Asian Wars Brewing
In 16 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.
[World News]
It was the happenstance of another conflict that encouraged Turkish solidarity and Khanate action, the Crimea. Russia had opened a serious door to the Abyss by annexing the Crimea from the Ukraine by force. Technically, Russia had violated Ukrainian sovereignty by seizing that region.
The Russians (with tacit support from China) put forth the political notion of 'lost territory'. Thus Vladimir Putin had unwittingly 'green lighted' the greatest consumption of 'lost territory' in the history of mankind. Following Putin's reasoning, all Temujin was doing was reuniting the widely separated pieces of the Great Khanate. His invasion of Xinjiang and Nei Mongol were also part of that policy.
The 'Carolina Reaper' spice in this chili was a group called the Crimean Tartars. It didn't get too much press in the West, but in the spring of 2014, the Crimean Tartars, a Turkish ethnic minority, attempted to do to Russia and the new Republic of Crimea what those two had done to the Ukraine. They declared their own autonomous state within the Crimea.
Russian security forces quickly squashed that movement, and in doing so, managed to incite the Turkish Republics and the minority Turkish populations living inside the Russian Federation. It was a low grade irritant to the Turkish people that would, in time, have dwindled into being yet another indignity, much like the Uyghur struggles for independence. By the dictates of Fate alone, it was the right irritant at the magic time for the Khanate.
The Turkish people were being reacquainted with the clarion call of Pan-Turkish Nationalism. It was an idea that was over 100 years old and rather discredited in most circles, treated as an anthropological discipline, but not as a political ambition. But there were now three igniters for the Khanate Phoenix.
The dismissive treatment of the Crimean Tartars was the smallest spark, yet also the most crucial in that it reminded your average Turk that for 100 years, they had been the victims of secular, oppressive regimes, the Soviets (Russian) and the Communist Chinese. That oppression was still living its fifteen minutes of fame.
The second factor was the boogeyman of the West that had been burning bright-hot over the past twenty years, the Islamic Identity movement. It wasn't just fanatics running around the Syrian Desert, or the Afghan/Pakistan border. It was a strong undercurrent in the Muslim world that recalled the halcyon days of the Caliphate.
The original Mongol Khanate hadn't championed any religious doctrine. It had been the Mongol-Turkish successor states that had turned Islam into a weapon to strike down their enemies. That was the history that Temujin and the Earth & Sky were embracing. This was both a jihad and a struggle to reassert their ethnic identity.
The Russian Federation had arrogantly discarded Turkish appeals. Turkish nationalists were incensed, but they were never big fans of Russia anyway. It was the commuters on their way to work who found this utter dismissal to be insulting. It was the Imams who spoke out against still more sectarian oppression. It was the journalists who wrote a few scathing articles about the new Russian imperialism.
When that tiny core of Earth & Sky seized power in those four countries, their power was more ephemeral than substantive. The important factors working against them were that they had relatively little power in those countries and no organized political support. (They had been a secret society, after all.) What they did have going for them was an antsy, dissatisfied public and an on-edge military.
Remember, the Chinese had launched a series of apparently unwarranted attacks into their nations only forty-eight hours ago and had given these countries some trumped up claims of combating terrorism. The militaries of Kazakhstan and Mongolia discovered that they were at war before sunrise. Not knowing the score, unengaged PLA border units began clashing with their Mongolian and Turkish counterparts.
In War as in Love, the same rules held true. The quality of your 'game' was secondary to who approached the girl first. If the girl was on the prowl, you were the answer to her desires. Unless the second guy to show up was remarkably superior, she'd stick with the one who recognized her qualities first.
Girls are not nearly as shallow and superficial as guys would like to believe. Unless she's looking for a three-way, she'll take the guy she feels is the least likely to stick with her for the night, rather than become a date-jumper herself. (If she is a party girl, all bets are off.) For the militaries of Kazakhstan and Mongolia, they were about to be that 'second guy' to get to Lady Victory if they didn't get moving.
If they hesitated much longer, they knew they'd get clobbered. The unknown person talking to them from the Ministry of Defense was saying that their countries were at war. Shots were being fired. If those generals and colonels had believed there was still time for rational discourse, they would have realized they were engaging in madness.
But every second that passed increased the likelihood of planes being caught in their bunkers, runways being cratered, their troops being caught in their barracks and their reserves left unarmed in their homes. The Khanate was broadcasting that a State of War existed. The legitimate governmental infrastructure hadn't adjusted yet, so those militaries went into 'pre-emptive' strike mode.
[End World News]
So the UN was meeting in Special Session, trying to figure out what had gone wrong in Central Asia. The UN representatives of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan didn't know what was going and as seasoned diplomats, they kept their mouths shut. Only four people in the UN knew the real score.
One was my old friend, Oyuun Tömörbaatar, Kazakhstan's Permanent UN Representative. He was fresh off the jet back to New York and most likely, the Khanate's silent ambassador. The other three didn't include the US. No, two of them were Sir Grant, Her Majesty's Representative, and David Donoghue, Ireland's Representative and member of the Illuminati, the O'Shea faction.
There also was yet another 'slight problem'. The former Mongolian Representative seemed to have vanished and his Youth Panel Advisor was handing over his own bona fides, which no one at the UN could confirm because the Mongolian Capital, Ulan Bator, was in the midst of a regime change. Until then, Tuguldor Batjargal could speak and talk, but not vote.
That news wasn't all that relevant to the Amazons. To the US and the Brits, it was critical. The US Cabinet was still assembling and had no specific orders for their UN Ambassador yet, so it fell to the United Kingdom to make the first move. From the minimal expressions Delilah and Chaz were slipping our way, the Amazons were getting 'Brownie Points' with at least one world government.
I had little doubt I was gaining status in Temujin's eyes too. I had delivered diplomatic contact in less than eleven hours, even if it was the British, and not the Americans, putting forth the first feelers. I was soul-sick looking over at Katrina and Elsa. They respected my pain by not congratulating me on a successful diplomatic stratagem.
St. Marie had already honored my initiatives by agreeing to send help to the ninja. I doubted such a mission was in the Amazon War Plans Manual. In their past, Amazons always fought alone. Even allies were little more than different factions fighting the same enemy. In the past two weeks that had changed.
By my interpretation of events, the Augurs had bound us to the Earth & Sky. By conception, I was tied to the Illuminati. I had manipulated my birthright via Vranus to intertwine the blood of House Ishara with that of the 9 Clans. Was I making a difference, not only within my Amazons, but to the World at large?
Maybe I was. I would have been happier if I wasn't being such a spaz, stumbling from one encounter to the next, hoping I was doing the right thing. I would have settled for doing the least harm. To survive this, I had to get back to my roots, ambitious playboy. I was going to let people down because of my sexual ambitions. Okay.
If I suddenly began to embrace traditional Western morality it was going to break me. I had to prioritize. I was giving women, trapped in the ghostly place between the outside World's secularism and Amazon spiritualism, immortality. I had two unborn daughters and one unborn son who might actually want me around as they grew up.
"Cáel?" Helena beckoned me. I hadn't heard her come in. I had no idea she was here, which implied another disaster had befallen people in life I cared about. She foisted a box on me. It was wooden, about 30cm x 30cm x 10cm. It had a simple latch that I flipped so that I could look inside. Inside was,
"We, the Isharans, decided that if you are going to make a pledge to this outsider woman, then you should give her something of us," she explained. "We were unaware of you making other arrangements, so three of us examined a few of the artifacts Krasimira had transferred to Havenstone and decided on this."
