Hana shines and Aya rises.
Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.
“It is selfish to believe that your family will always love you. At some point you will be asked to earn it.”
My equilibrium decided to cut me some slack and not invoke the reflexive vomiting. "It is only me, Hana, Imogen, Deidre, Mom, Buffy, hi Juanita," I hadn't spotted my designated bodyguard standing behind Chaz.
"Don't talk to me right now," she seethed. "I'm furious with you." Yep, she was the Caribbean Buffy.
"Perhaps she's pissed about the five extra Illuminati bodyguards added to the regular two around Hana plus the two circling Ghost Tigers having not a fucking clue what those other armed parties are doing in Hana's company," Pamela joked. She could. Everyone else was giving me crap about my social gaff.
"Hey now. This meeting is important. Imogen and I are going to have a child," I enlightened them. The door chimed open and we piled in with two Amazons whose 'fresh' look indicated a use of the showers within the past ten minutes.
"You consistently maintain particularly low standards," Chaz dryly remarked.
"I sent her here for a check-up and that gave Buffy a chance to meet Mom, Deidre and Imogen, plus two unarmed bodyguards," I kept bailing out the Titanic.
"Chaz, I am happy we aren't going to miss this one (lunch)," Pamela smiled at her two grandsons.
"Cáel, are you going to tell your fiancée you've impregnated your aunt?" Chaz was back to being mildly sympathetic to my 'totally fucked-up' life.
"Yes. I figured Buffy shooting death rays at me from her eyes will garner me enough confusion to get the words out of my mouth without her throwing her drink in my face, slapping me, then storming out," I envisioned.
I got no more shit until I reached the garage for my vehicle. There an armed FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox (did you know when a Federal Agent adds 'Special' to their title it means they have a gun?) stood next to my chariot. She'd drawn the short straw, meaning she had been given the chore of driving today.
I found myself wondering when Yasmin would finally finish her orientation. Her training involved some serious mental challenges including a crash course from the FBI at Quantico concerning modern judicial theory & practice as well as whatever pre-Iron Age jurisprudence the Host practiced.
Javiera promised me (and Katrina) that she would not-so-subtly remind those scholastically-groomed legal minds that a (couldn't use the word 'Amazon') legal code they followed had existed, with minor tweaking, as a successful social instrument for over 3,000 years. If they truly behaved in a respectful manner, the owners of the code might even show those people the Codex on the original horse-skin, written in Hittite cuneiform.
Anyway, everyone assumed I had a good reason for heading to my apartment (aka need to retrieve a sleepy Odette.) Had I repeated 'the Bitch stole my fortune cookies', they might have simply taken me to an Asian-inclined grocery store. As we hit the second story landing, Chaz in the lead, we heard a passel of folks come down toward us from the fourth level.
I didn't think there were that many people on the entire floor. Chaz and Pamela each went for their holstered pistol, while keeping them hidden in their jackets. Wiesława, who went for her PDW, backed up so she could fire through the stairs from beneath.
Juanita, bless her heart, and Virginia had remained in the S U V because sending in more people would have left us piled into one another. If a firefight did break out, Juanita could bring in some serious hardware to back us up while Virginia called the appropriate authorities before rushing in herself.
Around the corner on the third floor landing came a number of women, early/mid-twenties, physically fit, foreign clothes and downcast expressions. A few looked like they were about to cry. They were all in shirts and jeans, with no obvious weapons. Not looking lethal didn't ratchet down Chaz's vigilance. Me? I was instantly reminded how much sex I had been missing.
"Prince Cáel! You are alive!" spilled out of the first one, a fiery red-head with a billowing, thick mane, porcelain skin and adorable freckles. Her Irish brogue was enchanting. I had to wonder if she cried out in Gaelic during orgasm. Wasn't I about to meet my future bride plus numerous other love interests?
She was fit, curvy and wearing an aqua shirt which exposed her midriff with a belly ring bearing a pearl drop, the requisite tattered skin-tight jeans and soft leather calf-boots.
"Why wouldn't I be alive?" I grinned, like a pirate discovering an all-girls school oceanographic classroom in need of plundering.
"How do total strangers know how unlikely it is that you would still be alive?" was Chaz's spin on things.
"We talked with your roommate. He said you had moved to Svalbard where you suffered an excruciating painful, yet richly deserved, death in a lemming stampede," she pouted, "and then the UN had your ashes exiled to Pluto because the Sun was too good for you."
9, 10, 11 --12 of them looking, 3 with pale blonde hair that eerily reminded me of my fiancée, another red-head, two russet and five with deep, dark brown, or black hair. They were all fit, fit, fit! With an air of 'I graduated college only to discover: 1) no one was hiring Saline Soil Scientists, or 2) I no longer want to do any of the things I wanted to do when I picked this major. I was familiar with both types.
Timothy would have been at work and Odette would have invited the troupe in to regale them with all sorts of tales, which would have included a tour of my bedroom. They clearly had missed Odette so, now I recalled; that particular excuse was one of the ten I had given the guy in 4B should anyone suspicious come calling.
I imagine twelve hot, English-as-a-Second-Language girls might be considered, a bit odd. See, his was my address of record. I lied about my actual apartment, so random people who came looking for me went to him instead. This arrangement had been made prior to my understanding of the nature of my employment at Havenstone.
I'd neglected, telling him to move out and go far, far away? Poor guy. I'd find a way to make it up to him later.
"Actually it was a southern vole immigration incident that was set off by the Bulgarian consulate offering repatriation for the first 10,000 applicants," I frowned, clearly traumatized by memory of the incident.
"These poor southern vole, native to the vacationer-friendly Black Sea resorts, were accidently introduced to the coldest inhabited place in the Northern hemisphere and they've been trying to get home ever since, that would be the equivalent of a century and a half in 'vole-years."
"Despite the UN trying to quarantine any news of this Cricetidae catastrophe, I decided to evacuate the six most critically injured vole using a Bortolanza Pluto ultralight, which he must have confused with the UN sending my ashes to Pluto," I explained.
Mind you, the 'southern' voles are native to, among other places, Norway, the owner of Svalbard. They were also native to the Bulgarian Black Sea coast so, The Pluto ultra-light, once built in Italy, is now called the 'Puma' and made in Canada, has a maximum range of 675 km, which would leave me crash landing into the Barents Sea, 260 km north of the northernmost airport in Norway, rendering me and my voles so much frozen food.
"You are an animal rights activist too?" several of the girls gasped. Yes. Yes I was. I was an animal and I was all for me having rights.
"Please, don't tell anyone about this," I grew serious. "I don't want my philanthropic efforts to be publicized. What I do, I do for the Earth's endangered ecosystems because it is what everyone should do, not because we suddenly feel bad about neglecting it."
"E haere koe ki te whai kia nui ai," Pamela snorted. I'd ask her why she knew Maori later, right after I figured why Grandpa knew it.
"Ko toku mahere whānui," I replied. The girls looked confused.
"I'm also trying to revitalize endangered languages and revive dead ones. It is more of a hobby than life pursuit," I informed them.
"You really are a modern-day noble warrior-poet," the red-head leader sighed.
"Nah. I'm just a guy," I shrugged. "Besides, Ba ch ir fear a bheith ar eolas ag a gn omhais, n a oidhreacht." (A man should be known by his deeds, not his heritage).
"Sa ch s go bhfuil misneach, t s il agam," she replied using my 'family' motto.
"Jos on jalot on toivoa,", "Ahol van b tors ga, van rem ny," and "cesaret olduğu yerde umut vardır," all followed. 'Where there is Valor, there is Hope' in Finnish, Hungarian and Turkish. I got the sneaking feeling this wasn't a college field trip gone awry. These chicks were coming at me with a purpose that included more than sexual gratification and a kiss good-bye. Ugh.
"Thank you," I genuflected, paying honor to their reciting of my personal vow. "Anyway, you appear to be looking for me, but I am afraid I don't know any of you. Taking into account that I have a late lunch date with my fiancée in a half-hour and will be taking notes at a feminist convention at 8, what can I do for you?" I was establishing my escape plan.
"We have come here to join you," an assertive, dusky-skinned one smiled. I had to think about this. I was a bit tired. Taking all twelve of these girls on in one orgy was currently beyond me. I'd do eight tonight and the last four before breakfast tomorrow. Ah, happy thoughts of the Lacrosse Finals.
