Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 15

A Butterfly wants to kill the World?

Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Although Love is both fire and shadow, we often forget to take comfort from the coolness of the memories when the burning flames are absent

There were precisely two things, okay, four things, keeping me alive. The fourth thing would come to her later when her 'furious was replaced by her 'curious' ~ as in how I knew her inhuman lingo ~ which would lead to my legacy with Grandpa.

The top three reasons -

She had poked my chest. It was a challenge, calling for one of my guardians to come out and play. The avatar knew I was the chosen heir of the Goddess Ishara and my goddess had devoted a good deal of time and effort to my survival and continued service in her cause.

If Ishara made an 'appearance', it would be enough reason to not eviscerate me for my foul treatment of her august personage.

Nope. It seemed Ishara was busy at the moment.

Still, she most likely knew SzelAnya had shown a keen interest in me in Romania, though I'd never told Selena, or any other member of the 9 Clans, the Dragon's Daughter had killed Ajax for me. Figuring out SzelAnya, a storm deity, had helped me and Aya escape from our kidnapping in the midst of a cyclone in the Pacific Ocean wasn't much of a reach.

But no bolt of lightning coalesced from my chest to singe her finger. No clap of thunder. Not even a cloud with a hint of disfavor appeared above us.

Her obsidian fingernail began penetrating my shirt, touched my skin, then drew my blood, and something 'twitched'.

That would be Contestant Goddess #3. She wasn't actually hanging around me. She didn't have to. She'd left me a memento of our last shindig before we parted ways. That was the nightmare-inducing episode where she, the chthonic goddess Sarrat Irkalli, had compressed one man's body into a dagger and then proceeded to suck another's soul into it to use as a power source for an Airbus 350 (a commercial airliner, if you didn't know).

I still had that snaggletooth-looking thing at my back. Well who the Hell was I going to leave it with? Honestly, the only people I felt could keep it safe I loved too much to curse with it. Anyway, the second her divine claw touched my blood, the long dormant weapon whispered to me in a somewhat bored, lofty feminine voice from beyond the grave,

Do you want me to discorporate this pathetic has-been for you?

Quick check. Only the avatar and I, and her priestess-savant heard that. Of course, in downtown, New York City, noon Sunday, how weird would such a declaration be? The avatar's eyebrow arched. Her big bat-ears (still looking human to the normal viewing public) flicked this way and that, figuring out precisely where the threat originated from. Slowly, her once poking hand began to slide across my chest, along my ribs and around my back.

She touched the dagger. Nothing.

Gingerly, she drew it forth. I'd had a makeshift sheath made. As the blade made its journey around me, she took a half-step back to better observe it.

"Please don't kill him!" Theddy squealed. "We haven't had sex yet!"

Being 'who' and 'what' she was, the avatar did what came natural. Fortunately for Theddy, I'd become accustomed to working with psychopaths.

She stabbed the dagger at Theddy. I clamped my hand down on her wrist. The claws of her left hand came down on my constraining wrist. My free hand came down on that hand, trying to pry it free. It was a hopeless struggle, except.

Yes, my old friend 'except'. Except the avatar was holding the dagger. As powerful as Ītzpāpālōtl was, she wasn't pushing against me. She was pushing against Sarrat Irkalli.

Ītzpāpālōtl was a living, breathing terror machine who killed and received sacrifices on a regular basis.

Sarrat Irkalli hadn't been actively worshipped in 3,000 years.

Uneven contest? Oh yeah.

See, Ītzpāpālōtl had spent the past 500 years continuously fighting against the Weave to keep her fingers on this side of reality.

Meanwhile, for the most part, Sarrat Irkalli had sat upon her throne in the Sumerian Underworld with hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of souls toiling under her watchful gaze for eternity. Sure, her version of Hell wasn't getting any fresh deposits, but she knew how to milk the system well.

Even the bad karma for the dagger's creation wasn't hers. She'd stolen it from the foolish Gong Tau sorcerers who had meant to enslave my soul, aka one-third of the Baraqu-Alal-Cáel deal she'd worked out millennia ago. It was the Weave giving her a 'freebie' for playing by the rules, if you considered the Weave sentient.

And now Ītzpāpālōtl was touching it. Whoops. It wasn't as if Ītzpāpālōtl was stupid. It isn't like there are tons of magic weapons running around, much less soul-munchers like the one I had. Rationally, who would give a novice like me, a weapon like this? I say again, 'whoops'.

Once I'd figured this out, I couldn't stop being me.

"Theddy, do you like girls?"

"What?" she squeaked. Here was this psycho trying to drive a Smilodon incisor into her bosom and I was giving her a sex quiz.

Ītzpāpālōtl was really starting to struggle now.

"I, ah, are you okay?" she continued.

"Oh, I'm dandy. I'm serious. You think this chick is hot? I mean, would you do her in a three-way?" I proposed casually.

"Timothy?" Sovann.

"Bro?" Timothy to me.

"It's all good. Sovann, you want to know what my life is like? This lady who came to discuss business with me today is an immortal mass murderer. You give the word, I'll let go and this knife is going to cut her up like a Ginsu blade on market day because just cutting her heart out isn't going to be enough. Worse. Eventually she'll get back up."

"Timothy?" Sovann repeated, this time with more concern. He thought I was nuts. I released my left hand. The blade flipped up, twisting in the avatar's grasp. That was the point her minions figured out something was wrong.

"El Amado?" the priestess-savant called out softly. The three goons began reaching for 'things'.

"Call them off, or I open my other hand," I cautioned the avatar. She spared me a swift, hostile look. My fingers tingled.

"Esten quietos!" she snapped. They stopped.

"Cáel, bad day, or not. This isn't you. Stop it. The girl's in danger," Timothy spoke up. He didn't mean Theddy. He meant the avatar.

"I'm being a real asshole, aren't I?" I sighed.

"Pretty much. You never let the bitches get to you before. Girl pops an attitude, you smile and move on. Life is too short," he reminded me. Too true.

"I'm going to put my hand over the blade," I told Ītzpāpālōtl. "When I do, you can let go."

She didn't say anything for several seconds, even after my left hand covered the semi-serrated edge.

"Why should I trust you?" she sizzled.

"Because 'me' letting anything bad happen to you would make me a total, judgmental jerk. I don't know you. Whatever you did before you showed up today shouldn't matter to me. I acted stupidly. I should have stopped you. I didn't. I didn't even warn you and I could have. I was angry, and not even at you. Just angry and I apologize. Now, let go."

"Why?"

"Hi. I'm Cáel Nyilas. Can I have my knife back? Please?"

Blink. She released it. For a millisecond, it wanted to do something else because bitches are bitches. It didn't, so my palm wasn't sliced open. My right hand took the hilt. I carefully put the blade away.

"Yes," Theddy gulped.

"Huh?" Sovann shook his head at the sudden evaporation of the life and death tension. Welcome to my life. Theddy meant 'yes' to the 'girl-girl-guy' thing I had proposed earlier. It pays to keep things prioritized.

"What is this movie you were talking about?" Ītzpāpālōtl asked. Had she forgiven me for anything which had transpired? Bwahahaha, no way. She was taking the initiative and going with Option 1 from my earlier insane diatribe.

"Wait!" Sovann nearly shouted. "You nearly, I don't know, threatened Cáel’s life and tried to stab Theddy and now you think you can go with us to a movie?"

"I told you," Timothy put an arm around his shoulder, "life with Cáel is rarely dull."

"I thought you meant he was fun to party with, or something like that," Sovann looked up at his lover. "I thought his uncle showing up, and trying to kill him and then being blown the fuck away by those women and federal agents, and that other girl who pointed a gun at us, is this the new normal?"

"I love you, Sovann," Timothy grew compassionate. "Cáel is my best friend. He'd never deliberately hurt either of us and normal friends are something he has in short supply. Today being a great case in point."

Ten seconds passed.

"The title is 'As Above, So Below'," Sovann addressed the avatar, "and what do we call you?"

Since 'if you are not a worshiper and addressing me, I normally am about to kill you' would sound really cool in Olmec-ic, but I might be asked to translate,

"How about we go with 'Obsidian', please?" I pleaded with her.

She knew I was currying favor now ~ and behaving like a weather vane caught in the wall of a tornado ~ she gave a gracious bow of her head.

"Obsidian will do for now. Is the Legend of the dagger 'business'?" Translation: it had better not be.

"No," I smiled. "It's pillow talk." Rancor, 'how presumptuous', followed by 'but that dagger ups the count to three Goddess interested in him', and next to recalling all the trivial babble about me being a sexual dynamo (I prayed my PR was that good) having some relevance. Her chimera emotions allowed me to get a few more crucial words out, because even women who aren't sleeping with me are jealous.

"Esta mujer fue la primera en ofrecer bienes funerarios tras la muerte dee mi padre," I reinserted Theddy back into my close company. For some reason, Obsidian considered me unreliable thus had to verify what I'd just said.

