"NEXT!"

Shandry peeled her ear from the door's surface when she heard the muffled shout and straightened, feeling her spine crack and auburn hair tumble down its length. She looked at the creepy bald guy in the velvet robes, and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Shandry wiggled her hips slightly, causing her feather-light silk skirt to shimmer and her breasts to bob in their chiffon. Preacher didn't respond - not even the merest flicker crossed his eyes - and simply stared at her face, his expression stoic. She sighed both inward and out, suppressing a shiver. Only a truly frightening man had her in his power and gave her to another.

Affecting her best bored expression, she pushed open the door to Skull's bedchamber and closed it behind her. A thick coating of furs covered the inside, overlapping onto the wall - that explained the ridiculous listening ritual she'd been forced to endure. Initially, Shandry was pleasantly surprised with the room. She glanced around at the ornate carved bedposts, gorgeous red silk sheets, and plush matching pillows. Taking in visual delights, she always thought, was an excellent warm up, and sometimes a necessary distraction. The carpet when she reached it was fluffy and insulating, caressing her feet like a lover's hands. On a bedside table was a collection of popular aphrodisiacs, arranged in 'erotic' configurations. Tacky, she thought.

"Nice," she said.

The cave, whilst cloaked in shadow, was still very much a room hewn from rock by whatever natural phenomenon invaded in ages past. Carefully positioned lanterns hid the bare rock in darkness and drew the eye to the man poised on his bed, waiting.

Skull was slouching amidst pillows and sheets like a dragon on its treasure haul, his shorn pate and piercing gaze immediately arresting her vision. Whatever else might be true about him, he certainly had poise, and a body to set a girl's pulse racing. Muscle twined like rope up his arms and clutched his abdomen in corded bands. His chest tapered from broad shoulders to a dense waist and a powerful thigh clenched where he kept one leg cocked. He looked like a giant wild cat - simultaneously attractive and dangerous.

He was chewing what looked like sugar biscuits and wincing slightly as he did so. Perhaps he just needed the energy. Then he raised his arms in greeting, indicating the expensive surroundings and intricately crafted four poster bed.

"Welcome to my lair."

Shandry doubled over and feigned a coughing fit to cover her giggles. When she straightened, he was sporting that terrible grin he always put on when he was about to execute someone. Hoping she hadn't signed her own death warrant, she dropped the bored act and unleashed her best demure smile.

"Do you have any 'special' requirements, Lord Skull?" she continued her approach, letting the words slide from her tongue into the warm air of the chamber. "I'm a real redhead, you know." With the merest slip of her fingers, the skirt wafted down her thighs, floating to the floor as she moved. She rolled her hips outrageously with each step, knowing he wouldn't notice the exaggeration.

"No, no," he stammered. "You're quite special enough on your own. And your name is..?"

"Camilla."

Skull frowned ever so slightly. Perhaps he didn't like that name, or suspected she was mocking him. Depths take me, I didn't expect him to be so shrewd. I may have to be genuine with this guy. Dropping any hint of pretence, she perched sideways on the foot of the bed and let that auburn hair tumble as she turned to face him and pouted her lips. At least she didn't have to fake interest with Skull.

"Well Camilla, shall we begin? The door is soundproofed, so you can make all the noise you like."

"Why not?" she giggled, curling her tongue from between perfect sets of teeth. She lifted her hair to present her back. "Would you like to finish undressing me?"

Skull grimaced. "Undress yourself, you lazy mare!"

Shandry tutted loudly, unable to stop herself, and felt the default look of extreme boredom fall across her face. She let the hair fall again and hooked one foot onto the opposite knee so she could pull at the sandal straps.

"You're not very polite for a concubine, are you?" said Skull, mirth vibrant in his voice, and she couldn't help cracking a genuine smile.

She turned to match the Bone Lord's gaze. "You'll have to teach me some manners, my lord."

In a blur, he was there, powerful arms enclosing her and lips pressed to hers. She let out a soft moan with no undertone of falsehood and clutched her legs round his waist. He fell back on the bed and held her up above him, those arms like pillars of stone supporting her, effortless and immovable.

"I like a girl with some feist in her," he said, gaze alight with fervour. "Let's see about those clothes, eh Camilla?"

"The name's Shandry," she breathed, and then the world became a maelstrom of motion and sighs.

*

Skull looked at the slumbering woman sprawled across his chest and wondered idly how to score her. The sea of rusty hair was a definite bonus, as was her wondrously soft skin and shapely figure. Facially, she'd make a Moons' Angel look plain, and that fiery personality stoked flames in his stomach.

