I take a pull from the flask, look out the window, and pass it on. I lean my head against the window. What would Dory think of all this? I am vengeance-sworn. I face impossible odds. I have two mythical beings that want to bed me for radically different reasons. I’m friends with a demon that may be just as awful as the one I am sworn to kill. I’m drinking with a leprechaun. I go from leaning my head into the window to thumping it against the window.
It feels good.
I hear Shey say, “He’s thinking of Dorothy.”
“Yeah,” Silithes says.
I feel a small hand on my leg and realize it’s Pffif.
“Ye be all right there, Master Arthur?”
I lean back in the limo’s comfy leather seat and say “Gimme that damn flask.”
It instantly appears in my hand. I take a big pull, hand it back to Pffif, and say, “I am as all right as I can be for now.”
Shey and Sil are analyzing me with much concern from the facing seat. It’s time to change the tone and have a little fun with them. I bend forward in my seat and put my head in my hands and begin shaking slightly, mimicking distress. I sense them leaning in to comfort me.
“Blah!” I yell at the top of my voice jumping out toward them.
They fall back over each other in surprise.
Sil shouts, “Damn!”
Shey says, "That wasn’t nice!” and smacks at my knee, mostly missing it.
Pffif is literally rolling on the floor of the limo, laughing.
Vets is smiling - which is a thing in and of itself. She sees me looking at her and says, “Do it again.”
Maybe the flask was doing something to her after all.
We pull up at the Chateau in what seems like no time at all for a three-hour drive. Grey, Znuul in human form, and young Roger are waiting for us. We stumble out of the limo.
Pffif gives Grey a salute with the flask and says, “Greetin’s to ye, Master Lightbringer!”
Roger says, “They’re waaa-sted.”
“We wasted nothing!” Vets says.
Then she puts her hands in her face and after a second or two yells, “Blah!” mimicking my little joke, thinking it’s still very funny.
I am starting to feel a little self-conscious. Grey and Znuul look at one another.
“We survived!” I say, thinking that will explain everything.
Znuul snickers and cocks an eyebrow.
“The battle, yes. The return trip is questionable.”
“Welcome home, Arthur,” Grey says. “Please take the evening for yourself and tomorrow morning we will talk about what was learned. Mr. Pffiferil, might I have a sample of the contents of your magical flask?”
Pffiferil hands him the flask. Grey takes a sip.
“Positively vile, Mr. Pffiferil,” he says with a look of disgust.
Pffif smiles, takes the flask back, and says, “Bet if ye be taking a few more sips, ye not be noticing.”
“Walk with me Mr. Pffiferil,” Grey says. “I will share with you liquors worthy of drinking.”
And like that, they are gone. There goes the flask. Damn.
“Aww,” says Znuul reading my expression. He looks over at Shey and Sil, still acting like best buds. “Hey, girls, Arthur’s drunk… Easy pickings.”
He even adds the over the top bouncing eyebrows.
Sil screams, “Ow, damn it!” and I realize the compelling against seducing me just hit her upside the head. Bless her heart for thinking to try.
Shey weaves over to me, takes my arm and looks at Znuul.
“I would never take advantage, Demon shcum!”
“Oh pu-lease,” Sil sighs.
“Thanks buddy. By the way, you are an asshole.”
“Shmelly unwiped ashshole,” Shey adds.
I realize she is using my arm to stand straight.
The driver plops down my duffel next to me.
Shey breaks away from my arm and stumbles a little. She reaches up to her hair and the cascade of pixie dust falls. Shey is a tiny pixie fairy again, her wings buzzing her mid-air. She flies up to my face, kisses my cheek and says, “Catch me if you want me!” Then she takes off in a loopy, careening flight into the dark.
I’m not running through the dark now. Nuh-uh.
Sil sashays up to Znuul, takes his arm and says, “You want to get lucky?”
The disappointment shows on his face.
“I’ll have to get Grey’s permission; I’m sort of on a short leash there, due to past transgressions.”
Sil shoulders sag. She looks at me and says, “I can’t catch a break, can I?”
She basically drags Znuul up the stairs toward the house. Good luck there, indeed.
I am alone. I am drunk, but probably not for long given my spirit fueled metabolism. I take a deep breath and look at the stars in the clear night sky. I reach down for my duffel and realize that I am not alone.
Vets. She’s just quietly standing there, looking at the stars also.
“Pretty aren’t they?” I ask her.
“Pretty? It is vast.”
I grab the duffel and ask her if she’s coming up. She nods, and we make our way up the stairs to the foyer, where I drop the bag. The sofa in the sitting room looks inviting, and best of all it doesn’t involve standing or stairs. I head over and plop down. Vets follows, not sitting on the sofa, but against it on the floor next to me.
“We fought well,” she says.
“Yeah.”
It occurs to me she’s making small talk in her way. In my seventy plus years with Vets, I can’t recall us ever chit-chatting. I know. I’ve tried and met the wall of mono-syllabic responses. And never, ever, has Vets started a conversation unless it was related to instruction for a task.
Hunter comes trotting up. He rubs up against Vets, who returns the attention with a scratch under the chin.