"What exactly do you plan to do with Mr. Nyilas?" Chaz interrupted.
"We are the (Irish) 'Na conairte soith an S aghdha ar', (Hungarian) 'A szuka kuty kat Herceg Nyilas', (Turkish) 'Prens ok u Kaltak K pekleri' and (Finnish) 'Narttu koirista prinssi jousimies'," they chorused.
Pamela snickered. All of those fancy sounding names were variations on 'the Bitch Hounds of Prince Archer/Nyilas (with the Irish going for O'Shea).
"You want to be my bodyguards?" I gawked. Lacking lions, the Irish choice of the 'fur-balls of death' were hounds. Being women technically made them 'bitches'. I had to move fast. Any second now Wiesława was going to figure out these over-anxious non-Amazons were trying to replace her.
"You do realize I've left piles of dead bodies in my wake, right?" I nearly choked. Pamela slapped me on my back.
"Of course," they sounded so chipper. Fuck you Internet and 'First Person Shooter' games. This wasn't a fucking game! Trained combatants who joined my retinue met grisly ends and this was their freaking profession!
"Can I think about it? I mean, do any of you have any combat experience at all? Attacked someone in anger? Send off a blistering instant message?"
"Some of us have (combat experience I was assuming). We won't let you down."
"You do realize Ms. Dubois is going to kill them, don't you Sir?" Chaz sent me a chilling look.
"Ms. Dubois?", "who is that?" and "kill us?" floated around.
"Ms. Dubois is my blood-hungry ferret who wears a 'naughty berserker' human suit to trick the masses."
"Three of us have military training," one of the Finns spoke up.
By that they meant they had volunteered for military service in their native countries, then left after their first term because they found military life to be boring. On the 'plus' side, all but one had martial arts experience and six of the twelve had been a member of a Gun Club of some kind. Yep, Buffy was going to kill them, all twelve at once by herself.
"I'll make you a deal," I offered. Chaz was giving me his 'I'm a stone yet clearly unhappy with you' face. "At 7:15 tonight, you will show up at Havenstone. I will sign you in, we'll go upstairs to one of the gyms and then warm up for fifteen minutes. When you are ready, or 7:30 rolls around, we are going to the sparing mats. If I lose, you can stay. If you lose, you will write this off as one of a legion of ideas that look good in print yet are foolish in practice. Do you accept?"
"How many of us do you have to beat for us to join with you and your Crusade?" the lead Irishwoman asked.
"All of you. I will fight you all at once. The mat space is quite extensive."
"You mean all twelve of us against you at the same time?" one of the Turks blinked in disbelief.
"Yes. I am not disrespecting you, any of you. You've shown initiative, courage and a spirit of adventure. I found all three to be both admirable and worthy of reward (i.e. I will gladly have sex with you). What I am also telling you is of the three people with me, the only one I can most likely defeat in single combat is her," I motioned to Wiesława, "and I'm only saying that because she is 19 and relatively new to the art of killing."
Their eyes flickered to Pamela. Chaz was scary without even trying. Pamela could be threatening, or appear harmless, as she wished.
"Chaz is a professional military man from a long line of diligent warriors and in a branch of service that requires close contact with hostile individuals, teams, tribes, clans and nations."
"The woman behind me is much, much worse. I've met precisely three people who could possibly kill her and I killed one of them. Would you agree, Chaz?"
"Absolutely," he concurred.
"We know who you two are," a Finn spoke up. She had a dazzling smile and cleavage that had to obscure her toes when she stood.
"You do?" Pamela played nice. For once, it was technology biting her in the ass, not me. Yay?
"You are Rhingyll lliw Siarl Yfory," the Irish lass looked at Chaz. That was Welsh, and meant Color Sergeant Charles Tomorrow, I imagined his superiors in the British military weren't going to be happy with any of us, him being a 'secret military operator', emphasis on the 'secret'.
"And you are Sverkhsekretnykh Shpiona Vsemed Svaya," the Turkish girl pointed at Pamela. Pamela snorted. In Russian that meant 'Super-secret Spy Pamela Pile'. Since Pamela in Russia was pronounced 'Pamela' they had gone back to the origin of the name of Pamela, a fictitious 17th English novelist creation using mangled Hellenic, which translated as 'all-honey'.
'All-honey' in Russian was Vsemed. Pamela snickered. Oh yeah, those twelve had combed through millions of articles and pictures to figure out who Chaz was and who Pamela claimed to be. Actually, one of my Hungarian admires back when we were all in Eastern Europe had suggested Pamela was a remorseful ex-SMERSH agent turned Princely-sidekick. Pamela jabbed me, the unspoken 'sidekick' thing.
(For those who don't know, in Russian SMERSH loosely means 'Death to Spies', it really existed from 1943 to 1946 and was resurrected by Ian Fleming as a foil for James Bond.)
"Chaz, since Cáel is, without a doubt, already having a stupendously wretched day, we must insist he inform Addison of all three of these developments, in person. I want to see the look on her face," Pamela plotted with the man who had thrown himself between me and an explosive vest, probably out of some psychic impulse that I would suffer far, far worse later, like in today, within less than 24 hours of said act.
"Why am I here again today?" I lowered my head and groaned.
"Are you okay?" a dozen innocent voices cried out.
"We are here to pick up Odette," Wiesława reminded me.
"Oh yeah, fortune cookies," I mumbled.
"Is 'Fortune Cookie' a nickname for one of your other operatives? Many of them are real enigmas. We can't find out anything about her," one of the Hungarians said. Yeah, because SD doesn't have a Facebook page, or Twitter account. Odette, she was protected by a completely unremarkable lifestyle, but I had a feeling that was fading fast.
"Excuse us," I asserted myself. "I need to get something on the third floor. Chaz began pushing forward while Pamela had my back.
"What are you doing?" to me and "Hey, is that a gun?" to Chaz, then Wiesława. Pamela was too sneaky to get caught.
"I'm here to pick up Agent Fortune Cookie then head out to a meeting with some really shady characters and my fiancée," I informed them.
"Agent Fortune Cookie," Chaz mused. "She's going to love that,"
"And then," Pamela continued.
"She is going to want a gun," I groaned.
Oh goddess! No! Chaz had joined Pamela and my 'group think'.
"No, I have not," Chaz corrected me, about my mental ruminations.
"I've been coaching him," Pamela faux-consoled me. As my new prospective bodyguards parted for my current bodyguards,
"Do you have psychic powers?" "Where is your android?" and "Is it true you can have sex up to ten times a day?"
"Yes, but we can't talk about it," then, "Which one? We have six models," and finishing up with, "Yes, I can have sex up to ten times a day with each session lasting at least an hour, though I do need breaks for food, drink, quiet romantic conversations and showers, cause shower-sex is so damn fun."
While they mulled that over, I unlocked my door in time to see a nicely-dressed (as if she was about to go out on an expensive lunch date) Odette spring off the sofa. Looking at the crowd behind me, she blessed me with an incredibly happy smile.
"Oh cool! Do we really have enough time for an orgy?"
I wanted to cry.
(A Family FUNction, minus the 'fun' part)
My fiancée giving me a congenial and contented look. Good.
My fuck-buddy/friend Libra giving me a salacious 'you and me are going to hook up soon' smile while dressed in a red, 'business suite/slinky number' combo with a plunging neckline. I put her invite on my mental day-planner. Fellas, if you can't keep it in your mind, forget about it. Print equals pain, believe me.
Brooke had joined the lunch group, sharing a smile and wink with Libra with the secret agreement for a three-way. Sweet! I could do this, hmm, lunch break Friday, yum-yum-yum. She was wearing a beige business suit with slacks, minus the shirt. Only her cunningly cut jacket kept her goodies from exposure.
Hana was a saint for putting up with those two, and me.
Buffy was studying me with the clear desire to put me in a dog cage for the rest of the week. Technically she had to produce my body for work Monday. As for the hot, sweaty, intense Brooke-Libra-Cáel m nage trois, Buffy was reading the undercurrents and setting up a breakwater. At least her attire suggested well-paid, successful international assassin. I wondered if I had paid for her clothing as well. I'd given Chaz's wardrobe a serious upgrade courtesy of Pamela faking my signature.
The gathering was rounded out by Mom, Imogen and Deirdre. Thank God they all had different hair styles and forms of dress. Mom was in 'casual-durable' attire, Imogen was going with the military-chic and Deirdre's get up was in the same style as Hana.
