Fifth Wheel

"Well, as I said before, I spent nearly three days in the lap of luxury and lust. During that time, I had endeared myself to a few of the more roguish citizens of Kadath. They returned with the announcement that my target had arrived. The caravan of woolly mammoths passed the silver archway that marked one of the other entrances to the city. I had reached it via the red portal connected to our world. You see, Kadath exists as a kind of pocket dimension attached to the Earth via an ancient pathway. Few find it, and fewer can leave the way they arrive. I tracked their movements to the Opaline Tower, the home of a potent and much-feared noble that sat on the ruling council. Few of the common denizens of Kadath ever saw the council unmasked or unveiled. From the few recollections I coerced from drunken friends, most of that lofty body wasn't anywhere near human."

"I told you he had the best stories," Evan said.

"I knew it was either suicide or madness, quite literally, to face even one member of the council. So, I had to find a way of luring them out along with the girl. I learned after the fact that she wasn't a girl and both far older and wicked than even the ninth-ranked sorcerer holding her. For reference, mortal practitioners of the arcane arts never reach beyond level five. The sheer strain of all that mystical energy rips them apart from the inside. I threw a party, a very lavish soiree sure to get the attention of even the powers that be. Did I mention I shtupped a priestess of Bast? The tail got a little getting used to, but when I grabbed it instead of her hair, well, call it lust at first sight. I have the scars to prove it."

"Excellent visual," Amber giggled. "You fucked an Osirian? A Bastet no less, I am impressed."

"The party went off without a hitch. Thanks to that priestess, I gained access to the Priory of Unnumbered Tears. I offered up an especially rare animal for sacrifice, which sealed the deal. The mistress of the Opaline Tower herself teleported in along with her favored guests. Add a heady mix of drugged incense and a narcotic laced wine, and poof ninja vanish. I grabbed the target and her girlfriend. By the time the drugs wore off, I had cashed in my reward and delivered them to a safe house. I pondered retiring, but that is never an option. I am an adrenalin junkie at heart. Boredom is the bane of my existence."

"Whatever happened to her, well them?" Krystal asked. I didn't miss the brooding Gerald and his enigmatic mother, Judy. Neither of them spoke a word during the story. Had they enjoyed any of it, I wondered?

"No idea," I replied. "My part ended when I dropped the girls off at the ship."

"Pity," Krystal said. "How much of that happened?"

"You asked for a story. I never promised any of it was true," I explained.

"You are asking a magician to reveal his secrets," Evan said. "I, for one, loved it."

"The opening was especially vivid," Amber whimpered. "So damn sensitive."

"Gerald, you are up," Judy urged. "Go on, quit your bitching, and fuck her rotten."

Gerald carried Amber upstairs, and the liquor continued to flow. The rest of us retired to the hot tub to ease some of the tension and catch up. Evan talked about work, holidays, and vacations. He and I went back and forth, regaling Judy and Krystal with stories about the gaming group. Judy cocked her head to the side and smiled. Amber's cries reached the hot tub.

"Impressive," Judy laughed. "You have to appreciate a vocal partner."

"Um, am I the only one that finds it unsettling for a mother to encourage her son's sex life?" Evan asked.

"Not at all," Judy replied. "A parent's deepest desire is for their children to do well. It doesn't need to be limited to polite subjects. Sex is a perfectly natural thing, but it can get unnatural if you have a powerful imagination and a limber body."

"Ha, those yoga classes you got for your birthday must be paying huge dividends," Krystal said.

"I wouldn't drink too much," Judy urged when Krystal reached into the ice chest for another beer. "You might be pregnant."

"Oh right, better safe than sorry," Krystal said and took a bottle of water instead. "Need to rehydrate anyways. I hate hangovers."

The last sound from the cabin was Gerald's finishing move. We had a good laugh and called it a night. Krystal and Evan left first, while Judy and I turned off the hot tub and replaced the covers. I dried off while Judy wrapped her towel around her torso.

"Well?" I asked.

"Dominique sent me. Mayfair assassinated the head of the Order of the Ebon Flame. Dominique received two contracts on him. One to capture and transport, the other a kill with extreme prejudice. You get to choose which one to fulfill."