"Did you make funerary offering upon his father's passing?" she asked Theddy. Let's think about this. The wacko chick questioning Theddy had tried to stab a huge freaking blade into her not a minute ago. Fleeing in terror while screaming for the cops? Nope.

"Yes. I baked him some walnut and caramel chip cookies," she nodded. "It is a family recipe." Sovann looked over the three of us, then back to Timothy.

"I told you 'that's impressive cocking like I've never seen before'," he explained.

"She may remain," Obsidian 'permitted'. Theddy wrapped up my right arm with her left and gave it a squeeze. She wanted attention/explanation.

"Obsidian is a Master Vampire, Theddy," I leaned in and whispered. "Before she was turned, she was captured in a raid by the fey, mentally, spiritually and physically raped and made into their sex-slave. Part of her spirit never healed properly. While this imperfection allows her to walk around in daylight, her heart can never hold on to any emotion for long, so she is forced to forever seek passion, no matter how dangerous, from the world around her."

Revealing secrets? Ha. I had noticed Theddy had every work done by Laurel K. Hamilton in her place, including the comic book series.

"You are not supposed to know, so act like I didn't tell you anything, okay?"

'Okay,' she mouthed back at me. I could see it in her eyes. My chaotic life suddenly 'made sense' to her because a best-selling fiction author said so.


Obsidian thought the movie was; hilarious. She couldn't stop snickering, giggling and poking at me as horrible shit happened to the various actors. She thought the plot was 'insightful' and wouldn't stop whispering to me throughout the entire thing. During the closing credits, I told her I'd get her the DVD for Christmas ~ she knew the concept behind digital technology, but didn't own any ~ she kissed me.

The first kiss was fierce and joyous with the added benefit of her tongue doing things no normal tongue could do, it stretched. Not sure how I felt about that. The second kiss was more sultry, longer and came with some accompanying body action which, I'm no virgin. Not even close. She was on my left side, so when she twisted in her seat, her left leg insinuated itself between mine. Her left hand cupped my jaw and held my head in place as her lips played along mine.

A dance of the scorpion perhaps? Tender at first, then suddenly stabbing, dominant and brutal. My lips and tongue battled back, using my superior Kiss-fu to nullify her natural strength and agility. She liked it. By her moaning, she liked it a lot. As the kiss progressed, more and more of her flowed from her seat into my seat, body facing me. Her body rose over mine, forcing my neck back to maintain contact.

"So, Dot Ishara is hovering around somewhere close, isn't she?" I murmured as our lips separated barely a centimeter apart. One chick kissing you to make another one jealous. It's happened to me plenty of times. Obsidian didn't give a damn about Theddy, or any other mortal woman in close proximity so,

"Yes," she purred. "Do you mate with her?"

"A man does not brag of such things, but no, unless heavy petting counts?"

"What will she do to you when I steal your seed?"

'When'? Why was I not surprised? Why was I not surprised another concussion was in my immediate future either? Was it possible I was, learning?

"Chastise me for not fighting harder," I breathed across her lips, "and, in case you forgot, I'm on a date with the girl beside me."

"Who I care nothing for," she sent a cruelly playful look Theddy's way. Wisely, the girl shivered.

"Who I am indebted to and how I honor my debts might matter to you," I hazarded. My words hurt Theddy's feelings. That was on purpose. Obsidian took pleasure in me hurting Theddy because she was basically a vicious monster.

"Yes?" I pressed her gently.

"Yes," Obsidian allowed, easing up slightly both romantically and physically.

"And Theddy, if you believe I'm with you solely because of some sense of obligation, you clearly haven't been listening to your recordings," I shot the human girl a wink.

"Oh."

"Am I, or am I not, a sex-obsessed little monkey?" I teased her. Theddy giggled. I paid for my diversion with four obsidian claws to my ribs outside of Theddy's view. After all, it wasn't like Theddy could possibly compete with her for my attention. Considering Obsidian's legendary ability to rip open her opponent's ribcages and feast upon their hearts, I slipped my left hand, the one next to her between her legs and stroked her cotton-slacks covered cunt.

Theddy hugged my right arm and put her head against my shoulder. Not to be outdone,

" Qu  un centenar dee hombres se quemaron vivos como el sonido?" Obsidian inquired with sexually sadistic hunger. Ah, memories of burning 7P Commandos.

Whoops. Theddy knew Spanish.

"No lo s . Ten an respiradores en," I replied casually. "Si lo desea, puedo describir lo que se siente al tirar de una flecha de guerra lanzar mi propio muslo."

"Eep," slipped out of Theddy's lips.

"Why did you do that?" Obsidian looked over us both.

"Well, I was showing a little girl I believed in her,"

"And she shot you?" Theddy gulped.

"No. She hit the target I was standing next to. A co-worker mistook me for a cardboard cutout of a Jehovah's Witness and let fly. Seems she had issues with organized religion as well as a reaction to the oscillation effect of florescent lighting and ceiling fans."

"But why did you pull the arrow out?" Theddy asked. "Couldn't you wait until you got to the hospital?"

"Mosquito," Obsidian menaced, insinuating Theddy was a pest.

"I wasn't thinking rationally at the moment, I work in an asylum, I had a hot date in a few hours, any of those three will do," I smiled at Theddy.

"Copil such as Cáel don't bother with petty human conventions," Obsidian turned my gaze back her way with her hand on my jaw. 'Copil's were 'god-touched' in her lingo.

"More than one girl?" Theddy mused.

"Four."

"Okay," she sighed happily.

"Theddy, three under-age girls and the police office he was dating acting as their chaperone," Timothy intervened. "He hurried home so he could keep a promise to the children, not for sex." Bastard. He really was my best friend. He didn't mention my post-injury, pre-festivity sex with Odette giving me a few extra, urgently needed Brownie Points to suggest I might be a decent human being.

"You are a wonderful guy," Theddy ran a fingernail over my free hand. Clearly I was 'wonderful' enough to risk Obsidian's anger over. The screen went blank as the last credits scrolled away and the room was plunged into darkness. Five seconds later, the lights snapped on.

Pain!

"Fuck," I hissed. It wasn't any extra physical trauma causing me discomfort. No, a metaphysical dam had burst within and my stream of conscious thought had been turned into a white-water rapids. The competing cyclones of thoughts in my mind had stopped cooperating and my hypothalamus was letting me know I was in danger.

"Cáel", "Cáel", "Bro", and "Ishara" all came in rapid succession. I needed some space both tangible and social.

"I need to step outside," I eased Obsidian off me and stood up. My sense of my personal danger was ratcheting up. While I had been studying Obsidian, so I could screw her, I had discovered more and more Alal-badness.

The light display had ignited a series of pressing implanted memories which had been clamoring for my attention. Things like not all 'divinities' were stewards of the Weave. Some even wanted its destruction, preferring risking all on a chaotic restructuring of reality over what existed now ~ things like Obsidian. They weren't attempting to do so because they thought they had no chance.

But there was. A real serious chance to unravel reality existed; and it was staring her in the face. It wasn't 'me' as in 'I was the Anti-Christ'. But with the torrent of memories pouring forth, I knew where the peril lay and I was completely responsible for it. Hell, I was a prime ally of Armageddon and hadn't even known it.

'Holy Shit!'

I blinked. Timothy was shaking me. We were out in the lobby.

"Oh my God, Timothy," I nearly wept. "What am I going to do?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Is there someone you can talk to about this?" he suggested. Normal folks were around us. Obsidian was at my side. Sovann was behind Timothy with an arm around Theddy's shoulder.

"Theddy," I looked at her. "Can I catch up with you later? I just realized I've screwed up something fierce." I put my best 'really don't want to go but I gotta' face on. Her worried look brightened, she slipped around Timothy and gave me a tingling French kiss.

"I'll hold you to that, Cáel," she murmured when we parted.

"Timothy, go home, I got shit to deal with," I hoped my grin didn't become as feeble as I felt it to be.

"I," he started to say something. "Time not to ask questions?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Wait." I pulled us to the side and went on to my toes, leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Tell Pamela 'he' sent Ajax to kill the Professor, his family and the sisters. They were the targets all along. It wasn't me, or the other women. Just in case,"

"Okay," Timothy patted my arm. It was cryptic. It was the best I could do. See, I wanted to cry so badly.

{2:09 pm Sunday, September 7th ~ Last day}

Where to begin:

Every mythology across the globe has some creature, or creatures, which threatens Existence. Usually a God, or a Hero-God, slays the creature and everything is right with the world, except such a being, being older than Existence itself, can't really die, so they are carved up, buried ~ what have you.

Illuyankamunus was one such manifestation of this underlying cancerous desire to destroy reality. He'd had a far more real child, SzelAnya, and she's never quite given up on her dad. Of far greater critical importance, she was 'part' of Illuyankamunus, somewhat in the way I was part of Alal and Baraqu. And yes, that meant all the offspring of Bolu, the guy I'd praised a few hours earlier, held the seeds of that malignant deity as well.

