The Dirt Road Accord

"Okay Rhys, we don't have a lot of time for faffing about? So try not to let any of them drag you away for a fuck."

The elf prince does his best to maintain an air of dignity at that, though his suddenly red cheeks do him no favors. "Um, got it."

Normally you wouldn't be worried about girls being unable to resist a boy who's still got a bit of bat pee on him, but the Woo Girls aren't exactly picky. And, it's worth saying, Rhys is a fucking hunk. The now ruined jean jacket was pretty stylish, sure, but without it he's just a fit as all hell prince in a tight tee shirt carrying a witch inside a pillow case. Is that last part sexy? Even if it isn't, you're certain the Woo Girls will figure out a way to find it sexy. Better take a peek inside the barn to see what the situation is. A few of the girls are curled up in one corner, slogging through their GED test preps, but most are exactly where you'd expect them. Namely, writhing all over the delivery boys that brought today's food.

There's only four cocks for the entire herd of Woo Girls, but luckily they don't mind sharing. So while four girls blissfully ride their partners in a wild cowgirl, three of the remaining four put their boys' tongues to work as they sit and shudder atop their faces. Except Buzz, you can't help notice; she's apparently content to curl up beside her partner for some cuddly smooching while Pixie bounces on his outlandishly sized dick. That's fucking adorable? But you don't have time for it right now.

Luckily, Bangs notices your entrance and has the wherewithal to lift herself off of the gangly delivery boy who'd been feverishly eating her out. She starts to stride over on wobbly legs, calling out the beginning of a cheery greeting, only to stop dead in her tracks when she notices Rhys. Oh boy; here it comes. You should have just let the prince mind your prisoner outside. But to your deep surprise, the nymphomaniacal Woo Girl demurely lowers her head and dips in a goddamned curtsy. "Your Royal Highness."

Jenny raises her eyebrows at that, shooting you a befuddled look. You desperately want to ask some questions right now, but again. No fucking time. "Is that old birdcage still in the back?"

She curtsies again, which is really starting to freak you out, before quickly scampering off to fetch what's going to have to serve as a makeshift prison for the moment. Because Gal has more or less flooded the pillowcase by this point, and you're not exactly at the level of being willing to let your enemies suffocate in a urine-soaked bag. You're a softie like that. Still, no reason not to play it safe as possible. When Bangs returns with the birdcage you carefully etch every inch of it with runes, its bars visibly pulsing with energy by the time you throw open the door and shake the disoriented, filthy bat inside.

Jenny frowns down at your captive as you bar the birdcage shut, nervously twirling her bat against the ground. "So what do we do with her?"

"Well, I think we all agree we can't just keep her." Jenny nods in agreement, and you pull the phone Gal had thrown at you out of your pocket. "But we can use her as a bargaining chip."

"So she's definitely working with others, then?"

"Oh yeah, no doubt. Even if she hadn't said as much herself, there's clearly more going on here." There aren't any texts on her phone, but the call log hasn't been erased. The most recent one was the call that was meant to blow up the bomb, and the next must be the delivery she ordered to take her to the barn. But all of the calls after that seem to be to one single number. "This might be it. Should I call?"

Jenny hesitantly nods. "Put it on speaker."

You press on the contact and open a call, the dial tone droning over the background of fuck noises. Oh jeez, Bangs is still waiting patiently like some sort of well-mannered servant. "Um, Bangs, you can go back to what you were doing." The Woo Girl curtsies again, then rushes off to plant her dripping pussy back onto the face of her selected delivery boy. That's more like it.

It takes some effort to hold back your gasp when the phone stops ringing and an annoyed voice sounds out from the phone. "Yes? What's happened now?"

Bat-Gal squeaks in annoyance, flapping her wings in what strikes you as a particular sulky way as Jenny growls at the other end of the call. "What's happened is that we kicked your gross as fuck buddy's ass. A fucking bomb? Who the hell do you think you are?!"

The voice at the other end is silent for a moment, eventually crackling out a low chuckle. "I told her that wouldn't work. Probably wouldn't have broken your wards anyway. Goddamn impatient is what it was; that always makes you sloppy."

Jenny 'tsk's. "Unless you start talking about what you're going to do to make this right, the only thing 'sloppy' around here is going to be your friend after I bash her goddamn head in."