Still, something wasn't right. Somewhere in the middle of her astonishing display of sexual prowess, unease set up home in Skull's thoughts. Perhaps she was too good. No man liked to think about his woman getting that much practice in the bedroom. He smiled idly, recognising the absurdity of male desires - wanting the skills of a whore in a pearly white virgin. Perhaps he thought his own powers should awaken her inner passion, mining a vein of untapped sexual energy with his pickaxe ...

He laughed before he could stop himself, causing Shandry to stir. Still only half awake, she moaned with perfectly pitched 'shy desire' and 'accidentally' moved her hand to rest on his stirring groin. Just liked that, he realised what was bothering him.

"What's your name, concubine?" he asked.

She mumbled her response through a lazy smile. "Betty."

Anger tightened his gut - this wasn't fun anymore. "Not Camilla, or Shandry?"

"Whichever you like best, lover mine."

"No! Tell me your real name."

She adopted that imperious look again, giving up the sleepy act and rolling onto one elbow facing him. "I am what I am to you, Bone Lord. Concubine, Bucket, Toilet - whatever."

"Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?"

She shrugged, and even the resulting jounce of her breasts didn't distract him. "It is what it is."

He felt his lips pursing in anger. "Do you realise who you're talking to, girl? I have people killed for looking at me funny. What makes you think I'll tolerate flippancy?"

"You're just another randy man," she said, tutting, "and randy men are all the same."

Skull was about to lose his temper when a soft, tentative knock sounded at the door.

"Yes, come in!" he shouted, pushing the woman aside and sliding to the floor.

No response.

"I said, COME IN!"

Still no response.

The soundproofing! Skull sprang across the room, his stomach twisting in a panic like fury. He grabbed the door handle and yanked the portal open, sending the latch mechanism flying sideways in three separate pieces. To his red drenched mind, it seemed there was a huge candle wavering beyond the door, a flesh coloured flame on top.

"PREACHER!"

"Yes, Lord?"

"Why, in all the deepest of the Depths," he began tearing the furs madly from the inside of the door, "did I ever get this CRAP installed?"

"It must have been my idea, sir."

"I thought so. PREACHER!"

"Yes, Lord?"

"What do you want?"

"Ah yes." Familiar territory. "Your daily prophecy, Lord."

"What, again?" Skull felt the knot dissipating in his abdomen.

"Yes, Lord. It is, after all, another day." They met gazes briefly and Preacher visibly suppressed a smile before hurrying on. "You bequeathed me appraise you of any further developments in the matter of the Lion, and I came to tell you there has been a progression."

"Go on, get on with it."

Preacher paused - intentionally, if Skull was any judge. "The omens now indicate the Lion is fast approaching his realisation. Something has occurred to usher the process forward."

"Do you know who it is yet?"

"Unfortunately no, Lord, but I have narrowed down my search by process of sensible elimination to the Two Moon town of Reefen Harn. What we need do now is send somebody there to inquire about any major recent events, and trace the line from there."

"What sort of recent event?" asked Skull, his interest piqued.

"Oh murder, rape, you know." Preacher shrugged. "Anything serious enough to lead to Duelism. The town is small enough that such incidents will not be commonplace, so the search will not be a difficult one."

"Anything else?" Skull hoped there was something further to distract from his foul mood; something fresh to think about, a subject that did not lead inexorably to annoyance. Preacher was fidgeting, his eyes jerking wildly, looking everywhere except at the Bone Lord. What he was doing, Skull realised, was deciding whether or not to confide some acquired information. Preacher glanced up and noticed his Lord studying him. He straightened perceptibly, and his hands faded from sight into his shapeless burgundy robe.

"Yes, Lord. Indications suggest another influential being is rising into his powers, though again he is ignorant of his own destiny. A young man, living in a hamlet community. He is far from here, and of no importance unless he is able to connect with the Lion. His specification is also still unclear; it seems there are several personal futures into which he could yet proceed. This inclines me to believe that he has not yet reached his full maturity. For now I am content merely to observe him. Until he makes a significant move, he is nothing but amassed potential."

Skull raised his eyebrows doubtfully, but in such matters of judgement Preacher was very rarely mistaken, and no doubt there were other factors aiding in his decision of which he had no intention of appraising his master.

The Bone Lord sighed. "Very well. Fetch Blood for me; I'll send him personally to investigate the Reefen Harn matter. He's due for a field trip anyway. See to it."

"Yes, Lord. Err, Lord?"

"What, Preacher?"

"Has your search for a new favourite amongst your concubines borne any fruit?"

Skull looked back through the ragged doorway at the pretty redhead, yawning quietly to herself and looking intensely fed up.

"No," he said. "Not as yet. But get this one's hair dyed - I want to see it long, and as black as your heart at midnight."

Preacher smiled with something like malice, and turned away to pursue his duties. Skull returned to his bed as Shandry/Camilla/Betty made her exit. Arranging the covers around him and his broad grin across his face, he cleared his throat.

"NEXT!"