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.Gothic Horror comes to Brobdingrag	By : keithcompany Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Gulliver's Travels Views: 2356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on Gullivers Travels by Jonathan Swift. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter List
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"Lewetentant Moralee will be in town this week," Terrpragoh announced.
"Mmmm?" Gabrielle responded. She sat on his shoulder, trying to solve a wire puzzle that the giant had brought home for her. He thought she needed intellectual stimulation. She was methodically straightening all the wires from their clever arrangements.
"That Englishman woman you helped rescue," he explained.
"Mmm-hmm." The belt of the puzzle was a bit more difficult. With a steady diet of giant blood, she had more than enough strength. She just couldn't get leverage. She placed a boot against the puzzle base.
"She's making a Grande Tour," he went on. "Visiting all the Peers. And Lord Staistchill will be the first! Because she was found here."
"Uh-huh, sure."
Something rustled in the brush out beyond the light of his torch. He easily identified it as a startled fox from the sound. He just wasn't sure if it was his or Gabbishella's ears that had actually heard it.
Terr shrugged. If the boundaries between him and his vampire were blurred, they were also unimportant. There was a snap and the marble popped away from him. He snatched it before it passed arm's length.
"You solved it!" he said happily. He twisted his face to look down at… At a demolished puzzle. "That's not how you solve puzzles!" he complained.
"That's how _I_ solve puzzles," Gabrielle said. Terr didn't miss the challenge in her voice, but neither did he rise to meet it. He tossed the marble into the woods to his right. At the exact same time, and with much the same motion, his girlfriend tossed the wired disassembly into the woods to their left.
"Anyway," he said, tacking back to the subject. "Between the Lord's promotion to Earl and this show of preference by the Queen's adopted…"
He paused, looking off to the side of the road. Gabrielle couldn't see around his huge noggin so she drifted over his collar to the other shoulder.
The just-mentioned Earl stood beside an oak. Hands hung down at his side and his mouth was open in a slack gape. The only movement was his shadow flickering in the light from the torch. "He looks odd," Terr said.
"He looks drunk," Gabrielle said. She moved to hide behind Terr's head, peering around his ear to see the peer.
"Then his valet would be here with a bucket," Terr replied. He stepped forward and raised his voice. "Evening, milord! Can I help you?"
The loose expression cleared. And formed into a downright evil one. Staistchill sneered at the sight of his caretaker.
"Terrpragoh," he said. Gabrielle's eyebrows rose sharply. The only time she heard people speaking in that tone of voice, they were making fun of vampire movies.
"Milord?"
"Terrpragoh. The richest stableman in five counties." The noble took a step forward. Dark stains became apparent in his blouse and riding trousers.
"Oh. Yes, sir. The wolf and the boat, they certainly were lucky for me." He took a step back. "Are you, um, are you alright, your grace?"
"I'm fine, Terrpragoh. Fine. Could you do me a small favor, though?" He took two quick steps to stand almost upon the toes of Terr's boots. "Could you give me all that gold you got? It's not for me, really, it's for propriety. Your assets shouldn't be greater than my assets, you know? It's not how things are done!"
He reached out and grabbed both of Terr's shoulders and shook slightly. The younger man swept one hand up to brush him off. The other held the torch, though, and he wasn't quite ready to light his liege lord aflame.
"Stealing from rightful owners, Earl, is also not how it's done! You appear to be drunk, sir. I'll ask you to unhand me, and we'll say no more about it. Alright?"
The nobleman glared. Then he swung a fist.
Terrpragoh ducked the punch. The fist beat through the air and knocked chips off of the tree behind him. Gabrielle jumped up to rake the man's wrist with her claws.
It was like trying to score rock. Her nails squealed across the bare skin but did not penetrate. No blood even oozed along the trail of her attack.
Meanwhile Terr had dropped the torch and swung a doubled fist into his liege lord's loins. The strength he gained from his daily labors was enhanced by the shot of adrenaline in his veins and Gabbishella's powers. The impact lifted the target higher than his own boots.
But when he came down, he remained standing. Terr collapsed to the ground, hands cradled to his chest in agony.
