
ALIEN SPECIES INTERVENTION

Book 1—BABY

Book 2—ECHO

Book 3—ARMAGEDDON COMETH

J.K. Accinni

EK Publishing

Lakewood Ranch, FL
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ALIEN SPECIES INTERVENTION Books 1 - 3

J.K. Accinni

ISBN: 9781310796609

Smashwords Edition

An E. K. Publishing book published in arrangement with the author, Bradenton (s/b Lakewood Ranch), FL.

Copyright © 2012 J.K. Accinni

Editing by LionheART Publishing House

All rights reserved.

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic/printed editions and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

Cover Design by Cecelia Morgan

# Other Books by J.K. Accinni:

Baby (Species Intervention #6609, Book 1)

Echo (Species Intervention #6609, Book 2)

Armageddon Cometh (Species Intervention #6609, Book 3)

Hive (Species Intervention #6609 Book 4)

Evil Among Us (Species Intervention #6609, Book 5)

The One (Species Intervention #6609, Book 6)

# Dedication

I would like to thank my mom, Jane, for her unflagging support. She never once thought to even question my capabilities. I owe so much to my one true love, Wil, whose honest clear sweetness and support gave me something to live up to, and I would like to thank Fate.

I would like to thank the phenomenally talented artists who granted me the rights to their work for my covers, Adam Taylor, England, United Kingdom— _Baby_ ; Larissa Elise Bergsma, Netherlands— _Echo_ ; Jonas Jedicke, Berlin, Germany— _Armageddon Cometh_ and _The One_ ; Terry Rogers, Gainesville, Florida— _Hive_.

And lastly, I want to acknowledge my four legged children, Barney, Toby, Molly, Teddy and Echo, and all of my children who are waiting for me over the Rainbow Bridge. They are what bring all the richness and laughter into my life.

NOTE TO READERS: This is a work of fiction and as such, controversial points of view may be written to enhance the reader's experience. The author's goal has been to make the reader think critically and the views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of the author. The author would like, however, to help readers realize what detrimental effects we have created for our wildlife.

Readers, in an effort to make this work as appropriate as possible for the time period in which it takes place, the author has used more formal grammar and not used contractions as readily as we use them today.

# Contents

Books by J.K. Accinni

Dedication

Book 1—Baby

Book 2—Echo

Book 3—Armageddon Cometh

Sneak Peek, Book 4—Hive

Author's Page
ALIEN SPECIES INTERVENTION

Book 1

BABY

J.K. Accinni

EK Publishing

Lakewood Ranch, FL

# Chapter 1

# 1929

It came to young Netty in her sleep. The first probing finger, an aura glinting under the sleeping eyelids of her brain, unnoticed. She lay under shabby blankets in the primitive bed of her murdered mama, in the tiny remote cabin of a loving childhood. Now, her debilitated physical condition crippled her to the point of numbness. She tossed in her sleep, disturbed by the pain of the injuries that continued to bedevil her, taking unwanted turns with the unseen alien presence which explored her unguarded mind.

The night passed too quickly, as it always does when overwork and fear become your only companions. Rising early, intending to continue the repairs she doggedly hoped to complete, she found herself ignoring the fireplace that begged a spark.

Drawn to the broken door of the cabin, she stared into the quiet woods at the far side of the field, affected by an unfathomable magnetic pull. Nothing moved; familiar maples and oaks were frozen in their leafy majesty. The eerie stillness unaccountably frightened her. She felt goose bumps lift the hairs on her plump work-worn arms. Against her will, she stepped out onto the narrow stoop and down the few steps to head across the fallow field.

Netty trudged around the wild blackberry thickets until she came upon the hint of a faint path; all that remained of the well-worn trail she'd traveled incessantly as a child. The nebulous pathway led her directly through the foreboding woods until she reached a familiar cleft in a rocky outcrop. Looking down at her damaged feet, she saw her open sores blossoming with blood and pus, her inability to stop the infection worrisome. _Why oh why should I make this needless and excruciating foray into the damp morning fog? I cannot spare the time and, God knows, I plainly do not have the strength._

Only two weeks had passed since she'd made her unexpected escape from the humiliation and abuse she regularly tolerated from the sick bastard she'd married. Was this sudden and strange compulsion to take to the woods a punishment for running away from him? Or did the spirits of the devil invade her in her sleep? Visions of her abusive husband carting her off to the insane asylum at Graystone near their mansion in Norristown convinced her she must continue on. Hoping to discover the meaning of the annoying compulsion that drove her against her will and wisdom, she trudged onward.

Needing a break from the exhausting trek, she rested her feeble body, swiping her thinning, ratty brown hair off her forehead. She contemplated the progress made on her tiny two-room cabin in the last two weeks.

She swallowed, trying vainly to choke back a bitter sob. It had taken a mighty big bucket of blood, pain and trampled illusions to get to this point, but she thought she might now be safe from Robert.

She wondered how a pathetic wretch such as herself had mustered the nerve to leave him despite his powerful ability to intimidate and bend her to his will.

