Podcasts about Black Sands

The last days before the Great Hunt.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.“Can the scorpion ever stop being a scorpion? “"Do we get our legally permitted weaponry back?" The bishop still held my hand."Sure. If it makes you feel better.""I would like to meet your people then," he gave my paw one last shake then released me. "Shall we go?""I will have someone take you to your car. I want to briefly meet with the President, of Havenstone, then I'll join you in the garage. We'll drive over to JIKIT and I'll make the introductions. Good enough?""That is acceptable," he nodded."What about you two?" I regarded the nun and the Swiss Super-soldier. The nun remained vigilant, and silent. The Swiss' eyes flickered to his boss before settling back on me."It is what I volunteered for," he stated firmly."Okay. Please never say I didn't give you a chance to take the sane way out. Also, Bishop Nicolö, circumstances have conspired to up my prospective wedding date to January 1st.""That will be more difficult. Why the change?" he remained grim."We are having twins. By March, this will be very visible.""That is, unfortunate," he shook his head."You have no idea," and then a brainstorm. "And I am curious about resurrecting the Order of the Dragon, the Societas Draconistarum." Technically that meant 'Society of the Dragonists' which was more appropriate than the literal Ordo Draconis."Precisely how do you plan to recreate a crusading Christian Order which was the purview of the Hungarian monarchs?" he didn't sound the least skeptical, just curious."I have billions of euros to fund such a thing," I winked. "Of far greater critical importance, I know where I can find the supernatural guidance and spiritual imperative for such an organization.""You are going to produce a dragon?" his eyes grew larger even as he fought down his fear. Good man. He was adaptive. He'd need to be."I never said such a thing. That would make me sound crazy," I smiled broadly. "Besides, when I say 'dragon', you think 'devil' and that's way too pedestrian for where we are going.""I am not a moral relativist.""Neither am I. I'm out to save lives and nurture the drive in the human spirit to reach for freedom, love and liberty. As you might imagine, I'm pretty freaking outnumbered.""I think you are crazy," he re-evaluated things."I just might be. In all honesty, you should back out now. Take your two compadres back to 25 East 39th Street (the Holy See's Permanent Observer Offices to the UN in NYC) and report 'Mission Failure'. You'll most likely live longer," I reasoned."I am not afraid to die," Sister Rafaela Sophia finally voiced an opinion."That's idiotic," I scoffed before the bishop could reprimand her for opening her mouth. "You should be.""My soul is in God's hands," she set her jaw."Does he talk to you?" I countered."His message is clear.""Not what I asked. I asked if he specifically directed you to toss your life fruitlessly away as an object lesson for the reckless, or careless?""This is uncalled for," Nicolö intervened."Nope. I bet you a phone call to my Brother to physically restore your bishopric that there are four people in this room who have murdered in cold blood," I kept eye contact with the nun, "and she's the odd one out. Right Juanita?""Yes, Ishara," Juanita slipped up. Her spycraft, like mine, needed work."You were in the military?" the bishop asked my bodyguard."Was? I am. Right now," she related. "I will be until I die."That earned me looks from the three Catholics."She is loyal," Nicolö nodded slightly toward her, referring to Juanita's declaration."Huh? To me? Nope. She's loyal to my office, which we shan't get into right now. Back to you, Sister Rafaela Sophia. Are you out to be a martyr, or has some saint, or angel, given you a directive the other two seem to be unaware of which causes you to devalue your life?""I am devoted to the One True God, Christ, our Savior," and Juanita snorted, "and the Virgin Mary," the nun stated firmly. "I don't hear voices in my head.""Juanita, that was rude. Apologize to our guest," I kept looking forward."No." Well, fuck you too."Gun," I commanded. I held out my left hand."What? No. I will not give you one of my guns," she resisted."Juanita, give me your primary weapon, or I will ask Pamela to beat you up the moment I depart for the Great Hunt. After yesterday's stunt, you know she will," I threatened. Fair, I was not. She drew a Glock-20 and handed it to me. I went through the routine, dropped the magazine then ejected the round before opening the door.Oh look, there were four SD chicks outside, ready to escort my visitors downstairs. I didn't even need to waste a phone call. It wasn't like the conference room wasn't being monitored."Excuse me," I took a half step out the door then hurled all three items down the hall. Looking back at Juanita. "Go fetch.""Fuck you," she snapped."And insulting her faith was as degrading to both her faith and her as me doing this to you is degrading to you right now," I lectured her. "It is important to her, therefore it is important to me because she is my guest in the same way it is important to me that I let my bodyguard do her job without being a total asshole all the time. Now go get your God-damn weapon," I barked. Off she went. I left the door open."Now Sister Rafaela Sophia, the point of all this is: I don't give a crap if you are willing to die for God. In fact, that makes you less than worthless to me and the team. I want to know if you are willing to put other motherfuckers in the ground so that Bishop Nicolá, or Mathias, might get to keep doing their jobs.""Murder is a sin," she declared."Go home," I sighed while shaking my head."She answers to me, the Church and God, not you, Mr. Nyilas," the bishop stepped forward."Then you can go home too," I shrugged. "I'm not asking for remorseless killers. I'm asking for people willing to kill to get the hard work done and best of all, for people who know the difference.""Everyone on JIKIT is a professional soldier, or killer?" he asked."No, but the ones who aren't don't carry guns and know to get down when things get funky," I bantered."I vouch for her," he insisted. Juanita came running back into the room."Cool beans. I don't know you either.""You apparently know my service history," he volleyed."Yeah. Ten years a foreigner in the service of France, then you went straight into a university which turns out Jesuits," I riposted."What turned your life around?" he evaded. That was okay. I'd gotten what I wanted. I was willing to bet he had read every bit of public information about me and it was rumored the heavy Catholic membership in the FBI had its benefits to the Church as well. Not so much as to give them insight into JIKIT, but,"Someone risked their life for me. It's been pretty much downhill from there," I confessed. It was the truth. After Katrina gave me the life line on Day Two, it had all spiraled to the revelation of my heritage, Dad's death, Summer Camp, the Hamptons, Romania and Aya's kidnapping."A person, a soldier, died saving my life," the bishop empathized. "Her story is similar. She seeks redemption. She is not suicidal. I am staking both our lives on it."Did he mean him and Mathias, or him and me? I wasn't certain. Still, it was good enough for now. I'd gotten a look at their emotional make up, even the relatively quiet Swiss."Very well," I agreed. "I have to go see the President about my new job description. I'll catch up with you at your car." To the SD team leader, "Take them to the garage. I will join the group of you very soon.""Yes Ishara," she nodded. I exited the room, Juanita in tow. Two SD entered. I was gone before the Papal team left. Upstairs we went, with one last chore to discharge. I had to check on Ms. French to be absolutely freaking sure it was Shawnee, because anyone else would spell disaster.{8:30 am, Monday, September 8th. Last day}A Room full of asistants:Well, there it was, the office of the Executive Director to the President, and not 'Executive Assistant', because this was Katrina's final 'fuck you, no, just her final 'fuck you' before the Great Hunt got underway. I shouldn't assume things, dang it!Anyway, according to the gray-haired matron running gatekeeper to the Office of the President, this was where I was supposed to show up. I shot Juanita a worried look. She glanced my way and shrugged, momentarily willing to not give me shit about the past 24 hours because where I was situated would determine how easily she could do her job.In we went. In the suite were three desks, the 'big' desk situated at the far end of the office space and two far more modest ones on either side of the entryway. The room expanded beyond the chokepoint formed by the two closest desks into a cluttered area. The walls were cluttered with inset bookshelves and portraits of women. Facing one another were a loveseat on my left with bookend plush chairs in an 'L' facing and a full sofa on the right. There were end tables at the ends of the sofa and the corners between the loveseat and each chair.As the door opened, I hadn't knock as this was my office, or so it seemed, the occupants, who had all been sitting in quiet conversation in the central section, began reacting. Oh look ~ Constanza! I nearly had a heart attack before I realized there were three other Amazons also in the room. Sadly, none were behind the 'big desk', so I couldn't tell who was in charge. Two of the other three choices weren't too much better. First off,"Ishara," Marilynn Saint John stood to greet me. I'd last seen her when I'd dedicated her grandmother's (Hayden's) spirit to the halls of my ancestors, not hers, after forcing the political crisis leading to Hayden's suicide ~ her taking herself to the cliffs and in doing so, destroying the Amazon Cult of Blood Purity. Marilynne was clearly still bitter with me. Umm, I could still incite passion in women I hadn't slept with, yet, woot?"Cáel," the senior-most and only friendly face in the room spoke next. Thank goodness it was Beyoncé Vincennes, Head of House Hanwasuit and House Ishara ally."Cáel Ishara," the third individual was deferential which I wasn't sure how to take as the last time I'd encountered her, yeah, things hadn't gone well either."Beyoncé," I started off with a smile. From there, I had to figure out, ah, Beyoncé's eyes flickered to Constanza then Sabia. I knew Marilynn, with her young age, had the least seniority, "Constanza, Sabia, Marilynn. How's tricks?"Glum faces by everyone except Beyoncé. I didn't ask about Sabia's particular well-being. It had been months since I'd beaten her into the mats of the Full-blooded gym. She'd attacked Yasmin, the Brazilian Hottie and my Brazilian Jujutsu sparring buddy, and I'd retaliated by ambushed her when she turned her back on us. Besides, she'd been giving me shit before I even could see straight.Constanza was minus her left eye because of her dire insult to me. If she wasn't capable of working, she wouldn't be here. If she appreciated my 'mercy' in sparing her life ~ her insult was worthy of her death ~ Constanza hid it well. I hadn't spared her expecting a change of heart. I hadn't felt words alone warranted anyone's death. I was a big boy and could take a few insults. House Ishara, as represented by me, could care less. These days, my sisters would be less understanding despite them knowing my heart."Constanza Landau of House Jaya and Marilynn Saint John of House Anahit are Assistants to President Shawnee French," Beyoncé eased things along, "so will be working closely with us, at least for the short term. Sabia Noel of House Guabancex, who I now think you know as well, has joined you as the other 'Assistant' to the 'Executive Director to the President', (that would make me an 'adept', but adept at what?), and since two of the three Regents are unfamiliar with the workings of Havenstone proper, Shawnee has asked me to perform in that role."Beyoncé was, or had been, Havenstone HQ's CFO (Chief Financial Officer). From what I was quickly piecing together, she would essentially be making all the day-to-day decisions concerning the running of Havenstone (how the Host made the majority of its money) until the Regents got up to speed.Only Buffy had actual experience with the New York office and, from what she had told me, solely within Executive Services. While ES knew 'who' did what inside Havenstone, they weren't aware precisely how those Amazons got their jobs done. That would have been an impossible task. Katrina could do it, but she knew it was beyond the ability of most of us 'mere mortals'. Since we were currently at war, the Host needed Katrina completely focused on her duties as Chief Spy-mistress, not baby-sitting the adults.Shawnee indeed had much gravitas among the other House Heads. Not only had she risen up to lead a First House, she had performed heroically during the final days of the last Secret War. Afterwards she had moved into the realm of Amazon jurisprudence and mediation. Until yesterday, she had lived in a House Arinniti freehold in Minnesota's Great Lakes region thus her desire for the 'Training Wheels' period.The Regency would not rule through telecommunication (the upper echelons feared being eavesdropped upon beyond the standard Amazon (read: paranoid) levels) and Havenstone: New York was the center best situated for the current war-fighting operations, so here she lived. I was sure a team from Executive Services was buying, outfitting/spy-proofing and fortifying a dwelling suitable for the President of a Fortune 500 company. Hayden's home would remain the domicile of Sydney thus Marilynn.The same rigmarole would be done for Rhada and Buffy (though I imaged Buffy would bitch endlessly). Publically, they were VP's of a company worth hundreds of billions of dollars and they had to present the public trappings of such leaders.Why did the Amazons do this ~ unmask their leadership to public exposure? Legal-simple: they could request and expect all levels of public and private security for their executives who happened to also be important officials of the Host. Certainly not all executives at Havenstone were officeholders, House Heads, or House Apprentices, but the high level of competence which permitted one often led to the other.Beyonce:As an example: Beyoncé wasn't the most 'bad-ass' lethal chick in House Hanwasuit. As she was preparing to be casted, her intelligence, creativity and diligence at her future craft, finances, was noted by the Host and the members of her House. In due time her name was circulated as Apprentice and the elders approved. When her elder cousin, the prior House Head, took herself to the cliffs, Beyoncé assumed the top spot. Beyoncé wasn't even one of that woman's three daughters.Mirroring her advancement in her House was her advancement in Havenstone's Accounting, Acquisitions and Banking Divisions until she was appointed CFO Havenstone HQ ~ the supreme financial authority inside Havenstone, though the individual regional branches had a greater degree of autonomy than you might normally expect from a 21st century conglomerate, or a Bronze Age autocracy.I had to constantly remind myself, despite the near-constant feuding, Amazons exhibited a phenomenally higher level of trust than I'd ever found in any other society I'd ever witnessed, or read about, before. Though technically Beyoncé could have gone to President Hayden to enforce her decisions ~ or now the Regency ~ she was far more diplomatic in her approach in dealing with the other 'continental' CEO's and CFO's.That meant she had to wrangle the aspirations and resources from:North America (including Latin America, the 'Canadian Arctic' and the North Pacific Ocean),South America (includes both the South Atlantic and South Pacific as far as Samoa),Europe (mostly Central Europe these days plus Antarctica, the 'Russian' Arctic and the North Atlantic),Africa (mostly West-central Africa),India (the subcontinent plus the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean) and,Southeast Asia (which includes Australia)All of which suggested Havenstone hadn't redrawn the Amazons' geographic demarcations since the late 19th century. As an example, an East African venture, say in Tanzania, was as likely to be under the purview of Havenstone: India (due to its control over the Indian Ocean) as Havenstone: Africa (which traditionally had no East Coast holdings due to their constant struggles versus the Arabic slave trade).Returning to Beyoncé: initially she had held the proper 'conservative' (aka man-hating) mindset. My behavior during that first Board Meeting began to change her opinion of me and the New Directive. After the Archery Range incident, Beyoncé became a vocal proponent of the New Directive and faced challenges within her ranks. House Heads do not have