"Liam has been a resource, nothing more. How did a street kid take out someone like that?"

"When was the last time you used him?" Judy asked.

"I am not sure, five years maybe six," I replied. "Yeah, no more than six years."

"A lot can happen in that time," she said. "Say your goodbyes, and I'll drive you to the airport."

"Tempus fugit," I said. "Time flies, and so must I."

I found my bags already packed and near the front door. Evan and Krystal were cleaning up when we returned to the cabin. I dressed in the clothes laid out on the couch. We hugged and promised to keep in contact. I didn't dare to look back as I picked up my luggage and followed Judy out to her car. The private jet was waiting on a tiny airstrip. Judy kissed me goodbye, and the hunt began.

Prologue: Midwest November 198X

"You got to spend Halloween at the Smithsonian. I am so jealous," Evan said.

"It was the entire senior class, not just me," I reminded him.

"Tell me all about this woman," Evan asked, leaning in close. "She hit on you."

"Yeah, practically dragged me off to the bathroom," I said.

"Damn," Evan said.

"That's not the strangest part," I continued. "The lady talked as if she knew who I was. She said something like, ooh, I heard all about you."

"What did she mean by that?"

"That is the embarrassing part," I said and faltered. "Somehow, that woman got word about my thing and how big it is. The lady claimed to have rigged the contest that brought the entire class to Washington DC so she could spend the weekend with me. I slept in her bed in the penthouse suite of a French hotel."

"Your teacher let her do that?" Evan asked.

"The entire trip was crazy," I said. "The woman gave me this as a parting gift." I took it from under my pillow and showed Evan.

"A passport," Evan said and then opened it. "Your passport, when did you apply for this?"

"I didn't. Someone got a hold of a photo of me and bamf a genuine United States passport."

"Have you shown this to mom or dad?"

"Not yet. I thought they would freak out," I said. "Did anything odd happen while I was gone?"

"The Lancasters have a niece staying with them," Evan said. "They invited us over for dinner while you were gone and introduced her. Her name is Desdemona, a family name apparently. She should be attending your school for her last year before going off to college."

"Speaking of college, how are your classes going?"

"Great, I am taking all the mandatory things until I figure out what I want to do. I am not sure between engineering or accounting."

"Well, math always was your strong suit," I said. "You'll figure it out. I have faith in you."

"Kids, you have a visitor," mom called up from the first floor.

Evan and I hurried downstairs, which was the first time I saw Desdemona. I stared, and mom apologized for my rudeness. When I stumbled over pronouncing her name, she told me that everyone called her Des. Mom invited Des to stay for dinner, and I told her everything she needed to know about the school and hierarchy. I warned Des about the bullies and the girls to avoid or make friends with if she wanted an easy time.

"I don't play those silly games," Des said. Her violet eyes glinted as she continued. "The games I prefer involve imagination and a gift of gap."

"I remember when I was in high school," dad said. "The pecking order and politics were important."

"I respect that," Des replied. "My father told me that actions speak louder than words."

"Too true," dad agreed.

Monday morning, even before the first bell sounded, Des located the queen bitch, one Heather Thompson, and with a savage punch, bloodied the head cheerleader's nose. I laughed so hard that Des and I spent the next month in detention together. While we did homework after class, Des told me about the game she wanted to share with me and five of my closest friends. It took little convincing to get my buddies together that weekend to make up characters. The seven of us went to the local hobby shop to buy dice while Des bought a roll-up hexagonal map. It would be our battleground for the entire year-long campaign.

My dad listened in on occasion and even remarked between a round of snacks one day that the language Des used sounded awfully like Quenya, the tongue invented by Tolkien. Dad loved the works by the English author. He even brought out his autographed copies given to him by a friend of the family. Des remarked on the leather-bound books and smiled.

"You are a lucky man to have such generous friends," Des said. When she smiled, I thought for a moment she was hitting on my dad.

Des' command of the spoken language of the elves also perplexed my father. She used it as if it were a living tongue instead of a made-up construction. I begged her to teach me, and she did. I was surprised at how quickly I picked up on it. We would converse in it when we walked together, and I fell madly in love. Dad called it puppy love, but it burned so deep, and I suppose that is why it nearly shattered me when she left on graduation day without even attending the ceremony. Why? Enter Lady Dominique and her offer of a lifestyle and employment unlike any other. I would be her hound and sniff out people she needed to find. Dominique and her clients paid well for my training and gifts to accomplish my tasks. I saw the world at its best and worst and never tired of a new country or its people.

