Fangs & Freaks (Shifters of Myths and Legends #1)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Varys

The air in the cell reeks of mildew and piss. I sit on the cold stone floor, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the faint cracks that spider web across the ceiling. It’s been days—weeks maybe. Time lost meaning after the first few injections. Each one left me disoriented, my body shaking uncontrollably, my mind a whirlwind of confusion. They want me to shift, to become something I’ve spent my entire life hiding, and they’ll stop at nothing to see it happen.

My hands tremble as I clutch the flimsy blanket, barely enough to stop the bone-deep cold that penetrates my body. The metal door screeches open, the sound grating against my already frayed nerves. They come in like clockwork, black hoods masking their faces, their movements practiced and cold.

A tray clatters to the ground just inside the door. The slop they’ve deemed food, a grayish mush, is splattered across the floor, leaving a sticky, gray residue that sinks into the cracks. My stomach growls involuntarily, but the insult stings more than the hunger.

The hooded person doesn’t speak. They never do. Just a silent figure in the dark who watches me with disdain before retreating, leaving me alone with the mess. This time, though, there’s something different. The tray itself is metal, gleaming under the dim, flickering bulb in the hallway. Usually, it’s just a plastic bowl and cup, shoved in with as much care as one might toss scraps to a dog.

I crawl forward, careful not to spill more of the muck as I pick up the tray. My reflection stares back at me from the scratched, distorted surface. Hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, a wild tangle of hair that barely resembles the person I used to be. I run a hand over my jaw, my breath hitching. They’ve stripped me down to a shadow of myself.

My mind is filled with old stories that I can’t seem to shake. My grandmother’s voice echoes, warm and smooth, as she told me tales of the magic and power that ran through our veins.

If you’re ever desperate, Varys, if you’ve nothing left to lose, call her. Bloody Mary. She’s not kind, but she listens to the broken-hearted.

It’s ridiculous. Childish. But here, in this cell, stripped of everything I know, the absurdity is a lifeline. I grip the tray tighter, the edges biting into my fingers. What else do I have?

I drag the tray to the back of the cell, the furthest point from the door, and crouch down, my heart pounding. The air feels heavier now, as if the stories themselves are watching, waiting.

“Bloody Mary,” I whisper, the name feeling sinful on my tongue. My reflection stares back at me, unblinking, as if daring me to continue. “Bloody Mary.” Louder this time, my voice trembling but resolute.

The third time, I say it with everything I have left. “Bloody Mary.”

For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the quiet hum of the fluorescent light and the distant drip of water somewhere down the hall. I’m about to laugh at myself, to curse my desperation, when the air shifts. It’s subtle at first, like the temperature dropping a few degrees, but then it deepens, thickens, pressing against my skin.

The surface of the tray ripples, my reflection warping. The scratches and dents seem to disappear, replaced by something smoother, darker. Her face appears, pale and sharp, with eyes that are as dark as coal. Her lips curl into a smile that is anything but comforting.

“Varys,” she says, her voice like shattered glass and honey. “You called?”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “I need help.”

Her laugh echoes in the small cell, a sound that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Oh, I can see that. You’ve made quite a mess of things, haven’t you?” She leans closer, her face dominating the tray, as if she might crawl through it at any moment. “And why should I help you, little unicorn?”

The word hits me like a blow. She knows. Of course, she knows.

“They’ll kill me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “They’ve tried everything to force me to shift, and now... now they’re planning something worse.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think she might mock me. But then she tilts her head, considering. “Desperation suits you, Varys. But magic always has a cost. Are you willing to pay it?”

I hesitate. I’ve heard enough stories to know deals with creatures like her rarely end well. But what choice do I have? “What’s the price?”

Her smile widens, teeth gleaming like daggers. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.”

My stomach twists, but I nod. “Yes. Whatever it takes.”

“Poor little unicorn,” she croons, phantom-like fingers brushing my cheek. . “I’ll think about it.” The words are a purr, and the air in the cell seems to pulse, thick with her power, before she disappears from the tray and I’m once again left alone.

The door creaks open again, breaking my thoughts. Two of them enter, their hoods casting deep shadows over their faces. One carries a syringe, the needle glinting under the harsh light. My pulse quickens, panic rising like a tide.

“Time for another round,” one of them says, his voice muffled but sharp. They grab me roughly, dragging me to my feet.

The needle sinks into my arm, and the world blurs. My body feels heavy, uncooperative, as they haul me down the hall. The whispers of their plans echo in my mind. This one will work. It has to.

