Life as a New Hire Ch. 46

"SzélAnya, all I ask is when he comes back, you give the rest of us a chance," I pleaded. "Please don't forget the loyalty and love a small fragment of mankind has shown you."

No reply.

"I need a moment with Dot," I mumbled. Concentrating was becoming difficult. I heard the rustling of scales as she moved off.

"Dot," I reached out. It took her a moment. I hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear. "You must reunite Sakuniyas and Anat."

"Anat is but a shadow of what she once was," Dot Ishara's breath played out on my cheek.

"It is the best shot we have," I urged her. "I have the secret of creating avatars like the Cult of the Jaguar does ... if we could unite the remains of her power and her sole surviving ..." I pressed a fortune cookie into Dot's hand then finished tumbling forward.

My final piece of the puzzle wasn't from Alal, or a co-conspirator. It was from Dr. Kimberly Geisler and her stories of ancient love and loves lost. In virtually all ancient mythologies, dragon-slayers were male, except one ... and that was Anat, the Slayer of Litanu/Leviathan ~ the Amazonian Berserker Queen. She'd also killed the personification of Death, which might come in handy.

History had robbed her of a future until the Weave had tossed us back her once devoted follower, Sērkuēn aka Sakuniyas, lover of Alal ... and since Illuyankamunus's very existence put him on a collision course with Grandpa ... I was once more counting on love to (almost) save the day or (I hoped) avenge Alal once Illuyankamunus had re-written reality to remove Sarrat Irkalli's 'Deathless' curse and then either killed him, or paved the way for one of the avenging Cult divinities to take him out.

[BACK IN THE RAMBLE]

"... really expect me to believe ..." Nikita's mom was growling.

"Man down," I waved a weak arm skyward.

"Mr. Nyilas, what is going on here?" the Sergeant addressed me. I was reclining in a circle of my 'Hounds'; most were kneeling. Chaz was in a tiny bit of trouble for having clocked me.

"Ummm ... thanks for coming out and looking for me. I assure you, Mr. Tomorrow did what he did as a matter of his professional duties ~ intelligence gathering." As I struggled to stand, my ladies helped me. I saw Pamela with three Hounds coming up fast from one direction and Virginia with three more coming from the other. The gang was all here.

The mutterings in non-English tongues suggested a bit of explaining was already going on.

"You've been bleeding," Nikita pointed out with an unspoken 'again'.

"This?" I pulled my shirt out and looked at the first bloodstain of my encounter. "This is the just the start of the bad news." I shed my windbreaker and then t-shirt.

The professionals shouldered aside the others to take a closer look.

"All of these are from noon and less than an hour ago," I identified the damage. Sarge was skeptical. Chaz, Nikita and Virginia less so.

"They look older," the senior lawman noted.

"I've been curious about that," Chaz frowned.

"I've inherited my Grandfather's curse. My soul fragment was in the 'Here and Now' twenty-three years ago while his was ... 'over there', so I was allowed to come into creation. According to my recently departed guest ..."

"You are immortal," Virginia mumbled to finish the thought. Had the speaker not been a member of the FBI, who knows how the thought would have been received.

"From the memories I've been gifted with," I tapped the tiny divot on my forehead, "his healing abilities started out rather slowly too. I certainly don't want to test this theory, so no worries there," I scanned the group.

"How do you explain seeing your Grandfather in Hungary and again in Rome?" Virginia wondered.

"Again, that woman who just left ..." I got out.

"Was no woman," Nuray, another one of my Turkish Hounds interrupted. "Her eyes..." she tried to explain, "and look what she did to that tree," she pointed to the greatest piece of evidence of supernatural wrongdoing. The other two witnesses nodded.

"We all saw the same thing. Her eyes were ... bottomless ... definitely not human," Belgin affirmed. The veteran players looked to Chaz.

"She had a collapsed nose-bridge - lacked a blink response - her dental work was carnivorous and her tongue was extremely clipped and showed prehensile qualities," he reported calmly. Pause. Chaz WAS a freaking intelligence operative, after all.

"If her hands were a type of glove weaponry, I've never seen its like before. While I know it is possible for a human to exert the force-pounds necessary to snap a two inch diameter tree trunk in one blow, it is a rare skill and requires intense discipline. This appeared to be done spontaneously, without preparation of any kind and as a reaction to other stimuli," he added.

"It was also your assessment he needed to be knocked unconscious?" Nikita's mom countered.

"Mr. Nyilas' psychological constructs are something the whole team has to work around. At times, he seeks 'insight' from his mind in a deliberately unconscious/non-sleep state," he replied.