The other end chuckles again. "You're all at the barn, right? Maybe what I'll do is go over to your house, Jennifer. See how your mom can help me 'make things right'."

Jenny hisses in outrage as you cut in. "Okay, spare us the movie villain bullshit. If you could do something like that, you already would have. We're too strong for that sort of dumb frontal attack and you know it. You're just being boring now."

The voice seems somewhat less amused now. "Ashley. Nice to hear from you."

Fucking what? Oh God, you are so sick of this already. "Look, here's what's going to happen. You're coming here, alone. We're going to work out some sort of ceasefire. Then you can take this goddamn piss-fountaining creep back with you. Otherwise, we're just going to take the free win and knock a known enemy off the board."

"Okay sure, I'll do that. I can be there in twenty minutes."

Okay, that was way too easy. Rhys clearly agrees, because he quickly leans over to whisper something into your ear. You have...no idea what this is supposed to mean, but you suppose the prince thinks you should say it. "Mother Fulla welcomes the peaceful, just as she scorns the wicked. Come with an open heart, or not at all."

As you speak, a rattling energy expands out from your chest, racing out to fill the room before collapsing in on the phone. The voice at the end is silent for a long moment, sounding deeply resentful when she finally deigns to speak again. "Ugh, fuck you Ashley. Fuck. Fine. Whatever." As she begins to rattle off bullet points, you can feel the buzz of energy solidifying into a binding contract between the two of you. "I will come alone. I will attempt no deceit or attack. Should no accord be made, I will immediately leave. Should no accord be made, I will attempt no deceit or attack for a period of three days."

You cut in. "You and any co-conspirators known or unknown to us."

"Fuck you, Ashley. Yes, fine. Consider my previous statements amended. Should I or any of those I speak for not abide by these oaths, we will be subject to whatever freaky punishment your weird-ass sex cult does."

Okay. That sounds clear cut enough. Guess it's your turn. "I will come alone. I will attempt no deceit or attack, nor will my allies. Should no accord be made, you will be free to leave. Should no accord be made, I will attempt no deceit or attack for a period of three days and neither will any of my allies. Should I or any of those I speak for not abide by these oaths, we will be subject to whatever freaky punishment our weird-ass sex cult does."

With that, the contract is formed. A kissy sound pops on the other end of the call. "I'm ten minutes out. Hope you're wearing something tight."

You grit your teeth at that, holding up the bird cage to give Bat-Gal a bit of side eye. "I already hate this one more than I hate you."

You're going to choose to interpret her squeaks as agreement.

Eleven minutes later you're standing out in Isabelle's driveway, holding a birdcage with a sulky bat and wondering if you look as stupid as you feel. Jenny seemed to think so, though that was less about how silly you appear and more about the fact that you've gone out to meet up with one enemy all by yourself while carrying another enemy with you. And sure, yeah. She's definitely got a point. But she didn't feel the full extent of the magical contract you formed. Honestly? You almost hope this other witch tries to double-cross you. Because if she did, you have absolutely zero doubt that you'd be down several foes and up an equal number of docile milky bimbos.

You're a little disappointed when a light shines up the end of the driveway and a motorcycle appears in the distance. These witches seem a little....well, witchier than your whole deal. And while it might be childish, you were really hoping she'd ride in on a broom. Not that that black Suzuki isn't hot as fuck. You're a significantly lower speed with your Vespa, but you'd absolutely be down for a ride on a piece of space-age engineering like that. Assuming it wasn't, you know. Being piloted by someone who probably wants to **** you.

The rider gives her engine a final rev before booting out her kickstand, all tight jeans and leathers with her face covered by a spiderweb-inked helmet. She takes a moment to knock some dust from the Vargas-Holt's dirt road off her jacket before turning to face you. Or, more accurately, face her compatriot stuck in the birdcage. "Wow. Seriously? Woowww. How can someone who's invisible all the goddamn time get caught this badly, Nell?"

Whoa, hold the fucking phone. "'Nell'?"

The rider shrugs. "That's just what we call her. By the time we met, she'd gone so apeshit that she'd forgotten her own name. It's from a movie? Liam Nieson is this doctor and--"

You interrupt her; no one is going to out-obscure-movie you. "And Jodie Foster is a feral girl he finds, got it. We've just been calling her Gal."

It's the rider's turn to adopt a curious posture. "Gal?"

"Yeah. It's, um, short for 'Galigula'."

