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Guardian Goddess in Manhattan.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels."Our Princess grew up around a woman whose keen intellect we rely on to protect us from unseen enemies," Saint Marie's voice became deeper and more threatening. "At the age of ten, she," Saint Marie looked my way as my hand shot up mimicking Aya's identical plea for attention."Yes Ishara?" Saint Marie chose to acknowledge me."She's nine.""Fine. At the age of nine, she earned an honorific, Mamētu me eda, which I didn't accomplish until my 19th year." 'Yes Ladies, I'm an epic bad-ass and I've been out-performed by a child'."She was kidnapped along with the Head of House Ishara. They tortured her by clipping off two of her digits, one at a time, then seared the damage with a blowtorch. She gave them nothing. At the end of the encounter, the two of them managed to defeat thirty Seven Pillar's commandos, over fifteen she disabled personally.""After killing nearly half as many enemies as the 35 I have personally dispatched in my entire career, she crossed a mile and a half of barren rock in the midst of a Category 4 Typhoon. Cáel Ishara only helped her half of the way because he was engaged with the last two members of the Seven Pillar's team.""I have utter confidence the madness here today, while assisted by House Epona and Ishara, was the brainchild of Krasimira. I say 'assisted' because Cáel Ishara spared Kwenhamai's life on the battlefield. Katrina Epona removed Kwenhamai from Romanian custody to keep her out of the hands of those who wished us harm. I was aware Kwenhamai was in New York, but not her precise location.""My read on the situation is this:"Aya of Kururiyahhssi was aware of Kwenhamai and Krasimira's plot to adopt her into the bloodline of the first Amazon.""She was not aware of Kwenhamai's plan to exit the Host in the manner she chose. I read the shock and pain in, Aya's face.""Our Princess has not given me a single order and I am the only voice here today that matters, I am the Golden Mare and the Council has consistently failed to agree on a Regency.""Krasimira, why have you done this?" Saint Marie abruptly asked for either a denial, or acquiescence of her perception of events."As directed by the Ancestors, the statute of a goddess of a First House was recast then returned to her perpetual spot. It brought new light to a dark, sacred and painful place. In that moment I realized that for the first time in nearly 3,200 years, the descendants of every Amazon gathered before the walls of Wilusa (Troy) had been reunited.""I was troubled. Was this a portent the augurs couldn't divine? In their council (the augurs) then came up with the words 'speak to our eldest'."Oh shit, the rest of the Council was racking their minds trying to figure who was the oldest surviving Amazon. I knew for a fact they were overlooking the two top candidates."I sought out the eldest Amazon alive. They claimed to not have the answer for my worries. She had far more numerous things weighing on her mind such as her intimate demise. Though I hated sharing the same air with her, I asked her to tell me her greatest regret.""I had given up on the Amazon Race until an Amazon reminded me, through martial effort, valiant spirit and a kind heart, I was wrong to abandon my faith with my people. Now I will die, unable to pass on my renewed hope because the one Amazon I would trust with my legacy is equally childless.""I asked her the name of this Amazon she felt was worthy of her legacy. Then I informed her she was wrong and the Amazon in question did indeed have a daughter. She asked to meet the daughter,""Last night I requested the presence of a female child residing with members of House Epona," the Keeper of Records looked up at the Golden Mare. "I provided neither the resident female (Caitlyn, Aya's Mother), or the House Head with an explanation."Female childSince my revival, Amazons were using 'female' child a lot more often. This meant, the motheer had never told her daughter farewell. The true fate of Aya of Epona would never officially be recorded. She has been born, but never recorded as an Amazon of her true House."The three of us met alone. The two embraced; birth mother and daughter. The eldest of us proclaimed she saw the light of Kururiyahhssi in her daughter's eyes. Words were exchanged. The child agreed to be adopted then departed. Further arrangements were made without the child's knowledge as we have recently observed.""I testify that there is only one Amazon alive today who knows what transpired and I will take those conversations to my grave. Does that suffice?" Krasimira finished. I was already regurgitating my mental quandary with my Isharans. Was Aya really a daughter of Kururiyahhssi?"I will leave it to the others to contemplate your, bizarre actions, Krasimira," Saint Marie frowned. "As for the rest of you, Aya has impressed me. If she has not impressed you, I do not care. I think she is definitely influenced by those two," Saint Marie motioned to Katrina and me. "It is a given since Katrina was of her blood and she has risked much in the presence of a man she calls 'Atta' and he calls 'Duma'.""Katrina is a cold, heartless snake and I am convinced she is one of the best 'First Bearer of the Sun Spear through the Halls of Night and Death' the Host been served by in a long, long time.” Saint Marie paused then looked at me while she said; “ Cáel is a fool who leads with his heart when he should let better women take charge. Fortunately for the rest of us, he is reliably successful despite his multitude of handicaps."Was I upset about being insulted? No. The truth hurts and a Man needs to learn to roll with the punches. Buffy I could deal with. Katrina most likely appreciated being associated with a dangerous reptile. Saint Marie hadn't forgotten Katrina threating Saint Marie's daughter that was for sure."I am considering much of what our Princess would like me/us to do, because it is based in keen insight and well-reasoned thought. She wishes to spare our sons so we will have more warriors in the fight. We have already added men to Havenstone and one to the Council, as was the Will of the Ancestors.""Let me see, she wishes a bodyguard of fourteen (2 First House and 1 from Africa, Asia, Europe and North & South America, the Amazon presence in Australia was minimal and I doubted they would bring someone up from Antarctica, plus the seven matching Runners) without removing permanent members of any House and allowing all Houses to have access to our future Queen. I approve. It is a fine idea and I wish I had thought of it.""Should we add Runners directly into the Royal House? She doesn't think so and I feel this decision shows a remarkably insightful into the long history of our People and protects the Council's sensitivity on such matters. I approve.""Placing our sons into the care of the Royal House? We need to free up as many sisters as possible. Men under the care of the Royal House will be tradesmen and help-mates. Not a single weapon will be in their hands. If none of you have realized herlike will take two decades to implement, it only increases my eagerness to see her become 'casted'."Aya's hand shot up again.Yes?""I would hope the Council, or the Regents, will consider a 'like' which is not mine. It is a man's and it should be of no surprise the idea is Cáel's.""If you feel it holds merit, Aya, tell us," Saint Marie deferred."The 9 Clans have shown some interest in a children exchange programs among our youth as it would provide new techniques we can add to our arsenal an a new avenue to experiment with new ideas. I find the idea to be promising as the Host takes part in affairs beyond our own immediate needs. It would also supply partners between families to be shared for a season or two."Translation: Amazon women could breed with men of allied Secret Societies to reduce our dependence on our own, much smaller, male population. In the short term, it would go a long way to rectifying the Host's child-bearing problems.The Council's quarrelsome behavior was biting them in the ass big time. Saint Marie was right, the only opinion that mattered was hers until the Council elected a Regency. Had we not been at war, the Council would have ruled, but we were, so we took orders from the Golden Mare. Even if the High Priestess had been alive, she would have deferred to our designated War Leader on most things."Cáel Ish, Cáel Wakko Ishara is a very dangerous and devious male, Aya. Be careful of any council he gives," Saint Marie's caution was more playful than menacing."I'll be okay," Aya peeped. "He doesn't have sex with any woman until she is eighteen." That wasn't what the Golden Mare was cautioning her about. We all knew it. Aya was working to defuse a sticky bit of mental juggling, listening to a man's advice."On that we can agree," Saint Marie conceded. "Back to what I would 'like' to say. The New Directive is being implemented. I feel it goes beyond the purview of my mandate. I will leave it for the Regency to deal with. Katrina and Tessa have already invested in the groundwork in this endeavor, so I will endorse it if that is the decision of the Regency.""I have zero desire to add a single Runner to the Security Detail. I will open up slots in the training program if that is what the Regency demands. Each House's policy for dealing with the First Directive is their business, not mine. If any of you wish to consider something the Princess considers to be important, so be it. The idea of 1,000 Isharans does not appeal to me. Look how much trouble their tiny numbers have already caused us and take heed."Buffy began growling, which amused/worried the Houses on either side of us. Unlike me, Buffy didn't 'roll with the blows' and considered all manner of insults to me, House Ishara and her Isharan sisters to be answerable with violence. I loved her so. There was also no way I'd let her go after Saint Marie. The Golden Mare would crush her; I had no doubt."The unwelcome blood feud: are both House Heads ignorant of my forbiddance of such things? Apparently so. Both defied me by tossing insults back and forth. Considering we are at war with two of the most powerful Secret factions, I am angered by both for their idiocy.""The solution the Princess likes is rather novel," Saint Marie was punishing both Messina and me with her low voice and fiery gaze. Krasimira coughed."Yes?" Saint Marie suspended her anger."The suggested resolution is not without precedence," Krasimira spoke with a scholarly detachment. "In our early days, the Host settled such disputes in Spring and Fall gatherings by contests of foot speed, hunting, horsewomanship, archery and wrestling. If we revive the tradition, the competing Houses could nominate one woman for each contest to settle the matter. Only the hand-to-hand match would risk either contestant's health.""I will consider it and render judgement before the Sun sets today," Saint Marie nodded. "The final like pleases me greatly. Dealing with the 52 of you is, Cáel?"I was on the spot. I couldn't let down my fan base of one, Aya. Perhaps it was five, Buffy (who would never admit it), Daphne (who liked me), Katrina (because she liked fucking with my head) and Desiree (who was less likely to admit she found me funny than Buffy).I felt I gave a decent effort."'A ginormous pain in my hemorrhoids?' the basic one.""'More painful than having my cornea scrapped with a spoon?' more gruesome.""'Enough to make me want to give Sakuniyas a surprise French kiss?' most likely to be fatal.""'Worse than waking up to discover I'm related to Cáel Wakko Ishara?' most horrifying, for both of us.""'Inspiring me to toss it all away and take up Professional Bikini Mud Wrestling?' a personal fantasy of mine.""Why do we put up with him again?" one House Head remarked."Because I am worried that one," motioning to Buffy, "will stab me in the elevator after a meeting.""My First, are you acting psychotic around the Council members?" I looked over my shoulder at Buffy."Wakko Ishara, it is not an act. I am psychotic," she responded deadpan."Are you still packing that thermite grenade?""No Wakko Ishara. Daphne stole it from me and hid it," was her quick delivery."I love working with you two," Daphne whispered."What is it with you, your unsubtle sexual innuendo and me in a bikini?" Saint Marie stared at me."I find the combination of brilliance and lethality sexy. Just ask Elsa," I grinned. Then I grimaced as Buffy stomped on my toes. The House Heads and Apprentices on either side of me noticed and clearly expected me to do something, like to show outrage (because she was my underling), or start crying (because I was a guy)."Prestige," Daphne hissed quietly. "Prestige." She was reminding Buffy that beating me up in public made the other Amazons think even less of me than they already did."I will go with (B), the cornea scrapping," Saint Marie gave me a nod."Damn it," I muttered. I also got my foot out of the way before someone did any more damage to my phalanges.'Best Daddy Ever,' Aya mouthed to me. Back to the main action."It is not my place to order the rest of you to elect Shawnee, Rhada and Buffy to be the Regency. I do admit I admire the mixture of candidates," Saint Marie declared. I shot Rhada a quick look. She seemed really, really enamored of the idea of being part of the Regency, thus staying in New York for the next decade, or so."Before the idea is rejected out of hand, I suggest we ask the three people our Princess would like to be part of the Regency if they would accept the nomination," the Golden Mare continued. "Shawnee Arinniti?""I bow to the logic and reason of the proposal," Shawnee replied."Rhada Meenakshi?""I wish to join my sisters in battle, yet I accept the reasoning behind the proposal," Rhada nodded. "If my Head of House agrees, I will stay and do my part for our People." What was she saying to me? 'You are going to whip me, beat me, torture me, humiliate me and push me to beyond the limits of any pain I have experienced until I pass out ~ repeatedly'."I despair of finding any other compromise," Mahdi frowned. "If my Apprentice understands the greater difficulty she will face gaining prestige among her House-mates, I will consent to this proposal." Essentially a 'yes'."Buffy Ishara?""I was really looking forward to ripping the spines out of still living foes, but I would be a fool to go against Aya of Kururiyahhssi's smarts. If Wakko Ishara wants to walk out of this room unassisted, he will see the wisdom of this decision as well," she gave me a shark's smile. Daphne had surpassed her limit and punched Buffy."Hell ya, I agree," I exclaimed. "Now I know there will be certain times of the day when she isn't stalking me.""I'll work more pain into our limited schedule," Buffy grumbled."Are we sure he is the House Head and she is the Apprentice?" Yet another House Head joined the 'shit on me' train.It was telling of our group dynamic how we accepted the Pyramid of Pain. The underlings dispensed advice and violence as they felt necessary without their 'superior' getting pissy about it. Buffy felt totally justified hitting me and accepted being hit by Daphne, who continued to act unimpeded as Buffy's rapid-fire translator."If I was House Head, I'd handcuff him to me," Buffy clarified for her."What she said," I pointed a thumb Buffy's way. I'd have used a finger, but she might have grabbed, twisted and made me scream in pain."Perhaps the Council can vote on this as their second order of business," Saint Marie cloaked her command as a suggestion."Cáel Wakko Ishara, can I ask you a personal question?" Kohar of Marda caught my attention."Shoot, wait, probably not the best terminology in this crowd. Ask away," I replied."Have you faced a House challenge yet?""Yes. Just last night in fact. We free-climbed the north-face of Havenstone. I beat the next closest contender by three floors. I also had Princess Aya on the roof dropping bricks on anyone who attempted to get past me.""That means he isn't going to answer you," Beyoncé  interpreted for my audience."Can't you ever take these meetings seriously?" Febe Mielikki glowered."La, Febe, in the past few minutes I have watched the person I love most in the world get her life shat on," I shook my head."The only thing worse than seeing this happen to Aya is knowing this is her sole opportunity to not lose her soul, so I'm sucking up my heart's pain and putting forward a jester's persona so I don't put any more pressure on her than she's already been subjected to. Like me, she doesn't want the distinction of being a Person of Note.""Like me, she knows she must sacrifice her dreams for the sake of our People, the Amazon Host. Trust me, you would rather have 'me, the jester' than 'me, the Amazon' furious with the destiny that has foisted this pain on her'. Do any of you take responsibility for forcing the events of this morning?" I growled. If they wanted to see the other side of the Janus, so be it."Had you chosen a Regency in the fucking weeks you've been bickering, Kwenhamai could have been dealt with privately. The fate of the Royal House could have been put off a few years. Had you not all been so dead-set on being heroines of the Host, three of you would have sacrificed your bloodlust, your birthright and the future accolades you could recite on your final night (before taking themselves to the cliff), but none of you did.""Instead, you set the stage for dumping all of your indecisiveness on the slender shoulders of a nine year old girl most of you had written off as too fractured and frail to survive her 12th year only three months ago. So Febe how do you like the honest 'me'?" I finished off furiously.It was not lost on anyone in the chamber I was an Amazon raging against the cruelty of fate. Every other bitch in the room knew they had discarded my daughter's life as trivial and I was prepared to unleash violence on the next one to show an ounce of disrespect over Aya's surrendering of her destiny and my grief at failing to find a way to stop this from coming to pass. St Marie had just reminded them that I was 'reliably" successful despite my handicaps. Not an enemy anyone in the room wanted any part of. Saku would have been proud.A Note:I have been remiss in informing my readers of the names of the 53 Houses, even though I created it some time ago. I have made a few alterations to the original version as I've had to rethink certain parts of this tale, but here is the list I now use.List of Goddesses:The First Twenty Houses in no particular order :1) Ishara, Oaths, Medicine and War (to North America) (died out 450 CE; Reborn in 2014)2)   (Deceased) Anat, Goddess of War, Fury and Blood Sacrifice (died out 6th cent. BCE) ~ possibly resurrected by Sakunyias3) Anahit, water, wisdom and war (to North America)4) Arinniti, Sun Goddess (to North America)5) Hanwasuit, Sovereign Goddess6) Illuyankamunus, Dragon God (to North America) (Special Case)7) Inara, the Hunter Goddess8)  au ka, fertility, War, healing9) Kamrusepa, Healing medicine magic (to Africa)10) Lelwani, Goddess of the Underworld (to Africa)11) Hapantali, Pastoral Goddess.12) Hatepuna, Sea Goddess (to India)13) Hannahannah, Mother Goddess14) Moirai, Fate15) Selardi, Lunar Goddess (to Africa)16) Nammu, Primordial Sea, sailing, sailors (to India) (to Indonesia)17) Uttu, Goddess of plants (to Africa)18) Lahar, Cattle Goddess (to Africa)19) Ereshkigal, Queen of the underworld (to India)20) Istustaya and Papaya, Twin Goddesses of Destiny (to North America)Additional Houses, founded in Europe:(Code: Sc = Scythian; T = Thracian, P, Phrygian, C = Celtic, R = Roman, Sl = Slavic)21) (Sc) Marda, the One-Eyed Goddess/Vengeance {fantasy creation}22) (Sc) Farānak, A Scythian Goddess also known as the Lynx Goddess and the Silent Huntress (Dora)23) (Sc) Stolgos, Monstrous Slayer of Greeks (known to the Greeks as the Gorgon Stheno) {semi-historical}24) (T) Cotyttia, Thracian Goddess of Sex, War and Slaughter (to North America)25) (T) Bendis, Thracian Goddess of the Moon and Hunting.26) (T) Semele/Rajah, Thracian Goddess of the Earth and Birth (to India)27) (T) Hylonome, Centaur Goddess28) (P) Cybele, Phrygians Earth Goddess on Lion's throne (to the Amazon)29) (C) Andraste, War Goddess; also Goddess of the Moon and Divination; 'the Rabbit Goddess'30) (C) Epona, Horses (to North America)31) (C) Cyhiraeth, Goddess of springs whose war cry precedes death (to Africa)32) (C) Maeve, War Goddess, the Enslaver of Men33)   (Deceased) (C) Nantosuelta, Earth, Fire and Fertility (died out 1st cent. BCE)34) (C) Artio, the Bear Goddess (to North America)35) (C) Nemain, Goddess of War and Panic36) (R) Minerva, Roman Goddess of War & Strategy37)   (Deceased) (R) Diana, Hunting and Archery (died out in India 16th cent. CE)38) (Sl)  iva, Love and Fertility49) (Sl) Morė, Goddess of harvest, witchcraft, winter and death (to