Podcasts about Long Island Medium

How Her Deceased Son Became Her Greatest Spiritual Teacher and Led Her to MediumshipMedium Gail Lynn earned a bachelor's degree in psychology an she was an elementary school teacher for 10 years before she transformed into a gifted certified evidential medium, a Reiki healer, an intuitive grief coach, and a certified grief educator. She was happily married to her high school sweetheart for over 35 years, raising their two children as a dedicated stay-at-home mom until 2017, when their beloved son Jake transitioned, leaving Gail's heart shattered as the world as she knew it came crashing down. This intense tragedy opened Gail to a profound, transformative journey of spiritual awakening, and although her intuition had always been a guiding force for her, Gail's gifts deepened after Jake transitioned.During this memorable interview, you will hear about Gail's close bond with her son Jake, what she calls “the butterfly day” after Jake's funeral, her experience at Borgata Casino in Atlantic City with the Long Island medium, the ways getting to a place of KNOWING has been a huge game changer for Gail and her grief, how Jake has been and continues to be Gail's greatest spiritual teacher, and more, for this unforgettable interview filled with life-changing insights! IN THIS EPISODE, YOU'LL HEAR ABOUT THINGS LIKE:Gail's close soulmate connection with Jake.How Gail found out that she and Jake are soulmates and part of a Divine Plan. The clear and profound ways Jake came to Gail immediately after he passed.Gail's experience with the Long Island medium at the Borgata Casino in Atlantic City.Grief as a catalyst for spiritual awakening and intuition.Recognizing signs from loved ones in spirit.Healing modalities for grief and raising vibrations.How journaling with Jake brought Gail to a place of KNOWING. SOME QUESTIONS IRENE ASKS GAIL:What was your experience with the Long Island Medium at the Borgata Casino in Atlantic City? What was your “butterfly day” after Jake's funeral? What healing modalities did you use after Jake transitioned, and how did they lead to mediumship with Jake?How did Jake guide and teach you to connect with him through meditation, channeled writing, and studying mediumship?What does healing mean to you and how can we know when we are healing? Why do you say that grief is our greatest teacher?✨ Irene's new anthology book, Good to the Last Drop! Embracing Your Life's Third Chapter is now available on Amazon.✨ Get the audiobook version of Irene's book, They Serve Bagels in Heaven for FREE when you sign up for Audible's FREE 30-day trial using her link: https://amzn.to/4dG4l4w✨ For a curated collection of Irene's favorite books, music, healing events, and self-care essentials, head over to kit.co/GriefandRebirth.✨ Find your next source of healing and inspiration at the Grief and Rebirth Bookshop.Listen to all episodes of the Grief and Rebirth Podcast HERE:● Apple Podcast● Spotify● Grief and Rebirth Podcast Page Find Irene on social media:● Instagram● Facebook● X● TikTok ✨ Get your copy of Irene's book: They Serve Bagels in Heaven: One Couple's Story of Love, Eternity, and the Cosmic Importance of Everyday LifeGet access to The Live Your Most Evolved Life Summit Replay, where we showcase a synergy of talent that will heighten your intuition and will undoubtedly illuminate, enlighten, and spark your soul on your evolutionary journey towards ascension.✨ Sign up for the Grief and Rebirth newsletter to stay up-to-date on forthcoming episodes, events, healing tools, and announcements.Grief and Rebirth LLC is an affiliate, and we may earn a commission from purchases made through recommendations of products and services mentioned on the website, email, and social media channels, including Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube. This commission helps to support the podcast and allows us to continue providing valuable information and resources to our audience. We only

