Life as a New Hire Ch. 19

This story plays fast and loose with Ancient History and Linguistics; be warned.

Life exists in both seconds and years. Don't ignore one for the other.

I would like to thank the phone operator and Chief of the Burnham, Illinois Police Department for answering my questions, despite their bizarre nature.

*****

(Monday Night)

I should have known to not have too good a time. My karma was wacky enough as it was. It was about to get worse in a way I should have foreseen. Ain't hindsight grand?

Inside of five seconds I knew how much sharing Libra and Brooke did - a lot. On the plus side, it gave me some wiggle room with Libra where sex with Brooke was concerned. On the super-plus side, Brooke was looking forward to ratcheting up our sex play. I took her to Libra's experiences with all the extra bells and whistles.

In this case it meant adding a blindfold and ball-gag to the hand restraints. Brooke handed me a high level of trust unexpected at this early moment in our sexcapade. With a quick empathic insight, I pulled her ball-gag down as her orgasm erupted. She rejoiced in the sound of her rapture echoing around my bedroom.

I deceived her into her next climax by whispering a promise to release her then hammering her instead. The whole specter of powerlessness tore her up inside. Best of all, even as she spasmed beneath me, I released her cuffs then pulled up her mask. Her fingernails dug into my trapezius muscles. For over a minute, she clung to me with a deep hunger to feel my heat and sweat against her body.

"My turn," she rasped. I pressed my shoulders and head up so I could look into her eyes. She was waiting for this opportunity since she'd talked with Libra. Without question, she'd never been tied down before, or tied a man down and had her way with him. She'd manipulated men most of her life - that was old hat.

This was primal, physical and forbidden. She was taking complete control of my person. God, I thought she'd orgasmed when she finished cuffing me to the headboard. Taunting, teasing and hot body contact followed as she put the ball-gag in. Sizzling lips sealed my fate as the blindfold was slipped in place.

Having invested so much time using all my senses soaking up the hungry beast that Brooke possessed right beneath her urbane surface, losing my eyesight wasn't a major drawback. For Brooke, this had all the benefits of anonymous sex in a blacked-out room with the bonus of her having the lights on for her use alone. My bet was she had studied stuff on-line.

From being sure she wasn't going to have sex with me when she first met, she had graduated to running naked across my living room for what turned out to be lemon slices. The 'fumph' of the Nerf gun made me assume Timothy shot her in the buttocks as she raced into my room. By the yip from Brooke, I knew Timothy's aim remained frighteningly accurate.

Lemon juice and cuts don't mix, or, Brooke enjoyed watching my body jolt as said juice interacted with said 'workplace' mistakes. Was I angry? Nah. Every hiss of pain was followed by lavished kisses, licks and hair lashings. I loved her long black hair draped over my body, flicked around whisk-like and tickling my nose.

Brooke was learning my keystone technique - figure out what your partner wants and give them a quick sample. Don't use any one thing too much - make it a treat and they'll appreciate the taste they get even more. When Brooke finally sated us both, it was my turn again. We talked a while. She invited me to a friend's place in the Hamptons which suggested to me the destination was more than some made-up place on TV.

I promised to think about it. Brooke took that to mean she needed to work harder to convince me. I honestly had little desire to be trotted around as Brooke's boy toy. Hoping that wouldn't be the case relied a lot on faith. I wasn't sure what I would have in common with any of that crowd, which guided me back to being a stuck up snob for treating a people as a social class and not as human beings.

I took out my social anxiety on Brooke. Poor girl; three holes, ten positions and I'm not sure how many times I took her from frenzied peak to frenzied peak. All I knew was when she'd passed all points of previous primeval ecstasy, I finally released her. Brooke curled into a semi-fetal ball and began burrowing into me.

"Happy?" I asked as I stroked her sweat-drenched hair. She nodded happily against my chest. "Are you glad you came over?" I continued. Brooke bit me because she knew I was teasing her. "Ow," I grumbled. "I think we have a misunderstanding who is whose sex toy here."

"Do I need to bite you again?" Brooke mumbled into my chest.

"Point taken," I conceded. Brooke snuggled in even tighter. We wrestled out of bed, stumbled into the shower and took some time off with Timothy. He looked at us and smirked.

"Cáel is going to be my boyfriend," Brooke tossed out there. Huh?