North America)40) (Sl) Zorja, The twin Guardians (Evening/Morning Stars)41)   (Sl) Oźwiena, fame and glory (died out in 1944)42)   (Sl) Koliada, Sky Goddess and deity of sunrises/dawn (died out 17th cent CE)43) (F) Mielikki, Goddess of the Hunt44) (N) Ska i, giantess, Goddess of bow-hunting, skiing, winter, and mountainsAdditional Houses, founded in In dia:45) (I) Mookambika, Demon Slayers46) (I) Bhadra, Goddess of the Hunt (to Indonesia)47) (I) Meenakshi, The Liberator (Rhada and Madi's House)48) (I) Durga (Dark Mother) (to Indonesia)49) (I) Chandala Bhikshuki, Queen of Night, Death, Destruction and Rebirth50) (I) Jaya (Goddess of Victory)51)   (I) Chelamma, the Scorpion Queen (died out 16th cent.)Additional Houses, founded in Africa:52) (A) Oshun, (Yoruba Goddess of Love, Sexuality, Beauty and Diplomacy; Lady of the Orisha ~ life spirits)53) (A) Yemonja, Mother of Rivers (to the Amazon)54) (A) Oba, Goddess of Betrayal and Exile55) (A) Ox ssi, Goddess of Hunting, Forests, Animals and Wealth56) (A) Jengu, Goddess of Jungles and Water SpiritsAdditional Houses: founded in North America(NT = Native Tribal)57) (NT) Uusheenhiton (noo'uusooo' heeninouhuusei hitoniho') (Arapaho), Storm Horse Sister {fantasy creation}58) (NT) Gahe, Apache (supernatural spirits who live in the mountains)Prospective House:59) New, (Hittite) SzelAnya, the Dragon's DaughterCurrent Number of Central Houses:12 in North America (9+Ishara from Europe and 2 native)10 in Africa (6 from Europe and 5 native)3 in Amazonia (1 from Africa and 2 from Europe)8 in India (3 from Europe and 7 native)3 in Indonesia (2 from India and 1 from Europe)17 in Europe6 Deceased{7:35 am Sunday, September 7th ~ Last day}Right where we left offMy rage over Aya wasn't called into question or challenged. Practicality had trumped tradition in the inevitable Amazon fashion. The only one elevated in anyone's eyes was Aya. Krasimira's apparent political adventurism was probably hard for the others to deal with. But in context, only Mahdi, Katrina and Saint Marie had seen her denounce Hayden, so this seemed a new side of Krasimira to most people in the room.Krasimira wasn't the spiritual authority, that was Hayden. She wasn't the Generalissimo, that was Saint Marie. Katrina and I were both appointed officials, we retained our House status. Saint Marie would die a member of House Inara and join her ancestors with pride. Her litany of accomplishments were well known to the Host.But Krasimira? She would die a member of House Cybele unheralded. The Keeper of Records recorded the feats of others, not their own. Nearly two generations ago, a young Krasimira had joined the Keeper's House as a guardian to an un-remembered (save by her) augur. The augur passed and she took up other duties within the house.When the old Keeper faced her final months, she elevated Krasimira to her spot. High Priestess Hayden had approved the choice without really knowing who Krasimira was. (No one outside the House of the Keeper had personal bonds with her anymore.) Seamlessly, she had sat in the old Keeper's seat and the Council kept chugging along.For the past eight years, she had sat quietly at Hayden's side and only speaking when addressed. Mostly, she did nothing overt. The actual note-taking was done by an underling. The Keeper took her own private notes squirreled away in her mind, to be written when she was by herself. Those notes would be handed over to her successor, for the Keepers' eyes and theirs alone.I don't think Krasimira knew me in particular when she dutifully followed Hayden into these chambers the day my death, or life in a cage, was bantered about. It was the day we first crossed paths. She would have known of Shawnee's request for the tooth of an Isharan, though she lacked the authority to ask why. (She wasn't a voting member of the Council.)But when Shawnee made her claim, Krasimira hadn't balked in her support, despite the oddity of Shawnee's declarations, I was indeed Ishara and my sisters could not dispose of me. The outrage of the others meant nothing to her. She pursued her obligations with true Amazon fearlessness both inside and outside of the Council.On the night of the 2nd Betrayal, a Keeper had sat there in silence as her fellow Amazons, the Ash Men, were sentenced to an unjust death. She'd had neither the numbers nor the authority to alter events, what else could she have done?So the Keepers kept track of the names of nineteen 'unaccounted for' Ash Men. For what purpose? An episode of Amazon history no one would ever want to revisit? Yet in my hour of need, coming back 2,600 years was the name 'Vranus of Ishara', sitting only a few keystrokes away. No one, save a few Arinniti diehards, wanted to know the truth of the Amazon Ash Men; and even they didn't want to remember us as individuals. To them, Vranus existed as a notation on the secret Charter of the Arinniti Sons.To Krasimira, Vranus had been a living, breathing warrior of the Host, not even dead, still mythically fighting the enemies of our race because his death had never been officially recorded. With my appearance, I stood in mute testimony to his death, and that of his sons and their sons for a damn long time.Still, I hated playing catch-up.With the Amazon custom of adoption, had no one asked if another possible Isharan heritage still persisted?I would bet they had. And I'd bet they had sought for that knowledge in the Rolls of the Host, always finding that pathway devoid of hope. But if the Keeper had known, why had she kept quiet?Pride, shame, Krasimira's words: we show anger when we should show humility. We are proud of our shame. We are arrogant of our weaknesses. We have heaped insult upon insult on our ancestors, yet are now aghast that they turn away from us, I had confused her soliloquy with that of an accusation, not the long held understanding of her office.Even staring extinction in face, the modern Host hadn't truly accepted the answer, the line of Vranus. Faced with the truth, the Amazons would have 'forgotten' the descendants of Vranus all those centuries ago in the same way they 'forgot' all the other Ash Men on the day I was brought into the Host.But the Keepers did something more than maintain the rolls and records of the Amazons, more than watch over the augurs and make sure their messages made it to the proper ears. They safeguarded the truth. No matter what the Council decided and the High Priestess commanded, the Keepers remained honest stewards of the real history of the Amazons.Why?The Amazons were terribly practical and the truth could run contrary to the needs of political reality. Honesty wasn't a highly stressed Amazon virtue, loyalty was. So was bravery. And thus generation after generation of Keepers had lied to the Council and the High Priestesses. Every time those august personages had committed something to 'the nothingness', the Keepers had defied them and not forgotten.The first heads of the first twenty houses had surrendered their names for the unity of their people, but the Keepers remembered. All twenty of those women had been of the Amazon tribe of the Pala people living on the southern coast of the Black Sea when the Trojan Wars began. Over time, their true blood descendants had founded new houses and been adopted into others.Aya was truly a daughter of Kururiyahhssi; I had no doubt of that anymore. Had she not shared the same blood as the first Amazon, Krasimira wouldn't have brought Aya and Kwen together. Resurrecting an ancient tradition in a complicated fallacious coup attempt wasn't in her; nor was such a maneuver even a necessity. The Host would elect a Regency eventually and Saint Marie was handling the war in a highly competent fashion.So Krasimira hadn't sought out the heirs of Vranus, yet when one appeared, she welcomed 'him'. And when she stepped into the President's office with Hayden while waiting for me to be brought upstairs to face judgement that night, I imagined sending Hayden to the cliffs was the farthest thing from her mind.The rest were playing politics, gender politics, and couldn't see the truth staring Krasimira in the face. The truth was a bitch and didn't play favorites, or worry about the sensibilities of others. Krasimira had seen her sisters refusing to acknowledge the ugly reality they had created for themselves.Krasimira wasn't an advocate for Ishara, that was my job, and my crappy performance was something between Dot and me. She wasn't an advocate for the males and the New Directive. That was what Katrina was for. No, like a hundred Keepers before her, Krasimira was the silent sentinel for the Truth and, the Truth didn't care about anything but the Truth."The assassin is indeed in this room. Its name is Amazon was a rather grand pronouncement from the Chief Librarian, wasn't it? Krasimira didn't chastise Hayden. That wasn't her place. Technically, neither was she disputing Hayden's ability to rule.This wasn't the climax of a dinner-theater 'Who Done It'. The crime before the High Priestess was High Treason and I was the pre-ordained guilty party. My 'ally', Katrina Epona, had not been an advocate for my defense. No. Again in my Hour of Need it was Krasimira.Lacking any true authority, she had defied her sisters and made her definitive statement. What truly transpired was Krasimira staring Hayden straight in the eyes and saying 'you cannot lie your way out of this one, High Priestess. We (as in all the Keepers past and present) will not let you'.Had she used those words, Saint Marie would have gotten around to asking what Krasimira meant. Krasimira would have rather died, because once those bitches discovered their nerdy sisters hadn't erased a damn thing in 3,000 years, they would insist they do so immediately. Krasimira wasn't about to do that. Thanks to the chaos surrounding Hayden's departure, no one had confronted her over her crucial action.To put it more precisely, the Golden Mare had been too busy and Mahdi had been wrapped up in Hayden's Decree and the resulting pressure on the Heads of House to pick the Regency. Katrina was probably a case of I'm not going to ask you so you don't have to lie to me. The only other living person in the room when Hayden's fate was sealed was me, and I'd had my hands full as well.I had to think about what I should and could do. I couldn't beat her up over Aya anymore than I could punish my Isharans for their misplaced arrogance. I decided to extend a 'thank you'; and not only for myself, but for every conceited bitch who had ever sat at this table, or all the other physical mediums the Council had used before this one.We held three votes: The Council couldn't collectively decide on how to implement Aya's other likes (1), so they agreed on her suggestion for a Regency instead (2). The final vote was to set a date for the next Council meeting (3). A date within 9 days of the Winter Solstice with the Regency to decide the precise date and give the House Heads two weeks warning.The last calamity at the meeting was initiated by a question of etiquette."How do we address the Princess at Council meetings?" the Head of House Hanwasuit inquired of Krasimira."There is no precedent for addressing the Iwaruwa alone. By our laws, she is not truly Dumalugal Aya either. She is Nasusara," Krasimira responded. Queen."She is a child," a third House Head declared, "not an Amazon.""No," Mahdi shook her head. "A, Aya is 'un-casted'. She bears an honorific presented to her by the leader of an established stronghold (Summer Camp) and confirmed by the Golden Mare minutes ago.""Congratulations my mamētu me eda," I winked to my past and present Princess, "you've just become a single-digit aged teenager.""Go Aya," Daphne and Buffy whispered behind me. Aya raised her hand, waiting for Saint Marie's recognition.However, Saint Marie moved steadily forward, declaring: "Until the Regency alters my decision, I decline assigning anyone to the Iwaruwa (heiress) whose sole purpose would be to stop her from sneaking off to endure her 12th Year Test. I judge it to be better we know where we placed her as opposed to failing to outsmart her as she needlessly proves to the Host she is, in fact, already an Amazon of the Host." Aya lowered her hand.Thus,'Yes, Aya is an Amazon of the Host' and 'Aya will take her 12th Year Test because she wants to take it, won't let us talk her out of taking it and the rest of us had better accept it'."So, she is our Queen then?"No one appeared to have an answer. Aya raised her hand once more."Yes?" the Golden Mare smiled down at her."Am I in charge?" Aya's other hand squeezed Saint Marie's as she spoke in a barely audible voice."Perhaps.""If I was in charge, I would like it if there was a law that declared the Queen of the Amazons would be officially represented by a Regency until she becomes casted, and antedate the law by one hour so this never, ever comes up again," Aya kept looking up at Saint Marie."Aya," Katrina exhaled.The council chamber was a mixture of awe, resentment and amusement. If Aya was Queen, she could make such a law. The Queen-ship was a Bronze Age autocratic institution designed to provide leadership to a 'state' in near-constant warfare with is neighbors.It was guided by oral traditions and military necessity, not written laws. As long as the queens provided successes on the battlefield and through diplomacy, she was deemed fit to rule. The traditional way of choosing a House Head was the same for the Royal House, the ruling Queen chose an heir.In the long list of Queens, less than half had been the 'eldest' child. No, those ancient War Leaders picked the bravest, smartest and most successful daughters to succeed them. Their wisdom in those selections showed in the fact the Amazons had held off a male-dominated world for over 600 years before fatally marching off to answer an ally's call to fight in the Trojan War."I advise against it," Saint Marie shook her head. "You are young. You are also the only Royal we have. Duty demands and sisters must always answer their sister's call."Translation: Aya was an adult now. It was similar to the first lesson Pamela gave me upon learning I was Ishara. We lived with bitches, it doesn't pay to play nice with bitches."Thank you," Aya nodded. She was 'thanking' Saint Marie for the lesson, no matter how hard it was to accept. Krasimira coughed."Now that the matter is settled," she spoke. The matter wasn't settled. Krasimira was steamrollering the discussion. "What do we call you?", to Aya."I, oh," in a very small voice. Aya's brow furrowed and her tiny nose wiggled. "I wish to be known by the legacy of my Anna (mother) and Atta (me, Cáel). I will be Assiyai hamai.""Love song?" Daphne murmured to Buffy."Assiyai hamai?" Krasimira asked for clarification. 'Love-song' was hardly the name of a 'fierce' Amazon Queen."The only other name I could come up with was Markappidusmene, which seemed less auspicious," she meeped. Markappidusmene meant 'Tiny Smile'."Perhaps Talliyahulla would be more auspicious?" Saint Marie nudged Aya. 'War Cry'."Oh no!" Aya balked. "That's your job.""What do you think your job is?" the Golden Mare questioned, suddenly realizing she'd made the mistake of making assumptions where Aya was concerned."To go to the cliffs with twice as many Amazon daughters, each equal to the likes of Saint Marie, Katrina, Oneida, Buffy, Elsa, Kohar and Tad fi as exist today. We must not 'survive', or simply replenish our numbers."We must become stronger because the World is a terribly messed up place," she raised her wounded hand and splayed her digits for the others to see the two she was missing, "and has become too small for us to seek safety in hidden freeholds any longer. If we cannot hide, we must rule openly. We are Amazons. Having no equals, we must rule alone. The only people we can trust, really trust, are the sisters at our sides."My job is to advance my People's cause with both compassion and cruelty and I will do so alone, because the Amazon Queen has no equals, only daughters."Not a sound. I could count out the individual fan blades recycling the air."Let our enemies tremble," Saint Marie nodded, repeating an earlier declaration."Assiyai hamai," Krasimira intoned, making Aya's royal name official before adding, "Assiyai hamai, you are mistaken about one thing. You are not alone. You have a mamētu me eda.""Oh," she perked up, shedding the gloom which surrounded her. She looked at me, our eyes met and we both grinned, then she giggled...and yet again, up her hand went."Yes?" Saint Marie looked upon Aya respectfully and then at me with much suspicion."Is the mamētu me eda of my mamētu me eda also my mamētu me eda?" Aya asked.Just like old times, only Katrina was ahead of the game. "Oh, by Epona," the Spy-mistress snorted."Cáel Wakko Ishara, who is your mamētu me eda, oh no," Saint Marie bristled."Ah, indeed," Krasimira nodded. "An unlooked for bonus.""Does someone care to enlighten the rest of us?" the head of House Nemain prodded."Oh!" That was Elsa."That's right!" Oneida, she was definitely a fan of me and my spasmodic lifestyle."Wakko Ishara's mamētu me eda, other mamētu me eda, is Temujin, Great Khan of the Reborn Mongol-Turkish Khanate and ally of the Host," Saint Marie let them know. "They are bonded by Cáel risking his own life to save Temujin's. It is actually a privately understood and publically declared fact.""In Temujin's words to the international press when our Cáel and our new Queen were kidnapped : I believe Cáel is still alive. If he wasn't, we would be seeing piles upon piles of dead enemy around him and his 'boon companion', clearly visible from orbit. Until they discover this carnal pit from Hell, I am sure they are both still alive," Oneida added. Rhada flashed ill-distilled hate her way."Shawnee, is your Apprentice's mind addled with the birthing hormones of their child?" Mahdi snipped. That was merely a cultural zing, not an attempt to expose my sinister erotic misdoings. Unfortunately, she was somewhat correct. Okay, she was totally correct."That was uncalled for," Shawnee graciously chided Mahdi, thus demonstrating her ignorance of the facts soon to be in evidence."Yes, I am carrying a child of Arinniti and Ishara," Oneida proclaimed loud and proud. "We share a Warrior's Love."I wasn't really sure how anyone else reacted to the news because House Ishara exploded into violence. That is the politic way of saying Daphne and Juanita were trying to stop Buffy from beating me to death. Here was yet another Ishara-baby and it wasn't gestating inside her. I was too stunned to defend myself.And the old refrain: 'and then it got worse'."Ta  ah kattanda!" (IN HITTITE for 'you pig's ass'), Rhada howled. I missed her drawing her blade, vaulting to the top of the table and lunging at Oneida. Most of the Amazons in the room stood, yet held their ground.They weren't shocked into indecisiveness, only trying to understand the nature of the conflict before intervening. This was not the first 'your Amazon did something my Amazon found infuriating' public threat they had to have dealt with. Rhada was more volatile than the average woman of her breed and station, true, but a violent in-chamber assault?That wasn't the 'worse' though. Oneida drawing her blade in an open challenge to Rhada wasn't the worse either, nor was her shouting."He loves me! He merely saved you!"Saint Marie yelling 'Ishara! Ishara!' over and over again, demanding I put my house back in order wasn't the end of my woes, nope.Me being yanked free of my House fur-ball into the volcanic gaze of Elsa as she seethed, "Rhada?" Oh yeah, Elsa's people and Rhada's people had a bit of a blood feud going on, how could I have forgotten that?But wait!"Not Fabiola!" gasped Messina, bizarrely assuming I slept with, okay, not such a huge assumption."Gael?" voiced by the Head of House Bendis, followed by Gael's "I'm late.""Damn it!" I pulled away from Elsa (slightly)."No. She only lets me ejaculate on 'safe days'," to Messina, Fabiola's Mom."Oh, come on! We had sex one time!" to Gael of Bendis, and finally,"Stop it!" to Rhada and Oneida, (deep breathe). "Really?" with my most believable happy face plastered on. "This is great news!"No. No it wasn't, and I could read the ugly emotional undercurrents on the faces of everyone present, except Aya, who kept the faith."Ishara," Saint Marie rumbled. I held up one finger to forestall her wrath."Oneida, Rhada and I have already decided to name our daughter Parvati. My daughter by Tad fi, ordained by the Goddess to be the first born, will be named Shala while my first son will be called Harki heni (White Hair, I'd call him Raider when we were in the 'outside' world).""My daughter by Miyako Yuri will be named Suwais-urāni, Fushichou in her Mother's tongue, in honor of Sakuniyas. My, other relationships," I would have liked to say 'none of your business', except Amazon mothers, or not, those children would be of Ishara's blood and potentially their kin.