Gabrielle felt that pain through their bond. She didn't pause in her attack, though. She landed on the sleeve and ran up the arm. The eyes of their attacker were on Terr's moaning form. Staistchill smiled and doubled his own fists.
She leapt to his face and stabbed a finger into the nearest eye. Finger and iris both shattered. She screamed in agony, he shouted in frustration and stomped backwards.
Gabby dropped to Terr's shoulder. She could only think of two things: her throbbing hand and that she needed more power to fight the Lord. Whatever had happened to him, he was outside of her league.
Lucky for her and Terr, blood would do for both concerns. She rolled over his shoulder to land on his throat, draped across the side. Without hesitation she thrust her face against his skin and ripped his flesh with her fangs.
Blood burst forth and she swallowed desperately. Power welled in her, coursing down her throat like the strong liquor of a distant memory. The hand reassembled itself, her body swelled, her muscles filled and vigor empowered her.
She rose straight up into the air, flying rather than jumping. Gabrielle glowed with a dark, crimson light.
"Oooh, Shiny," Stais whispered. He swung both hands, trying to swat Gabrielle out of the air. She swerved and ducked, then flew towards the bastard's remaining eye.
He covered it with one hand. She speared her flattened hands between his fingers, trying to stab either one into the iris.
They only penetrated halfway, then he slapped his other hand up from behind her. She yanked but couldn't break free before she was slapped flat.
There was a brief flash of great pain, though her body was resistant to any lasting damage.
The pain hit Terr's brain, though, and he surged upwards in anger. She felt his fury, his worry for her sake, his bloodlust... Well, that was probably her emotion, but she didn't mind lending it to him.
Terr tackled the standing lord about waist-high and bore him backwards. The two building-sized fighters hit a skyscraper-sized tree.
There was a horribly loud cracking sound. Gabrielle felt the hands around her go limp. She used her hands to spread the fingers before her and finally got to crack that remaining eye. It shattered most pleasantly, though it seemed more like porcelain than anything organic.
Then she felt Terr sink to the ground. He'd busted up his shoulder on that assault. She pried her way free and looked around. The torch was sputtering out on the road. Terr leaned his good shoulder on a tree, hands clutched to his chest once more.
"Are you alright, Gabbishella?" he moaned.
"I'm fine," she said. Beneath her, the form of Terr's liege started to crack and crumble. She realized it was a simulacrum, some sort of doppelganger. A golem, maybe?
Just then a horde of giants stumbled down the road. She was surprised she hadn't heard them coming, but perhaps the throbbing pain in her mind blocked her.
The vampire had just enough time to flit into Terr's shirt before they came into view. They gazed down at the dark, softening form and then over at Terr in awe.
Terr lasted long enough to recognize Lord Staistchill kneeling beside him. "I broke you, milord. But I can pay for it." Then he heeled over onto the ground.
"Idiot," Gabby muttered.
While they were transporting her idiot to Staistchill's manor, she moved from his shirt to his mouth and crouched therein. She wanted to keep his airway and his options open.
She relaxed her energies a bit, letting her power feed back to Terr along their bond. It eased his pain and sped his healing. If there was an opportunity, she might consider taking another giant's blood to help Terr.
He wouldn't approve, but he'd have to be healthy to stop her. A self-validating argument for her side, she thought.
But right now there were too many witnesses. The healer was looking at Terr's injuries while the rest of the lord's household discussed the evening.
Gabrielle learned that there had been some sort of confrontation earlier. A witch had applied to move to the riding and Stais denied her. Then an 'evil twin' of the lord appeared, causing mayhem and raising discontent about the riding.
No one had been able to resist the thing, then they find Terr laying beside the rotting form. The speculation was quite imaginative.
"Everythin' seems to happen to Terrpragoh," someone muttered.
"I think he'd have been glad to let you smash your fists on the contraption," the healer muttered.
"I'm not jealous," the speaker protested. "I'm just saying, no one could stand against the Lord on his evil rampage."
"The Lord?" Lord Staistchill asked in a dangerous voice.
"Not your Lordship, milord, obviously, but the fake lord."