I was pleasantly pleased that Hana had reserved two adjacent tables for what she assumed would be my support network, Pamela, Odette, Chaz, Wiesława and Juanita, plus Imogen's five and her (Hana's) two Illuminati minders. That made me squeezing my twelve newest over-eager admirers into the mix doable, if not comfortable. Better yet, none of the new girls was dressed for a restaurant this exclusive.
Hana was quietly amused. Buffy was volcanic. Thankfully she was being a volcano on the mid-Atlantic ocean ridge ~ submerged.
"Chaz, Pamela, explain," Buffy seethed.
"I don't work for you," Pamela playfully bantered back, "Sweet-Cheeks."
"They are part of a clandestine operation to provide cooperation and assistance from the European Union," I offered up in such a sincere manner. I almost had them. Buffy looked to Chaz who opted to channeled his 'inner- Cáel'.
"I can neither confirm nor deny their status as operators from four European nations," he nodded.
Buffy forked a helpless appetizer shrimp then catapulted at one of my Finns, I thought it was Oili. It bounced off her bosom. She couldn't even claim to not have seen it coming.
"What?" Oili gasped.
"Operatives?" Buffy sizzled at me.
"Prince Cáel," Flannery asked, "why did that strange woman throw a, shrimp at Oili?"
"It was a hand-eye coordination test," Odette informed her. "Had Oili been a real spy, you would have snatched up a nearby napkin, deflect the item with the napkin and all while drawing down on her. It is what they do all the time. It is pretty neat to watch."
"Why use a napkin?" Oili asked Odette while eyeing Buffy in case another decapod was coming her way.
"You use a napkin because the shrimp might have a contact poison on it," Odette rolled her eyes. "Buffy used a fork to flip it at you. She didn't use her hands, so the possibility existed." Pamela gave Odette an 'atta girl' high five.
"Prince Cáel?" Brooke giggled. "What have you been up to?"
"Okay. I got this. Ladies, may I introduce Annikki, Belgin, Berit, Flannery, Gizi, Ilkay, Kato, Neve, Nuray, Oili, Pirkko and Zsuzsi. These fine women have decided to put their productive lives on hold so they can be my bodyguards," I made the introductions.
"They have volunteered to be, basically the 'Hounds of Prince O'Shea/Nyilas/Archer'. My Hounds, please let me introduce Hana, my fiancée, Brooke, my close friend, Libra, a sweet & sincere childhood acquaintance, my Mother, Sibeal, my O'Shea aunts, Deidre & Imogen and Kalmarasērmi Buffy."
Despite the absurdity of the situation and my clear irresponsibility, Buffy let a smile crease her frown. 'Kalmarasērmi' was my term for her in the Amazon language = my Mountaintop.
"I will volunteer my facilities to train them," Aunt Imogen offered me drolly. She was the primary trainer for all O'Shea guardians/Special Forces.
"Train us?" a half dozen voices murmured.
"Yes Child. I am Imogen O'Shea, Cáel is the greatest treasure in my life and I have serious doubts any of you can be anything more than distracting bullet-catchers for my favorite (and only) nephew. It annoys me to think you are yet another walking advertisement showing him to be both big-hearted and soft-headed."
"I will offer prayers upon the mounds of my ancestors (lie, her only 'ancestor' refused to stay buried) for Cáel’s safety. You should invoke whatever supernatural entity you place faith in to keep Cáel safe as well, because if he gets so much as a scratch defending any one of you, I will exercise my nearly endless knowledge of human pain to make you pay."
"Is she Ms. Dubois?" Flannery asked Odette.
"That would be me," Buffy showered fury their way.
"Do you really want to kill us?" Neve tried to stare Buffy down.
"Until ten seconds ago, Yes. Now I want to hand you over to these two," she motioned to Deidre and Imogen with her fork.
"Prince Cáel, why are they all so hostile?" Flannery requested understanding from me. "We have come here to help you. We have skills. All we are asking if for a chance to prove ourselves to you."
"To Us," Buffy snapped. "Cáel’s vote doesn't count."
"Chill, Buffy," I snapped back. "I'm dealing with this, and your lack of trust is pissing me off."
"Buffy," Hana intervened. She placed a hand on Buffy's thigh out of sight, yet not outside of my notice. "When was the last time Cáel failed to take your advice on something life-critical? These young ladies appear to be honest and diligent. If not, Pamela and the Color Sergeant wouldn't have let them come here, or near Odette."
If I dated dumber women I would have less explaining (lying) to do, but I'd miss the challenge both inside and outside the bedroom. Hana's deft touch and gentle words calmed Buffy more than anything (outside of a righteous cocking) I could have accomplished. I was suddenly seized with the realization there was a goodly number of Katrina's positive attributes in Hana. How had I missed it?
"Marrying you is going to be Hana's first step toward mortal beatification," Brooke teased me. Normally only dead people were made saints.
"A Servant of, probably not Jehovah. I think everyone at the table can agree she has interacted with supernatural forces," Sibeal hid her joking well.
"Martyring her hopes of monogamy?" Deidre's fey gaze flickered over the women of note (the women at the main table).
"Her Heroic Virtue is Prudence?" Buffy added. Buffy had been Catholic?
"Ladies, I'm Lutheran. We don't normally venerate saints. Joking aside, I was given a reason to believe this lunch date was important on a social level between myself and my fianc . Food would be nice too."
Brooke and Libra's presence regulated Pamela and Chaz to an adjacent table. A waiter slipped in, took my order, I decided to forgo an appetizer because I was late, then the conversation began.
"Hana, this is my Mother, Sibeal Nyilas. Imogen and Deidre are my family from Ireland," I made the introductions, most definitely unnecessarily. I was buying time to get a better read on the women around me.
"I know," Hana showered me with mature compassion.
"Get to it, damn you," Buffy huffed.
"Wow, I'm thinking of the best way to tell you this," I barely could meet Hana's eyes.
"I am pregnant with your fianc 's child," Imogen cut to the chase. What she said was delivered on purpose. Imogen wasn't as socially maladjusted as Rachel. The fewer women in my life, the easier the O'Shea would have roping me in. Imogen's words were meant to hurt Hana and drive a wedge between us.
"You too?" Hana's sad eyes studied Imogen. She hid her anger-disappointment-disgust well. In this crowd her efforts to obfuscate her feeling only worked on Libra and Brooke. Those two ladies were less astute at concealing their surprise.
"She's your aunt, right?" Libra's look settled on me instead of a blatant Imogen, or a pained Hana.
"No," Mom answered for me. "My sisters and I were born sterile. It is impossible that our paternal heritage has been passed along. Whatever Imogen's maternal contribution was, it is not from our DNA. My sister does have a child inside her, Havenstone verified it and will have the precise genetic make-up within 24 hours," she persisted (lying).
"If Cáel has a failing, it is that he was seduced by my sisters who played upon his very confusing Mother-Son relationship. I faked my death when he was seven. I 'died' in a quite painful manner and he had to watch helplessly as he witnessed me wasting away. I did such a horrible thing to a young boy because the people who were hunting me down, the two O'Shea before you and the nine who aren't here, would have used numerous means of torture to verify my death."
(Until they realized 'what' I was. Then my imprisonment would have begun)
"My wonderful husband would have died without giving them the truth. It was too much to ask of our son. For fifteen years he believed me dead. He learned the truth at his Father's funeral. I believe every woman at this table knows my son doesn't handle emotional pain well."
"Imogen's statement was a thinly-veiled stab at Hana's heart and a kick to my son's sense of responsibility to both Hana and his unborn child. How could this not hurt Hana? How could Cáel possibly respond, torn between the woman who has already sacrificed so much of her happiness for a man barely aware of his own maturity, and the woman bringing his child into the world?"
"Good one, Imogen. Those two are better than you, or I. By all means, make a mockery of my son, your nephew, who has pledged to fight for your life when he should clearly walk away and let the rest of you die. He asks nothing of you yet you feel no remorse at sullying his happiness."
"There are ten good reasons for you getting up and walking out of here intact right now. There are six better reasons for making you pay for your cruelty," she threatened.
"Ten?" Brooke whispered.
"The sisters' five bodyguards, the two body guards they gifted me with, Deidre, Imogen and Cáel. You don't think he would let the woman bearing his child take a beating, do you Brooke?" Hana enlightened her.
