Cáel and the Manhattan Amazons: Part 25

Promises To Keep.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

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Note to readers: There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. My apologies to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works.

‘‘Never judge a friend by what they give, but of how much of themselves they give.’‘

(From the floor of Katrina's office)

First thoughts,  I was on the floor where I had fallen, surrounded and being manhandled in the tenderest way. That was a romantic means of relating to my mummification. Those little Band-Aids that had been applied when I woke up from my coma had failed the 'Cáel is a Smeckle-head' test.

All the crud they had pumped into my system and amperage they had channeled through my muscles was not the same as eating and exercise. Having a sexual romp with two ladies? My Goddess made plans for my body that my caloric bank account couldn't afford, thus me passing out. Unlike my time with Miyako and Estere, I had a feeling my two sofa-buddies were ovulating.

Fatherhood was on the way. How my infant would survive the continuous poisonous assault on the augur's lymphatic system was beyond me. Her guardian, let's just say I dealt with sneaky bitches/Dot on a regular basis and leave it at that.

‘‘He is awake,’‘ Tadêfi alerted the room. ‘‘You must leave so I can deliver my message to him in the privacy he requested.’‘

‘‘I am almost done,’‘ a different Amazon voice stated. She was the medico dealing with my wounds. By the aroma, she had slathered on two coats of the healing goo that was becoming as comfortable to my nostrils as my soap-on-a-rope. A few more rounds of adhesive tape and the exodus from the room began. I hadn't opened my eyes because I was unprepared for the looks of anger, disappointment and concern surely leveled my way.

The door shut and my eyes opened.

‘‘The Conqueror, the Champion, the Friendless and the Foe have all escaped the Land of the Endless Black Sands and returned to the Sunlit Realm,’‘ Tadêfi whispered upon my lips.

Huh? That was it? Seriously, four freaking titles without,

And here came the rest, faces. Faces with eyes and eyes with a purpose. Names, not names I wanted to hear at the moment. Bad fucking news all around. It couldn't be something helpful like the identity of the next High Priestess, No, that would be good fucking news. Okay, time to turn this frown upside down.

I could make this work for me. How, I wasn't sure.

‘‘Thank you,’‘ I responded to Tadêfi's plea of understanding. Outside of having impregnating sex with me, the Sex-Master, Timothy was going to Nerf-shoot me for that, she'd endured spiritual, mental and physical grief and torment to be with me here today. She waited, kneeling beside my head.

‘‘Kiss me,’‘ I requested. It was a moist act, full of compassion and understanding. I racked my mind for the names and their importance. ‘‘Who was Shammuramat?’‘

‘‘I don't know, but this helps, right?’‘ Tadêfi expressed her need to make the reward for the sacrifices to make sense. Five dead sister-augurs.

They had to find that son-of-a-bitch!

‘‘Tadêfi, we are back in the fight,’‘ I grinned. ‘‘You and your sisters have given the Host a mighty weapon in the upcoming struggle.’‘ I knew that to be true because I knew who and where the Conqueror was, I knew he wasn't ready to be revealed, his enemies were closing in and he was ignorant of that fact. I was going to have to rain on his parade to save his life.

The five augurs hadn't died futilely. The Weave of Fate had shielded the man and it took the augers' fanatical devotion to cut the threads and expose the truth the Host needed most. The Champion, hell, I knew who he was. I chuckled. Tadêfi was confused. The Champion was coming to kill me, me and a bunch of other Amazons, because blood feuds tend to run both ways.

The Foe. He was easy enough. Granddad. The Bastard just wouldn't stay dead. I had a clue to what was going on now. I wasn't sure how useful that knowledge would be. Still, knowledge is knowledge. That thing crawling around inside my brain? No help there. That left Shammuramat. That name was familiar. Even when I finally placed it, I didn't understand her role in things.

Why her?

‘‘Krasimira,’‘ I called out. I struggled to sit up and with Tadêfi's help, I did so. The Keeper and two guardians entered as well. One, Sikia, hovered over her companion/augur.

‘‘What is the link between Shammuramat and the Host?’‘ I inquired. I saw no recognition in the Keeper's eyes. ‘‘She was the first ever ‘‘independent’‘ queen of a nation-state, Assyria.’‘

Krasimira sat on the sofa and retrieved her tablet from inside her robes. She began working with the electronic history of the Amazon race.

‘‘9th Century BCE,’‘ I added. Slowly others migrated back into the room. Buffy, Katrina (not good and not happy), Elsa (really not good) and Desiree. Pamela leaned against the door sill, neither in nor out.

Katrina sat behind her desk. The phone came out and whispered conversations began in earnest. I had shoved us straight into a war which looked like a free for all at the moment. No one trusted anyone. No one could afford to. I had to change that. The only saving grace was that it appeared no Secret Society had planned for the Protocols to abruptly end a week and a half ago.

‘‘Ah, I found it,’‘ Krasimira spoke up. Because I'm me, it was at that moment I finally realized that someone had put me in my biking shorts in an effort to provide me a modicum of modesty, with the benefit of blood being smeared on the inside. ‘‘She abandoned the Host, she was put under a death sentence for killing her twin sister who was chosen to lead House Anat over her.’‘

‘‘Anat?’‘ I queried.

‘‘The other dead First House,’‘ Krasimira sighed. ‘‘They were renowned for their berserkers. Some would drape themselves in the entrails of their enemies in the midst of battle to increase their ferocious appearance.’‘

‘‘Oh, how sweet, what was Ishara known for?’‘ I was surprised I'd never asked.

‘‘Ishara were the emissaries of the Host,’‘ Krasimira informed me. With the Amazon practice of killing embassies sent their way, the extinction of my house made much more sense.

‘‘What does this mean?’‘ Desiree took charge of matters since Katrina was still busy on the phone. In a few short weeks, Desiree's prestige had definitely increased. Katrina was her sister in more than name now.

‘‘Where to begin,  Fine, why don't we refer to the Mycenaeans by their proper Amazon name?’‘ Everyone but Buffy was glancing about nervously.

‘‘You used the name, didn't you?’‘ Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose, dreading the response.

‘‘Yes, ‘‘ I answered.

‘‘Because no one warns him of shit,’‘ Pamela huffed. ‘‘You assume an Amazon education with no basis in reality. You act like he grew up with our fairy tales and phantasmal histories. Everyone in this room, but Buffy,’‘ she acknowledge my First, ‘‘knew he spoke our language and the accompanying risk. Still, no one warned him.’‘

‘‘You didn't warn him,’‘ Desiree skewered Pamela with a glance.

‘‘Not my job, Buttons,’‘ Pamela chuckled. ‘‘I relish the rest of you being made to look like idiots too much to be useful to Cáel unless it really matters. So he invoked an ancient malediction. What is the worst that could happen?’‘

‘‘I'm going to make a huge deductive leap, am I the reason the Achaean hero Ajax and his boys are back from the dead and coming after us for some Ako-level vengeance?’‘ I groaned. (That's the 47 Ronin for us Westerners) Silence.

‘‘That's not your fault, Sport,’‘ Pamela snorted. ‘‘Mano-man, was I a dumbass for doing nothing. I'll take the blame for that one ladies. Damn Cáel, you would have to pick the Unconquered One, wouldn't you?’‘

‘‘Who is this guy and why does he hate us?’‘ Buffy interjected. Pause.

‘‘Our ancestors poisoned his wine so that, in his angry haze, he mistook his own men for his enemies and slaughtered them all, back during the Trojan War. Afterwards, he committed suicide in anguish over his crime, Death opened his eyes at the last, he saw our treachery and managed to curse us as he died,’‘ Krasimira informed the lot of us.

‘‘And my using that word brought him back? That sounds, weak,’‘ I grunted.

‘‘The word would not have been enough,’‘ Tadêfi comforted me. ‘‘There must have been some sort of rift in the curtain of Reality that allowed the others to slip through. I don't understand how, oh no,’‘ she gasped as the pieces came together.

‘‘I'm willing to believe that was the price of doing business,’‘ I petted Tadêfi's cheek.

‘‘Please enlighten us,’‘ Elsa grumbled.

‘‘I need to find the Earth  and  Sky ambassador and set up a new meeting. Using what Tadêfi has gifted me with and the sacrifice of her fellow augurs, I can secure an alliance for us if only I can make up for the whole stunt Troika played,’‘ I grinned. ‘‘Any ideas?’‘

‘‘We could call them,’‘ Pamela produced my phone. ‘‘Seems some lady named Hana Sulkanen has been trying for days to get in touch with you. She hunted down the owner of the necklace, they talked about your current physical state, courtesy of Odette, and the owner of the necklace has expressed a continued interest in meeting you, and only you. It would appear that they really don't trust the rest of our merry little band since your first disappearance.’‘

Hana, and here I had killed her step-brother, the one she despised. An unexpected benefit of civil discourse, my People's chance of survival had doubled. Pamela lobbed my phone and I caught it.

‘‘What of the other two?’‘ Tadêfi pushed down on my euphoria. ‘‘Was the Foe dead as well?’‘

A quick look at Pamela told me she knew the answer to that.

‘‘The Foe is complicated,’‘ I lied. ‘‘His return was an inevitability, so we count that as a draw. The Champion, bad news. Let's put Shammy in the 'maybe' column and the Conqueror is a win for our side.’‘

A Berserker Queen, fresh from the Underworld, who we were honor-bound to kill,  or the 'other lost heir to a dead House' that was going to make us cobble together some nonsense to bring her back into the fold. If I wasn't the male leader of a spiritually significant All-Girls social club/paramilitary outfit, I might have been daunted by my prospects of achieving the latter.

‘‘The thing going on inside your head?’‘ Elsa asked. That explained her presence. My mental capacity was still suspect. Was I still me? Could I flip out with no warning?

‘‘It is still there. I still have no idea what happened to me, or what the results might be. This means I'm going into battle wounded and that's that,’‘ I stated.

‘‘Are you acting in the best interest of the Host,’‘ Elsa studied me.

