Malleable

She was babbling, but reassured by Lucinda's easy, warm smile. It was contagious. Her own grin surprised her when she felt it as a single finger traced her own lips, still tingling from the intimate exchange. "For the kisses."

The taller woman's smile broadened, showing a wide swath of white teeth. Tosha couldn't resist. Two quick steps and she was on her toes, stretching up to kiss those beautiful smiling lips. It surprised them both, ending as quickly as it began.

The screen door banged open as Tosha fled, to her faded car, away from...she wasn't sure what. At least she wasn't that floating, rudderless leaf any more. The last kiss had been entirely of her volition, even if it was spontaneous, unplanned.

She resisted the urge to check for the arrow under the car's seat as she drove off. Instead she fingered the leather packet still bound to her throat before again tracing over her lips, remembering kisses recent and distant, in an herb-filled kitchen and beside a calm pool populated by shadowy trout.

———

Once home, Tosha closed the blinds hanging over each window and made sure to double-lock the door. She unfolded the leather cover, gazing down at the arrow, it's menacingly dark, stained wood and the pristine, untarnished golden point. What good was a magic arrow if she didn't have a bow?

She didn't even realize she was fiddling with the amulet until it fell into her hand, the leather strap suddenly untied. One side of strap came to rest draped over the shining gold arrowhead. It took only a moment to re-align the pouch at her throat, reach behind her head to tie the strap again. There was no sensation in touching her own sensitive nape, but it did refresh the memory of Lucinda's kiss there.

Tosha noticed that the tough string that held the point to the shaft, stained and shriveled with age and more, looked as though it was about to unwind. She looked more closely, realizing the binding was sinew or gut, wrapped tight but unknotted. Most likely it had been soaked, then wrapped and allowed to shrink tight as it dried. Not most likely, though: she knew it was so, just like she had seen details in the the vision of the small boy and the panther, things that hadn't been spoken.

She jumped, unnerved when the amulet fell again. The pouch and strap slid free of her neck with no resistance, landing in a pile on the arrowhead. She frowned, knowing she had tied it securely.

Her frown grew: the ancient binding unraveled, gave way as she watched. The gold point wasn't entirely loose, but it was no longer secured to the shaft, not in any way that it would stay in place if an archer attempted to shoot it from a bow

She lifted the glimmering metal triangle free, letting it rest in her open palm. It was beautiful and horrible. She could feel the power in it, the purity, the protection. But also the pain of the screaming death it had brought. Pain and supernatural rage.

Instinct guided her then, without the doubt and resistance of rational thought. Her hands knew what to do and had no intention to be second guessed by any supposed reason or logic. Her fingers moved with the same deft confidence Lucinda's had in fashioning their pendants.

The leather strap was lashed around the point's flared base. She held the crude necklace out, amulet and arrowhead both attached. Certainty had replaced the doubt and confusion swirling through her: yes, the leather pouch should be a counter in front, inline with her throat. But, no, her nape and the base of her skull, so vulnerable to McAlister's touch, was key, needing its own more direct defense.

When she tied the the assembly around her neck this time the knot held, giving no indication it might suddenly slip off again. The pouch and its contents nestled at the base of her throat while the golden point pressed heavy against her uppermost spine, covered over by the brown hair that hung to her shoulders.

Done with their instinctual task, her fingers fidgeted. The stained shaft of the ancient arrow, now devoid of its broad deadly tip kept drawing her eyes, her attention. Powerful feelings welled up, more hate than anger, her deepest urges crying out silent alarm toward the danger, the wrongness of whatever, whoever had left those dark, Ill-wrought stains.

She yawned. It felt later than she thought it should be. Today had been a long, strange, unsettling day. Demonstrating the supreme malleability of gold for the girls seemed an age ago, a relic of a more innocent time that might never return. Exhaustion nudged her toward bed and the hope of peaceful, mindless slumber free of eldritch threats and danger.

Once in her small bedroom, she reached behind her head for the leather knot. She had never felt comfortable sleeping with jewelry on.

Before fingers could tug the knot free, a sharp wrapping knock came from the front door. Tosha started, suddenly alert. Who...?

Moving through the small living room to door, she saw She spied the remains of the arrow. Unwilling to even touch the blood-stained wood, finger pinched the thin shaft on the lighter wood nearer the fletchings. She shoved it under the couch chair before going to the door.