I put the box down on the side table. The necklace inside was beautiful, fragile and ancient-looking.
"It was the gift of a Parthian princess to an Isharan Emissary from, we think it is from the 2nd century," Helena explained. She meant 2nd century CE.
The artifacts transferred must have been from the repository of the Amazons, location unknown, that had been held in the Isharan vaults. My House had anticipated my mind-splitting day and selected an engagement gift for Hana Sulkanen.
"The small selection of rings was unpromising, so, we figure she knows you are unconventional," Helena shrugged.
I began crying. I hugged her, then motioned Buffy over to share in the 'family' moment.
"You are getting married?" CIA Officer Cresky ruined the mood.
"Yes. I proposed marriage to Hana Sulkanen and she has accepted, but circumstances interrupted my search for the ring," I interlaced deceptions with the truth.
I did not mention the timing of the arrangement in order to buy Hana some time to prepare for the CIA rectal probes coming her family's way. I had forgotten the company I ran with.
"Officer Cresky, if I may?" Chaz spoke in a smooth, yet lethal intonation. "I suggest you circle-file that bit of data." Cresky looked his way, still so sure he knew better than the rest of the room.
"Very well," Chaz nodded to Cresky. "Before you trip over your own arrogance, think about what we are doing here? Highly equipped mercenaries operating without concern for legal prosecution, bio-terrorism on a scale to rival the European colonization of the Americas, and a military conflict on your soil involving perhaps seven hundred well-armed, experienced light infantry and Special Forces, does any of that ring a bell?"
"Thank you for that summary, Mr. Whoever-You-Are," Cresky smirked. That lasted about two seconds before FBI Agent Vincent stepped over and landed a painful Gibb-slap (that is from NCIS) to the back of Cresky's head. "What the fuck!" Cresky spat as he stood up, spun around and began to draw down on Vincent.
Whoa, we are a fast crowd. Cresky's sixth sense kicked in just in time to realize every Amazon, two of the three Brits, two of the Illuminati and Virginia all held guns pointed at him. Vincent hadn't even bothered to defend himself.
"Everyone put their guns away," I stated calmly.
"Let me shoot him," I added with a vicious gleam in my eye. "I've got diplomatic immunity."
"Good point," Delilah responded gleefully. "Chaz, go get some of those curtains. We'll used them as a drop cloth. I'll call housekeeping."
"I like this plan," Buffy jumped in. "I think we can stuff his body in the refrigerator."
"I'll make sure to leave a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door when we leave," Helena finished up our murderous conspiracy. They weren't done with Cresky. Color Sergeant Chaz Tomorrow strode purposefully to the closest drapes and yanked them down with no effort.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do this," Vincent extended a palm to Chaz.
I couldn't begin to describe how stupid that was, had Chaz not been a consummate professional. He dropped the curtains, moved past Vincent and returned to his station by the MI-6 leader who was continuing an unbroken telephone conversation. No sooner had we re-holstered our firearms,
"Sulkanen eh?" Senior Field Officer George Cresky looked back at me.
The entire time Deidre, Riki, Javiera, Katrina and Captain Moe were on their phones, giving and receiving information from their various organizations. That explained the lack of refereeing from the people with authority, unless you counted on me to be in charge. No one was. The ATF guy had open his laptop and was streaming some data with Elsa looking over his shoulder.
The ICE agent was playing phone tag with his brethren in Arizona. They were trying to figure out who all those dead Chinese guys were and how they had gotten into the country, with all their freaking armory. With old Jonas still waiting for his bail hearing, the ICE guy was also juggling the Homeland Security inquiries that Javiera couldn't deal with at the moment.
"George," I shrugged. "I'm not going to threaten you. It is pointless. You think you are the smartest man in the room. I think you are the fifth smartest and that's only because I've recently experienced a lobotomy that gifted me with five thousand years of life experiences. My money is on Katrina being smarter than Javiera, but I don't really know her yet."
"Who do you think is fourth?" George scoffed.
"Riki, of course, moron. I only rate her below Javiera and Katrina because she even remotely believes I might be Irish," I chuckled.
"No, I don't," Riki corrected me in a brief interlude in her phone conversation.
"What about me?" Delilah mused.
"If you were smarter than me, you would be halfway to Heathrow by now," I pointed out.
"Damn it!" Delilah snapped her fingers, conceding me this round.
"Agent Loire, I see you aren't arguing with him," Virginia prodded her colleague.
"I learned some time ago that I don't need to possess the highest IQ to get the job done. Smart people screw up just as often as dumb ones," Vincent related. "I'm a big believer in common sense and the remarkable ability for most people to ignore it."
"Thank you for that wisdom, Sir," I bowed to Vincent. "I'm glad today hasn't been a total waste."
"You are saving lives," Virginia brought up. By the looks I was getting from the 'talkers', they agreed with her. I didn't.
"By all means, when I've actually saved a single soul, let me know," I countered unhappily.
"Wakko Ishara," Wiesława got my attention, "we need to be going."
Making it to Hana on time was on my wish list, so I gave the various female authorities a quick acknowledgement, grabbed the box, and then made for the door. For a split second, I almost made it out the door with only two bodyguards (Wiesława and Saku), almost.
"Cáel? Where do you think you are going?" Buffy inquired.
I was head of a First House of the Amazon Host, a Prince of Hungary, a diplomat from the Pugnacious Nation of Ireland and, a prospective sex toy to the Illuminati.
"Run for it!" I urged my two companions as I raced past them.
"Son of a Bitch!" Buffy yelled after me. "Get him!"
I really am a bad influence on most of the people I meet. And the three of us were safely ahead of the pack until I had to stop to pound on the elevator button. The reactions of Nikita and Skylar saved me. Nikita put her hand on her piece and took two steps my way. Skylar turned the other way, trying to figure out what we were running from.
Buffy collided with her, became tangled up and they fell over together. Helena, coming right behind Buffy, leapt over those two and ended up impacting with Nikita. Helena landed face-first on Nikita's back. Wiesława, Sakuniyas and I fled into the elevator and hit a button for a lower floor.
"What are we doing?" Wiesława inquired in a nervous tone.
"I don't want to walk around with a freaking army, Wiesława," I confided. "I want to have a bit of intimacy when I meet with Hana."
"Why didn't you tell our sisters that?" she reposted.
"Would they have listened?" Saku snorted. "Amazon, would you have listened if he insisted you stay away?"
"I, " Wiesława looked from Saku to me then back to me. "No, but why are we running away from his 'First'?"
"Child, this oddity I understand," Saku studied me. "Before battle, we would kick the heads of dead enemy scouts around to ease the tension. It was a nonsensical thing to do before facing death. Whatever else I dislike about this one," she gave me a sign of her approval, "he does not shy away from the fight, nor deludes himself into thinking a fight is not coming."
"He is easing his nerves," she concluded.
"That is the nicest thing you've ever said about me," I gave her a respectful nod.
"I was wrong to doubt you were the grandson of Alal," she explained. "That was one of the things that drew me to him, I loved battle too much and he loved it not at all. We complimented each other."
