Of Funerals and Families; Part Two.
In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.
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‘‘Birthed by stars, in immortal light, so why do we assume we pass into Darkness.’‘
A maniac conducted the orchestra, while every section fought for dominance without a thought to the opera unfolding under its twittering cacophony. That is how it felt as I steeled myself for the service, but my musings were a fantasy. I had a swirling company of my twenty inductees, two Amazons, plus Rachel's detail and Esmeralda coordinating all the traffic.
Pamela was absent. Buffy was the one in charge, deciding who got how close and under what level of scrutiny. The presence of law enforcement was made obvious by our vigilance, with mutual hostility being declared.
The government was catching up with how they'd been screwed over. They couldn't prove a thing yet, although they had missed an entire day trailing after me.They also had new leadership. Pamela had expelled Theodora with the simple application of Conflict of Interest. Nicole and Pratt had joined me in my suite, so I was suitably armored when the Feds made their next run at me. I had stepped up in the world, so I was rewarded with a new attack plan.
Her name was Assistant Federal District Attorney Javiera Castello, and two seconds of eye contact made precisely transparent what a hurricane she was going to bring to my life. Sex? Oh yeah, she was already figuring what penitentiary to send me to so she could make monthly visits. An impressive dicking wasn't going to save me this time.
She was professional, polite and courteous concerning my mourning without being false. Theodora's strategy assumed I was the man who graduated from Bolingbrook a few months back. My history was clear and muddy enough to be real. I was what my documentation said I was; until Havenstone.
Theodora had waved the flags and charged the barricades only to discover too late that my defenses weren't manned by a lone yahoo with a bow and arrow, but with mortars and machineguns and her troops had been scattered, her plans shredded. Javiera had my measure now. I was a Prince. Of what, she didn't know yet.
She was going to find out. Not out of some fatalistic curiosity, but because that's where the bread crumbs led. Dad was what he appeared to be, that plot of land was relatively worthless and two groups of professional killers had fought and died dragging my father either away, or to safety. I work with some scary-smart ladies.
‘‘Ms. Castello, would you care to travel with me to the service?’‘ I turned to her at the last moment. I was a clever puppy, good with women and I wasn't trying to be a politician. Javiera took my gesture for what it was; an olive branch. I was offering to be less of an obstructionist, and she was willing to forgo retribution for my earlier stunts.
Five minutes down the road in the stretch limo, I could see the question eating Javiera up inside. She was honoring my melancholy; I could almost hear Dad saying, 'Son, you have company' as a persistent reminder to his petulant teenage slacker that I was a member of the Human Equation.
‘‘What do you want to ask me?’‘ I gathered my civility to the fore. Nicole shifted so that we were making eye contact.
‘‘Is there a limit to how many questions?’‘ she started off with. I didn't say 'One and that was it'.
‘‘I've been told it will take us thirty-two minutes to the cemetery,’‘ I looked at my watch.
‘‘That gives us; twenty-six minutes,’‘ I offered.
‘‘Why all the hostility?’‘ led the charge.
‘‘A variety of people consider my life to have some value. For a few it is personal. For most, they attach a more esoteric price tag on my existence,’‘ I replied.
‘‘That is vague enough to be useless,’‘ she gently scolded me. Oh, I could see that both Javiera and Nicole were about to play Nutcracker with my heritage until it was the consistency of warm peanut butter.
‘‘I am the member of not one, but two secret societies,’‘ I kept steady eye contact with her.
Yes; there was that look I was slowly becoming accustomed to; that one that conveyed 'what you said made no sense, so why aren't you lying to me?'
‘‘Which ones?’‘ Javiera rebounded quickly.
‘‘Perhaps we should discuss this at a later time,’‘ Nicole reposed.
‘‘Nicole,’‘ I patted her knee, ‘‘how would you feel if you got Javiera murdered?’‘
‘‘That thought shouldn't even be;’‘ she stated.
‘‘Nicole, I'm worried enough about you. People know I like you, so they may not kill you for looking in the wrong trash bin,’‘ I explained. ‘‘She doesn't even have that rather tenuous screen.’‘
‘‘Was it one, or both secret societies that shot and killed your father?’‘ Javier continued.
‘‘Without a doubt it was an accident. The all-female group was simply scouting the location out as part of forming a contingency plan,’‘ I said. ‘‘The other group showed up to kidnap my father to interrogate him; I'm not going to tell you why.’‘
‘‘The first group identified themselves and the second group began shooting. In the process of grabbing my father, they shot him three times. In the process of taking him to one of their cars, the living lady engaged them in a final firefight. They abandoned my father and left.’‘
‘‘You seem to know a great deal about what happened,’‘ Javiera noted.
‘‘I've seen the footage the first group took from their helmet cams,’‘ I told her.
‘‘Is there any way I could see that?’‘ she prodded.
‘‘By no human means I can think of,’‘ I shrugged. ‘‘Feel free to ask that extremely venomous lady sitting next to you. Her name is Rachel,’‘ I made the introduction.
‘‘She remains under the impression that killing people around me will somehow save me from myself,’‘ I added. ‘‘I not only trust her, I trust her with the lives of my daughters.’‘
‘‘You don't have any children we are aware of,’‘ Javiera wondered.
‘‘Rachel knows what I mean,’‘ I gave a lopsided grin.
Rachel knew alright. I wasn't asking her to save me with that statement. I was asking her to save my future.
‘‘What is with all the women? I'm a believer in gender equality. You seem to lack any male employees, period. Is this a permutation of a harem?’‘ Javier opened another line of investigation.
Rachel and Buffy quickly snorted their amusement then returned to their not-so-subtle aggression. I was sure my chauffeur, Tiger Lily, was snickering it up too, beyond the glass. Sigh.
‘‘That was uncalled for,’‘ I frowned at the Fed. ‘‘Five Google searches and you should know all about Havenstone's hiring practices. Ask what you want to ask. Don't try to trick me. I am definitely not in the mood.’‘
‘‘Why are you in charge; a male over Havenstone employees that certainly have more skill and experience at; just about everything?’‘ Javiera came clean.
‘‘Put on your hip-waders,’‘ I groaned. ‘‘This is going to suck.’‘ I waited until I had her undivided attention.
‘‘A long time ago, I killed a group of really bad people,’‘ I grunted. I could see that she wasn't buying it despite her interrogation senses saying I was being truthful. ‘‘When I say a long time ago, I mean about 2500 years ago.’‘ Sigh. ‘‘Before you start tossing Thorazine at me, all you need to accept is that every one of those women around me believes that to be true.’‘
‘‘So this is a cult?’‘ Javiera inquired bravely.
‘‘Put it this way. I'm sure you practice a martial art of some kind. You probably have a chromatic belt that you are rather proud of. It will not help you. These women are professional killers. I'm pretty sure there are a dozen unidentified corpses that could be attributed to these two.’‘
I already knew that Buffy killed some guys. Rachel? She was a team leader, so I was willing to have faith in her ability to remorselessly end another person's life. Javiera must have volunteered for my personal fiasco.
‘‘Are you being held against your will?’‘ she looked so vigilant and intent. ‘‘I can get you out.’‘
‘‘No,’‘ a dry chuckle. ‘‘I'm; not good; getting by. There is no way in Hell I'm leaving Havenstone. I can hardly kill all the people responsible for my father's death if I did that.’‘
‘‘If you seek personal vengeance, I will be forced to bring every legal power to bear to stop you,’‘ she felt bound to threaten me.
‘‘Don't stop being you on my account, Ms. Castello,’‘ I finally managed a smile. It was sincere and Javiera knew it.
‘‘Who? Maybe I can catch them before you do?’‘ she offered me an escape clause.
‘‘You will know it when you see it,’‘ I took a deep breath.
‘‘Do not try anything at the funeral,’‘ she warned me. ‘‘Law enforcement will be all over the place.’‘ She really wanted to screw me in prison. I knew those things.
‘‘I'm not going to kill them there,’‘ I assured her. ‘‘They will be the ones running for their lives though.’‘
‘‘How is that going to work?’‘ Nicole finally broke my silence.
‘‘I have 27 ladies willing to kill on my command,’‘ I exaggerated. ‘‘When I tell those men I know they were responsible and that they should run for their lives, they are going to run for their lousy stinking lives.’‘
‘‘But you are not going to give the order to have them killed,’‘ Javiera stated. She was getting my measure now.
‘‘No, but they don't know that and being horrible human beings, they will assume that I will have them murdered over my father's grave,’‘ I turned positively wolfish.
‘‘They will run and they will keep running because of you and yours, Javiera. They won't have guns because they don't want to be arrested,’‘ I finished.
‘‘Why are they afraid to be arrested?’‘ Javiera was putting the puzzle together. That was our deal after all.
‘‘I can have repeated, heavenly sex on a train with a nun,’‘ I confessed. ‘‘I'm pretty sure I can arrange to have a scumbag killed in prison.’‘
‘‘I think we can both agree my client is under a great deal of stress at this time,’‘ Nicole intervened.
‘‘I think we can agree your client is not Al Capone, much less Osama bin Laden,’‘ Javiera allowed. ‘‘I still think he is exceedingly dangerous.’‘
‘‘Dangerous? Dangerous is dating in this town,’‘ I groaned. ‘‘Went out late last night to a dance club, met two sweet girls visiting the Windy City, stepped outside and they tried to kill me.’‘
‘‘Do these two count as 'public'?’‘ Buffy snarled. She meant Javiera and Nicole. Pratt was in another car and the only others with us were Rachel and me. This was going to hurt.