‘‘I am not sure,’‘ I confessed after half a minute's introspection. ‘‘So many of you are fuck-nuts; I'm not sure what acting responsible is for this set,’‘ I added jokingly. ‘‘As it stand, you lack the authority to pass judgment on me, Elsa. I promise you that if I feel I'm losing control, I will turn myself in.’‘

‘‘Saint Marie would feel better if you stayed here,’‘ Elsa insisted.

‘‘Is the SD declaring war on House Ishara?’‘ Buffy rose to the challenge. ‘‘We (by that she meant my fellow Isharans) have discussed the matter and talked to our best neuroscientist. She cannot definitively tell us Cáel isn't Cáel, so there is no reason to constrain him.’‘

Whoa. In our best prospect's educated opinion I was not-not me. Legions of English teachers weren't going to like that.

‘‘I have the answer for that,’‘ Katrina spoke up. ‘‘I owe Cáel and I would pay that debt now. He expressed a desire to see my niece, Aya. Do you still wish that Cáel Ishara?’‘

‘‘More than ever, but the Council is meeting,’‘ I sighed.

‘‘Buffy is your (dead word spoken), your apprentice,’‘ Katrina suggested. ‘‘Appoint someone to stand with her.’‘

That was more than good advice. Buffy was a woman and, to those who knew of her, as fierce an Amazon as ever lived. That was what Katrina was telling me without telling me.

‘‘I choose Daphne Pile, if she will accept, to stand by Buffy's side,’‘ I announced. Buffy would need someone who was passionate for my cause and who spoke Old Kingdom Hittite.

Buffy still didn't, and the chance of the Council speaking English on her behalf was non-existent.

‘‘That is Daphne of House Cotyttia,’‘ Pamela corrected me.

Who Cotyttia was? I had no idea. I was stupid to think Daphne's actual Amazon surname was Pile. Daphne wasn't even around. Executive Services was functioning fine without me and that meant Daphne had a work queue.

‘‘The Thracian Goddess of Sex, Orgies, War and Slaughter,’‘ Krasimira gracefully filled in my ignorance.

Another whoa, why wasn't she my matron goddess? Tadêfi hauled off and slapped me. The action seemed to take everyone, Tadêfi included, by surprise.

‘‘I don't know why I did that,’‘ Tadêfi wailed out in despair. I did. It didn't take telepathy to figure out what I had been thinking. To prove my point, Pamela laughed. I cupped Tadêfi's jaw.

‘‘Worry not,’‘ I cooed. ‘‘I had that coming, Dot Ishara,’‘ I dodged another one, ‘‘isn't happy with me right now.’‘ Recall, Tadêfi was hooked up to an old-fashioned party line with the Beyond.

‘‘Animaniacs,’‘ Pamela snorted. ‘‘I so love you. It is my deep and abiding pleasure to have you as my Grandson.’‘

‘‘I'm not your grandson,’‘ I countered.

‘‘Well, I say you are. Now be quiet and accept the shame,’‘ Pamela's eyes danced with amusement.

‘‘That makes me, Daphne and Brielle incest,’‘ I pointed out.

‘‘Amazons don't have an incest taboo,’‘ Pamela retorted. Duh. They are all women, no chance of seven fingered, Cyclops babies.

‘‘Ah, women, misunderstanding and pain, Buffy, would you check out Quebec and see if I'm still wanted in that province for bestiality. It could be important later,’‘ I commanded.

‘‘Bestiality?’‘ only one woman failed to mutter, sputter or exclaimed.

‘‘The complainant in question is not that pissed at you anymore,’‘ Katrina's rolodex mind kicked in. ‘‘I believe she expressed a desire to question you about some missing accoutrements though.’‘

My splitting headache meant I had to think about that, ah yes, her dress uniform. It was/had been Canada Day, thus her having an official function and thus me cheating with the girl from across the hall in the Mountie's bed. I'm an idiot alright and my ability to keep an eye on the clock needs improvement.

My last image of her, frothing at the mouth (she was a tad more possessive than I had anticipated) as she screamed out insults in Quebecois French concerning my lineage, personality failings and the treasured parts of my anatomy. She punctuated various parts of that deranged episode by hurling articles of her clothing over the border at me as I turned (once I had good Ole US soil/pavement under my feet) and tried to get us back together.

Yes, I had them, just not in my Box of Failed Romances. Acting on hopes of reconciliation, I had the uniform dry cleaned, placed in a dress bag, and the boots polished; both currently occupying space in my closet. At least the Alburgh-Noyan Crossing guards (it is a dual Canadian-American post) appreciated me evading/begging forgiveness long enough for them to see her in only her bra and panties.

I imagine they didn't normally get much excitement there.

‘‘Katrina, ‘‘ I began.

‘‘Yes, Maya forgives you too, though she scored an 'At Risk' for reliability. Anais sounded genuine,’‘ Katrina related. Anais was the Mountie. Maya was the Guyane Française university student from across the hall, the one I was caught cheating with. I had told her I was Anais's brother. Maya was also a super-exceptional cook.

‘‘Cáel Ishara, who are these women we are talking about?’‘ Sikia demanded. 'We', that didn't take long. We were now a 'we', which in Amazon meant 'male, you're my property'.

‘‘I have a sideline job as an Amway distributor,’‘ I replied. ‘‘I give crappy customer service.’‘

‘‘You give awesome customer service,’‘ Katrina riposted. ‘‘That's the problem.’‘

‘‘Sikia, you are not the first Amazon Cáel has stuck his dick into. You are probably not the tenth,’‘ Elsa dripped with frustration. Quick count: Rhada, Buffy, Oneida and Gael, I was only going to count the penile-vaginal penetrations.

‘‘They are only numbers five and six, thank you very much,’‘ I defended myself.

‘‘So much for your 'intern, no sex' policy,’‘ Desiree muttered.

‘‘Cut me some slack, I work with stone-cold, Olympic level athlete foxes 24/7,’‘ I griped. ‘‘I am a sexual being too, I have needs.’‘

‘‘What about the 'End of Internship' hunting shindig?’‘ Desiree pulled a flawless 'Katrina'.

‘‘Oh, it is still on. With my 'do or die' learning curve, it is going to be so much more fun,’‘ I grinned. ‘‘And, okay, no more Amazon sex until then, sorry Rachel.’‘

‘‘Except for house members,’‘ Buffy insisted.

‘‘No exceptions,’‘ Elsa demanded.

‘‘I'll keep an eye on him,’‘ Pamela resolved the issue. ‘‘No more Amazon boinking for him.’‘ She was such a liar. She was also a highly accomplished liar because everyone bought it. On with my life. Stage one: exit Katrina's office. Done deal, no problems. Stage two: set up meeting with the Earth  and  Sky.

They wanted to meet on their ground. Since I was the uncertain factor in these negotiations, I agreed. I was bringing one, Pamela raised four fingers, four people with me. Who? Outside of Pamela, I had no idea. Stage three: going to medical and putting on my business suit, it was a new one and very, very nice. I was moving up into serious majestic magnate territory.

I also picked up buddy number two, FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox. Why had I chosen a federal agent to accompany me to a meeting between two secret societies? I hadn't a clue. Sometimes you have to roll with these things. In the lobby, I picked up number three, Delilah, Mom's MI-6 operative/baby-sitter.

Compassionate, caring people were surrounding me all the time. It gave me this sensation of a 'down home' environment no matter where I went, if down home was Gaza, or Donetsk. I think my entourage/lifestyle observation teams had grown to encompass six cars. I was in no condition for riding my bike, so that recourse was denied me.

Taxi? One, most were hard-working stiffs like my family who didn't deserve to be caught in a noontime, drive-by assassination attempt.

Besides, with my luck I'd meet the guy from Qatar again, the one with the sister with cute eyes. That reminded me, I gave Nicole a call.

‘‘How are you doing?’‘ she quickly inquired.

‘‘Good,’‘ I lied to a past master of shattering perjury. Pause. ‘‘I'm surrounded by girls with guns, tailed by your clients, some part of a Federal Task force and some people who I don't know yet. Hold on.’‘ I put my hand over my phone.

‘‘Delilah, are you packing heat?’‘ I asked softly.

She opened her jacket revealing paired revolvers in shoulder holsters. I didn't recognize them so the Brit gave me the 4-1-1.

‘‘Ruger Alaskans,’‘ she grinned. Bing! Now I recalled them. The girl who taught me to shoot once read some reviews of that beast on her laptop while I gave her a slow, passionate screw from behind. She became all hot and bothered, wiggling, squirming and generally having a grandiose time with my cock deep within.

I repeat, this girl really loved guns, a huge cerebral G-spot for her. Oh yeah, the Ruger Alaskan is what you get if you are worried about Grizzly bears popping their heads through the tent flaps late at night. Delilah was probably packing 4 80's. Her guns would turn 250 kilograms of pissed off ursine into an excellent throw-rug in about two shots.

In an urban environment,  well, maybe she thought the New York Giants were actually giants, or something like that. Two were overkill, unless you expected someone needing to borrow one.

‘‘Just checked. I remain the only one unarmed in my personal carnival of carnage, ‘‘ my words trailed up to an unintelligible mumble.

I was mumbling because suddenly four handguns were casually offered up for my use (Tiger Lily was holding one over her shoulder as she drove), in the same way you'd offer up some Nicorette to a man jonesing for a smoke. Rachel was kind enough to hand me my familiar Glock-22 and Ruger 38 caliber with their accompanying holsters. Two spare clips followed, then I stashed the lot. I scratched my calf. It took me a second to realize I was reaching for my pistol.

No, not the one at my hip, or my ankle, but the one, in my boot?

‘‘Now that you've been handed firearms of dubious origin, can I get back to questioning you,’‘ the FBI agent intruded upon my ruminations. ‘‘We were discussing that list of people that are visiting a morgue instead of a court room. What can you tell me?’‘

‘‘Bye Nicole. Miss you. Being interrogated by a blonde FBI lady with a whips scar on her eyebrow and eyes that could scare a badger back into its hole. Later,’‘ I cut of my lawyer's fierce demand that I keep my mouth shut. ‘‘Nothing useful that wouldn't implicate myself and others in a criminal conspiracy,’‘ I answered her.