to accept challenges and Beyoncé didn't, reasoning with her detractors they had no alternatives save the 'Old Ways' which spelled doom for the Amazon Race.Bing-bang-boom ~ I became the Head of a resurrected House Ishara by the Will of the Ancestors and Beyoncé was vindicated. Not necessarily in the New Directive, but in her support of me thus the rebirth of a sister First House. The purge following High Priestess' Hayden's death was her ultimate absolution. The Ancestors and Destiny had spoken and shown Beyoncé had been piloting House Hanwasuit along the proper course all along.Back to my current circumstances:Oh, why was I Assistant to the Executive Director to the President? It gave me direct access to the finances of Havenstone which was a critical leg of the war-fighting stool ~ people, morale, money and equipment. As Chief Diplomat, I helped with all four of those in varying degrees, allied troops, allied victories, allied bank accounts and allied armaments.The Great Khan, my spiritual 'Blood-Brother', was ramping up his logistic support for my Amazons in Africa, Asia and the Americas. We were 'Allies in the Struggle' and he wasn't going to wait for the Condottieri to begin coordinating with the Seven Pillars to declare them to be his enemies. They were already fighting the Amazons and 9 Clans, his allies, so their fates were sealed.In Japan, my Amazons provided small yet highly effective strike groups which the Ninja families furnished all the support services for. Everything from food to bullets to medical attention as needed. Without reservation, we shared their death-grapple with the Seven Pillars.From the dispatches I was getting back from my family members and envoys in Japan, we were making serious diplomatic inroads with the Ninja. Once again, it was the Amazons shocking capacity for violence as well as their fanaticism, professionalism and proficiency which all impressed our hosts and terrified our enemies, and this from people of a philosophical mindset which had them historically battling samurai.The Black Lotus were running around like rhesus monkeys on crack cocaine unleashed in a China Shop and given RPG's. While the Amazons couldn't help them in China, Indochina & Thailand ~ the Khanate could and was. The Amazons were of more help in the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia, where the Black Lotus and Amazons were going everywhere on the offensive against the Seven Pillars while the normal tight cohesion and iron-clad confidence, traits which made the 7P's so dangerous ~ were shaken by their horrendous losses in the 'Homeland' aka Mainland China.Less we forget, the 'military intelligence' wing of their organization had been decimated by the Khanate's Anthrax attack due to members of the Earth & Sky sacrificing themselves by being injected with the toxin then allowing themselves to be captured, which always ended in torture and death.Furthermore, the People's Republic of China, while having a scary 18% of the population either captured, imprisoned, dead, or displaced due to the Khanate invasion, that had come with the loss of 63% of their landmass (they had lost all of Nei Mongol, Ningxia & Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Regions, Qinghai and Gansu as well as 90% of Yunnan, 80% of Sichuan and 20% of Shaanxi provinces) to the Khanate and the 'abomination' that was a free Tibet.Then came the Russian 'stab in the back' which entailed the loss of another 10% of their people falling under foreign dominion as well as losing 8% of their most industrialized territory, Manchuria (Heilongjiang, Jilin and Liaoning provinces ~ the Nei Mongol portion of 'Manchuria' was in the Khanate's greedy clutches, from the viewpoint of a Seven P's warrior).Don't get me wrong, they weren't about to throw in the towel. If anything, they were becoming more dedicated to trying harder, digging deep into their knowledge of every atrocity, inhumanity and perversion now deemed necessary to re-chart history back onto its 'correct' path. It was this willingness to act in an even greater sociopathic manner which was being used against them. After all, the 7P's had plenty of proxy allies, who were starting to get really nervous about what their paymasters were now asking them to do,We Amazons were getting some extra special help too. The Booth-gan (Do not call them Thuggee ~ the confederate 9 Clan member based out of India though long since ensconced within various Hindi enclaves across the Globe) had created an all-female group of ultra-fanatical Kali-devotees ~ a gift for the upcoming battle fomented by the Will of the Goddess herself.While Aya was our Queen and the Regency would rule until she wished to assume command of the Amazon People, the nuts-and-bolts of the Host's activities were handled by Saint Marie as Golden Mare (our Minister of War) (technically she held the top spot due to our State of War, though no Golden Mare had ever exercised such authority over a Queen (and she definitely believed Aya was our Queen)), Katrina (as Minister of Intelligence and Security), Beyoncé (as Havenstone (the multinational corporation) ~ our Treasurer/Economic Tsarina) and me (our Foreign Minister).Saint Marie had decided to forgo a public face in order to better facilitate her moving around to various battle fronts and holding clandestine meetings with her junior regional commanders. Her Havenstone corporate title was 'Chief of Security Training and Certification'. As an extra level of deception, the head of Security Services wasn't even a Director-level position, instead being folded into the duties of the Office of the President.To my current circumstances ~ I had been given Constanza's house name which could only mean she wasn't currently assigned to the Security Detail; a fact that couldn't have made her bad attitude any better. Marilynn had completely lost her way as an Amazon when I first met her, burying her pain and confusion in endless partying and intoxicants. I believed only her grandmother's status as High Priestess kept her from the severest of reprimands, or death. I didn't even know what Marilynn's caste was. Sabia,"While I'm sure you are both far more qualified than I, precisely how did you two get these jobs?" I had to ask my two non-coworkers. Constanza glowered. Marilynn flinched."I have an in depth knowledge of Havenstone security procedures and resources," Constanza replied."Shawnee requested me," was Marilynn's comeback. "I also have intimate knowledge of the City of New York and its environs.""Actually, Buffy Ishara recommended you both to Shawnee," Beyoncé corrected their misconceptions. I knew the score. I'd be working intimately with the tight community around the President (Shawnee) and Vice Presidents (Buffy & Rhada). Buffy wanted me to be surrounded by women who hated my guts, so I wouldn't end up boinking them. It rarely worked that way. All too often ladies who hated my still-beating heart ended up punishing me with sex. I wasn't sure why that happened, but it did."Beyoncé, didn't the Chief Diplomat of the Host have her own office? I'm pretty sure Troika had one before her unfortunate collision with Saint Marie," I felt entitled to inquire."Do you feel you've earned that office space?" she riposted."Oh, fuck no!" I waved my hands one over the other to accentuate my denial. "I was just wondering where I could stick Juanita while I'm hanging around, here.""She has the desk right outside the door, Cáel," Beyoncé smiled knowingly. "So there is no way you can sneak past her.""Oh," I grunted. "Buffy again?""No. Pamela Pile put in that particular request.""Oh, Sweet Mother of God, now she is conspiring against me too?""Yes. Some of us realize the greatest hazard to your health is yourself, Ishara," Beyoncé chided me. "We'd like to keep you around, so we listen to those charged with that nigh impossible task.""Is she going to be hanging around the office often?" Constanza asked, either myself, Juanita, or Beyoncé; I wasn't sure. She = Pamela."Please, Constanza," I attempted to intervene, "don't make Pamela kill you. It will upset Mona." Constanza's scowl was accentuated by the eyepatch covering her ruined left socket, the one Pamela had carved out when Constanza had insulted me and House Ishara on our first day of rebirth. I didn't tell Juanita this, because Juanita might just shoot Constanza over the insult before Pamela got a chance to finish the job.The tension was palatable."Mona and I have talked, about Romania, and other things," Constanza grudgingly allowed. It took me a second to realize there was a hidden meaning to what she said. Mona was part of my personal Security Detail bodyguard unit. If she felt Constanza, the woman who had raised her after her birth-mother had died, was a threat to me, she'd feel duty-bound to snuff Constanza first. Amazons were hard-ass bitches alright and I think Mona had made that clear."I hope things can improve between us," I offered to Constanza. "Beyoncé, I just stopped in to say 'hey'. I'm off to JIKIT and I've got three of the Pope's people waiting on me in the garage so,""Vice President Varma requested a moment of your time," Beyoncé smirked. "She is in 2604.""Who?""Vice President Rhada Varma, a moment of your time, alone?" she clarified."Sure thing," I backed out of the office. Once I had some space, I turned to Juanita. "Give me three minutes then bust in and say, I don't know, a tsunami is about to overwhelm the city, or something. Otherwise, I won't get out for at least an hour and I think I've put the Bishop and his people through enough delays as it is.""Are you actually asking me to stop you from having an in-office liaison?" she studied me intently as we walked in the direction of Rhada's office."Yes. It's not likely to happen often, believe me.""Oh, I do, in that you won't ask me to do it often," she grumbled. I'd deal with Juanita's morale problem later. Right now, I had to gird my loins so they wouldn't do anything else with Rhada. I had work to do, damn it!Rhada was sitting at her desk, working on something, stylus raised up so she could chew on the end. Her hair was pulled back in a half-ponytail, the type that captured the rear half of the hair in a ponytail while leaving the front and bangs free to flow down. Rhada's blouse was white & billowy and, as I was soon to discover, her pants were ultra-tight and contour hugging."Mr. Nyilas," she greeted me. "I would like a moment of your time," she relayed what I already knew. She was more than a tad nervous to boot."Vice President Varma," I started off."When in private you may call me Rhada," she interrupted."Rhada, you look more ravishing than ever."That got up her and coming around her desk, which revealed her ultra-tight pants with no sign of her wearing underwear. Yikes! My cock was preparing to do what a cock was meant to do and I just didn't have the time, Really!"Do you have any time?" she let her bosom heave."Not today, ugh," I groaned. See, Rhada took the stylus and dragged it down her chin, throat and in between her bountiful mounds.All of which exposed the top of her black bra."Are you sure, Master?" she enticed me by turning around and then leaning over her desk, point that ass in my direction. My mouth began salivating and my groin ached. I found myself quick-stepping to her and giving those buttocks two firm slaps, one on each cheek."No, damn it, though I'm going to make you pay for this when I get back," I rumbled."Master will make me wait?" she taunted me."That will cost you even more," I growled. "I have business which simply won't wait and here is my captive teasing me with the treasures of her flesh. Bad, war captive," I spanked her yet again, hard. "Bad!" and I spanked her a fourth time. With each beating, Rhada gasped in pain and then exhaled in pleasure."If I've been bad, Master must be extra harsh with me when he returns in triumph from the Great Hunt," she gloated. Rhada had gotten what she wanted, which was another affirmation of my lust for her and our 'game'. I could provide her the release she so desperately craved while allowing her the safety of remaining in the Amazon fold. It was a perfect pairing, for her.I had other problems, such as all the other baby mamas in my life plus the extra-marital affairs I was contemplating. I still took the moments we had to snuggle with Rhada, her grinding that tush into my rod while I held both her arms tightly to her side while raining kisses down onto her neck and head."Sir! A giant tsunami is approaching the city!" Juanita exploded through the door."What?" I coughed. I had a face full of hair."Huh?" Rhada pushed up and away from me. I let her go."Right now," Juanita insisted. She really needed to stop taking me so seriously when I gave her such advice."Really?" from Rhada. She shot me a curious look so I shrugged. What else was I supposed to do with such a flimsy lie forcing our separation? At least I got out of there on time?{9:50 am, Monday, September 8th ~ Last day}(JKIT HQ)"Is this a common occurrence?" Sister Rafaela Sophia whispered to the closest woman, who happened to be Wiesława, the Polish Amazon. Since she hadn't arrived with us from Havenstone, the nun might have assumed she was with the 'Americans', or British."What?" Wiesława responded evenly."Weapons combat, they look real," the nun clarified."They are real. We always practice with real weapons.""Really?""Of course," Wiesława smiled at her. "We believe a few cuts and scrapes now will save lives when the true tests come.""Oh, you are with, Havenstone?" Rafaela clued in."Yes. I am Wiesława of House Živa. I am currently assigned to Unit L, Cáel's unit within JIKIT," she offered her hand to shake. Despite being a full-blooded Amazon from a freehold, her 'human' skills were progressing nicely. The nun shook it."I am Sister Rafaela Sophia of the Handmaids of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that is a Roman Catholic Religious Order." Pause. "Do you hate Catholics too?""Yes. We have lived beside your people for many centuries and found your clergy to be much more dangerous than your pagan predecessors. Still, Cáel thinks you can be relied on and he's proven we can trust outsider women, which I was raised to believe was unlikely, and outsider men, which was basically anathema, so I'm willing to set aside my prejudices and judge you as an individual," the Pole imparted."Outsider men?" Rafaela mumbled."Well, yes," Wiesława smirked. "You are a nun, right?""Yes.""So you set aside the World of Men to live mostly among women, right?""Not entirely," the nun chose her words carefully. "We still rely on priests for religious rights and of course obey the life teachings of Christ and follow the leadership of his Holiness, the Pope, a man.""No one is perfect," the Amazon bantered back."Do you know the teachings of our Lord, Jesus Christ?" Rafaela ventured into dangerous waters."Yes. He was the semi-historical Son of your supposed One True God. We are not monotheists. We are Polytheists. Živa is my House's matron Goddess. It is also the name of the first woman to lead the House, her birth name surrendered to Destiny so all the daughters who came afterwards would be equals.""Oh, is Mr. Nyilas also pagan?" she inquired."I am unsure. From what I have been told, he has commended the spirit of his fallen father to your Jesus in a sacred ceremony then, in the presence of your Trinity and the Goddess Ishara, brought in new members to his House. I suspect he may be both," Wiesława reasoned. "Why don't you ask him?""Because he's fighting for his life?" Rafaela looked my way.See, the entire time their discussion had been going on, I had been sparring in a spare room at JIKIT HQ with Estere Abed, the Hashashin assassin (rather redundant ~ like saying the Sahara Desert). I had two tomahawks while she had a scimitar and curved dagger. While we sparred using the furniture as obstacles, Agent-86 was briefing me on various World events to get my input.Addison Stuart (CIA) and Lady Fathom Worthington-Burke (MI-6) were having a chat with Bishop Nicolé de Santis, verifying for themselves he was worth adding to the team. Juanita was having a similar discussion with Rikki Martin (US State Department) concerning my earlier encounter with the Papal team. Nicolé's buddy, Wachtmeister Mathias Bosshart of the Swiss Guard, was getting acquainted with the other security personnel.In comparison, those two had it easy. Both men were in their elements. Nicolé was a spook who pretended to be a diplomat for the Pope and was well acquainted with terms like 'deniable assets', 'plausible deniability' and your direct superior referring to requests concerning your identity/diplomatic status by saying 'I never heard of him and if I had, I have no idea what he was doing when you caught him doing what I don't know what he was doing', or something like