The Best Medicine Ch. 02

"It's worse than I thought," the elf statesman said. "How could he so completely deny his own niece her heritage and defy her parents' desires?"

"Do you think he's involved in trying to kill her?"

"If it was he, then he would have had ample opportunity to do so by now and make it look like an accident. No, however far he has fallen, I cannot accept that it has come to that. But there are many in the ranks of elvish nobility that would like to see Vanesse kept off the throne." The Shepherd started to pace. "We need to get help to Trina somehow. I won't let her die because of this."

"We're not getting anyone out there. There's a storm moving in, and it's so bad that even magical transport won't get through. The only one out there with any healing talent is your granddaughter, and she has no clue how to use it." The Alpha stroked his beard. "But we both know someone who might be able to walk her through it."

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Back at the lodge . . .

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Vanesse was sitting on a beaten-up old bench, sipping some hot chocolate that the boys had brought back to their temporary hideaway, and she was trying hard to process everything. Farmer had come and got her after letting her spend time with Trina, then had sat her down and told her what Trina had said. Then a certain degree of shock had set in.

"It's . . . I . . . I don't believe it," she said, staring into space. Her world had been rocked so much in the last 48 hours, but to find out that her own uncle had intentionally withheld information just to make her weaker was almost too much to wrap her head around. "Why would he do this?"

"Sounds like he wanted to turn you into his kind of noble."

"There really isn't a conspiracy against the elves, is there?"

"Again, I'm not the biggest follower of magical politics, but I've never heard of anything."

Trina's eyes began to water. "I never challenged him," she said, thinking about how many times the King had come and told her that she needed to stay put or just needed to do what he said. "After Mom and Dad died . . . I just let him take over. I was so scared," she whispered. "And Trina . . . I think she wanted me to rebel. She never made it a secret that she didn't like my uncle, but I couldn't get her to explain why."

"Now you know. And no one can rebel for you," Farmer told her. "You want to be a leader for your people? You have to stand on your own." As soon as she said it, she kind of regretted it, since those words reminded Vanesse that she had not exactly been the paradigm of toughness over the last fifteen years.

"How can I look after my people if I can't even keep my best friend alive?"

"Your best friend is also your battle-dancer . . . your bodyguard. She did what she was supposed to do, which was put herself in harm's way for you. You might want to get used to the idea that your best friend may die. I hope it isn't soon, certainly not now, but that's the life she chose."

Vanesse sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. "You know she was there the day I was born? She had just turned twenty, the age of adulthood for elves. And one of the first things she did was give her life to me. Not the Crown, not to the King and Queen, but to me. How fair is that? She hadn't had much life on her own, why should she dedicate the rest of it to anyone else?"

"She sounds like she's been close to your family. She didn't flip out on me until she thought I'd insulted you AND your mother. Which, by the way, I wasn't trying to do."

"Yeah, Mom practically raised her. We always said she was the practice daughter."

Farmer laughed. "How'd that happen?"

Vanesse sobered even more. "The sorcerer that kill my parents had once belonged to a cabal. From what I heard, their crimes included a lot of things, including selling children of magical races into sex slavery. And they had gotten a hold of Trina when she was ten."

Jack, who was standing nearby, stiffened up. "Good God! They --"

"They never got to her," Vanesse said quickly. "My mother was actually still an enforcer back then, and she had been hunting this sex trade ring for a while. There was a huge bidding war for a virgin elf girl, and she kept sending in shadow bids to keep it going while she traced the money. Eventually she and the other enforcers busted up the ring and rescued Trina before anyone could . . . you know."

Both werehyenas visibly relaxed. "Why wasn't she returned to her parents?" Farmer asked.

Vanesse suddenly became flushed with anger. "Her parents had sold her off to pay a debt."

Jack turned and walked out, leaving Farmer to explain. "Jack was an abused kid. I think that's why he went the huge muscles route. He takes people hurting kids personally, so he's probably going to go work out his frustration on a tree or something."

Vanesse nodded, then actually smiled. "He kind likes Trina anyway. I get that," she added wistfully, then blushed again. "Mom said that Trina was locked up with a couple of other kids. When one enforcer opened the cage, Trina thought that he was one of her captors and tried to gig him in the neck with a sharpened chicken bone. She wouldn't let anyone near the other two kids until they'd convinced her that they were the good guys."