‘‘There is no way I'd name anyone else I suspect of involvement. I feel no guilt over what has happened, so no remorseful confession, and that is based on my belief that cosmic justice has been achieved.’‘

‘‘You can't create lists of people for execution,’‘ Maddox persisted. ‘‘That negates the whole justice system and the principle of innocent until proven guilty.’‘

Wow! Except for the two of us, every other person in the car snorted their derision of Maddox's presumptive naiveté.

‘‘Do you even believe the tripe spilling from your pie-hole?’‘ Delilah mocked Maddox.

‘‘I'm in law enforcement. That means I enforce the laws, not interpret them, or choose which ones I want to obey and which ones to ignore,’‘ Virginia fought back.

‘‘Love, that's crap and you know it. You are an agent of the US government. You bomb, drone-strike, overthrow lawfully elected governments and assassinate in your nation's best interests,’‘ Delilah countered. ‘‘You selectively enforce your Constitution when it suits you.’‘

‘‘I'm law enforcement, not the military or foreign affairs. Know the difference,’‘ Maddox glared.

‘‘The pay master is the same,  you willingly collect your thirty pieces of silver; get off your high horse because you are in the shat now, Agent Maddox. I haven't known this crowd an hour and I know for a fact that you are the only US citizen onboard,’‘ Delilah chortled. ‘‘I don't know their bleeding nationality, but I doubt it is on the UN Charter.’‘ Maddox turned to me.

‘‘That was succinct and rather accurate,’‘ I murmured. ‘‘Special Agent Maddox, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are with us because FP (federal prosecutor) Castello feels you can handle this, Umm, unusual set of circumstance. I promise you this, it is going to get worse.’‘

‘‘Why don't we test this quaint theory?’‘ FBI Lass challenged us.

‘‘Jail, bail, and I'm waking up in Rio de Janeiro in two days,’‘ I sighed. ‘‘I have a few thousand in the bank, live in a hole and own my father's home, when it clears probate. Only you know I'm flight risk. A dozen people will vouch/lie about my character and that's that. All you've succeeding in doing is making enemies when you need friends.’‘

‘‘There is still a matter of multiple people dead under suspicious circumstance,’‘ she said.

‘‘Imagine for a second that Cáel admits to creating a hit list,’‘ Pamela began. ‘‘He would never give up the names of the other people involved. He didn't kill anyone, or say 'kill them'. Now what? You still have an abysmal case to put before a judge. Add to that, the mitigating factor of a raped girl.

You get to break her down until she's a cooperating witness because she's the only one who can provide you with Cáel's motive,’‘ my mentor continued. ‘‘Good for you and your team. She gets to betray the man who tried to save her. Cáel promised horrific retribution if any of those in the now-dead crowd hurt her. That is rather unlike him, he normally forgives when given the least excuse.

I don't give a damn about women's rights, or the rights of rape victims. I really could give a shit about human rights for that matter. Wronging me is the surest way to early retirement. It is not a matter of strong versus weak, or right versus wrong. What matters to me is who I can trust. I don't know you, thus I don't trust you. I trust your government to be so much chicken shit.

I base this on the lack of public torture and execution. I want the families of dying criminals paraded in front of those cock-suckers before the condemned finally perish in agony. I want to see thieves get their forearms hacked off, trial by combat, and respect for your elders. I want to see public officials being sacrificed upon the altar of Jehovah when they leave office.

I want to see a system of justice with a soul, not law books thicker than an aircraft carrier's hull. A government 'of the People, by the People, for the People' should be the sole guiding force for your culture and we both know that's never going to happen. I admire your soldiers; not because they are brave and combat effective, they are.

I admire them because they are fighting and dying for elected officials and a population that can't locate Afghanistan, or Iraq on a map, can't tell the difference between a Sikh and a Muslim, and thinks 'Pashtun' is an exotic piece of furniture. I admire them because they are better human beings despite you, not because of you,’‘ Pamela was coming to her crescendo.

‘‘Basically you people, by that I mean most of the human race, are dangerous in your idiocy, arrogance and pride in your ignorance. Not one of you should be allowed to use weapons, or play with fire. For you, unrestricted voting is a crime right up there with inventing, disease prevention, bilingualism and anything that perpetuates your educational system.’‘

‘‘Lady, why are you so angry with the world?’‘ Maddox studied Pamela intensely. I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind.

‘‘I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time,’‘ Pamela grinned. ‘‘Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity.

You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home,’‘ she finished. ‘‘It is the perfect weapon.’‘

‘‘Liar,’‘ I smiled. ‘‘You like high performance automobiles too.’‘ Did she? I didn't know.

‘‘Only with a 2X4 pressing the accelerator as it races toward the lip of a canyon,’‘ Pamela bantered back, ‘‘with Ursula K. Le Guin strapped in the back seat.’‘

‘‘Who?’‘ I inquired.

‘‘She's an author. I take exception to some of her work and unwillingness to appreciate the fusion of exceptional feminine characteristics with power positions,’‘ Pamela answered.

‘‘And your critique of her life's work is an exploding car at the bottom of a cliff?’‘ I smiled.

‘‘Starting uncontrolled wildfires and littering, two of my favorite activities,’‘ she laughed.

‘‘I'll stick with blondes and brunettes, and red- and raven-haired, bald has its own appeal, green and purple have their own kink going on, ‘‘ I joked.

‘‘Wait! We were talking about people being murdered and you two are cracking jokes?’‘ Maddox rumbled.

‘‘I had a dream about tying them together with nylon cord and tossing them off the back ramp of a transport aircraft, and watching them fall, and fall,’‘ Rachel sighed dreamily.

‘‘Atta girl,’‘ I play-punched Rachel's shoulder.

‘‘What is your part in all of this?’‘ Maddox turned to Rachel.

‘‘I'm the head of his bodyguard detail,’‘ Rachel gave her confession of the damned.

‘‘And you want to kill him, ‘‘ Virginia struggled to keep up.

‘‘Given time, you will too,’‘ Rachel promised. ‘‘According to his pre-employment records, only one woman he's had a sexual relationship with hasn't wanted to at least hurt him,’‘ glaring at me, ‘‘badly.’‘

‘‘The nun doesn't want me dead!’‘ I vocally protested.

‘‘It is so wrong that you are proud that of over 200 women you've slept with, TWO have not, at some point in knowing you, wanted to maul you and one of those is in the 'forgiving' business,’‘ Rachel chastised me. Virginia had an answer for my madness. Her phone came out and she hit speed-dial, work.

‘‘Ms. Castello, this is Special Agent Maddox, do you have a moment?’‘ Virginia calmly asked when she finally wrangled my current-favorite fed's attention. ‘‘You do now? Thank you. I'd like to know what the fuck have you done to me? This assignment is nuts. Either I'm part of some elaborate prank, or I'm in an S U V with escapees from the looney bin.’‘ Ten seconds later Maddox gave me the phone.

‘‘Stop it. I've upheld my end of the bargain, so behave,’‘ Javiera ordered. Man, she'd shot me straight to the core and we hadn't even slept together yet. Clever, clever girl.

‘‘Yes Ma'am,’‘ I swore. ‘‘I'll do my best to buffer Special Agent Maddox from the truth.’‘

‘‘I'll have to accept that,’‘ Javiera conceded. ‘‘Give Maddox the phone back.’‘

A brief conversation later and Maddox was no better off than when she started. Thankfully we parked in front of the Kazakhstan Consulate in New York, giving us all an excuse to face facts. Maddox was feeling compelled to ask questions she didn't want the answers to, and that we didn't want to answer. Saved by work.

‘‘Kazakhstan Consulate? Why are we here?’‘ both Virginia and Rachel asked.

‘‘Oh! This is going to be good,’‘ Pamela leaned forward excitedly.

‘‘Change the course of human history,’‘ I answered with a great deal of confidence I didn't feel. See, I had knowledge critical to the Earth  and  Sky.

That knowledge was also something they wanted kept compartmentalized, so they might take exception to it being possessed by an outsider. Oh,  so that's why Pamela earlier insisted on four ladies being with me, so we could shoot our way out if things turned ugly. I hugged my mentor.

‘‘Thank you, Pamela.’‘

‘‘You are coming along nicely, Mr. Potter,’‘ Pamela patted my cheek.

‘‘Your praise leaves me suspicious, Professor Snape. Besides, if I'm going to die, it helps me to know you'll go first .’‘

‘‘That was uncalled for,’‘ Pamela chided me. It was the 'Snape' role she rejected.

‘‘Snape gave up his life for Harry, Dumbledore died for Draco,’‘ I countered.

‘‘Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that,’‘ Pamela shone with joy and pride.

‘‘You act like I have a choice,’‘ I sighed.

‘‘Touché,’‘ Pamela nodded.

‘‘I see what you mean about these two,’‘ Maddox addressed Rachel.

‘‘Oh my God,’‘ Delilah laughed. ‘‘You wove Harry Potter into a life and death conversation and it made sense. I am probably going to die, but I'll die knowing I have lived.’‘

‘‘Not you too?’‘ Maddox glared at Delilah. Rachel just shook her head. We exited the car, settled ourselves out. Rachel took point, Delilah took one flank while Pamela took the other.

By happenstance, I ended up in the middle, yeah right, with Virginia covering my back.

‘‘You stay here,’‘ Pamela put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. ‘‘You'll need to lead the team in if someone 'pumps up the volume'.’‘ Interesting euphemism for 'when people start killing people'.

‘‘What are we doing today?’‘ Miyako 'appeared'. She'd been walking down the sidewalk toward us, the Kazak Consulate was a townhouse, but her presence hadn't registered.

‘‘I require your pledge of silence on what is to transpire. No death is intended,’‘ I stated calmly to Miyako.