The elevator opened up on the tenth floor and off I ran. The Odd Couple was on my heels.
"Where are we going?" Wiesława asked.
"The service elevator. There must be fifty people in the lobby waiting for us and I'm not pulling a Butch and Sundance," I huffed. Those two didn't get it. Pamela would have.
Not only did I have to find the service elevator, but I had to find someone in Facilities or Housekeeping because this elevator wasn't for guests and had its own key code. I found the elevator first. The doors opened. It was Pamela.
"How the?" I huffed as I jumped on board.
"Rachel fitted you with a tracking device, Chumley," Pamela joked. The four of us were heading down into the bowels of the hotel and, hopefully, an unguarded exit.
"Damn it!" I groused. "Tennessee, you need to keep me abreast of such things."
"Don't Tux your tail between your flippers and waddle away," Pamela chortled.
"This isn't nearly as much fun when they don't get it," I reminded her.
"Be patient," Pamela snickered. "I'm sure their curiosity is eating them alive."
"You would be mistaken," Saku frowned.
"What are you two talking about?" Wiesława added.
"We are in the land of the Philistines," Pamela nudged me.
"Does that make me David, or Saul?" I bantered.
"Oh!" Wiesława blurted out excitedly. "I know this one. You two are talking about that little boy versus the giant Geronimo myth, right?"
The elevator doors opened just in time to surprise a man pushing a room service cart.
"Excuse us," I gave him a tip of my invisible hat. We were past him before he could put forth a coherent complaint. There was no way we could all fit in a taxi. Pamela had an answer for that too.
(The Doom of All Mankind)
Pamela walked up to a Soccer Mom in her mini-van, tapped the window and showed her a Homeland Security ID, I found it best not to ask. Reluctantly the woman hit the 'power lock', allowing Pamela to open the door.
"Hello Gracious citizen," Pamela greeted the woman.
"We are part of a Justice Department special group and we need you to drive us to an expensive restaurant," Pamela began.
"A restaurant?" the woman was cautious and confused.
Yes, Miss," I interjected myself. I put on my 'sexy, yet passionately political' smile.
You can tell a whole bunch about a person by the bumper stickers they put on their car.
"At that restaurant there will be a clandestine meeting of representatives from certain insidious corporate interests and radical right-wing political power-brokers bent on disrupting a Hillary Clinton run on the White House in 2016," I punched up the intensity. Pause.
"Oh my God!" she squealed. "I knew it, I knew it. They are going after Hillary! What can I do to help you?"
"We suspect that they will have some of their NRA goons hanging around, so we can't simply roll up in government vehicles," I explained. She unlocked the panel door.
As Pamela, Wiesława, and Saku climbed into the back, with two young teenage girls, I got into the passenger sea. The doors shut, the light changed to green and off we went.
"If you could drop us off at the Osteria al Doge," I balanced my grin with the grim.
"Oh, that's a lovely place. I've never actually eaten there, but, " the driver began rambling.
"Hey, why don't you and your two beautiful daughters join us?" I suggested. "It will help with our cover."
"Oh, will it be safe?" she murmured. I nodded. "Okay, to help Hillary '16." We got her name, the name of her daughter and her daughter's friend.
They had recently finished up a Day Swim Camp and had been heading to their fashionable West Side condo when we appeared on their horizon. Now she was calling her husband, Wilbur, to let him know she'd run across an old friend (my insertion into her lie), so she'd be late getting home. It wasn't that the Soccer Mom was stupid, it was the political climate.
Elements of every angle of the political spectrum wanted to believe they were the Champions of the Truth and that the other side was cheating. If this woman had 'Abortion is Murder' and 'Mitt Romney 2012' as her bumper stickers, I would have been pedaling the Communist/Progressive Axis of Evil as the wrong-doers in question. Not only was she getting to live out her fantasy, she and her little angels were getting $80 meals out of the deal.
We dropped Pamela off in front of the establishment while the rest of us went parking lot shopping. Five minutes later, our little group was filing in. Pamela had a table for the six of them, allowing me to make straight for Hana Sulkanen. The prospective Mrs. Nyilas appeared to have had a rough 24 hours and the look she gave me was one of fatigue and worry.
I walked over as casually as I could, then in one quick flourish, pulled out the box I had hidden inside my jacket and held in place by my left arm pressing in. The box turned on my palm. I opened it as I went to one knee.
"Hana Sulkanen, would you do me the honor of consenting to be my partner, spouse and better half?" I requested.
The conversations around us sputtered, then ceased all together. Even the wait staff was looking our way. Hana, Hana was stunned, quite literally. It began with a tremble in the lips. Her eyes watered up, then she gulped twice. Her eyes flitted over the necklace, then back at me.
"Yes I will, Cáel Nyilas," she sniffed. "I will be your partner, spouse and equal half."
A nod followed, then came the applause and murmurs of approval. I stood, placed the box in front of Hana, drew forth the ancient necklace and waited. Hana pulled her hair aside so when I stepped behind her I had no problem putting it around her neck and hooking the clasps. After that, taking my seat felt like such a relief.
"I, I don't know what to say," the maybe future Mrs. Cáel Nyilas regarded me with teary eyes. "I didn't expect something like this." She reached her right hand across the table.
"It gets better," I took her hand, turned it palm up then began tracing lines with one finger along her palm and wrist. "This makes you the 'presumptive' Princess of Hungary and Transylvania."
Hana didn't miss a beat.
"This is from our friends in Asia," she stated. "I'll makes sure to use my aristocratic credentials when I get there." That scared me.
"You aren't seriously thinking about going there for the next few weeks, are you?" I grunted.
"I have to," she persisted. "No one knows what to make of this 'Khanate' situation."
"Um, war, plague and most likely famine before too long, those are all good reasons not to go," I urged her to reconsider.
"Cáel, I'm the only one who can go that might make a difference," she stated defiantly.
"These are my employees and I can't leave them hanging in the wind while this situation re-writes the rules in that part of the world," she confounded me.
"Security?" I questioned.
"We have our normal security staff," she sounded less than thrilled.
Her people were there to stop trespassers and thieves, not true bodyguards. Week one, when I was alone, 40,000 Amazons seemed like the Mount Everest of obstacles. Now, I felt like having double than number still wouldn't be enough. Roughly 4,000 of my sisters were ready and able to perform offensive operations, 10% of our population, which was very impressive.
Given time, the Golden Mare could muster 5~6,000 more. The rest would guard the holdings of the Host and keep our internal economy running. Wars were hideously expensive. Unlike every other secret society, Amazons rarely used proxies and never fought combat by proxy. The 9 Clans were the same way,
"Ghost Tigers," I whispered.
"What?" Hana hadn't been able to make that out.
"I think I can get you two professional killers to protect you," I grimaced. The Ghost Tigers weren't bodyguards. Like the other eight clans, the Ghost Tigers were assassins.
They either operated alone, or in groups two, mentor and student. This technique made them incredibly hardy and resourceful. They also operated in Siberia and Turkish Asia, right where Hana was going. Asking Temujin for help would be counter-productive. Not only did the warlord need every man and woman he could throw into the fight, Hana was my business.
By acting as his diplomat, I was fulfilling my military obligations to the Khanate. The extent of Temujin's charity had been to not take the Sulkanen holdings. The security of my yurt was still my duty and mine alone. I could ask Selena, a favor for a favor.