Once I had tasted Lady Dominique's blood, I remembered my first kiss from Des. Des said she was so nervous that she bit her lip. I kissed her anyway, and the trap was sprung. There was no going back after that. Looking back, no wonder I picked up Quenya as quickly as I did. Des' minor blood pact granted me the gift of tongues. A single drop of Dominique's blood enhanced it and laid the foundation for the rest that followed by the end. Hound or bounty hunter, I belonged to the weavers that hid in the shadows. The tattoo became my badge of office.

People died in my desire to see Des again and learn her motivations. Chuck was the first. A Catholic priest, two years out of seminary and hanging from a rope. I visited him the month before and asked him about Des. His recollections of her, like Evans, were different from mine. Chuck remarked on her bright green eyes. I could see how Evan and I might confuse blue and violet, but green. There were other anomalies I had forgotten—Des' almost violent reaction to anyone photographing her. Hell, she had purposely missed the day when everyone in our class had theirs taken for the yearbook.

"I've had dreams about her," Chuck said during my visit. "Des, I mean. Not erotic or anything like that, but me riding a bus and seeing her standing at the next stop waiting for me. I was terrified of reaching her. I just don't get it. I liked Des as much as anyone. Why should I be afraid?"

I received the phone call in the middle of the night. A man claiming to be a bishop from the church informed me of Chuck's death. Suicides don't receive the honor of being buried on holy ground. My friend was dead, and he had to bring up some stupid rule. I slammed the phone down and called Evan before that asshole did. We all flew out to Vegas for the funeral, all but Des. She had vanished from all our lives. It wasn't just me. At the funeral, I rehashed my memories with Des and tried and failed to uncover what I had done to piss her off and send her away.

That was the same summer my training ended, and my first solo mission took place. I tracked the man to a lonely solitary Scottish island. He had tried to run out on a pact and hide out on holy ground. I suppose he wanted to make amends and get right with his creator. I dragged him kicking and screaming into the arms of Dominique's enforcers. I explained to the village how he had run out on debts and would face legal action. Dominique staged a faux newspaper article, and the man's disappearance became just a tiny byline on page twelve of the local rag. That cover story alleviated their fears.

Language became my weapon of choice, and I became Dominique's left hand. If subtlety or negotiations failed to resolve a situation, she offered me a vacation to some isolated place to inquire about a particular individual. My charm granted me access to friends and loved ones of the target. Old girlfriends would eagerly complain about their former lover after a night of passion while mothers would spill their guts about their ne'er-do-well son and the lack of a birthday card or phone call at Christmas. The power was insidious, and I wielded it like a scalpel in the hands of a surgeon.

Halloween, I was granted another boon. Dominique argued that telepathy drove most folks stark raving mad. I still remember waking up naked, aching, and abused the following day. The acupuncture spots stung like a bitch. Pain and blood became the currency of the realm. Dominique told me this talent would allow me to read people like a book. I didn't know what she meant until the never morning, and I rolled over and came face to face with the luscious Corsican beauty, and there were words on her face. I tried to blink away the hallucination, but they remained. Lust. Hungry. Curious. The letters crawled across her face like some cinematic effect.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Antonia asked.

"Love, there are letters all over your gorgeous features," I replied.

"There are," she shrieked. Antonia bolted up to check her reflection in the full-length mirror near the foot of the bed. That same mirror had played a vital role in last night's shenanigans. I witnessed the faces she made while I made love to her. "Asshole, I thought you were serious." The words had changed. Anger. Upset. Horny. "I will let you make it up to me for scaring me like that. I have that photoshoot this afternoon, and that might have ruined it."

"Forgive me, kiss me, and I will make you forget my poor excuse for a joke," I lied. The message changed as I watched. This talent was another weapon in my mystical arsenal. It was not telepathy but far more helpful and less maddening. Antonia barely made her photoshoot and didn't complain one bit. After a month with a few well-asked questions, I could insinuate myself into any group or effortlessly learn someone's PIN or routing information. While I would never be as bright as my brother Evan, my life of world travel never left me bored. The globe had so much to offer, and I never took any of it for granted. Thank you, mom.