To reassure herself, she touched the small round object pinned to her undergarments underneath her bodice. Strange how the purloined object could give her a quick shot of comfort. She unapologetically brushed a sudden flush of shame aside. She'd taken the little treasure in a futile and petty attempt at revenge. A sour laugh slipped out, alongside the knowledge that nothing in her sadly wasted life could compensate her for the newly discovered and premeditated betrayal by her older husband. Her head still echoed with the hateful revelations made by him a mere fifteen days ago.

Steeling herself as she rested, she tried again to concentrate on the progress made at the cabin in the last few days. Was it only two weeks since she'd first arrived back on Lily Pond Road? _Why call it a road?_ she thought ruefully. _Should it not be called Lily Pond Rut Field, as progress has clearly failed to reach this far from town, even after all this time?_

The journey had almost defeated her. Her feet bled from numerous injuries incurred on her long trek from the big city back to Sussex County. Her house slippers hadn't been her first choice for the trek, but her husband's unexpected return as she'd searched his precious library had left her no choice. Abundantly sure she could no longer bear more of his scorn, violence and mocking laughter, she ran. And she ran. And she ran, until her hobbled condition forced her to collapse upon Lily Pond Road. The very road that told her the beloved home of her childhood could be found around the next bend.

As she'd approached the dilapidated cabin, she'd noticed the roof had sagged. Could she figure out how to repair it on her own? She could surely try. _Well, maybe not,_ she thought, quickly becoming discouraged as she took in the ravaged fence, broken windows and crushed mailbox, her family name still faintly legible.

A wave of despair and loneliness had hit her hard. Her lovely mama and poor papa were gone. Papa to the flu when she'd turned fifteen and her mama murdered, shortly after her very own storybook wedding on her seventeenth birthday. She bitterly remembered the halfhearted search for the culprit. Sheriff Hudson had eventually decided it had been the work of one of the gypsies that frequently passed through the countryside, begging for handouts.

She well understood that the peasantry mattered little to the social and economic fabric of the town. They wielded no influence and were of little consequence. The sheriff had actually told her that something like this was bound to happen with her pretty mama living all the way out in the boondocks with no man of her own to keep an eye on her. Even the surprisingly cooperative intervention of her new and prominent lawyer-husband had had remarkably little effect on the investigation, such as it had been. Impotence had silenced her as the investigation had quickly and quietly concluded.

Two weeks ago, she'd discovered that Mr. Woods, Papa's boss and Mama's longtime childhood friend had died. A special friend to her since she'd been a toddler, she remembered his actions at her wedding with love. He'd pulled her aside, telling her how beautiful she'd always be to him as he slipped a small but plump purse into her hands. He'd whispered to her to keep it to herself, saying every bride needed a little something for herself in case of emergency. Not that she'd actually have an emergency, good heavens no, look who she'd just married.

_Yeah, look who I had just married_. The bile in her throat rose as she thought of him. Robert Doyle, the only son of a large and prosperous Irish family in town. His five older sisters were known far and wide for the thoroughbred horses they raised for the races in Saratoga. They sported expensive wardrobes, lavish parties and haughty demands. How had a fancy man like him even discovered her _? Oh yes, Robert_ , she thought bitterly _. So handsome, so formal, so rich_ . . . He'd surely had his choice of all the young, educated, fancy town ladies. Why had he picked her, Jeannette Elizabeth Smith?

As Netty picked burrs off her papa's moth-eaten trousers, which she'd found shoved beneath her parents' old bed in the cabin, her memory drifted back to happier times.

She could almost feel the wetness on her arm as she remembered the frequency of annoying raindrops that had leaked down on her head in the simple mission-style classroom of her schoolhouse. It had sat a full five dusty and hilly miles from her home. She'd never been anything but an average student, daydreaming her way through class until she could return home to check on the latest batch of rescued bunnies, or the baby bird knocked out of its nest by greedy nest mates. She'd attended school until her thirteenth birthday; old enough to start pulling her weight around the farm fulltime. Her education had stopped there, although she'd continued to read the storybooks her mother had provided from her own precious stores. Her heart warmed as she remembered the education derived from the magic of stories painted by so many ingenious authors.

Although her papa had said she was smart and awfully pretty, she'd been passed over time and again by the eligible young men in Sussex County. And by some not so eligible. She'd often been judged too young, too poor. When Robert had started courting, she'd found herself non-responsive, unfamiliar with the mysterious intricacies of flirtation. The fact that he'd been forty years old to her sixteen naturally intimidated her.

Her mama had rapidly convinced her to make an effort with her appearance when she'd realized his attentions merited serious consideration. All reservations about Netty's tender age flew out the window. Gone, her papa's hand-me-down trousers. In their stead, she wore the lovely new dresses her mama had stitched, spending hours working late into the night as she herself lay curled up on her straw mat next to the toasty fieldstone hearth of the blackened kitchen fireplace.

She'd gently stroked the silky fur of her favorite doggies, tiny Nip and one-eyed Molly, as her mama worked the unfamiliar fabrics that had been provided by Mr. Woods. Her mama and Mr. Woods had been intent on making sure Netty didn't let this very sudden opportunity slip by, both convinced it might be her only chance to get off the farm; a fortuitous rescue from the ignoble plight of spinsterhood. God knew if another chance would come along with Netty's perpetual habit of spending every free moment in the woods or wrapped up in her latest creature rescue.