"If you succeed, I promise to listen to their advice," Hana compromised.
That wasn't a pledge to follow their advice. Hana would still do what she felt was right and in this case 'right' meant going into a war zone to look after her people, the men and women Jormo Sulkanen's investment group hired to work for them in that part of the world. A key part of that workforce operated the biggest refinery in Central Asia, which was pumping out the lifeblood of the Great Khan's war machine, diesel, gasoline, and aviation fuel.
The People's Republic could read an economic flow chart was well as I could. They knew the Achilles Heel of any modern military was petrol and the main sources of that for the Khan were the refineries at Pavlodar and Shymkent (aka Chimkent). Shymkent had been owned by Chinese interests and Hana was already hearing rumors that key facility operators there had been, liquidated.
Hana was heading out in two days, New York, London, St. Petersburg, Omsk and from there to Pavlodar by a corporate-owned Su-80GP if she could, or by Range Rover overland if flying was too unsafe. Unsafe?
"I'm not hungry," Hana announced as the waitress put our dinners before us.
"When do you have to leave?" she inquired, automatically assuming I had to be somewhere else, which I did.
"Later tonight," was the best I could do as far as my own safety was concerned. "Let me guess, you want me to go talk to your father."
"Absolutely. I have little doubt this will be public very soon and I don't want someone congratulating my Father tomorrow morning at work." I stood, retrieved my money clip and heard the waiter gasp. I smiled at her, then dropped three hundreds on the table.
"Cáel, you are armed," Hana gasped softly.
"Oh this," I shrugged. "I've cut down today because of the government meetings, that means three pistols, two tomahawks and one knife."
"Do we need to worry about the police?" she whispered once she came to my side. We were angling for the door.
"Thank you for your assistance," Pamela spoke to the Soccer Mom. "I'll makes sure the Clintons put you on their Christmas card list." The woman looked thrilled. Pamela was tossing currency at the table she shared while Saku picked up her plate and a bottle of wine.
Wiesława had been in the process of leaving when she mistook Saku's actions for civilized behavior and grabbed up her food and drink. The three of them were making for the exit. The maître de was about to intervene over the stolen accoutrements when Buffy and Helena walked in the door. One look at the Buffy storm front moving in encouraged him to seek shelter elsewhere.
"Don't!" I glared at Buffy. "Just don't." 98% of the time I liked putting up with Buffy's mood swings, tonight was the other 2% and she was going to have to suck it up. Pamela parted Buffy and Helena so I could lead Hana outside, where Velma and company were waiting for me with two GL-550's.
"Did you drive here?" I asked Hana. Hana was scoping out the security now encircling the two of us.
"No, I took a taxi," she informed me.
"My convoy it is, then," I accepted the reality that my bid for even limited freedom was at an end. I escorted her to the second black armored escort and trundled us into the middle row of seats.
Saku and Wiesława worked their way into the back while Buffy sat with me and Hana. A minute later, Buffy finally broke the silence.
"You owe me an explanation," she stated as she stared at me. She didn't glare, just stared.
"He doesn't owe you anything," Saku grumbled. "He is your Head of House."
"You don't get to be a part of this," Buffy spat back at Sakuniyas. They were both angry.
"Buffy, he is, " Pamela got out. This was my problem, not theirs.
"Stop," I signaled Pamela and Saku. "Buffy, I ran away this evening because I'm not a team player. I never have been. I like to do my own thing and I've been happy that way.
I didn't join Havenstone to be a part of the Host. Initially, I stayed out of fear, fear that what limited freedom I possessed would be taken away from me. I didn't volunteer to be a member of a house. I certainly never dreamed of being the Head of a House. I don't want to be responsible for anyone but me. I certainly never sought out the forces currently tearing my life apart.
I'm doing the best I can, Buffy. All this crap has been foisted on me and I'll do the best I can because I feel that I can't stand by and do nothing, but don't for a second assume I like it, or want the responsibility. In case you missed it, part of my responsibility is the death of thousands, probably millions of Chinese and a land war in Asia.
The hard, cold facts are that I didn't do anything wrong. The Condottieri murdered my father, the Seven Pillars had been planning for years to make their play for Global Domination and the Earth & Sky had been preparing their atrocity for nearly twenty years. The Host's best chance of survival is to fight now. My decision on the 'Runners' was the correct one.
That still cost Hayden her life and the life of around fifty other Amazons. I killed men in hand-to-hand combat, barbequed God knows how many more, and witnessed hellishly twisted souls enslaved by the Seven Pillars, and no one should have to see that. Buffy," I put my hand on her thigh, "I didn't sign up for any of this. I never wanted to be a soldier, leader and diplomat of any kind, yet here I am."
"Cáel, I only want to keep you safe and I can't, " Buffy began to make her case.
"Not happening," I interrupted (bad habit of mine). "My vacation tried to kill me, Buff. I was in the midst of a freaking army and I still nearly died." Pause. "Buffy, I think I've been trying to emulate Katrina's leadership style. That's a losing proposition.
She is way tougher mentally and has been trained to disassociate her emotions from a death toll. Not me. I am going to keep things on a personal level and that means I'm going to do things in person, not in person with my own Death Squad. Is that clear enough for you?" I sighed.
"Cáel, I hear what you are saying," Buffy took a deep breath. Nice boobs.
"Understand that there is a large faction in Havenstone that values your life highly and would be heartbroken if you got killed. We now know for sure that you are going to keep trying to get yourself killed, we are, okay with that. That doesn't mean we are going to sit back and do nothing. We will, try to be more discrete about your security. Is that fair?"
It wasn't, but it was about as fair as I could hope for. I let it slide.
"It will have to do," I conceded. Buffy seemed to be in agreement, so her head spinning slap caught me somewhat off guard.
"Are you going to stop whining about your pathetic problems and man-up?" Buffy grumbled.
I contemplated attacking her. She was Elsa's best student, so a physical showdown wasn't going to end well for me. I actually considered drawing my gun, except we both knew I wouldn't shoot her. That left pummeling her in the verbal arena as my best response.
"What?" I regarded her.
"What, what?" she darkened.
"You are looking at me of if you are expecting something," I grew serious. "What is it?"
"Are you going to man up, or do I have to smack some more sense into you?" Buffy seethed.
"Oh, that was you angrily hitting me?" I smirked. "I barely noticed."
"You are impossible," she glared. "Maybe I should hit you again."
"Maybe you should leave my fiancé alone?" Hana rumbled.
"Butt out of this, " Buffy started snapping at Hana only to be punched in the ear by Pamela.
"Hana is sacrosanct," Pamela commanded. "Cáel is fair game, she's not."
Buffy wanted to get physical with Pamela over this. She didn't stop herself because she felt Pamela was unbeatable. She stopped because Pamela was seated behind her and thus at the advantage. There was also the fact that Hana stood outside our social network. She hadn't signed on for the 'rough and tumble' aspects of Amazon society.
"Hana, I apologize," Buffy promised. "Cáel, 45 days, Bitch."
"Buffy is it? I'm not sure I accept your apology and what is with the '45 days', Cáel?" Hana rebounded.
"Ugh, Hana, in 45 days my internship would have been over and I proposed a little hunt as a Havenstone morale building exercise. I'm what the Amazons will be hunting,' I enlightened her.
