Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

  Brigid gazed at Aviva with admiration. “Talented and gorgeous. I should hate you, but I don’t.”

  Aviva laughed, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “Powerful and beautiful. But it’s a waste of energy to hate you.” She held out her hand to her. “Achot sheli. My sister.”

  Brigid grasped her fingers. “Mo dheifiúr.”

  Gabe and Ethan shot a glance at each other. “Thank the Lord, they’ve made it official,” Ethan whispered.

  “We hear you. And you don’t want to get us mad!” they retorted in unison.

  “We surrender!” Gabe glanced over at Ethan. “Right?”

  “Aye. We’re at your mercy, ladies.”

  “And don’t forget it!” The two females tried in vain to squelch their smug grins. Sisterhood was a powerful thing.

  “Let’s return to the study. We also have some good news.” Gabe led the group back and handed Ethan and Aviva a printout with a dozen or so jazz clubs listed. Attached was a copy of Macalister’s picture from the article.

  “We’ll divide the list in half. These are the most popular clubs with open mikes. Ethan and I will take one half and you two will take the other. When we’re done interviewing, Aviva and Ethan can erase their memories of us.” Gabe paused. “If we don’t get at least one hit, we’ll have to branch out the search to some of the other boroughs.”

  “We’ll start first thing tomorrow evening. Aviva, why don’t you meet me at the first address on our part of the list?”

  “Tov m’od. Very good. Well, I need a nice, hot bath and a snuggle with Khat. Time for me to return to my home.”

  Brigid bit her tongue. She should offer the guest room to her even though she knew that she’d refuse. But why make it even more evident than it already was that Aviva was the odd one out?

  Aviva picked up her guitar case and smiled. “Can Anthony give me a lift home? Or I can call a cab…”

  Gabe strode over to the phone, buzzed the Dohertys’ private line and made arrangements. Anthony would also pick up Aviva the next evening and chauffeur the women around to the different clubs.

  Mondays and Tuesdays were open mike nights at most of the places. As eager as everyone was to get started, their best bet was to wait and check out the clubs at night.

  * * * *

  Brigid had dressed with care. A halter-style top in a subdued mauve color and tucked into jeans would hopefully blend into the woodwork. Topping the ensemble was a straight, brunette wig that brushed her shoulders.

  Aviva hadn’t tried to change her appearance. In fact, she looked unforgettable. Her hair fell to her shoulders in riotous russet curls. Her tilted cat’s eyes were subtly shadowed and she wore several rings on her fingers. A silky cowl-neck, long-sleeved top in shades of bronze clung to her full breasts.

  Brigid stared at their reflections in the foyer mirror and sighed. “Can you come up with some sort of a temporary glamour to disguise what we look like? I mean you’re so gorgeous.”

  “Todah rabah. Thank you very much for the compliment, but you’re not exactly chopped liver yourself. As for a glamour while we ask questions, I think I can do that. Change our looks to fool anyone at the clubs and make the folks we interview forget our questions about Macalister. To play it safe, I’ll make it seem that we merely inquired about open mike night. If someone comes in after the glamour is in place, they might not be affected. This way we won’t have to worry about it.”

  “Tell the guys,” Brigid urged. “It’s a good idea.”

  “What’s a good idea?” Ethan’s voice echoed in the marble and wood foyer. “What the bloody hell is that on your head? And is this the good idea you were blathering about? If so, it’s a bloody awful idea!”

  “You don’t like the wig? I thought it was kind of glamorous, but that wasn’t what Aviva and I were talking about.” Brigid narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “You’re lucky we’re on a tight schedule or I’d—”

  “Douse me with water again? I’ve no idea when you developed this temper, mo chailín.” He took another step until he was close enough to see her blonde eyelashes. He clasped her chin in his hand and turned her face from side to side. “You’ve forgot to darken your eyelashes and brows. Take the damn wig off, agra geal.” He lowered his voice to a deep rumble. “Or shall I do it for you?” He fondled her backside and squeezed. “I’m thinking Gabe isn’t the only one who should … chastise you.”