"What in God's green earth makes you want to do that?" Timothy chuckled.

"He's been there when I needed him. Cáel is a real man and it has taken me having a really tough spill to realize that it doesn't matter which alumni your Daddy belongs to, but what you put on the line for your friends that really matters," Brooke enlightened us both.

"Seriously Dude," Timothy looked at me with pity.

"Cut down on the awesome dicking until somehow polygamy becomes legal," he added, but then, "Brooke, you know he's seeing about a dozen different ladies, right?"

"Cáel is looking for a serious relationship," Brooke insisted. Timothy chortled because he knew the likelihood of me settling down was right up there with us sharing a White Christmas in the Bahamas.

"Let's go back to bed, Babe," I redirected things to safer waters. "It is your turn to be on top." Brooke, wearing one of my fresh t-shirts and nothing else, hopped off the sofa and let me lead her back to the bedroom for another round of 'not thinking about any other part of my fucked up life except the beautiful woman with me right now' sex.

Twenty minutes later, Brooke had encased my rod in her wanton elixirs, was gyrating her hips as she stroked my rod inside her vagina while keeping me bound, blind and muffled. My phone rang.

"Should I get that?" Brooke teased me. She moved enough to seize my cellular device.

"The number is unlisted," she mused. "Who could it be?" I gave a muffled response. She removed the ball-gag enough for me to speak.

"Work," I repeated. "It might be work. I'm on-call 24/7."

"Damn," Brooke undoubtedly pouted (still blindfolded). She answered the call then placed the phone to my ear.

"Cáel, a Security Detail detachment is on their way to your quarters as we speak. You will recognized the code they will use," Katrina's icy calm voice informed me.

"Katrina, what is wrong?" I inquired. Normally, I wouldn't get an answer. Katrina's tone made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"There has been an incident at your Father's home in Chicago. We do not have clear intelligence at this time. I may have more when you get in," she related.

"Understood," I replied. My passionate storm abated and I felt empty inside. Dad.

"Cáel?" Brooke sounded worried.

"We need to get dressed," I murmured. I had to let Timothy know something was truly wrong. I needed to get Brooke home safely. I...I needed to know more than I did right then. Brooke uncuffed me quickly. I barely had my boxers on when there was a light series of raps on the door. I sprang up, opened my bedroom door, surprising Odette.

She must have come back to work a few minutes earlier and was unwinding with some low-volume TV and some sofa time. Timothy was asleep already.

"Odette, go back to Timothy's room and warn him something bad may have happened. Go!" I warned. Odette scampered back. Brooke was at my back, trying to move into the main room.

"Brooke, stay here. If something unusual happens, hide in the bedroom and don't come out until the police get here. Do you understand?" I met her confusion with an iron stare. She nodded. There was another, more insistent, rapping at my apartment door. I crept up to the portal and gave a counter-knock.

"Crab Fisher-woman," a female voice said from the other side.

"My Father's Sister," I responded. It was an imperfect code, but effective given the circumstances. I double checked through the spy hole, unlocked the door and let three SD Amazons inside. How bad was it? I doubted these ladies would know more than I did.

"[OKH] Ishara," the leader said, "we have orders to escort you to Havenstone immediately."

They weren't blindly expecting me to follow instructions. They had a directive they were following to the best of their ability.

"[OKH] Will a team be watching my domicile?" I asked. The leader nodded. "We need to take a female I have been with tonight to her dwelling before going on to Havenstone."

The SD team leader nodded again. There was no condescension, or argument. They were following orders as if it was my right to issue them. That was how bad things were. Time to get back to English.

"Brooke, finish getting dressed. I'm taking you home," I called out.

Quite frankly, along with my desire to see Brooke back home safely was my instinct to not split up my guardians. Better a longer trip than two smaller, more vulnerable groups. I was in the process of getting dressed in the living room when Timothy and Odette came out.

"Bro?" Timothy asked.

"My Father's home was attacked. I have no other details right now," I explained with a sinking feeling in my heart. Timothy read my soul, came up and engulfed me in his mighty arms. Odette added herself to the heart-felt love-pile.

"Do you want me to take Odette and head back to Queens for a while?" Timothy asked.

He sensed we had limited time.

"They," and by 'they' he knew I meant Havenstone, "will have a team watching this place. There are not enough resources to go back and forth to work. I wish I could tell what would keep you safe, but I don't know anymore."