"No."
"The Six?" Libra scanned the room.
"My other two bodyguards won't act unless I am directly threatened. They won't be out to hurt anyone. If anyone tries to hurt me, they will jump straight to the making them dead option. The 'Six' are Buffy, Pamela, Chaz, Juanita, Special Agent Maddox and Sibeal."
"We'd help," Libra insisted. Brooke was onboard with that proclamation.
"No," came forth from Hana, Mom and me.
"Brooke and Libra; you two, Odette, the other twelve and the wait staff will only confuse the issue. My sisters and their soldiers will use you and the rest to distract Cáel. Except for Ms. Maddox, the rest won't give a fuck so your best bet is to hit the deck and let the professionals deal with things," Mom clarified.
"Brooke, Libra, this is a wacko chicks with guns moment," I put things in perspective.
"Hana?" Libra put a hand on Hana's shoulder.
"Don't mind me," she patted Libra's hand. "I'm diving for cover and not getting up until you, Brooke, Cáel, or Buffy tell me to get up. Sorry Sibeal, but I don't know you that well yet."
"I understand," Mom agreed.
To punctuate the awkwardness of the moment, Aisha (the Arabic swimsuit model) and three other SD ladies waltzed into the place and took a table. When the maytre dee tried to impede them, Aisha threatened to exterminate his entire extended family with a look alone. Been there, done that, and the maytre dee was nowhere close to being in my league.
I had to think that through. Had Buffy called them, the SD would have been here before I arrived. Pamela was a possibility, except the SD still hated her over Constanza's maiming. If she told them my life 'was' in danger, they would still show up. My life wasn't in danger and Pamela wouldn't yank their chain.
It had to be Juanita. The head of my bodyguard telling Elsa that I was in an exposed position with 9 armed Illuminati would have elicited this level of response. Pamela prodded Odette. Odette had a 'what do you want me to do' non-verbal exchange with Pamela then got up and went over to Aisha.
Odette even remembered to navigate the room in such a manner Aisha and her team could keep an uninterrupted view of the threat. Pamela and Chaz's lessons were paying off. They weren't training her in the lethal arts. They were showing her how to not be an obstacle, which was better, given our current circumstances.
"Hana, don't hate Imogen. The only parent she's ever known was Granddad," I returned my attention to the crisis at hand.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hana sent sympathetic waves Imogen's way. If there was a hint of 'you bitch' hidden within those words, none of us would admit it.
"Yes, yes," Imogen smiled back. "Father was a real troll."
"That's not true," Hana responded. "I've met him and he has always been very nice to me. It was easy for me to look past the nations of dead he's murdered, his propensity to rape his daughters and his plans to destroy my Cáel."
"I don't hold you to blame for not protecting Cáel more than you have. He's a handful and reminds you of your Father, the mass-murdering rapist. And Imogen, don't try to hurt Cáel using me again, you Bitch. I'm not a part of your circus. That doesn't render me powerless. I love more than I hate. I count a person great by the lives they save, not those they take. Where there is Valor, there is Hope and my fianc has both in spades. Do we understand one another?"
"Proving you are smarter than Ms. Sievert is not something which equates to being a threat," Deidre countered.
"Cáel, why aren't you saying something?" Brooke whispered to me.
"Because he knows better," Mom grinned. "This is a battle Hana has to win, or lose, on her own."
"Cáel has plenty of women willing to go behind his back and kill people, Brooke. Now, if Hana asks for such a favor, we know it is not over some petty bullshit," rolled menacingly forth from Buffy as her feral countenance made a few of the Illuminati at the next table nervous.
"That won't be necessary," I broke up the tension. "We are as dysfunctional a family as they come, but we are family and we will all treat one another as such by the standards of the only one who matters. Clear?"
"You?" Deidre soothed me.
"No. Ferko Nyilas', my Father and the best man I've ever known. He taught me to never make excuses for your own behavior. Surrendering our control over our lives is a cop-out. If you want to continue acting like the creepy-ass bitch daughters of Cáel O'Shea, so be it. That is your choice to make. I care for you."
"I care enough for you to fight Granddad over your futures. I hope all of you know I mean what I say. Whatever you decide to do, no matter how you act, I will always love you. I've made my choices and I am going to hold you responsible for yours. Let's eat lunch. It has been a rough fucking day and it isn't over yet."
If there was ever any doubt, I destroyed those twelve hopeful bodyguards on the mats. They possessed neither the skill nor the savagery necessary in a warrior culture. We Amazons didn't recoil from pain. Our sisters' lives were on the line. That was why you practiced no-holds-barred fighting with, or without, weapons.
"We can learn," the lead Finn protested. The rest were getting over the physical and spiritual pain of being so easily beaten.
"My normal bodyguards go through three years of intense 24/7 training. Being a member of that elite body means you train in all forms of weapons as well as hand-to-hand combat techniques."
"Once you've mastered the core physical and skill baseline requirements, and this core training never stops, no point is considered 'good enough', you begin learning at least two specialties. Those are disciplines such as close-protection, sniping, small unit tactics, infiltration, battlefield medicine, electronics, computing, communication systems, linguistics and 'training' expertise."
"In my current team, the ones who fought at my side in Hungry and Romania, all have three specialties. Discounting their regimen since the age of five, each had been on the job in a professional capacity at least six years. The leader had eleven years in."
"Finally, when you are at that level of excellence, you need a specific mindset. What you need to do is think why you shouldn't kill someone, not if you should. If there is any doubt, you strike. If you hesitate, someone close to you might be killed, not just me."
"Look around you. If you aren't ready to kill for any of your companions, you will never cut it. Now, I'm going to have you shown out. I will have taxis take you back to your hotel. Think about it. Seriously, think about dedicating yourself to more than some stranger you've met on the internet."
"You will be dedicating yourself to the other elven women in your group, to the death. That is the level of spiritual dedication it takes to be at my side. Go, take a rest, talk it over, search your souls. Call me if any of you want to continue and we can have lunch Sunday and make plans. Questions?"
"Do the other women around you do this, make those choices?" one of the Turkish women frowned while nursing a bruised jaw.
"No. They have it worse. They have thrown their old lives away, never to return. Each and every one has either murdered a human being, or attempted to, before they are even considered for the task."
"Under normal circumstances, we wouldn't be having his conversation. You would never be given the chance. You are woefully unqualified in every way except spirit. Your willingness to cross the Atlantic to make your offers resonates with me, so I am both warning you this is horrible, horrible path you are taking and I am explaining precisely how slender any of your chances are of accomplishing your goals."
"I, I don't know," whispered one of the Hungarian lasses.
"At the Seven Skulls, I led three such women into combat (Rachel, Charlotte and Saku) against a group of warriors who were fighting free of 500 elite Romanian Mountain Troops. Of the Romanians, nearly 200 were either dead, or wounded. The FBI Special Agent we took with us was badly wounded.
"One of the three was killed, a head shot, and the remainder left her body where she had fallen because the enemy were still out there and they had to protect me. The world will not bend to your sensitivities. Life around me is exceedingly dangerous and unforgiving," I finished.
No immediate consensus united them. Fear and disbelief were the major vibes I was picking up. None of them were angry, insulted, or overly terrified.
"Time for you to go," Buffy concluded our meeting. "Tigger Maeve and Dora Farānak, would you please see Cáel’s guests to the lobby." A new pleasure of Buffy's was using the House names of the Full-bloods she interacted with.
I have taken a few mystic liberties:
Maeve was a Celtic War Goddess ~ the Enslaver of Men.
Farānak was a Scythian Goddess also known as the Lynx Goddess and the Silent Huntress.
As for the other new hires:
Daphne was, as explained earlier, of House Cotyttia (Thracian Goddess of Sex, War and Slaughter)
Fabiola was of House Minerva (Roman Goddess of War & Strategy)
Violet Maza was in House Oshun, the Yoruba Goddess of Love, Sexuality, Beauty and Diplomacy; Lady of the Orisha ~ life spirits.
Paula Wadena was of House Cybele (Phrygian Earth Mother, Guardian of the Lion Throne)}
They were dismissed and smart enough to know that was the best possible answer to their current predicament, learning your romantic adventure was actually a gory supernatural battle for survival. A growing number of Isharans had been gathering while I dealt with the wannabes. A few were amused, perhaps even understanding, of my actions.