*

Mrs. Smith had longed for her baby girl to avoid many of her own early mistakes, which had led to their current circumstances. Mr. Smith had been a good, God-fearing man, but Mrs. Smith had wanted Netty to have the wonder of true love, just as she herself had once experienced. She especially wanted her away from the farm; a wistful hope for an easier life of comfort and security. Every mother in the county plotted to secure the best suitors for their daughters, and Mr. Woods had vouched for Robert himself. After all, Robert's favorable legal wrangling with Mr. Woods' extensive farm holdings had kept him lucratively employed for years.

Netty had felt quite content on the farm with her parents. Mr. Woods often stopped by to consult Papa on farm business. He never failed to bring special treats for all of them: sweets for her, bolts of good, strong sack cloth for Mama, books for them both and horrible-smelling tobacco for Papa. She remembered with delight her mama's blushes and rare girlish giggles as Mr. Woods surprised her with the occasional store-bought piece of finery, not understanding her papa's silence, long after Mr. Woods had departed.

Far behind the tiny cabin stood a well-constructed outbuilding previously used to store winter firewood, seeds for the next year's plantings and the trellises for her mother's bean crop. After much lobbying to Mr. Woods as a child, she'd finally persuaded him to agree, amid much laughter and hearty encouragement, to her turning it into her very own animal hospital. For it was Mr. Woods who'd owned the shed, along with the surrounding two thousand acres, as well as the little cabin Netty and her mama lived in. Netty thought Mr. Woods was probably her best friend.

So, it had been with the jubilant blessings of her parents and Mr. Woods that Netty had accepted Robert Doyle's proposal of marriage, although she'd waited in vain for the elusive feelings described by her mama as true love.

*

Netty forced her thoughts to return to her present dilemma. She'd spent every minute since arriving at the cabin moving gingerly on her damaged feet: cleaning cobwebs, shooing away harmless black snakes and field mice, stocking in some meager supplies and linens, collecting firewood to buffer her from the biting cold evenings and attempting to repair the dilapidated furnishings remaining in the cabin.

Upon reflection, she now understood why Mr. Woods had failed to rent the cabin after her mother's death. Robert had wasted no time in taunting her with the secret he'd hidden from her since Mr. Woods' sad passing. Too late, it was now perfectly clear why he'd married her.

Netty tried to stand, wanting to get off the cold damp ground of the woods. Struggling, she doubled over with nausea as cramps painfully contracted her abdomen from the memory of the events that had forced her to flee her marital home in Norristown.

Her escape had come on the heels of the expected appointment of Robert as the new county magistrate. _How nice for him_ , she thought bitterly. She wondered how he'd explain her conspicuous absence at his induction and the subsequent ball he'd planned at Sunnydale, their ten-thousand-square-foot Renaissance Revival mansion. Thinking about his lavish spending, she no longer wondered where the money came from. His country lawyer fees couldn't possibly cover the household expenses, not with the house staff, the office staff and Robert's outrageous lifestyle. A lifestyle he'd hidden from her during their courtship. Not that she cared. As long as she didn't have to participate in his social affairs, she'd been able to remain safely out of sight and mind.

She'd also developed an aversion to the smell of the harsh spirits imbibed to excess by Robert and his cronies during their constant late night __ meetings in the carriage house behind the mansion. Meetings that had inevitably turned into drunken brawls, often drawing the attention of local law enforcement; who would then do what? _Well . . . join in, of course_ ; _so much for_ _enforcing the law_. Did the police ever bother to wonder where the prohibited alcohol had come from?

The thought unexpectedly reminded her that she was down to the last few silver coins Mr. Woods had pressed into her hands at her wedding. Yes, she'd encountered many rainy days in her marriage, but none as nasty or desperate as this. Relief briefly flooded her mind, amazed by her unexpected wisdom when she'd heeded his wise advice, retaining the coins until she was truly desperate. And yet the cabin needed so much more to become fully habitable. She felt pressured to make every coin stretch three times as far.

Late yesterday afternoon her feet had given out, forcing her to rest as they refused to heal from her self-destructive trek from Norristown. As she soaked her feet, reclining against the unforgiving headboard of her parents' primitive bed, the harsh, roughly-planed wood dug into her plump shoulders and she imagined rainbow colors in the periphery of her vision. An aura, gone in a flash, it left behind an unmistakable urge to visit the woods. She fought the compulsion, recognizing the time and effort involved. Her exhaustion begged her not to go. Clearly, a visit must wait. Chores, dinner and desperately needed sleep came before a break or jaunt into the wood.

So here she was, a day later. She slowly breathed out a ponderous sigh, knowing she needed to get a move on if she wanted to climb to her secret sanctuary and still have time to absorb joyous memories of her childhood. Nightfall could come quickly in the woods.