On this episode, we dig into the haunting story of a young Cambodian-American grappling with unexplained paranormal activity in their Minnesota home. After a childhood riddled with near-death experiences, their new bedroom becomes the epicenter of terrifying encounters: scratching at the windows, violent movements, and a chilling voice commanding them to keep their eyes closed.  But the story doesn't end when they leave the room. As the haunting seems to follow them, unanswered questions linger.  Was this the result of early-life trauma, or was something darker at play? Join us as we unravel a tale of psychological and supernatural suspense, leaving you questioning what really lurks in the shadows.

On this episode, we dig into the haunting story of a young Cambodian-American grappling with unexplained paranormal activity in their Minnesota home. After a childhood riddled with near-death experiences, their new bedroom becomes the epicenter of terrifying encounters: scratching at the windows, violent movements, and a chilling voice commanding them to keep their eyes closed.  But the story doesn't end when they leave the room. As the haunting seems to follow them, unanswered questions linger.  Was this the result of early-life trauma, or was something darker at play? Join us as we unravel a tale of psychological and supernatural suspense, leaving you questioning what really lurks in the shadows.

Crashing Lightening and Rolling Thunder. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “You will never appreciate having to follow a difficult order until you have to give one.” (Late, late Saturday Night) Had I been alone? There are few perks to a solitary lifestyle. One of the few is the freedom from others; and by that I mean you don't have to decide if you care about people you don't know. You are free. Your emotions are free, your decisions are free and your time is your own. Selfish in the best way. Libra took my keys after we arrived at my apartment building and raced ahead to make sure that Timothy and Odette, if either was awake, would be forewarned. Casper clung to me as she always did. Estere took the lead since I also had to do pack mule duty. Brooke carried the few things that were beyond me. The rain was turning from a drizzle to a downpour. Odette had a friend over; a female acquaintance. Timothy; Timothy was in the middle of a very successful date night. Now I had the joy of being an auditory spectator in my domicile's sexcapades. "Shouldn't she be taken to a clinic, or something?" the friend blurted out. I didn't know her enough to decide if she was nervous, flippant, or secretly cruel. Casper dug in tighter. I had to dump the luggage to deal with her heightened anxiety. Libra, Brooke and Odette picked up the slack while Estere soaked in the ambiance of my dwelling. The look she gave me was one of amusement and intrigue. This was hardly the lair of the one and only Amazon Prince. It was sublime and comfortable. It had a nomadic quality she found familiar. Being in a fortress has its comforts. Being in someone else's fortress is far less comfortable. Estere was quietly accounting for every knife, mallet, or other potentially fatal piece of housewares. Brooke, Libra and Odette were already ordering and organizing my life ;  what did they need to get and how would they get it? "So; you are Odette's; friend," the unknown woman stated. Snapping at her was unduly unfair to Odette, who put up with mountains of my insane lifestyle. "Yeah, that's me. Cáel Nyilas; self-made troublemaker," I confessed. "You?" "Delilah," she answered. "What happened to her?" Casper flinched. "Nothing that being reminded about what a wonderful friend she is won't help heal," I cautiously responded. "She is hanging out with me and some friends for the weekend." "Cut it out, Delilah," Odette sighed. "Who are you really, anyway?" Delilah was smooth, I had to give her that. "Odette, what do you mean?" Delilah stood up. "Delilah, or whoever you are, I'm not such a wonderful person that people I've known two days come home with me," Odette lectured. "Now, I kept you here until you could meet Cáel, so why don't you return my courtesy and tell us what's going on?" Odette was keeping Libra and Brooke in my room thus out of play. Timothy climaxed. Good for him. Out in the living room, Delilah made a stutter step. She was frozen by Estere's silenced weapon pointed at her. "You were spotted by a rank amateur," the Hashashin noted. "Who are you with?" "You people are nuts," Delilah flushed with panic. Nice touch, but that panic didn't reach her cold, calculating eyes. "Damn Delilah," Odette shook her head. "You need to watch more television. BBC America has this nice drama called Orphan Black where the exact same thing happened. I knew you were lying to me in twenty minutes. I was nice enough to not bring the Death Squad across the street over to deal with you. They wouldn't have cared whether I was being paranoid or whatever. They would have dragged you out and killed you on general principle. You owe me." "I don't know what's wrong;” Delilah got out. There was a rapid knocking at the door. Shielding Casper behind me, I backed up in that direction. "Last chance," Odette looked at Delilah sternly. "That's the Death Squad." Sure enough, I checked and it was two Amazons in full gear. I opened up and the two edged in around me. "Ishara; status please," the leader asked. "Estere Abed is a diplomat for her Protocol faction, there should be records of Brooke and Libra on file and Odette belongs here. Casper is behind me; special case. That woman," I motioned to Delilah, "is of unknown origin." "Miss, lay down on the floor, on your stomach; arms out to your sides," the leader brought her UP-40 up, aimed at Delilah. "This is insane," Delilah sounded really frantic. Not in the eyes though. "Lie down, or three rounds in the chest," the Amazon team leader related calmly. "Last chance." Delilah decided that she wasn't cut from a fanatic's cloth. She went down like a pro. The two Amazons closed in. I spotted the third of the four woman team at my door, keeping watch. The two inside efficiently bound her hands behind her back and patted her down for weapons; none. "She is in violation of the truce," the leader pointed out. "Should I dispatch her now?" "Wait!" Delilah squawked. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on him and protect him, not hurt him. Fuck, don't kill me for this." "Who are you working for?" Estere came closer. Delilah hesitated so both Estere and the number two Amazon drew their knives. "Fine! Fine. All I have is a name and I'm only supposed to tell him," she pleaded. There was a moment of uncertainty. "She'll tell us," Estere knelt beside Delilah. Now Delilah's panic was real. "Wait," I stated. I motioned Brooke and Libra to move around the crowded room and comfort Casper. "Well," I sighed as I went on my hands and knees beside Delilah's head. The Amazon leader had her hand on the woman's head, pressed tightly to the ground. "Sibeal," Delilah whispered. Mom. "Do you have any way of contacting this person?" I asked. "No. It is not how I work," she said and finally I caught it. The accent. I looked to the leader. "Look at her hands and tell me what you see," I asked the Amazon. I went back to resting on my knees. "Hard; callused from repetitive weapons practice. Short nails. She's very fit," the Team Lead kept up the examination. "I apologize Ishara. She's a soldier." "Let her go," I commanded. The Amazon only paused for a moment before cutting her bonds. Delilah moved cautiously as she moved to a cross-legged position. "You don't have to answer me, but I'd appreciate some honesty. You're English. Would that make you MI-5, or MI-6?" It wasn't as huge a leap as it looked. Who could Mom trust? In this case, a government operative would actually be safer for her and she had to have decades of Illuminati information inside her head. Delilah had one reason to be honest; her mission. "MI-5 is counter-intelligence," Delilah grinned as her British accent came out to play. "M I 6. S I S is foreign intelligence. I'll let you figure it out." "Good enough," I stood then helped her stand as well. "You can stay; starting Monday. I need a break, okay?" Delilah nodded. "Deal. Now do me the courtesy of telling me why I'm here?" she asked. "Love. Deep, abiding love," I looked right into her soul. Crisis averted. Delilah 'agreed' to go with my guardians to 'work things out'. Delilah was curious as to why they called Cáel Nyilas; Ishara. She also congratulated Odette on figuring something was up. Odette told her not to feel bad about it; reference all the psycho bitches that showed up in my life. Brooke headed out to gather some more belongings for herself and Libra because; my vote not even elicited; they were going to hang close to Casper and I for a few more days. Libra and Estere headed out to that authentic Italian pizza joint I'd taken Libra to earlier since my food stockpile was abysmal and the neighborhood was far from safe this late at night. Odette took Casper to my bedroom so that Casper could talk with her parents in Delaware. Timothy and his date emerged from his room. It was Sovann Mean, who I had met before and gotten along with. It took me all of two seconds to figure out what had happened. Sovann had asked Timothy out because Timothy never thought Sovann was interested in him. Sovann was a second generation Cambodian-American and had this stoic demeanor he raised up whenever he was nervous, ensuring Timothy's confusion. "Hey Cáel," Sovann smiled at me. "Still being good?" That was code for me being 'straight'. It still weirded me out a bit; Sovann was a serious weightlifter, like Timothy and I, but a head shorter, so he looked stockier than he really was. When he smiled, his whole face lit up too. It was the Khmer 'twang' that always sounded out of place to me. "We will not discuss the number of women who were here mere moments ago," I joked wearily. "Timothy, I apologize for coming back early; shithead-intervention shut things down in the Hamptons." "No problem, Bro," Timothy came and gave me a man-hug. "With your newfound wealth, we may need to convert the sofa to a sleeper-sofa," Timothy semi-joked. "Oh yeah, and that girl down the hall; when I told her your father died, she baked you some cookies. They're in a tin by the toaster. They really are pretty good, too; walnut and caramel chip." That sounded tasty. I guessed that meant I finally had to meet the women. Sovann came up and fist-bumped me as Timothy went for the refrigerator. The doorbell rang. I wondered who had forgotten what as I swung the door open. Lighting exploded outdoors, our lights flickered and thunder shook the apartment. It was Uncle Carrig. As the old song said 'he looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone'. His eyes wore a harried, feral look. His bellow, as he charged, rolled over me like the amplified heartbeat of a hellish primate. I had no time before he was on me. Down we went. I tried to push him off of me. His suit was soaked with rain and blood, some of it had to be his own. In his right hand he held a dull aluminum cylinder with a metallic suction cup on the bottom. Sovann kicked Uncle Lumpy in the side of the head. Inflicted on a normal man, that would have driven him off me. Lumpy released his hold on my shoulder and backhanded Sovann. The Cambodian went flying in the direction of the sofa despite getting a leg block up. I had a flash of Timothy going for his home deterrent system, aka the crowbar. Odette began yelling. The cylinder was coming down. Carrig's left grabbed my chin, fixing my head in place. I opted to use both my arms to stop his right, and the device, from coming down. I bought a little time. Timothy's blow came down on Lumpy's left shoulder, weakening the hold, but not enough. The device slammed into my forehead. I felt a burning pain as a portion of the flesh beneath the cup was flash-fried away. More pain, then a little pressure and finally nothing. In those seconds before my mind spun out of control, I had the oddest sensation there was something inside my brain. Searing agony; existence lost all meaning and I was gone. (One week later) They say pain in the brain is illusionary. Of all your nerve cells, only a tiny fraction are devoted to pain. The rest do the important work of keeping your body functioning. The brain is on top of it all and it has better things to do that register pain; or so I was told. To be somewhat fair, what I felt wasn't exactly pain. It was the sensation that something was crawling around inside my psyche, doing something. Sharp, tingling jolts shocked my body parts at regular intervals. Painful in their own way, yet not so much I couldn't concentrate. I opened my eyes. The lights in my room had been dimmed, but not enough that I couldn't see the six ladies standing about; doing nothing. I recognized my present lodgings as Havenstone Post-classical Modernism (total lie; I'm not an interior designer). The six ladies turned, looked at me, then closed in slowly. A staring contest was in the offing when two people entered the room from the door at the foot of the bed. It then occurred to me that little sonic indicators on the machinery surrounding me were chirping loudly. One woman was a physician's assistant I knew from an earlier bout at Havenstone Medical. She had performed CPR on me. The other woman; she was the senior-most recruit from my father's graveside service. She looked positively grim. My dry throat requested some water then I attempted to rise. A problem instantly revealed itself. I was strapped down on my bed. The ankles, wrists and a neck/head brace kept my movements to a minimum. There was a side benefit to this imprisonment. That body-wide jolts? My body was wired up to a system that had needles piercing my muscle clusters. Amazons prided themselves on being physically fit and their tolerance for pain. My muscles hadn't atrophied during my; coma and the price was this constant, low-level pain. I still wasn't sure that was the reason I was bound. The PA maneuvered a plastic bottle with a spout to my lips and gave me a brief squirt. A few seconds later I got another and then a third. "Okay," I rasped. "What's going on?" "You have been in an unresponsive state for 7 days, Ishara," the 'senior' told me. "Why are you here?" I coughed. "I mean, why aren't you on the job?" She blinked. "Your life was imperiled so we decided that five of us would be around to monitor you and keep you safe," she answered. "What's with everyone else?" I huffed. The two looked at me. The quiet six were of no help. "Fine, what are you ladies doing here?" I asked the women originally in the room. No answer. "Ishara?" the PA worried. That was when it dawned on me that the two and the six weren't interacting on any level. "How many people are in the room?" I asked my housemate. She paused. "There are three of us, Ishara. You, me and the attendant," she answered. "How many people do you see?" "Well shit," I muttered. Then the first of the six spoke to me. Actually, she mouthed to me. It took me a moment to realize she was giving me her name. The next one started. "Device," I snapped to the 'senior'. As she hesitantly reached for hers, I began rattling off the names. When the sixth one gave me her name, the group dissipated into the ether. "Who are these women?" 'senior' requested. "Find out," I sighed then, "It is important." She nodded. Now that the specters were gone, the mortals began to come in. Right off the bat, I was confirmed in my status as "prisoner". They wouldn't free me when I requested it and they made no attempt to conceal their hostility to my fellow Isharan. The agenda was decided without me; they were going to check me out mentally, then I was off to see Hayden. Why was I imprisoned? My brain was a maelstrom of activity across a broad spectrum of regions and lobes. What had happened? They didn't know. The suction cup had stabilized the tube which was really a firing mechanism. When the device was able to detect and aim for a specific part of my brain, the longitudinal fissure, it shot a rod three-quarters into my cranium. A laser had burned through the skin and skull with surgeon-like precision so a barb of unknown construction could go deep into my brain. Then it 'detonated'. That was one of the problems the medicos of Havenstone were facing. The device had been so badly damaged when it unleashed its energy that they could no longer divine its function. What they did understand was that while my neural network was going super-nova, it wasn't killing me. They leapt on the idea of mind control. That theory sounded pretty lame to me, but I was the one tied down, with one ally in a room full of people bred to mistrust all males. The next approach; was I sane? The PA offered that I was seeing phantasms. 