans continued to rise, matching the tongue lashing she was receiving, gone again as Samantha closed the visor... her cheeks aching a touch. She felt them, and found the curves of her smile, hurting even more as soft, devious giggles erupted from her lips.

Like those two had any room to talk, she thought, leaning against the door. They are WAY more fucked up.

However, this meant her day was done: Junmei was third, and he was a touch preoccupied at the moment. So she returned to her room.

Or, at least, she started to.

Peter’s door cracked open, but only a crack, not daring any further. Its presence was already noted from the solid thunk it made when the seal was broken, as if still new, working in the kinks. Samantha... made her way to it, no light nor anything seen beyond as she did. She barely touched it, barely even grazed the metal, when Peter appeared, smiling down at her.

“Oh. Teacher. I just happened to pass by the door and here you are. Opening it...” He said, chortling. “Are you here to review my test with me?”

“I... didn’t plan on it. At least, not today.”

“A... are you sure? I could have sworn you had it planned for today. Made a kettle of chamomile tea and everything. That’s what you told me Friday, right- or was it the group chat- through word of mouth- definitely word of mouth, from Norman.”

“W... well, Junmei was meant to be my other assignment today, but that had a falling out... Let me go get your test-”

He chuckled, a touch too loud, and shook his head.

“Oh, teacher whom often misplaces things and double-books... I’ll be waiting.”

“... Right...” She returned to her room, a mite quick but slow leaving, feeling his gaze on her once more at the top of the steps. Through his eyelids, no less. He eased the door back as she approached, allowing her at last into his humble abode –emphasis on humble. Aged, ancient banners of houses long since fallen and forgotten hung on his walls, coming to life under the faux torches, flicked on. They were of bright teals, golds, and purples, of goblets, griffons, and even dragons, clashing against the red silk hung behind them, seeming to roll from the king-sized bed in the back, loaded with pillows and soft, fur blankets. The floor was coated in scarlet carpet, turning to stained glass flooring by the kitchen, no door but thick, multi-hued ribbons barring entrance to it, while bookshelf upon bookshelf filled the space in between, brimming with tomes far older than anything Samantha may have seen in Monica’s, save for a rich, mahogany desk behind Peter.

Only in a pair of black boxers.

She would have flushed if her face wasn’t so pale, seeing the mural of scars that spanned across his tanned flesh, creased into his muscle, every part of him bulging yet honed. However, a certain ring of scars stood out among the centuries of others carved into his flesh: a ragged circle on his chest, just over his heart, almost stark white against the darkness of it all.

Peter offered her the desk chair behind her, an extravagant beauty that made her six others look poor, while he sat in his winged chair against the wall beside, “watching” her, smiling sadly. As always.

“Thanks, Peter,” Samantha said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. She gestured to the room, clearing her throat –just in case. “Quite a place you got here.”

His smile faded a moment, while his tone remained somewhat pleasant.

“Thank you. They are... gifts from my... wife.”

“You have a wife? She must be worried sick about you.”

“V... very. She believes I shouldn’t be down here, that I... I shouldn’t be down here. But she makes it comfortable, at least... reminding me.”

She wanted to ask of what, but the... venom, the unbridled anger in it made the skin crawl on her back. Instead, she put his test on the desk, stilling her hands by holding them over the perfect score on it. The sooner she got out, the better. There were already enough worms crawling around; she didn’t need to open another can of them.

“R... right... um... you got a perfect score. Impressive- congrats, even.” She gave him a small smile, gone as confusion creased her brow, seeing him frowning. “W-what’s wrong?”

“I tried...”

“Y-yeah. It’s obvious yo-”

He shook his head. “I tried to fail.”

“Y-you did? But these answers, the formulas-”

“I know. Even in trying to fail, in taking the harder paths, I still ended up succeeding.” He groaned, rubbing his temple. “What do I need to do... I’m such a failure.”

“At... failing? Hey, if that’s the only thing you fail at- so Norman told me a little about you... and why you can’t really talk to girls.”

“... That so?”

She nodded, and creased her hands tighter together. Any more, and she would draw blood. A necessary evil, if I must.

“Yes. So... who was the ninth? The one that actually got a-”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Eh? For what?”

“For talking with me about my test... You can go now.”

“I’m sorry. It must be a difficult subject. I know you were forced into a relationsh-”

“There was no forcing me into it. I wanted to; you know nothing. Nobody here knows anything. Not even Norman, bless his gentle heart.”

“That’s not what Norman s-”

“You can go. Thank you, Sam, but... please... I think this was a pleasant enough talk.”

“I didn’t even get a cup of tea.”

He stood, made his way to the door with a rigid pace, and opened it, smiling, waiting for her to leave before shutting it. Just as slow as he had originally opened it, just as gently gently, which only made her heart sink even more.

What did I do wrong? She thought, a loaded question, one that remained as she called it a night, haunting her dreams into the next day. Her mind still buzzed as she went to Junmei, in his room –for the moment, at least. The way he eyed the door as she talked showed he had other things in mind, and it’s not like her review was helping. She thought about looking in on Buffy, to enjoy some humble pie and karma, but thought it best to leave that wailing metal be, instead stopping at Jack’s next. Once more she was more taught than an aid, but he congratulated her on how he tore down both Minos AND Buffy.

“You are a cold-blooded killer, love,” he said, pulling up the chats on his computer. There were two private chats, from her favorite people. “They’ve been trying to rally everyone into doing something terrible –save for the usual suspects.”