Netty again tried to get to her feet, this time with more success, and set off. She squeezed her large frame into the painfully tight cleft in the rocky hillside, choosing to avoid the wider expanse of the longer route. She was overwhelmingly aware of how her slender figure had ballooned in the few years since her sham of a marriage. She wondered if perhaps it had been a subconscious defensive move to dissuade Robert's occasional drunken late night forays into her third floor bedroom. It had been there that he'd chosen to indulge his malicious need to remind her of her powerlessness. Just as he'd done on their wedding night.

The evening had started out full of promise, her innocence perfectly clear, even as her mama tried to prepare her by tentatively discussing the rituals between a man and woman in love. Not able to grasp the significance of the talks, she came away convinced that her wedding night would prove to be mysterious and wonderful, capturing the feelings of the true love her mama described to her. Delivered to the bridal suite, she'd prepared for Robert's arrival, the canopy bed so sumptuous she dare not sit on it.

Readying herself for her husband, she'd donned the new nightgown her mama had painstakingly stitched for her. She'd never held anything this elegant, with its delicate lace and silky translucence. As she brushed her long brown hair, thick and gleaming, she'd casually wondered what was keeping Robert. He'd pulled away from her after the ceremony to welcome his boisterous friends, barely speaking to her apart from an occasional dance. The crowded room had consisted mainly of strangers. Robert's sisters formally congratulated her, but had quickly moved on to other party guests. She understood his need to play host to his friends and business associates, although the unfamiliar smell of spirits she'd detected on his breath as they danced had left her confused and nervous.

Time passed quickly and, before long, she'd nodded off on the petite water silk divan in the far corner of the bedroom. She'd startled awake as Robert stumbled into the room, locking the door behind him. It was very late and her innocent eagerness had dissipated with her grogginess from not having properly slept. As she yawned herself awake, she'd softly inquired as to his whereabouts.

Robert had stood in front of her, lightly swaying on his feet as he regarded her with what she could only describe as a sneer. Without warning, he'd backhanded her across the face; the strike so powerful that she'd fallen from the divan. He'd turned toward the bed, then turned back as if he'd suddenly thought better of it. He'd hauled her to her feet, his face transformed into something unfamiliar and strange. Pausing his hand in midair, he'd reached out and slowly, so gently, caressed her bodice. Before she could react, he'd viciously gripped the bodice and yanked it down, fully exposing her trembling nakedness. Lust had filled his eyes as he painfully bit down on her nipple, causing her to scream in shock and pain.

He'd backhanded her again, whispering ominously, "You stupid strumpet, do not ever question me again." With further disdain, he'd then pushed her to the floor. Struggling to pull down his trousers, he'd mounted her from behind, slamming into her tender virgin flesh. His big hands wrapped themselves around her throat, cutting off her air. Disgusting sounds emanated from him, reminiscent of hogs fighting in their pig slop. By the time he'd finished, her screams had lessened to shocked and gulping whimpers. She'd cowered defenselessly on the floor as he'd grunted his way to the bed and collapsed, falling into a deep stupor.

Netty lay stunned, her beautiful fantasy dissolving into the reality of the burning pain and blood between her legs. She felt numbness on her face. Reaching up, she felt her nose and realized Robert had broken it. Hot tears streamed down her swelling face as she slowly made her way to the wash bowl. She'd tenderly blotted at her thighs with clean linen, wincing at the ruin of her nose in the looking glass above the stand. Gathering up the remnants of her lovely nightgown, she'd achingly pressed the ruined gift to her heart. _Oh, Mama_ , _please_ _come take me home._

Netty had then slipped into her robe and carefully crept to the bottom corner of the bed where she'd silently curled up, praying that the morn would come quickly. Suddenly, Robert had tossed in his sleep. His foot shot out from under the comforter, slamming into her bottom as he viciously kicked her off the bed.

"Country trash does not sleep in my bed _._ " He'd snorted drunkenly as he contemptuously rolled over to sleep. She'd crept over to the tiny divan, careful not to soil the beautiful silk with her blood.

Netty had woken to the warmth of the sun streaming into the room, announcing a steamy summer morning on the wane. Her body ached all over. Her nose had swollen to twice its size and was canted to the side. She glanced at the bed, discovering her husband's absence with relief.

Running quickly to the door, she'd found it locked. Puzzled, her heart thumping wildly, she'd known it was not a good sign. As she gingerly dressed and packed, hoping to escape back to the cabin and her mama, she'd heard noises in the hallway. After some fumbling with the lock, the door slammed back against the wall with a bang. Her husband had strolled into the room accompanied by his manservant, Eli, and several older housemaids. Upon his order they'd grabbed her then plunked her down on a mahogany slipper chair. Amid her protests, she'd noticed Eli carried a large pair of sewing shears in his rough meaty hands.

Robert had proceeded to lay out the rules for her. She would be confined to the townhouse with no visitors. She would take all her meals in the kitchen before he returned from work and then retire to her own room. She would help with the packing during the day as they'd be leaving town to move to a mansion called Sunnydale in Norristown, in the neighboring county.

