Chapter 11: The Mummy's Warning
The door to Katrina's room clicked shut behind her, sealing her off from the muffled laughter and chatter still filtering up from the living room below. She stood in the dark for a long moment, her back pressed against the cool wood, her eyes closed, her breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls.
Her lips still tingled. She could still taste him—whiskey and something sweeter underneath, something that lingered on her tongue like a promise.
Fuck.
She pushed off the door and crossed to her bed, her movements jerky, uncoordinated. The room was small but comfortable, decorated in soft blues and greys she'd picked out herself when she'd first moved in. A dancer's mirror leaned against one wall, and she caught a glimpse of herself as she passed—flushed cheeks, dark eyes too bright, hair already escaping the careful twist she'd spent twenty minutes on.
She looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly kissed.
Because she had been.
Katrina stopped at the foot of the bed and yanked her dress over her head in one sharp motion. The silk whispered against her skin as it fell, pooling at her feet. She kicked off her heels, not caring where they landed, and reached behind her back to unhook her bra. It joined the dress on the floor.
Her panties came last, a scrap of black lace that she peeled down her hips and let drop.
Naked. She was naked and alone and so goddamn horny she could barely think straight.
The air in the room was cool against her heated skin, raising goosebumps along her arms and thighs. She crawled onto the bed, not bothering to pull back the covers, and stretched out on her back. The sheets were soft beneath her, familiar. She'd spent thirty years in a void where nothing existed but cold and silence and the slow erosion of hope. Now she had sheets. She had pillows. She had a body that could feel.
And right now, that body wanted.
Katrina slid her hands up her stomach, cupping her own breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. They pebbled instantly, tight and aching, and she imagined it was Mark's hands on her instead of her own. His palms, broad and warm, learning the shape of her. His fingers, gentle but insistent, teasing her until she arched into his touch.
She pinched her nipples, hard enough to make herself gasp, and imagined his mouth there. His tongue. His teeth.
"You're so fucking beautiful," she imagined him saying, his voice low and rough against her skin. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."
Her right hand drifted lower, past her navel, through the neatly trimmed thatch of dark hair at the apex of her thighs. She was already wet—soaked, really—and she moaned softly as her fingers slid through her folds, slick with arousal.
She circled her clit with her middle finger, slow and deliberate, and imagined Mark's cock instead. Thick and hard and hot, pressing against her entrance. Teasing her. Making her wait.
"Tell me what you want," he'd say.
"Please," she'd beg. "Please, Mark, I need you inside me."
And he'd give her what she wanted. He'd push into her, slow at first, letting her feel every inch, watching her face as she stretched around him. She'd gasp his name, clutch at his shoulders, wrap her legs around his waist.
Katrina's finger slid inside her, and she whimpered. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. She added a second finger, curling them just so, finding that spot that made her hips jerk off the mattress.
In her mind, Mark was fucking her now. Deep, steady strokes that made her whole body shake. His hands were on her hips, pulling her into each thrust, and he was murmuring filthy things in her ear.
"That's it, sweetheart. Take it. Take all of me."
She imagined him saying her name—not the distant, professional tone he'd used at the club, but broken and desperate. Katrina. Like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
Her thumb worked her clit in tight circles while her fingers pumped in and out of her cunt, and she imagined him coming inside her, hot and thick, filling her up. She imagined his arms wrapped around her afterward, his lips on her forehead, his voice soft as he whispered promises she desperately wanted to believe.
I'll take care of you. I'll never let anything hurt you. Marry me, Katrina. Be my wife.
She came with a strangled cry, her free hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the sound. Her back arched, her thighs clamped around her wrist, and for a few blinding seconds, she felt nothing but pleasure—sharp and sweet and overwhelming.
Then it faded, and she was left lying alone in the dark, breathing hard, her fingers sticky with her own slick.
The ache was still there. That hollow, hungry feeling deep in her chest that orgasms couldn't touch. She wanted him. Wanted Mark—his weight on top of her, his heartbeat against hers, his future tangled up with her own.
She'd spent thirty years alone. She was so tired of being alone.
Katrina pulled her hand away and stared at the ceiling. The shadows from the window blinds cut across the white paint in thin, parallel lines. Somewhere down the hall, she heard Mai's laughter—bright and unself-conscious, the way she laughed at everything.
She should clean up. She should sleep. She should stop fantasizing about a man who was probably too good to be true.
Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself hope.