‘‘No,’‘ I sighed. Wham! The Charlie Horse from Hell!
‘‘That's why you have bodyguards, you jerk,’‘ Buffy nearly cried.
‘‘Ah; we were with him,’‘ Rachel tapped Buffy's upper arm.
‘‘Oh.’‘ Long pause. ‘‘I; I apologize,’‘ Buffy said sheepishly. ‘‘I had no idea you were getting smarter.’‘ That was probably the best apology I was going to get. It was still my fault.
‘‘You do it out of love, Buffy,’‘ I rubbed my arm. Buffy gave me a heartbreaking smile.
‘‘Was that domestic violence, or assault?’‘ Javiera snarled. ‘‘Neither one is allowable under Illinois law.’‘
‘‘It is a Human Resources Team-building tool,’‘ I lied. ‘‘In some places it is called Obedience Training, or Negative Reinforcement.’‘
‘‘I have never seen another human being take a beating like Cáel can,’‘ Rachel complimented me.
‘‘He is also incredible in the bed room,’‘ Buffy added on. Javier didn't know what to make of the menagerie of 'not-normal' women who hung around me. She locked eyes with Buffy.
‘‘I mean Really fantastic,’‘ Buffy licked her lips. Nicole nodded in agreement.
‘‘I can't use any of this,’‘ Javiera muttered after several minute of silence. ‘‘It is all a type of shared delusion; with fourteen dead bodies attached to it.’‘
‘‘Ah, the guy with both femoral arteries shot out made it? Whoa, we've got some top notch surgeons in this city,’‘ I nodded.
‘‘Yes. As opposed to those two men who had their heads shot off,’‘ Javiera added bitterly. Reminding her that poor Horace of the Burnham PD had done the deeds was pointless.
‘‘Who died?’‘ I attempted some reciprocity from Javiera. She'd read through every public aspect of my life and had talked to me for less than ten minutes. She excelled at her craft; punishing lawbreakers.
‘‘I conclude you know the name of the three dead women and the one living one,’‘ she began, ‘‘because we haven't a clue who they really are. Their cover identities aren't perfect. We simply can't get anything about them behind the fallacy of their existence.’‘ She waited.
‘‘If you can help us put the wounded woman in some sort of shared protective custody, I can probably 'suggest' that she be more cooperative,’‘ I counter-offered. Rachel nodded.
‘‘The eight other bodies at the house;’‘ Javiera shook her head. ‘‘Four were dead and by that I mean reported dead from four to nine years ago. The rest; Hell, they were all twisted fucking savages. Every one of them had Interpol warrants out for them, for questioning. No accusations seemed to stick to them: misplaced evidence, dead witnesses and falsified death certificates.’‘
‘‘Does this mean anything to you?’‘ Javiera paused to get some more information.
‘‘Yes. Reference the men running for their lives,’‘ I nodded.
‘‘Cáel?’‘ Rachel cautioned me. ‘‘This is not something you can rush into.’‘
‘‘Actually, it was you who clued me in, Rachel,’‘ I looked at her.
‘‘Given an opportunity to have only one gun of a given type, would you choose one you knew intimately, or a totally random one?’‘ was my rhetorical question. Professionals trained with a large variety of weapons, yet every Amazon I had met had a preferred weapon; one that if they could have it with them, they would.
‘‘The Zastava M2,’‘ Rachel nodded.
‘‘It is not used in too many places and only Peru in this hemisphere. Someone really loved that gun; enough to bring it from whatever killing field where he was currently employed to my home,’‘ I said. ‘‘Since the other likely culprit passed on a chance to kill me last night, I am sure enough to pick a fight.’‘
(Holy Cross)
It had to be odd in so many ways for the people who knew Dad and, to a lesser extent, me. They gathered by the graveside. It wasn't much. Dad had been cremated as had Mom. They had these small granite markers; no headstones for them. They had been so much in love. All they wanted is to be laid to rest, side by side. Mom had insisted on cremation. I thought I knew why, but it had done no good.
The true oddity was obvious. The islet of normalcy was the small funerary party with me. My Aunt; my Father's Sister; was here and somewhat in shock. She and Dad hadn't been close; so much unsaid. When my Grandparents died, Dad was only nineteen and Stella was sixteen. Stella's lifelong friend had moved to Maryland a few months previously.
Stella reached out to her friend, her friend's parents talked to Dad and Stella went to off to be a mariner. Seeing her occasionally as I was growing up was the extent of our relationship. The priest did his thing. I wondered what Christ thought of this mystic fur ball that was the amalgam of my life. My hope was that he was quietly urging me to do the right thing.
The Padre finished, the co-workers and neighbors came by to give their condolences and then ran the gauntlet. The gauntlet? Yes, the herd of Amazons, O'Shea kin and four other clumps of people who I didn't know, yet undoubtedly would soon. Selena and Miyako were present along with a third female who looked luscious in a burqa-shaped covering and a diaphanous veil. Javiera, Pratt and Nicole were somewhat out of place with their lack of arrogant lethality.
A limo driver came to take Stella away.
‘‘I have some issues to deal with, Aunt Stella,’‘ I comforted her. ‘‘Vér a vér.’‘ It had been ages since she'd heard Hungarian so she wasn't sure what I meant, but she knew it was bad. One of my O'Shea aunts was coming my way until the menace of the closing Amazons halted her.
The others had no clue what they were about to behold. I doubt outsiders had ever been privileged to witness anything like it. This was a declaration; it was my mission statement. Ishara did not hide. I took off my coat, folded it, placed it on the damp grass then knelt on it. Buffy stepped up with the bowl of incense and followed my 'coat to keep your knees clean' stunt, sitting perpendicular on my right.
Helena followed suit on my left, placing a shroud over my head and leaned over the bowl. Gamble number one: the incense lit up instantly. Gamble number two: it really did burn my eyes; no more Desiree slapping me around. I was sure she'd be heartbroken. Gamble number three: while using my nifty little Amazon blade to gather my tears, I managed not to cut myself.
The inductees were much more impressed when they realized what I was doing under my head covering. The next step had me pulling back the shroud, standing up, and striding over the burning bowl of incense. Helena called out the first name. The lady didn't need any prodding. The Amazon walked over to my coat and knelt.
Helena wrote down her name and handed her the slip of paper. My Keeper motioned to the bowl. The first applicant placed her named slip of paper on the embers. The simple message flashed up and was consumed. That was unlooked for. I declared her old self dead. With my tears, I opened her eyes to our ancestral history and with blood, I brought her into our future.
She had entered House Ishara. She wasn't the only one crying either. What Rachel and her team thought was unknown to me. They were being hyper-vigilant. Esmeralda kept stealing glances our way. Things went along with joyous solemnity until the fourteenth woman, Alicia, knelt before me. Helena handed the paper over, the Amazon dropped it on the incense and nothing happened.
I was about to move on to the next part of the ritual when I caught sight of that. Buffy, Helena and the lady were all staring at the offending bit of tinder. I bent over and, with my index finger, pushed it into the embers. Nothing; no heat, or fiery consumption. I put some spit on my finger and pushed again. This time it burned me. The paper was fine. Damn it;
'Come on Ishara!' I screamed mentally. 'Can't I have a simple bit of theater without you mangling someone's dreams?' There was no supernatural scolding, or retort.
‘‘Alicia, Ishara believes you have not yet finished your walk outside our House,’‘ I consoled the woman; Alicia Holt. As she stood up, faced gripped with disbelief, Buffy rose and took her away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alicia shoot me a poisonous look. Buffy had anticipated this and was making sure the woman didn't make a scene. The last six women were even more nervous than the previous thirteen. Thankfully, Ishara was accepting of the remainder and we all transited to the group celebratory hug.
Act one has passed safely, Act two had an unexpected bump and here came round three. The 'dignitaries' started swooping in. Outside of the O'Shea's, none of the guests wanted to have another group behind them, or hemming in them. Two of the groups held back and since one was composed entirely of Asians, I was betting the other group was the Egyptian Rite.
One of my now four aunts came forward. My small crowd of Isharans gave her barely enough room to approach the grave. She placed a green rose upon my Mother's small marble marker. I wondered what my Mother would have thought of her sisters finally finding her; green rose? Who made green; probably the same sick son of a bitch who made female clones of himself?
The other three followed suit, placing the roses in a radiating sunburst on the small piece of marble. Through the wall of Illuminati security came; the Missing Link. Oh My God. I had heard of V-chested males, but this was insane. I swear his upper arms were as big as my thighs. The problem was the hips and legs of the body didn't match-up to the torso, arms, neck (or lack thereof) and shoulders.
The upper, steroid-addicted half belonged to a two meter tall giant. The lower half belonged to, maybe, a subpar man of a meter and a half This monster didn't have a receding hairline (actually, he did); he had a receding forehead. In homo-sapiens, if you roll a marble off their heads, it drops and hits the eyebrows. On this guy, it was a gentle ski-slope all the way down.