Yeah, I could tell Hana was having a difficult time digesting that. Normally she thought I was rather quick-witted.
"Can you possibly survive this challenge?" she asked.
"Not likely," Buffy muttered, as she twirled her jaguar incisor between her thumb and forefinger.
"Tell that to the very delicious 'Hell-Pig' I killed and butchered a few days ago, my 'First'," I snorted back.
"You have someone else's memories floating around your head," she countered. "That's cheating."
"Who is the whiny bitch now?" I chuckled. Buffy looked away, then rubbed the ear Pamela had impacted. Buffy would get me, later.
"Someone else's memories?" Hana poked me, looking for some translation that made sense.
"Long, long story Hana. We don't have the time tonight," my kiss on her cheek bought me a respite.
The visit to Jormo Sulkanen's townhouse was awkward. Hana wouldn't permit a security sweep in advance of my visit. There was the added complication that Jormo's oldest son, his wife and their two children had decided to stay a few weeks with 'grandpa' after Brennan's funeral (the rapist asshat I had doomed to die at Amazon hands).
Hana added to the picturesque collage by gripping my left hand tightly in her right. The family was finishing up their dinner when we arrived.
"Father," Hana greeted her patriarch.
"You," Jormo growled upon seeing me. "What are you doing in my house?"
"I've come to ask your blessing on my seeking Hana's hand in marriage," I replied. That quieted everyone down. Jormo's wife Misty, the eldest son, and his wife appeared to be happy for Hana. Jormo's grandsons looked intrigued. Baby Karvala looked at me, decided I wasn't coming over to amuse her, and so went back to playing with her food.
I looked young and fit, yet of a sufficiently serious disposition and well-dressed enough to not be a gold digger. Before they could come over to express their feelings,
"I forbid it," Jormo snapped.
"Mr. Sulkanen, would you care to discuss this in private?" I offered.
Rocketing to his feet, he pushed his chair back so fast that it fell over before he had stormed out. I sought him out at a more causal pace. I wasn't insulting him. I was allowing him to put his mind in order before he punched me out.
"Sir," I said when I found him pacing in his living room.
"How dare you?" he glared. "How dare you even speak to Hana? You haven't the right."
"Okay," I nodded. "Get it out of your system. Hit me."
"What?" he seethed.
"No matter what I believe, you hold me responsible for Brennan's death," I remained calm.
"What I feel for Hana has to do with what she did for me and you that Saturday night, plus her aid in getting me through a very difficult mishap in my life. Hit me. Trust me, it will help." Jormo wasn't a prize-fighter. I saw the blow coming, bit down on my reflexes and took the punch to my stomach.
I tipped over, so Jormo hit me again, this time just behind my right ear. That hurt both of us. Hitting the skull isn't wise. I avoided falling forward, though I was staggered. When I stood back up, Jormo was still muttering curses in Finnish and shaking the hand that had impacted my head.
"I still hate you," Jormo grumbled, nursing his knuckles.
"I understand. I was able to see many of the men who murdered my father die before my eyes, at the hands of the police," I related. "I wish it would have made me miss my father less, but it didn't. I still miss him every day." Jormo allowed me to keep going, which was true progress.
"You are never going to forget what happened between me and Brennan. He was your son, your flesh and blood. You wouldn't be much of a father if you did let this slide, and Hana thinks the world of you and I think the world of her," I continued.
"Why is she marrying you?" he still sent waves of hate my way.
He didn't care why I wanted to marry his favorite child (well technically, step-child). What he wanted to know was what angle I was pedaling to Hana so that he would have an easier time talking her out of it.
"I have strong ties to the Khanate and I've been able to get a guarantee they won't nationalize your investments in the region," I informed him.
"He also arranged for our employees to get the Anthrax vaccine," Hana said from the doorway. The conversation could have gone a number of horrible ways. Terrorism, warfare, mass murder and regional instability were all possible weapons to beat me with.
"What did this cost you?" Jormo addressed me. Sulkanen clan welfare trumped global troubles.
"Nothing," I confided in him. "In fact, it elevated me in the eyes of those running the show. I told them that Hana and I were a pair, thus convincing them I have a vested interest in their success. I demanded that they protect Sulkanen interests in my name. That included the vaccines."
"Cáel is also arranging for some extra security for me when I go back to Kazakhstan," Hana said.
"So this is a financial game, " Jormo ruminated. "Why?"
"I pay my debts, Mr. Sulkanen. Hana fought you over Casper and the fallout from that. She helped me meet an important member in the Khanate a week ago.
This morning, when I was 'read in' to the Khanate plan, I was horrified. The lone, positive light in all of it was I suddenly had a chance to repay Hana. To do that, I had to convince them that Sulkanen property was mine by way of me marrying Hana, so here we are," I said.
"I do not forgive you," he clarified. "I never will. Hana, you are correct to agree to this proposal. You have my blessing."
"Thank you, Father," Hana started weeping as she slipped past me and embraced her Patriarch. "This will work out, I swear to you." He hugged her tight. Jormo hated me, but loved Hana and he could see a spark of happiness inside Hana's heart that he'd never seen before. This was probably not the time to bring up that I had three children on the way from three different women.
"Let me see the ring," Jormo huffed. He wasn't going to cry tears of joy in my presence.
"Cáel didn't give me a ring," Hana took a step back. "He gave me this." The necklace.
"Does it have any relevance?" Jormo looked past Hana at me.
"It is a family heirloom. It was given by a 2nd century CE Parthian princess to an emissary of my people, a cadet branch of my Hungarian side of the family," I stated.
"I know that sounds far-fetched, Sir," I sighed. "Of course, a 13th century Mongol-Turkish Khanate springing to life would have sounded rather unbelievable last week, as well." Pause.
"Could you have spared Brennan?" he asked me, while again staring at Hana.
"Yes Sir," I didn't hesitate. "I don't regret my choice either." He sent hate my way once more.
"I wasn't avenging Casper, Mr. Sulkanen," I refused to wilt. "That's a macho, bull-headed and stupid motivation. Nothing I could do would help Casper. What I couldn't do was turn away from the knowledge that she wasn't the first and she wasn't going to be the last. I'll take your hate. No man can hold that against you, least of all me."
"If I had insisted that Hana break of this engagement?" the Old Wolf drilled me with his intense gaze. "What would you have done?"
"Broken it off," I replied. "She is your daughter first. I would never stand between the two of you." He was finding it harder to utterly despise me. Hate me, yes.
The downside of being such a hard-ass was that Jormo knew that Brennan was terribly flawed. He'd paid the hush-money and futilely lectured his youngest son about being responsible. It was inevitable that Brennan would finally run into someone who couldn't be bought off, or forced to back down by the Old Man. That had cost Brennan his life, that was Jormo's pain to bear to the grave.
Hana was waiting on something. I wasn't sure what, but Jormo knew. He stepped up and put forth his hand. Neither one of us made it a death-squeeze. This was his sore hand and I wasn't out to make this moment any worse for him. We did the required two shakes then let go.
"Have you decided on a date yet?" Jormo asked as Hana moved to my side and slipped an arm around my waist.
My initial thought was 2016. Yeah, 2016, the late fall, or early winter of 2016.