---
Downstairs, the living room had settled into that lazy, post-party quiet that comes after too many drinks and too much laughter. Empty glasses dotted the coffee table. Someone—probably Mai—had kicked off her shoes and left them in the middle of the floor.
Mandy sat on the arm of the couch, her phone pressed to her ear, her free hand gesturing vaguely at the air as she talked.
"No, Dad, I'm serious. He was... charming. Like, genuinely charming. Not in a creepy way." She paused, listening. "I know how that sounds. But he fixed Mrs. Delgado's screen door. He remembers everyone's names. He tipped the bartender fifty bucks and didn't make a big deal about it."
Beth was curled up on the opposite end of the couch, her own phone tucked against her shoulder. She caught Mandy's eye and mouthed same before turning her attention back to her conversation.
"Mom, no, we're not flying back tonight. It's just a gut feeling. That's all." Another pause. "Yes, I know gut feelings have saved your lives, like, fifty times. That's why I called. But I'm not going to uproot everyone because of a vibe."
Calista stood by the window, her silver hair catching the moonlight as she spoke in low, rapid tones. Her conversation was clearly different—shorter sentences, more urgent, her golden eyes fixed on the beach outside.
"I know you're local. I know. But Rick, it's late. You don't need to—" She stopped, sighed, pressed her fingers to her temple. "Fine. But text me when you're on your way."
She ended the call first, turning to face her sisters with a look that was somewhere between fond and exasperated.
"He's coming."
Mandy lowered her phone. "What? Now?"
"In twenty minutes." Calista shrugged. "He said if we're worried enough to call, he's worried enough to show up. Also, Stacy's already in bed, so he doesn't have anything else going on."
Beth finished her call and dropped her phone to her lap. "Mom's not happy we're staying. She offered to fly down tomorrow morning."
"Dad said the same thing," Mandy said. "I told him we're fine. Shiv is two houses down if we need backup."
"Did he mention Shiv specifically?" Calista asked.
"He did. Said she's 'heavy magical artillery' and not to be stubborn." Mandy made a face. "I'm not being stubborn. I'm being cautious."
"You're being paranoid," Mai said from the kitchen doorway. She'd wandered in at some point during the calls, a glass of water in one hand and a bemused expression on her face. "Mark is a nice guy. Like, actually nice. He didn't try to get Katrina alone. He didn't push for anything. He just... danced with her and kissed her goodnight."
Felicity appeared behind her, nodding in agreement. "He waited until she gave him her number before he left. That's polite."
"Polite doesn't mean safe," Jess said from the armchair. She hadn't said much since the club, but her dark eyes had been tracking the conversation like a hawk. "I've met plenty of polite men who turned out to be monsters."
"Amen," Ben agreed. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him. "Look, I'm not saying Mark is a bad guy. But if Mandy's gut is telling her something is off, I'm not going to ignore it."
Mandy shot him a grateful look. This—this was why she loved him. Not because he agreed with her, but because he trusted her.
"I'm not saying we should run him out of town," she said. "I'm just saying we should be careful. Pay attention. Don't let Katrina get too swept up without doing some digging."
"Digging?" Mai raised an eyebrow. "You want to run a background check on the guy?"
"I want to know who he is." Mandy's jaw tightened. "Really know. Not just the charming, helpful neighbor act he's been putting on."
"He came over with homemade lasagna the week he moved in," Felicity pointed out. "That's not an act. That's just... Italian."
"Or a calculated move to win your trust," Jess said.
Felicity frowned. "You're both paranoid."
"We're alive," Mandy corrected. "Which is more than I can say for some people who've trusted the wrong strangers."
The room went quiet.
The knock at the door was almost anticlimactic.
Jeeves floated toward the front hall, his small mechanical arms whirring as he adjusted his trajectory. His voice came out tinny but clear: "I shall investigate the perimeter, Mistress Mandy. Please remain calm."
"Jeeves, wait—" Mandy stood up, but the little automaton was already at the door. He had a direct feed to the security system, and a variety of defensive measures Bruce had built in. Technically, he was better equipped to handle an unexpected visitor than she was.
The door swung open.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Jeeves's voice, slightly higher than usual: "Mistress Mandy? You have a guest."
Mandy crossed to the door, her sisters following close behind. Jess and Ben flanked her, their postures shifting into something more alert. Mai and Felicity hung back, their expressions ranging from curious to confused.
Standing on the porch was a woman.