Soon enough, using her position as Record Keeper of House Ishara, Helena cajoled the other Amazons into giving us peace and quiet. Not all left. Watching a jury-rigged House Ishara work through its business in a semi-public setting was an event both unlooked for and possibly enlightening.
For this gathering, we had 122 of the 159 members. The missing members were not close enough, or were providing a critical function that wouldn't allow them to be in New York on this night.
"Sisters, a moment of personal prayer for each of us to seek guidance from our Ancestors as we seek to continue their legacy," I intoned softly, calling the meeting to order.
I had barely opened my eyes, failing to get any inspiration from Yakko, when the struggle began.
"Why are we including them in a House Ishara meeting?" Madori pointed out the three 'new hires' who were sticking around.
"Memasant (Amazon for to speak true)," I answered her. Since Daphne, Paula and Violet had clearly been sitting among us before the meeting began, I gave Buffy a disappointing frown. "Ishara respects these three for teaching the rest of you the Amazon language so that we can teach it to others, thus all of you becoming able to engage all our sisters in our native tongue."
"I doubt any other House would extend this honor to others. Thankfully, we are not like any other House. We know better. We have all been outsiders. We aren't a 'normal' House and I am working toward us never being one. We have to be kind and just when necessary, and forgive when it is what the Host needs."
"We will do this because we Isharans alone will decide on the prestige of our sisters. If the other Houses make an issue of it, who cares? None of them have made the sacrifices necessary to be Isharans. I know that you have not all gathered here tonight to hear me pontificate. Who wants to be first?"
"Will you accept a challenge?" Madori stood up. We had spread out in a ring, two Amazons deep, along the edges of the mats. I had never sat down.
"Put forth your complaint," I responded.
"You emphasize duties other than that of a House Head. You don't take the time to show up at initiation ceremonies. In essence, you ignore your sisters to advance your own prestige."
"Yes, I am not showing up at the initiation ceremonies."
"Yes, I prioritize other activities over running the day-to-day operations of our House."
"Yes, you are utterly ignoring the two Amazons sitting at either side of me. I chose Buffy Ishara and Helena Ishara to lead this House because I knew I would have others issues coming up in my life concerning the Host."
"Buffy, are you challenging me?"
"No, Wakko Ishara," she responded angrily. She wasn't angry with me. She had chosen the majority of the assembly and they were turning on me, thus her.
"Helena, are you challenging me?"
"No Wakko Ishara. I am intimately familiar with your work and the dangers you constantly confront for the greater Host," she answered in an equally hostile tone.
"Now that the issue of relevance has been dealt with, I will accept any challenge from any of you selfish, bigoted, power-hungry cunts who wish to put your own self-interest above that of our House. By all means, stumble over one another for the top spot," I mocked them. I'd played nice. No more.
It was telling that my classification of any challenger was completely ignored. Madori and five supporters stood. In theory, challenges were the rare 1-on-1 Amazon experience. Another Amazon, Arianne, stood with another supporter.
"Cool beans," I nodded.
I backed up, stepped off the mats and picked up the four axes I had pre-prepared. Back on the mat I went past my handful of supporters, brandished two weapons and advanced a quarter way onto the sparring area. The mass of my opponents muttered in confusion and resentment.
"Ishara, we have not trained in archaic weapons. Most of our facilities never had then," Madori protested.
"Amazons don't play fair," I glared. Several migrated to the walls to pick out whatever looked the least daunting. Buffy, Helena, Marsha, Daphne Cotyttia, Violet Oshun and Paula Cybele did likewise.
"Is this how you want to answer a challenge for leadership?" Madori glowered. "Cheating, utilizing a clear advantage in a farce of equality and justice?"
"No. Please step back and call every member of JIKIT," my eyes narrowed. "How about this, call the Amazon's contact with the Earth & Sky? Can't do that either? How about convince the 9 Clans to help us pursue a House obligation?"
"You duties as Chief Diplomat are not that of Isharan House Head and actually make you less of a House Head," she countered. She had chosen a short spear, using it two-handed. And that made Katrina what precisely?
"I should fucking kill you," Buffy snarled.
"Madori Ishara, Dot-Ishara is not the Goddess of Scrabble. She is not the Goddess of," and Madori tried to catch me flat-footed with a spear-thrust. I was appalled at how easy I dealt with her. My right axe diverted her spear enough so when I twisted my stance, she missed. I placed the head of my left axe on her shoulder, blade against her throat.
"Madori, you lose. Sit back down and contemplate that you were beaten by a 22 year old man," I seethed. There was no 'you didn't give me a chance' bullshit. She had struggled for advancement in the Amazon way. Such people weren't crybabies. "Next."
Arianne approached me with a shield and short sword. My read on the situation was she was going to use acrobatics to compensate for my superior reach. I readied myself.
"I don't suppose you would accept a suggestion we fight unarmed?" she put out there. I took two steps toward her then dropped my axes.
"I trust you," I looked down at her. I could see the 'oh, fuck me' written all over her face. The unfairness had been tossed in her lap. She put the point of her leaf-shaped blade under the left side of my ribcage, close to my kidney.
"Yield."
"Never."
"Yield, or I will kill you."
I took a quarter-inch penetration when I clamped down on her right wrist and slammed my elbow into her face. A quick exchange of footwork ended up with both of us on the mat, Arianne on her back, sword pinned to the mat and her shield trapped between us. Head-butt followed head-butt until she was unresponsive.
I stood up, blood oozing down my side.
"Water!" I barked. A bottled water was rolled my way. Three more Amazons were sizing me up. This challenge phase was far from over. I splashed water down on Arianne's face until she sputtered into wakefulness.
"Pathetic," I sneered at her. "This House is worth any and all of our lives. If you were the best candidate to lead this house and I refused to yield, then why did you spare me? Not only could you not kill me when you clearly could, you failed to do so even when it became an unequal contest of arms."
Arianne was shamed and furious. I was treating her like a presumptuous, outsider woman.
"I'm feeling particularly generous in victory, Arianne, don't you dare stand up," I growled when she tried. "I will not kill you for your disrespect. I will not exile you from our House because doing so would show both of us failing to grasp one of the key principles of our People, learn. Learn and keep learning. A loss is nothing more than a temporary setback. Learn, don't repeat the same mistake twice and never stop striving for success until you take yourself to the cliffs."
One of the two newest challengers was prepping her rush. I drew my other two axes.
"Wait your turn," I pointed an axe her way. "The rest of you, you planned this meeting so you could overcome your disgust and condemnation over having a male be in charge of House Ishara. Don't bother lying to me, or each other."
"Your crappy performance is utterly irrelevant?" the challenger showered me with hate. As I have previously noted, telling a woman that she is clearly delusional by pointing out her delusions is rarely accepted in a positive manner.
"Have it your way. The sheer stupidity of your actions speaks for itself."
She moved forward. Much like Arianne, her tactic was to close in enough to turn this into an unarmed martial contest. I didn't know her name, yet could tell she hadn't joined House Ishara via her spectacular battlefield performance. She was undoubtedly bright, diligent and absolutely top notch at whatever post Havenstone had placed her in. Lecture time.
"Here begins the lesson," I danced away from her initial rush. "If you believe that I am nothing more than a prophetic hiccup in Amazon mysticism and not the true heir of Yakko Ishara, please raise your hand" I said to the room at large. Few did.
"Liars," I mocked them. I batted a few more of her attacks aside.
"Having refused to accept the window-dressing of my heritage, you have decided I am nothing more than a fortuitous aberration you are using for your own personal advantage. That is the only logical assertion that takes into account all the events of tonight," I kept lecturing them. "And you couldn't be more wrong."
"Stand still, damn you," my latest opponent hissed. I slipped right when I should have twisted left. I dropped the back of my axe-head on the top of her skull, dropping her like a puppet with its strings cut. The next one hopped up. Buffy's animalistic rumblings of pure rage were clearly audible. This one was going with the long spear and it looked like she had some talent. She was no Elsa and for this, she needed to be.
"Put your spear down and accept my judgement," I made eye contact with the newcomer.
"Why?'
"I'm not going to tell you. Go with your gut," I advised. I could see her weigh her options. She surprised me by placing her spear down and retreating from the mat.
"Why did you do that?" the woman next to her snapped quietly.
"I don't know," the latest challenger furrowed her brow.