that.Mathias was in the company of military-security specialists, brother professionals who were introducing him to his 'sister' professionals. Our Homeland Security gang were almost entirely former military by now. They got along with our JSOC folks and both had gained a limited acceptance with the Amazon security contingent.They bonded over the fact they were forced to work with really shady characters ~ the 9 Clans menagerie ~ who didn't always appreciate JIKIT operational security. Without going into particulars, the Wachtmeister was given the impression the abnormal was the norm and if you didn't think there was a 'down-side' to being able to carry your personally favorite bang-bang (the SG 552-2P Commando in his case) with some serious attachments (read: grenade launcher) around in downtown Manhattan, you probably didn't belong on this team.Back in the room,"He's not fighting for his life," Estere laughed. "He is fighting for mine.""Right," I responded sarcastically. We went through a flurry of exchanges, ending up with me kicking a chair at her. Estere stepped over it, colliding with me.I blocked her dagger, disarmed her scimitar and,"You are dead," she panted down at me, smiling. I was on my back, her straddling me. She had a belt-knife to my throat. I hadn't see her draw it. The scimitar 'disarm' had been a distraction."Woot!" I exhaled."But you're dead," Sister Rafaela misunderstood my good humor."He survived a minute and thirty-four seconds more today than his previous record," Estere responded. She slithered off of me, doing my arousal no good whatsoever, then offered me a hand up."And that's better?""He's a rank amateur with a few months on the job. I've been training to kill people for nearly two decades," Estere smiled. "Care to have a go?""With him, or you?""Either," Estere offered."I don't have a knife, or any hand weapons," she stated."We'll need to remedy that," Wiesława stated. "You should at least carry a knife.""Really? Why?""It is a nearly universal tool," I verbally stepped up. "Even if you are disarmed, you should be able to find one relatively easily, people are less likely to miss a stolen knife than a purloined gun, and a concealed blade could come in handy.""Do you train in knife-work?" Rafaela eye-balled me."Absolutely. It is part of my culture," I grinned."Okay. Can we spar, hand-to-hand?""Sure," I nodded. I put my tomahawks in their harnesses then put my harnesses aside. Estere gave me a wink before giving us the fighting space."So," Rafaela began to circle, "are you Christian?""By your definition, or mine?""By the definition of the Catholic Church."Oh cool, she went for a Savate stance. This was going to get ugly.My "no," was followed by her kick and my block, lunge and grapple. She wasn't nearly as good as Felix. I had her down and in a choke hold within fifteen seconds.Perhaps she thought I'd take it easy on her. She tapped out. I released her, retreated and flowed back to my boxing stance. It took her a moment to realize this was 'practice', not 'an interview'. She hadn't failed in anyone's eyes. We were both doing this to get better."See, I really, truly believe I have talked to supernatural entities ~ some who are considered divinities," I continued. This time she was more careful, trading jabs and blocks with me. "They don't claim to be the One True God. I believe in such a thing, but I also believe having been given the Message, Humanity has been left to muddle things out for ourselves."Whoops, she popped me one."The Woman-Thing this morning?""Yep," I evaded another flurry. She got cocky and I landed three blows, dropping her to the ground. I didn't help her up. Instead, I withdrew and let her get back up on her own before deciding if she wanted to continue. She did."I believe I've seen dragons and ghosts. I have felt legions of my ancestors give me quiet encouragement when I needed it. I know the dead have been brought back to life," I came at her. This time we both went for body blows, knees, elbows and fists. She was not SD-caliber and she needed to be. I grappled and she was forced to tap out again. After she regained her feet, she held up a hand for a pause."Do you believe any of that?" she addressed Estere."I am an adherent of Ismaili Islam yet nothing Cáel has encountered is contrary to my belief system. The Universe is a complex place and the Divine Light is often seen through a fractured lenses," she counseled the nun."Among the escapees were lawyer Francisco Luemba, Catholic Priest Raul Tati, economist Belchior Lanso Tati and former policeman Benjamin Fuca who are serving jail sentences of between three and six years each for supposed links to the rebel group FLEC (Frente para a Libertaé'o do Enclave de Cabinda), which carried out the attack on the Togolese football team at the start of the Africa Cup of Nations in January, 2010," Agent-86 read off yet another bit of global minutia."We need to get to them," I half turned. Sister Rafaela punched me in the gut and I folded up."Oh!" she gasped. "I'm sorry.""Okay," I mumbled. I had to keep with the plan. "Those men. We need to contact our Coils people in Kinshasa and the Warden of the Mountain Ways ('she' was the Amazon Host's leader of Africa ~ in the ancient times, the mountain ways had been the routes of southern vulnerability for the Amazon tribe thus the name).""Okay," both Agent-86 and Estere answered."Why?" 86 added."The Coils and the Host have had a serious problem with no nation in Africa giving them even back room recognition so we are going to take over our own country, Cabinda. It's been struggling to be free of Angola since 1975 and, by latest estimates, we've got strike elements of over 2,000 Amazons ready and waiting next door in Cameroon, Gabon and the Republic of Congo.""So you are going to go to war with Angola?" Estere frowned. "Don't we have enough enemies?""Au contraire," I grinned wickedly. "The resistance movement is genuine," I ticked off my points, "they have tons of offshore oil, and after we set off some spectacular explosions in the two main Angolan ports which are just down the coast, we allow global panic to bully the UN into intervening before the Angolan military launch an effective counter-offensive ~ considering the Angolan Armed Forces (I'd been reading up on a ton of CIA & MI-6 briefings) will most likely involve attrition warfare since they can't beat us in a stand-up fight.""They, the Angolans, have no overland access, they are separated by 60 kilometers of territory belonging to the Democratic Republic of Congo over some sad ass roads Plus the Congo River itself which is freaking huge by the time it gets that close to the Atlantic, Cabinda rests on the Atlantic Ocean by the way. No bridges. The Angolan Navy is anemic. Let me think."I began pacing."Hmm, they have no paratroopers though they have some Special Forces, we will need to hit as many of them in the barracks as we can. Their last invasion was from the north, overland, from the Republic of the Congo, in 1975, not likely to happen this time, though I may have my 'Brother' weasel up a battalion of Indian paratroopers to act as convincing peacekeepers after the initial take over.""Perhaps we can recruit some Vietnamese. I'm sure they'll love fighting in someone else's jungle for a change. We'll need some of 'our' guys to seize the port of Soyo, it is on the wrong side of the river, but has the major refinery the Cabindans will need. Since the entire surrounding province are the same ethnic make-up as the Cabindans, we'll have to take that too.""Man-o-man, I bet by the time this is over they'll really wish they'd given little Cabinda independence back in 1975. As for their other refinery, it is in their capital, Luanda, a few big explosions there too will get the markets jittery. Check that ~ the complete and utter destruction of their major petroleum facility will create a stampede for Peace," I continued. I walked over as our resident computer intelligence genius worked his magic."Blowing things up, you mean killing people," the nun blanched."Yes. This is what I do," I spared her a sympathetic glance. "I've got a madman roaming around in my head who provides me truly epic military advice which normally, but not always, means blowing shit up and killing folks. Welcome to the team," then as the data appeared, "Holy Shit! Did they build their oil refinery in the midst of their ghetto?" I was staggered. The refinery in Soyo was isolated from the town so it could be easily (and safely) seized. It was the one in Luanda which was the 'Holy Shit' site."It looks that way," Agent-86 agreed nonplussed. "Hmm, yeah, here is the port facility then your neighborhood of shoddily constructed one- and two-story dwellings between the refinery and the inland storage tanks, the perimeter barrier appears to be a chain link fence. I'd hate to be their Chief of Security.""Oh yeah," I choked. Estere slipped around to get a look."Whoops," she snorted."What are these people thinking?" I continued. "The whole shebang is exposed to the northern quarter of the city. The storage tanks have residential dwellings on all four sides with numerous side streets. Two teams with RPGs and four rounds apiece, Holy Crap. Sorry Sister.""But I want to save lives," she sputtered."Limiting the collateral damage could be pretty tough," Estere frowned. She toggled throw a series of maps to multiple pictures."Oh, look (dripping sarcasm); they light up the refinery at night. You can sit off the coast in a speed boat under cover of darkness and attack from there," she noted."Damn. Those are a lot of lights," Agent-86 agreed."24-7 operation," I suspected."We will need some experts," the government agent nodded."Or we are going to kill a fuck-load of innocent people. Not just the workers, but can you imagine a fire spreading to those neighborhoods? Shit," I muttered."You can't seriously be contemplating doing something like this," the nun sputtered. "It is inhumane. Think of the families, the children.""Lady, yes I am. Do you have any idea what the Human Rights record of the Angolan Army in Cabinda is? It is truly horrific and in case you missed it, one of the guys in dire need of rescuing by me, due to him being a huge rebel leader who has managed to escape, is also a Catholic priest. He's going to be part of the new government we are going to install once we kill a few hundred Angolans ~ mostly soldiers (more like well over a thousand).""We are going to kill a few hundred so a few hundred thousand can live free, democratic lives without worrying about the local police and political establishment torturing and murdering them. It is all part of the plan.""I think I need to talk with the Bishop.""Hang on. Let me finish," I forestalled her. "He'll get briefed along with everyone else. After all, it is a majority Roman Catholic country as is Angola, so I'm sure your guy can be of immense help.""The people you are putting at risk don't deserve this," she protested."They never do," I nodded in agreement with her. "It rarely stops terrible crap from happening to them though."I felt sorry for the Sister. She thought the Bishop was going to put a stop to this. Poor girl; he was going to do the exact opposite. See, the two competing forces at play here were a communistic kleptocracy (currently ruling Angola) and Catholic liberation theology united with a Cabindan national identity dating back to 1885. At stake was 900,000 barrels a day of petroleum. That was a bunch of funding for somebody. Last I checked, the state run energy conglomerate had misplaced $32 billion, in just three years.Mind you, the Coils of the Serpent and the Amazon Host didn't want to help the People of Cabinda out of the goodness of their hearts either. They wanted cover for the importation of weapons and other war-fighting material so they could kill the Condottieri in Africa. If the rebel leaders-turned-legitimate government didn't play ball well, the Coils were in the 'assassinating people' business and somewhere along the line the survivors would figure out keeping 'us' happy kept them alive. Problem solved.It was Bishop Nicolé de Santis' job to facilitate that understanding. If certain people with Vatican credentials explained the 'facts of life' to the new regime a lot more lives could be saved, Catholic lives. In turn, he could work to make sure the new group in power wasn't nearly as corrupt as the gang we were tossing out. Better education and quality of life, improved infrastructure & security and a nice shiny cathedral, or two.We, as in JIKIT and our component members, didn't want to rule the country and dominate the people's lives. We needed the ports and the airfields with a blind eye turned to our skullduggery. Sure, there would be future considerations. Amazons and Coil members would be fighting and dying for these people's freedom ~ public recognition definitely not required. No; the Amazons wanted to be left alone in their deep jungle homes which was an isolation they basically already had. This was a future chit which said 'don't come looking'.The Coils? Let's just say in the future Cabinda would have embassies around the globe and if occasionally they wanted someone to slip through under diplomatic cover ~ they were good for it. And if the Cabindans ever needed help in the future they knew they had friends in dark places who were now invested in Cabinda's survival. It was a win-win-win, unless you were an Angolan big-wig, or one of their foot-soldier currently serving in Cabinda. Amazons weren't big on taking prisoners, or even giving the opposition the option of giving up.For me, it wasn't lunch yet and here I was plotting to overthrow yet another government in yet another country ~ though in only two, small provinces this time. Thank the Goddess I had the rest of the week

A Walk In the Park  & Aya's Finest Hour.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Professional, conscript, or volunteer, they all have run away from battle.A Note on terminology and the metaphor of Cael's WorldThe terms Weave of Fate and 'Weave ' are interchangeable. Weave expresses the intersection ~ the sieve that all the possible futures entered to create what we perceive as this 'now'. Fate is the keeper of the sieve. The Present is what is happening right now. It is that infinitesimal which we interpret as Reality.The Legend is what happens when the present is pulled back through the weave and becomes the past. It is called the Legend because, as the former presents fade into the past, they blur; each becomes less precise and more open to interpretations. (It is as if you were looking at one thing through a prism; as you shift your stance, what you see appears to change.) Within the Legend exist mystic creatures, divinities, demons, spirits, all the Paradises and Hells.The Endless Black Sands is the final resting place for all failed legends. It is the place where all is forgotten until even former realities break down into the Black Sands. That Alal found a way to cheat this doom and retrieved Shammuramat, was truly remarkable; even though Fate 'balanced accounts' with him by sending Ajax and his war band along that path as well.If you wonder how that was a balancing, consider this:The only people Alal cares for (in his own brutal fashion) are Shammy, now Sakura, and his only true offspring in 5,000 years, Cáel.Fate sent Ajax.With Ajax available to test Cáel, how could Alal resist the temptation to place one of the planet's greatest killer on a collision course with both of his loves in order to test Cáel?The Veil is a function of the Weave that protects sentient perception from perceiving the Weave and disguises the otherness of creatures of legend, unless they willingly allow themselves to be seen, which they usually do only so they can 'physically' interact with the Present. Some sentient minds, through horrific trauma such as the Augurs' self- poisonings, through the quirks of Fate via Holy Men, Mad Prophets and Doomsayers such as Temujin, or through the touch of legends such as Ishara, can sense the fluctuations in the Veil and the things behind it. Cáel, in truth, has been shaped by all three vehicles (Ishara, the Augurs and Temujin's legend.)Oblivion is what awaits Reality if the Weave ever fails beyond its ability to heal itself. This threat is what keeps the creatures of legend from constantly traversing the Weave. They have to weaken the Weave to do so or to use powers in Reality, the greater the distortion they create, the greater the weakening that occurs.End Note(Two days ago, with thirty days left)"That was fantastic, Lady Yum-Yum," I sighed."What did you just call me?" she panted softly. We were naked in one of our Task Force bedrooms that was actually used for sleeping, and now sex. I was still pressed against her reposed body, despite our recent exertions. She was on