  “Just try it,” Brigid said, but she took off the wig.

  “Excuse me, but do we not have places to go and people to see? You can play with Brigid later.” Aviva teased.

  “You’re right, Aviva. Sorry I got … distracted.” Brigid set the wig on the foyer table and ran her fingers through her hair, combing out the tangles. “Ethan, we think you should finesse how you and Gabe look. Let me explain.”

  Ethan listened intently while Brigid went into detail. A broad grin appeared upon his face when she finished. “Good idea, ladies.”

  “What’s a good idea?” Gabe descended the staircase and came to a stop as the three other Terrans burst into laughter.

  * * * *

  Manhattan, Lower East Side

  “Yeah, I know the guy. He started coming down about three weeks ago. Doesn’t stay long. Soon as he finishes his turn at the mike, he orders one more drink and leaves about an hour later.” The bartender gave the picture back to Brigid and leaned forward on his elbows toward the two women. He gestured to them to come closer, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. The neon sign over the bar glinted off his bald head and the muscles revealed by his torn-off T-shirt bulged. A tattoo of a polar bear frolicked down his arm.

  “This guy, I’m pretty damn sure he’s gay, but ya know, he turned down the couple of guys who tried to get to know him better, you know what I mean? He almost looked, I dunna, scared, when I, I mean when he was hit on.” He straightened up and picked up a mug, polishing the already clean glass. “Too bad. He’s cute.”

  Brigid and Aviva looked at each other. After visiting four clubs, they’d finally hit pay dirt. That Macalister was perhaps gay made little difference to them, but that he seemed fearful was interesting. Could Nolen be threatening him in some way? There was only one way to find out. “Thanks, er, Gus? Appreciate your help. Right, Viv?”

  Aviva held out her hand to shake Gus’s. As their fingers touched, she quietly intoned the forgetfulness incantation. After they’d left, Gus would only “remember” offering two nondescript women information about open mike night. None of the few early birds in the club would be able to say with any assurance what they looked like.

  Anthony was waiting around the corner, parked by a non-existent parking meter. It was a simple enough matter to create an image of one for the ten or fifteen minutes they might be in a club. Brigid and Aviva slid into the back seat and Aviva relaxed the glamour.

  “How did it go, ladies?”

  “We have a winner!”

  Anthony turned around and high-fived the two women. “Fantastic! Can we go home now?”

  “Two more clubs to go, Tony. It shouldn’t be much longer.” Brigid grinned. “Marty’s holding supper for you, I gather.”

  Anthony caught Brigid’s eye in his rear view mirror and shook his head while a sly smile crossed his lips. “It’s not supper she’s holding for me. She’s been real … inspired since you guys got back.”

  Brigid broke into a fit of laughter, trying to become sober. It was just that Marty for so long had simply been the housekeeper … Brigid found it difficult to envision her in a sexy piece of lingerie. “We’ll be as quick as we can. Right, Aviva?”

  “Betakh … sure. We certainly don’t want to keep your spouse waiting too long. It’s not healthy to repress desire.”

  “I’ll be sure to let Marty know that a therapist told me that.”

  “No charge!”

  * * * *

  Manhattan, SoHo

  Gabe and Ethan gratefully escaped the raucous sounds from the “Take Five” jazz
club. Gabe rubbed the back of his head where a headache was brewing. The two men turned back to the parking lot three blocks away where Gabe had parked his little sports car. He hoped the short walk would clear his mind and ease the mounting pain.

  “What do you think, Ethan? This is the third place we’ve investigated and all we seem to have found out is that you’re irresistible to men and women.”

  “Sorry, old man. Must be my youthful charm.”

  “No. I think it was the flirting you did with the bartender at this last club.”

  Ethan shrugged. “Your lawyer interrogation didn’t seem to be having the required effect on him, and frankly, it was just as easy to use a little honey to get him to answer our questions. Too bad he didn’t know anything helpful.”