"You did it because we have all been here before," I filled in the answer. "You were never Runners. Had you been alien to the Amazons, you would have faced the same fate as Alicia at my Father's gravesite."
"She was rejected by Ishara, not me. Ask any of the other twenty-one who were present. I burned my damn finger trying to get Ishara to take her in. It didn't happen. I've been thinking about that for the past few months. I think I now know why it happened." Miraculously, I had their attention.
"You never joined House Ishara," I scanned the whole assembly. "House Ishara found you. Generations ago you should have joined House Ishara except the gates had been closed. Your ancestors couldn't reach out to you because their mortal kin had perished without heirs. For fifteen hundred years, Isharans have been born, lived and passed on because no one was around to open your eyes to your place in the world."
"I am absolutely positive every one of you has fought, struggled and bled to be in this room, listening to my diatribe. So did Alicia. For those who know her, do you think she was lesser than you by any metric?" I let that sink in. Those who knew Alicia were mulling my words over. Those who didn't were studying the ones who did.
"Please examine your hearts and give me a reason why she and hundreds of equally qualified Runners are not here, and you are? Have you won a game of Texas hold 'em? The Pick-5? Do you think your other sisters drew your name out of hat, threw darts at a dart board, or did a random inner-house personnel search?"
"I'm waiting for someone to tell me I'm a nut, insane, or just plain wrong."
Nothing.
"You are here because you were born Isharans, grew up under Dot-Ishara's cruel tutelage and fortuitously lived in a time when the doors to our Ancestors were finally reopened."
"Former Runners? There, is, no, such, thing! You have always been Isharans. And only now is the rest of creation becoming aware of it," I stated in a clear, decisive voice. Kimberly insisted I take that course in Public Speaking so I could recite the words of long-dead kings in an authoritative voice. It was paying an unpredicted dividend now.
Except for the 3 non-Isharans, everyone in this room grew up in a scientific, predictable world. If any of them participated in a religion, they didn't expect any reaction to their worship. Faith was a word to whitewash the unknown. Havenstone had made no effort to dispel that way of thinking.
Yes, they knew they were living on the periphery of a 3,000 year old feud against male-kind. When given the decision to either believe 1.) there were thousands and thousands of ancestors and fifty-plus goddesses watching over them, or 2.) they belonged to a cult with a seriously weird backstory, they chose the 'reasonable' explanation.
It wasn't like the membership in that worship system were reaching out to embrace new members. The faith the full-Blooded Amazons had was part of their mistress's uniqueness they shared with one another while excluding their new 'sisters'. Such an infinitesimal number of Runners had been embraced by the faith, so what else were they supposed to believe in?
Only now, they were being asked to embrace without question what all Full-Blooded took for granted. Mysticism was integral to Amazon life. They knew their Ancestors were watching over them. They knew their Matron Goddesses prepared an Afterlife for them. They lived and died with iron-clad faith in that. They taught it to their daughters, who passed it on to their children. This process went back 150 generations.
"Do you, do you really speak to the Goddess Ishara?" Madori asked, twisting her logical mind about the conundrum of my words: 'why her and not Alicia'? What had Alicia done wrong? Until I spoke on the matter, she had shoved such worry to the back of her mind. She was in a First House, which was the new center of her existence.
"Yes," I replied. I bit down on trying to insert a joke into this seriously spiritual moment.
"What does she tell you?" Madori uttered the words, but they were echoed in the face of every Isharan in the room.
"The messages vary. I have vomited out more blood in one session than I have in my entire body, ask Buffy. I have been told to sleep with an Augur. Later she, Dot Ishara, told me Tad fi, the Augur, was going to die in premature childbirth and there was not a damn thing I could do about it. 'Why' I had to put an Isharan heir in Tad fi has not been explained to me and probably never will."
"She likes fortune cookies. She is jealous of the Goddess SzelAnya because that goddess has saved my life, twice. Dot Ishara has also intervened to save my life too. Of greater importance to me, she has spared Aya Epona when I begged for her help," I kept going. I had their rapt attention now.
What I was saying you couldn't put into a handbook, or normally pass from the uninitiated to the uninitiated.
"I have hated her for some of the misery I have committed at her request. I have served her without explanation because I acknowledge I am Ishara, Wakko Ishara, and this is what we Amazons do, fight for our Matron Goddesses."
"Our reward is pain and suffering. It is daughters and sisterhood. It is raising our young and taking comfort and giving comfort on the night before we take ourselves to the cliffs when our time comes. All our sisters who have passed before us are waiting to take us to our true home."
"No matter what else happens to us, we will never be alone again. In this life and the next, we are bound by more than blood and oaths. We are bound by a common destiny and a unifying goal. That goal is the Will of Ishara.
"And that is why you anger me so tonight. Not one of you has suggested I have not been true to Dot-Ishara, to Yakko-Ishara and to every Isharan who is and has ever been."
"A proper challenge is made when your House Head has betrayed your House and/or the Host."
"You challenge them after you have set forth your grievances and your House Head has failed to successfully address them.
"Instead, why are you any of you challenging me?" I glared my displeasure over them. "Don't answer that. Don't bother. We all know it is because I have a cock. Not one of you has challenged the legitimacy of my bloodline. Not one charge of treason has been leveled against me."
"By the Goddess!" I thundered. "Who here doesn't know what I do for the Host on a day to day basis? If you don't know, have you ever considered asking someone who might? Despite the disrespect you have shown me and the Goddess, have I ever challenged any of your selection for joining in a House I lead?"
"Of course not. I serve Ishara, as should you all. I have shown all of you absolute faith and honest solidarity. Tonight, you have let me, your sister, down. I desperately need your support, your comfort and your trust. To reward my efforts in doing a job I was unprepared for, yet couldn't deny, you have showered me with your hate. Good night."
I stalked off the mat, retrieving my dropped axes. I set the four weapons in their hooks on the wall then headed for the exit. Pamela had taught me you tend to your weapons before you tend to your life.
"Ishara," Madori called out. I kept walking. "Wakko Ishara," she called out again. I stopped, looked over my shoulder and gave her a blank face.
"I had not thought this through. I apologize," she lowered her head. Around her others nodded.
"I don't care," I glowered. "I don't want your words. I want deeds. I don't want your respect. It is not something I find any value in right now.
"I don't want your comfort. You have denied me solidarity when I so desperately need it. I trusted you all implicitly. You were the Chosen of Ishara, named by your sisters as worthy, who had never let me down before. Now? All of you need to work on regaining my trust. Until you do, until you do, I will accept every challenge. And I promise you I will let your ghost explain to the Goddess and our Ancestors your treachery. Bye."
A Moment with Hana
{1:12 am, Thursday, Sept. 4th ~ 4 Days to go}
"Cáel?" Hana touched my chin, indicating she wanted eye contact.
"Yes?" I obliged. Her naked body lying next to mine was pleasurable and warm. The scent of our sexual coupling remained a happy reminder that we had shared our hunger and passion.
"Normally when we are together, I know I am the totality of your world. I have never felt your mind was elsewhere. Tonight, I know you have been diligent and caring, yet I know a part of your mind is devoted to something besides our sex and your complete attention to my body and needs. Can I help?" she worried.
"Hmm, success has robbed me of many of my primal fears and forced me to think about my future beyond my next weekend, next planned vacation, or who I might meet at a club/bar/walking down the sidewalk," I worked through my cerebral confusions.
"When I started at Havenstone, I mostly feared for my life," I quickly put a finger to her lips. "I'll explain one day, but not tonight. But one morning shortly before we met, I was staring down my eminent demise, only to have my life turned a full 180. I suddenly had family, friends and an extended family to consider. I wanted none of that."
"You grew up, Cáel," she stroked my stubbly chin. "You are trying to grow up. I understand this will be a harder struggle than you can explain right now, until our children become teenagers."
"That's mean," I joked. "I've actively and systemically resisted being a responsible adult since I discovered what being an adult entailed," I insisted.
"I accept that. I also accept when we are in a room together, your eyes always come back to me. I know you see the sensuality in other women, yet you have never betrayed me. I really, truly appreciate it. I do." She smiled. I smiled.
"That is not a license to cheat," she curtailed my constant subroutine of thought.
"Tell me what bothers you and I'll give you a big reward," she wiggled against my hip. Yay! I'm a simple guy.
