Bryar Hall

	Tail waving behind her, Grace hurried along the road to Bryar Hall, eager to spend the day with her beloved to celebrate Halloween.  It had always been her favorite holiday, though for years it hadn't mattered as she'd had no-one to share it with.  This year, things were different.  This year, she and Megan could celebrate it together.
	First, however, she had to get there.  All of her friends had warned her against traveling through Ciaran forest on Halloween, even in broad daylight.  Dark spirits lived there, her friends said, ready to spirit innocent vixens away to grim fates.  In the six months Grace and Megan had spent together, Grace had never seen anything more threatening the elderly rabbit doe who spent her days hunting mushrooms among the trees.  This morning, however, something felt off.  Some sense of unease made her walk quickly, fear prickling the back of her neck.
	A mile from the Hall, some dissonant note in the sounds of the forest made Grace slow her pace.  By swiveling her ears, she caught the faintest hint of clinking metal and the tromp of booted feet.  The slight hint of sulfur tickled her nose.  At first, she tried to ignore it.  Megan had told her of a natural hot spring not far from the hall, promising to take her there one day.  Except, this felt different.  The smell together with the noise set her teeth on edge.  Glancing around to make sure she hadn't been seen, Grace left the road to pick her way through the cover of the trees instead.
	When she arrived at Bryar Hall she found it guarded as never before.  With a thick forest all around to shelter her, Duke Bryar had made do with no more servants than her lady's maid and an elderly groundskeeper.  This morning, the first rays of dawn shone on a small army camped all around the front of the hall.  Dozens of tents flying red and black flags dotted the grounds while soldiers in heavy armor tromped hither and thither.  Servants carrying supplies and sacks of food dodged between the men-at-arms.
	She considerd, briefly, simply strolling in.  She'd come to the Hall on the Duke's business - more or less - and perhaps they'd simply let her through.  The sight of an enormous Dobermann prowling the grounds squashed that thought the moment it passed through her head.  The dog, clad in red and black enameled plate armor, towered over is fellow devils by a clear foot and the mere sight of him froze the blood in her veins.
	Pulling the hood of her cloak up to cover her face, Grace inveigled herself with a supply caravan passing through the gates.  Neither the servants nor the guards so much as glanced at her.  Nevertheless, fearing her blonde fur would give her away in a crowd where black and red seemed de rigueur, Grace ducked behind an overgrown topiary.  There, she listened to the clank of armor as the guards passed her hiding place.  Peeping through a gap in the bush, she caught sight of the Dobermann.  Only a faint red glow from his eyes and his large, cracked claws betrayed his nature as a devil from Hell.  Grace's mother had demanded she attend church every day of her kithood and taught her how to recognize the Enemy.
	As if sensing her scrutiny, the devil stopped dead in his tracks, a low growl issuing from his throat.  He squinted left, then right, sniffing the air in great huffs.  Grace hunkered closer to the ground, grateful for her many visits to Bryar Hall over the last year and the Duke's fondness for foxes.  Her scent blended into the overall nasal character of the place.
	No sooner than the thought crossed her mind, the guard turned to face her hiding place.  He took a hesitant step closer.  Then another, his claws gouging strips from the hilt of his pike.  The rumble of his growl grew deeper.
	Grace hunkered lower, trying desperately to dredge her memory for more than the merest fragments of prayer.  She hadn't attended services since she turned sixteen, avoiding religion as much as she could.
	Someone shouted from across the square.  The devil dog whirled around, eyes flaring.  Cursing loudly, he stomped away.
	Sinking back on her haunches, Grace breathed out again.
	After her trembling subsided, she darted from bush to bush, moving ever closer to the hall.  	Most of the activity seemed to be confined to the front, where the broad lawns provided room for such a large company.  The servants' entrance at the back stood unguarded and wide open.  Ordinarily, Grace wouldn't think of using it.  As the Duke's fiancee, her place was Above Stairs.  Today, however, it felt reassuringly quiet and undisturbed, a little piece of the world she thought she knew.  Not wanting to risk meeting another guard, she hurried inside.