And Alal knew it. He hadn't been killing off the descendants. He'd left that task up to a group far more capable of the task, the Egyptian Rite, who knew a fucking threat to existence when they saw it. Lest I forget, No secret society are the 'good guys'. Also lest I forget, I alone decided to go after the Arinniti sons to fulfill Vranus' quest. I had no divine mandate I was aware of nor any real world orders.

Inadvertently, I had rounded up the last five mortal remains of Illuyankamunus in one place for convenient disposal in a remote Transylvanian town. The only problem was: if someone didn't get to them quickly, I was also about to whisk them into the loving (and heavy-armed) protective embrace of the Amazon Host, where the completion of centuries of culling would have suddenly become a cast-iron bitch instead of a simple disposal.

Enter Ajax. Yeah, I bet the Egyptians were trying to figure out how I stopped him as well as Alal. I thought I was being clever by not telling most of the world. In fact, they most likely suspected; and the reality of SzelAnya watching over me was much more terrifying. Ishara had put a serious curse on the Amazons, yet her curse only affected her followers, the Amazons, who were fair game.

SzelAnya had killed someone for me, and I hadn't been one of her followers. Thus I had committed a blasphemous act only a magician of some significant ability could have managed. I wasn't a sorcerer, but I had a cornucopia of mystic knowledge rolling around in my noggin. Trying to figure all this out was one of my major headaches.

The others?

I even suspected I knew who betrayed me ~ kinda. They didn't do it on purpose. At least I hope they didn't, because my odds-on favorite was my Mother by way of Captain Delilah Faircloth. Realistically, there was only one secret society who might help her against Grandpa and that was the Egyptian Rite, and they did send three people to Dad's funeral including two 'somebodies'. I'm an idiot.

I'd chatted away in fluent New Kingdom Egyptian and it never occurred to me how odd it was for two of them to also be so fluent in it. Know it, sure, but as fluent as Kimberly had taught me to be? That should have been a Red Flag.

The Earth & Sky had sent Iskender, who should have been the benchmark I judged the other delegations by, damn it.

Three Condos? They'd killed my Dad and their guys had been flunkies.

The 7 Pillars had been nobodies, which they'd proven by their inaction.

Now I had to question why I had 3 actual  9-Clans  assassins at my dad's funeral too. Holy Ishara, I wasn't nearly paranoid enough.

Anyway, why would the Amazons be aiding and abetting the End of All Life on Earth? Normally, they wouldn't be, but 3000 years ago, the majority of Human life did a colossal dump on the Amazons. And when they needed help, they got it in the form of SzelAnya and her dual-sex followers. I seriously doubt they told the Amazons their purpose was to resurrect SzelAnya's daddy. I imagine the Amazons didn't pry too much either.

It turned out almost to be okay. During the 2nd Betrayal, the Amazons betrayed SzelAnya and almost short-circuited her plans by exterminating her lineage.

Except for the Arinniti elders and Bolu. Good old 'except'.

I can imagine when the Egyptians heard about the 2nd Betrayal, they figured they were 'okay'. Those wacky Amazons had inadvertently done the world a favor. Except an act of maternal love kept a slender hope of Illuyankamunus' return alive. By the time the Egyptians realized they'd been prematurely hopeful, Bolu's descendants were all over the Balkans and hunting them down had proven difficult.

But, it gets worse. Much worse.

When those Gods shattered Illuyankamunus, they scattered him in the relative certainty no one would ever gather the parts back together.

His flesh was scattered across the land, modern day Turkey, but encompassing everything from Pakistan to Italy and Egypt to Poland. The flesh became soil, then plants, the things that eat plants, then food for humans. Get the picture.

Whoops. SzelAnya had been doing just that for centuries upon centuries every time she mated with a mortal of Illuyankamunus' line and had offspring, they accumulated his energy, which made hunting down the few remaining ones easier to find, since they were 'beacons of badness', except...

There were two key pieces missing which SzelAnya could never get. After all, you would think burying them on the far side of the world would matter, right?

The 'breath of Illuyankamunus' ~ his cosmic fire ~ they buried in a volcano in a distant land far across the Great Sea. His spirit 'body' they imprisoned in a great river, again, across the Great Sea.

But wait, it gets worse.

The being standing next to me knew precisely where the 'breath of Illuyankamunus' was. Seems Mesoamerica is laced with volcanos. They'd discovered 'the breath' long ago and used it as a weapon called Xiuhcoatl. Better yet, Alal suspected she and her buddies were more than happy to reunite it with the rest if they thought the Weave itself wouldn't annihilate them for daring to do so.

In their current, weakened state they were vulnerable to such a karmic backlash. In theory, a reborn Illuyankamunus would have access to power beyond the bounds of the Weave, older and more terrifying. Still, without the mortal remains to anchor the energy, giving it to the spirit would be pointless.

Alal knew where the spirit body was (in general), but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was where it was,

Of all the places the Arinniti sons could have fled to, they had to choose Brazil, the burial place of the restive spirit body of Illuyankamunus. Mother-fucker.

And Ildiko 'Alkonyka' aka Dusk Lovasz had sworn she'd travel to Brazil to fulfill Bolu's side of the quest in the same way I was holding up Vranus' end. If I tried to stop her, SzelAnya would know something was up. Fuck.

I was processing all of this when Obsidian violently yanked me out of the way. A cabby had swerved to avoid a flurry of trash and nearly run over us. It was the third near-concussive experience in the past five minutes she'd help me avoid while she had walked by my side. I'd been mumbling like a madman.

"That would be my Goddess wanting to talk with me," I looked her way.

"I know," she gave me a clever smile.

"She's really not going to like that," I shook my head.

"I know that too," she kept smiling. "Where is your mind?"

"Five lives away from making the world a safer place," I sighed.

"Safer for who?" she purred. Where were all the bimbos? Not only was it an insightful question, it cut straight to the heart of my dilemma.

What decision could I make? If I elected to help my fellow Amazons, I risked screwing with the world. In truth, I was risking everything even if I did nothing. Well Dad was always clear that things didn't change by themselves. You needed to do something that would have an effect. So, 'What are you going to do?'

More to the point, I wasn't Grandad. Killing the last five of the line of Illuyankamunus wasn't 'me', so it wasn't going to be something I'd worry about.

SzelAnya wanted to bring back her Dad, I could understand that. I'd have to figure out a way for her to believe this world sticking around was more important. How? Well, I had a goddess-like creature right in front of me to probe for ideas.

"You are an immortal," Obsidian commented. She'd been weighing her opinion for some time. I could tell by the wonderment with which she gifted each word.

"What? No. I can die."

"No. I don't think so. Your wounds. Normally the wounds I inflict flow freely for some time. Yours have already scabbed over," her eyes flickered to the various minor scars she'd imparted to me in the few hours we'd been together.

Of course, her idea was insane, Oh God No! I was in Grandad's body. Well Duh! His body was supposed to be immortal.

"Are you sure?" I looked deep into her eyes.

"You are a young immortal, the youngest I've ever met, but you are an immortal," she seemed to be convincing herself as much as me.

Stupid Assumption (on my part)! I wasn't in Alal's body. I was in Cáel’s. Because the Cáel soul shard was young, Alal hadn't been able to find it because it had moved through Time, to me, sonofabitch! 'I' hadn't been around for him to find. No! I was making yet another damn assumption.

What did I know? When Pamela found Baraqu, it had been in an object, not a person, though she had been short on details. When the Alal-shard went to the Land of the Endless Black Sands to bring Saku back, the Cáel-shard had been in reality, so it had been allowed to create a body, 'me'. Still, the curse Sarrat Irkalli placed on Baraqu was on Alal and myself as well, which meant I might just be immortal.

My Alal-mind agreed with Obsidian's assessment. In his first years, his healing had been slow, still taking days for what took mortal people weeks. I'd stupidly attributed my swift recovery to Amazon medicines, ugh. Because I got wounded more than most Security Detail trainees while concurrently entertaining two and three sex partners.

"Can you talk with Dot Ishara?" I asked her.

"Yes, but why would I?"

"Sex?"

"We are going to have sex anyway," she smiled. I'd tricked her. Set her up with the right so I could now drop her with the left.

"I can bring the mbo  tat  back to life," I pledged. That was not what she was expecting at all. "If you bring the Xiuhcoatl, I can bring the flesh and we can unite the three." Mbo  tat  was the Tupi name for the legendary 'fiery serpent' of the Amazon Basin. In Portuguese, it had become Boi-tat , a will-o-wisp with a confused, Christianized mythology ~ a serpent dwelling in darkness, devouring the eyes of corpses, glowing in the forests at night.

"Where is the flesh?" she whispered.

"In his mortal children," I replied.

"Who?"

"You are a monster, Ītzpāpālōtl. I'm not going to tell you and you don't have the time to drag the information out of my mind before my allies drop on you like a nuclear detonation," I drew my body tightly to her.