Cheryl Mueller's hand was reaching out to again knock. Her other hand rested on Sara's back. The girl's eyes looked glazed. Tosha noticed the practiced look of concern on the banker's face.

"Tosha? Thank god you're alright." Cheryl pushed her daughter forward as soon as the door was opened. The taller woman followed in, uninvited. Her eyes flashed briefly to the pendant retied more securely around Tosha's throat.

"I have to apologize, you were right. That skinny black bitch got my Sara high, then tried to almost drag her into that bastard McAlister's house. Sara is sure he has the girl in the house now. I don't know what's going on there, but he's a danger." Cheryl's words tumbled out in a rush, with little of her usual iron control.

"I called Chief Burr. He's on his way here now. Please, Tosha, will you go with us to confront him - McAlister? I am so sorry. I should have listened to you." The normally stoic woman seemed close to tears.

Bright, blue lights flashed soundlessly through the still-open front door as a patrol car pulled up, skidding in the thin layer of sandy gravel. The banker was tugging at Tosha's arm. "Please, Tosha."

Chief Burr was striding over her lawn when she surprised to see Lucinda, close behind.

Why were those two together?

Coco's mother spoke. Unexpectedly seeing the long-limbed woman, in the same clinging dress, stirred a warmth low in Tosha's belly, high between her thighs. It would feel so good to just step close, pull her down for a soft, hungry, wet kiss, leave all this confusion behind. "Now they believe us, girl. Even him."

Lucinda nodded toward the pudgy Chief, his too-tight starched shirt stretched over his gut.

Even without acting on the whole out-of-character urge to make out with a woman she'd just met in front of these others, the bruja's presence reassured Tosha in a way that Cheryl and the Chief would not have. "Okay. Let's go."

She noticed the banker staring past her, quickly leaving their focus when Tosha's attention went back to her.

"Let's do this thing. Clock's a-ticking." Burr called, beckoning with one arm. Tosha followed Sara and her mother, the last to leave. As she pulled her door closed she looked back in the direction Cheryl had been staring.

Black feathers on a wooden shaft peaked out from under the couch.

———

Burr knocked at the solid wood door of the mansion, stepped back mumbling an apology when it opened almost immediately.

"No trouble at all. Come in, officer." Anthony McAlister was all saccharine smiles.

"Chief."

"My apologies, of course. Chief. And ladies. Welcome." His eyes went to Lucinda and Tosha thought she saw a hint of a snarl curl his perfect upper lip. Almost but not quite a smile, definitely not a warm one. Then his eyes were on her, his whole focussed attention. She felt warm, and weak, and unsure of everything she had heard and seen in the past long day.

The smile that had seemed so phony when aimed at Burr now radiated sincerity. "T..Tosha? Is that you?"

"Hello, Tony."

"It's Anthony now. But you can call me Tony. For old time's sake." He was holding the door open, as the Chief, followed by the Sara and the two tall women, filed in. His eyes ignored them, staying fixed on Tosha.

"Please, come in. I've thought about you over the years, especially since I moved back to town." She walked through his door almost numb, except when she passed closest to him. Her breath caught and a shiver ran down her spine, starting at the base of her skull.

She seemed to catch a hint of his scent, an image of shimmering sunlight on leaves demarking a shady glen, near a slow moving stream. A rightness, a completeness that had been absent in other encounters, other arousals and climaxes, suddenly returned, as though it had never been gone.

The door closed. Tosha turned, noticed Lucinda staring stiffly. Her mind was clearer as soon as she was past Tony - Anthony - no, the brujo. The label brought clarity.

Lucinda's shoulders were rigid. Tosha looked past her, saw a dark, long figure reclined on a long, old-fashioned sofa, past a narrow, empty wooden table in the dimly lit room. It was Coco. She was entirely naked, entirely exposed, smiling at her mother.

Chief Burr stepped behind the frozen woman. A metallic rasping sound broke the silence as handcuffs were locked on her slim wrists, locking her long arms behind her back.

Tosha started forward, but McAlister held up one finger, his eyes again fixed on her.

"Stay."

She could think, but without trying she could not speak, and her legs would not respond at all. He winked at her before turning his attention to Lucinda.

He leaned close, running his nose along the elegant dark neck. Tosha remembered that nose nuzzling her, and her own kisses, so recently, on that lovely neck. She knew without a doubt that McAlister could sense those kisses now.