'Wait'. "Go," I directed the senior. "Take care of the business I have given you then tell Buffy and Helena what you've found out. You are wasting your time staying here." She nodded and left. It was more "common sense" rather than any sense of my leadership that made her leave. But that done; I concentrated on the entirety of the message so that it settled upon my soul. I relaxed, shut my eyes and let the world float by. It took them a minute to notice my noncompliance; any positive contribution on my part had slipped so far down in their expectations. "Ishara?" one of the SD chicks inquired. I opened one eye, then shut it. There was nothing to be done. "What is he doing?" that Amazon asked a physician. She, in turn asked me. I took a deep, cleansing breath and continued to ignore them. "There is nothing wrong with him," the physician noted. "He is being childish." That went beyond disrespectful. As a quirk of Amazon society, they had left me my knife strapped to my arm. To take it would have been an insult my tiny house could not have borne; essentially declaring me incompetent. I was heading that way, but not yet. That didn't stop them from deriding me until a lull finally developed. For a moment, I thought I was alone. I was intrigued by the words suddenly aimed my way. "Mr. Nyilas?" an unknown female inquired. I opened an eye. Woman; bad suit; and a badge. What the fuck? I was in Havenstone. "Special Agent Virginia Maddox with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'd like to ask you a few questions," she began. "Okay," I cleared my throat, "as long as we are clear I am one misstep away from invoking my Miranda Rights." She worked that one over for a second. "Do you know why your uncle attacked you?" "Honestly, I'm curious as to why I'm still alive," I tried to shrug. "Carrig and I never got along, if you consider when I first met him we fought and the second time he stabbed me in the forehead," I explained. "How long did you and your uncle fight; the second time?" she asked. "Um; six second," I guessed. "How is Lumpy doing, anyway?" "Lumpy?" "Uncle Carrig." "He's dead." "Seriously; fuck. What killed him?" "We are working that out. He was beaten, stabbed; by three different blades, shot 67 times by five different firearms, only two which we have recovered," Virginia stated. "We also think he was hit by two cars, one dump truck and a subway." "Well; yeah; Uncle Carrig was looking a bit rough when I answered the door," I confessed. Lumpy had to have been on a freaking quest to go through all that to get to me. Subway? He was hit by a subway and walked away. Most people barely leave a recognizable corpse. "How are Odette, Timothy, Casper and Sovann?" I recalled. She looked at her phone. "They are mostly fine. Casper Winslow was taken to the hospital in shock and was released to her parents," she said. "The other three were taken to the Emergency Room, treated for minor injuries and released," Virginia informed me. "The other four women were a more delicate manner." "Four women? Could you be more specific?" "Your bodyguards." "Could you be more specific?" "For a person with supposedly limited financial means, a lower income lifestyle and a humble background, you appear to have a small army hovering around you, high society friends, and lawyers who are on a first name basis with Supreme Court Justices," Virginia noted. "Lady, half-way through Day Two on this job, I almost gave it all up and biked my ass down to Terra del Fuego to live the sane life of a paranoid recluse," I sighed. "Why didn't you?" "Cause I'm an idiot. I was hoping a crackerjack investigator like you would have figured this out by now," I grinned. "How do you know I'm any good at my job?" she sent a sultry lip twist my way. Yes; pinned to a bed I could still attract the ladies. Having hundreds of little needles in me made the prospects for a quick sexual romp unlikely. "Javiera chose you for this assignment," I told her. "You have to be a woman because this is Havenstone and you have to be clever because this is a lunatic asylum." "Touché," she acknowledged my above average mental status. Next came a list of names. It took me a few seconds to focus on them. "Oh, what happened to them?" I inquired. "What makes you think anything happened to these people?" she parried. "Oh, I'm betting Javiera gave you a list of names and there is only person left alive out of that group," I felt introspective. "I wonder where Anima is hiding." "What happened to those people?" she persisted. "I don't know. I've been napping for the past week, but I'm betting they all met nasty ends," I told her. "Why were these people murdered?" "Were they murdered, or are they merely deceased? See, if I give you my opinion, you will have to pursue that line of inquiry which will only hurt one person who has already been hurt enough and save somebody who shouldn't be saved," I explained. "Why do you get to determine who gets saved?" Virginia pressed. "As opposed to who? You and Javiera? That's laughable. Why don't you go down the net worth of the families of those unfortunate corpses, then tell me how balanced your justice system would be? Please understand, I don't hold you and your profession in contempt," I met her hardening gaze. "To prove to me that I'm wrong, all you have to do is honestly tell me that high-priced lawyers, legions of specialists that confuse juries and enormous bank accounts to keep the appeals going indefinitely while the guilty roam about on bail equates to the legal process working fairly and impartially," I reposted. "That's not the same thing as;” she got out before the door opened and several people traipsed in, including three SD personnel. Last came Troika and she was coldly furious. "I was promised more time with Mr. Nyilas," Virginia protested. She was ignored. "Ishara, you are coming with us," Troika snapped. To be fair, the medical attendant wasn't overly torturous as she pulled out the muscle stimulatory aids and applied the bandages. It still sucked. That was ameliorated somewhat by the read I was getting of Troika. I waited for the last restraint to be removed before speaking. "I refuse to go with you," I stated firmly even as I sat up. See, I needed something to happen that was beyond my ability to obtain. "Take him," Troika directed two of the SD babes. My captors had gone out of their way to make sure these Amazons weren't ladies I knew. "Stop," I declared with authorities. "You cannot touch me against my will as that violates Hayden's ban on me entering blood feuds and wrangling me anywhere against my will constitutes a blood feud in Ishara's eyes." "It is Hayden's order," Troika snapped. "Has she lifted the ban? If not, these ladies will be breaking Hayden's decree." Troika harrumphed then gave Hayden a call. For the purpose of this meeting, the ban was lifted. That was what I needed so off I went. I waited until we got in the elevator and were heading up before launching my strike. Pamela would have been so proud. If Troika had given me an ounce of dignity, I couldn't have pulled it off. As it was, the first stab took her just under the left eye, the second punched through her cheek and spitted her tongue. The third nearly severed her upper lip and then the SD were on me. "Blood Feud!" I screamed. "You stole from me!" Troika was about to come back at me, knife in hand. One of the SD got in the way. What I had done was illegal; blood feuds needed to be approved; except for one tidbit of law Pamela taught me and it was about to come into play. "You cannot wound him while he is in our custody, Troika of Šauška," the Amazon protested. Troika gargled something through the ruin of the left side of her face. "I will peel off a meter of your flesh for this insult," she managed to oozingly communicate before we reached the top floor. For my part; "Unhand me." They didn't. "Unhand me, or am I no longer Head of House Ishara." "Do not attack her," the SD leader stated. "Would you care to explain to me why you are giving me that order?" I mused. "Please, Ishara," the woman ground out. "Do not attack Troika of House Šauška." "Very well. I pledge that from this point until the end of this meeting, I will only act against Troika in my own defense," I promised. "Now give me your sidearm." "You may not bear a weapon in Hayden's presence," the SD leader reminded me. "I asked for your weapon, not your legal advice," I insisted. Another shot of bigotry. "I will not. You are not acting rationally," she stated. Troika snorted. That was okay, because I saw an excellent substitute close by. My deviation from the group was so casual, they barely noticed. I wasn't making a fast break to nowhere. I walked up to the wall and, Vranus be praised, yanked one of a pair of matching battle axes off the wall. Support studs went flying. Like all weapons in Havenstone, this one was real. The SD closed ranks, boxing me in. "You may not bear a weapon in Hayden's presence," the SD leader was at the end of her patience with me. "You are incorrect," I glowered. "There are two occasions I may bear a weapon in proximity to the High Priestess. One is in defense of her person. I am not here to defend her." Harder than any kick to the head; they paled then the anger set in. "How dare you?" the SD leader seethed. "The proof of the necessity of my action stands before me right now; an Amazon defying a House, a First Ancestor and a Goddess on her own initiative and in defiance of everything her ancestors fought, bled and died for," I glared. "Give me the axe," the leader insisted. "No. You will have to fight me for it," I made my stand. She was about to do just that when one of the others spoke. Tears were slowly eking a way down that one's cheeks. "Step away from Ishara, or I will kill you," she told her leader. "You are wrong and Ishara is right though it sickens me to admit it." To add to the macabre, one SD trooper aimed at my 'savior' and the fourth aimed at the third. Civil war. "You know what he plans to do," the leader stated. "It is not our place," the second Amazon insisted. "I cannot face my ancestors letting this abomination pass." "He is the abomination," the leader persisted. "No. The abomination is any full-blooded not of the Council deciding what the Council will and will not do. We now know there were once male Amazons. By the will of our ancestors it was so. Never before have we, the elite of the Host, acted as if we knew better than they," the second Amazon said with righteous conviction. "Go," the leader mumbled softly. The woman on the verge of killing her was most likely a close and trusted friend. Grappling with that sudden rift between sisters was occupying her mind at that moment, not my escape. I moved around her, keeping out of the line of fire as best I could and went with Troika to Hayden's portal. I didn't thank the woman. That would have been insulting because what she did, she did for her people and the hundred thousand that had come before her. Finally we rolled out the Old Kingdom Hittite/Amazon. "See what you have done," Troika hissed. I didn't bother to reply. I was sure, dressed in light green scrubs, I cut a valiant and imposing figure. "Cáel Ishara, what took you so;” and then Hayden saw it. For a second, Saint Marie almost cut me off. Katrina stood up. She wanted to stop me. In her mind, Hayden was one of our allies, but, as I had told her, she (Katrina) didn't get it either. Madi, Beyoncé, Fatima and Krasimira were also present and now highly disturbed. "Take yourself to the cliffs," I announced clearly as I dropped the axe on Hayden's desk. She had stood at my final approach and bore hate my way. "The Goddess Ishara rejects you and has taken herself from the Temple. House Ishara has lost faith in you. Your insults are lengthy and I do not feel like wasting any more time with you." "How dare you?" Hayden spat. "All the times I have shielded you and this is how you repay me? You were a mistake from the beginning." "A mistake we can rectify right now," Fatima snarled. She rose up and drew her knife. "Excuse me, but didn't we gather here for a different purpose?" Krasimira mused softly. "Kill him and end the curse," Madi growled. "Oh; in that case can you kill me first?" Krasimira sighed. "I see no need to postpone the continuation of my chat with my mother." At Krasimira's age, her mother was most likely dead. "Krasimira, you cannot defend him!" Fatima wailed. "Defend him? I am not standing in your way, Fatima. I do know that the statue of Ishara fractured and fell into two pieces in the Temple," she related; certainly retelling information they already had. "House by house, we see nothing but the back of those who fought before us. Five of my augurs had shorn their hair and thrown themselves into the fire. I can do nothing except report what I have witnessed. I cannot appeal to Ishara to lift her curse. I hope one of you can because if you can't and you kill her CLEARLY designated heir we shall all go down to ignoble ends," the Keeper of Records remained serenely poised as she delivered her doom-laden news. "By the way, Troika, what happened to your face?" "He stabbed me," Troika burbled. "Let me kill the bastard." I half-turned. Saint Marie interposed herself between the two of us. "Cáel, lift the curse," Saint Marie demanded. "Lift your damn curse," Fatima and Madi chimed in. "Cáel, lift the curse and then we can discuss things," Hayden tried and failed to sound humble. "If every woman in this rooms fatally slits their own throats in the next fifteen seconds, I'll plead to Ishara to lift the curse," I said. There wasn't a headlong rush to commit suicide. The only one so inclined was Krasimira. I motioned her to stop. "Well, I think we are done here. I have to go and try and cobble my life back together. You ladies have fun pulling off your 'Thelma and Louise' final act while I figure out some way for House Ishara to survive the upcoming war," I shrugged. Of course they didn't let me leave. Fatima on one side, the Golden Mare in the middle and Troika on the other. She had to be in a shitload of pain. "Lift the curse. If we are going to war, we need to be whole," Saint Marie urged me. "No." "Why should I stop these two from killing you right now?" she glared. "Because he is an Amazon," Krasimira muttered. "You should need no better reason. Ah; this is why we must die; thank you Cáel Ishara," she concluded. "A terrible sadness has gripped our people for as long as I have been Keeper. I found it lurking in the shadowy corners of my office when I was elevated. I now imagine it haunted my predecessors for some time as well. At least I will pass on knowing the name of our assassin." "The assassin is right here," Fatima spewed her hate at me. "You are correct," Krasimira chuckled. "The assassin is indeed in this room. Its name is Amazon. I need a moment, please." She stood and walked to the doors. What she wanted didn't take long at all. "Gun," we heard her request. The magazine fell to the ground. The sole bullet did not follow. Krasimira walked tenderly into the office as if every step tore like fishhooks at her flesh. "Take yourself to the cliffs, Hayden," Krasimira intoned as the one-shot pistol fell on Hayden's desk. "I no longer know you." Krasimira took in the whole room. "We show anger when we should show humility. We are proud of our shame. We are arrogant of our weaknesses. We have heaped insult upon insult on our ancestors yet are now aghast that they turn away from us," she shook her head. Her gaze settled on Saint Marie. "I am not one warrior alone, but one of a thousand warriors who have fought before me'; isn't that part of the oath of every member of the Security Detail swears?" Katrina fell to her knees. "Please Cáel. Please save us," she begged me. Something was very wrong with that. "How dare you?" Fatima howled at Katrina. Instead of being ashamed, Katrina's supplicant's face turned first into a grim grin, then one of gallows laughter. "And that is why we are all going to die," Katrina declared as she stood once more. "We are too proud to ask a man for help. We know what Ishara's curse is doing to us. You clearly don't care. You would rather die than admit that our damn ANCESTORS have placed a male here and now. Open your eyes!" she nearly screamed. "They sent a MAN for a reason; to open our eyes before we kill ourselves." You scream 'what gives him the right?' Ishara gives him the right. Nothing else matters. What I am asking you is 'what gives you the right to reject Ishara?' because that is what we have done. How could she make her will any more plainly obvious to us? Cáel has never stopped trying to save us and you two want to gut him like a lamb, or (to Saint Marie) break his body. Hayden, I will not place my rejection upon your desk. You have been as much a mother to me as my actual birth-mother. I love you. Since we first met, I have only wanted to make you proud of me and serve your will. What has gone wrong? How have we come to this? You were the one who told me we had to find a way to save our race; and now, when it stares us in the face; Why can't we accept it? How have I failed you, Hayden? What did I do wrong to not prepare you for this moment? It was my duty to keep you informed in all things and I can find nothing to excuse my failure," Katrina had gone from disappointed to heart-broken. Katrina prized herself on being able to stay ahead of any crisis. Here, at her greatest challenge, she hadn't been able to help her friend and mentor survive this calamity. I imagine that was the final blow for Hayden. Katrina had risen up through the Havenstone system as Hayden's protégé and had given Hayden her all. "Until this moment, I have never considered myself a coward," Hayden murmured. "You are blameless Katrina. In the final analysis, I sacrificed my courage for my life. And now I have neither. I can regain my courage here at the end and be true to the duties I was given," Hayden's resolve strengthened with each word. She took out a piece of paper and created a list. "Saint Marie, on this list are traitors to the Host. Gather these Amazons and prepare them to challenge my accusation." Saint Marie stepped forward, took the paper and quickly read it. "Hayden, this includes a third of the Council!" she gasped. "I am well aware of who I have accused. Please see to my final command, old friend," Hayden sighed. I could see a terrible weight lifted from her; the cliffs. "Final;” Saint Marie and Katrina groaned. "Yes. I will dine tonight with my family, then take myself to the cliffs with the dawn. I feel that will be a good end for me," Hayden mused. "Will Ishara forgive me, Cáel?" "No Hayden. It is not her way, but I will. There will be a place in Ishara's halls for you. I pledge you that," I suddenly felt a sorrowful pit in my stomach. Into that romantically tragic scene, Krasimira snorted with amusement. Eyes turned to her. Hayden shook her head, held up a hand to forestall the Keeper until she rounded the desk and left her office for the last time. "Who is on the list?" Fatima stormed up to the Golden Mare and looked over the list. "I am on this. So are you Troika," Fatima growled. "This is insane. We'll destroy Hayden over this; this; piece of filth." "I don't care if I'm on it, or not," Madi seethed. "I'm with you." "There is a small manner of little known law you may wish to be aware of," Krasimira chuckled. "The ruling of an honorably deceased High Priestess may not be challenged." "You two are under arrest," Saint Marie whipped out her pistol. Being with the SD, she was allowed to be fully armed in the High Priestess's presence. "What do you mean?" Fatima looked to Krasimira. "Cáel has killed you all and he didn't even mean to," Krasimira gave a dry chuckle. "By his act of kindness to Hayden, which I now think Hayden was counting on, our former High Priestess goes to an honorable death; taken into the Halls of Ishara in death. Unable to challenge Hayden's decree, you are all going to be executed and your names stricken from the rolls. You will wander aimlessly for all eternity while Hayden will live in the company of her sisters thanks to a man and his love for someone who was clearly his enemy," Krasimira kept snorting at the dark comedy. "Your sole avenue of spiritual survival lies with a man you tried to kill mere moments ago." "This is insane," Troika shouted and came at me. The room exploded with the sonic resonance of a pistol firing. I may have imagined it, but it appeared the bullet took Troika at the juncture of the right eyebrow, nose ridge and right eye. Whatever the entry point, the 45 ACP slug painted the wall behind her with her grey matter. Saint Marie turned quickly on Fatima. "Troika wasn't on the Council, so I could kill her for attempting to murder someone who was. I can't kill you immediately, but please believe I will put a bullet where it hurts if you don't do exactly what I say," the Golden Mare menaced. The debate was truncated by the four Security Detail ladies storming the room. Orders were dispensed and the wheels of Amazon society burst into motion. A side effect of my stunt was I had put Saint Marie in charge until the full Council could meet to create some sort of Regency Council to pilot the ship. There was zip gratitude aimed my way on her part and I didn't blame her one bit. I was headed out before things got too organized. I wanted some 'me' time. "Cáel Ishara, we have not resolved the matter that brought us to this disaster," Saint Marie growled. I was at the door. I looked over my shoulder at the Golden Mare, turned back toward freedom and saw Pamela. "Shoot me," I told Pamela. I was grappling with the horror of what