"Why would the Amazons do this?"

"They are not. This is a deal between you and me," I kissed her lips. I pulled back. A few seconds later she kissed me back.

"Why?"

"My grandfather had my father murdered and I would avenge him. In the end, despite my father's Amazon heritage, my 'Sisters' will let his death go unavenged for the greater good of the Host. He was a man and they will never look beyond that ~ they will never value his life as they would that of a woman."

"Your mother's father?"

"Yes. Cáel O'Shea of the Illuminati."

"We are not at war with the Illuminati," she murmured. It was a casual observation, not a protest.

"You are at war with Cáel O'Shea."

"He was slain."

"He didn't stay dead."

"You know much more than you are saying," she was finally catching on.

"Absolutely."

"I need much more than a few names to convince my kin to help," she purred, a cocktail of sexual immersion and flesh-flaying pain.

"I don't work for you. You are agreeing to work for me," I was hard as iron in more than one way. Why? Boundaries. She lived in a world where only the fundamentals of reality constrained her. Having a human, no matter how polished my pedigree, or how much I might appear to be 'special', tell her 'you are not the boss' in a reasonable fashion was new and very unwelcome.

"What would make you think that?"

"My mentor taught me knowledge is a curse. It is our inability to forget, and I can see into your soul, Ītzpāpālōtl. You care not one wit for the life of an assassin. But the thought of the other 'Factors' of the 9 Clans treating you as an equal galls you almost as much as the crushing reality that you need them.

"You have lived 500 years in chains and I'm offering you a desperate grab at freedom," I added.

"Your brief glimpse of immortality gives you no insight into my existence," she bristled.

"Oh, how many have given up? How many have decided the fight was no longer worth it and faded from the Sunlight to make their final trip into the Underworld, never to return? Do you even visit them?" I spoke with a voice tinged with compassion and loss. I pulled upon the pitiless, blank memories of a childless Alal all those centuries and imprinted on them my own fears of fatherhood and failure.

"How do you know so much?" she let her fa ade crack, then blow away, in the hollowness of her own sorrow. How could I pity such a monster? I could because I was me and I wouldn't surrender that to the barbaric past and most likely horrific future. I pulled her close, resting my chin on the top of her head.

"You are not the first, wonderful, very bright woman who has stepped into my life, Obsidian," I whispered. "You are not even the first divinity. For all the millions of differences enforced by power and time, I think love, hate and the conflict between the two wear upon us all. If anything, you face an endless parade of hope and misery. Even if you chose to ignore it, you have seen it and perhaps it leaves its marks ~ water scarring the rocks of a riverbed."

We paused. I was able to peripherally scan about and realize we'd made it to Central Park ~ the Ramble and off the beaten path.

"Your Goddess is a fool for not keeping you closer," she murmured.

"She does keep me close. You have been actively keeping me from her," I reminded my guest. "She also plays by the rules, so is of limited help in my plans for vengeance."

Translation: I could enlist Ītzpāpālōtl's aid while still remaining loyal to my matron Goddess. Ishara could not provide what I needed and my Amazons wouldn't agree with my scheme, so I needed her. Three hours ago, she wouldn't have considered me a worthy supplicant, much less an allied equal, yet here she was conspiring with me to shake the foundations of Creation.

Personally, I was thanking Mamitu, Destiny. Had I not been having my worst Sunday ever when we first crossed paths and then acted like a total cockhead, pissed her off and led her to holding Sarrat Irkalli's dagger, thus putting her life in my hands, and not had Timothy as a best friend, I wouldn't have taken her to the movie, and my mind wouldn't have wandered down those dark corridors of Alal's memories to piece things together.

Whatever itinerary Obsidian had approached me with, my abrasive behavior had forced her to it cast aside. Dagger, movie, revelations, I was now so much more in her eyes than she had envisioned.

"Share my need and share with me an ounce of your sorrow," I murmured to her as I gently curled my fingers in her hair and directed her head up until she faced me.

"The dagger," she rumbled. While she was stroking my hard-on, I knew she was using it as a double meaning.

"I was pinned to an onyx sacrificial table," I began my tale. We worked off pants to mid-thigh then 'got busy'. Penetration was only going to be possible by turning her around. Ground-breaking was her ready acceptance of my instruction. I leaned against a tree, then pulled her onto my lap. She guided my phallus home.

One locomotion and I sunk in deep. It was warm molasses until I hit and pressed against her cervix. For a second Obsidian trembled, then her muscles clamped down tightly, gripping my manhood firmly in a vise, keeping me still.

"Ah," I groaned. Obsidian had her neck twisted, so we were kissing with eye contact as I described my adventures with the Gong tau sorcerers. She shot me a quick twinkle of delight, a connection. She'd relayed physical pleasure in the way I was giving her cerebral gratification, aka hope.

I rolled up her shirt, and gave both nipples a brutal tweak in response. She gasped. I was applying a little 'rough' with my tender intercourse. She rolled her tush against my groin, an invitation to double-down on my nipple-play. I kept my left hand working over each tit while working my fingernails down her abdomen. As I described the terror in old Tsu's face as he shouted out 'M iyǒu! (Mandarin for 'No!') as he recognized too late the curse he was invoking. She relished the visual of the Han necromancer's terror.

'Me' smacking two fingers down on her clit earned me a squeal and a small gush of fluids on my nut-sack. Her look of astonishment was something I'd always cherish. Before me, sex was something she demanded from her followers/victims and definitely orchestrated. Her partners being fearful/worshipful must have limited their initiative.

"A-a-a-ah, we are being observed," she groaned, her lips less than an inch from mine. It took me a second.

"Which direction?" I kept pumping her, strumming her clit and treating her tit like taffy on a hot Coney Island summer afternoon. Her hooded eyes flickered to our right. I gave it ten seconds. I had to get Obsidian refocused on what I was going to do to her next, in case this was innocent voyeurism. Nope. It was Chaz.

Why Chaz? See, I'm an idiot. My cryptic warning to Timothy for Pamela had been good for all of one minute. He'd called her and she'd gathered what she could and come looking for me.

Why was she concerned? I was babbling to Timothy then wandering off with a 'beyond-freaky' chick I had just met named 'Obsidian' who came my way courtesy of another chick with the name of Estere.

Let me see, Estere was Hashashin and for Timothy to describe someone in my life as 'beyond freaky' was bad news. Timothy was seriously worried about me and Timothy was an emotional rock ~ he didn't panic. Lest we forget, I was in a federal taskforce. A quick peek into New York traffic cameras revealed me and Obsidian wandering into Central Park from the south, so in the rescue party went, splitting up and Chaz 'lucked-out'.

I still had two, no, three problems. I was really enjoying my sexual excursion with Obsidian and she was seeming to truly enjoy her experience with me. Oh, and Central Park is big, Pamela had been pressed for people, so she had pressed some unlikely participants into my rescue party.

"He's," smooch, "my brother, by adoption," I headed off the whole idea she'd been briefed on me already.

"Visual, Peacekeeper Six, OS2, L-11," Chaz muttered into his headset before taking up a casual stance on the path overlooking our trysting spot. Sex with an audience didn't bother her, so, we worked out as much action from twist, turns and two inches of in-and-out motions (she liked to keep our bodies tight) as we could. Obsidian was humming along in no time. Her vaginal walls were undulating, wearing away at my self-control.

Panting, not from us,

"Is he o, are they, who is she?" huffed and puffed a trio of voices from Chaz's locale. Oh. Pamela had recruited my 'Hounds'.

I accidently (from a timing perspective) took that moment to grind my nails into her left nipple, pinched her clit and hammered her as hard as I could. Obsidian howled. Her vocalization exited the human realm in a cataclysmic manner.

The noise scared avians a mile away into terrorized flight. Cats hissed, then raced for cover. Dogs tucked tail and ran. Streetlights a hundred yards away shattered in sprays of glass. Better yet, for the entertainment of my viewing public, she lashed out with her right hand at the closest Black Cherry sapling, exploding it into a mist of sap and pulverizing the bark and wood fiber into pulp.

On the downside, her cervix gave my balls an ultimatum ~ release my seed at once, or she was going to twist off my head. My cock and balls have a long history of making decisions without me. I began lavishing her. Before I finally got the feeling I was out of the danger zone. She was back to rubbing against me and purring in blissful satisfaction.

"Onun g zleri," whispered Belgin, one of the Turks. 'Her eyes'?

"Cáel, are you aware of the alternative nature of your liaison?" Chaz coolly cautioned me. Translation: 'mate, do you know you have your cock in a demon?'

"Yeah," I coughed. I had a face full of her hair. I was working on some post-coital nuzzling along with slowly helping her get her pants back up.

"Ininzqueoccehpa," she hummed to me, ignoring our gathering. That was 'let's do this again'.