‘‘I didn't know you were versed in ninja contracts, much less spoke Japanese?’‘ Miyako responded. Blink.

‘‘I didn't know I spoke it either, ‘‘ I mumbled.

‘‘No sweat,’‘ Pamela tried to hustle us along. ‘‘He's a quick study.’‘ Yeah. I didn't feel it apropos to point out I hadn't heard myself speaking Japanese, or understood that my words had some secret meaning.

‘‘How important is this to my people?’‘ Miyako asked. Now that I was paying attention to it, I could make out that she was speaking in her native tongue.

‘‘If they don't think we can be trusted to not speak of what is to transpire for a week, they are going to kill us,’‘ I related my suspicions. ‘‘My mind and heart are joined in this decision.’‘

‘‘I give you my pledge,’‘ Miyako nodded. She looped her arm in mine.

‘‘Does anyone care to enlighten me?’‘ Maddox prodded. Whoa. It seemed that, beside me and Miyako, only Pamela spoke Japanese.

‘‘Special Agent Maddox, no matter what, don't give up your gun, when we say run, run, and shoot to kill because they will be trying to kill us,’‘ I informed her.

‘‘Does the term 'extraterritoriality' mean anything to anyone here?’‘ Maddox snapped. Her nervousness was totally understandable.

I stopped at the top of the steps, looking over my shoulder. I nodded. Pamela, Delilah and Miyako nodded as well.

‘‘Hold on, I can't believe I'm saying this. Does anyone have a back-up I can use?’‘ Maddox groaned.

Rachel quick-stepped forward and handed over a 22 automatic pistol then a spare clip with a smooth, practiced motion that suggested that SD swapped weapons all the time. Maddox didn't miss the casualness of the gesture. The firearm and magazine disappeared.

‘‘Fine, we will never discuss the laws we just butchered, ever, and if I die and any of you make it out alive, I will seek revenge at whatever cost FROM WHEREVER I AM,’‘ FBI girl growled.

‘‘One of us,’‘ Pamela smirked at me as I touched the doorbell. It opened promptly. We weren't on a crowded street, we were on their stoop and a security camera was pointed right at us. We were invited in and two rather Caucasian-looking gentlemen (Kazaks are a mixed bag of Turks and Cumans) were waiting with the doorman. They looked tough in that they took personality lessons from saddle leather.

‘‘You will place your weapons there,’‘ the more charismatic of the two spoke up. He was pointing to a side table that looked large enough for the task.

‘‘No,’‘ was the most courteous response I could muster. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look much like he was breathing, or blinking either.

‘‘Go,’‘ he pointed to the door. I looked to Pamela.

‘‘Well, that didn't take long,’‘ I grinned. I felt out the necklace under my shirt and pulled it over my head. ‘‘Please return this to its owner in the spirit it was given.’‘ He took it. The doorman opened the door and out we went. Rachel was back in our GL550, using the door as possible cover. She said we could take our seats and away we rolled. Maddox looked apoplectic.

She had prepared herself for the Wild, Wild West, not a doe-see-doe at the door. In her mind, I had wound her up for nothing. My phone rang.

‘‘Cáel Ishara, there seems to have been a diplomatic miscommunication,’‘ a male native Turkish-speaker said in heavily accented English. ‘‘The person you are meeting must be approached in the spirit of peace.’‘

‘‘No, I understood you perfectly,’‘ I assured him. ‘‘We aren't the Brownies, or the Girl Scouts, Buddy. I don't know, or trust you and you don't know, or trust me, yet. I will compromise though. I will respect your traditions. I will enter your home unarmed. In turn, everyone in the building will line up outside on the street except for the person I'm supposed to meet. Is that acceptable?’‘

Pause.

‘‘Do you hate these people, or like them?’‘ Maddox grumbled. ‘‘With you, I can't quite tell.’‘

‘‘That would not be acceptable,’‘ the man finally responded. ‘‘Perhaps an alternative. You come in, alone yet armed.’‘

‘‘Nope. Due to the efforts of people far smarter than me, I know pretty much who I am meeting, so I am either very rude, insane, or bear a message that is worth my life,’‘ I countered.

‘‘Your personal safety is guaranteed,’‘ was the counter-offer.

‘‘That is a false promise, not because you lack honor, or respect for me, but because you are from a wise and noble lineage with a historical propensity of cutting to the heart of any problem.’‘

By that, I meant they'd cut my heart out. ‘‘What I expect is for every one of you to hold the future of the Earth  and  Sky above any such concepts as personal promises, hospitality, and honor. I am even putting my faith in your willingness to put the survival of the Earth  and  Sky over your own well-being,’‘ I riposted.

‘‘If the message is so crucial, you should be willing to come alone,’‘ back at me.

‘‘It isn't important to me,’‘ I stated. ‘‘Listen, a war is about to break out. Unless we both want to be found all alone in the outhouse masturbating when the headsman comes, one of us has to blink. Today, it is you. Tomorrow you may be able to return the favor and mess with my head.’‘

Pause.

‘‘Your koumiss is getting warm.’‘

‘‘We'll be right there. We apologize for the delay. Traffic is murder these days, or a close facsimile thereof,’‘ I gave a little back in the humility department.

‘‘Tiger Lily, ‘‘

‘‘On it, Ishara, Wakko Ishara. I've been circling the block,’‘ Tiger Lily had anticipated my antics. Sure, I acted like I had no game plan, but I never wasted people's time. Maybe if I developed an actual game plan I could do even better.

‘‘Wakko Ishara?’‘ it was Delilah's and Maddox's turn to share a 'what the?' moment.

‘‘May I explain the sacred names?’‘ Rachel requested of me. ‘‘I have a feeling these two might become a fixture.’‘

‘‘By all means, Rachel. Our trust runs deep,’‘ I trusted Rachel with more than my life; I trusted her with my future.

‘‘Wakko, as in you're the nutty one?’‘ Delilah made a stab at our arcane nomenclature. If you use small words does that make it gnomenclature? Pamela winked at me, psychic twin grandmother powers activate!

‘‘We need complementary rings,’‘ Pamela remarked. Sweet!

‘‘Cáel Ishara is differentiated as Wakko Ishara, Ishara, first of House Ishara, is Yakko Ishara, and, ‘‘ Rachel began.

‘‘The Animaniacs? Your code names are the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot?’‘ Maddox gasped. ‘‘You are beyond nuts.’‘

‘‘And the Goddess Ishara is named, by House Ishara and House Ishara alone,’‘ Rachel made some warding appeal against divine punishment, ‘‘as Dot Ishara.’‘ Maddox's face shown with disbelief.

‘‘Following Cáel Ishara into battle has been one of my greatest pleasures,’‘ Rachel stared at Maddox. ‘‘I never knew insanity could be so liberating, or that laughing at death could be such an aphrodisiac.’‘

‘‘When did you two go into battle?’‘ Delilah wondered.

‘‘In a morgue, fighting to retrieve the body of his fallen father so that our enemies could not desecrate it,’‘ Rachel explained. Ah, the walls of Troy, fighting over the spoils of the dead.

‘‘You mean when I face-planted?’‘ I grinned at Rachel.

‘‘Even without a weapon, your instincts were good, forcing our enemy to commit to multiple angles of coverage even though your efforts were foiled by a footing failure. Your rushing their leader was even more heroic in that you were unarmed and using your body as a decoy, knowing your enemy's superior skill would stop him from shooting you,’‘ Rachel smiled my way, sex.

‘‘Let me get this straight,’‘ Miyako finally spoke up. ‘‘You charged an enemy unarmed then stumbled and failed. They were armed?’‘

‘‘Yes, with a 3 57 Magnum revolver and a 10 gauge sawed-off automatic shotgun, in tight confines and close range, oh, and no cover.’‘ Maddox replied, then to me, ‘‘I read the report.’‘

‘‘Then you repeated the action a few minutes,’‘ Miyako.

‘‘Less than a minute later,’‘ Maddox clarified.

‘‘A minute later, wow! You are as fearless as we've heard. Please don't die before we have a baby,’‘ Miyako gave me a quick hug. If you cover a zeppelin with uranium paint, can it still fly, or does it sink to the center of the Earth? Ninja babies,

We had returned to the stairs at the Consulate. This time the door swung open upon our approach.

‘‘Is there some drug you are all taking to bask in this shared fantasy life?’‘ Maddox mumbled.

‘‘One of us,’‘ Pamela retorted. ‘‘One of us.’‘

‘‘One of us,’‘ I joined in. It helped cut the tension.

The bodyguards were present right where we'd them last time. They ushered us up the stairs to a second floor sitting room that ate up half the floor. There were two men there; radiating that subtle assurance that a half-dozen killers were close by. The man standing was Iskender, the E and S emissary from Dad's funeral. I broke all decorum, strode to the man, locked arms, hugged him tight and patted him on the back.

‘‘Thank the spirits you are here,’‘ I whispered, ‘‘all this lack of dick is making me a bit stir-crazy.’‘

‘‘Ah, yes, it is good to see you again too,’‘ Iskender imparted as we broke our embrace. His boss, the guy on the sofa, shot me and my Kyrgyz buddy a sharp look. The Main Man was clearly Mongolian and must have thought blank, white walls exhibited too much empathy.

‘‘Koumiss,’‘ the boss offered.

I sipped it from a simple, yet regal drinking mug that probably hit the kiln 200 years ago.

‘‘Mare, or yak?’‘ I inquired as I handed the cup around. Iskender came first, but it was clearly my intention that we all partake. It was more a matter of the host's pledge of sanctuary than me wanting to share the koumiss. It tasted like thin, lightly chilled, bitter beer with a vanilla-almond milk shake-chaser.

‘‘Mare, of course. Please sit,’‘ he offered. He defined the suggestion by slipping off the sofa onto the layered carpet rug. He was semi-reclined, so we followed suit.

‘‘We should pray for the protection of the spirits,’‘ was the suggestion that wasn't a suggestion. It was his itinerary.