Have you ever felt the weight of unseen battles? Patterns of fear, torment, or unfulfilled dreams seem to haunt your life no matter how hard you try to break free. What if these struggles are tied to spiritual gifts, generational callings, or even demonic forces that have been at work since childhood? The Bible promises that the truth brings freedom. By surrendering to Christ, we can overcome the enemy's schemes and step into the fullness of God's purpose. This episode of the Revelations Podcast uncovers a story of redemption, spiritual warfare, and the anointing of worship that's reaching the nations. Reagan Kramer welcomes Quintavius Johnson, a worship and gospel singer as well as American Idol finalist. Quintavius shares how intimacy with the Holy Spirit has guided him through every season. This isn't a conversation about music, —it's a deep dive into faith, obedience, and the supernatural work of God.This episode is for anyone longing to see how God moves in their life. Whether you're a believer wrestling with spiritual attacks, a believer yet adrift in your calling, or someone hungry for the Lord.Here are three reasons why you should listen to this episode:Uncover the connection between spiritual gifts and personal struggles.Learn practical ways to deepen your intimacy with the Holy Spirit through prayer, fasting, and obedience.Explore how God uses unexpected platforms to spread the Gospel.Become Part of Our Mission! Support The Revelations Podcast:Your support fuels our mission to share transformative messages of hope and faith. Click here to learn how you can contribute and be part of this growing community!ResourcesMore from the Revelations Podcast hosted by Reagan Kramer: Website | Instagram | Apple Podcast | YoutubeQuintavious Johnson - Facebook | X | | Tiktok | InstagramBible Verses1 Corinthians 6:12Proverbs 3:5-6James 2:17James 4:6Hosea 4:61 Corinthians 4:20Proverbs 11:14 This Episode is brought to you by Advanced Medicine AlternativesGet back to the active life you love through natural & regenerative musculoskeletal healing: https://www.georgekramermd.com/Episode Highlights[0:50] Meeting Quintavius JohnsonQuintavius Johnson is a skilled worship and gospel singer.Quintavius traces his musical beginnings to his family and church, where he sang in the choir, and later joined Team NCM under Nicole C. Mullen's mentorship.He shares his pivotal moment at 11, choosing America's Got Talent over a Belize trip, becoming a finalist and facing the lure of secular success.Despite giving glory to God on the show, he admits to running from his calling, wanting freedom to chase his own desires while still loving Jesus.[05:41] God Redeems Quintavius's Childhood ExperiencesQuintavius reveals how international fame from America's Got Talent was misused for self-interest, a pattern God is now redeeming for His glory.[5:41] Quintavious: “After I fully submitted to Him, got saved, filled the Holy Ghost again, He now has allowed me to redeem that he is redeemed again. Now I was on the national, international stage, and I am making his name great, and it's for the purpose of God.”He opens up about misunderstood spiritual gifts—like seeing visions—initially confusing them for demonic or medium-like experiences due to lack of guidance.A turning point came when he surrendered fully to Christ, allowing God to refine these gifts for prophetic ministry and deliverance of others.Reagan connects this to listeners, noting how God's protection kept Quintavius from darker paths, now using his platform to win souls.[20:50] Demonic Torment During Early YearsQuintavius claims to have had chilling encounters with demons in elementary and middle school, like beds shaking and hearing hoof-like footsteps, fueling a spirit of fear.The enemy exploited his ignorance, tormenting him with nightmares and voices urging harm, aiming to silence his future calling.Quintavius credits the Holy Spirit for guiding him to fast and pray—sometimes for weeks—leading to physical deliverance, like vomiting out demonic influences.He mentions influential figures like Alexander Pagani and his pastor Shelley Morrison, whose teachings and hugs broke spiritual chains.Dreams once filled with torment became tools of deliverance as he rejected demonic offers in sleep, waking up free by God's power.[32:54] Bringing His Spiritual Gifts to the World StageQuintavius reluctantly joined American Idol after receiving persistent invitations. He sang “Alabaster Box” for judges Katy Perry, Lionel Richie, and Luke Bryan.He felt the song was a powerful movement—Katy cried, Lionel claimed he felt God's presence, and Luke likened it to a baptism—shifting the show's atmosphere.Behind the scenes, revival broke out: crew members and contestants got saved, atheists turned to Christ, and the theme changed from gladiators to classmates.