her stomach, arms stretched down her sides.She was sweaty and short of breath. She still had her wits about her and an awareness of our situation: victory sex, me still aroused and her fingernails scratching my thighs and buttocks. My equally sticky body was pressing down on her, even though I supported my weight with outstretched hands placed on either side of her shoulders."Lady Yum-Yum," I mumbled as I kissed the back of her head. "That was the first thing that sprang to mind when you introduced yourself." I could see her working that through her highly complex mind."When writing your memoirs, please remember to me refer to me that way," she began to flex her thighs and abdominal muscles, so that her ass was pumping against my hips."Only if this helps persuade you to give me a repeat performance.""I'll consider,," she purred, then paused to catch her breathe. "You are in phenomenal shape, young man. Do any of your other lady-loves have pet names?""Nope," I grunted as I withdrew.She had teased me with anal sex hints repeatedly, yet never delivered. She liked the game and the power she wielded. My body being on top of hers was only an illusion of a tactical advantage. She knew me pretty well already. I wasn't the kind of guy who would use physical strength to overwhelm her vulnerable position. This being so, a cerebral skirmish only excited her more.We waged a war that was based on intakes of breath, the shimmying of muscles and the trembling of fatigued flesh. The prize for me was the winning. Lady Fathom Worthington-Burke played tricky-clever, but I was better. And at times like this, she admitted it. She gave me what I wanted. I rolled her.Straight, face-to-face fucking. The Lady's pulsar gaze trapped my vision. She smiled, grudgingly at first, then more and more sensually as my glans returned to her g-spot that it had scouted out earlier. This was 'surrender by the Fathom method'. She gave me what I wanted, so I took what I wanted, and pleasured her at the same time."Mmm, you are a bad, bad boy," she lapsed into her trashy West-End Londoner accent. It was perfect and an erotic whiplash when added to her native, refined manner of speech. This wasn't a trick this time, it was a treat. It was a gift, reciprocated. The tactile sensation of her cervix becoming a soft, spongey chalice for my final penetrations was icing on an all-so-luscious cake.I tendered her a tribute worthy of my first love, Dr. Kimberly Geisler. It was strange to find a woman like her. Outside of Kimberly, I had found only one other woman who graciously offered her ultimate pleasure paean to the hundreds of lovers who had become before. That other woman, it still floored me, was Buffy Du, no, Buffy Ishara, First of my House."Oh!" and several heartbeats later, "Cáel!" several hissed series of breathes and then, "Goddess! You are better than good!"Two thoughts collided within me:A) I had never seen a more controlled orgasmic explosion in my life. I was going to have to tell Buffy about this, once we were safely in bed. If it was office talk, she'd punch me through a window and that would make Aya cry. I couldn't have that.B) Goddess? I thought she was Anglican. This needed further study. This treatment was really nice. I leaned in, kissed her. Lady Yum-Yum smiled. "Take me to the shower. Play time is over, Cáel," and she was back to all business."You are treating me like a fleshy vibrator," I pointed out."But you are a very finely-trained, fleshy vibrator, you wonderful boy," she stroked my cheek. "Shower! Now!" So, like a Good Boy, International Merchant of Death and Chosen Son of a Divine Amazon Goddess, I slid off her, then cradled her in my arms as I rose from our totally trashed mattress.I didn't smile when it was confirmed that I wasn't carrying her out of any romantic after-coitus gesture. She couldn't walk. Woot! It took a bit of effort to get us into the walk-in shower and to get the water just perfect, all while keeping her cradled. She helped out by keeping her arms tightly around my neck."Cheeky bastard," she whispered in my ear. "You are gloating." Then she nibbled on my earlobe for good measure."Damn right," I did gloat as I let her slide down to her feet. "You are pretty sweet for an Old Chick." She wasn't angry, oh no."If you were trying to get me to say, 'I'll get you next time," she licked, nipped and sucked on my nipple as if I was the one with the mammaries in this relationship, "it worked." Double-Woot! I was going to get that damn four-way! I did coax a vigorous shower-quickie out of my Lady. Afterward, she shifted herself so she could get under one of the steaming showerheads."Cáel, why didn't you use a condom," she mused. Gak!"You aren't on Birth Control?" I panicked. She laughed at me."No. I've never been a fan of hormones replacement. I like the way I am. Do you expect the women to do all the anti-pregnancy measures?""No," I gulped."Don't' be so worried," she laughed. "We had unprotected sex one time. The odds are astronomical that an 'oops' happened, right?" Yes, it was a single sexual encounter, but included three firings of the one-eyed hydra, sigh."You are asking a man who has five children on the way, Fathom," I cautioned her."Oh, I'll update my files and make an appointment to seen a local, reliable O B G Y N," she slipped back into her unflappable British resolve. "Get along. I need to get cleaned up," she cupped my scrotum, ", again. So scoot." I scooted.I had updated my condom supply despite the forbiddance Dot Ishara, my Matron Goddess, beamed to me from the Other Side. She could only complain so much. I'd upped my selection of fortune cookies and added a fresh raisin chocolate brownie for my next visit with her. I had to get over to the other side of the floor to get a fresh shirt, and boxers.Yum-Yum had ripped off my shirt (a little kinky) and boxers (a little painful). I wasn't going commando, so I decided to quick step it before something important happened that required me to yank yet another solution out of my sexually-fueled creative imagination.How Lady Yum-Yum and I ended up in bedThe Secret Societies' long awaited war had begun in Africa and in India. The Amazons couldn't effectively reinforce these two homeland regions. No, my people's edge came from my stupid stunts (e.g., the fight outside that club in Chicago), the judicious application of a few kind words and a whole lot of targeted killing on my part along with that of my Amazons.Those actions convinced the Booth-gan (aka the Thuggee, but we no longer say that because it irritates them) and the Coils of the Serpent to toss in their lot with their local Amazons. They did the whole 'hostage exchange' thing as well. Two children from each side. That was a no-brainer on my part. All three concerned parties were willing to let their adults die if necessary. Their children were another matter.In Asia, the Seven Pillars had made only minimal progress. We now suspected the 7P had planned to roll over the three of the 9 Clans that were in their Sphere of Influence, the now 6 Ninja Families, the Black Lotus and the Booth-gan in rapid succession. A preemptive strike against both the Khanate and the Ninja were supposed to cripple those two factions.Against the Khanate, that had been a dismal failure. In Nippon, the Ninja were in dire straits and would be decades recovering from the original 7P blitz. But the combination of US black ops help and the infusion of Amazons and Okinawans had staved off extinction for the moment. Strategically, these failed actions were tying down 7P resources that the largest Secret Society had planned to move elsewhere.In China, the Black Lotus exhibited the same resilience and deceptiveness they'd shown in combating the Seven Pillars by themselves for the past 65 years. The chaos gripping the PRC was a blessing from the Ancestors, the four sacred spirits (lung/dragons, phoenix, unicorn and tortoise), and the nine entities (I now really had to know this stuff.) Word that a 'dragon' had appeared in the West had only heightened their desire to aid in our new alliance.Those factors meant a reprieve for India. As the 7 Pillars began ramping up their operations; increasing racial tensions, minor terrorist action and military and industrial sabotage; the Booth-gan and Amazon united resources and purpose. The Booth-gan would assassinate 7P operatives and pawns while the Amazons would hit 7P front companies and businesses based out of the People's Republic of China. (This activity also helped ratchet up India-PRC tensions and anti-PRC public sentiment in India.)In Africa, the Condotteiri had squandered precious hours reallocating resources before launching their assaults. Like everyone but the 7P, they had been caught flat-footed by the renewal of the Secret War. The Coils of the Serpent had never been overly antagonistic toward the Condos, since their interests rarely collided. The same went for the Coils and the Amazons.Two factors inspired a deep Amazon-Coil bond. They were both groups with deep African roots and a shared Central-Western African spirituality. Added to that was the growing power of the Coils of the Serpent in the past fifty years. Their main opponents had been the Illuminati who had a Eurocentric view. Pan-Africanism was in the Coil's best interest, but ran contrary to European economic interests.Long term, allying with the African Amazons was a good investment for the Coils. The 9 Clans relationships had already proved to be advantageous on multiple occasions in the past. The leaders of the Coils knew their power was rising with the fortunes of Sub-Saharan Africa. To them, the rise of the PRC and the Seven Pillars was a looming threat in the East.They had been handed a golden opportunity to deal with this enemy before the enemy was ready to deal with them. They had been 'gifted' with over 2000 highly-skilled, fanatical Amazon warriors as stealthy muscle to add to their own, more subtle arsenal. For the Amazons, it was access to continent wide clandestine intelligence network that could unmask their enemies' hiding places.The Condotteiri wiped out an Amazon freehold in Cameroon and a few Coils safe houses in Lagos, Nigeria. In the Republic of Mali, over 250 Condo mercenaries were slaughtered at a 'secret' installation and their armory was looted. Ebola kept breaking out in the West. The dominant regional powers, the Republic of the Congo and Nigeria, were tottering as a result of decades of economic mismanagement, civic, ethnic, tribal and religious strife, corruption and unreliable militaries.The scene was ripe for a secret conflict as well as public carnage. For the Joint International Khanate Interim Taskforce (JIKIT), this presented a dilemma. They were involved with a growing global struggle that went far beyond the Khanate and Central Asia. Their secret society allies strenuously objected to bringing any more 'outsider' people into the group.Handing over covert intelligence to other governmental agencies in the US and UK, then telling them they wouldn't divulge their sources went over like scuba diving with cement goulashes. Explaining to upper level bigwigs that they had a 'trust-based' team went nowhere. Those officials didn't care about a bunch of domestic/international criminals' sensibilities.They wanted names and faces. They wanted addresses, phone taps and bank account numbers. It would all be 'Secret', 'Top Secret', or 'Eyes Only'. It would all be vulnerable to all kinds of governmental subpoenas too. No threats were made from 'my' side. They'd killed more people than the Black Death and the lives of a few thousand bureaucrats (and their families) in London and Washington D.C. didn't mean shit to them.Selena did offer to kidnap some family members to get the message across. Javiera put her hands over her ears and began singing 'la-la-la' as she stormed out of the room. Lady Fathom suggested that we arrange a private meeting with the UK Prime Minister and the US President. It took a few seconds for Mehmet and Javiera to realize she wasn't kidding.That was a nearly impossible task, which on this taskforce meant we had to give it a shot. Let's just say that the US Attorney General, Eric Holder and Chairman John Jay of the British Joint Intelligence Committee thought their respective representative had lost her God-damn mind. I went to the Khanate for help.Twenty-four hours later Azerbaijan, Turkey, Tajikistan, Armenia and Georgia (yes, two tiny Christian nations) joined the Khanate. The integration of the first two nations had been in the works since the formation of the Turkic Council in 2009. For me, Temujin upped the time table strictly for our benefit. Turkey and Azerbaijan became the two newest states within the Khanate.The third, Tajikistan was different and the shakiest addition. The unoccupied title of 'Khwarazm Shah' was created, suggesting the Iranian Tajiks had a special status inside the Khanate. 'Khwarazm' referenced the Khwarazmian dynasty that ruled the last of the great, Persian-led, Iranian Super-States and dated back to the 13th century AD. 'Shah' was Persian for King.The announced status of Armenia and Georgia was quite a bit different. They become 'Protectorates', i.e., semi-autonomous states within the Khanate who were 'vassal' states, responsible only to the Great Khan and his personal representative in the region (ah, that would be me.)So, the first three entries made sense, strong geographic, ethnic and/or religious ties, plus this was part of the Khanate's agenda anyway. But Armenia and Georgia? That was the doing of the other regional secret society, the Hashashin.The Caucasus Mountains were the backyard of the Hashashin. They knew who to blackmail, pinch and kill to make the 'take-over' possible. The main stumbling block was the long Khanate-Hashashin history: the Mongols had destroyed the historical stronghold of the Hashashin, Alamut, in 1256 CE. In a way, that disaster had transformed the sect, making it move away from their strict Nizārī Ismaili roots and into a more ethnically and religiously diverse group that was centered in the Caucasus region.Temujin made it clear to this group that he was making a deal under my auspices. Both Armenia and, Georgia (as well as the future Kurdistan, his plans for the creation of that last state were told to me under condition of secrecy) would be part of my palatinate principality (along with Hungary, if we ever got there). Riki Martin defined the terms for me: I was the voice of those three regions in the Khan's court.They wouldn't have to deal with Muslim Khanate officials. They would deal with me and 'my officials'. If the Khanate had a problem with my principality, they came to me to resolve the issue. That translated to me giving a nod to the existing regimes ruling in Armenia and Georgia (along with the infusion of a few Hashashin supporters.)Publically the future of those three political and ethnic entities would be confirmed later. The existing governments knew three things.1) I was that madman who had led the charge in Romania, clearly a man of bravery and humility. The odds were good that I was going to be a man they could rely on to adequately represent their interests with the government that currently mattered the most (aka The Khanate.)2) The Great Khan thought the world of me and in this nascent New World Order that meant way more than membership in NATO, or begging the United Nations to apply sanctions of dubious value.3) There would be a change of leadership by about 2040. Children of excellent ethnic parentage would succeed me in this ceremonial role in the region. These new princes and princesses would be the scions of the line of Nyilas and representatives of the various states (translation: I was going to be sexing it up with Georgian, Armenian and Kurdish members of the Hashashin).That would establish the three 'cadet' branches of House Ishara (Nyilas) (which I've listed because all three alphabets are so freaking beautiful) that could weave the Amazons, 9 Clans and the varying ethnic identities into a quilt that could stand together as a force in the Great Khan's inner circle. This new spate of aristocratic, 'Archer'-themed lineages would be:1.       Moisari, in Georgia.2.       Aġeġnajig, in Armenia.3.       Ram- alsham, in Kurdistan.This fiction made the key named entities happy. The combination of all these events applied another jolt to the heart of the global power structure (after all, Turkey was in NATO) and made the US and UK governments back off.By tidying up the world map, we'd brought our governmental chiefs to the chilling revelation that their sole conduit for insider information regarding the ongoing global calamity had reacted to their intransience by simply letting them be blind-sided by events. After the fact, Javiera and Lady Fathom relayed that message very clearly.