He clapped his hands and from beyond a curtained partition came this really sensual Mongolian chick carrying a large brass bowl. She flicked her eyes at me and an instant connection was formed. She liked to bark like a dog under the full moon, okay, I'm not sure where that came from.

‘‘Nice woman,’‘ I told the leader. ‘‘She looks like she has seen many winters.’‘

Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I got a shocked reaction from Iskender.

The Leader looked pissed, if a flake of paint on the white wall indicated anger. The girl blushed like what I said was an incredible turn on.

‘‘She is my daughter,’‘ the Leader pointed out. Way past swallowing my foot. My ankle was tasty.

‘‘My name is Oyuun Tömörbaatar. My faithful Iskender, you know. This is my daughter T. Sarangerel. She is studying at N Y U and is not entertaining marriage proposals at this time,’‘ he slapped down his boundaries.

Somehow 'I only want to sleep with her' didn't sound like the right response. Wait! Saying his 'daughter had many winters' was a marriage bargaining opening move. What the fuck!

‘‘What I meant was that surely many men have died trying to come before you,’‘ I back-pedaled. More happy looks from the daughter. More paint peeling from the dad.

Pamela made sure more koumiss was going around. Getting drunk could hardly hurt at this juncture. Sarangeral placed the bowl between us. It was filled with clear, cold water undoubtedly collected from a mountain-fed glacier.

‘‘Let us cleanse our hands in the water so that we may speak with clarity,’‘ O. Tömörbaatar said. We dipped our fingers and, for a second, I saw him. Not 'O', but HIM.

‘‘It is good to finally meet you Ferko Ishara Cáel Nyilas,’‘ the man said. My Spidey senses told me he was feeling less 'good' about this meeting every second. ‘‘How can your people and mine better get along?’‘ 'Let me impregnate your daughter', would probably get my skull split open.

‘‘No time for that,’‘ I replied. ‘‘I know where HE is. The Seven Pillars have found a way to search the Weave and are closing in. You must act with haste.’‘ Whether it was disbelief, or old schooled Ku Chun in the art of gambling, the older man gave no outward reaction.

‘‘Where is he?’‘ O. Tömörbaatar asked in a gentle tone.

‘‘I can do you one better,’‘ I steeled myself for the unknown forces I was invoking. I put my hands on the bowl's lip and looked in. Several seconds later, he did as well. For a moment, nothing. It was like a ripple in reverse. The first earth tremor I barely noticed. The ripples grew and grew until I felt the whole row of townhouses would come crashing down.

Wind snapped the locks on the windows, flinging them wide open and tearing at the curtains like streamers in a hurricane. Then we saw HIM clearly. HE stopped driving this old, beat-up Peugeot and was pulling to the side of a desolate stretch of highway. HE could sense something yet couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. We definitely got the impression this wasn't his first taste of this experience, the Seven Pillars.

He was young, maybe my age. He looked like an educated man turned vagabond/boundless traveler. HIS eyes, his eyes had a depth that were a microcosm of what I'd glimpsed in Ishara, Dot Ishara's unshielded glance when we first met. All lingering doubts vanished in my mind.

‘‘I know that place,’‘ O T muttered, his eyes fixated on the only feature in the vacant expanse, a road sign, in Chinese. Yikes. ‘‘I know that place.’‘ The image faded.

Our meeting venue was intact. Whatever I felt transpire, I had shared with O. Tömörbaatar alone.

‘‘You have work to do,’‘ I stated as I cleared my throat. ‘‘I will leave you to it.’‘ I stood.

‘‘What do you wish for this gift?’‘ O T reached out and touched my sleeve.

‘‘When the time comes, maybe you can help us,’‘ I replied.

‘‘A man who asks for nothing can expect anything,’‘ O T smiled for the first time. ‘‘Go.’‘ I did not take a fear-free breath until the cars started up and we pulled away. He'd let us live. Even with that priceless piece of magical insight, he'd let us live.

‘‘I'm still stunned we got out alive,’‘ I sighed. ‘‘I wasn't really sure he'd take the news as well as he did.’‘

No one said anything for a minute.

‘‘Why would he have killed us?’‘ Delilah inquired. ‘‘You, I understand. I don't know what you communicated to that young lady, but the old guy wasn't happy about it. He was going to kill us over that?’‘

Pause.

‘‘What did the rest of you see and hear?’‘ I looked around the cabin. Pamela appeared worried.

‘‘I didn't know you spoke Chagatai,’‘ Miyako smiled at me. ‘‘You are full of surprise. I only caught a word, or two, and none of it made sense.’‘

‘‘MRI,’‘ I groaned.

‘‘Magnetoencephalography,’‘ Pamela said in the same breath. ‘‘Mine is better, Boyo.’‘

‘‘What is going on?’‘ Rachel upped her alertness level.

‘‘We need to take Cáel to a hospital that has a Magnetoencephalography device,’‘ Pamela insisted.

‘‘He's spontaneously speaking languages he didn't know moments earlier, ‘‘ Maddox put things together first. The rest nodded at her assessment. ‘‘We'll need to have his records from Havenstone sent over as a baseline.’‘ Poor Virginia, the absurdity of my life was sucking her in.

‘‘I'll call Katrina,’‘ Rachel informed us.

I was a mental case once more. At least my input was still being solicited.

‘‘How many guns do you have on you?’‘ Pamela zinged me.

The answer was obvious, two. My Glock and my back-up. That didn't seem right.

‘‘Ah, two?’‘ I responded.

‘‘Yeah, something is happening to your muscle memory as well,’‘ Pamela shook her head.

‘‘What exactly does that mean, and what's wrong with Cáel's brain?’‘ Delilah studied the group.

‘‘It means he could spontaneously pull out his gun and start shooting us?’‘ Pamela confessed her uncertainty. ‘‘I don't know. We'd better figure out which impulses are his guiding light right now before that happens.’‘

‘‘I don't even know how to begin reporting this,’‘ Maddox muttered.

‘‘Cheer up. Our Cáel is still currently in charge. Did you appreciate how he lured in that young Mongolian girl? That's classic Cáel,’‘ Pamela comforted the crowd.

I was saved from a straightjacket because I was a 'Playa'.

(Meadowlands Medical Center in far off New Jersey)

I'm not political. For me, that means I am completely and utterly dedicated to whatever doctrine that the cutest political campaigner in front of me endorses. Fifteen minutes on the internet and you can fake it like a pro. Be careful to be with the winning team when the results come in. Nothing makes a political chick go wild like sneaking into the candidate's office and screwing her on the newly elected/re-elected figure's desk.

Let her scream out her idol's name. Odds are neither of you will be welcomed back afterwards anyway. Why politics now? Javiera called some people. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone I knew and trusted got in touch with my 'Aunts' as well. All I knew for sure was the Hospital's Administrator's phone began ringing off the hook and I'd become the hospital's number one priority.

The hospital staff was visibly irritated with the clout raining down on their heads for about an hour. Once they digested my Havenstone records, all of that changed. Holy 'Published in The New England Journal of Medicine', someone had drilled a micro-surgical hole in my skull in the middle of a wrestling match with no resulting cerebral scarring. THEN this unknown device shot into my skull with pinpoint accuracy and pumped a ghastly amount of energy into my cerebrum.

They were fascinated. They were so fascinated I heard two medical technicians mutter about where the Zombie Survival Guide could be found. They triple checked my vital signs, again. I was still as much alive as when I checked myself in. There was a rumor that a fire ax disappeared from a stairwell close by, but not one confessed to the deed.

I was speaking in languages I had no reason to know? They were surprised I could contain my mouth drool. It was somewhat disheartening to hear three seasoned physicians discuss what probable scenarios could explain me still being in a non-vegetative state,  or alive for that matter. Some poor nurse had to ask.

‘‘Do you feel an unnatural, interest in human brains?’‘ she whispered when she though no one was close by.

‘‘I'm not sure what you mean,’‘ I whispered back. ‘‘I always respect a woman's intelligence. Sex is a cerebral passion. What's the point if you can't communicate with your partner?’‘

Pamela slapped me upside my head. That disturbed just about everybody else in the vicinity and my mentor was promptly exiled from the room. I was curious about what havoc she was perpetrating on this establishment. My condition had gotten her past all the heavy security and I knew without seeing that someone high ranking had misplaced their ID badge.

Maybe Pamela was the love-child of Batman and Cat woman. Before you think that's comic fanboy talk, recall what my life was like at that moment. Tests ensued. The staff decided that Havenstone employed a bunch of quacks and snake charmers. Two hours later, they found out they were wrong. Larger battery of tests, same results. I was the second coming of Christ, back from the dead, or a zombie living in a convincing state of denial. Some folks wouldn't let that go.

Pamela had proved to be prophetic. Her pet gizmo finally provided a new picture of what my neural pathways were up to. If there is any doubt, 'I've never seen that before' is not what you want to hear one of North America's experts in the field of neuroscience say. The first educated opinion was that I suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that meant I was hit in the head a lot. Normally that diagnosis comes in the midst of an autopsy.

I was having paralytic seizures. They had me juggle a squeeze-ball, then two and finally three. My perfect performance frustrated them. Women find relatively simple carnival tricks to be seductive. Pluck a card from a girl's bra gets you both to some dark corner, hungrily looking for the rest of the deck, I speak from experience.

Next up at bat: 'I was possessed', I shit you not. Holistic medicine was right on board with the team. Was I influenced by a supernatural power? Yes I was. So claimed the majority of people on Earth. Did I receive specific instructions? Yes, and so did practitioners of Voodoo/Vodun on three continents. I added that I attempted to evade said instructions when I could.

Did I have 'evil' impulses to hurt myself, or others? Huh? For starters, my matron goddess was more of a 'fucker' than a 'fighter' and her instructions were always suitably vague, the same way a Philosophy professor would give you a ten word pointless sentence on Friday and expect you to have a 250 page doctrine on Monday morning.