"We'll stay put," Timothy declared. Odette nodded. "We'll be here for you when you get back. If any of these psycho-broads want to stop by from time to time, I won't say no." I shot a look to the security team leader and she gave a curt 'okay'.

"You'll need an overnight bag!" Odette squeaked. Off she went.

Brooke finished getting dressed and came to my side. To your average Lothario, what she did might seem odd. To me, it was the normal refrain - Brooke shoved her panties into my jean's pocket. That was a not so subtle 'Call Me' for when I got back.

"Three minutes, Ish - Cáel," the leader updated me.

My amateur guess was this was the team from across the street. They had back-up vehicles and personnel streaking down from Havenstone to provide extra security for my move.

"Velma," she gave me her name. A quick description was in order. The three Amazons all had Bluetooth devices, shooting glasses and steel-gray long coats that had to be uncomfortable in this upper seventies evening heat.

Underneath, they had on light ballistic body armor on their torsos, arms, and legs. Even their dull grey, all-terrain boots looked armored. They had a hip holstered sidearm, most likely a back-up pistol at the small of their backs and a deadly blade, or three. Their main deterrence was their H&K UMP-40 - my second favorite Amazon killing device.

Timothy snuck off to get my toiletries, returning around the same time Odette trundled out with an overnight (or three) bag. There was a final round of hugs then Velma indicated it was time to leave. The fourth member of the team was stationed at the top of the third floor stairs. That gave her a good view of my hallway as well as the passage going up and down.

Two SD's to the front, Velma and the fourth watching our backs and Brooke caught between giddy and freaking terrified. Things got even more exciting when we hit the bottom of the stairs. Two more ladies were waiting. They put a trench coat on Brooke and she nearly collapsed. The freed up Amazon took my bag while the second put a trench coat on me.

I grunted as well. This bitch had to weigh 25 kg. That was some serious ballistic and blast protection. The closest newcomer began attaching my pistol with hip holster on my side while Brooke was 'buttoned up'. I was slipped a few spare clips then was buttoned up as well.

"I'm not sure I can walk in this thing," Brooke gave me a weak smile.

"Don't worry," I smiled, "I'll carry you." I slipped my arm around Brooke's waist and, on Velma's signal, we rushed out to the middle of three Mercedes Armored GL550s. The doors had barely shut before we were racing away from my favorite home. I walked Brooke up to her apartment, we hugged, kissed and she insisted I go to the Hamptons with her this weekend.

I left with that promise unanswered. I didn't ask the Security Detail to do anything else outrageous and they didn't give me any crap about Brooke. Their vigilance didn't end at Havenstone either. No; they formed a tight knot of outward hostility until we marched into Katrina's office. Even then, they spread out over the Executive Services offices as an extended perimeter.

Katrina's office was another step up on the unsettling meter. It was Katrina, St. Marie, Buffy, Helena, and a woman I didn't know yet seemed to belong.

"Excuse me?" St. Marie shot a hostile look my way - actually right behind me.

"Don't mind me," Pamela snorted. She was in the process of sneaking into the room.

"I'm here for moral support," she concluded then took a seat.

"Cáel?" Katrina queried, as if I could somehow exile Pamela from the room.

"What's going on?" I began the meeting instead.

"Your Father is dead," Katrina reported. If someone ever asked me what it felt like to have an arm cut off, I could truthfully answer them 'Yes'. Dad.

"From what we have been able to gather from the video and audio gear the four Amazon Security Detail team assigned to watch over him transmitted, the team was setting up a perimeter when three vehicles with ten men stopped on the juncture of Janus and Kerr streets and approached the house. The team leader made formal recognition and was attacked," Katrina told me.

"Are they okay?" I mumbled. I didn't want to know how my Dad died. Had he been in pain? Which side had killed him? Would knowing make a damn bit of difference?

"Three of the four members were killed," St. Marie interjected. "The team commander was killed instantly. The second died defending that corner of your Father's domicile.

The third member was killed attempting to rescue your Father. The surviving member stopped the enemy from escaping with your Father's body, but was too badly injured to extricate herself and is now in police custody."

"What are we going to do about this?" I inquired. Pamela was a lying bitch.

She'd lied to Brianna because the truth would have gotten me and Dad killed. Dad had still died, but Pamela had kept me alive.

