The Adventure of the Denver Walker

by Kevin L. O'Brien

honor had been insulted. "Of course you will be adequately compensated. I had planned that all along. I will give you another $1000, which you will give to Justin as your fee. How much of that would you receive?"

  "I don't know; maybe a hundred, maybe less. That's more than I would make in one night, but I would hardly call it adequate."

  "I have also deposited $250,000 in a bank account under a false name. I will give you the account number and the name of the bank after you complete your task. With that money you could leave Justin, set yourself up as an independent in, say, Vail, or wherever else you like. Is that better?"

  Shasta couldn't speak; better was an understatement. A new life, away from Justin, away from the streets, where she could work as often (or as little) as she pleased, accept only those clients she liked, charge as much as she could take, and keep it all. That seemed like paradise to a doxy of her status. The only thing better would be to catch a young, handsome multimillionaire like Julia Roberts did in Pretty Woman.

  She realized her expression must have displayed just how much it really did appeal to her when Clarrisa chuckled with self-amused triumph. "I see that it is. Well then, if you accept my offer, I would like to get started right away. My son is taking a nap upstairs and I want you to be there when he wakes up."

  Those words snapped Shasta back to reality. "Just hold it a minute. You still haven't explained what's going on. All that money won't do me any good if you son's idea of kicks is roasting me on a spit."

  Clarrisa looked honestly shocked, but then she let loose a quick, barking laugh before getting control of herself. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

  "It wouldn't be the first time some society bitch provided her psychopathic son with victims to keep anyone from finding out."

  Clarrisa frowned deeply and narrowed her eyes, but her face also went pale. Shasta figured she had just hit pretty close to the mark, but that realization frightened her.

  However, Clarrisa shrugged and looked resigned. "Very well. I suppose you will need to know anyway, to do your job properly. I hesitated only because it is personally embarrassing, and frankly I didn't want to reveal anything you could later use against me. But...no matter. It's all very simple. You see, my son is a recluse. In fact, he hasn't been out of this house his entire life. As such, he has never had the opportunity to, shall we say, gain experience."

  "Never?!"

  Clarrisa shook her head. "I'm afraid not. He was always a studious boy."

  The whole situation had become very strange. "But what does that have to do with me?" She had a suspicion what the answer would be.

  Instead, Clarrisa fooled her. "To understand that, I must tell you about Peter's father--Peter's my son, by the way."

  Peter MacCandels. That name sounded vaguely familiar, but Shasta lost her train of thought as Clarrisa continued.

  "You see, his father and I were never married. We were not even what you would call friendly. We were lovers merely as a matter of convenience: we both had something the other wanted. He had wealth, power, and influence, and I had a womb to provide him with an heir. And I was tired of waiting on tables in truck stops. As such, when one of his associates offered me a million dollars to be impregnated, I agreed.

  "Peter's...conception is the gentlest word I can think of...was not pleasant. It took several tries before I became pregnant, and his father was unnecessarily brutal. Nonetheless, afterwards he had no further use for me. He paid the million, plus an extra amount to cover the hospital expenses, and charged me with raising Peter to manhood. He provided tutors while I used my fee to become financially independent, but when Peter had learned everything his father required of him, it was left to me to prepare him to receive his birthright.

  "All his father ever cared about was that Peter satisfy him that he could effectively take over and manage his affairs, but to me Peter was--is--my whole life. Everything I have done has been for his benefit, to try to make him into something his father would be proud of. Maybe I made a mistake somewhere along the line, but Peter in fact turned into a great disappointment to his father. He ended up a dreamer, interested only in art, literature, and study, which was not at all what his father wanted. I believe that Peter simply received the wrong combination of genetic traits from the two of us, but his father blames me. He has made it very plain that if, by his twenty-first birthday, Peter has not changed or redeemed himself, I will suffer for it. I am not concerned for myself, though I should be. He is very powerful, and could make my life a horror if he truly wanted to. It's Peter I'm worried about, because his father would surely repudiate him if he cannot please him. And what would become of him if I am not able to protect him I cannot bear to think about."