"Certainly not before Christmas," Hana decided. "Maybe Valentine's Day?" she looked to me.
"How about the Spring Equinox, that is on a Friday, March 20th next year?" I suggested.
Hana hugged me. I wanted to curl up and die inside. The Man-Dog-Pig was not going to go quietly into that dark, monogamous night. Who was I kidding? This wasn't going to fly. All I had to tell Hana was that I was expecting three kids and that would be that.
Being a big proponent of putting off the romantically painful, I'd wait a bit. Maybe I'd put it in my Will; a kind of a post-dated apology letter.
"That sounds nice," Hana smiled. "Any specific location? Father married Misty in the Helsinki Cathedral." Hint, hint.
"Or we could use St. Stephen's Cathedral in Székesfehérvár," I tossed out there. Jormo and Hana were at a loss. "It is in Hungary." What I neglected to add was it was the traditional site for the coronation of Hungarian royalty for hundreds of years. "My homeland?"
"Oh," Hana allowed, then it dawned on her that I was an untrustworthy cad who loved hidden meanings.
She was going to Google that the moment we parted ways tonight.
"Try to remember this is Hana's special day," Jormo rumbled. It was good to know that two out of the three of us were sure I was getting married. Too bad, I was the odd man out.
"I will, Mr. Sulkanen. Now, I have intruded on your family time enough for now," I said. "I have to get on a plane for Europe at nine, so I need to be going."
"Where are you going?" Jormo poked into my life.
"Transylvania. Havenstone has some unfinished business there that my boss, Katrina Love, wants me to resolve. It is one of those learning-as-you-go assignments." I didn't lie.
"Do you conduct any normal business?" Jormo was clearly unsatisfied with my answer.
"Father," Hana put her foot down. "Let me see Cáel to the door and then we can talk. Cáel, I'll see you out." We left Jormo to mull over the vagaries of fate. We almost made the door before Misty, aka soon to be my Mother-in-Law caught us. My, my, my, she was hot. I could hear Dot Ishara mocking me. That reminded me,
"How did it go?" she asked us both.
"Cáel gave me this," she showed off her necklace, a mixture of pressed gold, lapis-lazuli with an onyx cameo of a woman with a long braid, who might have been my ancestor.
"I'm unconventional," I responded to Misty's confused look. "It's been in my family for quite a while." That satisfied her. Misty and Hana shared a familial hug. Misty definitely knew that Hana was her ally in the family.
"Have you heard from Casper?" Misty looked my way while still hugging Hana.
"She is in town seeing a specialist," I was pleasantly surprised that someone had asked. "Brooke, Libra and Casper met me for lunch." She and Hana released one another.
"Cáel, I, um, I love my daughter very much and I would like to think that if she was ever in trouble, there would be people like you, Libra and Brooke to look after her," Misty made her opinion known.
Misty had been perfectly aware of what a diseased parasite Brennan was, but had never been able to get Jormo to see it. She wasn't mourning the loss of her youngest stepson at all. There was no diplomatic response for that. I nodded and let Hana take me to the door.
"Cáel, " Hana struggled. I kissed her. I gave her the total Cáel full-body kiss experience.
Misty was still looking our way. Hana was caught off guard as I gave us a bit of sexuality to our otherwise sterile courtship.
"Whoa," Hana sighed when we finally came up for air. Her body was tightly pressed against mine and my body was certainly aroused by hers. "Mmmm, that was nice."
"Well, we can pick up from here when we get back," I grinned, then kissed her forehead. "I gotta go." The GL-550s were in front of the townhouse, engines turning over. I gave one last wave before boarding. No one said a thing for a while. I imagine I looked pretty discombobulated.
"We need to stop by my place," I told my driver, one of Velma's team.
"Why?" Buffy inquired. I noticed we were missing Pamela again. Shit.
"I forgot a promise I made to Dot Ishara," I gave a tired smile. When I heard Dot laughing I realized I had forgotten my fortune cookies. "It won't take me five minutes."
"I'm coming with you and Wiesława takes point," Buffy stated. She waited for me to push back.
"Do you agree?" Buffy inquired as we rolled to a stop, double-parked in front of my apartment building.
"Yeah," I nodded. "Buffy, this isn't an ego contest. If I think you are right, I'll go along with it. If I think you are wrong, I'll do my own thing."
(Endings and Departures)
We kept to the plan, although Buffy and I were all of five steps behind my Polish protector. Ten feet from the door, Wiesława waved us to take shelter. She pressed herself against the hallway wall next to my door. I took a peek out to see what spooked her. My door was almost, almost shut. Odette wouldn't be home for three hours. Timothy would never do that.
I pulled out my phone and showed it to Buffy, who ruminated over my silent strategy, then nodded. I dialed my home number while Buffy slipped past me, STI Perfect 10 automatic pistol drawn and moved along the wall opposite my door. Wiesława drew her FN-P90. It took four rings.
"Cáel," Timothy's cool reply had an undercurrent of anger. "What's up?"
"I forgot a few things, so I'm coming by in a few minutes. I figured I could grab you and Sovann, if he's hanging out with you tonight," I lied.
"Thanks. That would be great," Timothy began clueing in that I was worried.
"Your choices are #1 Thai, #2 Egyptian, or #3 German," I made some crap up.
"Thai sounds fine," Timothy answered. I hoped and prayed that meant one hostile person inside. I flapped my hand out, getting my two Amazons' attention. I tapped my heart, then showed two fingers, two friendlies. I made a fist (new number), then showed one finger, one hostile.
Buffy got Wiesława's attention then started a three count.
"Timothy, get down," I commanded as Buffy went from two fingers to one. One finger went into a fist, Wiesława pushed the door open and went to a crouch, weapon at the ready looking in. Buffy went to the other side of the door, pistol aimed over Wiesława's head.
"Don't move," Buffy said in a soft yet menacing voice.
Wiesława slipped into my room. I ran over to her positon while Buffy kept whomever she was aiming at in her sights.
"Down," Wiesława commanded. "Clear." Buffy went in and I followed.
My Polish guardian had Anima face first on the carpet, her knee on the evil bitch's ass and her barrel pressed into her shoulder blades. I shut the door. Buffy picked up a cheap-looking 32 cal. revolver and stuck it in her jacket pocket. That must have been the weapon she used in order to keep the much larger Timothy and Sovann as hostages.
My roommate and his boyfriend were still getting over having some crazy chick threaten their lives, only to have two other crazy chicks show up to save them. A quick pat down later and they had Anima on her feet, face to face with me. The pampered, perpetually-bored torturer was gone.
The creature before me still lacked anything approaching empathy, but she was worn ragged, her clothes were filthy and personal hygiene was a thing of the past. She had become a feral, hunted human animal, now at the end of her tether.
"Cáel?" Anima cast about fearfully, then, "Cáel! Cáel, please help me," she pleaded. "I'm so sorry about what happened to Casper. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please call them off." Casper? Anima wasn't sorry about what she did to Casper, nor was extending an ounce of sympathy for all her so-called friends she'd led off that moral cliff, placing them into early graves.
"Them?" I asked.
"The people, those women who've killed everyone else," she related desperately. "I've learned my lesson. Please make them stop. I'm the only one left."
"Your lesson was to get a gun and hold my roommate and my friend hostage?" I stared at her.