Farmer started to laugh. "Now that sounds like the firecracker that kicked half my pack's asses."

"Mom thought she was the bravest girl she'd ever seen. She also saw the potential in her for becoming a battle-dancer. Normally, those of 'lower birth' can't even be admitted to the academy, but Mom made it happen. Then when I came along, both my folks knew that she was the one they wanted to guard me. I don't know what I would have done without her after my parents died."

"Maybe you can do something for her now," Farmer said, just as her phone began to ring. She looked at the number, apparently perplexed. She lifted the phone to her ear. "Hello? Yes, this is she. Who the hell . . . Oh. Really? Who'd you hear that from?" Farmer paused. "Yeah," she said, glancing at Vanesse. "That is indeed the situation. Uhm, sure. Hold on." She looked at Vanesse. "It's for you. And for official reasons, don't mention your name." She held out the phone.

Vanesse just stared. First, she's kidnapped from the middle of nowhere by a woman who did not know who she was. Now she was getting a phone call via satellite phone by someone her kidnapper was not expecting who didn't want to know her name. She took the phone tentatively.

"Hello?"

"Hello. I . . . well, I'm not sure how to do this," came a very smooth, feminine voice. "I was contacted by a . . . well, an acquaintance of my boss. I was told that you were a necromancer who had not received her full training. Is that correct?"

"I guess. I just found out that there's a lot I don't know. Uhm, who are you?"

"Oh sorry. Forgot to mention that. My name is Lillian O'Neil, and I'm the necromancer for Lord Stapleton of Atlanta. I'm assuming that this is a sensitive situation, because I was specifically told not to ask you your name. I was just asked to answer any questions you might have about the healing aspects of necromancy. You have a wounded comrade?"

"Yes," Vanesse replied, relieved despite not knowing how her situation had been brought to the attention of the House of Stapleton. "She's an elf, and she was shot with iron bullets. There is a medic here who took care of the bleeding and the wounds, but the poisoning --" Vanesse just stopped, hoping that this woman could help.

"I'll talk you through what I can. First, what do you know about building a personal energy store?"

It turned out, much to Vanesse's chagrin, that she did not know anything about it. Thankfully, Lillian was as patient as could be, discussing the notion of energy as a kind of adrenalin that could be built and unleashed. There were a number of ways to build it, including vigorous exercise, which Lillian recommended doing regardless, and also included mental exercises and meditation. But the more experienced necromancer pointed out, again to Vanesse's chagrin, that sexual activity was the best way for a necromancer to build up his or her stores.

Sex was the act of life and, even when preformed recreationally, it gave a necromancer the power to stave off and control death. It had to be done with some passion. Masturbation could actually give a bit of a boost but, as Lillian pointed out, you really needed at least two to tango. Vanesse did not push on the "at least" part of that. Lillian went on to explain the nature of iron poisoning.

"Talk to your doctor about the nature of poisons. Then approach it like you would a Major Work, such as curing a major disease or raising the dead. Infuse them with your energy, push it through the system, then pull it out slowly with the toxin and then ground it."

"Thank you so much," Vanesse whispered, her brain so full it was almost oppressed. She had just learned more about her abilities in the last hour than she had in the last fifteen years.

"You're welcome. If you are able and need to, feel free to call me anytime. I hope things work out with your colleague. And remember the first rule of magic still applies."

This one, Vanesse knew the answer to. "Direct the magic, don't let it direct you." She thanked Lillian again, then hung up. Facing Farmer, she asked, "Okay, how the heck did she know about what was going on?"

Farmer looked the girl over, studying her. Finally, she apparently decided that she liked what she saw. "The guy we're working for probably got a hold of her boss and requested it."

"Who is your boss? He's got to have a hell of a lot of pull to get Lord Stapleton to lend you his necromancer's expertise, no questions asked."

"He's the Alpha."

"I thought you were the alpha?"

"No, not the pack 'alpha' in the generic sense. He's THE Alpha. From the Council."

"What?! Why would the Alpha want . . . to . . . that son of a bitch!" Vanesse had run the gambit of emotions that day, so rage seemed to be a fitting addition.