  Throughout, Clarrisa had been careful to maintain her mask of casual superiority, but Shasta noticed that as she talked her voice steadily became quieter and more somber, as her true feelings showed themselves. Shasta understood that she loved her son deeply and that she would do whatever she felt necessary to keep him secure.

  Still: "I'm very sorry for you and Peter, but I still don't understand how any of this involves me."

  Perhaps it was because Shasta had expressed sympathy for her problem, but when Clarrisa continued her voice had become firmer and lighter. "As I said, Peter can redeem himself, but to do so he must provide an heir of his own. The problem has been Peter's lack of experience. Oh, he likes girls well enough, fascinated by them in fact. But he hasn't shown the slightest interest in making love to any of the women I have presented to him. That's why I'm hoping you will be able to, shall we say, spark his interest."

  Shasta got a cold feeling in the pit of her abdomen. "I see. And you want me to get him to impregnate me."

  Clarrisa burst out laughing, so hard it took her a few moments to catch her breath. "Good heavens, my dear! No, no, I have a much more suitable girl in mind for that."

  That's certainly a relief. "But if you don't want me to become pregnant, then why do you want me to seduce him?"

  "My dear, haven't you been listening? My son cannot make any woman pregnant because he doesn't know how. I need you to be a surrogate. I want you to show him how it's done, to initiate him in the pleasures of the flesh."

  "So to speak."

  "Quite so. Will you do it?"

  She noticed a pleading quality to her eyes that no amount of self-control could hide, but it might have been purposeful. The expression reminded her of a basset hound she had when she was a little girl. Actually, Clarrisa need not have used the big, sad, soulful eyes routine, because Shasta suddenly found the whole idea very attractive. She always wondered what it would be like to be in total control, giving instructions instead of receiving them. And she found the challenge inspiring, even more so than the money. She had become so enamored in fact that she only peripherally entertained the question of why Clarrisa wanted to hire a prostitute instead of a professional sex surrogate. She decided that it really didn't matter, so long as she could do the job herself.

  "Yes, I'll do it." She nodded her head, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "In fact, it sounds like it would be grand fun."

  Clarrisa seemed to visibly relax, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Excellent. Then let's get started; we haven't much time. Stand up."

  Shasta did so. Clarrisa stood herself, then took Shasta's hands and positioned her a short distance away from the table.

  "Take off your clothes."

  Shasta felt her jaw drop as her eyes popped out. "Here? Now?"

  "Yes, yes!" She made an impatient gesture. "I want to see if you are stimulating enough."

  Shasta felt her cheeks and neck grow warm as she blushed, feeling uncomfortable. "Ah, no, I think it would be better if I undressed in front of him; more erotic that way."

  "But you don't understand, I've shown him pictures of naked women and he has been suitably aroused each time, but any woman he has met personally has been fully clothed. I don't believe he's made the connection between the two images."

&nbs
p; "Oh, now, wait a minute. That's ridiculous, unless he's a simpleton or something."

  Clarrisa's expression turned cold and she gripped Shasta's left upper arm hard enough to hurt. When she spoke, her voice had an edge to it sharp enough to draw blood. "My son has an IQ of 280, but he is incredibly naive about many basic things." Her tone then turned commanding. "As I've said, we haven't much time, so do as I say." And she released Shasta with a slight push.

  There had been times in her life when Shasta had been physically scared, but even when in the clutches of a sadistic client she had always managed to remain calm and in control. Clarrisa's sudden change in manner terrified her in a way no physical threat ever had and it left her delirious. She hastily complied as Clarrisa scrutinized her in a critical manner. It didn't take her long. All she had been wearing was a tube-top and a pair of short-shorts, with no underwear or hose. She even removed her knee-high boots, though she didn't know why. She just instinctively felt that Clarrisa had demanded she denude herself completely. Only after she finally stepped away from her tiny pile of clothes did she remember the nook was enclosed on three sides by glass. The alcove and its contents would be clearly visible to anyone outside, and the fact that the mansion stood alone in the country over twelve miles outside of Denver did not prevent her arms from reflexively covering herself.

  With her face a stony mask, Clarrisa circled Shasta as if she examined a priceless statue. When she came back around in front of her, however, she smiled, though still somewhat coldly. She stepped up closer and gently pulled Shasta's arms down to her sides. Then she laid the fingertips of both hands on her shoulders. Slowly she traced a line down around the outsides of her voluminous breasts, across her stomach, and then along the edges of her hips, before dropping off her thighs. Finally she stepped back and grinned.