[37:38] Quintavious: “They literally started calling it revival. It was such a revival of the love of God and of the power of the Holy Ghost that people want to get more.”Quintavious' performances are on his Instagram, demonstrating how his worship visibly carried the Holy Spirit to impact thousands.[42:28] God's Permission, or God's Plan?Quintavius reflects on a misstep during American Idol; he chose a song God permitted but didn't ordain, learning that lawful actions aren't always in line with God's wishes.Despite the permission, not following God's exact plan halted his progression. He learned to prioritize precise obedience over rationalized choices.[49:19] Reagan: “God's opening doors, well, why? Because you've been faithful, you've screwed up. He's the God of second chances.”He shares how God still redeemed this, as a viral “12 Days of Christmas” video in December 2024 brought greater reach than the show, saving lives and opening doors.[52:53] Staying Faithful to God's Call TodayQuintavius stresses prayer, fasting, and staying rooted in Scripture to balance his dual presence in gospel and secular spheres, keeping his focus on God's assignment.He credits his local church community for grounding him, offering safety in counsel and keeping pride at bay as his influence grows.[53:31] Quintavious: “I stay faithful to my church community. Having a community around you is important, you know, the multitude of counsel, there is safety.”His mission bridges worlds, bringing salvation to both gospel artists who don't live it and secular folks unaware of Jesus, acting as a “secret agent” for the Kingdom.Quintavius envisions God deepening his intimacy with the Spirit and expanding his ministry globally, not just in industry fame but in soul-winning across nations.He sees himself growing as a leader in the body of Christ, shaped by ongoing lessons in manhood and stewardship of his gifts.His local church remains vital, providing covering and training—like casting out demons in outreach—keeping him humble and accountable.[1:00:49] Encouraging the LonelyQuintavius encourages trusting God over self, rejecting the lie of isolation. God has a community for everyone.He advises praying for revelation of that community, warning against the enemy's tactic to isolate and confuse through lack of guidance.The body of Christ is collective, not solitary, and finding a church or group stirs gifts and offers support.Reagan prays for Quintavius, asking for strategic discernment, protection, and boldness to spread the gospel worldwide through his voice.Quintavius requests prayer to steward his transition well, avoiding procrastination and aligning with God's will as his influence rises.About QuintaviousQuintavius Johnson is a worship and gospel singer, prophetic minister, and dynamic voice for God's Kingdom, celebrated for his powerful testimony and anointed performances. Rising to fame as a finalist on America's Got Talent at age 12, he later captivated audiences on American Idol in 2024, where his singing sparked revival and led souls to Christ. With a background rooted in church choirs and a family of singers, Quintavius discovered his spiritual gifts early, navigating demonic torment and prophetic visions that God has since redeemed for deliverance and global ministry.Now 23, Quintavius bridges the secular and gospel worlds, using platforms like his viral “12 Days of Christmas” video to spread hope and salvation. A faithful servant in his local church, he ministers through worship, intercession, and outreach, drawing from years of intimacy with the Holy Spirit to cast out demons and ignite faith. Passionate about obedience and humility, Quintavius's journey equips believers to surrender fully, embrace their callings, and experience the transformative power of God's love.Connect with Quintavious through his social media platforms Facebook, X, Youtube, Tiktok and Instagram. Enjoyed this Episode?If you did, subscribe and share it with your friends!Post a review and share it! If you enjoyed tuning in about generational curses and how to break them, leave us a review. You can also share this with your friends and family. Discover how spiritual gifts and unseen battles might be shaping your life's struggles today. Learn how to surrender fully and step into God's purpose through the power of the Holy Spirit.Have any questions? You can connect with me on Instagram.Thank you for tuning in! For more updates, tune in on Apple Podcasts. 