‘‘This is your Uncle Carrig,’‘ Brianna; I thought it was Brianna; made the introductions. I dialed up my Irish. Carrig meant; meant; 'rock'. Not 'the Rock' as in Dwayne Johnson. No, it meant 'rock' as in 'lump'. I had an Uncle Lumpy. How the fuck was I going to explain this at the next high school reunion?
The answer was obvious. I'd parade out my four lava-stoked volcanic aunt-hotties and no one would be able to see old Uncle Lumpy over their sexual radiance. Perhaps being created in the form of a disfigured Neanderthal made Lumpy furious with the world. That might be why he wanted Grandpa to stay dead. Maybe; oh hell, Lumpy had serious family issues, as in he wanted to hump my aunts who only wanted to hump me.
‘‘Hello Uncle Carrig,’‘ I started out. ‘‘Thank you for; ‘‘
‘‘Shut up,’‘ he sneered. ‘‘I came here to see your whore of a mother one last time, not listen to your prattle.’‘
‘‘Carrig, don't,’‘ Fiona intervened. ‘‘He is family.’‘
He took a deep breath.
‘‘I know why all of you want him in the Family,’‘ he snarled at his sisters.
‘‘Behave, or leave,’‘ I relayed in a far calmer voice than I felt.
‘‘I'll leave when I'm good and ready,’‘ Carrig turned his hate back on me.
He put a finger to his nose and cleared his sinuses. The resulting sputum he launched at my Mother's tiny rock reminder was dead-on the money, gooey, white and full of phlegm. I looked at that defilement. This red-hot poker of rage seared through my mind. Instead, I laughed. It started as a stuttered utterance but grew and grew into a rich, resounding conquest of death and despair.
‘‘Wow, Unc; that was kind of pathetic,’‘ I chuckled. ‘‘It is impossible to imagine you ever breathed the same air, much less hold any genetic resemblance, to the greatest criminal mastermind of the past millennia. Seriously, spitting on a piece of stone was the most your orangutan-like, sloped-headed pea brain could come up with?’‘
‘‘After that (cough) brilliant bit of diplomacy, he's probably glad he's still dead and didn't have to witness your infantile blunder,’‘ I added.
He was getting pissed; torn between his desires to pummel me, rip me to shreds, or storm off like a raging King Kong.
‘‘You know, when they killed Grandpa, they told me he made a noise like a stuck pig,’‘ I mirthfully met his hateful glare. ‘‘For a moment, they thought they'd killed the wrong man.’‘
‘‘They suspected you and Granddad were in the next chamber, him ramming you up your sissy-ass for the umpteenth time because you are nothing but a ball-less wonder of a cast-off eunuch,’‘ I kept taunting him.
‘‘Then they recalled that you always squealed like a piglet, not a full grown boar, so they completed their mission and left,’‘ I refused to flinch before his vile hatred.
‘‘You think you are funny?’‘ he leaned in and hissed.
‘‘I think you need a breath mint; and I am hilarious,’‘ I grinned. ‘‘I also think I'm the son Granddad always wanted, not you.’‘ That was me being mean; really mean.
‘‘We are not done,’‘ his eyes narrowed.
‘‘Take your pulse,’‘ I mocked him. ‘‘When it stops, we are finished. Until then, brush, use mouthwash and floss between meals. Your halitosis is truly offensive and worse, I think you are aware of it, yet still you refuse to respect other people's personal boundaries.’‘
‘‘We should go brother,’‘ Deidre beckoned.
She couldn't hide her amusement at his discomfort and humiliation. Uncle Carrig pivoted and back-handed her. Deidre went flying, but my idiot kinsman didn't have long to savor his win. I hit him with two lightning blows.
My first thought was that I had dislocated a few of my fingers from hitting his jaw. Wasn't there a Bond villain like that? Carrig turned on me, a feral fury brimming just beneath the surface.
‘‘That's a breach, you cocky, snot-nosed punk,’‘ he sneered. Mass carnage was in the offing.
‘‘You remain painfully ignorant, Uncle Carrig,’‘ I took a half-step back.
‘‘Take your punishment now, or later,’‘ he coughed. ‘‘It makes no difference to me.’‘
‘‘First off, Carrig, timing should be a poignant concern. Second, you have only now expended a great deal of your meager brain power convincing everyone here we are related; kin; O'Shea's,’‘ I explained. ‘‘Also, can I have my knife back?’‘
‘‘Knife?’‘ he blinked suspiciously.
‘‘Yeah, the knife I left in your chest,’‘ I pointed. I said I hit him twice. Uncle Lumpy looked down and, sure enough, my handy little 10 cm blade was between his second and third rib on the right side. I hadn't wanted to kill him.
I had wanted to hurt him and apparently failed at that; while sticking a blade almost up to the handle (Amazon personal blades have no hilt) into him;
‘‘What; how?’‘ Lumpy was slowly clueing in that he might be in some trouble.
‘‘Brother,’‘ Brianna stepped up; shooting me a sultry, 'bend me over the closest headstone and bang me like your Goth prom date' look.
I actually didn't go to my prom, Goth chicks are fun and Brianna didn't have panties on. Trust me; I have ESP concerning such things. Of more immediate concern;
‘‘Carrig, don't pull out the knife,’‘ she placed herself between us, facing him. ‘‘You will bleed all over the place.’‘
‘‘I'm about to ram it down his ass through his throat,’‘ he snarled, clearly educationally challenged. I'd left the blade there for that very reason; not have him fountain blood all over the gravesite.
‘‘How long is the blade?’‘ Brianna asked me. She already knew the answer.
‘‘10 cm,’‘ I was polite, ‘‘as is the knife every other Amazon carries.’‘
‘‘Reach around and pull out the blade when I tell you,’‘ Brianna requested. ‘‘I will keep pressure on the wound.’‘ I had serious doubts she had an MD associated with her name which meant she knew something I didn't. I also had a more pressing conundrum. Per instructions, I was about to be pressing against Brianna's backside with the added benefit of a free hand.
‘‘So, do you want me to pat them, or give them a good rub?’‘ I whispered to Brianna. I'd let he decide what treatment her ass was about to receive. ‘‘I figure if I reach around and massage your breasts, Carrig will lose it.’‘
‘‘Cáel, take a firm hold. Be doubly sure you are ready before we begin,’‘ Brianna instructed.
It wasn't the Di Vinci Code, but Carrig wasn't about to conquer a Denny's Kid's Menu (it has little games on it) anytime soon either. Brianna wanted double penetration and, in the name of renewing family relations and my inability to resist any available woman for more than a few days, I complied. Then the horror came crashing in; I hadn't had sex all day and it was almost 10 am.
‘‘Don't move, Uncle,’‘ I cautioned him. I used those words to conceal the sound of Brianna's skirt zipper going down. I used my other hand to gingerly grab my weapon; the knife; jeesh. Brianna spread her legs wider so that the tension kept her apparel from slipping down. My free hand went inside and got to work.
Fortunately, Brianna's hands pressing above and below the wound distracted Carrig from her cute, precious whimpering noises. I must be a total dick. I was stroking my aunt/clone mother with two fingers and teasing her bunghole with my thumb while pulling a knife from my uncle's chest. What is wrong with me?
For that matter, Ishara could stymie the ambitions of some poor 'Runner', yet decided her prime minion doing this was a good thing? I work for some screwed up people; dead and alive.
‘‘Okay, I'm about to do it,’‘ I warned them both. Brianna was kind enough to roll her hips forward and ass up for more direct access.
The blade came out, two fingers thrust into her depths, Carrig grunted more in annoyance than any physical distraction and Brianna gasped with piteous need. Before Carrig could start to connect A to B to C, I withdrew my fingers and zipped Brianna up. As I started to withdraw, Brianna acted like my loins were velcroed to her posterior.
‘‘Bad Girl,’‘ I quietly gave her a risqué reproach. She let me go. Then it hit me like a meteor; I had caused Brianna to orgasm, and hard, with one touch. In fact, she was still roughly riding through it. The mental discipline needed to mask her arousal was impressive. She had no control over her aromatic qualities, Lumpy's nostrils were working fine and his hateful, beady rodent-like eyes latched back on me.
‘‘I'm going to kill you,’‘ he screamed. Carrig definitely wanted to screw his sisters and they had certainly been denying him. I was curious how that had been accomplished. As he shoved Brianna aside, my suspicion about the seriousness of my wound to his chest was confirmed. I hadn't punched through his heavy corded muscle tissue; with a 10 cm blade. Fuck a duck.
If Uncle Carrig got those horrifically huge paws of his on me, I'd be paper-mâché in a hurricane; turned into veal; the very tenderized kind. That wasn't going to happen because of a little factor called crowd density. Most notably, he was in the midst of a passel of Amazons invested in my well-being. A sliver of the O'Shea family dynamic took hold.
As usual, it sucked to be me. The four O'Shea ladies rallied around Carrig, cautiously pulled him back then ushered him into the steely embrace of their security. Why did that mean it sucked to be me? In a momentary visual exchange, I understood what Lumpy instinctually sensed when he showed up today. His reign as the place-holder for me was coming to an end.
The second my Aunts recruited me over to their side, he was a goner. Obviously they had all the real intellect on that side of the clan. Poor Lumpy merely stomped around and acted like the socially maladjusted homicidal maniac he was. Once the journey to Grandpa's house began, he would cease to have any value whatsoever. Behind his animalistic, dull eyes, we shared that.