“Znuul named this one well. Have you noticed how much prey he leaves at the rear doors for his master?”
“No, I hadn’t.”
My speaking gets Hunter’s attention who jumps up on the sofa, now demanding my attention.
“What do you think Hunter did to deserve his name?” and with that question, she turns the ring Grey gave her and says its trigger word, “T’shigar.”
She returns to her native Vetisghar form. She stretches her legs and arms in a lazy catlike way.
This question of hers bothers me, mostly because I can’t answer it in any good way.
“Well, Vets, here on earth things are different,” I say, figuring that’s better than “I dunno.”
“Indeed,” she says. “Much different.”
“You know, Vets, all this time together and I actually know very little about you. I’d really like to know more.”
She turns to me, looking confused. “You do not know me? I am loyal, I am fierce. I will die for you.”
“No, no Vets. I know you; the essence of you. I mean stuff about you, like your family. Tell me about your family.”
“I am not sure what I can tell you. We do not have families like humans do.”
She pulls off her shirt. For Vets, being without clothes is more natural than wearing them. She scoots from my side to sit in front me, in between my legs with her back to me, showing me her broad shoulders. She reaches her left hand over her shoulder to her right, showing me where her back was branded with a series of glyphs.
“The first is my mother’s number, second my father, third mine, and last the compound of my birth. This way they follow the line of successful breedings.”
"When did they brand you?"
"We all are branded when they remove us from our mother’s care, basically when we can walk and feed ourselves."
"Do you remember your mother at all?"
“I have few memories of my mother, given the young age of separation. I know nothing of my father. I do have memories of my young. I have been successfully bred three times.”
Damn, Vets is a mom; three times over.
“What were they
like?”
She adjusts herself so she can look at me, “They were all most beautiful. They were happy. They were, as you humans say, loving. But the culling would cure them of those problems.”
She must have read my confusion as to what she meant by that.
“The culling begins when the young are separated from the mother," she says. “The young are assembled with others of their age and not given enough food, so the weak perish as they cannot take for themselves. It is like your school, there are six seasons, and all kept to the same age as new young arrive. At the end of the culling, the strong are brought into a group where they are instructed and stay until of breeding and selling age.”
I am horrified. That is nothing like our school system, despite what the kids may tell you.
“Vets, I am so sorry you had to endure that. It’s barbaric.”
“That is the life of Vetisghar.”
“What about the fathers of your children?”
“All I know is they are all strong.”
My poker face gives it away again, she begins to explain.
“When the females deemed of value approach season, males of similar value are given the opportunity to fight for their choice. When the breeding pairs have been determined, the female is beaten to submission, tied to a breeding block, and seeded.”
She says it so offhandedly; beaten and raped. That is normal for her. But not me; it is nothing less than evil to treat sentient, feeling beings in such a way.
“This is not your way, I know. But if the Dzemond of Helterezen find a way to your world, it will be. It is their way. They conquer, destroy, and defile. I would prefer this not to happen. This realm is rather pleasant. I think ours was too, before.”
She smiles at me. “Here, even simple beasts like Hunter can be beings of worth. I like being of worth.”
With that, she turns, lays her head on my thigh and closes her eyes. The thrumming purr sound begins to come from her. I reach over to stroke her hair, and she starts back wide-eyed and baring teeth.
“Sorry,” I say recoiling.
Realizing it’s me she relaxes immediately and smiles. Then she crawls away from the sofa and sprawls out on the floor, stretching from finger to toe.
“I am tired, this is comfortable.”
“I’ll leave you to your rest, Vets,” I say getting up from the sofa. “I hope we can talk more, I do enjoy your company. I hope you know that.”
“I will not forget,” she says. She kips up suddenly and grabs me in a purring bare-chested bear hug. She must have sensed my surprise because she takes a quick step back and holds her head down submissively.
“That was not my place, Master; I thought that was the human way of showing kinship.”
“It is Vets, my apologies to you, please. It’s just that we’ve been together so long and you have never done that.”
I step into the big, scary cat-girl-warrior and give her a hug of my own to make things right.
The purr is back. She licks my face. Eww.
“That is how we show kinship,” she says with a smile while gently breaking away from the hug. She settles back down to the floor and lazily stretches.
“Good night, my wielder.”
”Night Vets.”
I grab my duffel, and attack the stairs; thankfully much more sober due to the combination of what I just heard and my spirit-reinforced constitution. I think to what Vets said about what would happen to Earth if Helterezen finds its way here and begin to understand the Protectorate a little more.
It also gives me more insight into the mind of my prey. We, mankind, are far beneath Maldgorath; no better than beasts of burden or food stock. But even the most highly-trained beast master can be surprised. Finally, I see what may be a weakness; arrogance.
Maybe my quest isn’t so impossible after all.
Chapter 38
The alarm wakes me up this morning, which is a surprise. Normally, I wake before it has a chance to go noisy. Luckily because of my enhanced metabolism, there’s no real hangover. I look over to the box with the blessed sword in it and think better of it. Instead, I grab the leather scabbard with my practice sword.