  “Why didn’t you just use your Singer ability and get him to talk?”

  Ethan waited until they’d crossed the busy Manhattan street before answering. “Listen, I went through thirty-five years without knowing I even had Singer talents. It was easy enough not to treat him as a hostile witness.”

  “You’re right. I’m getting frustrated. The next two clubs aren’t that far from here. Let’s walk it. I think the exercise will do me good. I need to work off some steam. This … situation seems to have jacked up every Protector instinct I have.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and clenched them. “I’ve used my abilities over the years to fight courtroom battles. It wasn’t until I met Brigid that my need to … dominate grew stronger. That fighting in Ireland with Nolen and the Stone Men … it was exhilarating! And now the urge to engage in physical combat is growing.” He grinned. “I’ve never broken furniture before!”

  “Listen, anytime you want to spar again with me in the gym, let me know.”

  Gabe laughed. “It would be an uneven contest. I’ve been holding back on you.”

  Ethan carefully stepped around a murky puddle of water at the corner of the next street and tossed a challenge over his shoulder. “Oh? Shall we say sometime this week?”

  “A rematch? Not on your life. If I hurt you too badly, Brigid might never forgive me. Besides, we need you in one piece.” Gabe stopped at an ordinary door behind which he could hear the notes of a clarinet pealing. “We’re here. When I called, they said to merely knock and wait for the door to open.”

  “Knock then, will you?”

  One, two raps on the door produced the desired results and the door swung open. The foyer was smoke-filled and the music wafted in the air as stale and insidious as the nicotine swirls. As Gabe and Ethan made their way through the crowd, the clarinet changed to the vibrant notes of a piano.

  They caught bits and pieces of the conversations around them as they plowed through to the miniscule stage.

  “That’s the new guy. He’s pretty good.” Female, New York accent shouted.

  “He’s pretty, did you say?” Female companion responded.

  “Just got on.” Male voice, Southern accent yelled.

  “Did you get it on with him, sweetie? Lucky. He’s adorable.” Bronx accent, male voice answered.

  And suddenly, there he was. James Macalister. His eyes were closed as he improvised on Cole Porter’s What is This Thing Called Love? The fellow was pretty talented and pretty.

  Ethan leaned close to Gabe, still having to shout in his ear. “If he were a Terran, he would be a strong Singer. I can feel his pain. I think he must have feelings for Nolen, but I’ve no idea whether they’re real or Nolen has created them with his Speaker ability.”

  “I hear you. Either way, I think we can call it a night. I’ll just ask the bartender—”

  “Wait. I’ll ask the waiter.” Ethan batted his eyelashes. “That was him speaking with the New York accent. I’ll just try my flirting on him.”

  “And break his heart? Let me slip a twenty to him. It will cause him less grief.”

  The twenty did the trick.

  “Jamie? He doesn’t stay long, but when he does it’s a real treat. He pops in around ten, stays for a song or two and leaves.” The waiter pouted. “Always before my shift is over or I go on break. I just can’t seem to connect with him.” He gave Gabe the once-over and smiled. “How about you, gorgeous? I get off at one thirty.”

  “Sorry. I’m spoken for.”

  “Spoken for. Now isn’t that just too quaint. And my bad luck continues. Oh, well. Back to work.”

  “And I think we can call it quits for tonight. Even if Brigid and Aviva didn’t have any luck, we have at least one place she can go to.”

  “Aye.” Hope infused Ethan’s one word.

  Maybe they’d finally found a way to confront Nolen. Maybe they’d finally find a way to defeat him. For good.

  * * * *

  Boynton, New York

  “Do you know what he does when he goes off into Manhattan? Do you know who he does it with? Do you think he saves his ass only for your prick?”

  Nolen paced back and forth in front of the immense picture window in his study, trying to block out Lorraine’s incessant verbal assault. Maybe he’d have her cut out her own tongue.