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A day in the life of rural Hungary.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.'Here be Dragons' wasn't always a tourist gimmick."I didn't say you could have a drink," the Vizsla commented."Oh, my apologies," I shrugged. I put the stein on a nearby table and waited."Have a seat," she directed. I came up to her table and examined the three empty chairs. I held back until she pointed to the chair opposite her. I sat down, but didn't make eye contact. Instead, I examined the various paintings and photographs on the walls. It was an old place."You killed Matthias, even though you knew he worked for me," she uttered."I can confirm that information to be correct," I looked her way. That, wasn't what she expected."Why?""Why what?" I countered. There was a method to my madness; this was going to be a lesson in competence, and what happens when you don't respect it."Why did you kill Matthias?""I needed a reason?" I tried to look pensive. "Maybe I didn't like the cut of his facial hair?""Do you think this is a joke?" she replied dryly. "The Black Hand always avenge our own.""Damn," I looked perplexed. "No one told me that when I arrived. Can we call Matthias's extermination a 50/50 bad call, both ways?""Matthias was my cousin," the Vizsla continued."My condolences," I sighed. "The next Black Hand douche-bag the Amazons waste, I'll have them ask if he's related to you first. How's that?""You are so not likely to have that opportunity," she pointed out."Oh," I laughed, "you are so wrong about that.""You are far stupider than I had been informed," the Vizsla's eyes narrowed."Nope. You and your cast of 'Dumb and Dumber' have been treating us like idiots since we touched down at Ferenc Liszt International, so I'm pretending to be that simpleton sock-puppet just for you, Vizsla. You've added to that by heaping disrespect and derision on my people," I grinned."You tried to have me and my entourage murdered and Matthias paid the price for that. Everyone knows I'm here. And after your bungled attempt to have me killed, no one is going to believe you did anything but murder me, if I don't show up eventually. Now do you prefer the stupid me, or the brighter than normal me?""If you think acting like a smart-ass is somehow endearing, you are mistaken," she let me know."Whatever," I shrugged. "You called this meeting. What do you want?""Beyond killing one of my lieutenants, I wanted to know what you are doing here?" she studied me."I would like to leave now. I'm wasting my time here," I responded."I want answers," she pressed."You have been given the answers to both your talking points, Matthias died because of your orders and I am here looking for three lost Amazon bloodlines," I replied."That seems bizarre," the Vizsla expressed her doubts."Bizarre? You are talking to the sole male Amazon House Head in three thousand years," I reminded her. "Besides, you only just now finished telling me how the Black Hand look after their own. The Amazons are the same way; we have lost kin who need to be made aware of their background.""What do we do about Matthias?" the Vizsla asked."In all honesty, had he not personally threatened to stab a member of my team, I would have settled for kicking the crap out of him. He put a knife to Ms. Martin's throat. That assured his death sentence. I think the Host will be willing to accept my hypothesis that Matthias was acting on his own initiative, which should settle the matter."And just like that, the expediency of the Black Hand shown forth. The truth of the matter was that he had acted on the Vizsla's orders. Unfortunately, that would have meant my side would have come after the Vizsla and she would have had to avenge his death, lots of needless bloodshed. So Matthias posthumously became a rabid dog gone rogue and one who ended up crossing the wrong people. No vengeance required by anyone. We could get back to business."That is settled. So, what do you want from your new allies?" the Vizsla inquired. A certain level of cold-blooded ruthlessness had been required to achieve her spot in the Black Hand. Likewise, honesty was the best policy when dealing with casually lethal people. They didn't like self-important asses wasting their time."I need to find an individual named 'Branko'. He has kidnapped a young lady who is one of our lost Amazons. We don't require any aid, but if you could leave Selena with us, it would be appreciated," I requested."What are you going to do when you catch up with this 'Branko'?" she questioned."I'd like to say I am going to buy her back, but I think we both know that is a pipe-dream. He's not going to like me interfering in his business, so I'm going to kill him, and any other bastards who are in close proximity," I confessed. She studied me for over a minute."Do you wish a piece of advice?" the Vizsla said."Of course," I nodded. It cost me nothing to acknowledge her vastly superior experience."Take a step back," she advised. Seeing that I didn't understand, "If you recall every single death by your hand, you will go mad. You don't possess the detachment of a true killer, Cáel. Not every member of the Black Hand is an assassin.Your driver, Josef, is from a long line of Black Hand members. He doesn't have what it takes to get close and personal in order to kill a human being, so he drives and provides security. He still matters and serves a necessary function." That was almost nice of her. The advice was based on her decision to keep me around as a useful tool. Going nuts would derail that."There is the life we wish to lead, and the life we must lead, Vizsla," I recalled. There was so much there, whirling around in my skull, it took me all this time to find the link I was looking for. Recall every single death by my hand, "On January 26th, 1847, the Black Hand Chapter House of the Wolf in Verona was wiped out, there were no survivors.""If you say so," she regarded me oddly."Yeah, look into it. Then come back to me when you have the right questions," I stood up. "And 'Branko'?""I will relay information on this individual to Selena. We should have something by the time you get back to Buda," she got out before one of the bodyguards came running our way.He had his H and K MP5 out and was in deep conversation with his ear piece."Our two spotters failed to respond correctly," he told the Vizsla in Hungarian. She gave me another quick once over."My people?" I rose slowly.The Vizsla gave the man a subtle hand gesture. Seconds later, pushing Alkonyka ahead of them, Pamela, Selena and Josef came running through the door. Pamela and Selena had our duffels. Two more Black Hand materialized from a back room.The Black Hand was actually a small outfit. Each Chapter had two or three houses, each with four or five true assassins and maybe six times that in support personnel/recruits in each location. That meant the entire Black Hand organization numbered less than 1000. They had several thousand peripheral contacts across their sphere of Europe and they could purchase some sort of private security given time. But their best protection was their hidden nature and small size. That also meant what we had was what we had. There was no Black Hand SWAT team on the way.Working with hand gestures alone, the Vizsla was directing us to a trap door behind the bar. Josef's phone rang. He hesitantly answered."It is for you," he offered it to our host. She took it. Halfway through the caller's diatribe, she shot me a suspicious look."Why don't you ask him?" she stated, then handed me the phone."Hello Nyilas. Do you know who this is?" the man on the other end stated, in Mycenean Greek."Yes, I do. What do you want? I'm kind of busy here?" I grinned. It was laughing at death all over again."I can relieve you of your pressing schedule. You and the other Amazon step outside and I'll make it quick.""No can-do Studly," I smirked. "If I go out there, it is going to take a while.""I sincerely doubt that.""Don't sell yourself short," I jibed. "I figure clipping off those bull-sized testicles of yours is going to take some work. But I do promise that after I make you a eunuch, I'll use a condom when I bend you over and make you my bitch too. Was there anything else you wanted to know?""No. I think we have a mutual understanding," he laughed. "I'll be seeing you soon." He hung up."Who was that?" Vizsla inquired. She wasn't alone in her curiosity."Ajax," I beamed confidence. I was confident my tenure on this Earth was ending real soon."I think we should be leaving," Vizsla suggested."Selena, help Alkonyka get her sister back," I requested. "I'll catch up when I can. Pamela, you do what you feel you need to do. Vizsla, they are after me, so I'm going to keep them busy while you get away," I explained.No useless 'you don't have to do this' nonsense. She knew the score, I wasn't a member of her outfit and she wanted to live. She did do me one favor. She gave another hand movement. Selena slit Josef's throat in a surprise motion.He didn't die right away. Selena's slash made bleeding out inevitable, but he'd be a while in dying. Odds were, that only Vizsla and Josef knew in advance where we were meeting. Whatever payoff the Condottieri had put in his bank account wasn't going to do him any good. Selena bent over his still-thrashing body and removed his pistol."I will bring you Angyalka Lovasz," Selena pledged. Pamela and I were gearing up. Ajax and his buddies were going to be coming for me any second now. Alkonyka gave me one more worried look before she vanished into the secret basement. "Don't be late," was the last thing Selena said before going down into the darkness. Pamela made sure the trap door was covered up.Lust and Bullets"We've used Butch and Sundance," Pamela checked her L42 Enfield Sniper Rifle. It was the weapon Pamela had trained with and used for longer than I'd been alive, old yet very effective even today."Heat?" I offered up. "You can be De Niro and I can be Kilmer.""Nice. Michael Mann really had a way of killing people," Pamela grinned, then pumped her eyebrows. "Too bad I end up dead in this one.""We'll avoid airports, you should be safe," I joked. Three explosions rocked the building, shooting glass throughout the place. Fortunately, Pamela and I were hiding behind the bar."Let's go," she whispered over the din. Charging out the front door seemed pretty suicidal to me, but Pamela's copious battle lore was something I had the utmost faith in. I respected her judgment and followed along. There was a method to her madness. Two 40 mm grenades had taken out the two cars parked in front. A third launched grenade had blown open the door.The petrol in the cars equated to flaming wreckage and a huge smoke screen. It was broad daylight, no night vision goggles. The flames made IR useless and the smoke temporarily obscured regular vision. The machineguns going off around us scared the crap out of me. It was my old buddy, suppression fire: they weren't shooting directly at us.Metaphysically, Ishara was dueling with Ares. There was a low stone wall, a little over a meter high, that separated an adjacent field from the inn's gravel parking lot. Right as we got to our side of it, three of Ajax's boys came up on the other. Pamela and I remained perfectly still, crouching tightly against our shelter.Two knelt and fired several bursts from their H and K HK416 (Wow! Germany's newest killing machine, they looked slick) into the closest open windows while the third one fired a grenade in. Again, we remained perfectly still. We were about two meters from those three. The drab color of our hastily donned dusters, the congested air and our stillness combined to save us from their notice.The second after that grenade went off, the three vaulted the wall and rushed the building. From the cacophony of the battle, they were storming the building from several directions at once."Quick, go find that guy with the machinegun," Pamela whispered over a feral grin. How was I going to do that?The old fashioned way, I leapt over the wall and ran away from all the flames, explosions and the continuous widespread fusillade of assault weapons fire. I was partially bent over as I ran. I'm still a big guy though. The machine gunner was in a shallow dip in the meadow 30 meters away, on the edge of the woods.He saw me, shifted his MG4 (fuck Ajax and his crew for having the best Bang-Bangs) minutely and unleashed hell my way. In hindsight, the 1st round flattened against my duster as it impacted my upper left thigh. Round #2 hit the duster again, coming below my vest, but hitting my belt (every bit of leather helps).The #3 556 mm slug hit my vest due south of my belly button (Fuck!), # 4 landed a few centimeters up and to the right, taking in both the duster and my ballistic vest. The #5 round clipped my lower side of my right ribcage. The resulting force sent me spinning back and to my right.Honestly, as I landed hard on my back (no rolling with the blow this time), I thought a midget mule team had kicked me in the guts. Apparently, I made a convincing mortally wounded human being. He stopped shooting and Pamela got pissed.I learned a few things at that moment: you do not get used to being shot; you can never appreciate the value of good body amour enough; you can never understand the true value of a sniper until your life is totally in their hands; and damn, Pamela was exceptional. Pamela put a bullet through his nasal cavity in that split second between him exposing himself with his muzzle flashes and deciding to put a few more bullets into my prone form.Pain dictated that I lie where I was. Survival instincts overrode that. I went to my side, pushed up and resumed my crouched stance. Then I was running once more until I could throw myself beside his corpse. I was stunningly calm. Machineguns, snipers, I had to cover Pamela's run across the meadow. I didn't stay by the dead gunner.I grabbed his weapon, some spare ammo and quick-stepped it to the wood line. I rapidly assessed the best spot that could provide cover from each flank. That was where I went down, cradled the device and started shooting at any muzzle flash I could see. The moment I opened fire, Pamela began her own sprint.Unlike my mad dash, Pamela took evasive maneuvers, serpentine, which worked out well when one sniper figured out she wasn't one of them. He/she had two shots at her before she dove past me. Her mien was one of intense, emptiness? She gave me a quick pat-down to make sure I wasn't gushing blood, took a deep breath and then smirked."Come on, Dummy!" she laughed. "We still have a shot at a sequel.""Shot, sequel, you are a laugh riot," I wheezed as I stood, abandoned the MG4 and joined her as we both ran deeper into the woods. A few shots zinged past us before Ajax's crew realized we were in full-on flight mode. They weren't going to waste the bullets.This was the point where archaic and modern warfare diverged. In the olden (pre-Pamela, ow! How did she know what I was thinking?) days, when your enemy broke and ran, it was relatively easy to run them down and slaughter them in their panic. If a few men tried to stem the tide, they would be quickly overwhelmed.After the invention of rapid-fire rifles, that changed. Suddenly, headlong pursuit could be incredibly costly. All it took was a small, resolute band to find some sort of hard cover and they could buy minutes, or even hours, for their retreating brethren. Sure, if you were willing to pay the butcher's bill, you could storm their position.But you had to understand, each defender could fire and work the bolt action in under three seconds. You reloaded your magazine with a prepared clip ~ maybe five more seconds. Ten men could put 150 bullets down range per minute as long as their ammo held out. Sending men into that kind of firepower was murder; very few troops could sustain their attack under those conditions.Ajax's resurrected Mycenaean's were tough enough to do it. Ajax's problem was their finite number. Despite catching Ajax off-guard with Pamela's mad plan, her ungodly skills and a great deal of my pain, we had only managed to kill one so far. The great unknowns were terrain (we didn't know where we were,) and my luck.As Pamela and I ran through the forest at a good clip, we began to make out a specific background noise. It was a river. Not a creek, stream, waterfall, or dam, a river."Did you pack your jet ski?" Pamela snorted."I left it in the car. You said it was so '1990's'," I panted back. A few more footsteps and,