Tragically, but most likely by design, Carrig couldn't develop a new set of skills to adapt to the situation. The best example I could come up with was;
Imagine the last of the super-large amphibious predators confronting the first of the true dinosaur apex carnivores. Somewhere in that tiny amphibian brain, it knew it was screwed.
Evolution simply hadn't left it an 'out'. It couldn't get bigger, faster, or more ferocious. It had maxxed out those traits for that model. Nope, it was toast and nothing could save it. As I processed that, the rest of that train of thought came tumbling down. Lumpy was a dead man. He'd hit one of his sisters in front of me which was precisely what they wanted.
Deidre hadn't come by my place on Monday to warn me that Uncle Blockhead was trying to kill me. She was prepping me for the knowledge that they had killed Lumpy; to save me. Those incestuous nightmares had trotted Uncle Carrig out like a Barnum and Bailey Sasquatch, to loud acclaim and fanfare.
Before I could do some in depth research/check to see if this was the 'real' Sasquatch, he would vanish aka be killed to save me. Well played ladies. They should have taken into account I worked for Katrina Love. Katrina undoubtedly played three-dimensional chess on-line so she could lure out the true Vulcans trapped on Earth.
My aunts' straw man wasn't going to cut it. Back to the reality that included my father never again enjoying my meandering thoughts over dinner. Back to the other curious 'real' players as they moved in, having soaked up my ceremony and our O'Shea family struggle. If there as a benefit in that misadventure, it was the look on the faces of the two most distant groups.
The ambassadors had on their poker faces. I was two decades away from having a chance of deciphering them. Foolish mortals, both groups had brought women with them though. That was not to imply that women can't keep secrets; they are among the experts. It wasn't secrets they were defending though; it was the interaction between Brianna and me that opened them up.
If you are a woman and you see a man bring a different woman to orgasm with his fingers in under ten seconds and you are NOT intrigued, you have been sexually neutered. Even if you are a lesbian, you want your lover to pick up that technique. From the level of interest coming my way, I could tell what their bosses/associates really thought of me.
The lady who was already thinking how to pull me aside at the reception was also projecting that I had piqued her co-workers, despite their feigned disinterest. The one who was plotting out how to disguise herself as a maid, so she could hide in my bathroom closet until I came in for a shower this evening. Then the feigned interrogation/instructional demonstration could begin, which told me they had chosen to not leave Chicago today despite previous travel plans.
The three assholes won the social dare contest and approached me next. They were cool, somewhat disdainful and not a party to the murderous program that led us here today. They were still Condotteiri, thus my enemies and slayers of my Dad.
‘‘Mr. Nyilas,’‘ a smooth talking Canadian male began, ‘‘I wish to pass on the condolences of; ‘‘
‘‘I know it was you,’‘ I broke in. The Canadian; Ottawa, I thought; stopped talking, allowing me to vent. ‘‘You killed my father, you fucks. Now here is your 'I got drunk and stuck my cock in a meat grinder only to discover some other moron plugged it in' bullet to the brain. I am not only Cáel Nyilas, I am Cáel Ishara and Cáel, grandson of Cáel O'Shea,’‘ I narrowed my vision to menacing slits.
‘‘I will let you figure out which Goddess is Ishara as well as the convoluted genetics that has resurrected male Amazons. I want you to know that my father was the Head of House Ishara. You killed a Factor of the Illuminati, the 'Voice' of one of the Nine Clans, one of your own Generals, a Grand Master of the Egyptian Rite, a Ba Wang of the 7 Pillars, or a Chosen Son or Daughter, of Earth and Sky
‘‘That's right,’‘ I let the fear sink in. ‘‘This goes beyond a breach, Dumbass. You BROKE the Truce and have ended the Protocols by killing an Amazon leader. I'm sure claims of ignorance by your Generals will be taken for the empty blathering they are. It is time for your blood to soak the sacred soil of my father's place of entombment.’‘
Having buried him and his two cohorts in a rockslide of truth, my final bluff passed unrevealed for the empty threat it was. I could see by the looks in their eyes. Amazons didn't care about law enforcement. They would kill those three, vanish into the surrounds then slink back to their secret compounds. It was how the Condotteiri thought Amazon's worked.
‘‘Or,’‘ I grumbled, ‘‘Are you going to make me and my sisters hunt you down and work for it. Killing you with our knives is going to be;’‘ I was saying when their retreat began. I was going to say 'messy'. Those three took a half-dozen steps back then ran for it. Now the stage was fully set.
The three members of the Nine Clans came next. I took a totally different tone. Selena stepped up to speak, bowing as she started to speak.
‘‘We wish;’‘ she started. There was a lot of interrupting going on today.
‘‘Please do not bow to me,’‘ I requested softly.
‘‘We have fought and it seems inappropriate to me that, without there being a martial decision, we cannot be sure who should be more respectful to whom,’‘ I suggested. Selena quickly switched gears. She and her two female companions were now openly staring at me.
‘‘My Sith Lady is most likely preparing for trouble at my most vulnerable point,’‘ I told Selena.
‘‘I'm much more trouble than I first appear,’‘ I added. A hiccup in the conversation took place.
‘‘You are the male Head of an Amazon House; how?’‘ Selena questioned.
‘‘My father and the fathers before him carried the genes of the original Ishara. When Her daughters died out, the legacy fell to me,’‘ I explained.
Really smart girls; really, really smart girls.
‘‘You do not have any daughters, so your first born daughter will be the next Head of your House,’‘ the Hashashin noted quickly. ‘‘Of any line?’‘ Ah, the siren call of 'please have unprotected sex with me, Mr. Studmuffin. Not only will I walk bow-legged for a week afterwards, I'll have a political tool to use for a lifetime.'
‘‘Yes, that is true. Please understand, unless you can catch a thrown tomahawk with your feet, I can't say you are at the top of the list,’‘ I sighed. ‘‘Speaking of the acrobat of my dreams, how are you doing Miyako?’‘ I knocked away at the barrier between our respective groups. I could hardly be considered an Amazon if I wasn't stacking the odds against the Condotteiri, now could I?
On came that child-like Nipponese girl's smile that made me want to double-check her ID for proof of age.
‘‘It is recovering nicely. Thank you, Ishara-sama,’‘ she smiled warmly.
‘‘May I see?’‘ I inquired.
Miyako nodded so I went down until I was balanced on the balls of my feet. She deftly slipped out of one of her shoes, placed her foot on my knee then began rolling up the pants leg until the bandage was revealed. In the past few hours my medical knowledge had not increased one iota. I was pretty sure that Miyako knew what this doctor's visit was really all about.
I gently massaged her leg from ankle to knee, examining it for flaws and weaknesses. I received some manna from Heaven when I stumbled upon a muscle spasm in her foot arch. I worked it out in under thirty seconds and she gave me a musical murmur of relief when I was done. I put her shoe back on and rolled down her trouser leg.
‘‘I would still like you to see our medic if you could spare the half-hour,’‘ I offered as I stood.
‘‘If it would ease any misconceptions about our first encounter, I will do it,’‘ Miyako changed her mind from last night. My next neural misfire was 'Did I pack enough condoms to do all these girls I've been promising to fuck since I got here?'
‘‘Estere Abed,’‘ the thinly-veiled applicant to be the mother of my first child introduced herself. I was at my father's funeral, I'd been hit with the realization that my incestuous aunts are going to emasculate the uncle I'd just met before they kill him, and I was talking to a woman with skin the color of well-seasoned Oak, eyes as dark as expresso-roasted coffee beans (so deeply brown they were almost black), a pale turquoise, virtually transparent pretend-burqa, with inner, skimpy clothing bits keeping her barely street-legal and visualizing what our daughter would look like.
‘‘I am of Kurdish extraction,’‘ she lowered her head minutely. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Not only was a-bed something I was seriously considering with this woman, Estere was a Kurdish name of Old Persian extraction. It meant Ishtar; who was the advanced incarnation of Ishara. Bitch; aimed up at my Matron Goddess and Ancestral Mother turned Dominatrixes of my soul.
‘‘How; how mystically convergent that is,’‘ I grumbled. ‘‘I apologize. Me and my matron Ball-buster are exchanging psychic barbs at the moment. Had you somehow predicted this would have happened, I would be happier. With my luck though, this is accidental from the perspective of the mortal plane, thus a point of incredible annoyance to me right now.’‘
‘‘Do you often talk to your ancestors?’‘ Estere inquired politely.
‘‘Only after I've done something bad,’‘ I groaned. ‘‘Usually my Goddess is short on instructions yet always ready with 'I told you so'.’‘
‘‘How can she chastise you for doing wrong if she fails to give you direction?’‘ Estere was so sincere.
I had to keep in mind she was a professional librarian with the nasty habit of misfiling people's lives.
‘‘I can tell you don't deal with the Spirit World much,’‘ I gave a sad grin. ‘‘The last time she gave me a prod, I was staring down a life sentence in a dog cage; after I was condemned, not before.’‘
‘‘You escaped,’‘ she reminded me with a sparkle. I gave a harsh laugh.
