Life as a New Hire Ch. 21

She nodded. She didn't understand yet she wanted to remain sympathetic.

"I'm playing catch up in an incredibly lethal chess match," I continued. "My advantage is I'm not fuck-nuts crazy like the rest of you people. I don't mean to insult you. I simply want to make it clear how I feel. All the societies are spiritually malformed blights on reality; evil, twisted and predatory."

"But you like us," she observed.

"I'm going to Hell," I risked much by brushing her nose with my finger from brow to the edge of the veil. "I might as well enjoy the journey." Since I returned with all the fingers I started out with, I could tell she appreciated my caress.

Our other guests were getting restless, so I had to end our interaction there. A lone man approached. He looked to be a Turkish/Mongolian mixture and he was uncomfortable with the way the situation had developed. I doubt I had offended him. It was much more the scope of this informal meeting had gone way above his pay grade.

As he was from the Earth & Sky, the Amazons' hostility simmered. I countered that by being as civil as possible. The emissary, Iskender, gave his condolences, I thanked him for his respect and entered into a small conversation. When he figured out who the Magyar were, he smiled. Iskender was a Kyrgyz, a Turkish people from Central Asia, and we bonded over our male progenitors having saddled up on our nomad ponies, making Eurasia tremble.

I was putting forth the effort to make him feel welcome. That was the message for him to take home. Not all the Amazons were going to have their knee-jerk reaction to the E&S's goal. Next came the Seven Pillars, mainly because the Egyptians seemed ready to wait for the grass to devour them before coming my way. Now I had to pillage the vaults of my crafty interpersonal skills to do this correctly.

Two men, endowed with as much racial supremacy as Ursula, if not more, introduced themselves. Slight bowing, polite English and the proper, rehearsed words flowed from their mouths. They didn't look down on me; the reason being that behind their perfect civility, they considered me and mine to be inconsequential. The nice female of an indeterminate South Asian lineage had that haunted look of someone made to do horrible things just to survive.

A flash of the macabre dumped a memory of her strangling homeless people in some back alleys with barbed wire - so it would hurt them both - training, Seven Pillars style.

"Thank you for paying your respects at my father's grave," I started. They hadn't, btw. "I only ask for two things, please," I added humbly.

"May I see her palms for a moment?" I asked the man. The woman was clearly a servant - some sort of Palace Guard/Fuck Slave. The leader nodded. The girl was never consulted. Her hands came forward and they rolled so that I saw the scars on her palm - fuck you, Ishara. I don't want to care about her. My day planner was more than full with anguish as it was. No answer.

"I appreciate it," I smiled. I waited, keeping eye contact.

"Was there something else?" the leader finally gave in.

"Oh yes," I smiled and nodded. "Don't get in our way. Behave, stay put on that rotting, rubble pile of a decadent and faded civilization you call Heaven and let us do what needs to be done."

"Is that clear enough, or do I need to send you both home with your irradiated testicles in jars?" I kept politely smiling and nodding. I was threatening to make them eunuchs with the bonus of having their precious genetics rendered useless. The girl was giving off minute reactive tremors. That was okay. I had been anything, but quiet. Twenty Amazons were ready and willing to make my threat a reality.

I wasn't sure how they would break into Fermi Labs for the radiological material, but their resourcefulness never failed to amaze me. The two guys from the Seven Pillars were standing there, not sure what to do next. I had insulted and threatened them - emissaries. Didn't they realize Amazons had been killing poor bastards entreating them for peace for several millennia?

"Beat it," I snapped with authority. "I'm done with you. Take my words back to your masters and pray they excuse your gutless reaction. Don't let the airport hit you in the ass." Ugly American? I was the God Damn Bearded Woman/Dog Boy American and their facades were finally fraying around the edges and not the least because going home and telling their bosses my exact words was going to be...well, the positive spin they put on it had better be impressive.

They left with their confident poise while the Egyptians approached with a bit of trepidation. Calling me erratic and volatile was being overly kind. My bet was the older male was in charge, but my age and lusty actions convinced them to put the younger woman forward. The younger male bodyguard wasn't even paying attention to me. If the shit went south, he knew he was a goner.

"Greetings Cáel Ishara, it seems," she offered my hand to shake.