Roz peeks through the blinds and gasps with delight—Zachariah Porter, THE comedy sensation, has arrived for a freaky kiki! Utterly gagged, the two discuss a haunted Elsa doll that terrorized a Texas family, why Bigfoot is kind of annoying, and Zachariah’s close encounter with the Long Island Medium.Want to share YOUR paranormal experience on the podcast? Email your *short* stories to GhostedByRoz@gmail.com and maybe Roz will read it out loud on the show... or even call you!Be sure to follow the show @GhostedByRoz on Instagram.Support this podcast by shopping our latest sponsor deals and promotions at this link: https://bit.ly/3WwYCsrSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Leah Rantz talks with Theresa Caputo aka The Long Island Medium about her upcoming appearance at Foxwoods Casino (2/8)

Theresa Caputo is an American psychic medium, best known for her TLC reality television series Long Island Medium. Visit https://theresacaputo.com/ for more! Howie Mandel Does Stuff available on every podcast platform Visit the Official Howie Mandel Website for more: https://www.howiemandel.com/ Howie Mandel Does Stuff Merchandise available on Amazon.com here https://www.amazon.com/shop/howiemandeldoesstuff Join the "Official Howie Mandel Does Stuff" Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/HowieMandelPodcast/ Say Hello to our house band Sunny and the Black Pack! Follow them here! YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@BlackMediaPresents TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@blackmediapresents Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/01uFmntCHwOW438t7enYOO?si=0Oc-_QJdQ0CrMkWii42BWA&nd=1&dlsi=a9792af062844b4f Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SunnyAndTheBlackPack/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/blackmediapresents/ Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/blackmediapresents Twitter: twitter.com/blackmedia Long Island Medium, Theresa Caputo Talks to the Dead LIVE | Howie Mandel Does Stuff #227 https://youtu.be/vCGmfS9PYmg @howiemandel @jackelynshultz @theresacaputo

Theresa discovered her gift of talking to the dead as a young child. She shares how she finally utilized it as a young mom. We get into how her reality show on TLC came to fruition. She answers my questions about aliens, angels, hell, reincarnation and so much more. Prior to this interview she read me and I was able to connect with four of my family members, which will be released soon. This was recorded before the LA fires FYI. Enjoy this escape. Xo • Go to https://Quince.com/juicy for 365-day returns, plus free shipping on your order! • Use code JUICY for 15% off your first purchase at https://LumeDeodorant.com  • Start your initial free online visit today at https://forhers.com/JUICYSCOOP  for your personalized weight loss treatment options! Stand Up Tickets and info: https://heathermcdonald.net/ Subscribe to Juicy Scoop with Heather McDonald on iTunes, the podcast app, and get extra juice on Patreon: https://bit.ly/JuicyScoopPodApple  https://www.patreon.com/juicyscoop  Shop Juicy Scoop Merch: https://juicyscoopshop.com  Follow Me on Social Media: Instagram: https://www/instagram.com/heathermcdonald  TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@heathermcdonald  Twitter: https://twitter.com/HeatherMcDonald Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

If you're a fan of the show "Long Island Medium", then you know the star of that show, Theresa Caputo, who's our guest on this episode. Theresa is a New York Times bestselling author, whose latest book is called "GOOD MOURNING: Moving Through Everyday Losses with Wisdom from the Other Side". Theresa has been a practicing medium for many years and helps people heal and find the closure they need to embrace life without their loved ones who've passed away.  Her website is https://theresacaputo.com/ Ritual's clinically-backed Essential For Women 18+ multivitamin has high-quality, traceable key ingredients in clean, bioavailable forms.  It's gentle on an empty stomach with a minty essence that helps make taking your multi-vitamin enjoyable. Our Nobody Told Me listeners! Get 25% off your first month at ritual.com/NTM.  Start Ritual or add Essential for Women 18+ to your subscription today. Thinking about starting your own business?  Already have one?  Shopify is the all-in-one commerce platform that makes it simple for anyone to start, run and grow your own successful business.  With Shopify's single dashboard, you can manage orders, shipping and payments from anywhere.  Businesses that sell more, sell on Shopify!  Sign up for your one-dollar-per-month trial period at shopify.com/nobody  

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

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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..