Promises To Keep. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. Note to readers: There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. My apologies to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works. “Never judge a friend by what they give, but of how much of themselves they give.” (From the floor of Katrina's office) First thoughts,  I was on the floor where I had fallen, surrounded and being manhandled in the tenderest way. That was a romantic means of relating to my mummification. Those little Band-Aids that had been applied when I woke up from my coma had failed the 'Cáel is a Smeckle-head' test. All the crud they had pumped into my system and amperage they had channeled through my muscles was not the same as eating and exercise. Having a sexual romp with two ladies? My Goddess made plans for my body that my caloric bank account couldn't afford, thus me passing out. Unlike my time with Miyako and Estere, I had a feeling my two sofa-buddies were ovulating. Fatherhood was on the way. How my infant would survive the continuous poisonous assault on the augur's lymphatic system was beyond me. Her guardian, let's just say I dealt with sneaky bitches/Dot on a regular basis and leave it at that. "He is awake," Tadêfi alerted the room. "You must leave so I can deliver my message to him in the privacy he requested." "I am almost done," a different Amazon voice stated. She was the medico dealing with my wounds. By the aroma, she had slathered on two coats of the healing goo that was becoming as comfortable to my nostrils as my soap-on-a-rope. A few more rounds of adhesive tape and the exodus from the room began. I hadn't opened my eyes because I was unprepared for the looks of anger, disappointment and concern surely leveled my way. The door shut and my eyes opened. "The Conqueror, the Champion, the Friendless and the Foe have all escaped the Land of the Endless Black Sands and returned to the Sunlit Realm," Tadêfi whispered upon my lips. Huh? That was it? Seriously, four freaking titles without, And here came the rest, faces. Faces with eyes and eyes with a purpose. Names, not names I wanted to hear at the moment. Bad fucking news all around. It couldn't be something helpful like the identity of the next High Priestess, No, that would be good fucking news. Okay, time to turn this frown upside down. I could make this work for me. How, I wasn't sure. "Thank you," I responded to Tadêfi's plea of understanding. Outside of having impregnating sex with me, the Sex-Master, Timothy was going to Nerf-shoot me for that, she'd endured spiritual, mental and physical grief and torment to be with me here today. She waited, kneeling beside my head. "Kiss me," I requested. It was a moist act, full of compassion and understanding. I racked my mind for the names and their importance. "Who was Shammuramat?" "I don't know, but this helps, right?" Tadêfi expressed her need to make the reward for the sacrifices to make sense. Five dead sister-augurs. They had to find that son-of-a-bitch! "Tadêfi, we are back in the fight," I grinned. "You and your sisters have given the Host a mighty weapon in the upcoming struggle." I knew that to be true because I knew who and where the Conqueror was, I knew he wasn't ready to be revealed, his enemies were closing in and he was ignorant of that fact. I was going to have to rain on his parade to save his life. The five augurs hadn't died futilely. The Weave of Fate had shielded the man and it took the augers' fanatical devotion to cut the threads and expose the truth the Host needed most. The Champion, hell, I knew who he was. I chuckled. Tadêfi was confused. The Champion was coming to kill me, me and a bunch of other Amazons, because blood feuds tend to run both ways. The Foe. He was easy enough. Granddad. The Bastard just wouldn't stay dead. I had a clue to what was going on now. I wasn't sure how useful that knowledge would be. Still, knowledge is knowledge. That thing crawling around inside my brain? No help there. That left Shammuramat. That name was familiar. Even when I finally placed it, I didn't understand her role in things. Why her? "Krasimira," I called out. I struggled to sit up and with Tadêfi's help, I did so. The Keeper and two guardians entered as well. One, Sikia, hovered over her companion/augur. "What is the link between Shammuramat and the Host?" I inquired. I saw no recognition in the Keeper's eyes. "She was the first ever "independent" queen of a nation-state, Assyria." Krasimira sat on the sofa and retrieved her tablet from inside her robes. She began working with the electronic history of the Amazon race. "9th Century BCE," I added. Slowly others migrated back into the room. Buffy, Katrina (not good and not happy), Elsa (really not good) and Desiree. Pamela leaned against the door sill, neither in nor out. Katrina sat behind her desk. The phone came out and whispered conversations began in earnest. I had shoved us straight into a war which looked like a free for all at the moment. No one trusted anyone. No one could afford to. I had to change that. The only saving grace was that it appeared no Secret Society had planned for the Protocols to abruptly end a week and a half ago. "Ah, I found it," Krasimira spoke up. Because I'm me, it was at that moment I finally realized that someone had put me in my biking shorts in an effort to provide me a modicum of modesty, with the benefit of blood being smeared on the inside. "She abandoned the Host, she was put under a death sentence for killing her twin sister who was chosen to lead House Anat over her." "Anat?" I queried. "The other dead First House," Krasimira sighed. "They were renowned for their berserkers. Some would drape themselves in the entrails of their enemies in the midst of battle to increase their ferocious appearance." "Oh, how sweet, what was Ishara known for?" I was surprised I'd never asked. "Ishara were the emissaries of the Host," Krasimira informed me. With the Amazon practice of killing embassies sent their way, the extinction of my house made much more sense. "What does this mean?" Desiree took charge of matters since Katrina was still busy on the phone. In a few short weeks, Desiree's prestige had definitely increased. Katrina was her sister in more than name now. "Where to begin,  Fine, why don't we refer to the Mycenaeans by their proper Amazon name?" Everyone but Buffy was glancing about nervously. "You used the name, didn't you?" Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose, dreading the response. "Yes, " I answered. "Because no one warns him of shit," Pamela huffed. "You assume an Amazon education with no basis in reality. You act like he grew up with our fairy tales and phantasmal histories. Everyone in this room, but Buffy," she acknowledge my First, "knew he spoke our language and the accompanying risk. Still, no one warned him." "You didn't warn him," Desiree skewered Pamela with a glance. "Not my job, Buttons," Pamela chuckled. "I relish the rest of you being made to look like idiots too much to be useful to Cáel unless it really matters. So he invoked an ancient malediction. What is the worst that could happen?" "I'm going to make a huge deductive leap, am I the reason the Achaean hero Ajax and his boys are back from the dead and coming after us for some Ako-level vengeance?" I groaned. (That's the 47 Ronin for us Westerners) Silence. "That's not your fault, Sport," Pamela snorted. "Mano-man, was I a dumbass for doing nothing. I'll take the blame for that one ladies. Damn Cáel, you would have to pick the Unconquered One, wouldn't you?" "Who is this guy and why does he hate us?" Buffy interjected. Pause. "Our ancestors poisoned his wine so that, in his angry haze, he mistook his own men for his enemies and slaughtered them all, back during the Trojan War. Afterwards, he committed suicide in anguish over his crime, Death opened his eyes at the last, he saw our treachery and managed to curse us as he died," Krasimira informed the lot of us. "And my using that word brought him back? That sounds, weak," I grunted. "The word would not have been enough," Tadêfi comforted me. "There must have been some sort of rift in the curtain of Reality that allowed the others to slip through. I don't understand how, oh no," she gasped as the pieces came together. "I'm willing to believe that was the price of doing business," I petted Tadêfi's cheek. "Please enlighten us," Elsa grumbled. "I need to find the Earth  and  Sky ambassador and set up a new meeting. Using what Tadêfi has gifted me with and the sacrifice of her fellow augurs, I can secure an alliance for us if only I can make up for the whole stunt Troika played," I grinned. "Any ideas?" "We could call them," Pamela produced my phone. "Seems some lady named Hana Sulkanen has been trying for days to get in touch with you. She hunted down the owner of the necklace, they talked about your current physical state, courtesy of Odette, and the owner of the necklace has expressed a continued interest in meeting you, and only you. It would appear that they really don't trust the rest of our merry little band since your first disappearance." Hana, and here I had killed her step-brother, the one she despised. An unexpected benefit of civil discourse, my People's chance of survival had doubled. Pamela lobbed my phone and I caught it. "What of the other two?" Tadêfi pushed down on my euphoria. "Was the Foe dead as well?" A quick look at Pamela told me she knew the answer to that. "The Foe is complicated," I lied. "His return was an inevitability, so we count that as a draw. The Champion, bad news. Let's put Shammy in the 'maybe' column and the Conqueror is a win for our side." A Berserker Queen, fresh from the Underworld, who we were honor-bound to kill,  or the 'other lost heir to a dead House' that was going to make us cobble together some nonsense to bring her back into the fold. If I wasn't the male leader of a spiritually significant All-Girls social club/paramilitary outfit, I might have been daunted by my prospects of achieving the latter. "The thing going on inside your head?" Elsa asked. That explained her presence. My mental capacity was still suspect. Was I still me? Could I flip out with no warning? "It is still there. I still have no idea what happened to me, or what the results might be. This means I'm going into battle wounded and that's that," I stated. "Are you acting in the best interest of the Host," Elsa studied me. "I am not sure," I confessed after half a minute's introspection. "So many of you are fuck-nuts; I'm not sure what acting responsible is for this set," I added jokingly. "As it stand, you lack the authority to pass judgment on me, Elsa. I promise you that if I feel I'm losing control, I will turn myself in." "Saint Marie would feel better if you stayed here," Elsa insisted. "Is the SD declaring war on House Ishara?" Buffy rose to the challenge. "We (by that she meant my fellow Isharans) have discussed the matter and talked to our best neuroscientist. She cannot definitively tell us Cáel isn't Cáel, so there is no reason to constrain him." Whoa. In our best prospect's educated opinion I was not-not me. Legions of English teachers weren't going to like that. "I have the answer for that," Katrina spoke up. "I owe Cáel and I would pay that debt now. He expressed a desire to see my niece, Aya. Do you still wish that Cáel Ishara?" "More than ever, but the Council is meeting," I sighed. "Buffy is your (dead word spoken), your apprentice," Katrina suggested. "Appoint someone to stand with her." That was more than good advice. Buffy was a woman and, to those who knew of her, as fierce an Amazon as ever lived. That was what Katrina was telling me without telling me. "I choose Daphne Pile, if she will accept, to stand by Buffy's side," I announced. Buffy would need someone who was passionate for my cause and who spoke Old Kingdom Hittite. Buffy still didn't, and the chance of the Council speaking English on her behalf was non-existent. "That is Daphne of House Cotyttia," Pamela corrected me. Who Cotyttia was? I had no idea. I was stupid to think Daphne's actual Amazon surname was Pile. Daphne wasn't even around. Executive Services was functioning fine without me and that meant Daphne had a work queue. "The Thracian Goddess of Sex, Orgies, War and Slaughter," Krasimira gracefully filled in my ignorance. Another whoa, why wasn't she my matron goddess? Tadêfi hauled off and slapped me. The action seemed to take everyone, Tadêfi included, by surprise. "I don't know why I did that," Tadêfi wailed out in despair. I did. It didn't take telepathy to figure out what I had been thinking. To prove my point, Pamela laughed. I cupped Tadêfi's jaw. "Worry not," I cooed. "I had that coming, Dot Ishara," I dodged another one, "isn't happy with me right now." Recall, Tadêfi was hooked up to an old-fashioned party line with the Beyond. "Animaniacs," Pamela snorted. "I so love you. It is my deep and abiding pleasure to have you as my Grandson." "I'm not your grandson," I countered. "Well, I say you are. Now be quiet and accept the shame," Pamela's eyes danced with amusement. "That makes me, Daphne and Brielle incest," I pointed out. "Amazons don't have an incest taboo," Pamela retorted. Duh. They are all women, no chance of seven fingered, Cyclops babies. "Ah, women, misunderstanding and pain, Buffy, would you check out Quebec and see if I'm still wanted in that province for bestiality. It could be important later," I commanded. "Bestiality?" only one woman failed to mutter, sputter or exclaimed. "The complainant in question is not that pissed at you anymore," Katrina's rolodex mind kicked in. "I believe she expressed a desire to question you about some missing accoutrements though." My splitting headache meant I had to think about that, ah yes, her dress uniform. It was/had been Canada Day, thus her having an official function and thus me cheating with the girl from across the hall in the Mountie's bed. I'm an idiot alright and my ability to keep an eye on the clock needs improvement. My last image of her, frothing at the mouth (she was a tad more possessive than I had anticipated) as she screamed out insults in Quebecois French concerning my lineage, personality failings and the treasured parts of my anatomy. She punctuated various parts of that deranged episode by hurling articles of her clothing over the border at me as I turned (once I had good Ole US soil/pavement under my feet) and tried to get us back together. Yes, I had them, just not in my Box of Failed Romances. Acting on hopes of reconciliation, I had the uniform dry cleaned, placed in a dress bag, and the boots polished; both currently occupying space in my closet. At least the Alburgh-Noyan Crossing guards (it is a dual Canadian-American post) appreciated me evading/begging forgiveness long enough for them to see her in only her bra and panties. I imagine they didn't normally get much excitement there. "Katrina, " I began. "Yes, Maya forgives you too, though she scored an 'At Risk' for reliability. Anais sounded genuine," Katrina related. Anais was the Mountie. Maya was the Guyane Française university student from across the hall, the one I was caught cheating with. I had told her I was Anais's brother. Maya was also a super-exceptional cook. "Cáel Ishara, who are these women we are talking about?" Sikia demanded. 'We', that didn't take long. We were now a 'we', which in Amazon meant 'male, you're my property'. "I have a sideline job as an Amway distributor," I replied. "I give crappy customer service." "You give awesome customer service," Katrina riposted. "That's the problem." "Sikia, you are not the first Amazon Cáel has stuck his dick into. You are probably not the tenth," Elsa dripped with frustration. Quick count: Rhada, Buffy, Oneida and Gael, I was only going to count the penile-vaginal penetrations. "They are only numbers five and six, thank you very much," I defended myself. "So much for your 'intern, no sex' policy," Desiree muttered. "Cut me some slack, I work with stone-cold, Olympic level athlete foxes 24/7," I griped. "I am a sexual being too, I have needs." "What about the 'End of Internship' hunting shindig?" Desiree pulled a flawless 'Katrina'. "Oh, it is still on. With my 'do or die' learning curve, it is going to be so much more fun," I grinned. "And, okay, no more Amazon sex until then, sorry Rachel." "Except for house members," Buffy insisted. "No exceptions," Elsa demanded. "I'll keep an eye on him," Pamela resolved the issue. "No more Amazon boinking for him." She was such a liar. She was also a highly accomplished liar because everyone bought it. On with my life. Stage one: exit Katrina's office. Done deal, no problems. Stage two: set up meeting with the Earth  and  Sky. They wanted to meet on their ground. Since I was the uncertain factor in these negotiations, I agreed. I was bringing one, Pamela raised four fingers, four people with me. Who? Outside of Pamela, I had no idea. Stage three: going to medical and putting on my business suit, it was a new one and very, very nice. I was moving up into serious majestic magnate territory. I also picked up buddy number two, FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox. Why had I chosen a federal agent to accompany me to a meeting between two secret societies? I hadn't a clue. Sometimes you have to roll with these things. In the lobby, I picked up number three, Delilah, Mom's MI-6 operative/baby-sitter. Compassionate, caring people were surrounding me all the time. It gave me this sensation of a 'down home' environment no matter where I went, if down home was Gaza, or Donetsk. I think my entourage/lifestyle observation teams had grown to encompass six cars. I was in no condition for riding my bike, so that recourse was denied me. Taxi? One, most were hard-working stiffs like my family who didn't deserve to be caught in a noontime, drive-by assassination attempt. Besides, with my luck I'd meet the guy from Qatar again, the one with the sister with cute eyes. That reminded me, I gave Nicole a call. "How are you doing?" she quickly inquired. "Good," I lied to a past master of shattering perjury. Pause. "I'm surrounded by girls with guns, tailed by your clients, some part of a Federal Task force and some people who I don't know yet. Hold on." I put my hand over my phone. "Delilah, are you packing heat?" I asked softly. She opened her jacket revealing paired revolvers in shoulder holsters. I didn't recognize them so the Brit gave me the 4-1-1. "Ruger Alaskans," she grinned. Bing! Now I recalled them. The girl who taught me to shoot once read some reviews of that beast on her laptop while I gave her a slow, passionate screw from behind. She became all hot and bothered, wiggling, squirming and generally having a grandiose time with my cock deep within. I repeat, this girl really loved guns, a huge cerebral G-spot for her. Oh yeah, the Ruger Alaskan is what you get if you are worried about Grizzly bears popping their heads through the tent flaps late at night. Delilah was probably packing 4 80's. Her guns would turn 250 kilograms of pissed off ursine into an excellent throw-rug in about two shots. In an urban environment,  well, maybe she thought the New York Giants were actually giants, or something like that. Two were overkill, unless you expected someone needing to borrow one. "Just checked. I remain the only one unarmed in my personal carnival of carnage, " my words trailed up to an unintelligible mumble. I was mumbling because suddenly four handguns were casually offered up for my use (Tiger Lily was holding one over her shoulder as she drove), in the same way you'd offer up some Nicorette to a man jonesing for a smoke. Rachel was kind enough to hand me my familiar Glock-22 and Ruger 38 caliber with their accompanying holsters. Two spare clips followed, then I stashed the lot. I scratched my calf. It took me a second to realize I was reaching for