‘‘No; no, I didn't,’‘ I said. ‘‘I'll prove it.’‘ I lashed out at Estere. She turned my strike aside and was about to do something I assumed would be unfortunate for me when she restrained herself. ‘‘See, Estere, you've been doing this most of your life. I'm a college kid who had a good fortune to meet and be guided by a series of stellar women.’‘
She nodded. She didn't understand yet she wanted to remain sympathetic.
‘‘I'm playing catch up in an incredibly lethal chess match,’‘ I continued. ‘‘My advantage is I'm not fuck-nuts crazy like the rest of you people. I don't mean to insult you. I simply want to make it clear how I feel. All the societies are spiritually malformed blights on reality; evil, twisted and predatory.’‘
‘‘But you like us,’‘ she observed.
‘‘I'm going to Hell,’‘ I risked much by brushing her nose with my finger from brow to the edge of the veil. ‘‘I might as well enjoy the journey.’‘ Since I returned with all the fingers I started out with, I could tell she appreciated my caress.
Our other guests were getting restless, so I had to end our interaction there. A lone man approached. He looked to be a Turkish/Mongolian mixture and he was uncomfortable with the way the situation had developed. I doubt I had offended him. It was much more the scope of this informal meeting had gone way above his pay grade.
As he was from the Earth and Sky, the Amazons' hostility simmered. I countered that by being as civil as possible. The emissary, Iskender, gave his condolences, I thanked him for his respect and entered into a small conversation. When he figured out who the Magyar were, he smiled. Iskender was a Kyrgyz, a Turkish people from Central Asia, and we bonded over our male progenitors having saddled up on our nomad ponies, making Eurasia tremble.
I was putting forth the effort to make him feel welcome. That was the message for him to take home. Not all the Amazons were going to have their knee-jerk reaction to the E and S's goal. Next came the Seven Pillars, mainly because the Egyptians seemed ready to wait for the grass to devour them before coming my way. Now I had to pillage the vaults of my crafty interpersonal skills to do this correctly.
Two men, endowed with as much racial supremacy as Ursula, if not more, introduced themselves. Slight bowing, polite English and the proper, rehearsed words flowed from their mouths. They didn't look down on me; the reason being that behind their perfect civility, they considered me and mine to be inconsequential. The nice female of an indeterminate South Asian lineage had that haunted look of someone made to do horrible things just to survive.
A flash of the macabre dumped a memory of her strangling homeless people in some back alleys with barbed wire; so it would hurt them both; training, Seven Pillars style.
‘‘Thank you for paying your respects at my father's grave,’‘ I started. They hadn't, btw. ‘‘I only ask for two things, please,’‘ I added humbly.
‘‘May I see her palms for a moment?’‘ I asked the man. The woman was clearly a servant; some sort of Palace Guard/Fuck Slave. The leader nodded. The girl was never consulted. Her hands came forward and they rolled so that I saw the scars on her palm; screw you, Ishara. I don't want to care about her. My day planner was more than full with anguish as it was. No answer.
‘‘I appreciate it,’‘ I smiled. I waited, keeping eye contact.
‘‘Was there something else?’‘ the leader finally gave in.
‘‘Oh yes,’‘ I smiled and nodded. ‘‘Don't get in our way. Behave, stay put on that rotting, rubble pile of a decadent and faded civilization you call Heaven and let us do what needs to be done.’‘
‘‘Is that clear enough, or do I need to send you both home with your irradiated testicles in jars?’‘ I kept politely smiling and nodding. I was threatening to make them eunuchs with the bonus of having their precious genetics rendered useless. The girl was giving off minute reactive tremors. That was okay. I had been anything, but quiet. Twenty Amazons were ready and willing to make my threat a reality.
I wasn't sure how they would break into Fermi Labs for the radiological material, but their resourcefulness never failed to amaze me. The two guys from the Seven Pillars were standing there, not sure what to do next. I had insulted and threatened them; emissaries. Didn't they realize Amazons had been killing poor bastards entreating them for peace for several millennia?
‘‘Beat it,’‘ I snapped with authority. ‘‘I'm done with you. Take my words back to your masters and pray they excuse your gutless reaction. Don't let the airport hit you in the ass.’‘ Ugly American? I was the God Damn Bearded Woman/Dog Boy American and their facades were finally fraying around the edges and not the least because going home and telling their bosses my exact words was going to be; well, the positive spin they put on it had better be impressive.
They left with their confident poise while the Egyptians approached with a bit of trepidation. Calling me erratic and volatile was being overly kind. My bet was the older male was in charge, but my age and lusty actions convinced them to put the younger woman forward. The younger male bodyguard wasn't even paying attention to me. If the shit went south, he knew he was a goner.
‘‘Greetings Cáel Ishara, it seems,’‘ she offered my hand to shake.
In Old Kingdom Egyptian he said; ‘‘May the Blessed Isis bring understanding to this greeting,’‘ I countered. Both she and the old man blinked. The rest was in the Egyptian of Ramses and Seti.
‘‘It is wonderful to see you speak our sacred tongue; or a close proximity,’‘ she smiled.
Not only was she generally happy, she was also pretty sure a very unfortunate confrontation was not in the offing. The bodyguard knew of the language but not enough to make out what was being said. The young lady and old man were more than happy to switch to this rare form of communication.
We chatted. Things like funerary rites, thoughts on the afterlife and the role of the supernatural in the modern world all came up. No secrets were exchanged and we actually went over some ancient jokes and ribald tales. Buffy's coughing brought us out of our reverie. They taught me the proper Egyptian Rite greeting and farewell, departing in peace.
The Amazons were stirring. It was time to head to the cars then on to the wake.
‘‘I do not understand you,’‘ Javiera grumbled. ‘‘You insulted multiple people, including threats of death and dismemberment. You struck and stabbed; something, but not before he knocked a women nearly three meters. I am not even sure that; relative of yours qualifies as human.’‘
‘‘I don't know how to approach you and that woman/aunt/whatever,’‘ she continued. ‘‘Was that incest, public sex, or sexual assault since I didn't hear her give permission for you to do; that?’‘ Whoops; jealousy. Nicole was a half-step back so she could hide her insidious smirk. She already knew I was a bad, bad boy.
‘‘I don't know if this makes it better, or worse, but that; those women are not just my aunts. They are the genetic duplicates of my mother and if you think it is funny that they look to be about my age; you wouldn't be alone,’‘ I sighed.
‘‘Is your mother dead?’‘ she seethed. ‘‘Normally, I would take a Death Certificate, mortuary report and a grave marker to be enough. Not with you.’‘
‘‘When I was seven years old I saw her very sick in the hospital. I never saw her die, or the cremation, so with my crazy life I'm not going to swear that she's no longer of this Earth,’‘ I confessed. ‘‘The only one who would know for sure would be; ‘‘
‘‘Your father,’‘ Javiera answered. I began crying all over again.
That was it. When I wanted someone dead, I was going to personally put a stake in their hearts, starting with me. This shit has gone down the rabbit hole. In that transitory micro-burst, I flipped. Not to crazy. I had spent my life believing in what was real; working out, girls, books, literature and art; things I could touch and feel, even if it was the air escaping my lungs as words, notes and sounds sprang forth.
Now I had to take things on faith. Not 'faith' as in the calculated possibilities which is what most people really meant. I had to accept that there were things beyond my senses that I could not measure, or codify, and move my life forward understanding the total lack of a solid foundation I was basing my actions on. I needed to see Aya so much it hurt.
‘‘Are you going to arrest me?’‘ I hiccupped. I was done bawling like a bereft child for a while.
‘‘For what?’‘ Javiera snapped. ‘‘If I took this insanity before any judge I know, I'd be on Administrative Leave, if not out of a job altogether.’‘
‘‘Oh yes,’‘ Nicole winked at me. ‘‘I was so looking forward to parading out the four identical aunts and the uncle/part-primate.’‘
Javiera shot Nicole a dirty look.
‘‘We need to go,’‘ Buffy reminded me. The only snag was the FBI guys, backed up by some Chicago PD, who intercepted Javiera as she walked with me to our limo. She had to separate for a minute to assure them she hadn't been kidnapped.
After some rumbling, we were gifted with one FBI 'bodyguard' for Javiera. That was laughable. If a psychotic fit seized us, there would be two dead government officials instead of one.
‘‘Did you really stab that guy?’‘ Special Agent Street Moslin asked once we were on our way.
‘‘My family believes in tough love,’‘ I muttered.
‘‘What sort of organized crime outfit are you with?’‘ was next.
‘‘Pre-teen beauty pageants,’‘ I sighed. ‘‘You wouldn't believe how cutthroat they are.’‘
‘‘It is a crime to lie to a criminal investigator,’‘ he countered.
‘‘And if this was an interrogation,’‘ Nicole sizzled, ‘‘you would have to Mirandize him.’‘
‘‘He has already been Mirandized,’‘ the puppy yipped.
‘‘Oh? On the charge of Criminal Conspiracy to commit; clarify the charge for me,’‘ Nicole grinned. Street looked to Javiera.
‘‘What? Special Agent Moslin, consider yourself to not know a damn thing about what is going on and proceed from there,’‘ Javiera informed him.
The poor bastard looked perplexed.