She looked to be about twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her clothes were slightly out of style—a linen shift dress, sandals that had seen better days. Her skin had the look of old parchment, dry and papery, but her eyes were bright and full of secrets.
Mandy's breath caught.
"Huy?"
The mummy smiled—a small, careful expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her English was still halting, but much improved from the last time they'd seen her.
"Hello, Mandy. Hello, Felicity. I have been... walking. For a long time. And now I am here."
She stepped forward, into the light spilling from the hallway, and her parchment skin seemed to glow faintly in the dimness. Mandy noticed that her chest didn't rise and fall. That she only breathed when she spoke.
Mandy's memories came back to her, the strange existence that was Huy: She doesn't have a heartbeat. She's been dead for thousands of years. And she's still one of the kindest people I've ever met.
But kindness didn't mean safety. Huy had power—real power—and the last time she'd seen her, it had nearly gotten them all killed.
"I'm sorry," Huy said, her dark eyes moving from face to face. "I do not mean to... interrupt. But I needed to warn you."
"Warn us?" Felicity's voice was thin. "About what?"
Huy's gaze settled on Mandy, then on Felicity. Her expression was somber, ancient, weary in a way that made her look far older than her youthful body suggested.
"Evelyn Shaw. She is... nearby. Looking for you. Seeking revenge." Huy paused, tilting her head as if listening to something only she could hear. "I do not know her plan. But I know she is here. And she has not forgotten."
The sisters exchanged tense glances, the night's earlier joy replaced by cold dread.
Mandy's hand found Ben's. Jess reached for the doorframe, steadying herself.
"Shit," Mandy whispered.
"Shit," Calista agreed.
Huy stepped across the threshold, and the door closed behind her with a soft, final click.
Huy stepped across the threshold, and the door closed behind her with a soft, final click. The living room lights seemed to dim slightly, as if the ancient priestess had brought her own shadows with her.
Mandy's hand stayed locked around Ben's. Jess had gone very still in the armchair, her Wand training kicking in—assessing exits, cataloging weapons, calculating threat levels.
"You said Evelyn Shaw is nearby," Mandy said. "How nearby? How do you know?"
Huy tilted her head, that unsettling gesture that made her seem like she was listening to something beyond human hearing. Her dark eyes reflected the room's glow, but there was something older behind them. Something that had seen empires rise and crumble.
"I felt her," Huy said. "Her anger. It is like... a fire in the dark. I cannot see it, but I feel the heat."
Felicity wrapped her arms around herself. "That's not vague at all."
"Huy." Calista stepped forward, her silver hair catching the light. "We appreciate the warning. We do. But we need more than feelings. Do you know what she wants? Where she is? Anything specific?"
Huy's parchment-dry lips pressed together. She looked at Mandy, then at Felicity, and something like regret flickered across her features.
"She wants you," Huy said simply. "Both of you. She blames you for... for what happened. When I called Anubis. When her plan failed."
"Great," Mandy muttered. "So we're on her shit list. Again."
Beth had moved to stand beside Calista, her photographer's eye cataloging every detail of Huy's appearance. The slightly outdated clothes. The way her chest didn't rise and fall. The faint shimmer of something otherworldly beneath her skin.
"We've dealt with her before," Beth said. "We can do it again."
"You did not deal with her," Huy corrected. "Anubis dealt with her. I dealt with her. You... you were lucky."
The words landed like stones in still water.
Before anyone could respond, headlights swept across the front windows. A car door slammed. Footsteps crunched on the shell path that led from the driveway.
Rick.
Mandy crossed to the door and pulled it open before he could knock. Her brother stood on the porch, still in the jeans and henley he'd been wearing at the bakery earlier, flour dusted across his forearms like ghostly freckles. His dirty blonde hair was tousled, and his blue eyes—their father's eyes—were sharp with concern.
"Hey, Bug," he said, using the nickname only family got away with.
"Hey yourself." Mandy stepped aside to let him in. "It's weird seeing you without Stacy. She finally get tired of you?"
Rick snorted. "She's asleep. Some of us have actual jobs that require early mornings." He paused in the entryway, scanning the room. "Okay, what's going on? Your text said it was urgent."
"Huy showed up," Mandy said.
Rick's eyebrows shot up. He turned, noticing the ancient priestess for the first time, and his expression shifted through surprise, recognition, and something like awe. He'd heard the stories—everyone had—but he'd never actually met her.
"Hi," he said awkwardly. "I'm Rick. Mandy's brother."
Huy studied him with those dark, knowing eyes. "Yes. The baker. Your bread is very good. I have eaten it."