	A single lantern lit what seemed to be a large pantry stuffed with food and drink.  Barrels of flour and lentils lined both walls, and vegetables of all descriptions sat wilting gently on their shelves.  Grace tip-toed through the room as quietly as she could, wincing when she barked her shins on half-hidden crates.  Once, she bumped into a table, scooting it a half-inch across the floor and causing a bushel of apples to cascade loudly all over the floor.  She spent ten minutes hiding behind a pile of boxes after, heart hammering in her chest.
	The pantry led to an enormous kitchen, empty now and echoing forlornly with every footstep.  Grace's eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and she made it to the bottom of a wide staircase without further incident.  She took the stairs two at a time, emerging at last into the great ducal dining hall above.
	Megan stood in the middle of the room, peering out of an enormous window.  She turned as Grace approached, her face a mask of fury.  "It isn't time yet!  I... Oh."  The brown rabbit subsided, rearranging her face into a shy smile.  "Hello, my love.  Did you have any trouble getting in?"
	Grace crossed the room and took Megan in her arms.  "Not much."
	Megan nuzzled her softy.  "You're kind to lie.  I should have warned you.  Should have explained.  Only, I never thought this day would come.  Foolish, really."
	Clinging to her beloved, Grace glanced out the window where the armies of the damned labored below.  One particular figure caught her eye.  A tall panthress, with flaming eyes, curving horns and a cruel sneer on her face.  She wore nothing save a what appeared to be a bustier of some red metal that glimmered like flames in the light, and a matching thong.  Given the way the others bowed and cowered as she passed, she had to be the leader.
	"Megan?"  Grace said.  "What the devil is going on?"
	Megan laughed, a light, mirthless sound.  "What an apt question.  This is the fruit of youthful foolishness.  After seeing how my parents worked and scraped every day just to feed my brother and me, and how they died in poverty, I vowed the same wouldn't happen to me.  I searched the world over for dark tomes and fell reagents and... I made a bargain.  One hundred years of power and wealth in exchange for my soul."
	Grace drew Megan back a step from the window, for fear the devil below might see them.  "And she's come to collect, has she?  I somehow expected the Dark Lord to be a bit... grander."
	"And so he is.  Or so the stories say.  Mortals never see him," Megan said.  "She is Vorpal, Hell's contract specialist, and she's quite bad enough, believe me!"
	With an effort, Grace tore her attention away from the scene below.  "Why did you never tell me any of this?"
	Megan turned her face away.  "I didn't want you to hate me."
	Gripping the rabbit's chin, Grace turned Megan's head to gaze into her eyes.  "I could never hate you.  However you may have gained your power, you have wielded it lightly and with care.  Your people are better off than ever before.  Tell me what I can do to help."
	Megan kissed her, sending sparks shooting down Grace's spine to tingle all the way to her toes.  Pulling her love tighter to her, Grace returned the kiss, wishing she could freeze time in this moment.
	After too short a time, Megan pushed her gently away.  "You can do nothing for me.  Go home.  They will kill you if they find you here."
	"They don't frighten me!" Clenching her fists, Grace fought against the jelly in her legs that would betray her.  "Give me a sword, and I will fight them all for you."
	"No mortal weapon can hurt them."  Nibbling at a claw, as she often did when thinking, Megan turned to the window again.  "There is only one chance.  Today is Halloween and tonight, we ride to the great crossroads a mile from here, there to present an offering to Hell.  That would be me.  There, if the stories are right, only true love's sacrifice might save me."
	"Anything I can give, I will," Grace said.  "Even my life."
	"No!"  Shoving her back harder this time, Megan glared at her.  "I forbid it utterly!  I will not have you suffer for my foolishness.  Now go home.  Please.  She is coming."
	Glancing at the courtyard, Grace caught a glimpse of Vorpal stalking toward the front doors.  She came flanked by guards, including the Dobermann Grace had encountered earlier.
	As the great doors of the Hall boomed open, Grace stole a last kiss.  "Hell will get no sacrifice this year.  I promise."
	With the devils' footsteps echoing on the floor below, Grace turned and fled the way she'd come.

<<>>

	Grace crouched behind a large bush near the crossroads, peering around one side into the forest around her.  With midnight drawing near, it felt even less friendly than it had that morning.  A full moon rode overhead, filling the trees with cold shadows.  Soft, formless voices whispered to her.  Strange things rustled in the undergrowth and peered out at her. eyes shimmering in the moonlight.  She clutched the cleaver she'd taken from Megan's kitchen in trembling hands.