"The Alpha is a son of a bitch? Actually, he IS a werewolf, so if his mother --"

"Not him. There's no reason the Alpha would want to see me, but he's friends with the Shepherd --"

"Your grandfather," Farmer said with a nod. "Trina told me about your relationship."

"What relationship? He wasn't around much when I was a kid, then I don't see him at all for five years after my parents died, after which he and the Council did nothing!"

"I'm sure they --"

"So fifteen years later, he decides that he gives a crud about my life?!"

"You're getting really excited. I think you should --"

Vanesse was so angry that she was vibrating. "Him and his precious Council!"

"Okay, it looks like you're going to pop a vein."

"Now he decides that he wants to --"

"You're really hot when you're angry."

"-- get involved and get us kidnapped and --"

Farmer finally got Vanesse to shut up by picking her up, pressing her against the wall, and then kissing her for all she was worth.

The elvish Princess was completely unprepared for this invasion of her personal space. She was being held off the ground by powerful arms, and Farmer's firm body was pressed against Vanesse's softer one. She was really angry, then she was really confused, and finally, she was desperate in her need. She had been lied to, talked down to, and abandoned. This she-male was the first person she had met in fifteen years who had been completely honest with her. And part of that had been an honest, forthright lust.

Vanesse didn't even know that a human, or lycanthrope, tongue could do those things. It teased her, invaded her, then coaxed her out. She barely noticed when the strong werehyena matriarch grabbed her by the hair on the back of her head, pulling tightly and positioning Vanesse's head exactly where she wanted it to be. And Farmer's other hand had crept down and cupped Vanesse's ass, holding it with a grip of steel.

Farmer could smell a kind of excitement that she knew well, and this elvish lady was rich with it. She could almost taste it . . . she wanted to taste it. She pulled away from that luscious mouth.

"Do you have any idea how badly I want to fuck you right now?" the matriarch whispered.

Vanesse could feel the fully formed bulge in the front of Farmer's jeans. "I've got an idea."

"Well, I'm not going to, at least not until you ask me to."

Vanesse felt a sting at that. Was this just a power play? She opened her mouth to curse the woman who had gotten her so worked up just to toy with her, and wound up getting kissed again.

"Because I've never taken advantage of a man or woman in my life when it comes to sex. I won't start with you," Farmer said after letting the buxom blonde elf up to breathe. "It seems to me that you really need to let loose, and women that look --" she started to say, then ran a hand up Vanesse's body and gripped one full breast, "-- and feel this good don't come along too often. So what do you say?"

For fifteen years, Vanesse had tried to suppress these urges. She had only had sex once, and her parents had been hesitant to talk about it. Trina had been encouraging, but then had never spoken of it again after Vanesse's parents died. Had her uncle forced the battle-dancer to give her Word on that? The same man who had made her feel bad about everything that had once made her feel good?

"I want it," Vanesse whispered, her voice filled with desire but tinged with fear and anger. "I need it."

Farmer pulled the shorter woman into a side room that was being used to store supplies. There was a small fire going, meaning that this would not be uncomfortable for the elf. She proceeded to run her hands up under Vanesse's shirt, fondling those magnificent breasts through the soft bra.

Vanesse didn't know which way was up. She wanted this, but did not know what she was supposed to be doing. Farmer gave her a tip by taking one of her hands and stuffing it down the front of the werehyena's pants, feeling the nine-inch cock contained by that rough fabric. Vanesse had never heard of a transexual, or t-girl as Trina had called them, before coming on this trip, but she found the notion fascinating. Farmer was a very beautiful woman, but she was still very masculine . . . aggressive. She was the best of both worlds.

The elf's gentle hand on her cock made Farmer want to bark at the moon. This woman was as close to virginal as you could get without actually being a virgin, and her soft but inquisitive touch was maddening. Farmer lifted her lover-to-be's shirt over her head, revealing large breasts and beautiful pale skin. She felt Vanesse withdraw her hand, only to put it to good use in unbuttoning and unzipping those jeans, allowing Farmer's shaft to feel free air. She managed to undo Vanesse's bra with one hand, then looked down with pure adoration.

