My Femboy System
Chapter 23: The Devil Rides at Dusk

Chapter 23: The Devil Rides at Dusk

The night air was brisk enough to remind you that the world outside the Velvet Cathedral’s sinful embrace was still very much real. Not that I minded the cold. It sharpened the senses and gave a delicious bite to every breath. We rode hard, the narrow trail snaking through shadow-drenched forests and jagged cliffs that seemed to lean in, as if the very rocks wanted to eavesdrop on our conspiracy.

Only Miko and Aurel accompanied me on this leg of the journey. Salem had his hands full keeping the Velvet Cathedral from burning down or being raided by ecclesiastical zealots, and Lysaria was buried in council politics. Besides, this was a mission best suited to my own brand of artistry and mischief.

I glanced sideways at my two companions, silhouetted in the moonlight. Miko’s emerald eyes glinted with unreadable amusement beneath that dark veil of clipped and curled hair, and Aurel’s dark raven mane rippled with every powerful stride, body slender and sinuous, curves melting into the saddle like silk on polished obsidian. Both were lethal, exquisite—and exactly the kind of reckless allies I needed tonight.

"You do know," I drawled, voice dripping with mock solemnity, "that riding through narrow mountain passes on horseback in the dead of night is the romantic equivalent of saying, ’Let’s make a big, blazing target for every bandit and assassin between here and the train.’"

Miko gave me a lazy smirk, shadowy form flickering faintly with an otherworldly shimmer. "Since when has that ever stopped us?"

Aurel merely grunted, the stoic warrior’s version of a grin. "Better to be a blazing target than a sitting duck."

I tapped the side of my boot against my horse’s flank. "Touché. But tonight we’re not just riding. We’re storming a train. And the target? Our pale-eyed ghost of doom. Whoever they may be."

Miko’s fingers brushed against the hilt of a hidden dagger. "So what’s the plan, oh divine harlequin?"

Ah, the plan. The pièce de résistance.

I let my lips curl with the kind of smile that could start wars or weddings, depending on the mood.

"Aurel," I said, turning my head slowly toward the raven-haired killer, "your assets are going to be our secret weapon tonight."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You’re going to seduce the train’s conductor. Naked."

The words hung between us like an incense haze—part shocking, part thrilling.

Aurel’s dark eyes widened, a blush blossoming on his cheeks like a fragile, forbidden flower. "Naked? Seriously?"

"Completely naked," I confirmed. "The conductor won’t suspect a thing, especially with you distracting him. Trust me, no one resists a dark stranger offering the kind of heat you radiate. You’ll have access, movement, and maybe even a little...leverage."

Miko laughed, the sound low and teasing. "I love it when you get theatrical."

"And it gets better," I added, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Once aboard, I intend to turn the train into a moving spectacle. Picture this—dancing, drinks flowing like sacramental wine, performers weaving through the cars. A festival of decadence and distraction."

Miko raised a brow. "To flush out the assassin?"

"Exactly," I said, flicking a glance toward the smoldering horizon. "Let’s make the assassin so exposed that hiding becomes impossible."

Aurel shook his head in amused disbelief. "Only you could think of a murder hunt as a cabaret."

"Because nothing says ’find the killer’ like a raucous party," I purred.

The horses picked up their pace, hooves clattering against rocky soil. The pass grew narrower, shadows deepening, and the faint rhythmic rumble of the train on distant rails began to tease my ears.

Moments later, we waited hidden behind the rocky outcrops of the Blackrush Stretch until the train neared. When it slowed on the curve and the headlight swung across the sharp bend, Aurel stepped onto the tracks. Bare feet, skin catching the beam like dew.

The conductor must have had his thoughts set to the journey ahead—until he spotted Aurel. The train screeched to a halt, steel echoing off the canyon walls.

I watched as the conductor climbed down, lantern in hand, expression of suspicion mixed with awe.

Aurel leaned forward, lips parted in a mischievous smile, both chest and hip curves arresting in the ghostly glow.

"Good evening," he purred, voice smooth as heated glass. "What a shame to stop such a wonderful machine...Say, would you rather enjoy something more.....thrilling?"

The conductor swallowed a long deep swallow. His breath hitched. Lantern swung low.