"He claims to be talking with spirit powers. I know when he returns to consciousness, he delivers useful intelligence. I'm not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or psychic. I don't know why his mind functions that way. I do know results. And I know I work with people who would achieve those results by other means if it were at all possible. Since we haven't found another method, we accept that from time to time, Mr. Nyilas will be rendered unconscious for the benefit of the team."

"So you would beat him to death for 'results'?" she squared off with the Brit.

"No. That is horribly simplistic, Ms. Kutuzov," Chaz exhaled evenly. "I value Cáel's life deeply. Not only is he a genuinely decent human being, his actions have saved millions of lives. It is not a matter of hurting him in order to save one life, or five, or ten. It is never that clear-cut. I know Cáel is in his right mind and trying to make a difference. I owe it to him to support him when I can."

"Today, right now, it means I fulfilled a requirement for his inner psychic workings. Had he been confused, or near death, I would have refused. As your daughter can explain better than I, working with Cáel Nyilas gives 'complicated' a whole new meaning."

Nikita nodded vigorously.

"Fine," Sarge folded her arms. To me: "Maybe you can explain what the panic is all about."

"This will make as much sense as the plot of A Stranger Gets Mean," I rolled my shoulders. I was putting my shirt back on, buying time.

"Which one is that?" Pamela gave me a twist of the lips ~ a smirk-in-training.

"The last of the A Stranger films with Tony Anthony," I smiled her way.

"The one with the sneaky gunslinger, the Princess, the Moors and the generic barbarian horde?"

"Yeah."

"How can you know ... ah, in the first film - the girl with the whip," Pamela got snarky.

"Don't obfuscate the question," Sarge persisted.

"I'm not. How does a young man not know Unforgiven, which won four Academy Awards, yet knows all four of the A Stranger films, which I'm sure no one else here has ever heard of," Pamela grinned at the other older woman.

"Maybe, kinda, sorta and it was at a film festival in Keene," I supplied the alternate answer.

"Sgt. Kutuzov, I work with horrible people and the best reason I can think of to keep going back to work is around me right now," I let my eyes flicker from her steely gaze to the assembly. "The truth is, I was in danger and at a moment's notice, seventeen people showed up to help. That I worked my way through the dilemma before you arrived doesn't diminish, in my eyes, what so many were willing to do on my behalf."

"So ..."

"So, the women is evil and part of the leadership of a faction your government is allied with in the goings-on elsewhere around the globe. By evil, I mean ritualized rape to breed future pawns for their struggle, plus human sacrifice and blood offerings on a regular basis, in addition to the usual bad. I had to impress upon her I was going to be a useful ally," and heading off the accusing looks, "and in a manner which went way beyond bedroom antics.

"See, it turns out my side is inadvertently doing shit which could bring about the end of the world," I lathered it on. "No lie. Don't trust me. Trust the look in the eyes of people who know and work with me." I let the Hounds and Sarge do just that. "So, the people we are fighting, are trying to save the world, but for their own selfish ends ... which don't work out well for anyone standing in this circle we have today."

"So, I have to balance keeping my side safe ~ thus endangering existence ~ and stop our opposition, yet keep them in play long enough to tie up the forces actually trying to destroy all life on Earth, at least until I can deal with them too. That has been my afternoon so far," I finished up.

Yep. I was a nutty-nut bar slathered in nut crumbs and buttered in nut oil. Then the 'sane' folks looked at the other supposedly 'sane' folks who doubled as my co-workers. Even Nikita, who hadn't been 'read-in' to most of what JIKIT did, was nodding along, totally accepting my blathering's as gospel.

"Special Agent Maddox, is it?" Mamma Kutuzov turned on the one other adult she might respect - the Federal law-dog.

"Sergeant, I've seen things I'm unsure about. Of greater importance, I've seen otherwise completely sane, rational people behave inexplicably around Cáel, for both good and ill."

"Would I stand in front of the Head of the FBI and testify Cáel Nyilas Wakko Ishara was a supernatural entity ... I'm afraid I would. I can't pinpoint any precise act. It is more how those who know him react to things he does which he shouldn't be able to do, telling us things he has no rational explanation to know and speaking in languages he's never been known to be in contact with before," Virginia forged ahead.

"Then you take in the evaluations of the other 'normal' people we work with - people like the Colour Sergeant here and Special Agent Loire. When service professionals start referring to the people in the field they are working with as 'Ninja'. Or how the Great Khan, a man Cáel's age, ruthlessly leads one of the largest nation's on Earth and considers Cáel his brother ..." she left her thoughts about the Great Khan dangling.

"So your engagement to this Sulkanen woman is politically-based," Mamma turned on me. Oh, the 'had I been toying with Nikita' question.