"Let's keep the distinction in mind," Stais said. Gabby heard the huge noggins nodding.
They went on to wonder if Terr had some special knowledge in fighting witches' evil twin monsters. Gabby was afraid that down that road lay accusations that he was in league with evil of some sort.
Aside from worry about how they'd treat her boyfriend, Gabby would not stand for such rumors unless she got accurate (and top) billing.
She braced herself against jaws and started to move Terr's mouth. She slurred her attempt at imitating his voice. It hid the inconsistencies in her impression and seemed to fit with his injuries.
"Som'ne say witsses?" she made Terr appear to ask.
"Yes," Stais said. He leaned down close to Terr's head. The doc moved quickly to Terr's head as well. "Terr, how did you know how to defeat the copy?"
"Did't know nothin'," she muttered for him. "Jus' g't so f'ckin' pissed."
"Ah," several giants said. "No special skill, just too dumb to fail."
"I'd rather say, he was too stubborn to fail," Stais said loyally. His posse was quick to determine that the nobleman had the right theory, and phrased it properly, quite inventive.
"Could be," the healer mused. "With this head wound, I'm quite surprised he can talk at all."
Head wound? Gabby thought. When had that happened? And how had she missed it?
"Still," someone muttered. "He did attack what he thought was you, milord, before you ran up and told him to."
"I'm sure he had sufficient reason," Stais said carefully. She adjusted her grip on the teeth.
"Milord's shirt w's staint," she told them. "Knew it weren't not you. And iff'n were you, y'd rath'r die to being seen 'n such a state."
They all laughed at that. She heard relaxation in the noble's voice. He had been worried that Terr had swung on him, hard enough to crack his spine.
Now he had a laugh, pat his handyman on the shoulder and led his men away from the perplexed healer.
"Anyone can laugh through that much pain is going to live," Stais pronounced. The healer didn't argue, but he didn't agree, either.
Gabby parted the lips over her head to watch the man and his entourage walk out.
"But still, milord," one was muttering. The one that brought up the attack. She marked him for later attention.
------------
Gabby had last seen sunlight when the best minds of her day thought that a good bleeding was a way to balance a sick man's humours.
The healer wasn’t quite that bad, but he wasn't terribly far above it in the vampire's estimation. What she wouldn't have given for a team of neurologists and some impact drills to get them into Terr's skull.
Still, there were things she could do. Once she was sure that the healer wasn't going to use leaches, blood drains or something to 'let the demons out,' she stole out of Terr's mouth and through the castle.
Stais and his inner circle were discussing 'the witch problem' over glasses of what smelled like brandy.
The shit-stirrer was across the room from most of the party. Gabby hoped it was because his stir-stick had been broken off and shoved up his ass.
She ran across the carpet as swift as lightning. Over her, literal tons of brain matter were stymied by one woman. She raised one feminist fist in glee and ran under her prey's chair.
They were discussing possible negotiations, offering her some land, some beads...a goat. This guy wanted nothing to do with that. He faced the fire, back to the discussion.
Gabrielle smiled and evil smile and climbed up to his armrest. His eyes were just widening when she put a finger over her lips to order silence.
His eyebrows drew close. The mouth started to open. He was going to disobey. Two years before she'd have just yanked his ass out the door and had her way with him. But that was when her prey could be handled with one hand.
Instead she smiled, winked...and yanked her blouse hope.
She'd always been rather proud of her breasts, even after the heart within had stopped beating.
High and firm, they could distract even other undead from whatever they had been about to say, or who they'd been about to kill. Shithead paused, staring. He licked one lip, glanced over his shoulder... But to avoid attention, rather than draw it.
He reached out towards her. She smiled, turning slightly to aim her bosom at the approaching fingers.
Then a small jump put her six feet closer to the hand, standing just before the base of the palm.
A swift movement stabbed her finger into the palm like an acupuncture needle. Shithead froze like a catatonic patient.
Ah, that woke some pleasant memories. Sleeping under the small patients' cemetery, working her way through doctors, support staff and inmates.
Before she left, she made the most evil ones into ghouls, and none of them were the patients. The craziest she just let free.