Her head had reeled with confusion. She'd realized Norristown was at least a hard two-day walk, maybe more, from the farm. Robert's automobile, a luxury in the eyes of poor country folk, frightened her, yet gave her confidence that the distance would be manageable for her, although not for her mama. That is if she was allowed to use the vehicle. As her visible panic mounted, she'd witnessed a signal from Robert. Two housemaids grabbed her arms, holding her down as Eli approached with the shears. Walking to the door, Robert appeared satisfied.

"This will be a small taste of my displeasure if you become a nuisance." Turning smartly, he'd dismissively left the room. Eli had then scooped up a fistful of her long gleaming tresses and, with one hack, her hair had disappeared.

She'd become his captive, isolated from all she knew. Her days had consisted of packing and desperately staying out of Robert's sight. She'd realized the cropping of her hair was meant to demoralize her. He needn't have bothered. She'd been so traumatized, she appeared to be the walking dead, even spooking the household staff. Her nose had begun to heal without the benefit of medical care. As a result, the cant had fused permanently, throwing her pleasant features off balance, making her almost unrecognizable. It also left an unsightly bump on the bridge of her nose. The dull and lifeless hair left on her scalp had begun to show signs of small bald spots brought on by stress. Over time, they'd become permanent.

And the rapes had continued. Not frequently, for she realized Robert actually despised her. But once a week, he returned home at dawn, pleased with himself and more inebriated than usual. He'd routinely appeared at her bedside naked, his ugly purple erection stupid with desire. She'd dared not cry out for fear he'd punish her in some sick evil way. So she'd acquiesced, silently wanting to kill him.

_Why, why, why me?_ _What did I do wrong? Why has Mama not come to visit me? Did they turn her away at the door?_ Not knowing had driven her crazy. If only she could get a message to her mama, she and Mr. Woods would rescue her.

*

As much as a month had passed since her ill-fated wedding, and the household packing was finally completed. Netty had decided to bribe a young housemaid with one of the coins given to her by Mr. Woods. God bless the miracle that had made Robert neglect to search her belongings and appropriate her purse.

She'd painstakingly written a message to her mama in her childish block letters, hiding it in her apron pocket with the coin, planning to pass it along to her young accomplice, a kitchen wench she'd managed to discreetly befriend.

The hardwood floors squeaked. Spinning around, Netty had seen Robert standing in the doorway. _Oh Lord, did he see me hide the note?_ His expression unreadable, she'd held her breath. Without preamble, he'd casually sat her in a chair and delivered the awful news. The sheriff had found her mama assaulted and murdered in their cabin. It appeared to have occurred several weeks ago. She need not plan a funeral; the body had already been interred. Netty had screamed, pitifully slumping to the floor.

*

Her cold silent tears brought Netty back to the present, sitting on the chilled floor of the lonely woods. Wiping away her useless teardrops, she carried on, not understanding the unrelenting compulsion. Her damaged feet continued to whimper their fruitless protest.

The cleft in the rocky hillside led her to the path that circled around a magnificent piece of granite, most likely deposited as glaciers moved across the continent during one of the many ice ages. The rock, a beacon to any child, had seduced her as well. It had become her private sanctuary. The place she ran to for dreaming, praying and saying goodbye to her creatures when her efforts to help their sufferings had failed.

Every creature she'd lost withered her young heart and caused her to rail at God for his indifference to the suffering of the innocent. In particular, her worst moments with God came after receiving a maimed creature, often dropped on her family's doorstop by a sympathetic neighbor, clearly intentionally harmed by someone. She knew instinctively that every creature was entitled to one thing: life. To steal that through abuse or indifference argued a crime against God. At her rock, she could cry or rail at God in private. As long as she was respectful to Him, she could exercise her frustration, vent, then return home to her makeshift hospital, ready to soldier on.

Sudden chattering from above drew her gaze. Two squirrels argued, probably over territory judging by the signals of their furious tail thumping. Brightening, she grasped the first handhold to climb the rock just as she'd done before her marriage. She gingerly pulled herself up, her eyes skimming over a pile of loose rocks at the base of the granite where it leaned into the hillside, something of a cairn that she didn't recall having seen before. Further on, she spied a fat rattlesnake sunning itself and coiled around the base of a young maple tree, frighteningly close to the pathway she would have to traverse on her way back out of the woods. She remembered the knoll was not called Snake Hill for nothing.

Reaching the top, she spotted the concave depression she'd used as a throne as a child. The seat was cold and sharp against her twenty-three-year-old rump. Suddenly, Netty saw another flash of rainbow color in the periphery of her vision, similar to the one that had visited her at the cabin. Was she coming down with something? Maybe a brain malady? She couldn't afford to get sick now, just as she was starting her new life. Memory returned to her last days at the mansion.

*

A truce of sorts had developed between her and Robert. Thankfully, he no longer demanded her attentions in the bedroom. They still lived in their Renaissance Revival mansion in Norristown, and occasionally she'd wandered the mansion at night while Robert was out late with his business partners. She'd loved admiring the high ceilings and beautiful carvings of their home, secretly investigating every nook and cranny.