Epilogue: Winter 202X

I spared no expense setting up the ground floor as a temporary hospice. There were round-the-clock nurses to attend to him and anything he might need. I rarely left his side these days, and I slept only when my body shut down and demanded it.

"Uncle Frank," Bishop said. "You look like hell."

"Thanks, kiddo," I said as my fingers clenched Evan's tighter. "You look great."

"You demanded I take a few days off," Bishop replied. "How long now?"

"Hours, if that," I said, and the truth felt bitterer than any lie I had ever spoken. "Stick close to your dad."

"First mom and now dad," Bishop said, blinking away the tears. "What makes him cling to life?"

"You, of course," I said, and that was a blatant lie. I knew why Evan desperately fought off death. "Bishop, have you ever heard of a sin eater?"

"No, is that something out of a video game?" Bishop asked, attempting to smile.

"Nah, it is an old custom. European Christians believed that a parent may have done some questionable things in their time. A younger member of the family could, if willing, take on their parent's burden."

"I get it," Bishop replied. "You want me to..."

"NO, I mean no, your dad wouldn't want that. I would do it since I am his younger brother. I think he might feel any transgression he has accrued lifted if you witness the ceremony. What do you say?"

"If it helps him pass in peace, I'm in," Bishop agreed.

I had memorized the rite. The Latin rolled off my tongue, and I held Evan's hand tightly. With the final syllable of the prayer, Evan took his last breath. The alarms sounded, and the monitors flatlined. My brother Evan was dead. I held Bishop as he wept. Father and son had been close with what time they had together. I let Bishop mourn his dad alone. I stepped outside, lit a joint, and let the aromatic smoke fill my lungs.

"I am cross with you, Frank," Desdemona said from the shadows.

"I loved Evan more than you in the end," I replied as I turned to face her. She, like me, hadn't aged a day since we last looked upon one another. Those violet eyes that had enthralled me nearly half a century ago shone with an inner light.

"You stole from me, me, the one that made you what you are today," Des grumbled.

"Des, if you cannot comprehend one brother's love for another," I said and stopped. "What?"

"Brothers have killed for me," Des said with her impish smile. "Father's have done unspeakable actions to earn my favor. My legacy is one of betrayal and hate. You claim to love me and then pull this shit. Explain to me how I failed with you."

"Love requires two people being together. If you plant a garden and don't water and weed it eventually, it will no longer be a garden but a briar patch."

"I get it now. Maybe we are all the product of shitty parenting? All I ever did was perform the task at hand, no matter how twisted it was." Des let the hood covering her head fall back. Her long dark hair tumbled out, and I fought the urge to take her into my arms. "I could be your sin eater Frank. You could join your brother this very day in paradise."

"No. Sorry. Someone needs to keep an eye out for my son. I mean Bishop. He is too precious to let you get your claws into him. Evan did a great job raising him, and I have to keep you from fucking up his life." Des laughed until she cried. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she spoke.

"Damn Frank, your grandfather said the same damn thing when your dad was born. I take care of my own. You spend all the time you need with him. The others will keep you busy, and I vow to let Bishop lead as sinless a life as he chooses. You have my word on it."

The revelation nearly broke me, grandpa's secret, the lack of photos of my grandmother, and the statue hidden beneath the lake. I knew that grandpa had run into Des, but I thought he had secreted the copper idol to keep grandma from seeing it. No, the truth ran deeper than that and explained the inconsistencies of Des' appearance. I saw her one way, Evan another, and Chuck another way entirely. She avoided cameras because they would reveal her true nature. Des appeared to us as we wanted to see her. A photo might show her undisguised shape. Was Des an angel, a formless entity, or even one of the great old ones? I didn't want to know anymore. I was content to know she was out there, and my actions pleased her most of the time.

"I guess it is too late for that offer of yours," I asked.

"Ha, you crack me the fuck up, kiddo," Des roared. "Take your time with Bishop. When you are ready, the workflow will return." She began to walk off, stopped, and turned her head. "What is it?"