If you think you are in the wrong place, you probably are.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..“Believing in yourself is not enough. You must impress that belief upon the Universe.”(Monday)My pain was legendary. Fine, my pain was epic. Okay, my pain was really bad, only exacerbated by a busy weekend. Sunday had started out fine. The girls hadn't minded being cooped up in my place for half of the day. We all worked out in the morning, which Nikita found odd. Then the young ladies explored a 'man pad', which was totally new.Loraine and Nikita developed a complex relationship. Nikita was martial enough, older and far more worldly. They conflicted over me; Loraine wouldn't accept that she'd never conquer me and Nikita was stymied by the Amazon creed involving men. Europa bonded with Timothy in all kinds of odd ways including the exploration of the world of tattooing.Aya discovered a new favorite position. I had lain belly-down on the sofa while Nikita gave me a back rub. Right after she was done, Aya climbed on top of me, laid her stomach on my back and relaxed, soaking up my scent and warmth. Only when we got them home did Loraine whisper to me that she'd never seen Aya that calm and at peace for such a continuous amount of time.That warm fuzzy, along with Nikita being downright sympathetic and attentive for the rest of her stay rolled right into Timothy's and my date Sunday night. That ended up in a 'bizarre unless you are me' frolic late Sunday night. Timothy was a fun time for Nadia, Ulyssa's older sister, then finished up their date by pretending to pass out back at their place.I'd seen Timothy drink steadily for four hours with barely a buzz. Still, that ended up with Ulyssa, Nadia and I in a three-way until one in the morning. That was when Timothy pretended to wake up and call out my name. The ladies and I wrapped up the sex session quickly and 'us' guys departed because, ya know, we had work in a few hours.Timothy even changed my bandages again. I gave him a few bills to up our medical supplies. He took a few more from my wallet because he prophesied me being wounded would be a common occurrence. He followed that up by giving me a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek."You are a lifesaver, Bro," he sighed. "My break-up left me really down and you've restored my faith in life and love. Keep it up." Then we both went to bed.I followed that up with an early wake-up call from Katrina telling me to show up thirty minutes early and report to the Medical Division. That led me to biking, one legged, through the city (Nikita and I had retrieved my bike Sunday afternoon) by dawn's early light and reporting to the witchdoctors at Havenstone. Thus my legendary, epic, really bad pain.The Doctor at Doebridge had practiced traditional Amazon healing methods. The cute chick who escorted me into the Medical Division had actually heard we were in the 21st century. She sat me on a gurney in what passed for a modern Emergency Room and had me take off my pants. Then she asked me if I wanted pain-killers, or a local anesthetic."No, I'm a man," I bragged. I saw the bewilderment in her eyes. Was I saying 'no', or was I claiming to be a weak, frail male? "It is too late for your people to be nice to me now," I clarified. "You are monsters and I accept that, so let's get this over with so we can get back to our jobs.""What are you talking about?" she tried to be disarming. Could it be she wasn't a full-blooded Amazon?#To ease my pain, show me your bountiful bosom# I said in Old Kingdom Hittite. The nice, young doctor blinked. She knew of the lingo, but not the speech itself."No on the anesthetic," I sighed. "Please work professionally and quickly so we may return to our duties, Doctor.""Of course. I'll be right back," she nodded then headed off to 'get some supplies'; in other words 'call Security'. They showed up lickety-split, doctor in tow. I recognized one from the Armory. To be polite, I let her know I recalled her."Oh, it is the Kindergarten graduate," I grinned. "Who is your lesbian playmate?""Oh goodie," Kindergarten snarled. "I get another crack at you.""Wait," the buddy cautioned her. "Shouldn't we investigate the claim that he knows an unknown tongue?" She looked to me. "Well?""The Doctor needs to leave the room," I stated."You don't tell us what to do, male," Kindy snapped."Okay, how can you verify I speak your Mother Tongue without violating some protocol if she is still in the room?" I sounded bored. Home-schooled and not in a good way."I say we beat it out of you," Kindy kept being stupid. Come on, like she was going to stumble upon a conspiracy in her lowly position, armed with her limited intellect."Bring it, Kitten," I smirked. "It's not like I'm going anywhere." The two security types drew their Tasers. I reclined onto the gurney and folded my arms over my chest."Sit up, damn you," Kindy's partner demanded."Why? So when you stun me I fall to the floor? I think I'd rather flop around on the gurney, thank you," I mused.Our conversation brought attention. A few women were starting to gather around when one pressed through. I didn't know her, but she had some familiar features."Cáel Nyilas, I am Traska Maza, Violet's sister. Come to my side," she ordered. Okay now, I didn't HAVE to obey that. Once more, a nice lady was giving me an out and I took it.I swung slowly off the gurney and hobbled to her side."Kneel," and I knelt with a grimace. "Now what is your problem with our breeding male?" she added the last part in Amazon."Wait," I blurted out. "I'm no one's breeding male yet!" In Amazon/Hittite. The crowd stirred."True and you are making it a truly glorious hunt, but we will take you as our prize in the end, Male," Traska smiled down at me while petting my hair while speaking in Amazon. Sex."He speaks the; Tongue?" the Doctor stammered."Of course he does," Traska nodded. "Otherwise it would have been quite difficult for him to refuse Hayden breeding