She was forbidden to enter her husband's stunning library. The room was thirty eight by twenty five feet, and every inch of the dark oak walls was carved with intricate designs. The massive fireplace was dressed in an emerald-green marble surround with an amazing carved mantle that stretched all the way to the twelve-foot ceiling and which showcased Robert's valuable collection of antique American gold coins. She'd often spied him in the library, slobbering over them as if they were his children. The collection frequently impressed guests who'd stopped by to request favors or seek his advice.

She'd sat at her husband's extraordinary partners desk, the top made of the richest burled walnut. A partners lamp made by the talented Louis Comfort Tiffany rested comfortably where it could reflect the warmth of the fireplace. She'd pulled on the chain, casting light over the hand-carved body of the desk.

It was while admiring the intricate dark walnut carvings that she'd innocently discovered her husband's dark secrets. Accidently pressing a small carved bump that was part of the design on the inside wall of the cubby for her husband's legs, she'd discovered a secret panel. Upon excited investigation, she'd found the source of his unexplained wealth. It was certainly not family money as everyone had assumed. For inside the secret panel she'd also uncovered a shelf holding a copy of Robert's father's will.

Robert stood to inherit nothing. Except for the family townhouse, deeded to his five elder sisters, there was little of the Doyle fortune left. Expensive wedding dowries and even more expensive weddings had severely drained his father. Such was the cost of attracting suitably wealthy husbands. His sisters were set.

Netty had also uncovered receipts from the town clerk that showed Robert paid the taxes and upkeep of the family townhome, which __ had come as quite a surprise. _Hmm,_ she thought _, Robert is not known to be generous._

Upon further investigation, she'd found receipts for large sums of money to several town fathers and realized that he wielded much power and influence in their city. He ruled the county courthouse and was bowed and scraped to accordingly. Things started to add up, yet it made the question of why he'd married her even more mysterious. And what about the source of all of his money? Her suspicions had flamed wildly.

And there it had been, pushed to the very back of the secret drawer: a ledger, dog-eared and covered with spills, but legible. The ledger had contained payroll records, listing most of the names of his so-called friends and business partners. Taking in the columns of numbers along with dates and times, it had become clear. They were his employees. Last but not least had been a detailed account of shipping intake and disbursements. Glancing at the materials listed, any fool could have seen that her husband was a gin- and rum-runner. Law enforcement clearly rested in his back pocket. The late night partying at the carriage house now took on a new light. It also explained the presence of the thuggish strangers who'd seemed ever-present back there during the day.

Would it be possible to use this information to obtain her release? She'd often thought of murdering her husband to end her imprisonment, but knew she couldn't face her Lord if she took a life.

As she shuffled the papers and ledger back to their hiding place, her hands had dislodged an envelope she'd previously overlooked. Glancing at it quickly, she saw it was the last will and testament of James Woods; _her_ Mr. Woods.

It had taken her many years to begin to heal from the death of her mother, and just as long to bury her hurt and disappointment over Mr. Woods' abandonment. Perhaps he'd thought that now she was married, her days occupied her to the exclusion of old friends. She'd failed time and time again to convince Robert to let her visit him. Finally, Robert confessed to her that Mr. Woods had passed away shortly after her mother's death. It was presumed to have been a heart attack, as he'd been found in an alley not far from his home. He added the rumor that the family had inherited a sizeable fortune.

Netty had run her fingers tenderly over Mr. Woods' name, wondering why his will was in Robert's possession.

Out of curiosity, Netty had opened the contents of the envelope. Most of the text seemed to have been written in a legalese and jargon unfamiliar to her. She'd recognized the names of members of Mr. Woods' family and could see he'd taken care of them.

Suddenly, she recognized her own name on the last page: Jeannette Elizabeth Woods Smith. _Woods?_ _What is that_ _all about?_ _Quite an odd_ _mistake._ Tears had dropped softly to her lap as she realized Mr. Woods had not forgotten her at all. Reading on, she learned that he'd bequeathed to her all the two thousand acres surrounding the cabin her family had lived in.

She'd been incredulous. _Why was I not told? When did_ _this happen?_ Netty looked for a date on the will. On the signature line, she read that Mr. Woods had signed it about five years before her marriage. And underneath his signature was her husband's name as attorney of record. The stunning truth: _he'd always known._

Feeling a lump on her lap, she realized she'd overlooked more papers. Smoothing them out on the desk, a tiny map of the farm and their cabin unfolded. It had been attached to a message asking her husband to draw up the final contract for the transfer of Lots 1 thru 300, blocks 14 thru 46 to the O'Reilly Development Corp. _He is selling part of the farm: my farm?_

Netty considered the implications. Mr. Woods' family must have wondered about the strange bequest. They must have been aware of it. If the will legally conveyed title to the property, she'd been the legal owner for many years. Her thoughts and emotions had turned upside down with confusion while her sneaking anger had grown. She couldn't understand her husband's motives for hiding her inheritance. It left her only one choice. She must challenge him and wrench the truth from him.

Dare she hope that this might be the vehicle for her escape from her insufferable existence? She'd thought it might be, but she must take pains to be careful. Breathing deeply, she'd tried to calm down. She desperately needed to think straight.