Catatonia, asylums and references to Jack The Ripper always took her back to that idyllic phase.
So it was with a pleasant smile that she climbed onto the man's wrist, tucked her breasts away, and walked gently up to his face.
He couldn't help but stare as she opened his cheek and drank, always staring into his looming eye.
The energy flowed into her. She reacted as she always did, growing in power, stature and flesh. She shunted as much as she could down the bond.
Of course, she couldn't let him heal completely. Once accusations of witchcraft were levied, you didn't want to leap up from the deathbed and try to act normal.
But she did want to keep the brain intact. And neurology was in its infancy here, there was no one to gainsay improvements there.
So she drank, flashed a blood-dripped smile, opened another part of his cheek and drank some more. The dull throb of Terr's shoulder and hands faded a tiny bit. But the feeling of his personality focused and grew.
Her smile widened. The pulse beneath her sped, then slowed as the eye rolled up into the skull.
"Ah. Well, no need to be coy, then," she muttered and dropped to his chest. His shirt was fashionably tight against his throat. The vein stood out. She nursed against it and drank her fill.
Then with a wave of her hand, she returned some of the energy. The holes filled, the wounds healed, the scars faded. All in all, the man had maybe lost enough blood to fill his thumb.
She released his paralysis and walked to his lap, there to jump down to the floor. She had a witch to find.
-----------
Vampires, dark creatures of the night, tend to hate witches. They're most often champions of life. Not individual lives, as Hansel, Gretel, Snow White can attest.
But they use organic potions and notions. They're attuned to the wilderness and very aware of the power of nature. They pervert and compel it, sure, but they need nature to be there to pervert.
So they are usually at odds with the forces of undead. Heroes are all the time getting information and tools from the village hag, arming themselves with information and wooden stakes steeped in a garlic-silver reduction.
Really, Gabrielle thought, you'd think they were a specially formed task for the eradication of the differently alive.
Of course, there didn't seem to be a tradition of vampires on Brobdingrag. But surely, if there were, the local traditionalists would jump on the coffin-burning bandwagon.
Gabby anticipated that she'd have no moral aversion to making the witch dead. Not that she usually had moral aversion. The very fact that she asked was sounding alarm bells in her head.
Probably Terr's influence, although it was also possible that she wanted the Navy Lieutenant's approval.
And what the hell was up with that?
She'd followed some clues from the Lord's discussion about where one might find witchy-poo, but hadn't come across her by sunrise.
Terr's blood made any dirt in the district sufficiently 'home' dirt for her purposes. She burrowed down next to a giant pine and snuggled in for the day.
----------
At sunrise she felt a questioning concern. Terr was awake. And... She cast her head back and forth as a dowsing rod. He was still at the manor. Still crippled by hands that were bruised down to the bone and a shoulder that was ever so slightly dislocated.
But awake, alert, and very aware that his girlfriend was nowhere close by. She tried to send a message, but telepathy seemed to be beyond them.
She stroked her breasts with her fingertips. They firmed up a bit and poked out. He was aware of her, of her excitement. And he concluded that if she was well enough to feel sexy, she was alright.
More than alright, she told herself. She was going to kill someone. Her nipples hardened and pushed her fingertips away from her breasts.
She instantly felt Terr panick. He knew the only things that got her that excited were sex and killing. And since Gabbishella wasn't in his pants...
She kissed her fingertips, thinking loving thoughts of her great big wimp, and set off across the forest.
Despite the wolf of the previous year, the forest reminded her of the more civilized parts of Europe. The giants had lived here a long, long time. There were few predators except for those that ate vermin.
And though they delighted in splacknucks, something about Gabrielle's carriage made them pause before trying to eat the vampire.
So she happily crossed through the undergrowth, whistling a happy tune (Tubular Bells, better known as the theme to the Exorcist).
A few giant-miles out of town there was an abandoned logging shack. The long barracks was rotting into the dirt, the door had disappeared and the roof was only notionally higher than the walls.
But there was a light shining out of one window. Gabby aimed for that and jogged along the wall.
When she was below the sill, she used some of her hoarded energy to float gently upwards, gazing into the interior.