It’s a return to routine.
Vets and Znuul are waiting for me. Znuul is looking large and human. We must be expecting visitors today.
“About time,” he says.
Vets has not bothered to use her ring so is still very Vetisghar. She leads us in the six combatant Kata, moving at a much brisker pace. I make many mistakes trying to keep up.
I blame the pace, not last night.
After a review of my shortcomings, we join everyone for the tail end of breakfast. Food sounds real good.
Grey and Roger are still lingering around the island. Pffif is at the corner of the island with his head down, looking like crap.
Grey greets us and asks, “And how are you this fine morning?
“Never better, sir.”
“Find me after your meal, and when you’ve freshened up. Oh, you may wish to tend to the Clurichaun.”
That would be Pffif.
I grab one of Marthe’s delicious croissants, some butter, fruit and then make my way toward Pffif’s end of the island. I set my plate down next to him and grab his little shoulders and rub vigorously.
“Ach! Locusts and toads! Canna ye not see I be in pain?” he says.
I sit down on the stool next to him, smile and start in on my breakfast.
“Do’n you have to eat so loud? Take mercy on me, Master Arthur, ana send me away to heal.” He plops his head back on the island.
“That must have been some booze Grey shared with you.”
“T'was a glorious golden whiskey from the hills of Scotland. Ana a beautiful amber Brandy from France. Ana some disgustin’ spirits from the Mexico that’s I hadda drink a few of to make sure. There was a…”
“You two drank one of everything?”
“Naaa… Master Grey was only drinkin’ the whiskey. But a great host he is. Though, he took me flask. Mercies on me head, Arthur, send me away.”
Hilarious. I take mercy on him and send him to the white, where he’ll be as right as rain. I finish my breakfast, rinse my dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Vets has just been served her “Meat, please” and is beginning to dig in. Since Pffif isn’t here and we had such a good bonding experience the night before, I head to Vets.
“How’re you doing?
As she looks at me to answer, I swipe a slice of bacon and give her a big smile. She looks at me sadly with her cat-like eyes, and for a moment I think she channels that puss in boots from those ogre movies. Quick as lightning, she grabs the wrist of my hand holding the bacon and twists it. My wrist and arm are locked as she pulls me over to her and chomps the bacon slice up to where I was holding. All without inflicting any pain that would come back on her.
“You may have the rest,” she says releasing my wrist and turning her attention back to wolfing down her food.
I very carefully lay the remaining nub of bacon next to her arm that is around her plate. She scarfs it up immediately and throws me a look that I can’t interpret. So I smile and move on.
I head to Grey’s office, stopping to call Pffif back in the foyer. He’s very happy. I think that’s because he has his flask back.
I move down the hall to Grey’s office. The door is open, but it’s better to ask before entering.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Of course,” Grey beckons me in, gestures to a chair in front of the desk, and walks around to take the one next to me. This is an informal meeting, obviously.
“Visitors today?”
“Why yes, Arthur. A Greek contingent inquiring of a walnut order.”
“Your bar sure made an impression on Pffif.”
Grey laughs.
“I saw that impression this morning. And truthfully, I haven’t drunk that much in some time. Can you believe Mr. Pffiferil needed six pours of the Patron just to be sure he didn’t like it.”
<
br /> ”That’s my leprechaun.”
“Indeed. Now, to business. Share with me your impressions of the mission.”
“Well, mission accomplished, casualties were relatively light. But still… casualties. It’s part of any operation that size, I know. Karen, she’s impressive. Her planning was top notch, and honestly, on the battlefield, she was a little scary. Greg too, they literally don’t see him coming. Umm, I can wield a holy sword now.”
Grey’s eyes are intent on me. He wants more.
“Battlefield tactics are a little different. Spells are being slung around, healing, and heavy weapons to boot. But it’s still about surprise, position, and force. Maldgorath’s minions were there. He wasn’t. I think that’s part of the issue The Protectorate has had cornering him. He drops off his trouble-makers and then goes on vacation. Now, what’s the verdict on my performance? I know I’m being graded, right?”
“Indeed. You performed as I hoped you would, as a healer to your group. I will not lie, there were concerns you would put yourself at the point, or act in a damage dealing role. I understand you took direction well and acted as a team player. None of this surprises me, or Karen, but there are those who needed to see how you behave in a team setting.”
"Who?"
"That’s not important," he says. “What is important, is that you are being invited to be a part of the Protectorate’s very special operations team. You have proven that you can wield a Paladin’s blade - which is no small thing. You bring your own disciplined team of experts. You have maturity, despite last evening’s follies. And lastly, these teams and the Protectorate can offer you the extra protection, intelligence, and firepower you will need in your quest for vengeance. I think it’s a perfect marriage and I pray you consider it.”
That’s a pitch. But there’s a problem with it; those teams have never even gotten close to Maldgorath. Not in hundreds of years, by their own accounts. I measure my response.
“I do like the idea of being of assistance to the Protectorate, Grey. However, the perfect marriage it isn’t. To think that Maldgorath is going to all of a sudden become a viable target for any Protectorate team is flying in the face of experience.”
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