"Tehuatlcochitlehua," I replied with some fondness. She studied me for a second before deciding my term was one of endearment, thus 'you are what dreams are made of', not 'nightmares'.

Obsidian had another issue to deal with. Timothy would call it a righteous cocking. Whatever it was, her hold on her human mein had slipped and her inhumanity was slipping through, mainly in her glass-like, black, multi-facetted eyes and her fingers which now ended in molten obsidian talons. On the subconscious level, her predatory nature was setting everyone close-by on edge. I could also make out the high pitched, ultrasonic pipping of her chiropteran cries ~ purpose unknown.

Obsidian made her way off farther into the underbrush leaving me a few precious seconds to appreciate her retreating posterior while holstering my equipment. More people were arriving. I had one more thing to take care of before, oh look, Nikita had brought her Mom along, the NYPD Sergeant.

"Chaz, I need to have a quick chat with Dot before I can explain things. She's been waiting and that's unwise," I looked to the Brit. He nodded.

"Cáel? Mr. Nyilas? Prince?" all came my way. I relaxed as best I could. Chaz went to a body blow to stagger me, then an epic upper cut to send me to Lullaby Land.

Dot & the Dragoness

Dot and SzelAnya, in dragon form, were waiting as I tumbled forward. By the state of my haziness, I knew my unconsciousness wouldn't last long.

"You gave her your seed," came the accusation.

"Yes," I staggered, "and now you should be able to track her," I pointed out the bonus part of the arrangement. No comment.

"I've got to make this quick, SzelAnya, I've found your father, geographically speaking," I dropped the bomb.

"Don't," Dot Ishara commanded. After all, she and her divine cohorts had done the killing and corpse-dividing eons ago. Undoubtedly, they'd executed their own oaths to one another to 'never reveal what they had done' as well.

"Too late," I shook my head. SzelAnya's attention was magnetized. "I owe you and I'm paying my debts. I'm not blind to the dangers, believe me."

"You have no idea what power you are invoking," Dot's undercurrent of displeasure was the worst I'd experienced.

"Wrong. I've got thousands of years of Alal boiling around in my head, Plus the rest of you betrayed her 2600 years ago. It doesn't mean I have to. And now, given the chance, I'm not. Even if you kill me, she's got enough to

Back in the Ramble

"Really expect me to believe," Nikita's mom was growling.

"Man down," I waved a weak arm skyward.

"Mr. Nyilas, what is going on here?" the Sergeant addressed me. I was reclining in a circle of my 'Hounds'; most were kneeling. Chaz was in a tiny bit of trouble for having clocked me.

"Umm, thanks for coming out and looking for me. I assure you, Mr. Tomorrow did what he did as a matter of his professional duties ~ intelligence gathering." As I struggled to stand, my ladies helped me. I saw Pamela with three Hounds coming up fast from one direction and Virginia with three more coming from the other. The gang was all here.

The mutterings in non-English tongues suggested a bit of explaining was already going on.

"You've been bleeding," Nikita pointed out with an unspoken 'again'.

"This?" I pulled my shirt out and looked at the first bloodstain of my encounter. "This is the just the start of the bad news." I shed my windbreaker and then t-shirt.

The professionals shouldered aside the others to take a closer look.

"All of these are from noon and less than an hour ago," I identified the damage. Sarge was skeptical. Chaz, Nikita and Virginia less so.

"They look older," the senior lawman noted.

"I've been curious about that," Chaz frowned.

"I've inherited my Grandfather's curse. My soul fragment was in the 'Here and Now' twenty-three years ago while his was, 'over there', so I was allowed to come into creation. According to my recently departed guest,"

"You are immortal," Virginia mumbled to finish the thought. Had the speaker not been a member of the FBI, who knows how the thought would have been received.

"From the memories I've been gifted with," I tapped the tiny divot on my forehead, "his healing abilities started out rather slowly too. I certainly don't want to test this theory, so no worries there," I scanned the group.

"How do you explain seeing your Grandfather in Hungary and again in Rome?" Virginia wondered.

"Again, that woman who just left," I got out.

"Was no woman," Nuray, another one of my Turkish Hounds interrupted. "Her eyes..." she tried to explain, "and look what she did to that tree," she pointed to the greatest piece of evidence of supernatural wrongdoing. The other two witnesses nodded.

"We all saw the same thing. Her eyes were, bottomless, definitely not human," Belgin affirmed. The veteran players looked to Chaz.

"She had a collapsed nose-bridge, lacked a blink response, her dental work was carnivorous and her tongue was extremely clipped and showed prehensile qualities," he reported calmly. Pause. Chaz was a freaking intelligence operative, after all.

"If her hands were a type of glove weaponry, I've never seen it s like before. While I know it is possible for a human to exert the force-pounds necessary to snap a two inch diameter tree trunk in one blow, it is a rare skill and requires intense discipline. This appeared to be done spontaneously, without preparation of any kind and as a reaction to other stimuli," he added.

"It was also your assessment he needed to be knocked unconscious?" Nikita's mom countered.

"Mr. Nyilas' psychological constructs are something the whole team has to work around. At times, he seeks 'insight' from his mind in a deliberately unconscious/non-sleep state," he replied.

"He claims to be talking with spirit powers. I know when he returns to consciousness, he delivers useful intelligence. I'm not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or psychic. I don't know why his mind functions that way. I do know results. And I know I work with people who would achieve those results by other means if it were at all possible. Since we haven't found another method, we accept that from time to time, Mr. Nyilas will be rendered unconscious for the benefit of the team."

"So you would beat him to death for 'results'?" she squared off with the Brit.

"No. That is horribly simplistic, Ms. Kutuzov," Chaz exhaled evenly. "I value Cáel’s life deeply. Not only is he a genuinely decent human being, his actions have saved millions of lives. It is not a matter of hurting him in order to save one life, or five, or ten. It is never that clear-cut. I know Cáel is in his right mind and trying to make a difference. I owe it to him to support him when I can."

"Today, right now, it means I fulfilled a requirement for his inner psychic workings. Had he been confused, or near death, I would have refused. As your daughter can explain better than I, working with Cáel Nyilas gives 'complicated' a whole new meaning."

Nikita nodded vigorously.

"Fine," Sarge folded her arms. To me: "Maybe you can explain what the panic is all about."

"This will make as much sense as the plot of A Stranger Gets Mean," I rolled my shoulders. I was putting my shirt back on, buying time.

"Which one is that?" Pamela gave me a twist of the lips ~ a smirk-in-training.

"The last of the A Stranger films with Tony Anthony," I smiled her way.

"The one with the sneaky gunslinger, the Princess, the Moors and the generic barbarian horde?"

"Yeah."

"How can you know, ah, in the first film, the girl with the whip," Pamela got snarky.

"Don't obfuscate the question," Sarge persisted.

"I'm not. How does a young man not know Unforgiven, which won four Academy Awards, yet knows all four of the A Stranger films, which I'm sure no one else here has ever heard of," Pamela grinned at the other older woman.

"Maybe, kinda, sorta and it was at a film festival in Keene," I supplied the alternate answer.

"Sgt. Kutuzov, I work with horrible people and the best reason I can think of to keep going back to work is around me right now," I let my eyes flicker from her steely gaze to the assembly. "The truth is, I was in danger and at a moment's notice, seventeen people showed up to help. That I worked my way through the dilemma before you arrived doesn't diminish, in my eyes, what so many were willing to do on my behalf."

"So,"

"So, the women is evil and part of the leadership of a faction your government is allied with in the goings-on elsewhere around the globe. By evil, I mean ritualized rape to breed future pawns for their struggle, plus human sacrifice and blood offerings on a regular basis, in addition to the usual bad. I had to impress upon her I was going to be a useful ally," and heading off the accusing looks, "and in a manner which went way beyond bedroom antics.

"See, it turns out my side is inadvertently doing shit which could bring about the end of the world," I lathered it on. "No lie. Don't trust me. Trust the look in the eyes of people who know and work with me." I let the Hounds and Sarge do just that. "So, the people we are fighting, are trying to save the world, but for their own selfish ends, which don't work out well for anyone standing in this circle we have today."

"So, I have to balance keeping my side safe ~ thus endangering existence ~ and stop our opposition, yet keep them in play long enough to tie up the forces actually trying to destroy all life on Earth, at least until I can deal with them too. That has been my afternoon so far," I finished up.

Yep. I was a nutty-nut bar slathered in nut crumbs and buttered in nut oil. Then the 'sane' folks looked at the other supposedly 'sane' folks who doubled as my co-workers. Even Nikita, who hadn't been 'read-in' to most of what JIKIT did, was nodding along, totally accepting my blathering's as gospel.

"Special Agent Maddox, is it?" Mamma Kutuzov turned on the one other adult she might respect, the Federal law-dog.

"Sergeant, I've seen things I'm unsure about. Of greater importance, I've seen otherwise completely sane, rational people behave inexplicably around Cáel, for both good and ill."