  "Fantastic!" She seemed to gush with excitement. "Absolutely fantastic. My son won't be able to keep his hands off you."

  Shasta didn't believe she really wanted to go through with the whole affair anymore. Clarrisa's rage, coming as it did so quickly after her seeming implorations, had thoroughly unnerved her, and her subsequent examination of her body hadn't restored her confidence. But considering her present condition, she felt she had gone too far to back out. Besides, she suddenly realized that the thought of what Clarrisa might do to her if she tried terrorized her.

  She shivered, despite the warmth of the room, and Clarrisa turned and walked briskly to a cabinet set into the interior wall. Opening it, she pulled out a floor-length red satin robe and took it back to Shasta, holding it out to her. She accepted it and quickly put it on, grateful for some slight protection at least.

  Clarrisa focused on her head. "Oh, let your hair down."

  Shasta reached up and pulled out the pins holding her tresses in place, handing them to Clarrisa. The soft, honey-gold mass dropped to the middle of her back and over her shoulders. Clarrisa actually yelped with joy and clasped the sides of her face. "Absolutely fantastic! My son loves blond hair."

  Despite her dread, Shasta couldn't help smiling herself. Clarrisa's enthusiasm was infectious. And it had the affect of making her feel more comfortable.

  Clarrisa took hold of Shasta's right wrist, gently but firmly. "All right, then, come on. Let's get this show on the road." And she began towing her out of the room.

  Taken by surprise, Shasta nearly lost her balance. When she regained it she then began resisting slightly, pulling back and dragging her feet. "Wait, what about my things?"

  Clarrisa didn't stop, but turned her head and gave her an irritated look. "Oh, for heaven's sake, leave them. You'll get them back when you're finished, so don't worry, I'll take good care of them. Now come on!" She quickened her pace and pulled all the harder.

  Shasta continued to resist at first, but had to quicken her pace into a trot to keep up. The two women made their way to the stair hall, then climbed the grand staircase to the second floor. The hardwood floors on the first story and the marble steps were chilly on the soles of her feet and the rapid staccato of Clarrisa's heels made her worry about getting her toes stepped on, but the carpeting at the second story landing felt comfortably warm, and it muffled the clack of the heels.

  Coming in March.

  From "Survival & Sacrifice"

  "Hey! Stop hoggin' the mirror, ya butthead!"

  Eile stood beside Sunny in front of the bathroom's small vanity. It really had been designed to be used by just one person, so both of them together made it somewhat crowded, and Sunny's huge mane of gamboge hair didn't help matters any, either. Then again, the rooms in the suites on the third story of Differel's ancestral manor were rather small to begin with, pretty much comfortable only for single persons. She and Sunny normally didn't mind, because they enjoyed the intimacy, but there were times when it became bothersome.

  Like when they were in a hurry and trying to put on makeup at the same time.

  They were visiting Differel and Henry for a few days, and the aristocrat had decided to throw an impromptu semi-formal dinner party. They had spent the whole afternoon shopping for new clothes in King's Lynn and nearly didn't make it back in time. They rushed through a shower together and threw on their new threads, with just barely enough time to make themselves presentable.

  "I just need a few more seconds!" Sunny replied. There were few times when she lost her temper, but interfering with her primping was one.

  "Like you need it." She elbowed Sunny over so she could brush on mascara.

  "I'm not some kinda supermodel, you know." Sunny leaned back in to paint on lip gloss.

  "More like a bimbo centerfold--watch it!" A lock of Sunny's hair flapped into her face.

  "I'll be done in two shakes of a lamb's tail; can't you wait?"

  "We're late enough as it is. Diff's gonna blow her top if we show up after the horse doovers are served."

  "That's hors d'oeuvres, you Philistine."

  She flashed Sunny a dirty look. "Put a sock in it."

  A loud kerfumple sounded from somewhere close by.

  "What was that?!" Sunny looked off in the direction of the sound.

  "How the hell should I know, ya ditz?" But it almost sounded like someone running into a door.