Pocketing the evidence, she'd risen to her feet. Unnerved at the sound of the front door opening, she'd scampered out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom. Frantically, she'd searched for the wedding purse she'd hidden away years ago. Yes, her silver coins were still there. She'd looked wildly around her small bedroom. Clothes; she needed suitable attire. She must be ready to run if things went wrong. Her nightclothes would not be seemly.

" _Netty._ " She'd heard her husband bellow loud enough to wake the dead, certainly the household staff. He'd sounded drunk as usual and more angry than normal. With no time to change, she'd scooped up a heavy woolen shawl, slipping her purse and the papers securely into a deep pocket.

Quickly, she'd descended to the foyer stairs where her husband waited. He'd stood at the entrance to the library, shaking with rage, his face purple and ready to explode. In his hands, he'd held papers. Her heart had fluttered painfully.

In her haste, she'd neglected to replace them in the secret drawer. Her courage had deserted her. This wasn't how she'd intended to pry information from him. She'd cowered at the thought of her lost advantage. Springing forward, Robert had painfully caught her wrist, dragging her into the room.

"Do you have any explanation as to why my private papers have been rifled through?"

Netty had ignored the question. Mustering a shaky voice, she'd confronted him. "I should like an explanation for this, Robert."

He'd appeared stunned to find the tiny map in her hand. She'd watched as the realization of her knowledge dawned across his face. Without any warning, he'd balled his hand into a fist, punching her hard in the stomach.

"I told you never to question me," he'd whispered, the venom in his voice dripping poison. Dragging her to a chair, she'd doubled over, unable to breathe. Robert screamed for Eli. It hadn't taken him long to appear, his leering grin a sign he'd hoped for some excitement. Looking wildly from Robert to Netty, he'd waited for a command. With a nod from Robert, Eli had put his meaty paws on her, holding her down with his well-muscled brown arms, his reeking breath bathing her neck while Robert paced.

_This will not be good,_ Netty had thought as she'd tried to sit up. She'd been able to hear Robert muttering angrily under his breath. His words had grown louder as he'd increased his cursing. Her ears had perked up when she'd heard her mother's name; something about her mother being difficult _._

_Shapely . . . just get rid of her, but she tempted me . . . the tramp . . . firm thighs . . . spread her legs for James Woods when they were kids. Choking the life out of her . . . Satisfaction . . . brat to meet a similar fate_.

Unthinking, Netty had cried out in shock. "You killed Mama? Why? Why?"

Robert's eyes had zeroed in on Netty. She'd cringed in her chair, Eli still holding her down. As Robert had moved to grab her, the front doorbell had rung. Robert froze, his hand raised to strike. He'd ordered Eli to answer the door.

They'd listened as Eli explained that Robert was indisposed. The men at the door insisted they see him as his presence was needed at the carriage house. To make matters worse for Robert, the chief of police had accompanied them, a little matter of his cut. Clearly, it would take Robert's intervention to make them go away, so he'd prepared to step into the foyer.

Hissing venomously to Netty as he'd left, he'd flayed her with his glinting eyes. " _Don't you dare_ _move._ "

Netty had sprung to her feet as soon as his back had been turned. She knew Robert's plan for her. Now she must run, even as she'd seethed with anger and shock over the night's revelations.

Glancing toward the fireplace, her eyes had caught the reflected glow of Robert's prized gold coins. Without thinking, she'd grabbed one, thrusting it into her undergarments, then dashed out the French door to the terrace.

From there she'd begun her long journey to Sussex County. Hiding in barns at night and staying to the wooded edge of the roads by day, she'd resolutely limped her way, stumbling over rocks and ruts, ignoring the protests of her tender bleeding feet.

*

Netty's thoughts were suddenly yanked back to the present. _Did I doze off?_ She realized she'd dawdled away hours of valuable time with her reminiscing. The late afternoon air was cool and she knew it was time to get back to the cabin to light the evening's fire.

The small object still hidden under her bodice dug into her chest. She reached in to adjust it, first drawing it out to admire, the coin glinting in the late afternoon light. Yes, it was the coin she'd purloined from her husband's collection.

She hesitated to use it for cabin repairs, as it would draw too much attention. She suspected her husband might not come after her. After all, she legally owned the cabin now. But she'd no intention of giving him another excuse. She didn't want to be accused of robbery. People had a dim view of stealing in these parts, it was a serious crime.

Netty finally realized that Robert had only married her for the land. And it was now clear to her that her real father had been Mr. Woods. It explained so much. She loved her papa dearly, but she also loved Mr. Woods. She felt lucky to have had two good men in her life. Pulling up her bodice to replace the coin, it inexplicably slipped from her stiff, chilled fingers. _Lord!_ She watched as it bounced off the rock and over the edge. She scrambled up to hear it ping on the rocks below. Leaning over, she saw it bounce all the way to the cairn of stones she'd noticed on her ascent up the path. It glinted in the sun, mocking her. There was no choice but to climb down and retrieve it. Rolling up the legs on her torn and faded trousers, she slipped down from the granite rock.