"Would I stand in front of the Head of the FBI and testify Cáel Nyilas Wakko Ishara was a supernatural entity, I'm afraid I would. I can't pinpoint any precise act. It is more how those who know him react to things he does which he shouldn't be able to do, telling us things he has no rational explanation to know and speaking in languages he's never been known to be in contact with before," Virginia forged ahead.

"Then you take in the evaluations of the other 'normal' people we work with, people like the Color Sergeant here and Special Agent Loire. When service professionals start referring to the people in the field they are working with as 'Ninja'. Or how the Great Khan, a man Cáel’s age, ruthlessly leads one of the largest nation's on Earth and considers Cáel his brother," she left her thoughts about the Great Khan dangling.

"So your engagement to this Sulkanen woman is politically-based," Mamma turned on me. Oh, the 'had I been toying with Nikita' question.

"I don't look at it that way," I met her stare. "Hana has been working overtime to make our union something more than a hollow parody. Sadly, my grotesque life is relentless and maturity is not something I ever had planned to embrace."

"Now I'm looking at fatherhood times eleven," I got out in a wistful tone.

"Eleven?" multiple voices chorused.

"One is with Hana," I aimed at Nikita and Nikita's mom. The pace of my declaration meant I wasn't a Lothario, or dead-beat Dad. I was happy about having children, unhappy about marriage, yet accepting my 'screw-ups' as my responsibilities.

"This is because you are the last of your bloodline?" Flannery questioned.

"I don't like thinking of my sons and daughters that way, but yes. Of my Father's family, outside his unmarried sister, I'm it. I am also expected to establish alliances with other entities and often the only value we share is our love of our offspring."

"Is anyone else 'contributing'?" Mamma persisted. Pamela frowned. Not good.

"Havenstone is notorious for not sharing, working poorly with others and for holding male lives valueless, so until my arrival, such deals were not possible. Within Havenstone, they do have the custom of adopting daughters," I hurried things along. "Within the other two groups we are allying with, such blood exchanges are more common."

"Is this practice going to stop when you are married?"

"No."

"Mom," Nikita intervened, "Cáel isn't leading these women on. I admit his, and their, behavior is odd. His whole life is rather inexplicable. You'd have to see him interacting with his co-workers to understand how much words fail to describe what it's like around him."

"Nikita, we can start by talking about these twelve," Mamma took in my Hounds with a sweeping arm gesture, "European girls showing up at the drop of a hat, plus my long history dealing with Marilyn Saint James and Desiree Fredrickson, both of whom I have suddenly stopped seeing... right after he showed up in their lives. I know Mr. Nyilas, Cáel, is miles beyond what you find in the pages of the New York Times. I'm worried about you."

"Wonderful. Let's get out of here," Pamela began to corral us. As we began moving along, Virginia pulled out her phone and gave 'work' a call: They'd found me and I was okay. Me? I couldn't chat at the moment. I had a 3:30 pm with Oneida (and Shawnee for some portion of the meeting no doubt; I was making her a grandmother).

"I've been talking with Pamela and I may have a way out of your conundrum with these twelve," Chaz sidled up to me. The twelve in question were in hushed conversation in four languages, going over what the first three had seen.

"Yes?" I looked his way. He seemed especially serious.

"Yes. We Tomorrows have a few people schooled in the military arts. Notably, my Uncle Mason, former SAS with 30 years in, my cousin Tanwen Tomorrow, has been a staff instructor for the Honorable Artillery Company (she was not an artillerists), my older sister Estelle ~ now a Carew, former Royal Marines and my older brother Todd, former SRR, are all currently capable of doing you, me and the world a favor."

"They'd train my, Hounds? Not kill them?"

"As you pointed out, there is more to a person than physical strength. There is character and willingness to dare. There is a spirit of adventure and a desire to risk not only their lives, but save the lives of the woman next to them. Fighting skills, endurance and discipline can be instilled with the proper training and motivation. You provide the motivation. Let my clan provide the rest," Chaz offered.

"Who will I owe?"

"Me and mine, Cáel. You are the Head of an Amazon First House, Blood-brother to the Great Khan, Diplomat of the Host, father to a wonderful little girl and grandson to a woman who is as much family to me as anyone born of my blood, or who I have ever had the pleasure to spill blood beside," he confided.

"Okay."

"Do me a favor?" he asked softly.

"Sure."

"I think I might be a father. Getting her to talk about it, isn't happening and this isn't something I can ask Pamela to look into," he requested. Chaz had been banging one of the SD ladies assigned to JIKIT's protection force. A man of Chaz's character wasn't the type to mosey through the available herd. No, he'd picked one and, since things had worked out, he'd loyally stuck with her.

Neither lover would mention 'word-one' about a commitment. And if she was pregnant, it was easy to conclude she would believe it was none of his concern. If it was a male, we wouldn't know until, month four and a half, or five,

"Name?"

"Tavi Gentry, of House Stolgos."

I recalled her ~ around thirty, black hair, caramel skin, short (5' 4") with small breasts with wide hips and a tight, hard body.

"I'll find out," I grinned. "Of more immediate concern to you, as of 7:30 this morning, all male Amazon children are to be given over to the Royal House instead of slain. I'm already working on exemptions for myself and the future House SzelAnya."

"How did you pull that off?"

"Thank Queen Aya next time you see her," I grew crafty. I should have known better. Chaz hid his surprise too well.

"I'll do that."

I saw Pamela looking my way intently. Her eyes bugged out and she mouthed 'Aya?', then a huge 'Wow!' I was glad someone was both happy and surprised.

{3:00 pm Sunday, September 7th ~ last day}

"Now aren't you glad we tagged along?" Pamela said loudly enough to draw attention from the onlookers. She was still beating me up for sending Juanita away and for running off with an avatar-Goddess of the Cult of the Jaguar. But we would have been drawing attention anyway.

See, I was in my least-favorite place to get beat up: the Full-blooded gym at Havenstone. Oh, the Amazons knew me by now. They knew Pamela too. It was my other four 'guests' which were drawing the attention/ire. Three were 'outsider' women:

FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox was known to a few of the Security Services and the Security Detail Amazons, who quickly spread the word about who she was. If they hadn't, well her grey workout attire with yellow FBI lettering on it would have helped clarify any confusion.

The other two were New York Police officers Nikita Kutuzov and her mother, Larisa (aka 'The Desk Sergeant'). Those two were with me because Larisa had been insistent on coming and Pamela had publically announced it was a 'capital idea', there-by vacating my veto.

"I thought you were a bigwig?" Larisa Kutuzov had accused me.

"I am, but she scares everyone," I'd shrugged helplessly. Larisa then looked to Pamela, who shrugged as if she couldn't understand why anyone would be afraid of her. So those two, dressed in navy blue workout attire labeled NYPD with golden lettering, were also accompanying me into Pain Central.

Had those three outsiders not been with me, it wouldn't really have mattered in the 'attention getting' department because my fourth guest was Chaz. Yeah, Chaz. Mind you, Chaz hadn't wanted to come either, but Pamela insisted I might need help before all this shit sorted itself out.

Chaz wasn't as 'pretty' as me, but compensated by possessing the aura of a professional elite warrior ~ calm, detached and unflappable in a crisis such as calmly walking into a room where 200 women wanted to kill you:

... a third of them wanted to rape you, then kill you,

... another third wanted to kill you by raping you (Chaz was awfully 'manly' after all),

... and the balance just wanted to kill you and move on to whatever was next.

Now, what the fuck was I doing in the Full-blooded gym? I had promised to meet Oneida to discuss our hastily revealed 'Warrior's Love' during this morning's council session, right before Rhada attacked her. But why was Oneida meeting me in the gym?

As I scanned about upon entry, I saw Oneida and my heart sank. My bad day clearly was not getting better. A portion of the sparring mats closest to me had been cleared out for a circular meeting of kneeling Amazons, who were most certainly waiting for 'Yours Truly'. Thirteen Amazons were waiting for me. I knew them all, five intimately. Closest to my left were three members of House Zorja: House Head Jana, her Apprentice Marlene and my old buddy Elsa.

To their left were Shawnee and Oneida of House Arinniti. Opposite me was the Keeper of Records, Krasimira, with the augur Tad fi and their guardians; Sikia and the persistently with Krasimira whose name I'd never gotten. Beside them were Mahdi and Rhada. Closing the circle were the Head and Apprentice of House Bendis: Klavdiya and Gale.

The moment I saw Tad fi, any half-assed plan I was cobbling together flew out the window. Sikia was holding Tad fi's hand which she clenched when she caught sight of me. I hadn't believed I would ever see the augur alive again, yet here she was. Fuck it all. I was vaguely aware of Pamela telling Chaz and Virginia to 'clear the road'.

"Ishara," the Apprentice of House Maeve, Rhonwenn, decided to make a protest in front of the onlookers, "these strangers are not welcome." She moved toward me. By the five companions she was bringing along, she expected some level of resistance. Fortunately, she was addressing me/us in Old Kingdom Hittite, which meant only Pamela and I understood what the heck she was saying.