"You've... eaten my bread?"
"From the shop. On Fifth Street. I like the sourdough."
Rick blinked. "Okay. That's... that's good to know." He turned back to Mandy. "So Huy's here because...?"
"Evelyn Shaw," Jess said from the armchair. "She's in the area. Looking for payback."
Rick's jaw tightened. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, his movements deliberate, controlled. When he spoke again, his voice was steady.
"Alright. What do we know? What's the plan?"
"We don't have a plan yet," Mandy admitted. "We just found out."
"Then we make one." Rick crossed his arms. "First thing—what about Mark?"
The room went quiet.
"What about him?" Felicity asked.
"He's new. He showed up right before all this started. He's got Katrina wrapped around his finger." Rick's gaze moved from face to face. "That's a lot of coincidences."
"Not everything is a conspiracy," Mai said, throwing her hands in the air. "You Williamsons are the most paranoid family I've ever met. And I've met my mother."
Beth laughed—a short, humorless sound. "That paranoia has kept us alive. Multiple times. I'm not going to apologize for it."
"And I'm not saying you should." Mai's smirk was sharp, teasing. "But you're not the only ones who've had adventures. My mum and I have been in our fair share of scrapes. We came out fine."
Felicity nodded. "Same with my parents. My mom literally wrote the textbook on paranormal threats. Well, one of them. And she's still here."
"And me," Ben added from the floor. "My parents are friends with Jan O'Connor. That alone means I've seen more weird shit than most people see in a lifetime."
"Fair point," Mandy conceded.
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Half of them—Mai, Felicity, even Ben to some extent—were ready to trust Mark. The other half—Mandy, Beth, Rick, and Jess—were wary, their instincts screaming that something was off. And hovering over all of it was the threat of Evelyn Shaw, a shadow that had haunted Mandy and Felicity for over a year.
Then the guest room door creaked open.
Katrina stumbled out, still naked, her dark hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. Her skin was flushed, her eyes glassy, and she moved like a woman sleepwalking through a dream.
"I really don't want to be alone right now," she said, her voice small. "I need... I need relief. I need to not think."
Mai burst out laughing—bright and unself-conscious, the way she laughed at everything. "Honestly? I think we all probably do." She reached down and grabbed the hem of her oversized t-shirt, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. Her breasts bounced free, full and natural, her nipples already hardening in the cool air of the living room. "Fuck it. We're all adults here. And Katrina's right. Tension like this needs to go somewhere."
It was as if a switch had been pulled.
Felicity's fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one by one with deliberate slowness. She'd always been the shy one, but somewhere along the way—after that night with Mandy and Ben and Mai and Mike and Casey—she'd discovered something about herself. Something hungry.
"I've been thinking about Bruce all night anyway," she admitted, sliding the blouse off her shoulders. Her skirt followed, pooling on the floor. She wasn't wearing a bra, just simple cotton panties that she hooked her thumbs into and pushed down her legs. "He's got this way of using his tongue that just... ruins me."
"Jesus, Flick," Ben muttered, but he was already unbuttoning his jeans.
Calista exchanged a glance with Beth, a silent conversation passing between them. Then they both started undressing—Calista's elegant fingers working the zipper of her dress, Beth yanking her tank top off with the same efficiency she used on camera lenses. They weren't going to participate in the same way, but they weren't going to be the only ones clothed, either.
Katrina stood in the center of the room, watching the others strip with a kind of desperate gratitude. Her hand drifted to her stomach, fingers splaying wide, and she let out a shaky breath.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I just... I need to feel something. Anything."
Huy remained fully dressed, her parchment skin a stark contrast to the flush of living bodies around her. She positioned herself near the window, her back to the glass, and folded her hands in front of her.
"I will watch," she said simply. "You do not need me to participate. But I will stay. The energy... it helps."
"Helps how?" Mandy asked, though she was already unzipping her own jeans. Her panties were wet—had been since the club, if she was honest. Watching Katrina with Mark, the way he'd held her, the way he'd kissed her... it had done something to her.
Huy's smile was small and knowing. "You need to calm down. The fear, the tension, the uncertainty—it makes you weak. This is a great tension breaker." She paused, her ancient eyes glittering. "Perhaps I had something to do with that."
Mandy laughed—genuinely, the first real laugh she'd managed since Huy's warning. "You're saying you puppeteered us into an orgy?"
