A Coven of Vampires by Brian Lumley

pig, Thull here had her twice! He was both first and last with her; and does he look any the worse for wear?”
    “We’re not pleased!” Fregg came to his feet, huge and round as a boulder. “Put down our trusted sorcerer at once!” Hylar Arf spat in the dust but did as Fregg commanded, setting Arenith Han upon his feet to stagger to and fro, clutching at his throat.
    “Continue,” Fregg nodded his approval.
    The wizard got well away from the two accused and found the fluted stone stump of an old column to sit on. Still massaging his throat, he once more took up the thread—or attempted to:
    “About…lamias,” he choked. And: “Wine, wine!” A court attendant took him a skin, from which he drank deeply. And in a little while, but hurriedly now and eager to be done with it:
    “About lamias. They are desert demons, female, daughters of the pit. Spawned of unnatural union be twixt, ahem ,say a sorcerer and a succubus—or perhaps a witch and incubus—the lamia is half-caste. Well, I myself am a ‘breed’ and see little harm in that; but in the case of a lamia things are very much different. The woman in her lusts after men for satisfaction, the demon part for other reasons. Men who have bedded lamias and survived are singularly rare—but not fabulous, not unheard of! Mylakhrion himself is said to have had several.”
    Fregg was fascinated. Having seated himself again following Hylar Arf’s outburst, he now leaned forward. “All very interesting,” he said. “We would know more. We would know, for example, just exactly how these two escaped with their lives from lamia’s clutches. For whereas the near-immortal Mylakhrion was—some might say ‘is’—a legended magician, these men are merely—” (he sniffed) “— men. And pretty scabby specimens of men at that!”
    “Majesty,” said Arenith Han, “I am in complete agreement with your assessment of this pair. Aye, and Gumbat Chud was cut, I fear, of much the same cloth. But first let me say a little more on the nature of lamias, when all should become quite clear.”
    “Say on,” Fregg nodded.
    “Very well.” Han stood up from column seat, commenced to pace, kept well away from the hulking barbarian and his thin, grim-faced colleague. “Even lamias, monstrous crea tures that they are, have their weaknesses; one of which, as stated, is that they lust after men. Another is this: that once in a five-year their powers wane, when they must needs take them off to a secret place deep in the desert, genius loci of lamias, and there perform rites of renewal. During such periods, being un natural creatures, all things of nature are a bane, a veritable poison to them. At the very best of times they cannot abide the sun’s clean light—in which abhorrence they are akin to ghouls and vampires—but at the height of the five-year cycle the sun is not merely loathed but lethal in the extreme! Hence they must needs travel by night. And because the moon is also a thing of nature, Old Gleeth in his full is likewise a torment to them, whose cold silvery light will scorch and blister them even as the sun burns men!”
    “Ah!” Fregg came once more erect in his seat. He leaned forward, great knuckles supporting him where he planted them firmly on the table before him. “The houdah on the yak!” And he nodded, “Yes, yes—I see.”
    “Certainly,” Arenith Han smiled. “It is a shade against the moon—which was full last night, as you know well enow.” 
    Fregg sat down with a thump, banged upon the table with heavy hand, said: “Good, Han, good! And what else do you divine?”
    “Two more things, Majesty,” answered the mage, his voice low now. “First, observe the contents of her saddle bags: largely, soil! And does not the lamia, like the vampire, carry her native earth with her for bed? Aye, for she likes to lie down in the same charnel earth which her own vileness has cursed….”
    “And finally?” Fregg grunted.
    “Finally—observe the