my pistol. No, not the one at my hip, or my ankle, but the one, in my boot? "Now that you've been handed firearms of dubious origin, can I get back to questioning you," the FBI agent intruded upon my ruminations. "We were discussing that list of people that are visiting a morgue instead of a court room. What can you tell me?" "Bye Nicole. Miss you. Being interrogated by a blonde FBI lady with a whips scar on her eyebrow and eyes that could scare a badger back into its hole. Later," I cut of my lawyer's fierce demand that I keep my mouth shut. "Nothing useful that wouldn't implicate myself and others in a criminal conspiracy," I answered her. "There is no way I'd name anyone else I suspect of involvement. I feel no guilt over what has happened, so no remorseful confession, and that is based on my belief that cosmic justice has been achieved." "You can't create lists of people for execution," Maddox persisted. "That negates the whole justice system and the principle of innocent until proven guilty." Wow! Except for the two of us, every other person in the car snorted their derision of Maddox's presumptive naiveté. "Do you even believe the tripe spilling from your pie-hole?" Delilah mocked Maddox. "I'm in law enforcement. That means I enforce the laws, not interpret them, or choose which ones I want to obey and which ones to ignore," Virginia fought back. "Love, that's crap and you know it. You are an agent of the US government. You bomb, drone-strike, overthrow lawfully elected governments and assassinate in your nation's best interests," Delilah countered. "You selectively enforce your Constitution when it suits you." "I'm law enforcement, not the military or foreign affairs. Know the difference," Maddox glared. "The pay master is the same,  you willingly collect your thirty pieces of silver; get off your high horse because you are in the shat now, Agent Maddox. I haven't known this crowd an hour and I know for a fact that you are the only US citizen onboard," Delilah chortled. "I don't know their bleeding nationality, but I doubt it is on the UN Charter." Maddox turned to me. "That was succinct and rather accurate," I murmured. "Special Agent Maddox, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are with us because FP (federal prosecutor) Castello feels you can handle this, Umm, unusual set of circumstance. I promise you this, it is going to get worse." "Why don't we test this quaint theory?" FBI Lass challenged us. "Jail, bail, and I'm waking up in Rio de Janeiro in two days," I sighed. "I have a few thousand in the bank, live in a hole and own my father's home, when it clears probate. Only you know I'm flight risk. A dozen people will vouch/lie about my character and that's that. All you've succeeding in doing is making enemies when you need friends." "There is still a matter of multiple people dead under suspicious circumstance," she said. "Imagine for a second that Cáel admits to creating a hit list," Pamela began. "He would never give up the names of the other people involved. He didn't kill anyone, or say 'kill them'. Now what? You still have an abysmal case to put before a judge. Add to that, the mitigating factor of a raped girl. You get to break her down until she's a cooperating witness because she's the only one who can provide you with Cáel's motive," my mentor continued. "Good for you and your team. She gets to betray the man who tried to save her. Cáel promised horrific retribution if any of those in the now-dead crowd hurt her. That is rather unlike him, he normally forgives when given the least excuse. I don't give a damn about women's rights, or the rights of rape victims. I really could give a shit about human rights for that matter. Wronging me is the surest way to early retirement. It is not a matter of strong versus weak, or right versus wrong. What matters to me is who I can trust. I don't know you, thus I don't trust you. I trust your government to be so much chicken shit. I base this on the lack of public torture and execution. I want the families of dying criminals paraded in front of those cock-suckers before the condemned finally perish in agony. I want to see thieves get their forearms hacked off, trial by combat, and respect for your elders. I want to see public officials being sacrificed upon the altar of Jehovah when they leave office. I want to see a system of justice with a soul, not law books thicker than an aircraft carrier's hull. A government 'of the People, by the People, for the People' should be the sole guiding force for your culture and we both know that's never going to happen. I admire your soldiers; not because they are brave and combat effective, they are. I admire them because they are fighting and dying for elected officials and a population that can't locate Afghanistan, or Iraq on a map, can't tell the difference between a Sikh and a Muslim, and thinks 'Pashtun' is an exotic piece of furniture. I admire them because they are better human beings despite you, not because of you," Pamela was coming to her crescendo. "Basically you people, by that I mean most of the human race, are dangerous in your idiocy, arrogance and pride in your ignorance. Not one of you should be allowed to use weapons, or play with fire. For you, unrestricted voting is a crime right up there with inventing, disease prevention, bilingualism and anything that perpetuates your educational system." "Lady, why are you so angry with the world?" Maddox studied Pamela intensely. I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind. "I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time," Pamela grinned. "Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity. You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home," she finished. "It is the perfect weapon." "Liar," I smiled. "You like high performance automobiles too." Did she? I didn't know. "Only with a 2X4 pressing the accelerator as it races toward the lip of a canyon," Pamela bantered back, "with Ursula K. Le Guin strapped in the back seat." "Who?" I inquired. "She's an author. I take exception to some of her work and unwillingness to appreciate the fusion of exceptional feminine characteristics with power positions," Pamela answered. "And your critique of her life's work is an exploding car at the bottom of a cliff?" I smiled. "Starting uncontrolled wildfires and littering, two of my favorite activities," she laughed. "I'll stick with blondes and brunettes, and red- and raven-haired, bald has its own appeal, green and purple have their own kink going on, " I joked. "Wait! We were talking about people being murdered and you two are cracking jokes?" Maddox rumbled. "I had a dream about tying them together with nylon cord and tossing them off the back ramp of a transport aircraft, and watching them fall, and fall," Rachel sighed dreamily. "Atta girl," I play-punched Rachel's shoulder. "What is your part in all of this?" Maddox turned to Rachel. "I'm the head of his bodyguard detail," Rachel gave her confession of the damned. "And you want to kill him, " Virginia struggled to keep up. "Given time, you will too," Rachel promised. "According to his pre-employment records, only one woman he's had a sexual relationship with hasn't wanted to at least hurt him," glaring at me, "badly." "The nun doesn't want me dead!" I vocally protested. "It is so wrong that you are proud that of over 200 women you've slept with, TWO have not, at some point in knowing you, wanted to maul you and one of those is in the 'forgiving' business," Rachel chastised me. Virginia had an answer for my madness. Her phone came out and she hit speed-dial, work. "Ms. Castello, this is Special Agent Maddox, do you have a moment?" Virginia calmly asked when she finally wrangled my current-favorite fed's attention. "You do now? Thank you. I'd like to know what the fuck have you done to me? This assignment is nuts. Either I'm part of some elaborate prank, or I'm in an S U V with escapees from the looney bin." Ten seconds later Maddox gave me the phone. "Stop it. I've upheld my end of the bargain, so behave," Javiera ordered. Man, she'd shot me straight to the core and we hadn't even slept together yet. Clever, clever girl. "Yes Ma'am," I swore. "I'll do my best to buffer Special Agent Maddox from the truth." "I'll have to accept that," Javiera conceded. "Give Maddox the phone back." A brief conversation later and Maddox was no better off than when she started. Thankfully we parked in front of the Kazakhstan Consulate in New York, giving us all an excuse to face facts. Maddox was feeling compelled to ask questions she didn't want the answers to, and that we didn't want to answer. Saved by work. "Kazakhstan Consulate? Why are we here?" both Virginia and Rachel asked. "Oh! This is going to be good," Pamela leaned forward excitedly. "Change the course of human history," I answered with a great deal of confidence I didn't feel. See, I had knowledge critical to the Earth  and  Sky. That knowledge was also something they wanted kept compartmentalized, so they might take exception to it being possessed by an outsider. Oh,  so that's why Pamela earlier insisted on four ladies being with me, so we could shoot our way out if things turned ugly. I hugged my mentor. "Thank you, Pamela." "You are coming along nicely, Mr. Potter," Pamela patted my cheek. "Your praise leaves me suspicious, Professor Snape. Besides, if I'm going to die, it helps me to know you'll go first ." "That was uncalled for," Pamela chided me. It was the 'Snape' role she rejected. "Snape gave up his life for Harry, Dumbledore died for Draco," I countered. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Pamela shone with joy and pride. "You act like I have a choice," I sighed. "Touché," Pamela nodded. "I see what you mean about these two," Maddox addressed Rachel. "Oh my God," Delilah laughed. "You wove Harry Potter into a life and death conversation and it made sense. I am probably going to die, but I'll die knowing I have lived." "Not you too?" Maddox glared at Delilah. Rachel just shook her head. We exited the car, settled ourselves out. Rachel took point, Delilah took one flank while Pamela took the other. By happenstance, I ended up in the middle, yeah right, with Virginia covering my back. "You stay here," Pamela put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You'll need to lead the team in if someone 'pumps up the volume'." Interesting euphemism for 'when people start killing people'. "What are we doing today?" Miyako 'appeared'. She'd been walking down the sidewalk toward us, the Kazak Consulate was a townhouse, but her presence hadn't registered. "I require your pledge of silence on what is to transpire. No death is intended," I stated calmly to Miyako. "I didn't know you were versed in ninja contracts, much less spoke Japanese?" Miyako responded. Blink. "I didn't know I spoke it either, " I mumbled. "No sweat," Pamela tried to hustle us along. "He's a quick study." Yeah. I didn't feel it apropos to point out I hadn't heard myself speaking Japanese, or understood that my words had some secret meaning. "How important is this to my people?" Miyako asked. Now that I was paying attention to it, I could make out that she was speaking in her native tongue. "If they don't think we can be trusted to not speak of what is to transpire for a week, they are going to kill us," I related my suspicions. "My mind and heart are joined in this decision." "I give you my pledge," Miyako nodded. She looped her arm in mine. "Does anyone care to enlighten me?" Maddox prodded. Whoa. It seemed that, beside me and Miyako, only Pamela spoke Japanese. "Special Agent Maddox, no matter what, don't give up your gun, when we say run, run, and shoot to kill because they will be trying to kill us," I informed her. "Does the term 'extraterritoriality' mean anything to anyone here?" Maddox snapped. Her nervousness was totally understandable. I stopped at the top of the steps, looking over my shoulder. I nodded. Pamela, Delilah and Miyako nodded as well. "Hold on, I can't believe I'm saying this. Does anyone have a back-up I can use?" Maddox groaned. Rachel quick-stepped forward and handed over a 22 automatic pistol then a spare clip with a smooth, practiced motion that suggested that SD swapped weapons all the time. Maddox didn't miss the casualness of the gesture. The firearm and magazine disappeared. "Fine, we will never discuss the laws we just butchered, ever, and if I die and any of you make it out alive, I will seek revenge at whatever cost FROM WHEREVER I AM," FBI girl growled. "One of us," Pamela smirked at me as I touched the doorbell. It opened promptly. We weren't on a crowded street, we were on their stoop and a security camera was pointed right at us. We were invited in and two rather Caucasian-looking gentlemen (Kazaks are a mixed bag of Turks and Cumans) were waiting with the doorman. They looked tough in that they took personality lessons from saddle leather. "You will place your weapons there," the more charismatic of the two spoke up. He was pointing to a side table that looked large enough for the task. "No," was the most courteous response I could muster. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look much like he was breathing, or blinking either. "Go," he pointed to the door. I looked to Pamela. "Well, that didn't take long," I grinned. I felt out the necklace under my shirt and pulled it over my head. "Please return this to its owner in the spirit it was given." He took it. The doorman opened the door and out we went. Rachel was back in our GL550, using the door as possible cover. She said we could take our seats and away we rolled. Maddox looked apoplectic. She had prepared herself for the Wild, Wild West, not a doe-see-doe at the door. In her mind, I had wound her up for nothing. My phone rang. "Cáel Ishara, there seems to have been a diplomatic miscommunication," a male native Turkish-speaker said in heavily accented English. "The person you are meeting must be approached in the spirit of peace." "No, I understood you perfectly," I assured him. "We aren't the Brownies, or the Girl Scouts, Buddy. I don't know, or trust you and you don't know, or trust me, yet. I will compromise though. I will respect your traditions. I will enter your home unarmed. In turn, everyone in the building will line up outside on the street except for the person I'm supposed to meet. Is that acceptable?" Pause. "Do you hate these people, or like them?" Maddox grumbled. "With you, I can't quite tell." "That would not be acceptable," the man finally responded. "Perhaps an alternative. You come in, alone yet armed." "Nope. Due to the efforts of people far smarter than me, I know pretty much who I am meeting, so I am either very rude, insane, or bear a message that is worth my life," I countered. "Your personal safety is guaranteed," was the counter-offer. "That is a false promise, not because you lack honor, or respect for me, but because you are from a wise and noble lineage with a historical propensity of cutting to the heart of any problem." By that, I meant they'd cut my heart out. "What I expect is for every one of you to hold the future of the Earth  and  Sky above any such concepts as personal promises, hospitality, and honor. I am even putting my faith in your willingness to put the survival of the Earth  and  Sky over your own well-being," I riposted. "If the message is so crucial, you should be willing to come alone," back at me. "It isn't important to me," I stated. "Listen, a war is about to break out. Unless we both want to be found all alone in the outhouse masturbating when the headsman comes, one of us has to blink. Today, it is you. Tomorrow you may be able to return the favor and mess with my head." Pause. "Your koumiss is getting warm." "We'll be right there. We apologize for the delay. Traffic is murder these days, or a close facsimile thereof," I gave a little back in the humility department. "Tiger Lily, " "On it, Ishara, Wakko Ishara. I've been circling the block," Tiger Lily had anticipated my antics. Sure, I acted like I had no game plan, but I never wasted people's time. Maybe if I developed an actual game plan I could do even better. "Wakko Ishara?" it was Delilah's and Maddox's turn to share a 'what the?' moment. "May I explain the sacred names?" Rachel requested of me. "I have a feeling these two might become a fixture." "By all means, Rachel. Our trust runs deep," I trusted Rachel with more than my life; I trusted her with my future. "Wakko, as in you're the nutty one?" Delilah made a stab at our arcane nomenclature. If you use small words does that make it gnomenclature? Pamela winked at me, psychic twin grandmother powers activate! "We need complementary rings," Pamela remarked. Sweet! "Cáel Ishara is differentiated as Wakko Ishara, Ishara, first of House Ishara, is Yakko Ishara, and, " Rachel began. "The Animaniacs? Your code names are the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot?" Maddox gasped. "You are beyond nuts." "And the Goddess Ishara is named, by House Ishara and House Ishara alone," Rachel made some warding appeal against divine punishment, "as Dot Ishara." Maddox's face shown with disbelief. "Following Cáel Ishara into battle has been one of my greatest pleasures," Rachel stared at Maddox. "I never knew insanity could be so liberating, or that laughing at death could be such an aphrodisiac." "When did you two go into battle?" Delilah wondered. "In a morgue, fighting to retrieve the body of his fallen father so that our enemies could not desecrate it," Rachel explained. Ah, the walls of Troy, fighting over the spoils of the dead. "You mean when I face-planted?" I grinned at Rachel. "Even without a weapon, your instincts were good, forcing our enemy to commit to multiple angles of coverage even though your efforts were foiled by a footing failure. Your rushing their leader was even more heroic in that you were unarmed and using your body as a decoy, knowing your enemy's superior skill would stop him from shooting you," Rachel smiled my way, sex. "Let me get this straight," Miyako finally spoke up. "You charged an enemy unarmed then stumbled and failed. They were armed?" "Yes, with a 3 57 Magnum revolver and a 10 gauge sawed-off automatic shotgun, in tight confines and close range, oh, and no cover." Maddox replied, then to me, "I read the report." "Then you repeated the action a few minutes," Miyako. "Less than a minute later," Maddox clarified. "A minute later, wow! You are as fearless as we've heard. Please don't die before we have a baby," Miyako gave me a quick hug. If you cover a zeppelin with uranium paint, can it still fly, or does it sink to the center of the Earth? Ninja babies, We had returned to the stairs at the Consulate. This time the door swung open upon our approach. "Is there some drug you are all taking to bask in this shared fantasy life?" Maddox mumbled. "One of us," Pamela retorted. "One of us." "One of us," I joined in. It helped cut the tension. The bodyguards were present right where we'd them last time. They ushered us up the stairs to a second floor sitting room that ate up half the floor. There were two men there; radiating that subtle assurance that a half-dozen killers were close by. The man standing was Iskender, the E and S emissary from Dad's funeral. I broke all decorum, strode to the man, locked arms, hugged him tight and patted him on the back. "Thank the spirits you are here," I whispered, "all this lack of dick is making me a bit stir-crazy." "Ah, yes, it is good to see you again too," Iskender imparted as we broke our embrace. His boss, the guy on the sofa, shot me and my Kyrgyz buddy a sharp look. The Main Man was clearly Mongolian and must have thought blank, white walls exhibited too much empathy. "Koumiss," the boss offered. I sipped it from a simple, yet regal drinking mug that probably hit the kiln 200 years ago. "Mare, or yak?" I inquired as I handed the cup around. Iskender came first, but it was clearly my intention that we all partake. It was more a matter of the host's pledge of sanctuary than me wanting to share the koumiss. It tasted like thin, lightly chilled, bitter beer with a vanilla-almond milk shake-chaser. "Mare, of course. Please sit," he offered. He defined the suggestion by slipping off the sofa onto the layered carpet rug. He was semi-reclined, so we followed suit. "We should pray for the protection of the spirits," was the suggestion that wasn't a suggestion. It was his itinerary. He clapped his hands and from beyond a curtained partition came this really sensual Mongolian chick carrying a large brass bowl. She flicked her eyes at me and an instant connection was formed. She liked to bark like a dog under the full moon, okay, I'm not sure where that came from. "Nice woman," I told the leader. "She looks like she has seen many winters." Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I got a shocked reaction from Iskender. The Leader looked pissed, if a flake of paint on the white wall indicated anger. The girl blushed like what I said was an incredible turn on. "She is my daughter," the Leader pointed out. Way past swallowing my foot. My ankle was tasty. "My name is Oyuun Tömörbaatar. My faithful Iskender, you know. This is my daughter T. Sarangerel. She is studying at N Y U and is not entertaining marriage proposals at this time," he slapped down his boundaries. Somehow 'I only want to sleep with her' didn't sound like the right response. Wait! Saying his 'daughter had many winters' was a marriage bargaining opening move. What the fuck! "What I meant was that surely many men have died trying to come before you," I back-pedaled. More happy looks from the daughter. More paint peeling from the dad. Pamela made sure more koumiss was going around. Getting drunk could hardly hurt at this juncture. Sarangeral placed the bowl between us. It was filled with clear, cold water undoubtedly collected from a mountain-fed glacier. "Let us cleanse our hands in the water so that we may speak with clarity," O. Tömörbaatar said. We dipped our fingers and, for a second, I saw him. Not 'O', but HIM. "It is good to finally meet you Ferko Ishara Cáel Nyilas," the man said. My Spidey senses told me he was feeling less 'good' about this meeting every second. "How can your people and mine better get along?" 'Let me impregnate your daughter', would probably get my skull split open. "No time for that," I replied. "I know where HE is. The Seven Pillars have found a way to search the Weave and are closing in. You must act with haste." Whether it was disbelief, or old schooled Ku Chun in the art of gambling, the older man gave no outward reaction. "Where is he?" O. Tömörbaatar asked in a gentle tone. "I can do you one better," I steeled myself for the unknown forces I was invoking. I put my hands on the bowl's lip and looked in. Several seconds later, he did as well. For a moment, nothing. It was like a ripple in reverse. The first earth tremor I barely noticed. The ripples grew and grew until I felt the whole row of townhouses would come crashing down. Wind snapped the locks on the windows, flinging them wide open and tearing at the curtains like streamers in a hurricane. Then we saw HIM clearly. HE stopped driving this old, beat-up Peugeot and was pulling to the side of a desolate stretch of highway. HE could sense something yet couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. We definitely got the impression this wasn't his first taste of this experience, the Seven Pillars. He was young, maybe my age. He looked like an educated man turned vagabond/boundless traveler. HIS eyes, his eyes had a depth that were a microcosm of what I'd glimpsed in Ishara, Dot Ishara's unshielded glance when we first met. All lingering doubts vanished in my mind. "I know that place," O T muttered, his eyes fixated on the only feature in the vacant expanse, a road sign, in Chinese. Yikes. "I know that place." The image faded. Our meeting venue was intact. Whatever I felt transpire, I had shared with O. Tömörbaatar alone. "You have work to do," I stated as I cleared my throat. "I will leave you to it." I stood. "What do you wish for this gift?" O T reached out and touched my sleeve. "When the time comes, maybe you can help us," I replied. "A man who asks for nothing can expect anything," O T smiled for the first time. "Go." I did not take a fear-free breath until the cars started up and we pulled away. He'd let us live. Even with that priceless piece of magical insight, he'd let us live. "I'm still stunned we got out alive," I sighed. "I wasn't really sure he'd take the news as well as he did." No one said anything for a minute. "Why would he have killed us?" Delilah inquired. "You, I understand. I don't know what you communicated to that young lady, but the old guy wasn't happy about it. He was going to kill us over that?" Pause. "What did the rest of you see and hear?" I looked around the cabin. Pamela appeared worried. "I didn't know you spoke Chagatai," Miyako smiled at me. "You are full of surprise. I only caught a word, or two, and none of it made sense." "MRI," I groaned. "Magnetoencephalography," Pamela said in the same breath. "Mine is better, Boyo." "What is going on?" Rachel upped her alertness level. "We need to take Cáel to a hospital that has a Magnetoencephalography device," Pamela insisted. "He's spontaneously speaking languages he didn't know moments earlier, " Maddox put things together first. The rest nodded at her assessment. "We'll need to have his records from Havenstone sent over as a baseline." Poor Virginia, the absurdity of my life was sucking her in. "I'll call Katrina," Rachel informed us. I was a mental case once more. At least my input was still being solicited. "How many guns do you have on you?" Pamela zinged me. The answer was obvious, two. My Glock and my back-up. That didn't seem right. "Ah, two?" I responded. "Yeah, something is happening to your muscle memory as well," Pamela shook her head. "What exactly does that mean, and what's wrong with Cáel's brain?" Delilah studied the group. "It means he could spontaneously pull out his gun and start shooting us?" Pamela confessed her uncertainty. "I don't know. We'd better figure out which impulses are his guiding light right now before that happens." "I don't even know how to begin reporting this," Maddox muttered. "Cheer up. Our Cáel is still currently in charge. Did you appreciate how he lured in that young Mongolian girl? That's classic Cáel," Pamela comforted the crowd. I was saved from a straightjacket because I was a 'Playa'. (Meadowlands Medical Center in far off New Jersey) I'm not political. For me, that means I am completely and utterly dedicated to whatever doctrine that the cutest political campaigner in front of me endorses. Fifteen minutes on the internet and you can fake it like a pro. Be careful to be with the winning team when the results come in. Nothing makes a political chick go wild like sneaking into the candidate's office and screwing her on the newly elected/re-elected figure's desk. Let her scream out her idol's name. Odds are neither of you will be welcomed back afterwards anyway. Why politics now? Javiera called some people. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone I knew and trusted got in touch with my 'Aunts' as well. All I knew for sure was the Hospital's Administrator's phone began ringing off the hook and I'd become the hospital's number one priority. The hospital staff was visibly irritated with the clout raining down on their heads for about an hour. Once they digested my Havenstone records, all of that changed. Holy 'Published in The New England Journal of Medicine', someone had drilled a micro-surgical hole in my skull in the middle of a wrestling match with no resulting cerebral scarring. THEN this unknown device shot into my skull with pinpoint accuracy and pumped a ghastly amount of energy into my cerebrum. They were fascinated. They were so fascinated I heard two medical technicians mutter about where the Zombie Survival Guide could be found. They triple checked my vital signs, again. I was still as much alive as when I checked myself in. There was a rumor that a fire ax disappeared from a stairwell close by, but not one confessed to the deed. I was speaking in languages I had no reason to know? They were surprised I could contain my mouth drool. It was somewhat disheartening to hear three seasoned physicians discuss what probable scenarios could explain me still being in a non-vegetative state,  or alive for that matter. Some poor nurse had to ask. "Do you feel an unnatural, interest in human brains?" she whispered when she though no one was close by. "I'm not sure what you mean," I whispered back. "I always respect a woman's intelligence. Sex is a cerebral passion. What's the point if you can't communicate with your partner?" Pamela slapped me upside my head. That disturbed just about everybody else in the vicinity and my mentor was promptly exiled from the room. I was curious about what havoc she was perpetrating on this establishment. My condition had gotten her past all the heavy security and I knew without seeing that someone high ranking had misplaced their ID badge. Maybe Pamela was the love-child of Batman and Cat woman. Before you think that's comic fanboy talk, recall what my life was like at that moment. Tests ensued. The staff decided that Havenstone employed a bunch of quacks and snake charmers. Two hours later, they found out they were wrong. Larger battery of tests, same results. I was the second coming of Christ, back from the dead, or a zombie living in a convincing state of denial. Some folks wouldn't let that go. Pamela had proved to be prophetic. Her pet gizmo finally provided a new picture of what my neural pathways were up to. If there is any doubt, 'I've never seen that before' is not what you want to hear one of North America's experts in the field of neuroscience say. The first educated opinion was that I suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that meant I was hit in the head a lot. Normally that diagnosis comes in the midst of an autopsy. I was having paralytic seizures. They had me juggle a squeeze-ball, then two and finally three. My perfect performance frustrated them. Women find relatively simple carnival tricks to be seductive. Pluck a card from a girl's bra gets you both to some dark corner, hungrily looking for the rest of the deck, I speak from experience. Next up at bat: 'I was possessed', I shit you not. Holistic medicine was right on board with the team. Was I influenced by a supernatural power? Yes I was. So claimed the majority of people on Earth. Did I receive specific instructions? Yes, and so did practitioners of Voodoo/Vodun on three continents. I added that I attempted to evade said instructions when I could. Did I have 'evil' impulses to hurt myself, or others? Huh? For starters, my matron goddess was more of a 'fucker' than a 'fighter' and her instructions were always suitably vague, the same way a Philosophy professor would give you a ten word pointless sentence on Friday and expect you to have a 250 page doctrine on Monday morning. That hit home. Too many normally smart people take a philosophy class in college hoping for an easy-A. Some teachers love dissolving those delusion, sitting back and watching your hopes and dreams of task-free weekends go down the drain. The more obscure the discipline, the more perverse the desire. That is why you always pick a teacher of the opposite gender (if in doubt, use a gay/lesbian test) and keep 'sex for grades' on the menu. Was I suffering from optical illusions, or phantom noises? Straight to the point, yes, I saw and talked with ghosts. So did the Long Island Medium, the casts of Ghost Hunters, Paranormal Witness plus George Anderson and Chip Coffey. To my credit, I didn't do it for profit, or in order to influence people. Was I seeing ghosts now? I was in hospital, so odds weren't bad. I had every non-ghost raise their left hand. No ghosts. Was my paranormal dementia pre- or post-brain trauma? Did seeing a college student being called before his class and successfully accused of plagiarism on his senior thesis, turning him into one of the Restless Dead count? No? My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much. Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife, to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone. Had any done so, I would have denied them. Such actions were immoral and I could still freely differentiate between right and wrong. I preferred to commit wrong on my own initiative and making me do good was a chore most sane people abandoned after a few days. I took a Rorschach test. The results were predictable because I had taken old 'R' several times before. Just like every other time, I'd mixed up sexual innuendo with a psychological test to seduce the test-giver,  everything reminded me of intercourse. I changed it up with this girl. I gave her numbers. Sometime after I was long gone, they were going to figure out the ink blots were numbered after whichever erotic positions from the Kama Sutra I was reminded of at the time. I knew that wasn't being helpful and I was certain I wasn't a brain specialist. I also knew Rorschach wasn't the key to solving my woes. Final remaining hypothesis, I was utilizing 30 % of my brain capacity with three independent patterns emerging, not the usual 5 %. For that to work, my brain had to be oozing out my ears because brains generate a terrific amount of heat. My temperature was a steady 37.3 C (99 F) and my ear channels were free of obstruction. Hey man, cleaning your ears is quick and easy. Don't risk turning off a date with misfortunately located ear-hair and wax. How was my brain shedding the heat? Their solution, let's do a Spinal Tap. No way. I'd seen that band and they were all extremely fucked up, even for old guys. I wasn't going down that road. They insisted. I suggested that I consent to the procedure with the condition that I received no pain killers/sedatives of any kind and I got to grab and hold onto the testicles of my two, current, least favorite doctors. When they realized I was deadly serious and immovable on the issue, they came up with a new plan, no Spinal Tap. Gutless sissies. Into this vacuum of information, a brainstorm emerged (besides my inexplicable one). They would talk to me, no more interrogations, an actual verbal exchange. They couldn't come over and start flapping their gums like some punk rock band with no talent. They were suddenly worried about 'concerning' me and 'agitating my unstable state'. I pray to Goddess Ishara that one day soon they play back the tapes of their early hours working on me and pay close attention to my facial expressions of shock, horror, fear and depression as they clearly and openly talked about me as if I was the Fiji Mermaid. But hey, a few of them were kinda cute, so in the final analysis all that emotional trauma worked its way out. Hospital highlights: (Understand, I was lying on a table while various specialists prodded and talked about me as if I wasn't there. To strike back at reality, I throbbed my penis every time this cute Parasitologist looked at it. Finally ) Female Chief of Neurosurgery: "Did anyone think to study changes in is body's nervous system?" (Guilty looks all around) Neuro Surgeon: "What are all these needle marks?" Havenstone Medico, "Those are muscle stimuli insertion sites. They kept his musculature from atrophying while he was in a coma." Neuro Surgeon: "Let me get this straight. This man had a lightning bolt go off in his head and part of your healthcare regimen was to run a constant current of electricity throughout the rest of his body." (Scathing looks at the Medico from everyone else, jackals) HM: "He has retained excellent muscle tone." Neuro Surgeon: "Have you even taken the Hippocratic Oath?" HM: (offended) "Of course not, he's Greek." Neuro Surgeon: "What does my patient being Greek have to do with anything?" HM: "Not him (pointing at me). Hippocrates, he was a Greek. Cáel is Magyar/Irish Gaelic." Neuro Surgeon: "Helpful, that's not. He seems to have a great deal of bruises and scarring, some of it certainly received over an extensive period of time. Is this your work?" HM: (in a positive note) "No. It has not been my pleasure to spar with Cáel yet." Neuro Surgeon: "Isn't he a bit, big for you?" &

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..