"Rhonwenn," I turned on her with teary eyes, "the Mother of my first born daughter is here when it was prophesied I would never hold her again this side of the cliffs. If I hug her, I can hug them both and show them I share my love," I led with my heart's song.

"First born?" Rhonwenn frowned.

"Yes. By Ishara's command, the augur Tad fi was the first to have her destiny twisted by the Goddess. The price will be her life to bring the first Isharan daughter to her first breath. In a dream, I was told I would never see her again," I moved past her.

"What of the strangers?" she followed along.

"Leave this to me," Pamela grabbed Rhonwenn's arm and pulled her aside. The old witch had arranged things so Nikita and Mamma peeled off to support her, leaving Virginia to cover our back and Chaz to watch my other flank.

I stepped between Elsa and Klavdiya Bendis, vaguely asking for their pardon as I passed them. Tad fi seemed sullen, so I boomed subsonic rumblings from deep within my diaphragm. It was a wordless message to her. Murmurs of 'Cael' and 'Ishara' floated around. I wanted to hug Tad fi; I fell to my knees before her. My hands flew to her hips as she reached out, determined to find me despite her blindness.

Her fingers brushed along my chest. I was dead set on showering her face with kisses. Tad fi's right hand danced to my lips while her left hand's fingertips traced along my tear tracks. She started to weep too.

"You are crying," Tad fi needlessly pointed out.

"I thought I would never see you again," I breathed over her fingers.

"The Goddesses often show us what might be, not what must be," her words lilted harmonically. "Perhaps you bear such grief, you have recast the Weave itself, my Cáel."

I had to think about that for a second. The Weave operated outside the strictures of Time as we humans saw it. It acting in a compassionate way toward me wasn't something I was seriously entertaining, but perhaps my actions had tripped up a few things. I certainly felt I needed a few extra hugs.

"Could it not be the love of Tad fi which has altered events?" I turned things around. "You are the first mother-augur I've ever heard of." Yeah, I was ignoring the crowd around us. It was both good and bad. Bad was me showing affection to one lady when I was here for showing affection to too many women (in their opinion.) The good was me paying attention to the one who had the least, the one whose fate the rest would simply rather not think about.

"I am an augur. I," her words trailed off. She was a slave to the Weave; a sacrifice by the Host to the mysticism of the world around them. However an augur ended up casted as an augur, I always had the impression her sisterhood quickly tried to forget them as the individuals they had once been. Well screw that notion. A hand came to rest on my shoulder. It was the guardian, Sikia. Whatever everyone else thought, I was earning serious Brownie points in her book.

"Hey Sikia. Sorry. Didn't mean to ignore you," I gave a sheepish grin.

"I understand, Ishara," she bowed her head slightly. "Tad fi told me of your visitation." For me it had been a dream. For Tad fi, it had been a waking moment. Krasimira coughed. I had business to attend to.

"Right-O!" I said as I kissed the augur's fingers. Next, I leaned awkwardly over and gave a full, lusty French kiss to Sikia.

That wasn't what most of the attendees thought I was supposed to be doing, but I still had to be me. I pushed up rapidly to both keep the initiative and to give the impression I was about to topple over backwards. I needed that split-second of uncertainty from a certain someone. I spun, slipped my right hand behind Rhada's neck and planted my lips firmly on hers.

I was standing up, towering over the Indian Princess, so she had to bend her body backwards as I pressed in. The 'oh please fuck me now' moan boiled up from deep within Rhada and couldn't be misunderstood by anyone who had been given an orgasm which took them to the peak of their physical and mental limitations. The person I had to make 'uncertain' wasn't Rhada, it was Mahdi.

In this instant, Rhada needed to know she mattered to me most of all. The rest could be relied on to create emotional-social constructs to explain our chaotic relationship. Rhada and I were too raw. She needed an open and public declaration I wasn't going anywhere or denying there was an 'us'. When I finally pulled away, Rhada's eyes were feverish, her bosom heaved with passion and I'd banished her doubts. Oh, and Mahdi was furious.

"Mahdi," I bowed in acknowledgment, spun away before her retort spilled forth, took five steps and went to one knee before Oneida. I leaned in awkwardly; Oneida figured out my intentions and met my embrace halfway. Our kiss, while packing in all the accessories, was more sedate and romantic ~ what Oneida deserved. I left her smiling. Better for me, I left with Shawnee giving me a veiled sign of her approval. I hadn't gone to Oneida first, but she recognized I was acting in a diplomatic fashion, which was probably for the best as far as the Host was concerned.

In a maneuver reminiscent of a Cossack, I went knee to knee from Oneida to Gale. Gale recoiled. We'd had sex, not a relationship.

"May I kiss your hand?" I requested. She shot her House Head a worried look.

"Isn't it a little late for that," Klavdiya's words dripped with venom. What I hadn't appreciated was while Klavdiya was the House Head, she also was Gale's 'Big Sister'. Whoops.

I risked it and took Gale's hand anyway.

"For friendship and respect," I planted a firm kiss on her knuckles. "For affection and gratitude," I said as I turned her hand over and planted delicate kisses on her fingertips and finally her palm. It took her a second to play catch-up.

"What are you grateful for?" Gale asked.

"Oh," I faux-hesitated. "Well, our love-making was wonderful for me. I hoped," and Gale blushed.

"Chaz, do you like seafood?" Pamela asked casually (and in English).

"I'm from an island-nation. It is somewhat of a necessity," he replied deadpan. I kept deep, meaningful eye-contact with Gale, seemingly ignoring the mutterings around us. Implying any woman you've slept with, even as a One Night Stand, had been a completely memorable experience is an indispensable dating skill (i.e., so please ignore the other women presently bearing my children, my fiancée and my other past, current and hopefully future sexual misadventures.)

"Would you let my sister's hand go?" Klavdiya growled (back to IN HITTITE). I was on the sparring mat, so force escalation was highly likely. I reluctantly released Gale's hand. She had the ego-boosting effect of sighing as she let my hand slide away from hers.

"So," I looked around as I stood. "Why are we here?"

"The Queen wishes peace," Krasimira began. I felt warm inside. Aya was looking out for me.

"Cool," I beamed. "Where do I sit?"

"Where is the rest of House Ishara?" Krasimira's gaze flickered to the outsiders with me.

"I travel alone. These are Pamela Cotytto's buddies," I lied. That earned a whole series of looks for both me and my entourage.

"Oh," Krasimira accepted my lie at face value. "Pamela, you are not welcome here at this meeting."

"I choose to be rude," Pamela responded.

"This has been long overdue," Elsa stood. I had no idea who would win an Elsa vs. Pamela fight. I wasn't going to find out today because a dozen Amazons looked ready to make this an unfair brawl.

"Okay," I intervened. "I had a fight with my bodyguard earlier today, then a confrontation with the Cult of the Jaguar this afternoon which required Pamela and the rest having to come rescue me. Besides, the rest don't speak our language."

"You are among sisters, Ishara," Krasimira chided me. "Practice the truth."

I didn't scoff. That would have been impolite and highly unwise. "I'll do my best," I bowed my head. "I'll also stand here in the middle, since everyone else seems comfortable." That meant no one would have to make space for Pamela and company.

"As I said," Krasimira began again, "our Queen wishes peace between our houses and hopes the blood of Ishara can facilitate this somewhat."

'Oh, they are going to take turns beating me up,' was the first thing to come to my mind and probably some others' as well.

"How so?" I asked first. The words were forming on other lips as I spoke.

"By the adoption of daughters among those gathered here," Krasimira stated.

"No!" Rhada blurted out. Oneida's hand protectively went over her womb.

"For peace," Krasimira suggested to Rhada. Mahdi was livid over our shared indiscretion as well as Rhada's outburst. If Rhada hadn't already been placed on the Regency Council, Mahdi might have removed her status as Apprentice.

"What does this have to do with us?" Jana Zorja gave a worried look.

"It was thought a child of Elsa Zorja and Cáel Ishara could be adopted by House Meenakshi (aka Mahdi and Rhada)."

"We have not had intercourse," Elsa clarified at her House Head's glance, "though if I had, it would be none of your business since I am presently with the Security Detail." Jana bristled, as did Marlene.

"I do not sleep with every Amazon I feel a connection with here at Havenstone," I protested. "And at the start I always used a condom. Even with the Goddess Ishara's command, I have never wanted to bring any woman grief. I certainly don't want to create trading tokens because of some feud which happened before I stepped foot in this wacky place. Besides, Gale might not be,"

"I am," Gale sulked.

"Fine," I soaked up more bad news from the Man-Dog-Pig perspective, "I will not agree to trade a single child of Ishara."

"Besides," Mahdi glowered at Rhada, "it could be a son." Ouch. Rhada looked as if her mother had just slapped her; worse, had strangled her favorite kitten before her eyes.