He sniffed close against the protective amulet. His eyes still on Tosha, his tongue flicked out, tasted the pendant. Like a snake or a lizard might taste the air.

"Impressive. More advanced than I'd assumed. And utterly useless."

His hands found slim hips, sliding upward. He frowned; gingerly lifted her shirt by the hem, exposing a compact cloth satchel against brown smooth skin. "Remove that, Constable."

The Chief did not correct him this time, but tugged a small folding knife from his belt, flipped the wide, half-serrated blade open with one hand. It sliced through the cloth strap and a pudgy hand caught the bag as it dropped.

It disappeared into a drawer in a heavy dresser McAlister had indicated with his chin.

"The lady came prepared." His hands renewed their slow journey up her torso, palms against her flanks. Thumbs dragged languidly over nipples, bringing a sorrowful groan from deep in her throat. Tosha's own nipples hardened, tingling, as she watched and they remembered.

One hand stayed there while the other moved up to cup a delicate chin. A single finger tugged, tenderly, down on Lucinda's full lower lip. "Open."

Lips parted at the effortless command, showing bright white teeth. The brujo leaned close to the bruja. They were nearly the same height, but he still seemed to loom over her.

"Give me your breath." Tosha felt a rush of jealousy as she watched his chest rise, sucking air from the woman's lungs.

"Now, take mine." The hand on her chin slipped around, settling on the back oh her neck. A deep shudder passed through her frame, but the short chain holding her cuffed wrists never stretched tight. There was no resistance at all.

Tosha's vision dimmed almost to a tunnel at the rage she felt, the bitter envy as she watched chest and now-erect nipples rise, taking in Anthony' sweet, euphoric breath. Breath that should be hers.

"Good girl."

At the center of the craving-fueled tunnel, Tosha saw his thumb move, massaging the back of the slender neck, under the large bun of braided hair. Lucinda's back arched violently, her head thrown back as her mouth opened in a throaty scream. Now the long arms did strain against the handcuffs as her body erupted in helpless climax.

The sudden arch left her off balance and she fell, knees giving way, legs collapsing under her. There was a hollow thud as her head hit the hardwood floor. Eyes rolled back, sightless, as her body continued to strain under the involuntary orgasm. When the shaking subsided, Lucinda's body was limp, unconscious on the floor or worse, mouth and eyes slackly open, arms held twisted beneath her, and long legs doubled up, exposed by the gossamer skirt in a tangle around her waist.

The silence was broken by Coco. The young girl laughed at her mother, dead to the world in a broken heap on the floor.

"Cheryl." The single word brought the demanding, commanding woman to heel, alert and eager to serve. The money broker who lorded it over politicians, business owners, and multimillionaires quivered like a retriever puppy waiting to hear 'fetch'. Her eyes were wide as she awaited his bidding, her face flushed, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. "It's time. Bring me your daughter. Let's see what you have for me."

Sara stood in place, as frozen as Tosha, but her eyes darted about the room, to her mother, to McAlister, to the corrupt Chief of Police, a pointy bulge now tenting his uniform trousers below his belt, and the belly it undercut. At least young Sara was still sane, showing fear in this place of horrors. But her body was betraying her.

When her mother's hands positioned the girl's arms over her head, they stayed there, even when Cheryl tugged her tight t-shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor near Lucinda's limp form.

Tosha could hear the wet, panicked breathing through Saraes nose as her own mother worked her snug jeans down over curvy hips, leaving the reddening redhead naked and exposed. As wild and fearful as her eyes were, Sara seemed unable to even cry.

"Now put her on the table for me." Cheryl obeyed. One hand on each of her own daughter's upper arms, she moved the petrified girl to the bare wood, pushed the unresisting body back until Sara was sitting on the tables edge, her toes still on the floor, her mother, her betrayer, close in front of her.

"Is she wet?"

Without hesitation or hurry, the banker reached out, grabbed her daughters knees, spread her soft, naked legs. One hand went directly, tactlessly to her young hairless crotch. Sara winced but made no sound or attempt to resist.

Cheryl shook her head. Dropping both hands to her sides. McAlister nodded as though he had expected as much.

"Coco." The young girl's eyes brightened immediately. "Get your little friend ready for me. Cheryl, it's time for our Constable's just reward."