“Then... why are you showing me?”

“Why? Because I have grown to respect you. If it wasn’t for your softness towards our local whore, I would be glad to call you friend.” He patted her shoulder, chuckling. “No worries, though. No one is willing to help either. Hell, Marcy already came out and said if Buffy tried anything she’ll gut her. And that was the nicest way to put it.”

“Thanks...”

With that out of the way, there was only Lisa for the day. Samantha sat on the side of her bed, holding the test before her – racked with guilt as she did. The poor Fang’s breathing shook. Her ribs cracked and rattled something fierce as her face welled with emotion, bruising it with how much anger surged into her pale cheeks. Her lips worked incessantly, fumbling over words, tearing, stealing her breath away as she tried so hard to put it to words why she got “only a 99”.

Samantha eased her back on her bed, through its silk screens held aloft by the four posters. Each was carved out of fine oak, polished to a shine, like four, brilliant spires overlooking a vast, sparkling plain. Samantha shushed her, caressed her forehead, BUT made sure to keep her wrist away from the fang’s mouth. She could feel her gaze on it, watching its every movement while she still searched for the words.

“It’s okay,” Samantha whispered, shushing her arguments, and... gently, ever so gently, caressed the girl’s forehead. The first time she did it she left a nice, black hand print. “That just means you have to get the 100 next time. It’s no big deal.”

“... True,” Lisa said, little more than a sigh, “but I still wanted it. I should have got it.”

“You’ll get it next time. I have faith in you... If I may ask... N... never mind.”

“What?” She tried to sit up, and grazed Samantha’s wrist as she did. Halted, stiffened when she did. She sniffed it, and her breathing grew heavy, hot against Samantha’s skin. Her red eyes started to turn black- rushed with it as Samantha eased it away... but she simply sighed again, pursing her lips. “Sorry. That wasn’t proper, was it?”

“I-it’s o... No, it wasn’t, but...” Come on, Sam. You’re a big girl, she’s nice enough, and you knew each other long enough. You two get along... right? Right! J-

“Samantha? Are you all right?”

“Y... yeah. I’m... So what’s... you know, wrong with you?”

“Wrong? Oh... you must mean my... body.” She sighed again, and turned towards the wall. Panting from even that small movement. “My husband left me to starve.”

“Husband?”

“Bartemius. He was so sweet for so long... Then, one day... Gone.”

“Gone?”

“I was waiting for him to bring back food... Thought it was simply a dry spell. He told me to wait there in the forest... I did... for eighty years.”

“Without moving?! I mean... you are a Fang. It was the forest-”

She looked over her shoulder, straining so, and gave Samantha an indignant look.

“Feed from lowly creatures?”

“Better than nothing- and for eighty years! No one stumbled across you?”

“I was good at hiding... The Death Marshes finally found me, though, and here I am.” She huffed, clenching at her blankets. “How could they be so selfish? I even told them that they were making a grave mistake; Bartemius would not be pleased when he returned and I was gone. I was his princess...”

“That’s... that’s... horrible! Lisa, don’t you get it? He abandoned you. He left you to die, and you still stood by him? You never thought to leave!”

“I love him.”

“Love is well and good, but if it causes you pain, honey, you got to think of number one first... yourself. Number one is yourself.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t expect anyone here to, really. They don’t matter. One day, Bartemius will find me, and we’ll be happy again.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll keep waiting.” Samantha simply shook her head, and stood. She was about to leave when she felt a hand tug on her skirt. She looked back, seeing Lisa and one of her mischievous smiles. “Hey... can I sample your blood?” She let go, giggling. “Just teasing again. Thanks for talking with me, Sam.”

“N... no problem, Lisa.”

She shook her head again, and left, heading for bed. There was only Ginger left, then she had a solid, three-day break. The bed felt that much more comfortable as she threw herself on it, and decided to check her phone as she took off her shoes... finding a fresh picture from Mahna.

So whatcha doing this weekend? ;) He sent.

Samantha bit her lip, hand roving as she typed to him, teasing her breasts before going lower.

Going out with the bitches, but I have Friday free. Wanna chill?

Sounds good to me. She was about to respond when he sent another message. Never mind. Turns out Aya wants to go out that night, so I’m stuck on store duty.

Samantha cocked her head. Wait. How did you find that out?

She heard my phone and burst in. Should’ve seen her face, though. It was as if she combusted.

She should keep her nose out of your fucking business.

Don’t need to tell me twice... Sorry, Sam. :(

It’s okay. She smirked, and rolled up her skirt, taking a picture down there. It’ll be missing you, though.

;) Damn right.

She rolled her eyes, but sighed, content, as she continued to rub down there, moaning, rising as it only got hotter. The bed creaked a touch, the covers sticking a bit as she thrust against her fingers, teasing, pushing inside. She played with her clit, stroking it, feeling him fill her up. She sucked on her fingers, trailing them down her breasts, both hands making her reach climax again and again. She fought her cries, tried to keep them inside, until it finally came bursting out of her.

“Fuck yeah, Minos.”

She stopped, and looked up at the ceiling, no longer anywhere near the proper mood. Her stomach twisted on itself, only settling as she rolled on her side and hugged one of her pillows, drifting off to an uncomfortable rest. Why did Evaluation Week always suck all the joy out of the Halls? Even with the herpies she was being hopeful; week? It was like the weather in that damned state: Minutes, if not seconds.

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