	The braying of a single, shrill horn shattered the night.  Her heart leaping into her throat, Grace drew back.  Just in time.  Hoofbeats sounded on the road behind her, bringing with them the clatter of armor and cruel laughter.  The crossroads lay just a few feet ahead and the devils sounded confident in their victory.
	The Dobermann came into view first.  He carried a long pike bedecked with his Mistress's banner, oozing self-importance.  A dozen lesser fiends capered behind him, laughing and tussling with one another like children.  For all their merriment, however, they carefully avoided the flame-eyed panthress.  She strutted along the road leading a huge, black stallion which bore Megan on his back.  Gagged and blindfolded, the brown rabbit rode sidesaddle, her wrists and ankles bound with chains of gold.
	Finding courage from somewhere, Grace sprang to her feet.  "Stop right there, foul fiends!"
	The devilish procession stopped dead in its tracks.  The dobermann snarled, leveling his pike at Grace.  The lesser devils screeched and gibbered, throwing leers and obscene gestures at her.  Megan cried out what might have been a warning, though the gag stopped from being able to do more than moan.
	Hands cocked on her hips, Vorpal turned to sneer at Grace. "'Stop right there foul fiends'?  Is that truly the best you can do?"
	Grace waved her cleaver at the devil.  "I have come to rescue my beloved and there is nothing you can do to stop me."
	Sighing theatrically, Vorpal shook her head.  "Not this again.  Have you any idea how often this kind of thing happens?"  She crooked a finger at the dobermann.  "Show her what happens to fools who dare meddle in my business."
	Growling loudly, the dobermann lunged at Grace.  Leaping back, Grace narrowly avoided being skewered.
	Wriggling in her bonds, Megan lashed out with her feet.  Her claws clipped the dobermann across his muzzle.  He rounded on her, murder in his eyes.
	Rushing forward, Grace slashed him with her cleaver.  It bit true, carving a gash down one arm.  The Dobermann howled, stumbling back.  No blood flowed from the wound.  Rather, a thick, sulfur-stinking ooze spilled on ground, smoking where it fell.
	Dropping her knife, Grace ran over to Megan's horse.  Wrapping both arms around the doe's waist, she pulled Megan to the ground.  With another muffled cry, Megan stumbled and fell, landing on top of Grace in the middle of the road.
	Her flesh singing in fear of another strike from the Dobermann, Grace managed to pull herself to her knees, her arms still around Megan.  "She is mine!  You cannot have her!"
	"We have a contract, she and I," Vorpal said.  "One hundred years of power and glory for one mortal soul."
	Megan's face twisted and she spat something muffled but angry.
	"She told me."  Grace tugged at the blindfold on Megan's eyes, the gag keeping her silent, but each slipped through her fingers and would not shift.  "But you lied.  What power can anyone have without the power to determine your own fate?"
	Vorpal scoffed and gestured to the dobermann again.  "This one annoys me.  Kill her."
	"No!"  Tightening her grip on her beloved, Grace cringed away from the devilish dog.  "I'll buy her contract out.  Fair price."
	"Will you, indeed?"  Vorpal snapped her fingers, freezing her minions in place.  "True love's sacrifice?"
	"Whatever it takes," Grace said.  "She's worth more to me than my life's blood."
	The black panthress grinned, showing sharp fangs.  "This will be fun."  She gestured and spat a word in a tongue Grace had never heard before.
	Megan screamed under her gag as a bright red light enveloped her.  A heartbeat later, her bonds split, gold shackles melting, clothing burning away.  Her back arched and a venomous hiss issued from her mouth as she changed.  Her soft brown fur sloughed away in clumps, revealed slick scales beneath.  Claws sprouted from her fingertips and a long, forked tongue flicked the air.  Where Megan had been crouched a large lizard with blood red skin.
	"Salamander!" Vorpal crowed.  "Scion of flame.  If your love burns as hot as you say, you will not let go."
	Hissing louder than ever, the lizard burst into flame.  Searing agony shot along Grace's arms as her fur burned away.  Sharp claws raked at her legs until her blood flowed.