That hit home. Too many normally smart people take a philosophy class in college hoping for an easy-A. Some teachers love dissolving those delusion, sitting back and watching your hopes and dreams of task-free weekends go down the drain. The more obscure the discipline, the more perverse the desire. That is why you always pick a teacher of the opposite gender (if in doubt, use a gay/lesbian test) and keep 'sex for grades' on the menu.

Was I suffering from optical illusions, or phantom noises? Straight to the point, yes, I saw and talked with ghosts. So did the Long Island Medium, the casts of Ghost Hunters, Paranormal Witness plus George Anderson and Chip Coffey. To my credit, I didn't do it for profit, or in order to influence people.

Was I seeing ghosts now? I was in hospital, so odds weren't bad. I had every non-ghost raise their left hand. No ghosts. Was my paranormal dementia pre- or post-brain trauma? Did seeing a college student being called before his class and successfully accused of plagiarism on his senior thesis, turning him into one of the Restless Dead count? No? My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much.

Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife, to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone.

Had any done so, I would have denied them. Such actions were immoral and I could still freely differentiate between right and wrong. I preferred to commit wrong on my own initiative and making me do good was a chore most sane people abandoned after a few days. I took a Rorschach test. The results were predictable because I had taken old 'R' several times before.

Just like every other time, I'd mixed up sexual innuendo with a psychological test to seduce the test-giver,  everything reminded me of intercourse. I changed it up with this girl. I gave her numbers. Sometime after I was long gone, they were going to figure out the ink blots were numbered after whichever erotic positions from the Kama Sutra I was reminded of at the time. I knew that wasn't being helpful and I was certain I wasn't a brain specialist. I also knew Rorschach wasn't the key to solving my woes.

Final remaining hypothesis, I was utilizing 30 % of my brain capacity with three independent patterns emerging, not the usual 5 %. For that to work, my brain had to be oozing out my ears because brains generate a terrific amount of heat. My temperature was a steady 37.3 C (99 F) and my ear channels were free of obstruction. Hey man, cleaning your ears is quick and easy. Don't risk turning off a date with misfortunately located ear-hair and wax.

How was my brain shedding the heat? Their solution, let's do a Spinal Tap. No way. I'd seen that band and they were all extremely fucked up, even for old guys. I wasn't going down that road. They insisted. I suggested that I consent to the procedure with the condition that I received no pain killers/sedatives of any kind and I got to grab and hold onto the testicles of my two, current, least favorite doctors.

When they realized I was deadly serious and immovable on the issue, they came up with a new plan, no Spinal Tap. Gutless sissies. Into this vacuum of information, a brainstorm emerged (besides my inexplicable one). They would talk to me, no more interrogations, an actual verbal exchange. They couldn't come over and start flapping their gums like some punk rock band with no talent. They were suddenly worried about 'concerning' me and 'agitating my unstable state'.

I pray to Goddess Ishara that one day soon they play back the tapes of their early hours working on me and pay close attention to my facial expressions of shock, horror, fear and depression as they clearly and openly talked about me as if I was the Fiji Mermaid. But hey, a few of them were kinda cute, so in the final analysis all that emotional trauma worked its way out.

Hospital highlights:

(Understand, I was lying on a table while various specialists prodded and talked about me as if I wasn't there. To strike back at reality, I throbbed my penis every time this cute Parasitologist looked at it. Finally )

Female Chief of Neurosurgery: ‘‘Did anyone think to study changes in is body's nervous system?’‘

(Guilty looks all around)

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘What are all these needle marks?’‘

Havenstone Medico, ‘‘Those are muscle stimuli insertion sites. They kept his musculature from atrophying while he was in a coma.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘Let me get this straight. This man had a lightning bolt go off in his head and part of your healthcare regimen was to run a constant current of electricity throughout the rest of his body.’‘

(Scathing looks at the Medico from everyone else, jackals)

HM: ‘‘He has retained excellent muscle tone.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘Have you even taken the Hippocratic Oath?’‘

HM: (offended) ‘‘Of course not, he's Greek.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘What does my patient being Greek have to do with anything?’‘

HM: ‘‘Not him (pointing at me). Hippocrates, he was a Greek. Cáel is Magyar/Irish Gaelic.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘Helpful, that's not. He seems to have a great deal of bruises and scarring, some of it certainly received over an extensive period of time. Is this your work?’‘

HM: (in a positive note) ‘‘No. It has not been my pleasure to spar with Cáel yet.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘Isn't he a bit, big for you?’‘

HM: (looked straight at my crotch) ‘‘Not at all. I think it would fit nicely.’‘ (Coughing around the room)

CoN: (to me) ‘‘Can you provide any insight?’‘

Me: ‘‘I have a bad habit of walking into people who want to hurt me.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘These are multiple wounds.’‘

Me: ‘‘I piss off multiple people.’‘

CoN: ‘‘What do you attribute that too?’‘

Me: ‘‘I'm a reincarnated Amazon warrior bent on saving my sisters from global destruction. It is a surprisingly unpopular life path I have chosen.’‘

Neuro Surgeon made eye contact with the Psychologist, he shrugged. ‘‘Amazons are female warriors. Has your condition destabilized your gender identity?’‘

Me: ‘‘Let me check.’‘ I said To Parasitologist, ‘‘Are you married?’‘ I could see her wedding band through her glove.

Para: (key note of hesitation): ‘‘Yes.’‘

Me: ‘‘Happily?’‘

Para: ‘‘He's overseas.’‘

Me: ‘‘That has to be tough on you both. If I can get out of here, would you like to go out with me for a late dinner, or an early breakfast, and talk about your specialty?’‘

Para: ‘‘Um, in a purely professional capacity it would be okay.’‘ Yummy.

Me: (to Neuro Surgeon): ‘‘I'm good.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: (girlish smirk): ‘‘Thank you for establishing that for us, Mr. Nyilas.’‘

Endocrinologist: ‘‘Have you noted an increase in your sex drive?’‘

Rachel (from the far side of the room): (fearfully): ‘‘Goddess help us all.’‘

Me: ‘‘Hard to say. I've only been awake for a few hours. I'm feeling pretty sure that nine more orgasms and I'm done for the day aka normal for me.’‘

(Various people looked to the Psychologist, who shrugged again. That guy was always bending over backwards and taking career-ending risks on my behalf; really.)

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘You believe you are a male Amazon that can ejaculate nine times a day?’‘

Me: ‘‘Ten. I've already had sex once today, but it was with two women. One ejaculation. As for being a male Amazon, welcome to my Hell. How about this? Call my boss, Katrina Love. She will confirm that I believe I am an Amazon, it does not impact my abysmal work performance and she has medical evidence that I can, in fact, ejaculate ten times a day. This does not make me a freak. I love women, fully support the condom industry and I shall not apologize for either.’‘

Endo: (gasp) ‘‘Oh my God! He's not imaging it. He provided ten fully viable, and copious sperm samples in a seven hour period.’‘

Me: ‘‘I was so close to making it eleven too, but they caught us in the act.’‘

Para: ‘‘You had sex with a member of your medical team?’‘

Me: (puppy dog eyes): ‘‘Medicine is a harsh profession. You ladies who dedicate so much of yourselves deserve a little TLC (tender loving care for you non-romantics). Face it, you aren't going to rest until you've found out what's happened to me. How much of a bastard would I have to be to ignore such passion, extensive training and resolve on your part?’‘

Para: (blush) ‘‘Oh.’‘

Neuro Surgeon: ‘‘Mr. Nyilas, don't make me sedate you.’‘

Rachel: (whispered): ‘‘Please, please, please.’‘

To top it all off, it went downhill from there. They decided on the correct medical procedure. When I discovered it entailed cracking open my skull and probing around, I nixed that. They'd have to shave my head and I had my hair right at the perfect length. It would take months to get it back to that level of a sexually accessory. I'm not vain. I'm perpetually horny.

(Between later that night and before sunrise, with the Parasitologist in her bed)

‘‘Do you feel better?’‘ she said as she drew a circle around my right nipple. Translation: did I want to go home?

‘‘Yes, ‘‘ I sighed. ‘‘I wish I felt remotely back to where I was before I was jumped.’‘ T: I don't want to go home, I want to keep having sex with you, yes, you have made me a better man through your medical and physical exertions, and this won't be a one-time thing. Oink.

Adultery? Yes, no excuse. I was seeing more attractive, better crafted females, but I was a sucker for women with bright, laughing eyes, quick wits and an altruistic outlook on life.

‘‘I've never cheated on my husband before,’‘ Evian (the parasitologist) told me after she'd rolled over and rested her head on my sweaty chest.

‘‘This is cheating?’‘ I rumbled. ‘‘Evian, I'm the one in desperate need of care and comfort and all I see is an adult woman, professional expert and compassionate soul sacrificing herself to bring comfort to a person in need.’‘

‘‘Is that what you see?’‘ she murmured happily, her guilt evaporating.

‘‘Absolutely. You should tell your husband every detail of what you have done for me. It is only cheating if you plan to be dishonest. Choose the moment, set up the encounter in an emotionally safe place and bare any doubts you may have to him,’‘ I soothed her. ‘‘If he is the man you know him to be, he will understand,’‘ I added. I didn't know the guy.

I did know he had a hot, energetic wife that he'd left behind while he took a sabbatical to the Maldives. His specialty was parapsychology, which helped explain her extra interest in me. Deep down she was afraid her mate was a personable narcissist squandering their lives in chasing his egomaniacal discredited pursuits.

They were a mixed race couple. Evian was a first generation Gahanna-American. Hubby was Dutch-Armenian with a fanatical devotion to academic life, exotic travel and spending other people's money. They had honeymooned in the Bahamas, so he could record a mass sponge migration, he claimed it was nearly half a meter in less than one month (29 days).

Propelled solely by my genitals, I bet I could have covered the same distance in under three hours. It soon had proven impossible for Evian to advance in her career if they were both constantly gallivanting across the globe, so they now lived somewhat separate lives. They kept in touch through random e-mails and Instagram.