A woman sat on a rickety stool, apparently playing with moss. There was a fire, with a kettle bubbling away at the edge.
She was old, with red round cheeks and brushed gray hair. Her clothes were patched but not ragged. She looked like Mrs. Santa Claus, making some Christmassy decorations.
Gabrielle hardly blinked at the sight. A certain sort of vampire was always looking for innocent-appearing people to make into their children. The visibly innocent had an easier time seducing victims. She'd lost count of the number of preadolescent vampires with centuries of evil behind them.
They never had to learn how to stalk, to think about the hunt or worry they wouldn't feed before sunrise. They sat and got victims and then had lots of time to get frustrated about their lot in life. Eternal youth, usually before they were old enough to have sex.
She liked to buy them Baby Herman t-shirts, the cartoon figure that said "I got a fifty year old lust and a three year old dinky."
But she was always careful to send them anonymously. Those beautiful children scared her more than Dracula had.
So anyway, finding Mother Goose at the center of a skein of mayhem and foulness wasn't going to make her hesitate to kill. She drifted up a bit higher, looking for a hole in the roof.
"Oh, dear, dear me," a voice called softly. Softly for a giant, of course. And to Vampire hearing, that was up there with a polite jet engine at take-off.
Gabrielle froze on the roof tile. She listened for movement beneath her. There was nothing.
"I said," the giant woman repeated, "Oh. Dear. Dear me. I know I have a visitor, and one with a great deal of-"
Gabby ran across the roof, over a collapsed part and down into the general empty space that had been a barracks room.
There was a beam holding up a scrap of roof. She bounced off that, flexing her legs and kicking. It shot her across the room faster than she could fly.
She had hoped to catch Witchy by surprise. Even after being detected, she still hoped to get inside arm's length.
But even as the face of her opponent loomed ahead, a green mist seemed to rise up in the way. A net, one made of moss, flew up to block her, wrap her up and drag her down to the floor.
Bitchy-poo giggled, one of those Christmas Special, Granny got you good, empower the old farts laughs. Gabby kicked and shoved but the moss wouldn't part. Nothing she could do would tear it.
"Nothing you can do will tear it," the witch said heartily. "No Englishman could." She sat down on her stool and played with some more moss.
"Well, well, welly, well," she said solemnly. "Seems that the humans have reached Brobdingrag again."
Gabrielle refused to reply. Miles away, Terrpragoh felt her frustration and ran out into Stais' courtyard.
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"What are you going to do with me?" Gabby finally asked. The giant shrugged and tied a knot of some sort in her moss.
"Okay," Gabby said. She started trying to burrow through the ground beneath her. If nothing else she needed a place to stay once the sun rose. Or she might get out from this net.
But something about the ground prevented her from digging. She couldn't get a grip.
"You're one for laying in and under dirt, aren't you?" the old lady trilled. "But that won't work here."
"And why not, the vampire asked, sure that the old biddy was trolling for a reason to talk more," Gabrielle snarled.
"Well, if you're here, little unclean thing, then you know I can make evil twins of things. Any things." She sniggered a bit. Gabby rolled her eyes.
"And," the witch went on, "I've made an evil twin of the ground, here."
"What the hell for?" Gabby asked. "Seriously, who thinks of shit like that...and then does it? An evil twin...of DIRT?"
"So's that no one can approach without the ground telling me," the giant replied. Her tone made it sound simple, obvious. "Most ground doesn't take sides. Mine does."
"Of course," Gabrielle nodded. "Evil ground. Gotcha. Man, the average intelligence of the island's going to go WAY up when I off you."
Mrs. Claus thought that was funny. She laughed and laughed, stomping her feet and clapping her knee. Gabrielle ignored her and worked on the moss.
She pulled, as hard as she could. Then she felt something. Terr was offering strength along their bond. And not willpower, but sheer muscles.
"No," Gabby whispered. "You're too weak. You can't risk giving me-"
The witch stood, working the moss in her hand like the dough of a small green pizza. She stepped towards where the vampire was pinned and her steps seemed full of evil portent.