[Old Kingdom Egyptian] "May the Blessed Isis bring understanding to this greeting," I countered. Both she and the old man blinked. The rest was in the Egyptian of Ramses and Seti.

"It is wonderful to see you speak our sacred tongue - or a close proximity," she smiled.

Not only was she generally happy, she was also pretty sure a very unfortunate confrontation was not in the offing. The bodyguard knew of the language but not enough to make out what was being said. The young lady and old man were more than happy to switch to this rare form of communication.

We chatted. Things like funerary rites, thoughts on the afterlife and the role of the supernatural in the modern world all came up. No secrets were exchanged and we actually went over some ancient jokes and ribald tales. Buffy's coughing brought us out of our reverie. They taught me the proper Egyptian Rite greeting and farewell, departing in peace.

The Amazons were stirring. It was time to head to the cars then on to the wake.

"I do not understand you," Javiera grumbled. "You insulted multiple people, including threats of death and dismemberment. You struck and stabbed - something, but not before he knocked a women nearly three meters. I am not even sure that...relative of yours qualifies as human."

"I don't know how to approach you and that woman/aunt/whatever," she continued. "Was that incest, public sex, or sexual assault since I didn't hear her give permission for you to do...that?" Whoops - jealousy. Nicole was a half-step back so she could hide her insidious smirk. She already knew I was a bad, bad boy.

"I don't know if this makes it better, or worse, but that - those women are not just my aunts. They are the genetic duplicates of my mother and if you think it is funny that they look to be about my age...you wouldn't be alone," I sighed.

"Is your mother dead?" she seethed. "Normally, I would take a Death Certificate, mortuary report and a grave marker to be enough. Not with you."

"When I was seven years old I saw her very sick in the hospital. I never saw her die, or the cremation, so with my crazy life I'm not going to swear that she's no longer of this Earth," I confessed. "The only one who would know for sure would be..."

"Your father," Javiera answered. I began crying all over again.

That was it. When I wanted someone dead, I was going to personally put a stake in their hearts, starting with me. This shit has gone down the rabbit hole. In that transitory micro-burst, I flipped. Not to crazy. I had spent my life believing in what was real - working out, girls, books, literature and art - things I could touch and feel, even if it was the air escaping my lungs as words, notes and sounds sprang forth.

Now I had to take things on faith. Not 'faith' as in the calculated possibilities which is what most people really meant. I had to accept that there were things beyond my senses that I could not measure, or codify, and move my life forward understanding the total lack of a solid foundation I was basing my actions on. I needed to see Aya so much it hurt.

"Are you going to arrest me?" I hiccupped. I was done bawling like a bereft child for a while.

"For what?" Javiera snapped. "If I took this insanity before any judge I know, I'd be on Administrative Leave, if not out of a job altogether."

"Oh yes," Nicole winked at me. "I was so looking forward to parading out the four identical aunts and the uncle/part-primate."

Javiera shot Nicole a dirty look.

"We need to go," Buffy reminded me. The only snag was the FBI guys, backed up by some Chicago PD, who intercepted Javiera as she walked with me to our limo. She had to separate for a minute to assure them she hadn't been kidnapped.

After some rumbling, we were gifted with one FBI 'bodyguard' for Javiera. That was laughable. If a psychotic fit seized us, there would be two dead government officials instead of one.

"Did you really stab that guy?" Special Agent Street Moslin asked once we were on our way.

"My family believes in tough love," I muttered.

"What sort of organized crime outfit are you with?" was next.

"Pre-teen beauty pageants," I sighed. "You wouldn't believe how cutthroat they are."

"It is a crime to lie to a criminal investigator," he countered.

"And if this was an interrogation," Nicole sizzled, "you would have to Mirandize him."

"He has already been Mirandized," the puppy yipped.

"Oh? On the charge of Criminal Conspiracy to commit...clarify the charge for me," Nicole grinned. Street looked to Javiera.

"What? Special Agent Moslin, consider yourself to not know a damn thing about what is going on and proceed from there," Javiera informed him.

The poor bastard looked perplexed.

"I will put your situation in context. The woman to my side (Rachel) is about to slit your throat. The woman (Buffy) next to Ms. Lawless is going to snap your neck. They do not give a crap that you, or I, are federal agents. The issue is not what will you do, it is which one gets to you first," Javiera glared at him. "Clear?"

SA Street wasn't done yet.