"My 'department' tried to demote me a few hours ago. I got pissy and smacked them down for something that wasn't really their fault. I've picked up some bizarre knowledge that is difficult for sane people to accept."
"I told those ladies they had to re-earn my trust. I am wondering if I was too harsh on them," I mused.
"What does Buffy think?" she asked. That was a bit odd.
"She wants to toss a few of them into a 777's engine, while it is running," I confessed.
"Go with her judgement, Cáel," she consoled me. "She scares me. She also loves you more than life itself. I'll deal with her possessiveness as we learn to time-share you." Time-share? What the fuck!
"No."
"Yes," she pouted. "I'm coming to accept you can't be monogamous. I would like you to keep me first in your life. Do you think you can do that?"
"I," I gave it some serious thought. I wouldn't have to totally forgo other romantic liaisons. This was probably the best deal I'd get outside divorce court. "Okay. I now have a goal to work for, keeping you happy."
"I love you, Cáel. You don't have to respond. I want you to know how I feel. You deserve to know; and I want to be honest with my emotions concerning you," she sighed.
"Thank you. This means a lot to me, your honesty," I exhale. She'd helped me burn off a good chunk of my anxiety.
"So," I stroked her hair. "You mentioned a reward, or two?" I was thinking about pressing her bodily against her huge glass window overlooking the city while I took her vigorously from behind. Then I could turn her around and warm up those cold nipples with my mouth and tongue.
"Yes," she purred, clearly delving into the depths of my passion. "Dad has agreed to take me down the aisle," she worked her way on top of me, "and I'm pregnant."
Had Hana not been on top of me and definitely in need, I would have gotten out of bed and repeatedly slammed my cock in a door.
(Me) 'Dude, not wearing a condom is not an invitation to paternity!'
(The Other Me) 'Suck it up, Upper Head. A cock's got to do what a cock's got to do.'
(M) 'Bitch!'
(TOM) 'Hehehehe, happy Father's Day, Playboy.'
(M) 'Fuck you!'
(TOM) 'Speaking of which, fucking is what I'm trying to do. Get with the Game Plan.'
"What is going on in your mind, Cáel?" Hana teased me.
"I'm having a conversation with my cock," I groused. "And losing."
"Let him play," she showered me with understanding and acceptance. "I'm safe now; let him play." Hana was straddling me. 'He' throbbed. "See, he's willing to make up and play nice."
No, he was not out to play nice. Not now and not ever. Dick!
Dishonor, Rebirth, and the sacrifices made for both.
(and that big time jump.)
{7:03 am, Sunday, September 7th ~ 1 Day to go}
I had to remind myself Amazons came before the advent of the seven-day calendar and they determined their religious celebrations by stellar alignments, not by any specific date. Thus an early Sunday morning formal council session wasn't a common occurrence, but neither was it totally surprising.
Krasimira had requested a full meeting of the Amazon Council. House Ishara was marked by three oddities: my maleness, my personal appearance (Krasimira insisted for no given reason, i.e. standard operating procedure, and on the inclusion of the fourth member now wedged in around House Ishara's place at the table (Buffy, Daphne (Buffy still needed a translator), Juanita (as a member of the House Isharan House Guard) now included myself).
The first surprise for me, and most of the Council, was the replacement of Arwen by Desiree at House Epona's place. The shockwaves of Hayden's passing had most likely allowed Katrina to do some reshuffling in House Epona as well. The only person who was 'late' was Elsa, who still hadn't shown up as the meeting began. Her attendance was purely ceremonial anyway.
The Apprentices began the Prayer of the Ancestors. I did my part towards the end, the First House Apprentices begin the song (Buffy did her best) and the House Heads of First Houses finish it. Since the Council still hadn't created a Regency Council, it fell to the Golden Mare to get down to business.
"Krasimira, you have requested this meeting," she stood and regarded the woman across the empty High Priestess' chair. Krasimira motioned for her guardian to go get 'something'. Apparently that 'something' was waiting right outside the door, because all the guardian had to do was open it and poke her head outside.
She held the door open for six individuals to file in. First was Elsa, who was looking more gorgeous, vigilant and lethal than normal. Behind her came another one of Krasimira' people holding a 20" diameter, shallow copper bowl by the handles. I could barely make out the glowing embers it contained.
Third, hobbling in with a cane, her face a mask of sorrow, pain and fatalism, was Kwenhamai aka Death Song. At her side, supporting her as best she could was Aya. Behind those two were two more of Krasimira's guardians. The place didn't explode because no one in the room except Katrina, me and (I assumed) Krasimira recognized Kwen by face. Often the supernatural does not appear spectacular. This is a moment when the whole council became a witness to a manifestation of the weave’s power. Kwen is not an immortal, but she was born before Rome ruled the world.
Elsa took a warding position between Saint Marie and Kwen, which drew a curious expression from the Golden Mare. Behind Elsa was Aya. Kwen was beside Aya and two guardians were in a warding position between Kwen and the rest of the Council. The bowl-holder (now bowl-less) stood behind Krasimira as did the guardian she had started with.
Kwen took a deep breath. She scanned the sea of curious faces, finally settling on mine. I tried not to cry and failed. I nodded to her and she did to me.
"Few of you here know me. I am Kwenhamai," she began her path and the tone of the room immediately turned ugly. Krasimira stood rapidly and smacked her palm on the table so loudly I knew it had to hurt. Her action made the outrage of the other 51 become stillborn.
"I am Dumalugal (Princess) Kwenhamai, niece of "Esharsanh" (Antiope) and daughter of "Hueksanhbizahhāi" (Penthesilea), of "Munuskappilāibihur" (Orithyia) descendent of "Kururiyahhssi" (Antianeira), first queen of the Amazon {the bracketed phrases are the Greek versions of the Amazons' names}. I am the oldest member of my House," she continued and I believe few caught the 'oldest' bit. Her recitation was her lineage, thus her right to rule.
The last plunge,
"This is my duma (daughter) and Iwaruwa (heir), Aya of Kururiyahhssi ('she who rebels)." A pregnant pause seized the room.
'A life for a life'. That was what Pamela had told me, her curse.
What if that had been aimed at me, not her? Maybe her burden was to see me through to this point. Think of Aya and know she deserves to grow up to be an Amazon, just like you. Give her the freedom to do so.'
Where there is Valor, there is Hope yet where there is Hope, there can be Valor too.
Greatness should be measured by the lives you save, not those you take. When the time, Aya.
Pamela had given me life, I had given Kwenhamai her life on the battlefield and now she was giving Aya a life I could never provide for her, greatness should be measured by the lives you save. That was not the Amazon way, yet it could be. I had no clue what to do, so I went with my instincts. At this juncture, we had all been rendered powerless, by hatred and by our unforgiving nature.
"I see Aya of Kururiyahhssi," I declared as I slammed my palm down on the table. I was robbed of the added dramatic flair of standing up abruptly since I had to stand because I had promised to never sit in their presence. To add to the tragic play laid before us, I could barely see Aya. The table was high. All I could see was the top of her shoulders and her head.
"I see Aya of Kururiyahhssi," came from an unexpected direction. It was Kohar of Marda, standing, speaking and slamming her hand down on the table. Next, five seconds later, Fatima's successor echoed the proclamation. The voices cascaded together after that. The last House Head to add her affirmation was Katrina.
She was losing a breeding female of her house. I think the weight of the burden falling on those small shoulders was an even harder emotion for her to deal with. Once more, she sacrificed Aya for the good of all Amazons. There were only two people left, Saint Marie and Krasimira.
Saint Marie walked over to the two Royals then touched Elsa on the upper arm. When Elsa stepped aside, the Golden Mare looked down at Aya and, with a slight bow of the head, "I see Aya of Kururiyahhssi."
"The birth of Aya of Kururiyahhssi shall be recorded in the Rolls of the Host," was Krasimira's spin on things. After all, neither hers nor the Golden Mare's vote mattered in this decision, not legally.
Saint Marie's vote was a symbolic representation of all members of the Security Detail who stood outside the House system. Kwen swayed slightly as she drew forth her small Amazon blade then extended a lock of her hair.
"No," Aya whispered desperately. Kwen shot her a grim smile.
"They are your people now," she replied softly. "With you, I have restored our bloodline's honor. Now I must meet my end, and my sins, alone." With that, she sheared off a length of hair, "I will take myself to the cliffs, without a lineage and nameless." She dropped her hair into the coals which popped and crackled as they devoured their offering. Three of us were crying, me, Aya and Buffy.