Cheryl nodded as the the naked black girl rose from the couch, a hungry smile on her face. The banker unbuttoned her own blouse, exposing her large, bra-encased breasts. Burr licked his lips, nervous and lustful, as the taller woman stepped close to him, running her fingers through his thin hair. She moved with an odd grace, lithe and sensual, slipping behind him, her hands reaching to stroke and tug at his belt and tenting groin.

The Chief's eyes locked on the slender, dark, naked girl stepping close to the banker's shorter, much paler daughter, every bit as naked. Tosha could see a small wet spot between Cheryl's fingers, at the point the lawman's pants tented furthest.

Her attention was drawn back to Coco, hands cradling Sara's face, pulling her in. Their lips met an instant after Coco's parted, allowing a long pink tongue to slip out. The kiss was not hurried, but it immediately was deep, wet, wanton. Tosha wondered if the girls had kissed before. Sara was already groaning, lifting her chest to strain closer.

Coco pulled her mouth away, licking her shiny lips as Sara's mouth moved, silently begging for more. Instead, Coco laughed again. Her long fingers found Sara's soft, full breasts. One twisted, pulling hard on a pink nipple, hard enough to cause pain.

Sara didn't cry out, or whimper or wince. Tongue hanging out,she panted. Her legs spread wide, welcoming Coco closer.

Tosha couldn't take her eyes off the two young students. The tunnel-vision was gone along with her aching jealousy. A throbbing, hungry lust built in her belly. Though her eyes were not hers to move, she was aware of two things near the edges of her sight.

Cheryl now licked and nibbled at the Chief's pasty neck below his ear as her hands tugged harder at his crotch. His skin shine with sweat.

Across from those two, Anthony McAlister, the brujo, was smiling, watching Coco seduce Sara at his request. As Tosha's attention went to him, even though her eyes could not, the tension in her belly redoubled. He seemed to sense it and turned to face her.

Coco pushed Sara back, not ungently. The curvy redhead fell onto her back on the table, chest rising with each heaving breath. The standing girl, close between the other's thighs, dropped to her knees. Her face lowered.

McAlister stepped in front of Tosha, blocking the girls from her sight as Sara released a high-pitched moan.

"That should have been you, Tosha." His voice was soft, but it shattered her. Her eyes went to his, so full, so deep, so beautiful. "I so wanted it to be you."

He was so close, his scent heavy in the air, her mind swirling with the heady effect. He shrugged. "But, for this one time, I need a virgin. We were so close, Tosha, but you ran away. And you let yourself be despoiled."

He pouted. Sadness on those perfect lips made her suddenly, irrationally want to cry out at the injustice. "Perhaps it's all for the best. Now I get to keep you, make you my favorite. Little Sara will be a tool, to bring me what I need. It would have been such a waste to use you that way, sweet Tosha. To have to discard you, just as I come into my full power."

She gasped as a wrenching, intense sensation shot through her body, centered on her tender breasts. Untouched, she felt her nipples shrink in tight, dark skin crinkling inward as the centers pushed out through her shirt. Without looking, unable to tear her eyes from his, she knew his hands hovered inches over her chest.

No touch had ever brought her the pleasure his had, years ago. Now he brought it again, and more, without even touching her.as the tension in her but twisted, leapt, again, she felt herself moisten, open, leak wetly down her thighs. Her nipples stayed painfully erect as the presence of his hands receded.

He chuckled, pulling lightly on the amulet around her neck. He nodded toward Lucinda. "Our tall, dark, and lovely friend was supposed to distract you, keep you feeling safe, and I see she performed most admirably. Did you really think this would save you? From me? Did you truly want to be saved?"

Somehow his fingers were between them, twirling what looked like the same tarnished brass tube he had smoked from by the creek, so long ago. He put one end to his lips and the other end glowed. No lighter was needed. He drew in a deep hit, the cherry burning bright before her eyes.

"I know now it is the breath, not the smoke. I do this for you, Tosha. For old, good times."

His lips were parted as he leaned in close. So close. Her body was held so she couldn't even shake; thought she must soon explode.

"Open."

She did. Already, she could see a tiny whorl of shadowy smoke trailing out of the one smirky corner of his wonderful lips. Not quite corporeal, it was a more defined, crisper version of the wisp rising from Lucinda's herbs and that heavy butcher block, so seasoned with charms and cooking, magic and meals.

"Breath in."

She had no choice. He exhaled, she inhaled his breath and the smoke. Pleasure, ecstasy and promise filled her like a floodlight in the dark. How could she have lived without him? Now could she have considered that living?