I had just said when I returned to the darkness. MOTHER-FUCKER! I hate women! (Mutter; mutter; mutter) I became aware of my hazy, fugue-like dream state. Sadly, it was familiar and undoubtedly going to become even more familiar while I lived. "Upset with me, Cáel?" she asked. "You had me tell my friend to shoot me; yeah, Ishara, I'm a little cranky right now." "The question was rhetorical. I can read your mind," the Goddess snorted. "What happened to me?" "She bounced a bullet off your skull. You'll be okay. I am the Goddess of Medicine after all," she reminded me. "From an era when trepanning was popular. Color me unimpressed. Oh; and I apologize." "You will get me the fortune cookie next time," she lilted. Something crucial occurred to me. "Hey! I haven't had sex in a week. That hasn't happened to me in four years." "I don't think you are ready for that stage of our relationship yet," she tickled my nose. "Wait; did you just put me in the Friend Zone?" More laughter. "Seriously," I sighed. "Hayden?" "I forgive you," she soothed me. "Forgive me? I killed her. That is not okay. Wasn't; " "No, my Cáel. We are a blood-thirsty society and the ultimate mistakes are answered with the ultimate punishments. I cannot fully express my pride in you for what you did, even in opposition to my will." There was a pause in our relationship and conversation. I thought she sensed my turmoil and aided me in finding some level of peace. With her kind of entity, I would never be sure. "What did Carrig do to me?" I asked. "I don't know." That was not what I expect. Evasion; yes. The ugly truth; no. "I find the concept of an omniscient, omnipotent deity to be self-defeating," she mused. "Sort of negates the whole Free Will thing," I bantered. "Besides, what is the point of beseeching a being that already knows what's going to happen to you and would have saved you if that is what they wanted?" "Yeah," I groaned sarcastically, "I much prefer the divine ones who randomly fuck with your life because they can, rarely provide useful information and won't even put out on the second date." "I know this will cause you pain yet I will say it anyway; I love you." Yeah; I was suddenly wishing Pamela had missed and hit me between the eyes. "Very well, what can I do for you that would make you happier?" Inside of second. "Clever boy. Are you sure?" "Yes." "Done. I can no longer read your mind." A few seconds passed. "This is annoying. Is this what it is like dealing with me; this 'not knowing'?" "Yes and you proved it by the way," I murmured. Several more seconds. "This is really annoying me. Pick something else." Pause. "What does it prove?" "You love me," I grinned. "Love without freedom is illusionary. Freedom of thought is the basis of hope and hope drives all endeavors." A long pause. I was a bit curious about what was happening to my body. "Please." "No." "I could give you a divine gift; speak in tongues; regeneration; long life?" "Nope. Not happening." "I still love you." "Now I can say I love you and know I mean it." "That's unfair; clever and insightful, but unfair," she teased me. "What about the curse?" "Re-forge my statue at the Temple and the curse will be lifted. Be your regular creative self when you do so." Pause; divine sigh. "I need to send you back now. Oh, and make love to the first woman you see. It is important." "What? Why is it im;” and I felt the weight of my body and the throbbing of my temple. (Augurs don'ts and don't give a fuck abouts) I didn't want to open my eyes; really, truly, deeply. I had been dared by both guys and girls to pick up a certain female at a variety of events, even when they came with company. I'd done it because I'm that kind of low-life. Being pre-ordained to sleep with some chick felt wrong to me. It was cheating. I sincerely wished she hadn't been touching my face. Yes, someone was running their slender, feminine fingers over my forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, nose; yadda. "Ishara, I must speak with you," the strange woman implored. My eye movement had given my wakefulness away. I pried open my lids and looked up into the face of a living ghost. Her skin was albino pale with obvious veins and blue capillaries beneath the surface. Her ocular orbs were a deep milky white, with a tinge of light blue. I could barely make out the pupils. Her hair was whiter than Pamela's. From the structure and musculature of her hands and face; it was as if a perfectly healthy human woman's body was in a constant frantic battle against death. My senses expanded to embrace more of my resting place. I was in Katrina's office on the sofa. Katrina was not present. Buffy, the 'senior', Pamela, Rachel, Krasimira, the super-pale chick and two House Guard I didn't recognize were nearby. Despite my head throbbing to the beat of fiendish jackhammers, I managed to sit up. This upset the lady touching me as my movement broke our contact. "Ishara?" she pleaded. "That's it. From now on its Yakko Ishara, Wakko Ishara and Dot Ishara. Let's end all of this confusion over this 'which Ishara are we really wanting to talk to?' bullshit. So, what do you want?" I groaned. "I'm claiming the 'Yakko' spot, by the way." "Ishara?" she pleaded again. Was she protesting me taking the oldest Warner brothers' spot? Yeah, I was the youngest one of the pseudo-divine trio, but I absolutely owned the role of smart-alec. "She is an Augur," Krasimira explained. "The poisons she takes to put her in a receptive state to the ancestors, goddesses and the spiritual currents of the universe leave her blind and deaf to the mortal world. She communicates normally, but needs to be touching your lips to know what you are saying. Her name is Tadêfi and she has a message for you," she finished. "Give me a sec," I put my thoughts together despite my pain. Buffy shoved a glass of water and three pills my way. I downed them gratefully. Buffy was clearly distressed. I was getting the crap kicked out of me a lot and, in theory, it was her job to stop such things from happening. "Buffy, we couldn't have foreseen Carrig coming after me the way he did. He slipped through the seams of very good security," I tried to comfort her. "Pamela shot me on the Goddess/Dot Ishara's orders. She can only communicate with me when I'm in a near-death state," I said. "I have a new mission for you." I needed to keep her mind busy with things other than me. Buffy was action-oriented and I was giving her a doozy of a task. "Obtain at least five of the bullet casings from the battle that took my Father's life. Give them to Krasimira. They are to be melted down with the original statue and recast into a new symbol of the Goddess. We will be a melding of the old and the new," I ordered. Yes, I was sacrificing a priceless ancient artifact for a current political agenda. I'm reprehensible. Kimberly would be ashamed. "Now, who were the women whose names I gave you?" "They are all deceased 'Runners', Ishara," the senior told me. Oh; that made sense. "Tomorrow we induct them into House Ishara," I stated. "Ishara, they are dead," senior repeated. "Do you believe the souls of Amazons go to the houses of their ancestors after dying?" I posed. That took a few seconds to soak in. My almost albino was getting truly distressed so I took her hand and put it on my lips as I asked the latest question. "Oh;” the senior and Buffy both muttered. "All those 'Runners'; their spirits wander aimlessly for eternity bereft of companionship and a place to call home," I told them. "That is a crime," I continued. "Even as Ishara moves forward, we must be honest about our past. Those women earned a place in the Host. They were unduly denied their promised afterlife and we will start rectifying that tomorrow." Their looks broadcast their interpretation of my declaration: I was a wonderful child who had won first place for our team at the State Fair. Now that she was back in the communication loop, the augur calmed down. "You have a message for me?" I 'asked' her. Halfway through, I stopped enunciating. "Yes, Ishara. My dead sister stepped back through the flames and told me you;” she began. "No; stop," I told her. "Everyone leave." They honored my wishes and departed except; "What are you still doing here?" I asked the House Guard who remained. Now that I had a chance to study her, I realized she bore the same cuneiform designation as Krasimira. "I am her guardian. I am always at her side," the woman explained rather heatedly. She was certainly not a fan of the man in mankind. "By all means; have it your way. Augur, your message is unimportant. Write it down and have it sent out as a memo for everyone in Havenstone to read. Someone may tell me about it. I'm horrible with my e-mail, so I probably won't read it myself," I growled. This shit stopped now. I stood and made to leave. The augur swatted out and grabbed my arm when she hit it. "Ishara, you must;” and I lightly slapped her face. The guardian drew down on me. "How dare you?" the guardian seethed. "I am thinking the same thing; 'how dare you?'" I rumbled. "How dare you decide what messages she does, or does not, deliver?" "Tadêfi has something important to tell you," the guardian growled. "Augurs died to bring you this message." "Clearly the message isn't important enough for you to leave the room," I countered. "I took bullet to the head so I could talk to the Goddess Dot Ishara." I was going to enjoy calling my matron pain-in-the-cranium that. She was probably less amused. "I'm about out of patience with you smug, delusionary superior sluts demanding things from me as if you weren't my underlings," I glared. "Get with the program, or get out." Though I had told her to get out, I was the one leaving. I needed clothes, a shave and a chance to get my bearings. I didn't need those two. Tadêfi tried to speak again. I put my hand to her lips to stop her again then raised her hands to my lips. "I do not want to hear what you have to say," I related. "If you try to tell me what you have been told, I will purposely ignore it and cut out your tongue for your insolence. Your sisters died in vain because your guardian has decided what you say is not worth her leaving the room for us to talk in private. Sleep well with the dying screams of your sisters' agonies echoing in your mind and know your fellow Amazons have wished this fate upon you. Good-bye." "How; augurs are sacrosanct and their messages are rare and crucial to the Host," the guardian sputtered. "Didn't know, don't care and could care less what you think is crucial for the Host," I sighed as I started walking away. "What is happening?" the augur wailed. "Her visions are lacerations on her soul," the guardian howled. "Does her pain mean nothing to you?" Those two had to be incredibly tight, the guardian watching the augur scarred and worn down by the task she had been chosen for; and not being able to help. "Not enough to keep me here," I answered at the door. "She's your buddy, not mine and I have a plateful of unhappiness already set before me." I opened the door. "Is there a problem?" Krasimira inquired as I stepped out. She had a guardian too. Pamela was also close by and strategically placed to dispose of said guardian. "Her bodyguard told me to ignore Tadêfi, so I am," I muttered. I hurt. The pain-killers had yet to kick in; and I'd just come out of a coma. Fuck'em. If Ishara wanted me to nail that girl, she was going to have to step up on her level of assistance aimed my way. I accepted that she had her limitations, but so did I. "Cáel Ishara, is that precisely what she said?" the Keeper was being diplomatic. "No; what do I call you?" "Krasimira, Cáel," she answered. "I do not believe it was Tadêfi's intent to be ignored. May I mediate?" "No," I replied. "I will talk with Tadêfi alone, or not at all. Quite frankly, half the time you women open your mouths, I want to kick you off the roof of this building. Either I see some damn humility; your words, Krasimira; or I carry on the Amazon tradition with Ishara and her legion of former 'Runners' while the rest of you are throttled by your pride." Do note that the Executive Services floor was very active and several members heard my statement loud and clear. "May we please try this meeting one more time?" she requested. Her bodyguard nearly choked on Krasimira's gentle, conciliatory tone. "I could not consider myself an Amazon and deny the Keeper's suggestion on this matter. Let's give it one more shot," I conceded. All I was asking for was 'nice'. I wasn't deluded into thinking Krasimira was suddenly my fan. She was simply acting on the enlightenment that her ancestors and goddesses had revealed. We headed back into Katrina's office. As with any divine direction, she knew she had two choices; harm, or heal. She had accepted responsibility that to heal her people, the spirits had chosen a male. Liking me had nothing to do with it. Being true to her oaths and nature as an Amazon were the acting forces here. Amazons survived, first and foremost. They feared nothing, not even change. Her fellows had denied the need for change based solely on pride and Krasimira recognized that now. Back in Katrina's office, the guardian was trying to calm her nearly hysterical charge. I would have been much happier if we had been more alone. The room had become crowded with ghosts during my short absence. Krasimira, who was following, bumped into me. "Ishara?" she whispered. As unfortunate as that was, Tadêfi's blind eyes following the fixed stares of all the ghosts in my direction was worse. I squeezed my brain for an appropriate bit of trivia that would put my depression on its ass. There was this movie by M. Night Shakalaka-ding dong (or something like that) about a boy who saw dead people. The hero; the man trying to help the boy; he turned out to be a ghost as well who didn't figure that out until the end of the flick. But, it got better. Using the numerous ghostly gazes like searchlights pinning down an escaping convict, Tadêfi ran right into my arms. That was a pretty remarkable feat; a blind girl in an unfamiliar room covering four meters flawlessly. But, it kept getting better. All the ghosts started to yammer, clambering for attention. Tadêfi began to weep piteously. I had to wonder if this was Ishara's penalty for keeping my mind free of her meddling. No one else seemed to understand what the fuck was going on. Krasimira was the augur wrangler, not in tune with the spirits herself. She was also the Supreme Litigator, which necessitated her being able to interact with the mortal world on a constant basis, so I couldn't hold her lack of spiritual mojo against her. My instincts were telling me that screaming and yelling was pointless. The cacophony was incredibly vexing, but I could deal. Tadêfi couldn't. I was looking at this dilemma from the wrong angle. Instead of taking on the hundreds, I would take on the one. I placed one of the augur's hands on my lips then placed my hands over her ears. My hope was that since I could interact with the restless dead, my flesh could act as a buffer to their insistent beseeching of us for recognition of their numerous appeals. My first song was one of the melodies sung to me by Oneida's kin while I fought off her Death Pledge. Bit by bit, a tiny fraction followed by the greater whole, I pulled Tadêfi back from the brink of insanity. Eventually, she began mumbling a different refrain into my chest. "My ears work better than my lip-reading," I chided her playfully. The ghosts hadn't stopped their pleas for attention. It was the sonic and tactile sensation of my song upon her fingers and the fluctuation of my lungs in pushing forth the music that allowed her to focus on her mortal coil. As we sang together, eventually with her teaching me a few new ballads, we shut the world out. Once our shared reality collapsed down to just the two of us, the babble diminished then finally faded away. "May I relay my message now?" Tadêfi requested. "No, we have to have sex first," I replied. Whoops; shit-storm. What followed was a blur. "I can't have sex," Tadêfi murmured. "The touch of a man would corrupt me." Plus. "She is an augur," her guardian declared firmly. "She must remain a virgin." Plus. "Cáel Ishara, augurs cannot be;” Krasimira's tongue became tied. "You go, Tiger," Pamela tossed out there. "Tadêfi, where are you right now?" I began my rotation of responses. "Why does she have to be a virgin? And, thanks Pamela. That was less helpful than normal." "I aim to disappoint, Cheetah," Pamela smirked. I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was. She; Tarzan. Me; Cheetah, the Immortal baby chimpanzee. Just what I needed. "It is the law," the guardian moved to separate us. "She must not be touched by a man," Krasimira stated. "Not having intercourse is implied. If she has been corrupted, why did the spirits continue to surround her after Cáel's touch?" "Keeper, this cannot be allowed," the guardian changed her focus. "I agree in that this is your choice to make," Krasimira countered. "Without knowing the missive, you must decide what your charge may, and may not, do. Your oath is to her personally, not to me or any other entity. Consider what the task of guardian truly is before deciding." The convoluted decision: what was the chief duty of a guardian; the message, or the messenger? The augur could convey urgency yet was powerless to act without the guardian's permission. She had to trust her guardian with the basics of life. The guardian; she had to trust what could not be sensed, or even fully understood. "Why; why this condition?" the guardian returned her gaze to me. I could have been a dick. "Dot Ishara told me to have intercourse with the first woman I saw when I woke up," I said. "If you hurt her, I will kill you," the Amazon threatened. "First off, Tadêfi, would you like to fool around?" I might want to get my potential sex partners permission before proceeding. You know; not be a rapist. "I don't know what you want, but if this is what we must do," Tadêfi acquiesced. "First time sex is going to be painful, so be prepared," I cautioned both young women. "If you;” the guardian repeated her threat. "Cáel, you should give daily thanks I don't leave a trail of dead bodies everywhere you go," Pamela declared with malicious menace. "So many pretentious bitches; I tell you, my ability to tolerate your forgiving nature is being sorely tested, damn it." Wow, was that totally ass-backwards, or what? As a side note to life: I was going to receive a serious beat-down the second my sexual tryst ended. Two pernicious women: Buffy; I had been damaged by someone who wasn't her. There was no way she'd forgive me for that. And Pamela; I had sent Estere away to escort Libra instead of keeping the assassin close. Without a doubt, I had taken Pamela away from some odious errand conducted on my behalf, yet without my knowledge. Yes, some serious torment was headed my way. Back to the girl at hand. Back to being the 'me' I wanted to be. Oink! With torturous reluctance, the guardian made to leave. "Wait," I called out. "You can stay if you join us." Yes, I was angling for a three-way with a women who wanted to make line drives with a five iron using my nuts for golf balls; and the blind and deaf girl. I couldn