  If his need for sex and blood weren’t becoming more demanding each day, he’d have already killed her. But he needed her for even more than that. When he sacrificed the bitch to Ba’al at the same time as the other sacrifices around the world, he’d finally open the gate to let Ba’al into this world.

  With the release of the fluichlari, he’d create a flood of sacrifices that would be unstoppable until the water demons had satisfied their enormous need for blood. And when at last he’d ask James to commit the final sacrifice and kill himself, Nolen would prove his worth to the demon lord. Ba’al demanded so much of his followers. Even the most eager of them had failed to achieve the ultimate goal. All those people—human and Terran alike—had been defeated, some by their own followers, others through madness. He had thought that Hitler, a Terran Destroyer with immense charisma and power, was going to succeed, but even he had not gained the prize Ba’al promised. Nolen exulted. He would finally prove that he was the most powerful Destroyer in the history of the Terran race. Terran and human alike would crawl to him. He would use some as his step stools and others as his sexual toys. The only being more powerful than he would be Ba’al. All those thousands of years condemned to that tiny pimple in that benighted country would be worth it once he had completed the tasks necessary to satisfy Ba’al. Millions upon millions upon millions dying in extreme agony, their cries and screams echoing as the doors to Ba’al’s domain opened and the demon’s horrific minions poured through, slaughtering those few left.

  He pictured the survivors chained and helpless, his for the taking or the fucking. He’d breed a selected few to satisfy his personal needs. The rest would build monuments in his honor and a residence truly worthy of him … or perhaps he’d simply claim some of those castles and buildings left vacant.

  He could hardly wait.

  Still, while the anticipation was exquisite, having to listen to Lorraine’s bile was extremely annoying. And boring. “Silence! You know that James worships me. He asks so little, only to listen to and perform his jazz once a week.”

  *

  Lorraine approached the arrogant male, reckless in her eagerness to supplant the queer in Lowery’s esteem. Over the last few weeks she had grown more and more addicted to their private sessions together. His strength was incredible. He had left welts on her buttocks that still hadn’t healed. Her nipples were raw from the clamps he used on them. Her wrists were scabbed from the rough hemp rope he wrapped around them.

  And he wouldn’t let her dominate him. He was no soft Dom. Hell, he was beyond granite. He knew no safe word. She’d almost died several times.

  He had made her crawl on her belly to beg for a victim to satisfy her craving for torture and power. Three times. He’d watched her as she fucked and was fucked by the helpless victims he’d found for her.

  A homeless man he’d had one of his unseen lackeys bring back to the mansion was the first. The man was cleaned u
p before they dropped him off and left him at the gate. Lowery had her drive him down to the entrance to the property and, never leaving the car, he bent down and whispered in the man’s ear. Whatever he said to him made the man obedient to his will. He’d done exactly what Lowery had wanted, just like the man they’d sacrificed on that weird altar.

  She’d taken that nameless man to their private chamber and forgotten all those ridiculous rules she’d learned when she’d discovered the life. But what did it matter? After all, she’d ignored them for years since the first time she had accidentally killed her sub. Poor, pathetic man.

  How could Lowery favor James over her? Lorraine pressed her breasts against his back, the clamps gripping her nipples and digging into his flesh. “Please. He’s not good enough for you. Please. He’s weak.”

  Lowery whirled around and gripped her arms. “And you think you’re any better? You’re ruled by your need for pain and blood. If I didn’t give you your regular allotment, you’d go crazy. James would never even think of giving his body to anyone but me. He’s mine.” He smiled and Lorraine shivered. “Just as you’re mine. I can make you do anything I want. Anything.”

  He picked up the antique letter opener from the desk and handed it to her. Her fingers trembled, but she took it from him. “Now, tear open your blouse, undo your bra and take the point and run it around your nipples. I want to see blood.”

  As if it had a life of its own, her hand aimed the point at her chest. Lorraine watched as the finely honed blade cut a circle around her areolas and a thick crimson line appeared around her clamps.

  She opened her mouth and screamed. He hadn’t ordered her not to.