"They will get away with it because I suspect they already have such a contingency worked out," Javiera educated him. Javiera was yet ANOTHER really clever lady.

"Call for our back-up vehicle, pull into a private driveway where you cannot legally follow us, abandon the vehicle, get picked up and leave the city on a private aircraft to another nation," Rachel sounded bored. That was so nice of her to assist Javiera out that way.

"Thank you," I told Rachel. "That was very helpful of you."

"I want the male to shut-up," Rachel answered. "He's grating. Worse, he's making me wish Pamela was with us and that is soooo wrong." I held up a finger to forestall Street.

"Honestly Dude, she's is not messing with your head. She wants you to shut up, so please be quiet," I urged him. I conceptualized the assessment he was making. Crap.

"Guy, whatever workout routine you think gives you the edge is what she does to warm up in the morning," I pleaded. Street had the 'she's only a girl' look about him. "Her combat training is with live rounds, real weapons and a plethora of scrapes, cuts and broken bones. I have little doubt that she's killed people, some in cold blood."

"You being Top Shot at the local range and a Judo Champ isn't going to cut it," I emphasized.

"You think she's some kind of Special Forces operator?" he mocked me. Javiera and Nicole got nervous. I didn't. Beginner's Amazon Psychology - male opinions do not matter. Rachel and Buffy weren't insulted because he was a chattering chimp and nothing more.

"Have you ever heard of an all-female Special Forces unit?" I prodded.

"No," he snorted. I kept staring...and staring...and then the idea began creeping in.

"Where do you train?" Street looked at Rachel. Rachel was looking at him, not 'at' him.

"Please Rachel," I requested. That was really for Javiera's benefit.

"Physical training started at age five, weapons training at nine, survival testing at twelve, craft training at fifteen, and acceptance at nineteen," she rattled off in a monotone. "I am thirty."

"What is 'craft training'?" Javiera inquired.

"Learning to kill people and destroy things," she began.

"My specialties are small unit tactics, security operations, electronic countermeasures and Recon Sniper," Rachel replied. "I am an accepted close combat trainer and handheld weapon expert. Do I need to explain any of that?" Pause. Street snorted.

"Do you ever sleep?" Street joked. Rachel looked to me then rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Six hours - every day unless duty intervenes," she said.

"Right...so, what martial arts style do you practice?" he asked.

"Not one you have ever heard of," Rachel took a deep breath.

"Try me," Street entreated. "I've practiced with several."

"Male, do I look like I enjoy talking to you?" Rachel glared. "To alleviate your obvious confusion, I do not. If you wish to lower the hostility level, hand me your pistol and the sap at your back. Your possession of said weapons in the presence of Cáel complicates my job. This is almost as irritating is restraining myself from taking them from you like the infant you are."

"You think you could?" Street challenged her. "I was with the 82nd Airborne in Afghanistan."

"Special Agent Moslin, she doesn't care. You might as well have told her you were a weekend security guard at an amusement park," I reasoned. "In her mind, being born with a penis renders all your accomplishments so much hyperbole - kind of how her having tits lowered your respect for her as a fighter." That successful ended that diversion.

(The wake)

Life was wonderful. I walked in the door of the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion, Charlotte pulled me into a vacant side room and handed me a secure phone. She mouthed the name of the person on the other end.

"Hayden," I sighed to my High Priestess.

"Ishara (not using my first name was a bad sign), I have heard a report that you have declared war on the Condotteiri," she gave me the 'I'm going to skin you alive' purr.

"Yep and I urinated on the Seven Pillars too," I confirmed. "Don't worry about the Illuminati. I've got that alliance sown up."

"I'm going to have a member of the Nine Clans give me my first born, Ishara daughter, so that prospective alliance looks good as well," I added. "I even managed to be diplomatic with Earth & Sky. It is not even noon yet either. No need to thank me. Knowing you are thinking passionate thoughts about me is enough." Charlotte looked like her eyes were going to bug out.

"We are clear on the fact that there are fifty two other houses in the House, aren't we Cael?" Hayden murmured.

"Hey now," I reposed, "you said to not pick a fight inside Havenstone. You didn't say anything about these sons of bitches on the outside. I also added nineteen new members. Ishara rejected one who I now think was a closet Man-hater's man-hater."