"Sweetcheeks, we need to get you something that shows those puppies off," Farmed stated, then lowered her mouth and sucked on one pink nipple. She pushed one hand down into Vanesse's sweatpants and underneath the woman's underwear, curving a finger into that ripe sex that she could barely wait to ravage. She wanted the woman wet, and had a wide range of techniques that would make it happen.

For some reason, getting called "sweetcheeks" again seemed a lot less annoying this time than it had before, but of course anything sounded good when she was getting touched like that. Her nipple was standing at attention, enveloped in wet heat while her folds were being parted by the nimble fingers of a predator. For a woman who had barely masturbated out of a misplaced sense of self-loathing for the last fifteen years, this was like giving water to a woman who had been in the desert for too long.

Farmer turned Vanesse around and stood behind her, Farmer's cock nestled in the valley formed by the round mounds of the elf's ass. The werehyena wrapped up her prey with those powerful arms, one slinking south to penetrate that sweet pussy some more while her other hand gripped one large breast, tweaking the nipple with greedy fingers.

"This is how I want to take you," Farmer whispered heatedly into the elf's ear. "I'm going to take this big cock," she continued pressing the member in question tighter against Vanesse's ass, "and make you forget anyone who ever said anything that made you feel that you shouldn't enjoy yourself."

And that, Vanesse realized, was what she wanted. She also wanted Farmer to keep doing that thing with her finger, which seemed to have found a spot on Vanesse's vaginal wall that was making sparks appear before her eyes. Then a second and even third finger slid up between her folds, filling her up and driving her mad. Vanesse turned off her brain and let the feelings overwhelm her.

Letting down her defenses brought on another sensation, one every bit as wondrous as those that Farmer was eliciting. It was like a drop of liquid hitting the bottom of an empty glass, sending a hollow sound reverberating through her soul. With every plunge of Farmer's fingers and every ragged breath that Vanesse took, the feeling of those drips increased.

But when Farmer's thumb rubbed directly up against her clit, Vanesse felt way more than a drip. She gasped, her eyes widened in surprise, and her body clenched. The dripping that she had felt in the deepest parts of her psyche slowly turned into a torrent, and it was matched by a wetness that exploded out of her core onto Farmer's hand.

"I found myself a squirter," the werehyena said, bringing her wet fingers to her lips and tasting them. "Elf cum tastes pretty good. Here, try it," she said, sliding those same fingers into Vanesse's mouth.

The thought of tasting anyone's cum much less her own had never occurred to the elf princess, but she sucked willingly on Farmer's fingers. She was a mix of contradictions, feeling drained in the body but full in spirit. She could barely keep her feet, which worked fine for Farmer. She wanted Vanesse down on her hands and knees anyway. With just the slightest bit of pressure to the back of the woman's knees, that was the position she put the elvish princess into.

"Hold on to your hats folks," Farmer growled, "because this is gonna be a bumpy ride." She grabbed the back of Vanesse's hair again and then pushed her way into that incredibly tight and incredibly wet pussy. "Oh sweet Jesus, that's the good stuff," she muttered as her dark staff was enveloped and devoured by that perfect sex.

"Big!" was the first word out of Vanesse's mouth, followed by, "Too big!"

"Just give it a minute," Farmer replied, pushing all the way in and then just letting the woman's natural tightness do its thing. It wasn't long before Vanesse began instinctively pushing back against her, indicating a willingness and desire to continue. "Not all your future lovers are going to be quite so big, so don't go worrying that I'll ruin you," Farmer chuckled.

Vanesse was not thinking very much at all. Farmer was beginning to get a rhythm going, and that rhythm was in the vein of a heavy metal drummer on too many Red Bulls. She found herself grunting and groaning as she was filled in more ways than she had known possible. Her first time had been nothing like this. It was not that the boy she had been with had been a bad person; they had remained friends afterward. It was just that neither of them were experienced.

Experience was not a problem for Farmer, nor was she lacking in enthusiasm. She kept a firm grip on Vanesse's hair, using it as leverage as she pounded the Princess like nature intended. Okay, maybe nature had never quite imagined an elf being taken at all by a t-girl werehyena, but that just showed the beauty of the position. It worked for all occasions.

"That's it," Farmer cooed, or as close as a dangerous predator could come to cooing. "Show me what an elvish Princess can do."