I quickly noted that in a preponderance of his pictures were handsome young men who Evian swore were his 'native' guides hired to lead him to distant, hard to reach locations. I couldn't help but point out in one pic was a Scandinavian nuclear family, cooking like sausages, in the background on some white sandy beach with its crystal blue-green surf. Maybe ghosts, cryptids, a low sanitation rating, or a high shark count kept the majority of tourists at bay?

Or the fortuitous ice-cold beverage dispensers that, somehow, Raiders of the Lost Ark had avoided placing in their opening sequence. Maybe he toted a cooler with him on every expedition, along with his 'not boy toys' local, non-sunbaked, un-calloused callow young men. I broached the subject of condoms. Fine for me, but Evian was certain that she and the Other Half wanted children (?).

How could I warn her she was playing Russian roulette with the Developing World? Instead, I told her she was lucky to find a man who let her explore herself and her horizons (sex with me). I thought he was exceptionally dedicated doing such brave and unappreciated work (not really) and he would most likely be drawn away for months, years, or even decades to come.

Lay out the 'facts' to a healthy, adult woman that her only chance for sexual fulfillment in the next ten years is in her apartment with her ready to go rarely fails to deliver upon the promised sexual reward. Evian was slow out of the gate, then accelerated to front-runner status. Cunnilingus? No, straight to a '69'. Missionary? Why stick with one sexual position for more than a minute when there were so many to choose from?

Anal sex? No, but that was a matter of time constraints, not lack of her willingness to explore. Back to me explaining to her how she hadn't cheated, her loving spouse would understand everything despite my certainty that he wouldn't contribute to anything or anyone until the turning globe compressed him into hydrocarbons.

We rolled over, Evian on the bottom, her legs spreading out to welcome my adventures, and then encasing me while we embraced. Knock, knock came the sound from the open bedroom door.

‘‘Time to go, Stud,’‘ Pamela grinned from the doorway. ‘‘Almost sunrise.’‘

‘‘What!’‘ Evian squawked. She tried to pull the covers up, but our body positions didn't allow it.

‘‘How did you get in here, into my apartment?’‘ Evian tried again.

‘‘Evian, these people,’‘ I automatically assumed there were multiple people out of sight, ‘‘are with me. I highly doubt your security system was designed for the NSA and your lock wasn't crafted by a master of the art of creating Chinese puzzle boxes, so they broke in, probably a few hours ago.’‘

‘‘You mean you've been, the entire time?’‘ Evian looked past me to Pamela.

‘‘Oh, we made sure to not peek in, paid for everything we used and met the takeout guy outside,’‘ my mentor smoothly related to my current bed partner. ‘‘We are his bodyguards. That does require us to keep in somewhat close proximity of his body, you understand.’‘

‘‘I, ah, ‘‘ Evian muttered. I stroked her hair.

‘‘Don't worry. There will be no accessible record that says I was ever here,’‘ I said. ‘‘There is something I have to take care of. Can I call you later for any updates on my condition?’‘

‘‘Yes, yes, of course you can,’‘ Evian's adrenaline rush began to subside with the knowledge that the criminals who had broken in were polite and not perverts.

For Cáel and company, it was back to Havenstone. In my absence, a truce had been reached. Agent Maddox gave up any pretense of a normal life, as had Delilah. Mona and Charlotte had gone over to their respective dwellings, retrieved a change of clothes and basic toiletries so those two could remain and meet their commitments.

Delilah was going gun-less inside Havenstone, all appeals denied. Virginia kept hers due to her official status and an agreement with Javiera. FP Castello could hardly justify to her superiors ordering an investigative agent to surrender her weapon on US soil. For all of us, it was the tail-dragging end to a long-ass day. I still had a few promises to keep before I could cuddle up with a nice comfy pillow.

Pamela could barely contain her glee. Was the source anything obvious? No. It was a victory conveyed with body posturing and a few courteous words from Corporate Security. Cáel Ishara, the Great Uplifter of 'Runners' was up and about once more. No other House had joined my lone wagon train. No other 'Runners' had been exalted for their efforts in my absence, so my spry presence was most welcome.

Velma and her unit were waiting at the ground level to relieve Rachel and her crew.

‘‘I'll put Ishar, Wakko Ishara to bed,’‘ Rachel yawned. Velma appeared quizzical. ‘‘His new designation is 'Wakko'.’‘

‘‘How appropriate,’‘ Velma responded deadpan. She'd get the joke later, when someone told her.

‘‘Do we have any idea when Cáel will be taking his vacation yet?’‘ Pamela poked the issue.

‘‘Four days,’‘ Velma answered. My trip to see Aya wasn't the issue.

‘‘Thank goodness. I get to leave Buffy in charge. She can handle the Council and the inductions while I'm gone,’‘ I grinned. That was the issue, inductions.

My absence wouldn't curtail any of House Ishara's new missions. To the security guards, that was great news for them to spread around. Buffy was getting 'my' nod and being invested with the Goddess' Ishara's authority. As fitting with my impossible existence, that had never happened before either, but it was happening now.

When Tiger Lily and Charlotte joined us from the garage, we began our trip to the roof. Daphne, as House Ishara's honored guest was expected. I still had to officially request her assistance in the Council Chambers. I probably should have asked her Head of House as well. I had to hope Pamela's influence would carry the day. I was too damn tired.

Madori, Senior (whose name turned out to be Yalda, Lebanese), Helena and Buffy were waiting for us, as expected. Sydney, one of her siblings and Marilynn Saint James were a bit of a shock. Three House Guards of, recognition took a second; House Anahit formed a screen for that group. I hadn't covered three meters when Marilynn noticed me and exploded.

‘‘You Cock-sucker!’‘ she screamed. ‘‘You killed her! She's shorn her hair and taken to the cliffs. How could you do that? She protected you,’‘ she ranted. ‘‘You murdered her!’‘ In contrast, Sydney Saint James and her sister were grieving, yet calm. They restrained Marilynn from a futile lunge in my direction.

What could I say? 'You are right?' 'I sacrificed your grandmother's life as part of a greater political play?' I had claimed ownership of every derogatory male, and gender neutral, descriptor in three languages. I was as bad as she said I was. Worse, I knew I would do it again if I had to. I was slipping that much more under the miasma of Amazon morality.

I stopped walking, torn by warring impulses. Having lost my father so recently, I was freshly acquainted with her pain and loss. Nothing I could say would change a damn thing. Instead,

‘‘Marilynn,’‘ I said in a low, steady voice, ‘‘Hayden betrayed House Ishara. I would have cut out her heart with my own hands, given half an opportunity. Grow up, or join her.’‘

That took the air out of the moment. My voicing such opinions was so unlike me, unless you were Kimberly, or Pamela. They knew me better. Marilynn snarled and leapt to the attack. Her House Guard did their jobs and held her back. My verbal smack to the face hadn't really stopped the air in its tracks. The wind was wreaking mayhem with our hair, clothes and my ritual shelter.

The sky was bleaching from pink to yellow. There wasn't much time. I couldn't imagine what even one second in the Black Sands would mean for Hayden. I trembled, thinking about the spirits of all those 'Runners' we had turned our backs on. I stepped into the roofless, cloth shelter constructed by someone who knew what they were doing.

I prepared for my shawl and the incense. Buffy put a hand to my chest and offered up a bowl with a miniscule amount of clear fluid. I took in my sisters. They all had red-rimmed eyes. This time out, they would shed the tears and blood, because we were all equals in this decision. That was the true meaning of the tears in the bowl and the blood to be spilt.

In this moment, we were all Ishara. We stood as a house united before the face of our Goddess and our Ancestors, ours. I knelt down in my proper place, Helena handed me the first name. I read it aloud, set it aflame and declared the ghost dead once more. I dipped a fingertip on the bowl then pressed the finger into the glowing embers. I opened her sight to our ancestors. Buffy leaned forward and cut her finger, letting off a drop to sizzle among the small flames.

Six names. House Ishara grew by six members. Sure, they were dead; in most cases, dead for decades with their unheralded services forgotten by most. No more. The wind didn't die down yet in my imagining, it quieted a bit. The white fabric facing East, past the sliver of Manhattan left to us, the boroughs beyond, then Long Island and finally the great Atlantic, turned orange then yellow.

I took one last breath.

'No.'

'Fuck you.'

Helena handed me the seventh name. I prepared to declare Hayden dead. Not Hayden Anahit.

Our former High Priestess had shorn her hair and died in shame, confessing her treason to her People in this irrevocable act of submission to her heart and the will of the Seven Martial Goddesses and the Fifty-three Amazon Houses. A crude epitaph might be 'She took the Bitches with her' because she'd done just that.

Hayden had done more in the act of dying to snuff out the resistance to the New Directive than any living act could have accomplished. This was more than executing old Heads of House so that their apprentices could rise up and take over the reins of their defiance. It was fairly practical to expect the Councilwomen's hand-picked successors would pursue their elder's agenda. It was also contrary to every instinct in the Amazon collective psyche.

Hayden had proclaimed that nothing short of death could extirpate the shame of her actions and those of her 'co-conspirators' then perished before anyone could challenge that ruling. To Amazon eyes, that wasn't spite, or petty vengeance. No, to the Amazons, Hayden had died before she could be proven 'Right', that she and those on the list she'd given Saint Marie were traitors.

For the apprentices turned Head of Houses, to pursue the policy of traitors was madness. That didn't mean they would embrace men and 'Runners'. There was still deeply embedded prejudice. What it meant was that to organize against the 'Runners' and the New Directive was a gross betrayal of their duties as leaders of the Amazon race. Hayden had made that clear seconds ago.

Buffy got my attention with a furtive hand motion. I looked to her, she was staring the other way so I followed her gaze all the way to Sydney's eyes. Sydney had cried much of last night and she was crying now. She gave me a curt nod. Hayden had passed beyond the Sunlit Realm and was now waiting on me.

'No.'

'We've had this discussion. I'm not listening.'

‘‘Hayden Saint James, you are dead,’‘ I sniffled. She had saved me when I needed it most. I shoved the paper deep into the glowing shards of burnt fragrances.