"I want you to come back to Havenstone immediately and keep your mouth shut," she commanded. "The Council will be rightly furious."

"With me?" I asked.

"Of course with you," Hayden growled.

"With the aid of the Federal Assistant Attorney, I received computer discs with extensive and sensitive data on Havenstone, including pictures and locations of Sydney and Marilynn, your daughter and granddaughter," I lied. "The feds seized the Condotteiri's private jet." Silence.

"What? Why am I only now hearing of this?" Hayden inquired with a deathly calm.

"Do you want me to work with the feds to finish hunting down those last two killers while I send someone back with the data?" I persisted. An oddly longer pause.

"Katrina insists there is no data," Hayden seethed.

"Of course there is no data," I snapped back. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to EVERY MEMBER of the Host, not just the ones I approve of! If I had something that important, it would be on the way to you, if not already in your hands. My House Head has been murdered. Support me - don't support me. It doesn't change that reality. You have lowered your worth in my eyes, Hayden. We will talk of this when I return." And I hung up. Charlotte kept gaping at me.

"Do you think I was clear enough, Charlotte?" I asked her.

"Yes Ishara," she whispered. "I doubt a single ancestor misconstrued your wrath." That stopped me in my tracks. A rank and file Amazon using my house name was perfectly acceptable. A Council 'equal' saying it was the equivalent of your pissed Mom yelling out your entire name.

"You agree with me?" I blinked.

"Had it been Fatima, Beyoncé, or Ngozi there would be no debate," Charlotte answered. "I don't like you - okay, beyond your physical magnetism I do not like you. You are still the Head of House Ishara and we believe that the ancestors move through you." By 'we' I imagine she meant Rachel's SD detachment. A social paradigm presented itself.

Amazons were surprisingly democratic for such an ancient society. Their bonds of sisterhood gave them greater liberty than any other group I'd heard of. All could take their grievances to the highest authority. They could hate me and die for me at the same time, in the same way Charlotte could be honest at that moment. I was her superior in rank yet her equal in blood.

"You realize that if you tell Buffy about this she'll beat me black and blue," I teased Charlotte.

"No can do, Ishara," she chuckled. "She's your sister and, quite frankly, you wove this disaster and if anyone deserves to remind you of the trouble you've wrought, it is her."

"I would call you a heartless Amazon, but that's kind of redundant," I glowered playfully.

I couldn't hide with Charlotte in the side room forever. It was my father's wake after all. Out I went and there was Buffy waiting for me.

"We have a problem," Buffy murmured to me as I headed to the main reception area/family room. "There are some questions concerning your Aunt Stella and the Ishara legacy."

"Thank God," I muttered. My crisis was momentarily sidelined. I moved into the gathering, letting Helena and Buffy bring the Amazon to my corner. "Quick and easy," I stated as the last one joined us. "Okay, that's an exaggeration. According to the Shawnee Arinniti, the Ishara/Vranus line passes along the Y-chromosome."

"How that translates to my daughters having the Ishara bloodline...Shawnee smiled at me and said it would happen, by the Will of the Ancestors," I looked them over. They weren't born Amazons so they didn't bob their heads in blind acceptance. "Yeah, me to," I acknowledged their cynicism.

"Except I ended up on Day Two of this job, standing in the Havenstone boardroom, listening to women talking in a dead language I learned solely to arouse my first lover and mentor. Then I encouraged a little Amazon girl to shoot AT me while I stood next to her target. She was so nervous, her first shot fell short and skidded to my feet.

Her second arrow hit the mark - her first hit of the day. I didn't want that first arrow to remind her of 'almost' succeeding, so I picked it up. Because of that, an assassin barely missed her first shot at me. I stopped Oneida Arinniti's death curse - not because I had any idea there was such a thing, but because it felt 'wrong' to let her die. Make of that what you will.

You all have one incredible advantage over all Amazons born into the Host. Search back to your time before here and examine what you know about men. Then tell me why I would want this position? You are a legion of man-haters. At best, you do not want to understand me. At worse, you think I should be a pet with my tongue cut out.

Some of you may think it could be for the sex. No. I had over 200 sexual encounters over four years in college. If anything, Havenstone is slowing me down. After all, even the Havenstone women who do like me still consider me property half the time and some SD chicks swooping in during lunch can put a real cramp in my dating style."