"We can settle that matter," Krasimira continued guiding the meeting. "We are in the presence of an augur after all." Oh, that was why I was meeting Tad fi here! "It helps if she has a link to the fate of a person she seeks to investigate as well as something the person loves."

"Oh, so we are going to castrate him and hand her his balls?" Mahdi muttered. Whoa now!

"Such as?" I inquired.

"A personal belonging, or body part; hair will do," Krasimira informed me.

"Oh," I sighed happily. I went over to Tad fi, knelt before her and took her right hand to place upon my lips. "To read the fates of me and my children, you need some of my hair or that of someone I love?"

"Yes," she smiled.

"Your hair will do, if there is any doubt, Tad fi."

"I knew that," she announced, "but I wanted to 'hear' you say it," she shared her joy with the crowd.

"Would it help to have some of my hair as well?" I proffered.

"It would indeed," her lips trembled sensuously. I pulled out my trusty Amazon blade and sawed off a few locks while she did the same. I handed them over.

"Step back," Sikia cautioned me. She didn't need to. The moment my hair touched Tad fi's hands, other presences entered the room behind her ~ terrifying and majestic in their power, the goddesses and mystic protectors of the augurs, Istustaya and Papaya.

They seemed to be as surprised I could see them as I was to be seeing them. The room's dimensions distorted and lost all clear points of reference. It was the illusions which concealed the Weave being laid bare. Unlike her sisters, Tad fi's life's essence was burning down brightly to a very pre-determined end, the birth of our daughter, Shala; there would be no slow, lingering demise for her. Added to that, she was the Sixth Augur.

When the other five augurs had pierced the Veil of the Weave with her to find the Ally the Host needed most, the agony had been too much for them. The Five had soaked up all that pain and agony, ending their lives so the Sixth could bear the message to the person the Weave dictated could wield the news most effectively, me.

As 'payment', Dot Ishara had insisted I have sex with Tad fi, guaranteeing the death of her poison-racked body with the birth of our offspring. I had done so callously. Tad fi had done so, for her own reasons, perhaps to end the echoes of the death screams of her sisters as they fulfilled their mission.

Now the possible destinies of my other children were being discussed and the two goddesses were making an appearance. Perhaps they were aware the Heir of Vranus was playing Russian roulette with Creation. More likely, they knew I was up to something, yet in the tangled weave of all the possible futures, they couldn't tell what dangers existed amid all the darkness and confusion.

Tad fi spit into her hands as she rolled our combined hairs together. When she had created one long strand, she began to pull the concoction apart. The first effort fell into two parts. I didn't know what to make of that. Thank goodness I'm not an augur.

"I see a, closet," the augur's brow furrowed. "A woman in shadow, a fast horse, bearing messages,"

I had to put that together. My closet-ninja who I'd ridden like the Pony Express, Miyako Yuki.

"A member of the 7 Families of the Ninja," I provided.

"Twin daughters," Tad fi made her prediction. Wow! Lithe, slender Miyako with twins would be tough. I had to get word to her. How had Saku missed that? Twin souls?

"Ah, Fushichou and Yozora," I conjured the second name. "That is Suwais-urāni and Ispantnepi  in our tongue."

The next was an equitable serpentine entwining of her white hair and my black.

"Peaceful, beautiful and strong of body and mind, an exemplar of our people, Parvati?" Tad fi worked through the next bit of soothsaying. Her face clouded, even as Rhada's brightened. "She will die still in her youth ~ much loved and a bitter foe." When an augur predicted 'peaceful' she didn't mean 'non-violent', she meant 'of calm mind'. 'Youth' didn't mean child; it meant in your first decade of being caste. Still, that sucked big time for the three of us ~ Mother, Father and Daughter.

"My granddaughter will die a hero of the Host?" Mahdi murmured. 'Bitter Foe' meant 'hated by our enemies' thus a memorable threat to them. The augur was still in the midst of her soothsaying.

The third casting was a bit of hair in a loop.

"A son of two houses and three lives, many loving sisters and favored by his mothers."

Hmm, two houses was easy: Amazon and someone else. Three lives, I knew one group who played at being a third person ~ the Hashashin.

"Bih l asan," I supplied the name Estere Abed and I had been toying with. In Kurdish it meant 'keep it simple'. What better advice could I give a son of mine?

"A daughter of Bendis," Tad fi announced as she traced a corkscrewed bit of bound hair. Gale gasped. "Inky blackness, a night sky with few stars, a place which is cold beyond cold, yet warmed by hope and fearlessness, the Moon grows small, yet is strong in her heart."

Sounded like utter nonsense, except I worked with JIKIT. It only took me a few seconds.

"Gale, our daughter is going to be an astronaut," I turned her way. Skepticism and disbelief surrounded me. "Gale, her God-uncle is the Great Khan, who not only controls the largest Russian spaceport, he also has captured the largest spaceport in China as well. He controls the third spaceport in China too, if you want to rub it in," I added. "And, if the Amazons do send someone into space, who better than a child of the Moon?" Bendis was the Thracian Lunar deity.

"Why?" Gale finally asked.

"Did our Queen not say 'the world is too small a place'?" I answered. "Why shouldn't the Amazons seek a future out among the stars? We have certainly headed out into the dangerous Unknown before and survived. Now we have access to the resources to help us do just that."

"Those are outsiders," Gale protested. House Bendis was part of the Conservative faction of the Council.

"I'm not making this up, Gale. Tad fi is. Have you thought of a name?"

"Ah, no."

"How about Hantezzi-pēda?" I suggested. It had two meanings. Long form: 'First Place'. Short form: 'Lucky'. I left her to digest that because the augur hadn't stopped.

"A large temple without a roof filled with people, a son and daughter, a white stallion rises up upon the graves of thirteen kings. A gift of two rivers steeped in blood. Ana-Călina," she stumbled over the names, "and  rp d." The last name I knew, which boiled back to the roofless temple ~ the Sz kesfeh rv r Basilica in Hungary where I planned to marry Hana was a ruin, roofless. Two sets of twins? My family didn't have a history of twins. I'd check with Hana, but I strongly suspected my matron deity sticking it to me once again.

Maybe I should buy my own daycare center. Maybe Pamela looks like she wants to slap me upside my head too.

"A boy born in hatred with a heart which heals if he," the vision appeared to confuse Tad fi, which was ugly to contemplate. That would most likely mean others fucking with the Weave as well. "Borne in safety by a ghost and a name, Hana." A pause. That vision had been physically costly for the augur. So many women hated me, a ghost?

" infean (AWN f'yun), known by another name not her own, Bansealgaire, not our own," more painful, mystic discombobulation on her part. Fortunately, I didn't know the names, but I know the second name's ethnic point of origin, Irish. Aunt Imogen.  infean Bansealgaire meant, stormy huntress, Sweet! Now if I only knew which side that daughter would end up on.

"The Trickster, Shining Son of the Sun who jests and whose great heart remains untouched, no matter what the burden, Ash," Tad fi regained some of her focus. This one had to be Oneida and my offspring ~ a son. I stole a glance at her face. She was stunned, not heartbroken.

"We will name him Bruce," I expelled my worry, "in honor of the quintessential 'Ash' man."

"Who?" she looked up at me, teary-eyed.

"When I come back from the Great Hunt we'll spend a weekend watching all the Evil Dead films," I got out.

"And Bubba Ho-Tep," Pamela tacked on.

"And Sundown," I almost missed yet another Campbell Cult-Classic.

"Focus Ishara," huffed Krasimira maternally.

"I'm about to have a dozen children. I want to die," blurted forth from my lips.

"I thought this would be welcome news Cáel," Tad fi wailed. She'd exerted so much effort on my behalf, only to have me act spasmodically infantile?

"It isn't you, Tad fi," I soothed her with both words and a gentle hand along her jawline from earlobe to her lower lip. "I didn't come to Havenstone expecting Fatherhood; and I know for a fact every House Head present has 'okayed' the murder of at least one infant boy, so I don't trust a single one of them, which means I have to take full responsibility for every male child."

"And you remain an 11th year in your heart," she reasoned.

"Yeah, pretty much." '11th year', an Amazon 'pre-Test', thus free of any true duties. I let her slump into me. Her guardian deities had faded into the Aether, so it was safe for her to be human again. "Wait. How come you understand that when no one else does?"

"I have seen your spirit-self, Cáel Ishara," she reminded me. "The real you."

"We seem to be no closer to resolving our disputes," Jana interrupted my bonding moment.

"What do you want?" I slowly repositioned myself so I had Tadifi in my lap, facing me. It was somewhat sexual, but it allowed her to regain some comfort from her ordeal. Sikia was very close by.

"Redress of Meenakshi insults," Jana derided me.

"Don't be a child," I spat back before Mahdi could get her own vicious licks in. Jana's face clouded, as did Marlene's and Elsa's.

 To be continued.

By FinalStand for Literotica.