Life as a New Hire Ch. 46

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

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

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

But, it gets worse. Much worse.

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

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

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

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

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

But wait - it gets worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? No. I can die."

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

Of course, her idea was insane ... OH GOD NO! I was in Grandad's body. Well DUH! HIS BODY was supposed to be immortal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, but why would I?"

"Sex?"

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

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

"Where is the flesh?" she whispered.

"In his mortal children," I replied.

"Who?"

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

"Why would the Amazons do this?"

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

"Why?"

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

"Your mother's father?"

"Yes. Cáel O'Shea of the Illuminati."

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

"You are at war with Cáel O'Shea."

"He was slain."

"He didn't stay dead."

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

"Absolutely."

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

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

"What would make you think that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Panting ... not from us ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[DOT AND THE DRAGONESS]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wrong. I've got thousands of years of Alal boiling around in my head ... PLUS the rest of you betrayed her 2600 years ago. It doesn't mean I have to. And now, given the chance, I'm not. Even if you kill me, she's got enough to go on to eventually figure out what I know without me," I ground out. Wakefulness was drawing me back.