‘‘I will put your situation in context. The woman to my side (Rachel) is about to slit your throat. The woman (Buffy) next to Ms. Lawless is going to snap your neck. They do not give a crap that you, or I, are federal agents. The issue is not what will you do, it is which one gets to you first,’‘ Javiera glared at him. ‘‘Clear?’‘
SA Street wasn't done yet.
‘‘They will get away with it because I suspect they already have such a contingency worked out,’‘ Javiera educated him. Javiera was yet Another really clever lady.
‘‘Call for our back-up vehicle, pull into a private driveway where you cannot legally follow us, abandon the vehicle, get picked up and leave the city on a private aircraft to another nation,’‘ Rachel sounded bored. That was so nice of her to assist Javiera out that way.
‘‘Thank you,’‘ I told Rachel. ‘‘That was very helpful of you.’‘
‘‘I want the male to shut-up,’‘ Rachel answered. ‘‘He's grating. Worse, he's making me wish Pamela was with us and that is so wrong.’‘ I held up a finger to forestall Street.
‘‘Honestly Dude, she's is not messing with your head. She wants you to shut up, so please be quiet,’‘ I urged him. I conceptualized the assessment he was making. Crap.
‘‘Guy, whatever workout routine you think gives you the edge is what she does to warm up in the morning,’‘ I pleaded. Street had the 'she's only a girl' look about him. ‘‘Her combat training is with live rounds, real weapons and a plethora of scrapes, cuts and broken bones. I have little doubt that she's killed people, some in cold blood.’‘
‘‘You being Top Shot at the local range and a Judo Champ isn't going to cut it,’‘ I emphasized.
‘‘You think she's some kind of Special Forces operator?’‘ he mocked me. Javiera and Nicole got nervous. I didn't. Beginner's Amazon Psychology; male opinions do not matter. Rachel and Buffy weren't insulted because he was a chattering chimp and nothing more.
‘‘Have you ever heard of an all-female Special Forces unit?’‘ I prodded.
‘‘No,’‘ he snorted. I kept staring; and staring; and then the idea began creeping in.
‘‘Where do you train?’‘ Street looked at Rachel. Rachel was looking at him, not 'at' him.
‘‘Please Rachel,’‘ I requested. That was really for Javiera's benefit.
‘‘Physical training started at age five, weapons training at nine, survival testing at twelve, craft training at fifteen, and acceptance at nineteen,’‘ she rattled off in a monotone. ‘‘I am thirty.’‘
‘‘What is 'craft training'?’‘ Javiera inquired.
‘‘Learning to kill people and destroy things,’‘ she began.
‘‘My specialties are small unit tactics, security operations, electronic countermeasures and Recon Sniper,’‘ Rachel replied. ‘‘I am an accepted close combat trainer and handheld weapon expert. Do I need to explain any of that?’‘ Pause. Street snorted.
‘‘Do you ever sleep?’‘ Street joked. Rachel looked to me then rolled her eyes.
‘‘Yes. Six hours; every day unless duty intervenes,’‘ she said.
‘‘Right; so, what martial arts style do you practice?’‘ he asked.
‘‘Not one you have ever heard of,’‘ Rachel took a deep breath.
‘‘Try me,’‘ Street entreated. ‘‘I've practiced with several.’‘
‘‘Male, do I look like I enjoy talking to you?’‘ Rachel glared. ‘‘To alleviate your obvious confusion, I do not. If you wish to lower the hostility level, hand me your pistol and the sap at your back. Your possession of said weapons in the presence of Cáel complicates my job. This is almost as irritating is restraining myself from taking them from you like the infant you are.’‘
‘‘You think you could?’‘ Street challenged her. ‘‘I was with the 82nd Airborne in Afghanistan.’‘
‘‘Special Agent Moslin, she doesn't care. You might as well have told her you were a weekend security guard at an amusement park,’‘ I reasoned. ‘‘In her mind, being born with a penis renders all your accomplishments so much hyperbole; kind of how her having tits lowered your respect for her as a fighter.’‘ That successful ended that diversion.
(The wake)
Life was wonderful. I walked in the door of the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion, Charlotte pulled me into a vacant side room and handed me a secure phone. She mouthed the name of the person on the other end.
‘‘Hayden,’‘ I sighed to my High Priestess.
‘‘Ishara (not using my first name was a bad sign), I have heard a report that you have declared war on the Condotteiri,’‘ she gave me the 'I'm going to skin you alive' purr.
‘‘Yep and I urinated on the Seven Pillars too,’‘ I confirmed. ‘‘Don't worry about the Illuminati. I've got that alliance sown up.’‘
‘‘I'm going to have a member of the Nine Clans give me my first born, Ishara daughter, so that prospective alliance looks good as well,’‘ I added. ‘‘I even managed to be diplomatic with Earth and Sky. It is not even noon yet either. No need to thank me. Knowing you are thinking passionate thoughts about me is enough.’‘ Charlotte looked like her eyes were going to bug out.
‘‘We are clear on the fact that there are fifty two other houses in the House, aren't we Cáel?’‘ Hayden murmured.
‘‘Hey now,’‘ I reposed, ‘‘you said to not pick a fight inside Havenstone. You didn't say anything about these sons of bitches on the outside. I also added nineteen new members. Ishara rejected one who I now think was a closet Man-hater's man-hater.’‘
‘‘I want you to come back to Havenstone immediately and keep your mouth shut,’‘ she commanded. ‘‘The Council will be rightly furious.’‘
‘‘With me?’‘ I asked.
‘‘Of course with you,’‘ Hayden growled.
‘‘With the aid of the Federal Assistant Attorney, I received computer discs with extensive and sensitive data on Havenstone, including pictures and locations of Sydney and Marilynn, your daughter and granddaughter,’‘ I lied. ‘‘The feds seized the Condotteiri's private jet.’‘ Silence.
‘‘What? Why am I only now hearing of this?’‘ Hayden inquired with a deathly calm.
‘‘Do you want me to work with the feds to finish hunting down those last two killers while I send someone back with the data?’‘ I persisted. An oddly longer pause.
‘‘Katrina insists there is no data,’‘ Hayden seethed.
‘‘Of course there is no data,’‘ I snapped back. ‘‘Unlike you, I'm loyal to EVERY MEMBER of the Host, not just the ones I approve of! If I had something that important, it would be on the way to you, if not already in your hands. My House Head has been murdered. Support me; don't support me. It doesn't change that reality. You have lowered your worth in my eyes, Hayden. We will talk of this when I return.’‘ And I hung up. Charlotte kept gaping at me.
‘‘Do you think I was clear enough, Charlotte?’‘ I asked her.
‘‘Yes Ishara,’‘ she whispered. ‘‘I doubt a single ancestor misconstrued your wrath.’‘ That stopped me in my tracks. A rank and file Amazon using my house name was perfectly acceptable. A Council 'equal' saying it was the equivalent of your pissed Mom yelling out your entire name.
‘‘You agree with me?’‘ I blinked.
‘‘Had it been Fatima, Beyoncé, or Ngozi there would be no debate,’‘ Charlotte answered. ‘‘I don't like you; okay, beyond your physical magnetism I do not like you. You are still the Head of House Ishara and we believe that the ancestors move through you.’‘ By 'we' I imagine she meant Rachel's SD detachment. A social paradigm presented itself.
Amazons were surprisingly democratic for such an ancient society. Their bonds of sisterhood gave them greater liberty than any other group I'd heard of. All could take their grievances to the highest authority. They could hate me and die for me at the same time, in the same way Charlotte could be honest at that moment. I was her superior in rank yet her equal in blood.
‘‘You realize that if you tell Buffy about this she'll beat me black and blue,’‘ I teased Charlotte.
‘‘No can do, Ishara,’‘ she chuckled. ‘‘She's your sister and, quite frankly, you wove this disaster and if anyone deserves to remind you of the trouble you've wrought, it is her.’‘
‘‘I would call you a heartless Amazon, but that's kind of redundant,’‘ I glowered playfully.
I couldn't hide with Charlotte in the side room forever. It was my father's wake after all. Out I went and there was Buffy waiting for me.
‘‘We have a problem,’‘ Buffy murmured to me as I headed to the main reception area/family room. ‘‘There are some questions concerning your Aunt Stella and the Ishara legacy.’‘
‘‘Thank God,’‘ I muttered. My crisis was momentarily sidelined. I moved into the gathering, letting Helena and Buffy bring the Amazon to my corner. ‘‘Quick and easy,’‘ I stated as the last one joined us. ‘‘Okay, that's an exaggeration. According to the Shawnee Arinniti, the Ishara/Vranus line passes along the Y-chromosome.’‘
‘‘How that translates to my daughters having the Ishara bloodline; Shawnee smiled at me and said it would happen, by the Will of the Ancestors,’‘ I looked them over. They weren't born Amazons so they didn't bob their heads in blind acceptance. ‘‘Yeah, me to,’‘ I acknowledged their cynicism.
‘‘Except I ended up on Day Two of this job, standing in the Havenstone boardroom, listening to women talking in a dead language I learned solely to arouse my first lover and mentor. Then I encouraged a little Amazon girl to shoot AT me while I stood next to her target. She was so nervous, her first shot fell short and skidded to my feet.
Her second arrow hit the mark; her first hit of the day. I didn't want that first arrow to remind her of 'almost' succeeding, so I picked it up. Because of that, an assassin barely missed her first shot at me. I stopped Oneida Arinniti's death curse; not because I had any idea there was such a thing, but because it felt 'wrong' to let her die. Make of that what you will.