	Gritting her teeth against the pain, Grace held the beast tight.  "Do not fear.  I am with you."
	Sill grinning, Vorpal barked out another word and stamped her foot.  The flames quenched instantly and the thing Megan had become screeched louder than ever as she doubled in size.  Wings sprouted from her forelimbs and her snout grew longer and narrower.
	The panthress threw her arms wide, like a showman.  "Wyvern, full of venom and hate!  If your heart beats only for your your beloved, it will not be stilled by the creature's bite!"
	Heavy wings battered against Grace's body while the wyvern coiled its sinuous body around her, squeezing tight.  Even when it bit her sharply on one shoulder, Grace shut her eyes and would not let go.  Cold venom coursed through her, making her limbs weak and her wounds throb with fresh pain.  She ran her fingers gently over Megan's snout.  "I will save you, my love.  No matter that it takes."
	"You are stronger than I guessed, girl," Vorpal said  "Very well.  None can survive the manticore!"
	Thick, prickly fur sprouted from the wyvern's scales.  Wings split and folded in on themselves to become massive claw-tipped legs, while the creature's tail grew longer and wickedly barbed.  Most painful of all, it grew Megan's face, her features twisted in a rictus of pain.  Megan cried out, her voice a raspy, wheezing roar.
	Grace, suddenly straddling the beasts back, wrapped her arms around its neck.  It mane, stiff as iron, scratched her arms, causing fresh blood to flow.  Its tail lashed at her, knocking the breath from her lungs.  All the while, the creature raced in circles, shaking violently to try to dislodge her.  It bit at everything, except Vorpal, even savaging one of her gibbering minions who got too close.  This made the beast choke and claw desperately at its muzzle.
	Without thinking, Grace reached down and hauled the screeching devil out of the manticore's mouth.  This earned her a bite, the manticore's teeth sinking to the bone.  Tears sprang to Grace's eyes, but she didn't cry out.  "Whatever may become of us, I am with you.  Always."
	The devil scurried away to hide behind Vorpal, shouting and shaking its fist the whole way.  Scowling, Vorpal clapped her hands  "Enough!"
	A bright crimson glow surrounded the panthress, flooding the clearing with light and forcing Grace to look away.  For a moment, she had a sensation of falling.  The pain and weakness coursing through her faded rapidly.
	The light snapped off, plunging everything into darkness for the space of a breath.  Grace landed on the ground with a bump, Megan still held tight in her arms.  Shaking her head, she blinked rapidly, bringing the forest, and her foe, back into focus.
	Vorpal stood alone in the middle of the road, a parchment scroll in her hands.  The rest of the devils had vanished.  When Grace dared look, she found Megan lying in her arms, stark naked but otherwise unharmed.  The fur on Grace's arms had grown back and all pain had fled.
	Slapping the scroll lightly against one palm, Vorpal glowered down at them.  "It has been a thousand years since since any mortal showed such courage as you have.  The contract is null.  She is yours."
	Tossing the scroll down, Vorpal crushed it beneath her heel.  Flames spurted briefly and the stink of burned parchment filled the air.  The black panthress leaned down to look Grace in the eyes.  "Don't think I'll forget about this.  Watch your step, little fox, and be mindful of any contracts you sign."
	Turning on her heel, Vorpal strode into the forest, leaving Grace and Megan alone in the clearing.
	With a soft sigh Megan opened her eyes and pushed herself upright.  "You're out of your mind, challenging her like that.  You know that, don't you?"
	Removing her cloak, Grace wrapped it around Megan's shoulders.  "I know."
	Megan smiled and leaned against her, resting her head on Grace's shoulder.  "You're also the kindest, bravest person I've ever met.  Next to that, her power is but a whisper in the wind.  I knew you'd win."
	Grace rubbed an arm in wonder at its lack of wounds.  "So did she, I think.  Pity her pride wouldn't let her admit it."
	Clutching the cloak around her neck, Megan struggled to her feet.  "Let's go home.  I've had enough Halloween tricks for one year."
	Rising, Grace wrapped an arm around Megan's waist.  "I'd say we've both earned a treat for tonight's work.  Wouldn't you?"