  "Come on, let's check it out." And Sunny skipped off into the bedroom as Eile jogged after her. She reflected how, even after so many adventures together, her partner still tended to go running off into the face of possible danger without thinking.

  Nothing looked amiss in the bedroom, other than their street cloths and underwear scattered across the bed and floor where they dropped them in their haste to change. Nor did they see anything wrong in the drawing room. Eile had just about convinced herself that the sound was nothing important, when Sunny opened the door to their suite and jumped away from the threshold with a squeal.

  A Caerleon Order guard lay just outside, face down in a pool of his own blood.

  Sunny knelt to feel the pulse on his neck as Eile sprinted forward. She scanned the hallway; to the right lay the corridor that gave access to the gymnasium, game room and chapel, while to the left the passage led to the solar. Both were empty.

  "He's dead."

  "No shit, Sherlock." Eile didn't look down. "Gimme his rifle."

  Sunny passed up the L85A2 assault gun. "He must've hit the door when he was killed."

  Eile released the magazine and examined it; it was loaded, and it looked to be a full thirty rounds, but she couldn't be sure. "Does he have any more ammo?" She fitted it back in place and cocked the weapon.

  Sunny opened a snap pouch on his belt and pulled out two STANAG magazines. She held them up as she removed his L106A1 service pistol.

  "Huh. We're gonna be handicapped hauling these clips around with us."

  Sunny retrieved two 15-round pistol magazines and his combat knife. The British Armed Forces didn't have a standard-issue knife, but Differel made sure all her troops had a Gerber Mark II.

  "I've got an idea." Sunny slipped the knife into one of her design
er boots and stood up. "Keep watch." She slipped past Eile back into the room.

  Eile went out into the hall, thumbing the selective fire switch to three-round bursts as she stepped over the body. All the combat training they had gotren from Lt. Gen. Morgan Leia Ross for the special missions she used to send them on was still pretty fresh in her mind, and they had been getting supplemental training from Differel's Master-at-Arms, Sergeant Major Giles Holt. She glanced back into the room. Sunny had one of their handbags and had dumped the contents into a chair. She placed her magazines inside and slipped it over her head and one shoulder.

  She stepped out into the hall. "We've gotta get to Henry." She released her pistol's magazine and checked it over, then slammed it back into place and cocked the gun.

  Eile handed her the STANAGs and Sunny put them in the bag. "Yeah. You take point."

  "Right. Let's go kick hiney, partner!" Gripping the pistol with both hands and raising it to her face, she checked up and down the passage and then headed for the solar. Eile raised the rifle to her shoulder and fell in behind her, keeping watch in back of them as she followed.

  Sunny paused at the corner of the room and hopped forward, aiming the pistol left to cover the alcove for the service elevator.

  "Clear!" She raised the gun and continued on. At the end of the passage stood a door that led into the solar, but it stood open. Sunny flattened herself against the right wall and Eile hugged the left. She didn't see anything in her line of sight, but she couldn't see much of the room in any event. They stopped a couple of feet from the threshold; Sunny lowered the pistol to her waist as Eile pointed the barrel of the rifle at the ceiling. They looked at each other and nodded.

  Sunny jumped into the room and crouched as she raised and pointed the pistol to the left at the double doors that led to the family activity rooms. A second later, Eile stepped inside and aimed right towards the stairs that came up from the second story.

  "Clear!" she said.

  "Clear!" Sunny echoed.

  "Go!"

  Sunny sprinted for the closed door at the opposite end of the room while Eile covered her. When she reached it and turned to face her, Eile started towards her.

  The double doors crashed open; in the threshold stood a bipedal monstrosity, like a cross between a man, a lizard, and a rat. It balanced on its toes as a long, sinuous tail lashed around behind it. Screaming, it rushed at them. Sunny fired three times in quick succession; two of the 9mm Parabellum slugs slammed into its chest while the third ripped through its throat. It fell forward even as three more creatures charged up the stairs. Eile spun around and squeezed off three shots; two trios of 5.56mm NATO ammunition squarely hit their marks and threw a pair of the creatures back, but the third ducked and the rounds only grazed it. Sunny turned and fired thrice more; two