Episode No. 681 of The Modern Art Notes Podcast features artist Tidawhitney Lek. Lek is featured in "Spirit House" at the Cantor Arts Center at Stanford University. The exhibition considers how 33 contemporary artists of Asian descent challenge the boundary between life and death through art, including how the spiritual relates to diaspora, connections to ancestral homelands, and the experience of feeling present within multiple cultures and multiple geographies. The show's curatorial framework was inspired by spirit houses, small devotional structures found throughout Thailand that provide shelter for the supernatural. The exhibition was curated by Aleesa Pitchamarn Alexander with Kathryn Cua. It is on view through January 26, 2025. An excellent exhibition catalogue, titled "Spirit House: Hauntings in Contemporary Art of the Asian Diaspora,"  was published by the Cantor and Gregory R. Miller & Co. Amazon and Bookshop offer it for $45-50. Discussed on the program: Martha Rosler's "House Beautiful: Bringing the War Home" series may be viewed on the website of the Museum of Modern Art, New York. The work of Amir Fallah and Annie Lapin. Lek's website. Lek is a southern California-based, Cambodian-American artist whose work examines narratives surrounding and the daily experiences of a first-generation American born to immigrant parents. Her work has been included in exhibitions at the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego, the Made in LA biennial at the Hammer Museum, University of California, Los Angeles, and the Institute of Contemporary Art Miami. Her first museum solo show was at the Long Beach Museum of Art last year. Instagram: Tidawhitney Lek, Tyler Green.