You all have one incredible advantage over all Amazons born into the Host. Search back to your time before here and examine what you know about men. Then tell me why I would want this position? You are a legion of man-haters. At best, you do not want to understand me. At worse, you think I should be a pet with my tongue cut out.
Some of you may think it could be for the sex. No. I had over 200 sexual encounters over four years in college. If anything, Havenstone is slowing me down. After all, even the Havenstone women who do like me still consider me property half the time and some SD chicks swooping in during lunch can put a real cramp in my dating style.’‘
‘‘What did you do wrong?’‘ Marsha inquired.
‘‘Buffy?’‘ I passed the buck.
‘‘Three possible choices: Cáel elevates every sexual encounter he is in to unforeseen levels making him indispensable to any happy home.
I have a feud with the head of Havenstone HQ's SD; Elsa, and Cáel chose me over her.
And thirdly, he physically molested Elsa to orgasm,’‘ Buffy finished.
‘‘Ugh;’‘ I sighed. ‘‘Wasn't sure you knew about the last one.’‘
‘‘I own you,’‘ Buffy scolded me. ‘‘Get used to it.’‘
The psycho-bitches all chuckled. I was back as undisputed Head of House Ishara; because a bitch owned me. Yay democracy. I could give a futile stab at trying to convince Odette not to spill every detail of my sex life to Buffy. That would be unfair. Buffy scared me and I had an actual chance of not dying at her hands. Odette would be pâté.
Making my way back to Aunt Stella was a relief. She was back to being a Nyilas; stoic, thoughtful and level-headed.
‘‘Cáel, what is going on here?’‘ she took me by the forearm while being quietly insistent.
‘‘Dad was murdered and I'm going to kill the people responsible,’‘ I replied. ‘‘Vér a vér; blood for blood,’‘ I translated.
‘‘Can you possibly win this feud?’‘ she asked next.
‘‘See those women I've been hanging out with?’‘ I started to explain.
‘‘Do you mean that street gang who look like they are ready to start a fight, your mother's ten sisters, or those; three; I can only see two now; odder than the rest of the women?’‘ Stella cut to the heart of the matter.
‘‘Ten!’‘ I gulped.
‘‘Yes. They all have come by and talked with me; very polite. They remind me of octopi; looking somewhat harmless with a fiendish intellect cleverly concealed behind their eyes,’‘ Stella informed me. Oh yeah, crab-fisher-folk and octopi didn't get along.
‘‘They are also all soaked in evil,’‘ I cautioned my last living kin, ‘‘just so we are clear.’‘
‘‘Of course,’‘ she nodded. ‘‘That have that off-kilter, squirrelly look your mother always had.’‘
‘‘Some people think she might not be dead,’‘ I sighed.
‘‘She's not,’‘ Stella patted my hand.
‘‘Your father once told me that if he was ever killed, I was to take you in until your mother showed back up for you. That is all he ever said on the matter. I was not sure why she pretended to die; until today when I met the rest of the family; the ones not killed in that freak Arctic Sperm Whale Hunting accident.’‘
I felt like Uncle Lumpy had rammed his monster fist through my midsection and ripped out my spine. I couldn't think of why my mother would; ah shit. My dad, who had been a giant in my life, rose to ranks of the titans in my love and respect. He earned that status in that moment for not hating me with all his heart for most of my life. I had driven Mom away.
Not an ounce of resentment, or anger, had ever shone through. As I grew up, all that addictive crap that Granddad had woven into my genetics must have started to kick in. I may have looked different, but I had his eyes. I could only imagine what that conversation between Mom and Dad must have been like when she decided she had to go.
They had shared nine years of bliss. Before my grandfather's madness overtook her once more, she had to leave me, thus my father. Dad couldn't have created the cover story, but the daughter of Cáel O'Shea would have done it effortlessly. My father sat there, month after month, paying off a debt he'd never earned so that when they came looking it would all make sense.
When someone jumps in front of a bullet for you, you know they've given up everything for you. My father had bled inside for fifteen years, gone down swinging with a floor lamp in his hands, for a wife he would never see again; not even knowing if she was alive, or dead; and a son who didn't know what price his father was paying for his son's safety. I patted Aunt Stella's hand and wandered past the faceless well-wishers.
In Akkadian, I said; ‘‘Vengeance is my fire that consumes my enemies. Let those we tread in my dust eat their ashes.’‘
‘‘What was that?’‘ Javiera caught me off guard. Nicole and Street were keeping up with her.
‘‘It is Assyrian,’‘ was my abrupt answer.
‘‘What does it mean?’‘ Street pressed.
‘‘It means I hate, Special Agent of the FBI Street Moslin,’‘ I glared through teary-eyes. ‘‘I hate that certain people breathe. I hate that they block the sunlight from touching the ground. I hate that people take other people's lives for granted; you included, Butt-Monkey.’‘
‘‘What does that mean?’‘ he tensed up and leaned in.
‘‘It means I'm not stupid. It also means I can have the life's diary of any person I can think of on my tiny little desk in a week's time,’‘ I glared right back.
‘‘Are you threatening me?’‘ he sneered.
‘‘Mr. Nyilas did no such thing,’‘ Nicole defended me.
‘‘Perhaps Mr. Nyilas can clarify what he did mean,’‘ Javiera studied me. Like Nicole, she knew something had twisted the proverbial life into my already wounded heart.
‘‘I meant that the rest of you assume civility as a right,’‘ I reigned in my fractured emotions.
‘‘Hunting wasn't always going where you pleased, tracking down a helpless prey, slaughtering it and taking that trophy,’‘ I continued. ‘‘Hunters have forgotten that once there were bears, wolves, lions and other hunters who took exception to such liberties. They have forgotten that it was often more efficient for the other predators to track him back to his lair and take him as he walked out of his cave, still thinking the world obeyed his rules. People need to really examine who we are and what are true role in life is.
What we are and what we choose to be is part of the philosophical war in the human psyche. Between the hunter, who roams, and the farmer, who is tied to one place. The invader, who seizes what he wishes, and the supplicant, who surrenders up part to save the rest. And, the solitary man, free from control yet unsafe, and the tribesman, controlled yet dwelling in shared security. We are torn,’‘ I finished.
‘‘Nice obfuscated flourish to cover your ass,’‘ Street mocked me. Javiera yanked him around so that he was facing her.
‘‘What is your problem?’‘ Javiera hissed.
‘‘He is guilty as sin and behaving like some 1920's Mafioso,’‘ Street reposed. ‘‘He doesn't scare me.’‘ I laughed at that.
‘‘Whoa,’‘ I chuckled. It was painful, but I did it.
‘‘You keep sliding down the old smart-o-meter, don't ya, Street?’‘ I shook my head. ‘‘You have knuckle-dragged your way right out of the game. I am now asking you to leave my father's wake. I'll give you a minute then I'm sending in the 'little girls' squad to show you the door.’‘
‘‘I am here to protect a Federal Attorney,’‘ Street glared.
‘‘She can leave, or stay; her choice,’‘ I offered. ‘‘Javiera has been firm yet polite. She's certainly not been insulting to me and my guests.’‘
‘‘Special Agent Milson, please leave. Your official services are neither required, beneficial nor desired,’‘ Javiera dismissed the guy. Street looked angrily offended then left.
‘‘So, which penitentiary are you sending me to?’‘ I asked Javiera. Nicole arched an eyebrow.
‘‘It depends on where I think my promotion will take me,’‘ she mused.
‘‘Have I missed something?’‘ Nicole inquired.
‘‘Well, we can't have intercourse while I have him under investigation and I am going to arrest, indict, and convict him,’‘ Javiera answered.
‘‘Not on my watch,’‘ Pamela shifted seamlessly through the crowd. ‘‘I take from the description that you are the new number one watchdog. I'm not glad to meet you. Stop trying to be Cáel's match. You don't know the kind of contest you are getting into.’‘
‘‘Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition,’‘ Javiera countered.
‘‘Did you use a man to make a feminist argument?’‘ I regarded Javiera. ‘‘Timothy Leary,’‘ I added for Pamela's benefit.
‘‘I prefer George Carlin,’‘ Pamela noted. ‘‘He; correctly; thought everyone was incompetent.’‘
‘‘You must be Cáel's white shadow I keep hearing about,’‘ Javiera extended her hand.
‘‘Cáel,’‘ Pamela turned to me, not shaking the proffered appendage, ‘‘do I come across as a lesbian? I am curious because women are always asking for my name and trying to touch me.’‘
‘‘I wouldn't know,’‘ I sighed. ‘‘I've never looked at you as a sexual being. Normally, you so freak me out my balls crawl up inside my body and I start looking for the closest exit.’‘
Total lie. Pamela felt more like family to me than Aunt Stella. Certainly more than my 'Ten?' O'Shea aunts and Lumpy; if he was still bumping around.
‘‘I've seen the size of your ginormous nut sack, Cáel,’‘ Pamela chortled. ‘‘Said retraction is physically impossible.’‘ Seeing Nicole and Javiera's confusion. ‘‘We shower together (sigh). We have communal showers at Havenstone.’‘
‘‘That's rather egalitarian,’‘ Javiera commented snidely.