"I am saying the energy was already there. I simply... encouraged it." Huy inclined her head. "You Williamsons are not the only ones with power."
"Fair enough." Mandy kicked off her jeans and unclasped her bra, letting it fall. Her body was nothing special—she knew that. Flat chest, a little soft around the middle, a constellation of moles across her shoulders that she'd never bothered to hide. But Ben looked at her like she was a goddess, and that was enough.
She crossed the room to where Jess was already stretched out on the sofa, having shed her charcoal grey suit with the efficiency of someone trained to get dressed—and undressed—in seconds flat. Jess's body was a study in contrasts: lean muscle and generous curves, dark hair spilling across the cushions, skin the color of warm caramel.
"Hey," Mandy said, kneeling beside the sofa.
"Hey yourself." Jess's smile was softer than her reputation suggested. She reached up, fingers brushing Mandy's cheek. "You okay?"
"I will be." Mandy leaned into the touch. "This helps."
"It does." Jess pulled her down, and their mouths met.
---
Across the room, Ben had found his way to Felicity.
She was already on her knees on the rug, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, her blue eyes wide with that particular blend of shyness and hunger that always made his cock hard. Her hand wrapped around the base of him, fingers barely meeting around his girth, and she made a small, appreciative sound.
"You're so fucking big," she murmured. "Every time I see it, I forget."
"You don't have to flatter me." Ben's voice was rough. "I know I'm—"
"Shut up." Felicity leaned forward, her tongue flicking out to trace the head of his cock. The taste of him—salt and skin and something uniquely Ben—made her moan. "I'm not flattering you. I'm stating a fact." She took him into her mouth, inch by aching inch, until the head bumped the back of her throat.
Ben groaned, his hand finding her hair. "Fuck, Flick."
She pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his shaft. "That's the idea."
She went down on him in earnest—no teasing, no hesitation. Her mouth was hot and wet and eager, her tongue working the underside of his cock while her hand stroked what she couldn't fit. She bobbed her head in a steady rhythm, her cheeks hollowing with each pull, and Ben's hips started to jerk forward involuntarily.
"God, that's—" He couldn't finish the sentence. His eyes were fixed on the sight of her—blonde hair bobbing, lips stretched wide around his girth, one hand cupping his balls with gentle pressure.
Felicity pulled off him just long enough to speak. "I want you to fuck my face. Don't be gentle."
Ben didn't need to be told twice. He gripped her hair with both hands and drove into her mouth, fast and hard, and Felicity moaned around him—a low, vibrating sound that nearly finished him right there. She took everything he gave her, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, drool dripping down her chin, looking utterly wrecked and utterly blissful.
"Close," he gasped. "Flick, I'm—"
She pulled back, her hand replacing her mouth, stroking him fast and tight. "Not yet. I want you inside me."
---
Mai had found her way to the floor, stretching out on the thick rug like a cat in a sunbeam. Her dark hair fanned around her head, and her legs were spread wide, one hand already buried between her thighs.
She liked to watch. That was her thing—she'd learned it early, during those livestreams where the chat would go wild every time she "accidentally" flashed the camera. There was power in being seen, in knowing that people wanted her. And right now, she wanted to see everything.
Her fingers pumped in and out of her wet cunt while she watched Felicity suck Ben's cock. Her thumb circled her clit while she tracked Mandy and Jess on the sofa, mouths fused, hands exploring. She came once—fast and sharp—and then kept going, because one orgasm was never enough.
"Fuck yes," she breathed. "Put on a show for me, people."
Katrina had ended up on the floor near Mai, not touching her, just... close. The warmth of another body seemed to ground her. She was touching herself too—slow, deliberate circles on her clit, eyes half-closed.
"I don't know how to do this," Katrina admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to just... be with people. It's been so long."
Mai turned her head, her dark eyes soft. "You're doing fine. Just feel what feels good. No rules here."
"I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin."
"That's the horniness. It's a bitch." Mai grinned. "Masturbate through it. Or let someone help."
Katrina's gaze drifted to where Calista and Beth were standing by the wall, still mostly clothed, watching the scene unfold. They caught her eye and smiled—not predatory, just warm. Just there.
Katrina swallowed hard and kept touching herself.
---
Jess had Mandy pinned to the sofa cushions, one hand between Mandy's legs, fingers buried deep.
"You're so wet," Jess murmured against her throat. "Is this from watching me? Or from thinking about Ben?"