"I couldn't find you, and I was afraid of hanging around one place for too long, I had to hide here until you came back," she babbled.
"Anima, I'm about to leave the country on business," I studied her. "I came back here by accident. What would have done if I didn't come back?"
The answer was either she'd break down and call me on the phone, or she'd kill Timothy and Sovann and search for another angle.
"I would have kept running," she lied. She was a very good liar, except holding my friends hostage was an 'end of the road' ploy. Clearly, life had not ceased to be all about Anima.
My gut was to play the White Knight and save the damsel in distress. That would require me to forget the dead peripheral players in Anima's drama as well as Casper. I couldn't take the coward's path and do nothing either.
"Anima, do you recall that trip we took to Illusions?" I reminded her.
"Ye, yes," she sounded worried.
"Two things stick out in my memory. You said 'death isn't all it is cracked up to be' and you claimed to have never met a person who was untouchable," I recalled. "You don't seem to be scoffing at death and pain anymore, Anima.
You have also managed to meet someone you can't touch. I remain the Good Guy and I feel fine with my decision of leaving you to face the consequences of your choices," I stated deadpan.
"You are simply going to let me die?" Anima wailed. "How is that good?"
"It is the virtue of Justice," I told her.
"That is something you could never grasp, Anima. Good isn't soft. Forgiveness isn't a blanket license to commit evil, over and over again. It is a second chance for the worthy who have made a mistake. You are neither worthy nor did you make a mistake. You knew exactly what you were doing," I glared. "Shut up!", Anima had attempted to make another plea.
"Do you know what you could have done to save yourself? You could have made the last few weeks of your life matter by helping others. You could have exhibited bravery and charity, yet you chose not to. I'm not okay with all the resulting deaths. This brings me no joy. But my sorrow does not translate to me second guessing myself.
I'm willing to take responsibility for what has happened. I could have backed down, given in. I didn't. I met you half way in our moral challenge. You haven't changed and I'm fresh out of give. We remain where we were that Saturday, morally deadlocked. Good-bye," and I was done.
"Time for you to go," Buffy emphasized by grabbing Anima by the scruff of the neck.
"Cáel?" Anima made one more attempt. Buffy yanked her out the door. I was dealing with Timothy and Sovann.
"Sorry about this guys," I shook my head.
"You are not dull," Timothy admitted after a few seconds. He stepped up and we hugged.
"What is going to happen to her?" Sovann asked. He was still rightfully shaken up by the whole 'psycho girl with a gun threatening to end his life'.
"I don't know," I replied. "Buffy isn't going to kill her, but she's under a death sentence for orchestrating a gang rape of a girl after I specifically requested that she restrain herself.
Hell, if I thought that was going to be a one-time thing, I would have cut her some slack. Instead, she and her sick crew of rich, overly privileged friends chose to live beyond the law."
"So you are the law now?" Sovann stared intently.
"Yeah," I nodded, still in a partial hug with Timothy.
"I don't ask for a lot, Sovann. I do ask that people treat people with respect. If they fuck up, I ask them to not do it again. You are thinking 'who make me God?' and I don't have an answer to that. I do my best. And I have people like Timothy and Odette to kick me in the right direction when I stray. That's the best I can do, because doing nothing when you can make a difference is cowardice."
"Cáel, Sovann and I will discuss this after you go," Timothy intervened. "By the way, why did you come back?"
"Crap," I quick-stepped to my room, dug out two handfuls of fortune cookies from the box on my dresser, stuffed them in my pockets, then headed for the exit.
"Fortune cookies," I explained. "Now, if I am late I'll probably have to sleep with one of my aunts. Sorry again, guys," and out the door I went. Wiesława kept to my side as we went down to the GL.
"Buffy said she had business to take care of," the driver informed us.
Off we traveled to JFK International Airport and the O'Shea Boeing BBJ3 that was waiting for us. Some guy with an Irish brogue and some serious letterhead had the TSA wave us through the gate into a restricted part of the tarmac. Havenstone Executive Services had packed up my clothes and kit, as well as Wiesława's. Hopefully, someone had bought some extra clothes for Sakuniyas.
Daphne and Tigger were there to send me off, and to drive the Havenstone vehicles back to base. A quick hug and a kiss was all I could spare. I was cutting our departure window very close. For starters, this was my aunts' jet and that was made abundantly clear.
Staff wise, the pilot, co-pilot, chef (yes, the jet had a galley) and three flight attendants were all tiny cogs in the Illuminati structure. Each aunt had a personal assistant (always female) and a bodyguard (3 males, 2 females). As for my family, there was Aunt Deidre, who I did know and Aunts Kelly, Matilda, Imogen and Baibre, who I had last seen at Dad's wake.
Honestly, I felt like a heroin dealer walking into a drug den filled with five ladies about to fall of their '12 Step Program'. They may have all had the same genetics, but they all seem to have taken different paths. Kelly and Matilda were cold-hearted, ruthless, professional killers, which helped explain Uncle Lumpy's demise.
Deidre was sort of the referee that the other aunts didn't respect. Imogen was an up-beat and perkily impish sort with the heart of a medusa. Baibre was, nuts. The 'walks the hallways of the old manor house late at night having conversations with the portraits of her dead ancestors' kind of nuts. Definitely detached from reality.
On my team, I had Rachel's squad, Pamela, Sakuniyas and, of course, Wiesława. Delilah had sprouted a buddy, good ole Chaz Tomorrow, the guy Pamela respected more than me. Apparently the US government thought me running off to parts unknown was unhealthy. Both Virginia and Vincent of the FBI had joined us with Riki Martin in tow. Why? Not sure.
Our guide for our upcoming adventure, Selena Jovanović of the Black Hand, was here alone.
"Hi," I greeted the ensemble. "Sorry I was almost late."
"I see dead people too," Baibre gifted me with a lopsided grin and a sing-song voice. Sweet! Me seeing the restless dead was freaking genetic.
Then introductions went around, mutual animosity was exchanged and, as the 'Fasten Your Seatbelt' warning came on, the turf war began. Where was I going to sit? Rachel was adamant that I sit ensconced with my Amazons in the middle region. My aunts wanted me nearer to the rear of the plane, close to the curtained off sleeping areas.
I had one huge advantage over virtually everyone else on the plane, I regularly dated dangerous and somewhat unstable women. I joined my aunts after whispering a quick something in Rachel's ear. Five minutes after take-off, Kelly and I almost came to blows. She was, aggressive and demanding.
Having been down this road before, I derailed our conflict by calling her out. The fuselage of this jet wasn't ideal, but with the beds folded back, we could create a makeshift sparring area. This kind of sexual foreplay was new to Kelly, giving me an immediate advantage. I gave Kelly most of what she wanted, personal contact without sleeping with her, the reason I had the bedding put away.
Ten minutes into the bout, Matilda decided to switch places with Kelly. Kelly didn't agree but didn't want to start a catfight here and now. By the time Matilda was about to up our public display of affection beyond my acceptable levels, Imogen intervened. I was getting a definite 'cuddle' vibe from her, which I liked, though I doubted I was getting my shirt back on anytime soon.
Deidre called for a late dinner before we all crashed out.
"Where is your personal assistant?" Deidre inquired. I was pretty sure that she wasn't talking about Riki, who had already fall asleep, and she definitely didn't mean my Amazons.