rights on Saturday.""He refused Hayden," Kindy gawked."It is against corporate policy," I explained. "Being a good boy is getting the crap kicked out of me as it is. Heaven help me if I actually broke a rule." They chuckled; psycho bitches."Cáel, rise," so I struggled to my feet. "Go to the gurney and let the doctor tend to your battle scar," Traska commanded. As I staggered back from whence I came, the term 'battle scar' resonated to both me and the women."This does not settle the crime of him speaking our language," Kindy kept blathering."Did it occur to you to contact Elsa, or Katrina, or even the office of Hayden to gather information on what was going on," Traska sighed, "before racing to attack a wounded male in the middle of this vast structure we control? What was he going to do? Hobble over to a hurricane-proof window?""Even if he managed to somehow break one, he would be throwing himself down four floors to the sidewalk below? Admittedly, if he did accomplish all that and escape, he would be a threat. I'd still want to breed with him for that would be one tough, determined male," Traska chuckled. She walked off, the guards stood around uselessly and the doctor tended my wounds.I called Katrina, updating my situation, she called someone else, who probably called someone else, who called off the guards."So, who do you think you will be breeding with?" the doctor hinted. Seriously, I could pick up a girl in a war zone. A lonely female doctor in an ER that only treats women wasn't even a contest."Actually, no one," I winked. "I'm gay. I can't get it up around women." Recall, I had no pants on and my cockhead had a mind of its own, which didn't bother me. What did bother me was its mind being more dominant than the one on top of my shoulders. The doctor patted my package. My cock was pleading 'we haven't had sex in six hours; we are dying over here'. Lying bastard."Oh really," she teased."This is not fair," I groaned. "Your ass is so finely sculpted and tight," I couldn't see most of it because of her lab coat, but hey, "and your lips look like they could suck a golf ball through a garden hose." Be careful with the last line. Make sure your target likes fellatio first.The Doctor pursed her lips and gave me a wink. Was I lining up another prospective Havenstone woman as part of some grand master plan? No. I'm an idiot with an out of control libido. I am always hitting on women. I can't help it, thus my numerous scars and colorful stories."I can, you know," she purred. Golf ball; garden hose; feels so good.You know you are making an impact on the workplace when this happens: after leaving the doctor, I was taking the elevator up to my floor. The door opened and two women stepped in, suddenly disappointed."Oh; you are already dressed," Brielle sighed. Her companion was equally peeved."Arrow wound," I informed them. "I had to go to medical. They stripped me there.""Damn it," her companion snapped her fingers. "Maybe we should tag his itinerary?""I think Katrina would frown on that," Brielle shook her head."Well, can you take off your clothes really quick?" the companion turned to me.The door opened on my floor."Sorry. No. Gotta go to work. Have a nice day now," I retreated to the safety of the office.I'm an idiot. On all the desks in the sizable office space housing the heart of Executive Services was a long box; from Nerf. Oh, Sweet God; Buffy was out to make me cry.How did I know it was Buffy? If Desiree wanted to know something about me, she'd slap me around until I answered. Buffy was far more insidious. She'd spy on me. To give her credit, I had a box as well. I too could get that wonderful feeling that Custer's last trooper felt as the Sioux and Cheyenne closed in. Sure I could shoot back, but it wouldn't do any good.Katrina had already unboxed her toy. It was loaded, resting on her desk. It was a six shooter."Honestly Cáel, is your problem with my native tongue, an inability to tell time, or an unwillingness to follow common sense instructions?" Katrina gave me a warm, maternal look. She was referring to me engaging in strenuous activity in the first 48 hours after having been wounded."After this afternoon I do not have any other dates planned so I can take it easy," I promised."As long as you understand that many of us are risking our lives to help you keep yours," Katrina pointed out. "What did Elsa want Saturday night?" The look of shame on my face was probably what Katrina expected though not what she wanted to see. "Tell me," she groaned."Oh; okay; she kissed me once but I stopped her; against policy," I started."Yes?" Katrina muttered. She knew this was bad."Oh; then I vigorously sucked and bit on her, while fingering until she arrived; hard," I confessed. Katrina put her elbow in her desk, forearm uplifted then planted her forehead on her palm."By the Goddesses, you could walk blindfolded through a minefield only to trip over a cricket," Katrina mumbled. Katrina sensed my confusion."Elsa's and Rhada's/Madi's families are in a blood feud. They would kill you for looking amorously at the other," she explained."Whoops; I didn't make either one like me," I pleaded."I believe you, Cáel," Katrina looked up and smiled. "If I didn't, I would have Desiree toss you down an elevator shaft; from the thirtieth floor.""It wouldn't work," I grinned at her. "I'm part flying squirrel. I've got those little underarm flaps and everything.""Patagium," Katrina defined that bit of anatomy for me."Stop being smarter than me," I furrowed my brow. "It is unattractive in a female." Wack; Nerf hit. Right then Daphne and Tigger walked in and took in the situation."Can we all take shots at Cáel?" Daphne inquired. Oh hell no!"I'm actually recruiting a Rebel Alliance," I offered."What's in it for us?" Tigger asked."Dubious glory, improbable hope, an unfamiliar future and the unique experience of pitting your defiance into the Eye of the Abyss before the End," I promised in Old Kingdom Hittite.