Today's episode is an absolute gem. I'm joined by the incredible entrepreneurs Sophia and Hawk, who have become like family since the day we met. We're diving deep into our family's history of survival to assimilating in America through hospitality and food. Our conversation explores their roots and the challenges of cultural identity. We reminisce about favorite childhood dishes highlighting the significance of home-cooked meals and the rich tapestry of Asian cuisines in Southern California, as well as their experience creating the first ever Cambodian American wings in Southern California. Join us on this enriching discussion about culture, language, and hospitality and get to know the owners of the most flavorful, innovative and tasty wings that is Shlap Muan.    Visit Shlap Muan at their pop ups in Southern California or at Smorgasburg in Los Angeles every Sunday. Follow their instagram @shlapmuan and give them a follow. These two are some of the most hardworking and genuine people I've gotten to meet in the food industry.  Connect with me: Email: mayly@donutprincessla.com Business Website: www.donutprincessla.com YouTube: Mayly Tao / DONUT PRINCESS LA Instagram: @donutprincessla / @maylytao Facebook: Donut Princess Los Angeles Twitter: Donut Princess LA Tiktok: teochewdaily LinkedIn: Mayly Tao Apple Podcast: Short N' Sweet: A Donut Princess Podcast *Watch the Donut King Film here: thedonutkingfilm.com (also available on Apple TV, Google Play, and Amazon Prime Now)