I’m strapped to a table, the restraints biting into my wrists and ankles. The fluorescent lights overhead burn my eyes, and the smell of antiseptic makes me gag. They’re talking, their words blending, but I catch fragments.

“Increase the dosage.”

“The organs… intact…”

“Prepare the tools.”

A cold sweat breaks out across my skin. They’re done waiting for me to shift. They’re going to cut me apart.

Bellonna

It’s been years since someone, other than stupid children, has called me, Bloody Mary. I find it funny that’s what they call me. Mary isn’t even my name. Somewhere amidst the years, it changed from my name to that of Mary. Whereas, I wish I was given the recognition for my kills, Bellonna died long ago on that slab when she was betrayed by her best friend .

My mind trails back to the battered man who pleaded for my help, not caring about the cost I’d asked from him.

Much like me, he’s unique. A being thought to be extinct long ago. After becoming immortal, I had plenty of time to waste, so I spent it learning everything I could about mythical beings. I learned every detail I could about the monsters that went bump in the night. Creatures from stories our parents told us to keep us petrified. They're a way of keeping us from the dangers lurking in the dark. Now it’s funny thinking back to then, knowing I’m one of those creatures.

I move back into my bedroom, my eyes grazing along the sleeping form of the incubus in the bed. He’s in his demon form now, and I take a moment to appreciate his body. A smile glistens on my lips, knowing he had his tail, the very one that’s pulled between his legs and wrapped around his arm, deep inside my ass while he fucked me with his massive cock.

My virginity was the last shred of my humanity left when I died, and I made sure to rid myself of it once my transition period was over. I shift back to my human form and head for the shower, my mind racing, unable to stop thinking about the unicorn.

Something about him called to me in a way no one has before. For some unholy reason, he’s speaking to my non- existent soul, the one Lilith took as payment years ago for helping me. Helping him would set me up for eternity, not that I need money, but it’s about the other things, those that money can’t buy, that his life could bring me. I can already see Lilith salivating as I present him to her. A rare find and one who’s kept himself hidden well, but there was no mistaking his scent when I popped into the cell. It’s distinctive, one of a kind, and so intoxicating.

I pull off my robe, the one thing I grabbed to put on when he called me and drop it to the floor. That’s the downside. When they call, I have to go; there’s no putting it off. Some days it’s tiring, but on others I long for the whispered words. Reaching into the shower, I turn on the water before stepping back over to the mirror, looking at my reflection. I’m frozen in time, still looking the same as I did three hundred fifty-two years ago when my human body died. Now I carry two guises, though at times, I much prefer my shifted witch form.

I look down at my body; it too is the same except for the tattoos that now cover it and the glinting metal from the piercing in my belly button. My once clean face is now painted in the darkest hues of makeup. It’s my one vice, keeping up to date on the trends of the mortal world.

The room begins to fill with a foggy haze. The steam clings to the walls, as droplets of condensation form and run down the tiles as the steam rises higher, dissipating slowly into the coolness of the air outside the shower and I take that as my cue to step inside it.

The hot water hits my skin and I fold into its warmth, allowing the heat and pressure to work out the tense knots in my shoulders. Images of the broken unicorn, lying on the filthy floor flash through my mind as we teleport to my bed. He’s now naked as I crawl on top of him, straddling him.

My fingers glide over my wet skin, trailing down the length of my stomach until I reach my pubis. The tip of my fingers rub soft circles against my clit as I reach out, placing my palm on the shower wall and bracing myself.

“Bellonna, you’re so beautiful .” His voice is no longer pained, but strong and caring.

He gazes at me with pure love, something I’ve not seen in my life, not with any of the beings I bring to my bed. It’s all about sex, the conquest of being with me. I’m picky, never sleeping with any random person, choosing my bedmates carefully. Symolta, currently spread eagled in my bed, is the rare beast to get the privilege of sleeping with me more than once. He eases the ache when it builds.

My ministrations become faster as the unicorn latches his mouth onto my pebbled peak, sucking and flicking his tongue around my tiny mound, knowing that it excites me. My fingers slip through my wet folds, finding my opening and slipping inside. One, then two. The heel of my palm presses against my bundle of nerves as I finger fuck myself until the telltale fluttering appears in my stomach.

I’m so close, so very close. I let go of the wall and pinch my nipple, giving the final nudge to send me careening over the edge as my orgasm takes over. My body becomes a quivering mess as I ride out the wave of euphoria.

Only when it’s over is my mind made up.

I’m helping him.

Hold tight, little unicorn. I’m coming for you.