Dare to Dream with Debbi Dachinger Guest, Tamara Caulder Richardson, known as an Evidential Psychic Medium and a 6x Near-Death Experiencer, Contactee, UFO Experiencer, Evidential Medium, and Conscious Channeler. Tamara is the South's version of, “The Long Island Medium.” Tamara is a 6x Near-Death Experiencer, and Christ & Angelic channeler.

Episode 436 // A special episode to talk to Theresa Caputo, the Long Island Medium! She tells us all about her live shows and Slater even asks if anyone is trying to contact us during the interview!

Episode 435 // Alas, this is the finale for 4... kind of. We will have one more episode with a special guest, THE LONG ISLAND MEDIUM! So, stay tuned for that. But, this is the final update for Baby Boy and Melissa before she leaves for a few months on leave.

Talk with Deceased Loved Ones & Embrace Intuitive Gifts, with "Long Island Medium" Theresa Caputo! The LEGENDARY Long Island Medium, Theresa Caputo, answers all of your questions about the afterlife - PLUS she gives Mayim and Jonathan a reading from the BEYOND!!  We're diving into spiritual connections, intuitive powers, and Theresa's extraordinary journey from an empathic, spirit-sensitive child to world-renowned medium. Theresa opens up about her understanding of people's skepticism about her abilities, what finally allowed her to embrace her gift in order to help others, what she's been shown happens when we die, and why she thinks we can all have the ability to connect with our deceased loved ones! She reflects on what it was like to grow up feeling and sensing things others didn't (including seeing people that weren't there), the anxiety and spiritual crisis she endured before she learned to embrace and hone her gift, how she decides when to deliver a message from beyond or not, the concept of "soul transfer", and her thoughts on past life regressions. Theresa also breaks down:- What happens when she comes across dark energies- Importance of grounding techniques- Her role as a partner in helping people process their grief- Her other abilities as an empath- Reasons why we may not be connecting with the soul of a departed loved one despite our best efforts- Her experiences connecting with people in comas & her take on NDE's- Results of the brain scan Dr. Daniel Amen performed on her and what it confirms about her abilities And STAY TUNED to the end for Theresa's reading of Jonathan and his abilities!  See THERESA CAPUTO LIVE: THE EXPERIENCE: https://theresacaputo.com/pages/live-events BialikBreakdown.comYouTube.com/mayimbialik

Roz shivers with anticipation as she welcomes comedian, writer, co-host of Seek Treatment, and friend Pat Regan! Sheltered in velvety shadows, the two discuss the psychics of The Real Housewives, the story of an ICONIC tween coven, and a rare sighting of THE Long Island Medium—at a comedy festival audition?! Want to share YOUR paranormal experience on the podcast? Email your *short* stories to GhostedByRoz@gmail.com and maybe Roz will read it out loud on the show... or even call you! Be sure to follow the show @GhostedByRoz on Instagram. Support this podcast by shopping our latest sponsor deals and promotions at this link: https://bit.ly/3WwYCsr Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We spilled some tea about someone spilling some pee on a couch in 2012 and before that we talked about the Long Island Medium and airplane pukers and JVN losing dogs and Maye Musk and Bill Gates robbing a train and how it would be cool to get paid to watch Louis CK masturbate all day so he leaves women alone   Full episode at https://www.patreon.com/ChapoFYM