My finger blistered, my skin started to brown then blacken. The paper refused to catch fire.

‘‘No,’‘ I grunted.

‘‘No,’‘ Sydney groaned.

‘‘NO!’‘ Marilynn howled her denial of what lay before us.

'No.'

‘‘Fine,’‘ I muttered. I stood up, drew my trusty (I hoped) Glock. I popped out the clip and handed it to Buffy. There was no sense in wasting even a single bullet this close to a bloody conflict.

‘‘Cáel?’‘ Buffy's voice trembled. ‘‘Cáel Ishara, ‘‘ What could I say? I stepped past her then past Tiger Lily who unfortunately stood guard at the compass point I chose to take. She didn't stop me either though I could see the horror dawning on her face. See, I had a gun with a bullet in the chamber. I had a weapon.

Like most skyscrapers, Havenstone Commercial Investments had two barriers to save me from my madness. The two meter tall chain link fence was the first obstacle. I was sure it would be an embarrassing impediment to my reckless defiance to the decision of my ancestors and my goddess. That might inspire someone to commit sacrilege by hindering me. I would not be stopped. I also shouldn't have worried. Pamela would never let them get close to me. The wire ties holding the links to the closest pole snapped.

With three good kick/stomps the fence had failed in its purpose. I moved over it and to the second barrier, a 'meter plus a smidge' trench that, besides stopping someone from rolling off the roof, collected roof rubbish for easy removal. I jumped it. The view from this perch was breath taking, made all the more thrilling by the winds plucking and pulling at me.

Where the gusts trying to yank me off, or pushed me back? Maybe it was Hepit, Goddess of the Winds, weighing my selfless intensions against my abysmal judgment. No time for her. I had a funeral to attend. I pulled out my knife with my left hand. I really contemplated my action plan and it was really trying to suggest that my sisters should never have unstrapped me from that hospital bed.

‘‘I, Cáel Ishara, cannot live with the shame my Ancestors and Goddess have heaped upon me,’‘ I cried out. Yes, I was making my Death Pledge. I extended my right arm out until it was level with my shoulder, gun pointing off to the Chase Building. I wouldn't shoot at them. That would render my pistol no longer a weapon and that just wouldn't do.

‘‘I swore to Hayden, in front of the Golden Mare and the Keeper of Records that I would bear her spirit into the halls of our Ancestors. To deny me this is to put a weight upon me that only an eternity of loneliness can bring.’‘ I desperately willed my right thumb and fingers to unclench. My hand didn't want to. It, like most organism, wanted to keep on living.

My digits twitched. My suicidal brain was winning.

‘‘I shall shear my hair before I hit bottom, dying without a House and dooming myself to search for Hayden in the afterlife even if it takes until the end of time.’‘ The words were coming to me easier now. I was on the precipice in more than one way. The winds tried to lift me off the lip of the gutter.

I still had a weapon to drop, sealing my pledge and confirming my displeasure.

‘‘I die denying you so that my house does not have to lift up my shame when one of them steps up to replace me. Good, ‘‘ I nearly lost it. My fingers finally gave enough that I could feel the metal of the grip begin to slide down.

‘‘Cáel!’‘ Helena screamed with every ounce of her being. ‘‘It Burns!’‘ Whoops. Almost died there. My heart felt victorious. I had honored my word to, no, I hadn't won a thing. They had. They hadn't doomed Hayden. I had. Not with my denouncing of her by dropping the axe on her desk. That had been unavoidable.

My failure was way before that and it came down to one little word.

My.

My House. My House Ishara. That was what my ancestors and my Dot Ishara, Eek! Almost got sucked off there.

I pushed off the lip with my feet and calves, propelling myself backwards over the trench. Two sets of hands grappled with me and unceremoniously dragged my stumbling form over the now well-trodden fence. I had to face up to the fact that I was an Amazon and I was appointed by them to lead my house after torturous centuries of waiting.

My House. I was the heir of Vranus, son of Ishara and, as the old adage goes, I could not let this cup pass from my lips. Neither Rachel, nor Tiger Lily, my rescuers, said a word.

‘‘There is something I need to take care of,’‘ I told them through a forced smile. Hayden was waiting and she had waited long enough for me to come around to her way of thinking,  long enough.

I was a leader of the Host. I had better start acting more like one.

 The Four Days

I was still in New York when the Council convened, but I had to leave before all the key matters could be settled. Despite some of Buffy's objections, ‘‘we’‘ (meaning me) and House Ishara had decided that switching up leaders in the midst of the upcoming pivotal events would make matters worse, not better. Daphne pledged to me, to Buffy, to the Isharan ancestors and to Ishara herself to give true, diligent and continuous service until I, Buffy, or Helena dismissed her.

She would be Buffy's social eyes and ears, as well as her translator and voice. I imagined that translating for Buffy would be 'creative' at times. An added oddity was that Buffy insisted on being called (dead word spoken), which meant 'First' instead of (dead word spoken) which was the traditional 'apprentice'.

Krasimira okayed it. The term 'First' had been used before in Council. Its meaning was a bit different though. 'First' implied a deep, romantic relationship with the Head of House that included possessing insight into the Head's mindset. Buffy thought the title fitted her perfectly.

‘‘Best to keep those bitches at bay from the get-go,’‘ Buffy snarled.

It was difficult to keep my head and heart from becoming unsettled over what transpired as I packed for my trip to see Aya. No one on Hayden's list ran. No Head of House said 'fuck you' and barricaded herself and hers in some holding and dared the sisters to come get her. They awaited the convening of the Council, showed up and silently took their seats.

There was no opening song. The Leader was not there to begin it. As the first order of business, Saint Marie stood and related the how's and where's of Hayden's demise. With that brief preamble, she read off the list of names. The condemned stood when their names were called, drew forth their blades and sheared off long locks of their hair, declaring their 'House-less' status.

SD members roughly seized them; they were nothing more than traitors to the race by that point; and dragged them into the hallway where two separate Security Detail women put two bullets in their hearts. A quick, thorough and efficient way to deal with the trash. I had been told their bodies would be cremated. Their skulls would be maintained only for the purpose of genealogical study.

In the Council chamber, Krasimira reaffirmed the relevant Amazon legal code provisions. The Golden Mare would direct the Host until a Regency Council could be formed. Only then did Saint Marie and Krasimira begin the meeting's invocation. Buffy cried and she wasn't alone. A full third of the Council had new faces and a terrifying shift in direction had been established.

No, the echoes of gunfire had not made the new House Heads proponents of men and 'Runners'. What those women were looking at was the deathly reality that defying those two forces was treason. Hayden had established that. And by taking her own life, she had charted a path the rest could not deviate from. Based on what I learned from Katrina, Beyoncé, Daphne and Krasimira, the shift started out gradually, then became a roaring current.

Issue One was not the Regency Council; it was war. They acknowledged it; they affirmed the Epona/Ishara initiative of creating alliances with the United States Federal government (Javiera), the 9 Clans and the Earth  and  Sky. They formally directed the Host's efforts to the destruction of the 7 Pillars and Condotteiri. After all, resolution by the obliteration of one's foes was standard practice.

The justification was the Condotteiri's murder of three members of the Security Detail and of Ferko Nyilas of Ishara by way of Vranus (he was on the Rolls for all eternity now) and the Seven Pillars' attempted murder of Temujin, the Supreme Khan of the Earth  and  Sky and retroactively an ally to the Host. That statement was more for the Earth  and  Sky as a symbol of Amazon dedication to the task at hand than a clerical matter for themselves. But like my Father, Temujin's life was elevated to something of value in their eyes.

If the Amazons felt you were a threat, they rarely argued about it and half those arguments happened after the fact. The second the Condotteiri soldiers fired on the clearly identified SD leader at my Burnham home, the war option was on the table. That Council decision was tidying up the issue in case it became historically significant later. After all, not being tidy 2500 years ago had led to 'Me'.

The most critical part of those two votes (declaring war on the Condotteiri and on 7 Pillars) was the reminder the Host needed to pay attention to their core values; self-defense and protection of their young. An eye opening moment took place during one of the breaks when Kohar Marda; Ursula's former apprentice, now Head of House, approached Buffy.

According to Daphne (Buffy was contemplating being attacked), the surrounding conversations muted. Kohar politely asked for a meeting with Buffy to discuss the qualifications Ishara used for selecting inductees. Runners! The successor to the Amazon who had sent Leona to assassinate me was now asking how to add 'Runners' to her house.

Mysticism may have played its part. Respect for Hayden's final appeal to alleviate her shame played a role too. In my mind, the ultimate factor was that this was a practical choice made by a lethally practical race. War meant deaths. Every House knew the ages of their young, thus the rate at which their numbers would be naturally replenished and what forces they needed to put forth as the conflict raged on. The answer to meeting their strategic obligations was the 'Runners'.

Kohar had stepped forward first for a more personal reason. Ursula had been in the forefront of what now was derogatorily referred to as the Cult of Blood Purity; undeniable treasonous thinking. Shame drove Kohar. Ursula had died house-less, but lived and ruled as a Mardan. Only a heartfelt repudiation of Ursula's policies could diminish the burden of Mardan guilt. Kohar had to go first.

The rest of the Council wasn't busting down Ishara's door in a rush to follow Kohar's example. That didn't matter. The glass ceiling the Host had been stomping down on the heads of 'Runners' for fifty years had shattered. The final act of tragedy, in my mind, was that the glory of that moment would go to House Ishara, not House Anahit. She was my ancestor now, not Sydney's or Marilynn's.

When the Amazons looked back on history, Hayden Ishara had given her all for her people, changing the very direction of the Host's lifeblood. She would stand exalted with our greatest heroines, bearing my name. From everyone's evaluation but Buffy's, my First did a wonderful job being fierce and polite in an equal, measured and deserved manner. Katrina even hinted that some of the Council leaders preferred a less-effective me to be at the next meeting.

To be continued in Cáel Leads the Amazon Empire - Book 2

By FinalStand for Literotica.