Well, Gabrielle had never hesitated when the choice was her death or anything else. With scarcely a nod to her conscience, she accepted Terr's strength.
"Good luck, lover!" she hissed and tore at the moss net. Strains parted with snaps like gunshots.
Gabrielle released her borrowed strength and stood....just as the mossy mass was dumped down on her.
Everything went dark....
Her connection to Terr was cut off. In an instant she was alone in her head. Or maybe not...
There were echoes. Strange ones. She had a thought and it copied, floating around just outside of her skull.
She fought at the mass around her but it was slippery, then it started to bubble. It evanesced off of her and she was free.
She looked up to see where the witch was, then heard a chuckle. A low chuckle. Low as in no more than six feet off the ground.
Gabrielle stood there, right in front of her. And laughed at her. She stood still as something that looked and sounded and moved like her stepped forward.
A familiar nail trailed down her hair to her shoulder, down her blouse. The blouse that the other Gabrielle wore.
"Amazing," that woman said, fangs showing through her smile. "You've been on the island for two years... And your clothes are ten years out of style."
"So are yours," Gabby replied instantly.
"Ah, yes, but I make it work." Evil Twin Gabrielle spun slowly and Gabby had to agree. Same clothes, same accessories, but somehow there was just a slight edge. A tiny difference in the exact placement of each article, the precision turning dressing into Dressed.
Gabrielle defined herself through her clothes. ET Gabby not only defined herself, but she established Gabrielle's position...and it was a subservient one.
Gabrielle had really hoped that 'evil twin' was a balancing process. Well, she'd first assumed that she couldn't be duplicated. Either from her nature or from getting to and through the bitch's optic nerve before any spells were cast.
But there was always a chance, and she'd expected her moral opposite to appear. A good vampire, with all the physical strength but not the ethical resolve to use it.
This...was bad. No pun intended. It was bad because she recognized herself.
Gabbishella was the moral one here. She had a lick or two of Terr's principles. Not enough to keep her from cheating at puzzles, but enough to be considered 'good' from any vampire's point of view.
Evil Twin was just Gabby. The original Gabby. The self-serving bitch that had landed on the shore with a ship full of her victims.
"So...." she asked her double, "what happens now?" There was soft giggling over their heads. Both ignored the giant.
"It's sort of a Pinocchio thing," Evil Gabrielle said with an airy wave of her arm. "I kill you, I slip into your place. I grow...real, for lack of a better word."
Knuckles popped as Gabbishella made tight fists. "And the bond with my... With Terrpragoh?"
Evil cocked a hip and gazed at her perfect nails. Her voice was calm as she said, "I take that over, and gain the powers of a giant familiar, using that to further my mistress' agenda."
But her expression was one of distaste. Gabby realized her doppelganger had turned to hide her face from the witch.
Evil Gabrielle....didn't want the bond? Gabby thought furiously as her double walked nonchalantly around her. When she first came here, she'd had plans. Plans for Hawaii, for an endless stream of anemic tourists who would taste of sun and fun.
Then she adapted to her situation, planning to dominate and control a servant who could juggle sea lions. The thought of softening her heart enough to let one of the creatures in... She'd have rejected that concept.
Evil was back around to standing before her.
"I'll never let you hurt Terr!" Gabrielle shouted. The giant laughed as the two closed together, claws out, fangs extended and hair tossed dramatically back.
The bitch even had more body in her hair, Gabby noticed.
Gabby swore. Evil Gabby spat a cutting haiku. They raked claws across each other. Gabby tore her opponent's blouse, then screamed as the riposte ripped off everything above her waist.
The giant witch scampered backwards as the fight twisted towards her feet. She tittered, actually tittered as they rolled past her and under the stool.
Too late, she saw her bag of material spell components was on the floor and directly in their path.
They twirled through the stool legs, blood spattering in all directions. Evil tossed Gabby bodily into the burlap sack, then screamed and leapt after.
There was thrashing somewhere out of sight, then a distinct slap. Then silence.
"Child?" the witch called. She stepped closer, reaching down towards her burlap. "Are you victorious, my creation?"