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..

Released this week, the final film in our Shifting Landscapes documentary film series, Taste of the Land, tells the story of Cambodian-American filmmaker Kalyanee Mam's search for a spiritual relationship with her homeland. In this companion essay by Kalyanee, she delves deeper into her experiences of cheate—the Khmer word for “taste”—and how she came to understand that to truly know the essence of the land, one must know its taste. Tracing her life back to its very beginnings, she shares her first “land-taste”—the sweet flavor of Battambang oranges—and the many tastes that came after that slowly deepened the yearning in her heart to truly know the soils, waters, mountains, people, and plants of Cambodia. As she reflects on the spiritual fallout of her family's severed relationship with their homeland, she also contemplates the essential connection that was kept alive through stories, language, and food shared by her parents.  Read the essay  Watch the feature film Taste of the Land, by Adam Loften and Emmanuel Vaughan-Lee, the fourth in our four-part Shifting Landscapes documentary film series. Photo by Jeremy Seifert. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In December last year, Cambodian-American filmmaker Kalyanee Mam's short film Lost World screened at our Shifting Landscapes exhibition in London. Kalyanee's films tenderly document the changing cultural and ecological landscapes of her homeland, and in Lost World she shares the story of a community in Koh Sralau whose livelihoods are threatened as the mangrove forests they depend on are ruthlessly mined for sand to build an “eco-park” in Singapore. In this conversation, recorded live at the exhibition, Emergence executive editor Emmanuel Vaughan-Lee speaks with Kalyanee about her years-long process of creating the film, and the intimate relationships she holds with people and land that allow her to tell powerful, and often heartbreaking, stories of changing landscapes from a place of humility and connection.  Read the transcript  Watch Kalyanee's short film Lost World and read her companion essay Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In 1995, a Cambodian refugee was gunned down in an alley in L.A.'s Chinatown. But this wasn't a typical murder. The victim was Haing Ngor, an Oscar-winning actor and humanitarian. Many Cambodians believe Ngor was assassinated over his role in The Killing Fields – a film that depicted the Khmer Rouge's reign of terror. Three teenage gang members were convicted and sentenced to decades in prison for murder. Yet to this day, the Cambodian community remains unconvinced of the boys' guilt. In this season of Strangeland, journalist Ben Adair and Cambodian–American podcaster Mayly Tao piece through Haing Ngor's journey from genocide survivor to Hollywood start to murder victim – and re-investigate the LAPD's case to find out if justice was lost in translation.Subscribe and listen to Strangeland now wherever you listen to podcasts.  Strangeland is an audiochuck production. Connect with us on social media:Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

In 1995, a Cambodian refugee was gunned down in an alley in L.A.'s Chinatown. But this wasn't a typical murder. The victim was Haing Ngor, an Oscar-winning actor and humanitarian. Many Cambodians believe Ngor was assassinated over his role in The Killing Fields – a film that depicted the Khmer Rouge's reign of terror. Three teenage gang members were convicted and sentenced to decades in prison for murder. Yet to this day, the Cambodian community remains unconvinced of the boys' guilt. In this season of Strangeland, journalist Ben Adair and Cambodian–American podcaster Mayly Tao piece through Haing Ngor's journey from genocide survivor to Hollywood start to murder victim – and re-investigate the LAPD's case to find out if justice was lost in translation.Strangeland is an audiochuck production. Connect with us on social media:Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

  Do you want to be happy?  But you're afraid of making career changes?  In this episode, we discuss: - How to find happiness even in a career that is known to be soul sucking like law. - What cooking can do to help us process generational trauma, including genocide by the Khmer Rouge. - Discover the importance of embracing the complexities of your identities; Chhunny discusses the unique challenges and privileges faced by refugees and how to navigate them. - How we come from refugee backgrounds but have different types of privileges.  - What we can do to process unexpected family deaths.  - How to take a leap of faith and make big career changes to pursue our passion and find happiness. Mention this podcast and connect with Chhunny at www.linkedin.com/in/chhunny-chhean-a78473159. Connect with Samorn at www.linkedin.com/in/samornselim.  Get a copy of Samorn's book, “Belonging: Self Love Lessons From A Workaholic Depressed Insomniac Lawyer” at https://tinyurl.com/swpc578c. Get weekly career tips by signing up for our newsletter at www.careerunicorns.com.  

We're celebrating CAAMFest (Center for Asian American Media) 2024 with two films about young women athletes!Home Court is a documentary that follows Ashley Chea, a basketball prodigy and first generation Cambodian-American, as she navigates recruitment, injury, and generational trauma. We are joined by director Erica Tanamachi and producer Jenn Lee Smith who share their excitement in telling a story about Asian American sport leagues, showing a positive relationship between a player and her coach, prioritizing people on and off camera, and working with two Bitch Talk favorites, Lisa Ling and Ruby Ibarra.The documentary Ashima follows a year in the life of 13 year-old Ashima Shiraishi, one of the world's youngest elite rock climbers, as she travels with her father/coach from New York to South Africa in the hopes of becoming the youngest climber to conquer a V14 boulder (in the climbing world, this is an elite ranked climb). Director Kenji Tsukamoto and producer Minji Chang share their decade long journey into getting this film made, Kenji's intimate filmmaking experience that involved living with the family, and Ashima's reaction to watching the film ten years later.Follow Home Court on IGFollow director Erica Tanamachi on IGFollow producer Jenn Lee Smith on IGFollow Ashima on IGFollow director Kenji Tsukamoto on IGFollow producer Minji Chang on IGSupport the Show.Thanks for listening and for your support! We couldn't have reached 11 years, recorded 800+ episodes, and won Best of the Bay Best Podcast in 2022 and 2023 without your help! -- Be well, stay safe, Black Lives Matter, AAPI Lives Matter, and abortion is normal. -- Subscribe to our channel on YouTube for behind the scenes footage! Rate and review us wherever you listen to podcasts! Visit our website! www.bitchtalkpodcast.com Follow us on Instagram & Facebook Listen every Tuesday at 9 - 10 am on BFF.FM

We're honoring Southeast Asian thought leaders this year and will be having conversations with folks about their experiences and contributions as Southeast Asian artist and talent. This program includes a traditional senior blessing ceremony, performances, and a reception featuring Thai, Cambodian, Lao and Burmese food. About the Speakers Neo-soul singer Bochan (Bochan Huy) is a Cambodian American artist based in Oakland, California. Born in Cambodia, her musical stylings and influence is a culmination of her experience as both a refugee and diaspora raised in the melting pot of the Bay Area. Bochan grew up singing in her father's Cambodian American bands. Honoring traditional style and stepping bravely away, she ushers in a new musical age. KP, also known as Khetphet Phagnasay, is a Lao-American actor, director, producer, and stuntman. He has worked on various projects, including the acclaimed Netflix series "Dahmer; Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story," where he portrayed Sounthone, the father of a 14-year-old Laotian victim. He also shared a scene opposite Michelle Yeoh in The Brothers Sun.He has also been involved in films such as "God is an Astronaut," "Demon Fighter," "Street of Hope," and "Hollywood Road Trip," among others. He grew up in Oswego, Illinois, then moved to Waianae, Hawaii, before settling in Clovis/Fresno, California. He obtained his B.A. in Theatre Arts from California State University, Fresno, and pursued further education in Asian Theatre, focusing on acting, at the University of Hawaii, Manoa. KP has also traveled to Japan, Taiwan, and mainland China as a performer. Kevin Tancharoen is a director, writer, producer, and choreographer. His feature directing credits include Glee: The 3D Concert Movie for Fox and Fame for MGM. Tancharoen has directed multiple episodes of Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., HBO Max's Warrior, The Flash, 12 Monkeys, Titans, Amazon's Prison Break event series and Mortal Kombat: Legacy. He most recently directed on "The Mandalorian" spin-off "The Book of Boba Fett" for Lucasfilm as well as directing and executive producing Thai Cave Rescue, a limited series at Netflix from Jon M. Chu and SKG. Prior to his film and TV directing career, he directed Britney Spears' "Onyx Hotel" tour, choreographing her "Me Against the Music" video; remixed projects for Christina Aguilera, Jessica Simpson, and Tyrese; and contributed creatively to Britney Spears' "Dream Within a Dream Tour" and *NSYNC's "Pop Odyssey Tour.” Our thanks for the generous support of The Bamboo Organization for making this program possible. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

No-No Boy is a folk music project from Julian Saporiti that began as a Brown University PhD researching Asian American history. The stories and figures in Saporiti's songs include a Cambodian American painter, survivors of Japanese internment, and many others from a wide array of Asian American identities. Ahead of a Joe's Pub show on March 29, Saporiti joins us to discuss his work.*This segment is guest-hosted by Kousha Navidar

Journalist Putsata Reang discuss her award-winning book "Ma and Me: A Memoir," about growing up as a Cambodian American refugee and gay woman. She is joined by Dr. Sue Ellen McComas, associate professor of Speech Communication at BGSU Firelands and recipient of the 2019 Women of Distinction award at BGSU. Together, they talk about exploring your identity, finding your voice as an adult, and supporting others' journeys to belong. Putsata visits BGSU Firelands on Wednesday, April 3, 2024. For more information, see: https://events.bgsu.edu/event/putsata

Held at our Shifting Landscapes exhibition in December last year, this panel discussion, moderated by Emmanuel Vaughan-Lee, brought together environmental justice activist and Climate in Colour founder Joycelyn Longdon, award-winning Cambodian-American filmmaker Kalyanee Mam, and folk singer, song collector, and author Sam Lee to consider how we might rekindle awe and reciprocity by remembering ourselves as extensions of the changing Earth. Centering narratives of kinship amid the uncertainty of our time—and inviting the surprise of spontaneous, emergent song—each share ways in which their work opens spaces of connection with the living world. Read the transcript. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

#198:  Each neighborhood of LA has its own history — meet a painter who brings her story to life in paint and glitter.  In the latest episode of How To LA, podcast host Brian De Los Santos and producer Victoria Alejandro visit the Flower District studio of Cambodian-American painter Tidawhitney Lek. Lek's work is currently on display at the Hammer Museum, as part of their Made In LA show, and at the Long Beach Museum of Art. She let us in on her process of creating intimate, personal work that captures both her family's history and domestic spaces in LA. Take a look at some of the works discussed in this episode on Tidawhitney's website and Instagram.And check out the LAist post here:  It's all a part of an occasional HTLA series centering on artists, mostly painters and photographers, who tell the story of Los Angeles through their works. You can find our earlier episodes on the feed. Guest: Painter Tidawhitney Lek