"There is nothing we can do," the stranger spoke up. "Troika of House Šauška."

"You are joking, right?" I stared at her.

"He was a male, not of..." Troika began to state.

"You do know your Amazon law, correct?" I countered. She gave a curt tilt of the head. "Recount the means of succession to the Head of a House then please explain to the room how my Father, the descendant of Vranus, fits into all that."

Cha-ching!

"Oh, by the Seven Goddesses!" St. Marie jumped up. "They murdered the Head of House Ishara!" Katrina was already back on top - ahead of the game.

"But what does that make him?" Troika pointed at me.

"It confirms him as the Head of House Ishara. We can sugar-coat it and say Cáel, being the only 'active' member of Havenstone 'represented' the Head of House Ishara. By our traditions though, Ferko Nyilas was the lawful head of a 'First' House. Certainly four days were not enough time to settle the manner in an acceptable way," Katrina said.

"At the very least, House Ishara would have been given 28 days to resolve any matters of succession internally," Katrina pointed out. "There was no deception. Cáel worked for Havenstone, so was our active member. The existence of his Father was known. It is in his basic file. It was highly unlikely that ANY House wanted to bring another male into the mix so the matter of his ascension was left unquestioned."

"This is Casus Belli," Troika stood up and declared in a firm voice. "I will inform Hayden. We must know the perpetrators of this act, Katrina. I will prepare to relate this breach of the Protocols to the other Signatories."

"To make sure I have this straight, I can defend any member of my family, no matter who they are, without violating the Protocols?" I questioned. "Can I kill them?"

"That is correct," Troika appeared confused. "Other Signatories cannot harm, or detain your family in any way." I gave a bitter, hollow laugh. Dad...Dad wouldn't have understood, but Mom would have, no doubt.

"Troika...hell, everyone but Pamela and Katrina, I am Cáel Nyilas, grandson of THE Cáel O'Shea and those people who murdered my Dad very well may have been my family," I felt like crying.

That was good because I was crying. I had talked to Dad early Monday morning. I had been so nervous about not leaving any trace of Mom behind that I couldn't recall if I said 'I love you' to him. I'd never get the chance to make up for that oversight. As I began to take in the faces around me, I realized Ishara had gifted me with a respite. No one else knew who Cáel O'Shea was - yet.

"Troika," I started out. I could tell she was still having difficulty with the 'Man as someone worthy of stating an opinion' moment. "When the Council decides that the Illuminati have breached the Protocols, do I have a deciding vote on what we do - since Dad was my family?"

"No," Troika clarified, "and what makes you think it was the Illuminati?" Pamela laughed at her.

"Because I killed Cáel's Grandfather when that man was head of the Illuminati - slit his throat and rendered him incapable of resuscitation. The rest of that twisted clan have only now discovered that there is a successor, genetically, to the Old Man and you are looking at him," Pamela related in an amused tone.

"Perhaps - just perhaps - they were interested in what happened to Cáel's Mother and the man she mated with to produce Cáel...who also happened to be the Head of House Ishara and now leaves this man (me) as the last of his kind - coming and going," Pamela finished, "for both the Amazons and the O'Shea family/the Illuminati."

Troika was having problems fitting all the puzzle pieces. St. Marie cut to the heart of the matter because she listens to me.

"If you go to war against the O'Shea's you are being forced to fight your own family," the Golden Mare stared at me in shock.

"Let me get this straight," Troika stood up, waving for silence. "When the O'Shea's killed Ferko Nyilas, they murdered the Head of a First House. They also murdered a member of their own family by way of marriage." She seemed totally flummoxed. Everyone agreed about how fucked up everything was. Breach? No Breach?

"Welcome to life working with Cáel Nyilas," Katrina declared. There was a pause.

"I'll let the professionals figure out the finer points of diplomacy. I have to go," I said.

"Were do you think you are going?" Buffy popped up. Until this moment, she'd had no role in affairs. My safety though...

"I am going home to bury my Father, Buffy," I announced. This was not a discussion.

"Shouldn't we take his body to the cliffs?" Troika suggested.

"My Father will face the Afterlife with my Mother at his side. It was his wish and I'm not going to start dictating to my Ancestors now," I sighed.

I was trying to make light of my pain. By the looks on their faces, I was failing. I had barely exited the office, Buffy, Helena and Pamela in tow. The security team was closing in and my phone rang.