"Mweh," something muttered, panting heavily from exhaustion. The witch picked up her bag and started to push bags and bottles and banded roots to the side, trying to find the opponents.
She completely bought the act, remembering too late that vampires only breathe to make sounds in their voicebox.
Two matched sets of fangs latched into her skin, on either side of her wrists. Claws dug through flesh to drive to and into bones. And the vampires feasted.
They drank giant blood and gained fantastic powers. Wounds of the last few minutes healed, their strength increased, and their grips tightened.
The witch squealed, dropped her bag and staggered against the wall. She flapped her hand in pain and fear.
Dark chuckles bubbled through the flowing blood. They ripped and bit and opened wounds as more blood than they could ever use flowed over them.
Gabby reveled in the power. Even when the giant hand was beaten almost into the wall she barely felt the impacts.
A sudden gush flowed over her and she realized her twin had opened the vessels in the wrist. Probably with a showy flourish.
The giant's struggles wound down pretty quickly after that. She bounced off the wall, then her stool, then dropped to the dirt floor.
Blood pooled strangely on the 'evil' dirt.
"Huh," Gabrielle said, stepping away from her victim. "You'd think evil dirt would lap up something like blood."
Across the twitching limb, she saw herself smirk and shake her head. "What?" she asked.
"It's rock. The floor is rock. You didn't really believe she could make evil dirt, did you?"
Gabby blushed and turned away. A few yards off, the light was fading from the witch's eyes.
"Why?" she croaked.
"Because I don't want to come to life," Gabrielle said haughtily, "if it's her life I have to live."
"Hey!" Gabby protested.
"Oh, you're fine with it," Gabrielle said with a dismissive wave. "It came to you gradually, you fit. I just can't see...." She shuddered. "Me with a boyfriend."
"He grows on you," Gabby insisted. Gabrielle shrugged it off and glided over to the face of her mistress.
"Bellalaika, dear. Dear, dear Bella," she cooed, stroking the giant's brow. "You shouldn't make evil twins that are more evil than you. Unless they're stupid."
"That's a word no one's ever applied to us," Gabby said. Gabrielle smiled back at her, then stiff-armed her open hand through Bellalaika's eye.
The dying scream drew Terr's attention. He yanked on the reins of his borrowed horse. His fists burned with agony but he never paused.
He arrived to find his tiny friend kneeling between the arms of a blurry, cracked stone form. "The witch is dead?" he asked.
She looked up from the small pile of sand at her knees to the softening form above her.
"Oh, yeah," Gabbishella said. "Well, what took the place of the witch for a while has stopped...moving. But the fact that ...it...was animated means the original died."
Her calm voice bothered Terrpragoh. He would have expected arrogance in her triumph or disdain at her fallen opponent. She seemed...ambivalent.
Gabbishella was never ambivalent. Her mood swings could be maddening, but at least he knew where he stood with her at any given moment.
The giant knelt down on the floor, his head close to the vampire. She lifted a few handfuls of the fine sand on the floor, letting it run out between her fingers.
"Terrpragoh? Am I evil?"
"Quite," he said. She looked up at him. "You've killed for amusement," he explained. "That's evil."
"I've killed to protect you," she pointed out.
"I've always been glad you've been on my side," he replied. "But sneezing a man to death is not the act of a pure soul with the highest of ideals."
He reached over with one finger to stroke her back. She hissed like a cat and arched under his touch.
He tried to move the scraps of her clothing into some sort of covering. But her garments were so ragged he could scarcely pinch anything to lift or stretch into place.
Gabbishella waved him off and stood, yanking the last of her clothes off.
Terr whistled appreciatively, as he'd been instructed. She flashed a smile. It was small and it was brief, but it was a smile.
"So," he finally asked, "why are you suddenly worried about being evil?"
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of death," she misquoted, "I fear no evil. For I have seen the original..."
She dropped the last bit of sand to the floor and floated up into the air. "Take me home, stud. I want to do very bad things to you."
"Okay," he said agreeably. He lifted himself up awkwardly. He held his hands out towards her. "Can you do....anything about...?"
She shook her head. "Let me tell you about a place called Salem...."
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.Gothic Horror comes to Brobdingrag