Hold onto your remotes, Reality TV aficionados, because Amanda Bella is here to spill the hottest brew from the world of unscripted drama! I'm taking you behind the scenes of "Married at First Sight," where the tension is as thick as my grandma's gravy, and revealing why Decision Day is the moment your heart's been waiting for. We're not just hanging out at the altar though; I'm guiding you through the raw intensity of Lifetime's documentaries and the glam chaos of Bravo, tipping my hat to fan favorites like "90 Day Fiancé" and the always-surprising "Long Island Medium."Next up, we're talking "Love Is Blind," and let me tell you, the tea is scalding! From Jeremy's jaw-dropping engagement to Laura's colossal Apple Watch bust, we're dissecting the tangled web of love and deception. But wait, there's more – I've got the dirt on the Bravo universe, including the "Tom Sandoval Narcissist Debate." Are we all just feeding the reality TV beast? Hear my take on the controversy and decide for yourself. Plus, we're heading to "Summer House," where new faces and age-old tensions promise a smorgasbord of drama you won't want to miss.Finally, strap in for a deep dive into the complexities of reality TV relationships and the impact they have when the cameras aren't rolling. I've got personal anecdotes that'll have you questioning everything you thought you knew about your favorite TV couples. Are Kyle and Mauricio from "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" really the power couple they appear to be? And what's really going on behind the closed doors of the "Summer House?" From heated debates to heartwarming moments, join me for an unfiltered look at the lives that keep us binge-watching late into the night.***SORRY ABOUT THE AUDIO GUYS, MY FIRST BIG FLUB AS A PODCASTER BC MY MIC WASNT EVEN PLUGGED IN!! LOL LOVE YOU ALL!Support the showFollow me @BellaTalksTV

The Georgia's are really messing with the vibe of the All Stars villa! Georgia Harrison is playing Long Island Medium and Ms. Steele is sinking quickly into the destructive quicksand that is Toby. Our new bombshells coupled up for the first time and we are sat and ready for the Kaz and Casey show! Join our patreon for extra content every week! https://www.patreon.com/notfriendshipislandpod Follow us on Instagram for all the INFI updates you could dream of! https://www.instagram.com/notfriendshipislandpod/ If you are loving our recaps and going on this Love Island journey with us, please subscribe and rate us 5-stars! For all business inquiries email us at sarah@muckaboutindustries.com

Bachelor Joey Graziadei is just a couple weeks into his journey to find love, and he's getting candid on whether he felt love at first sight that first night at the mansion. Then, “Modern Family” star Sofía Vergara makes a huge transformation into one of the most violent cartel queenpins in history in “Griselda,” and she shares how the dark role took quite the toll on her personal life. Plus, Long Island medium Theresa Caputo is back, and she gives “Extra” the latest on her new show and her love life. Be sure to follow so you'll never miss an episode. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

“Long Island Medium” star Theresa Caputo is doing readings of audience members and staff to connect them with their loved ones. Drew and Ross Mathews are covering today's hottest headlines. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Thank you for being part of the conversation. This is Play It Forward. Real people. Real stories. The struggle to Play It Forward Episode 611 With The Internationally known Medium Theresa Caputo The beloved Long Island medium Theresa Caputo is returning to television – this time for 20 episodes of Lifetime's all-new series, Theresa Caputo: Raising Spirits. The show follows Theresa as she explores the next phase of her personal life and embarks on a much-anticipated tour, including sold-out shows in London, for Theresa Caputo Live! The Experience. The three-time New York Times bestselling author will share her incredible gift with viewers while balancing new family dynamics like divorce and becoming a grandmother.No topic will go uncovered in the new show: from spending time as a devoted friend, mother, daughter, grandma, to many exciting first-time adventures. She'll celebrate her son's wedding, help her daughter adjust to motherhood, visit with her parents next door…and channel her share of spirits for others.