"I don't look at it that way," I met her stare. "Hana has been working overtime to make our union something more than a hollow parody. Sadly, my grotesque life is relentless and maturity is not something I ever had planned to embrace."

"Now I'm looking at fatherhood times eleven ..." I got out in a wistful tone.

"Eleven?" multiple voices chorused.

"One is with Hana," I aimed at Nikita and Nikita's mom. The pace of my declaration meant I wasn't a Lothario, or dead-beat Dad. I was happy about having children, unhappy about marriage, yet accepting my 'screw-ups' as my responsibilities.

"This is because you are the last of your bloodline?" Flannery questioned.

"I don't like thinking of my sons and daughters that way, but yes. Of my Father's family, outside his unmarried sister, I'm it. I am also expected to establish alliances with other entities and often the only value we share is our love of our offspring."

"Is anyone else 'contributing'?" Mamma persisted. Pamela frowned. Not good.

"Havenstone is notorious for not sharing, working poorly with others and for holding male lives valueless, so until my arrival, such deals were not possible. Within Havenstone, they do have the custom of adopting daughters," I hurried things along. "Within the other two groups we are allying with, such blood exchanges are more common."

"Is this practice going to stop when you are married?"

"No."

"Mom," Nikita intervened, "Cáel isn't leading these women on. I admit his, and their, behavior is odd. His whole life is rather inexplicable. You'd have to see him interacting with his co-workers to understand how much words fail to describe what it's like around him."

"Nikita, we can start by talking about these twelve," Mamma took in my Hounds with a sweeping arm gesture, "European girls showing up at the drop of a hat, plus my long history dealing with Marilyn St. James and Desiree Fredrickson - both of whom I have suddenly stopped seeing... right after he showed up in their lives. I know Mr. Nyilas - Cáel - is miles beyond what you find in the pages of the New York Times. I'm worried about you."

"Wonderful. Let's get out of here," Pamela began to corral us. As we began moving along, Virginia pulled out her phone and gave 'work' a call: They'd found me and I was okay. Me? I couldn't chat at the moment. I had a 3:30 pm with Oneida (and Shawnee for some portion of the meeting no doubt; I was making her a grandmother).

"I've been talking with Pamela and I may have a way out of your conundrum with these twelve," Chaz sidled up to me. The twelve in question were in hushed conversation in four languages, going over what the first three had seen.

"Yes?" I looked his way. He seemed especially serious.

"Yes. We Tomorrows have a few people schooled in the military arts. Notably, my Uncle Mason - former SAS with 30 years in, my cousin Tanwen Tomorrow - has been a staff instructor for the Honorable Artillery Company (she was not an artillerists), my older sister Estelle ~ now a Carew - former Royal Marines and my older brother Todd - former SRR - are all currently capable of doing you, me and the world a favor."

"They'd train my ... Hounds? Not kill them?"

"As you pointed out, there is more to a person than physical strength. There is character and willingness to dare. There is a spirit of adventure and a desire to risk not only their lives, but save the lives of the woman next to them. Fighting skills, endurance and discipline can be instilled with the proper training and motivation. You provide the motivation. Let my clan provide the rest," Chaz offered.

"Who will I owe?"

"Me and mine, Cáel. You are the Head of an Amazon First House, Blood-brother to the Great Khan, Diplomat of the Host, father to a wonderful little girl and grandson to a woman who is as much family to me as anyone born of my blood, or who I have ever had the pleasure to spill blood beside," he confided.

"Okay."

"Do me a favor?" he asked softly.

"Sure."

"I think I might be a father. Getting her to talk about it - isn't happening and this isn't something I can ask Pamela to look into," he requested. Chaz had been banging one of the SD ladies assigned to JIKIT's protection force. A man of Chaz's character wasn't the type to mosey through the available herd. No, he'd picked one and, since things had worked out, he'd loyally stuck with her.

Neither lover would mention 'word-one' about a commitment. And if she was pregnant, it was easy to conclude she would believe it was none of his concern. If it was a male, we wouldn't know until ... month four and a half, or five ...

"Name?"

"Tavi Gentry, of House Stolgos."

I recalled her ~ around thirty, black hair, caramel skin, short (5' 4") with small breasts with wide hips and a tight, hard body.

"I'll find out," I grinned. "Of more immediate concern to you, as of 7:30 this morning, all male Amazon children are to be given over to the Royal House instead of slain. I'm already working on exemptions for myself and the future House SzélAnya."

"How did you pull that off?"

"Thank Queen Aya next time you see her," I grew crafty. I should have known better. Chaz hid his surprise too well.

"I'll do that."

I saw Pamela looking my way intently. Her eyes bugged out and she mouthed 'Aya?', then a huge 'WOW!' I was glad someone was both happy and surprised.