"I—this is procedure," he stammered.

Aurel stepped closer, hips swaying, lips glowing. He pressed a slender hand to the conductor’s cheek. Pale curves and whispered warmth. The conductor’s hand drifted to Aurel’s waist.

"Tell me," Aurel whispered, gaze locked, "would you prefer I come aboard... or stay here until you can’t resist?"

Silence fell over the line. A flicker of desire passed between them before the conductor’s face loosened. He nodded—uncertain, but entranced.

"Please... come aboard," he managed.

Victory.

Aurel smiled and climbed up, vanishing into the cab alongside the conductor.

As we abandoned our horses, whispers, laughter, and deep, lustful moans began to ripple through the train. I followed Miko aboard via a less orthodox route—through the underbelly of the last car, crawling in like a shadow born of darkness itself.

The car was dusty, with crates and bottles stacked in each corner. I stood, assessing the layout of the storage car for a while, before Miko motioned me over. Miko and I then stepped carefully and quietly into the first passenger compartment of the train.

The interior was a stark contrast to the velvet decadence of the Velvet Cathedral, it’s ambiance grim and utilitarian—more a cage on wheels than a vessel of leisure.

The passengers were a mixture of nervous merchants, tired laborers, and a sprinkling of richly dressed nobles, all wrapped in layers of wary silence.

I could almost taste the tension, bitter and metallic on my tongue.

So I did what any self-respecting High Priest of the Velvet Court would do—I declared a party.

I threw open a hidden satchel and produced bottles of spiced wine, rare liquors swiped from Ventri’s most decadent vaults many years ago, and with a whispered incantation, candles ignited along the length of the cars, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow.

I strode down the aisles, my voice rising above murmurs, smooth as silk wrapped in a whip.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I called out, "tonight, we dance not for duty, but for pleasure. Tonight, we toast to life, to secrets, and to the unpredictable beauty of the unknown."

A few looked shocked. Most looked exhausted.

But then came the music. Miko, ever the master of shadows, produced a small enchanted device that summoned lilting strings and drums, light enough to make your bones want to sway.

Shadow dancers of Miko’s own design emerged from hidden compartments—silent performers cloaked in smoke and glitter—twisting and swirling through the aisles, igniting smiles and soft gasps.

The atmosphere shifted, melting from grim urgency into a decadent theater where every face was a mask and every whisper a secret.

We flowed through each of the train’s cars. Glasses clinked, bodies moved, and the tension began to unravel like ribbons pulled from a gift box.

As the revelry grew, I kept my eyes sharp—watching, listening, sensing the ripple of danger beneath the surface.

Then came the scream.

Piercing. Raw. From what seemed to be the last freight car.

The music stuttered. The laughter froze. A hush fell, as heavy and sudden as a stone dropped into a still pool.

I was at the freight car’s door in a heartbeat, Miko and Aurel flanking me like dark angels.

Inside, the scene was brutal and silent.

A women lay sprawled on the wooden floor, her face frozen in horror, her throat torn open by a savage blade. The metallic gleam of a silver coin rested on her chest engraved with the very same hexed spiral we’d been warned about.

Next to the coin, a note was pinned by a dagger, its ink black and cruel:

"Leave this train before the hour turns thrice again, or another soul will join the silence."

The message was clear and chilling—our assassin was here, watching, and playing a deadly game.

My heart, usually so steady and confident, thudded with cold promise.

"Well," I said with a slow smile that didn’t reach my eyes, "looks like the party’s just begun."

This train was no longer just a vessel. It was a stage. And every passenger—whether they knew it or not—was now a player in my twisted production.

The assassin hid among them, wrapped in shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again. But I had something they didn’t—a troupe of killers and courtesans, a venomous wit, and a mind that saw all moves before they were made.

Tonight, the Velvet Court would prove that even death can be dressed in silk and laughter.

I turned to Miko and Aurel, eyes glittering with ruthless intent.

"Time to dig deeper. Light up every shadow and corner until our ghost reveals themselves."

Miko nodded, shadows creeping up his arms like smoke ready to curl and sting.

Aurel flexed his fingers, eyes burning like midnight fires.

The dance of death had begun, and I was ready to lead.

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