She actually barks a laugh at that. "Ha! Well that's at least clever. Mistress just called her 'Dog'."

Mistress? Wait...does that mean...? "So you're the Dean's apprentices, then? Or whatever?"

"Oh, I think we prefer the term 'heirs'. And we'd very much appreciate if you'd get off of our fucking throne."

You narrow your eyes, lifting up the bird cage and shaking it at the other girl. "Can we cut the ominous threats and get on with this? She fucking stinks."

The rider chuckles again. "She always does. So how about this? Let's kick the ball down the field for now. I mean,"--She lifts her arms, motioning dismissively to your surroundings--"This is so not the proper setting for a real witch's gathering. We aren't even in thunder, lightning, or in rain!"

"And the hurlyburly is hardly done. I'll leave it up to you whether the battle's lost and won."

The other witch slowly lowers her arms, and you can feel her eyes running up and down your body. "...You're too smart, Ashley. It's not cute. It's not one of your more attractive qualities."

"Aw gee, and I'm absolutely torn up about it. Can we get back to kicking this ball down the fucking field?"

The rider fires a finger gun that she absolutely knows annoys you even further. "You're so sensitive! That is one of your more attractive qualities." She raises her hands defensively before you can respond, quickly moving on. "Let's do this: We're already under a ceasefire for the next three days, right? So how about I take Nell, or Gal or whatever with me, and at the end of the ceasefire we'll have a full on summit at the Dead Tree. Get this whole succession business settled. That'd be on Thursday." She outstretches a hand to take the birdcage, the magical bond between you tightening with her new offer. "Deal?"

Hm. At first blush, you seem to be giving up more than you're gaining. But...by agreeing to this summit, she's effectively forcing her whole operation out of the shadows. The only two options left would be a straight up fight or peace, and you both seem fully aware that your position is the stronger one. This might be exactly what you needed. Still though. About all that coming out of the shadows business. "Take off your helmet first."

The rider's arm quavers for a moment, and you think she might actually refuse. But then she reaches up and carefully pulls her helmet off, black hair cascading down to her shoulders as vibrant amber eyes settle on you and teasingly full lips quirk in amusement. "I knew you'd call me eventually."

The goddamn girl from the Heart Fukks concert. Fucking of course. "So what, all of that shit about Annie Lennox was you just slipping me a fucking magical roofie or whatever?!"

The girl adopts a look of deep hurt. "Ashley! No! I thought we really had something! You can't tell me you didn't feel a connection between us!"

"I felt you searing yourself into my brain with your **** enchantment, you fucking monster!"

The girl, who you are furious to realize you still find so goddamn hot, winks. "My name's actually Aisha? But I do answer to 'You Fucking Monster'. Either's good."

You shake your head in disgust, thrusting the cage out towards Aisha. "You've got a deal, so hurry up and get the fuck out of here. I want to see the back of your head again, so I can relive when Jenny's text broke your spell and I sent your ass packing."

Aisha smirks, but her response is cut off when Bat-Gal starts to squeak inside her cage. That almost sounds like...laughter? The other witch seems to think so too, because her tone has turned flat as she addresses her captive compatriot. "You fucking know that the Power of Friendship is like the only thing that can break my webs, Nell. Don't you start with me." She lets out a huff as the transformed girl continues to squeak in laughter. "Fuck you, Nell. For real. Fuck you to ****."

You shake the cage impatiently. "That works for me. Just do it somewhere else."

The other girl grins at that, regaining some composure as she reaches out for the birdcage. Her hand wraps beside yours around the handle, and then you stiffen as she is suddenly whispering into your ear. "I met your friend today, Ashley. At your school infirmary? So that's what you're choosing over me, hm? I get it. Oh trust me, I get it. I will get it." She pulls back, but not before her clever little tongue has flicked the tip of your nose. "I always get it."

Then she slings the birdcage carelessly over her shoulder, turning to walk back towards her motorcycle. She snaps her fingers and the bike contorts, folding in on itself until she's left side saddle on a real-deal fucking witch's broom. She lifts a hand in farewell, and then she's lifted off to soar away into the night. But you can't even enjoy it. You're too busy fighting off the shivers as your treacherous body luxuriates in her scent, and her touch, and that little flick on your nose.

Fuck. You're sure that Isabelle is better equipped to resist temptation than you are. At least you hope she is. She is, isn't she?

Fuck.