‘‘What? Havenstone is going to build a shower complex for the grand total of three men that still work there?’‘ Pamela engaged her. ‘‘I don't think so. Cáel, as fun as this distraction has been, I need you to do something for me. I want you to meet a friend.’‘
‘‘You don't have any friends,’‘ I reposed. ‘‘Except for me and I am hardly honored by the distinction.’‘ Again, total lie. Pamela was one of the three people in my life I considered to be a true friend. Timothy, my rock-solid, hard-working gay tattoo artist roommate, Odette, my passionate, young post-high school girl looking for more in life, and Pamela; my soul mate, if Ishara would let me have a soul.
Rachel started following us as we left the main room. Charlotte was watching the front doors, Tiger Lily was with our car, and Mona was most likely roaming the back. The unexpected destination of our quest was the third floor bathroom. I didn't recall having to 'go' until I arrived.
‘‘There you go,’‘ Pamela presented me the door.
Rachel peeked in first, did a quick poke/scan, then gave me the nod before retiring. I went in and took a pee, trying, and failing, to put together what in the hell Pamela was up to; no hand towels to dry off with. I opened the armoire and a folded-up Miyako handed me said bathroom accoutrement.
‘‘Does this make you a 'ninja in my closet', or 'a closet ninja'?’‘ I asked.
She uncoiled herself from that awkward position. Since it was completely unnecessary, I caught her.
‘‘What are you doing here?’‘ I continued.
Miyako started off with a name in Japanese adding, ‘‘told me you wanted to meet in private.’‘
‘‘Okay, I missed the name,’‘ I worried.
‘‘Um; it translates over to something like 'Frosty, the Snow-white Gremlin',’‘ Miyako stated. ‘‘She said you wanted to see me. I am neither a ninja in your closet; it wasn't your closet, nor am I a 'closet ninja' as no ninja is classified as a ninja. That defeats the purpose of being invisible warriors.’‘
I put the Nipponese beauty down, sat on the edge of the tub and wiped my hands on the towel.
‘‘Have you ever thought about a normal life outside of this; madhouse?’‘ I posed.
‘‘Yes,’‘ Miyako nodded. ‘‘I see normal people living normal lives, free of the mortal fears of my daily existence and I am envious at times.’‘
‘‘I have my Oaths to consider, Cáel Ishara. There is my family that nurtured and trained me. Leaving the Families would be a death sentence, plus we have a host of enemies. Any life I would have would be on the run, short, nasty, brutal and violently final,’‘ she related. That didn't help much.
‘‘Legendary Daimyos raze a dozen mighty castles. Legendary Fathers raise a dozen happy children,’‘ was the saying she gifted me with as a smile traced across her lips and her eyes shone with compassion. I doubted 'raze' and 'raise' were that close in Japanese, but I went with it.
‘‘So why are we here again?’‘ I sighed.
‘‘Your friend said you wanted to speak with me, yet it is now clear that is not the case,’‘ Miyako reasoned. She could have left, accepting the deception of what it was. Instead, ‘‘Do you wish to see my wound? I had it looked after by your 'Mona',’‘ Miyako offered.
‘‘Sure,’‘ I allowed.
She started off by removing her dark, shark-skin jacket. She folded it, placing it across the toilet seat (top down). Her shirt came next; a plain white number. The bra followed. This was a lot of work for a leg wound, not that I minded. Her bra was unspectacular which highlighted her breasts all the more.
Her mammaries were a solid, high-twenties B-cup, with the bases being perfectly formed hemispheres and the tops being finely sculpted convex slopes to the areolas.
‘‘You have certainly seen more attractive women,’‘ Miyako stopped and studied me.
‘‘Yes, I have. I'm soaking up the experience of being with a below average one for a change,’‘ I nodded. No, I wasn't letting her get away with the 'I'm just a girl' game she was playing.
‘‘You are scalding me with your wit,’‘ her eyes scolded me.
‘‘I make up for it by being a wicked bridge player,’‘ I met her dancing light with my own renewed mirth. Off went the shoes and down came her pants. Yep; full front, pink lace panties up front and a thong in back. Wiggling out of her underwear didn't take a second.
The standing split so she could dangle her wounded appendage in front of my eyes was exceptional and new.
‘‘See,’‘ she commented softly. ‘‘I had my wound tended to by your medic.’‘
‘‘It looks somewhat inflamed,’‘ I pointed out. Miyako's eyebrows flinched.
‘‘Yes, starting right here,’‘ I kissed her big toe, ‘‘and here,’‘ the first toe,’‘ and so on. Miyako was strong in the enduring, athletic way of all competitive (and combative) gymnasts. She patiently held her standing split pose until I tired of the pretense, and the neck crick I was working on as I licked her vulva, and pulled Miyako's sex box up to my face.
I should have recalled that at age three, the ninja masters had her swinging through trees like a Gibbon. Miyako leaned back and back and back until my penis was just above; below her ear. I was a bit taller than my Nipponese Ninja so she opted for a hair covered (nice, silky locks) hand job. I quickly taught her she wasn't in the bush leagues anymore.
So, I couldn't catch a tomahawk with any part of my anatomy that wasn't a hand. I could find a girls G-spot inside of two minutes plus another to figure out what kind of tongue/finger motion was the most pleasurable and she was my toy to play with. I would never tell Miyako that. She'd do something horrible to me and it would be a week later before I even figured out what it was.
Miyako was a bad little ninja kitty. She orgasmed quite vocally. I was happy right up until Rachel burst in ready to kill somebody who wasn't me. By the look on her face as she drank in the scene, she might have wished to kill me after all.
‘‘It is all my fault, Rachel,’‘ Pamela spoke up from behind. ‘‘I set them up.’‘
Thankfully, Rachel backed out so she could give Pamela a good-sized piece of her mind.
‘‘That was very pleasurable, Ishara-sama,’‘ Miyako flexed back up until she rested with her thighs on my shoulders, her hands in my hair and her eyes looking down into mine.
‘‘We aren't done yet,’‘ I began kissing her lower abdomen. Happy killer-ninja babe.
Miyako helped me undress. Actually, she damn near tore off my clothes. Remember, ninja aren't Geisha and Geisha don't put out anyway. Cheap, or not-so-cheap, sex is what prostitutes are for in the Land of the Rising Sun. I worried about squeezing into her. Miyako vaulted onto me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she guided her tight body downward, her slit perfectly targeted to join with my sceptre.
‘‘Ugh; tight,’‘ I coughed softly. By the closed-eyed look of concentration, she was coming to that realization too. She started trying to wiggle away.
‘‘I did this wrong,’‘ she moped. I wouldn't let go.
‘‘How about we stay like this for a while,’‘ I offered.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist and nestled in. We stayed that way for several minutes then I gave her a slight 'thump' up. She slid up me, then fell back down.
‘‘Oh,’‘ she purred. She kissed my shoulder. Another bounce; more kissing.
Before long, we were humping and sweating away. She made these cherished little chirping noises I was now associating with climax.
‘‘You can scream into my chest in order to keep quiet,’‘ I suggested. She nodded; more kissing and licking along my shoulders and neck. She was close.
The breath and vibration of her howl tantalized my pectorals. An unwelcome side effect was;
‘‘Tight;’‘ I gasped. ‘‘Too tight.’‘ Her legs and arms had constricted like a python around my body. She immediately eased her grip the coasted back through her erotic release.
‘‘That was very pleasant, Ishara-sama,’‘ Miyako whispered to me.
‘‘You should come to my home sometime and meet my grandfather,’‘ she murmured.
‘‘I think I would do better with your grandmother,’‘ I countered.
‘‘Oh no,’‘ she insisted. ‘‘Grandmother is wicked. My grandfather is a gardener. The first thing she would ask you was if I was still a virgin and if I wasn't, she would insist you marry me.’‘
‘‘But you weren't a virgin when I met you,’‘ I complained.
‘‘She knows that. As I said, she is a wicked woman,’‘ Miyako explained. ‘‘Are we done?’‘
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
‘‘Oh goodie!’‘ Miyako exclaimed and off we went. Apparently full-blooded ninja got out as much as full-blooded Amazon; not a lot.
When we eventually exited, Miyako was sublimely graceful, I was glad I had washed and toweled off, Rachel was displeased and Pamela was Pamela.
‘‘Good job, Stud. You knocked her up like a good boy should,’‘ Pamela patted me on the back.
‘‘It doesn't really work like that,’‘ I muttered.
‘‘I have faith in you. Now, in twenty-eight days you have to impregnate the other two so we have the Nine Clans in the bag. I heard you made a good impression on the Earth and Sky; another plus, and; I still think your O'Shea Aunts are going to go wonky when they get a whiff of you, so let's be prepared for you sexing up one, or two, before we head home tonight.
‘‘You are despicable,’‘ I grumbled to Pamela. Rachel clearly agreed.
‘‘A little poetic license; I thought I saw some Cunt; I did, I did,’‘ Pamela struck back.
‘‘I am glad you are family,’‘ I glared at Pamela. ‘‘Otherwise I might ask Rachel to hurt you and that wouldn't be fair to her.’‘ Pamela laughed joyously as we made our way back to my father's wake.
Living the nightmare; hungering for a normal life.
To be continued in Part 22
By FinalStand for Literotica.