"I don't have a personal assistant," I responded.
"Then who was the girl who delivered your luggage?" Kelly's gaze grew intense.
"Where is Cáel's luggage?" Rachel popped up. Matilda tapped her bodyguard and he led Rachel to the hatch down to the luggage compartment. Sure enough, there was my suitcase, travel bag and dress bag (for my suits). No bombs or tracking devices that they could discover.
Upstairs, I was getting the bad news vis a vis a description of my PA, Odette for sure. Damn it. Turning around wasn't possible. With the crowd we had, the unviability of surviving a trip in the cargo hold and the limited hiding places, we found Odette super-
quick. She had rearranged the storage in the galley and hid in one of the galley cabinets.
Odette was not a gymnast, or a contortionist. Delilah had to pull her out because her muscles were so cramped.
"Hi," she greeted me. "Don't be angry," she begged. I responded to that by banging my noggin against one of the overhead compartments.
I didn't ask why she did it. Odette had been living vicariously on the stories of my adventures to the point that she wanted to be part of the action, not a member of the audience. She was totally unprepared mentally and physically for the mission my team was embarking on. I couldn't ask anyone to be her guardian. That wasn't their job.
"I'll protect her," Sakuniyas spoke up. I was floored. Saku didn't like people, especially defenseless ones like Odette. The only person pleased with that announcement was Odette.
"Why would you do this?" I asked Saku.
"So I can later use her for leverage against you to help Alal," Saku stated.
"What?" Odette mumbled.
"Fine," I shrugged. "Odette, welcome to the ugly underbelly of barely constrained violence that I call home. This is what you have said you wanted. Live with it."
"But Sakuniyas is going to use me to hurt you," she protested. "Why can't Delilah protect me?"
"I have an assignment, Odette, and it doesn't include babysitting a civilian," Delilah told her. "Except for Saku, we all have jobs to do."
"Ms. Seibert," Virginia reluctantly joined in, "as a US citizen, I and Agent Loire will do our best to protect you."
"Do understand, our primary mission is to guard Ms. Martin and liaison with the law enforcement bodies," Vincent chimed in. Odette nodded.
"Sakuniyas, please do your best," I wasn't letting Saku, or Odette, off the hook.
"I do not make idle boasts, Ish, Wakko Ishara," Saku gave a shark-like grin. "Now, why don't you tell me more of Alal?" Fuck.
(Not the welcome we expected)
When my family's side and my companions finally settled down for some sleep, I was left wide awake, the memories of hundreds of years seeping into my conscious mind. These were amusing, frightening and sad. Grandpa Cáel/Alal had lived a life full of pain, both given and received. He spent an inordinate amount of time looking at children.
Since I had his memories, not his personality, I had to decipher their emotional context. The dominant themes were sadness, jealousy and anger. Immortality wasn't a future. Immortality was continued existence. And only through his eyes did I begin to see the difference. A family meant a future. Offspring meant a future. Sarrat Irkalli had stolen that from him.
Alal had tried fostering children. He had even adopted infants who knew no other father. It was always that same dark journey that he walked with everyone he ever loved. They died, either at the hands of his enemies, or from the passage of time. It became too much to bear, so he gave up trying to bond with humanity.
I had a newfound sense of sympathy for him. I was also terrified by the way his mind had evolved and was even more convinced I had to kill him, which was what he wanted me to try. Why? Fear. Having lived for so long and suffered so much, Phobos was a distant memory for him. He had experienced physical and emotional agony so many times that it had lost all reference to him.
Grandpa wanted to fight me, then he wanted to kill me. He couldn't bring order to humanity's perpetual state of chaos if he was finally, really dead. I had these memories from him, but not the actual experience. Maybe if I trained for 100 years, which was 99 fewer years than he was going to give me, I approach his skill. Aunt Kelly interrupted my introspection.
"Do you mind if I sleep beside you?" she asked. She was going through some minor tremors.
"Sure thing," I replied softly. I scooted over and held up the thin blanket I was sheltering under. Kelly snuggled in on the, it was a cot, not a bed. I cut through the confusion by letting her head come to rest on my right biceps (I was on my right side).
Kelly moved closer allowing me to run my hand from the top of her right thigh, along her hip then over to her back. As my fingers worked up her spine in a zigzag pattern, she started kissing me on the lips. Tongues played, chests pressed together and our legs intertwined. Kelly was athletic and vigorous, yet clearly driving under the influence, my scent was making her unstable.
Despite her ferocious nature, after stripping off her clothes, Kelly quickly rolled onto her stomach then brought her knees up in the classic 'ass up' sexual position. The last thing I wanted to do was to be a cheap replacement for Grandpa. When I was naked, I manhandled Kelly up and on top of me. There was nothing wrong with her instincts once she was there.
Kelly had my rod in her hand and was rubbing against her mound in a heartbeat. My aunt wasted no time letting the whole plane know she was in sexual bliss. I had a massive sexual legacy to live up to and Kelly gave every indication that one climax wasn't nearly enough.
I licked, sucked and teased every millimeter of her. She moaned from deep within her diaphragm in one long litany of limitless carnality. Kelly responded by giving me frantic kisses, bitten lips and twisting my nipples as she raced to her second peak. (There is no rest for the wicked.) Finally, Kelly shifted to a spooning position.
The second time, we were less frantic and more sensual. It was unhurried and pleasant; accompanied by plenty of kisses along her shoulders and neck. Our hands roamed over each other's bodies. I got Kelly to play with her orbs while I grabbed her hips and began. I told her I was close.
Kelly picked up her self-stimulation and started pushing her ass back to meet me. My bliss built up and up until I felt myself taking on the role of a fire hose in a five alarm fire. Blasts kept shooting out, strand after strand. My Aunt and I were panting like greyhounds at the end of an epic race. I was developing a positive view of our encounter.
She twisted her body around, I fell out of her and she positioned her body so that we were face to face once more. She also killed my happy. "Sex with you is far better than it ever was with Father," Kelly gasped. Killed it big time.
"I don't see you as Blood, Kelly. I see you as the wonderful woman you are," I lied to her.
(Cough) "Bullshit," (Cough) I heard from Pamela's direction.
"Hey, Old Lady," I groused. "Do you need a lozenge?"
"No," Pamela snorted. "What I need is for you to use a ball-gag on the next one you wear out. I think most of us are trying to get some sleep."
With some effort and consideration, I managed to add sex with Deidre to my rapidly lengthening list of post-collegiate sins. Unfortunately, being around my mother's sisters was dredging up all kinds of memories I wish I didn't now have. By the grace of Kimberly, my mentor, I had a strong impulse to remember every bit of information during a love-making session so I could build a picture of that lover's idiosyncrasies later.
While I may have been a lousy, cheating son of a bitch, I was a compassionate member of that breed and so 95+% of all my female memories were pleasant ones. But I now had a host of new memories, courtesy of Grandpa Alal (I had decided that I was going to be the one and only 'Cáel' in this family; fuck Grandpa and his seniority) that didn't mesh with my normal modus operandi.
These were his cold, calloused assessments of people, his own flesh and blood, as tools, biological devices designed for certain tasks. He was prepared to dispose of any of them at a moment's notice. I didn't have the emotional background for this discovery. I had only my love of women to guide me toward the truth.
To be continued.
By FinalStand, for Literotica