"Both," Mandy gasped. "Everything. Fuck, Jess, don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it." Jess crooked her fingers, finding that spot that made Mandy's hips buck off the cushions. "You're close. I can feel it."
"Yes—yes, please—"
Jess swirled her thumb over Mandy's clit, and that was it. Mandy came with a sharp cry, her inner walls clenching around Jess's fingers, her whole body shaking through the waves of pleasure. Jess worked her through it, patient and steady, until Mandy collapsed back against the cushions, boneless.
"God," Mandy managed. "God, I needed that."
Jess pulled her fingers free and sucked them clean, holding Mandy's gaze the whole time. "I know."
Mandy reached for her, pulling Jess down into a kiss. "Your turn. I want to taste you."
"I thought you'd never ask."
---
Ben had Felicity bent over the arm of the couch, her feet on the floor, her hands gripping the cushions. He was behind her, cock in hand, teasing her entrance with the head.
"Please," she begged. "Please, Ben, just put it in me."
"You sure?"
"I swear to God, if you don't fuck me right now—"
He slammed into her.
Felicity screamed—not in pain, but in sheer overwhelming sensation. He was big, so fucking big, and she was stretched to her limit around him. Her cunt clutched at his cock like it was trying to pull him deeper, and she pushed back against him, desperate for more.
"Harder," she demanded. "Fuck me harder."
Ben obeyed. He gripped her hips and pounded into her, each thrust sending her slamming against the couch arm. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, along with her moans and his grunts and the wet, obscene sound of his cock driving in and out of her soaking pussy.
"You feel so good," he groaned. "So tight, Flick, so fucking good—"
"Don't stop," she gasped. "Don't you dare fucking stop—"
She came first, a wailing cry that dissolved into incoherent profanity. Her legs buckled, but Ben held her up, kept fucking her through the aftershocks. He lasted another dozen strokes before he buried himself deep and came with a shout, hot and thick inside her.
They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, sweaty and spent.
"Okay," Felicity finally said. "Okay, that was worth all the weirdness tonight."
Ben laughed weakly. "Glad I could help."
---
On the sofa, Mandy had Jess spread out beneath her. She'd kissed her way down Jess's body—lips, throat, collarbone, breasts, stomach—and now she was positioned between her thighs, face inches from Jess's glistening pussy.
"Tell me what you want," Mandy murmured.
"Your tongue. Now."
Mandy didn't tease. She went straight in, flattening her tongue against Jess's cunt and licking a long, slow stripe from entrance to clit. Jess's hips jerked, and her fingers tangled in Mandy's shaggy brown hair.
"There," she panted. "Right there, don't stop—"
Mandy found a rhythm, licking and sucking and fingering Jess's cunt, bringing her to the edge and then backing off. Again and again, until Jess was begging. Until Jess was swearing. Until Jess finally came with a hoarse cry, her thighs clamping around Mandy's ears, her whole body arching off the cushions.
When Mandy surfaced, her mouth was slick and her grin was wide.
"Good?" she asked.
Jess could barely speak. "Get up here."
Mandy crawled up her body, and they kissed, slow and languid, the taste of Jess's cunt still on Mandy's lips.
---
The room had settled into clusters of tangled limbs and whispered endearments.
Felicity was sprawled on the floor next to Ben, her head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his stomach. Mai had drifted closer to Katrina, not touching but present, her warmth a comfort in the chaos. Calista and Beth had found their way to the armchair, curled together like kittens, watching the others with soft eyes.
Huy remained by the window, a silent sentinel, her ancient gaze taking in everything.
Mandy propped herself up on her elbows, looking at the mummy across the room. The haze of pleasure was starting to fade, reality creeping back in.
"So," she said. "Evelyn Shaw. Where do we start?"
Huy's smile faded. "She will not wait long. You must be ready."
"We have a Green Knight," Jess said from the sofa, her voice still hoarse. "He's been watching over Mandy for months. He'll know she's here."
"Will he?" Huy tilted her head. "Shaw is clever. She knows the Knight. She knows Mandy. She will use what you care about against you."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Rick spoke from where he'd settled in the doorway, still dressed, still alert. "Then we protect what we care about. Katrina. Each other. We don't let this bitch shake us."
"Easy to say," Mandy said quietly.
"Doesn't mean it's wrong." Rick met her eyes. "We're Williamsons. We've been through worse."
"Have we?" Mandy asked.
"Probably," Beth said. "Statistically speaking."
The room was quiet for a long moment.
Then, from somewhere outside, the front gate creaked open.
Everyone froze.