Alone, Kwen shuffled painfully to the door. No one would help her.
"Kwenhamai," Saint Marie proclaimed in a loud, clear voice. "You are forbidden to take yourself to the cliffs." Kwen turned toward us, her face ashen. She couldn't even die in the traditions of her people, a final crushing blow.
"At this time we all must seek permission to take ourselves to the cliffs," Saint Marie finished. "The Host is at war and we need every set of eyes, hands and feet. No one, full-blooded or Runner, may seek out our ancestors, or purposely end our lives. What reason do you give for seeking permission to end your existence?"
"I would prefer an honorable death," she replied sadly.
"I have been told you fight well, your wounds are not permanently crippling and I see no indication that you have lost the spirit to fight. Your request is rejected. Go to Medical. I will inform Rayen Artio so she may allocate your abilities in a manner which provides maximum benefit for the Host. You do not belong in these chambers. Leave."
This time, one of the SD ladies went to her side and helped her leave. Since that worthy didn't immediately return, I hoped she took Kwen up to Medical. Inside, events continued to unfold. Saint Marie was about a foot from Aya and the height difference was comical.
"Is there anything you need?" she looked down at Aya. It was clear to me both women (titan and pixie) were trying to catch up with unexpected events.
"What do you suggest?" Aya asked. "I would like it if you told me," she rapidly added.
"Perhaps I should assign you some bodyguards and tutors," Saint Marie suggested. The rest of us were standing around uselessly. Saint Marie was in charge and helping out Aya had been added to her long list of duties she needed to perform.
"Oh, I would like two bodyguards chosen from two different First Houses, plus one House Amazon from each continent. To those, I would like to add an equal number of Runners."
"So, you have thought this out?" Saint Marie shot me and Katrina an evil look.
"Oh no!" Aya shook her head. "I'm as much surprised about Kwenhamai's actions and departure as you are. I really wanted her to hang around for several more years, at least a decade. Fortunately, my Atta has taught me all Amazons must think on their feet and take advantage of every opportunity and turn misfortune to an advantage."
"He has taught that to you?" Saint Marie kept her voice steady.
"He did so accidently ~ through my observation of him and overhearing others discuss how he was being trained. Normally, Au, Katrina of Epona sends him on assignments without telling him what he's supposed to do until he arrives at his destination." That was followed by a hush, then muted amusement among the onlookers.
"I will see to your bodyguard. Is there anything else?" Saint Marie remained polite. As we were all about to discover, the Golden Mare had no 'Aya-experience'.
"Yes. From this day forth, I want all male babies turned over to the Royal House," she plowed on. This hush had a darker tone.
"You wish to add men to your House?" Saint Marie was back to being upset.
"No," Aya shook her head. "They are men after all. I want them to be taught to be skilled servants and craftsmen. There are numerous non-martial jobs the Host does right now that diverts our efforts from warfare and bringing more daughters into the Host."
"But no warriors?" Saint Marie clarified, not only for herself, but for the majority of the Council as well who suspected the perniciousness of me and Katrina.
"In the Royal House? Not now; most likely not for several generations. I love Cáel Ishara with all my heart, he is my mamētu me eda (boon companion). He is also a bit of a nut. I think it is best if we give males tasks that don't stress them that much."
Sighs of relief (Aya wasn't poisoned with extremist beliefs) circled the table, followed by nods of approval (Aya was one of them ~ a pure-blooded Amazon with their traditional upbringing), fools. Unseen by the rest, Katrina and I knew this was Mamitu! ~ the Amazon belief that training, experience and ability allowed you to achieve victory; no 'luck' required.
"I would like it if the New Directive is pursued with vigor. The grim reality is that virtually all our old male population has passed and, for the sake of genetic diversity, we need to rejuvenate our bloodlines with males strong in mind, body and spirit."
"Is there, I hear the wisdom in your words, Dumalugal," Saint Marie had reversed directions emotionally and was starting to take her princess very seriously. As Katrina and I knew, Aya was super-bright; an Amazon of Legend inside a tiny frame.
"I would like it if my bodyguard served the Royal House for ten years at which time they will return to their native House. Runners will resume being Runners unless they are adopted into a House."
"I would like it if the First Directive was pursued with greater vigor as well," she piped up. "If the rest of the Houses don't get their acts together, House of Ishara is going to pick up all the superlative ones. I don't think anyone in this room, except Cáel, Buffy and Daphne, wants to see a House Ishara with 1,000 sisters."
"A thousand Runners are still the equivalent of a thousand formers Runners with the name Ishara attached," Messina murmured. I wasn't sure if I would be able to stop Buffy, mainly because I wanted to jump down Messina's throat first.
"May I address the Council, Golden Mare?" Aya maintained her illusion of subordination. This was a brilliant Aya actively assuring the Council that she had no intention of becoming Queen anytime soon.
"Let me consider it, Dumalugal," Saint Marie leaned up to look at me (?). Aya's hand sprang up over her head mimicking the action of a student seeking attention. Saint Marie's eyes flickered down to Aya.
"House Ishara, how do you wish to handle that insult?" she addressed me.
"Insult?" I pretended to be surprised. "Messina behaving in a blindingly infantile manner is something we both expect and pity. If she,"
"How dare you?" Messina simmered.
"If she knew anything about the workings of House Ishara, the sisters of House Ishara, or Runners in general, then her babblings might have some value," I continued. "She doesn't, so we ignore her as we would ignore any outburst from an un-casted."
"Blood feud," Messina stood up and snarled. Aya was bouncing up and down.
"Yes, Dumalugal?" Saint Marie withheld her reaction in order to see what the princess wanted.
"Please, would you call me Aya? Being Dumalugal scares me enough without always being reminded about it. Also, I would like to avoid any blood feuds while the Host is locked in such a vital struggle."
"I would like it if five members of House Minerva and House Ishara battled each other in a melee to settle this manner. If House Minerva wins, Cáel Ishara should be compelled to make a public apology at the next Council meeting for rudely refusing to acknowledge the opinion of another Head of House."
"If House Minerva fails, then Messina of Minerva will forever forgo conveying any insult concerning Runners and former-Runners. Do you think that would be a fair decision?"
"You are very dangerous," Saint Marie stated loud enough to be clearly heard to everyone. "Our enemies should tremble as the years diminish until your coronation."
"I plan to learn from the very best," Aya punctuated this by reaching out and putting her small hand in Saint Marie's. In that instant, Saint Marie was whisked back to the years when her own daughter was Aya's size.
"The Host will do it's very best to prepare you for the duties you will have to take up when the time comes," she promised in a much kinder voice. Go Aya!
"I am waiting for the next 'I would like'," the Golden Mare added.
"I would like Shawnee of House Arinniti, Rhada of House Meenakshi and Buffy of House Ishara to consent to being the three members of the Regency."
"House Arinniti is an established First House and Shawnee provides the gravitas, wisdom and experience of a House Head."
"Rhada is from a new House and brings the perspective of an Apprentice to the process. I would like it if we considered the fact that most of our warriors will be closer to her age than the age of House Heads."
"Buffy has the most experience dealing with Runners and will serve as a beacon for the Runners in the same manner the heritage of our Houses' histories inspire 'we' fortunate enough to be raised by Amazon grandmothers, mothers, aunts and sisters does." Aya had deftly avoided the use of the term 'full-blood'.
"Why don't we simply put the crown on her head now, beyond the fact it would fall straight past her shoulders to the ground," the Head of House Bendis remarked rather bitterly. I had to think,
"Her names is Klavdiya," Buffy filled me in through clenched teeth.
Aya's hand shot up again.
"I would 'like' to handle this one," Saint Marie smiled down at Aya. Aya dropped her hand immediately. "Klavdiya, I have decided your lack of close proximity to Dumalugal Aya of Kururiyahhssi has clouded your perception of events. What you mistake as a usurpation of power is a little girl trying to avoid responsibilities beyond her experience."
"That wasn't," Klavdiya stared to defend her utterance. Saint Marie held up her hand warding the Head of House Bendis to silence.
"Before you continue, pay careful attention to who her birth-aunt was." Technically, Aya had no family anymore. Kwen had exited the Royal House so that the Amazons wouldn't have to deal with her treachery.
To be continued.
By FinalStand for Literotica.