As Netty approached the cairn, she saw it was much larger than she'd first thought. She reached to pick up the coin, her fingers dislodging a stone, sending the coin deeper into the mound. Ugh, the prospect of digging the coin out lacked appeal. She wanted to go home to the cabin. Grumbling, she lowered herself to the ground, pushing stones out of her way. Progress was slow, her feet hurt and she quickly tired. The light dimmed as her digging created a large hole in the side of the hill. _Where's the darn coin?_ Netty decided she'd come back tomorrow when she'd be stronger. This had proved to be a bigger job than she'd expected. Rising to her feet, she brushed off her apron. In the periphery of her vision she saw a flash of colored light. An aura. _Again?_ Not knowing what to make of it, she shrugged to herself and prepared for the trek back to the cabin.

# Chapter 2

The Oolahan tried to shake off its sleepy weariness. Its tiny limbs, withered and leather-like, coiled protectively around its cooling body. Its small round head, perched upon its swiveled neck, was devoid of the fur that normally protected its face. Its perfectly round eyes, with their abundant lashes missing, were shut tight. It could feel that the fluid in its body was still low, making its eyes dry and cracked, its vision useless. Its long dense tail thumped weakly, unable to expel its healing light waves, although it could not project them on to itself, anyway.

Scattered around the great cavern were the large black fragments of its transport. It had no idea how long it had been in the cavern. It felt an urgency to begin the implementation of its mission, but unfortunately the details of the purpose eluded it. Sensing its presence, the creature thought perhaps the Womb could help. Why hadn't it given him instructions? It needed help to recover and remember the mission.

Taking matters into its own hands, it decided to summon help. It sensed that the life force to which it called might be close. It didn't worry, as it knew the life force would find its way eventually.

The creature ruminated, remembering its Brothers and Sisters back home. Many of the Oolahan were preparing for breeding. Breeding, a critical necessity for the Womb, meant death for the Oolahan. Once upon a time, the Oolahan had enjoyed immortality. They became Elders, learning the skills of the Womb, instead of being minions. Creativity exploded. So much could be done for life with so many solar systems to work with.

Disaster occurred when the Elders had decided to use their own genetic material to experiment with. Their experiment introduced one of the most destructive elements ever seen on a fertile planet. Unfortunately, the planet happened to be a long time favorite of the Womb.

As a result, the Womb had punished the Oolahan, denying them the privilege of immortality. A protein was introduced into their system, nullifying the hormones and enzymes that enabled their forever life. And they were forbidden to ever heal the results of their ill-fated experiment. Through the act of healing, it was discovered that the Oolahan could accidently pass to the life form the very protein that unlocked the introduced enzymes which triggered immortality.

The Womb agreed not to destroy the life form, only to monitor them until it became intolerable. The forbidden life form was not the only life that grew out of control. When a species on any world overwhelmed another to the point of extinction, or imbalance, the Womb would intervene.

Often, it meant the elimination of the offending species, and then the Womb would rain destruction, allowing new life to take its turn at evolution.

The Oolahan didn't need to breed, as their numbers were enough to satisfy the Womb. But once they had been stripped of immortality, they began to die. Their only recourse was to breed their own replacements. Since they had originally been created by the Womb to act as its minions, the only way to breed was by incubating a cell from the host; a simple matter. The new cell was then implanted inside the dying Oolahan, taking nourishment from the host until it was ready to emerge, bringing about the eventual death of the host Oolahan.

Each Oolahan prepared a life cell then expertly implanted themselves: their talent was creating life. It was an intensely personal matter. After implantation was deemed successful and the cell was dividing well, the breeding was announced. Upon Emergence, the Oolahan Brothers and Sisters preserved the afterbirth with its valuable cells, took charge of the new naive Oolahan and monitored the disposition of the deceased, who would expire within a very short time.

This Oolahan had missed the opportunity to report its Breeding before it was chosen for the mission. Easily overlooked in the excitement of its preparations, the breeding had remained unreported. Signs of life inside the minion became apparent after it had started its journey to this world. But it alone had been aware of its condition. Had its condition been known, it would have been rejected for the flight.

It knew the Emergence had occurred sometime after landing. Evidence of dried and useless afterbirth abounded. Had it been conscious during the Emergence, the healing waves of the afterbirth might have prolonged its life. If the Emergence had occurred back home, it would have been surrounded by Brothers and Sisters, experts in the science of rechanneling. The rechanneling of waves from the afterbirth had the ability to prolong life for a short time, long enough to make preparations to salvage its valuable cells. It should have expired by now. For some strange reason, it still lived, although just barely. Either way, the mission had been doomed from the start. The creature wondered how long it had to live as it continued to sort out the confusion of its circumstances.

Apparently, hibernation and the birth had changed its body chemistry, altered it in some fashion upon successful landing and burrowing. Or had it been caused during the entry into this different atmosphere? Was it because of the new Oolahan's Emergence? Did the fact that Emergence had happened on this new planet somehow interfere with the chemical compounds in its system?

Not being genetically programmed for maternal or paternal feelings, it didn't show concern about the whereabouts of its offspring. But it did worry about its mission. Maybe in time it could sort things out, but right now it needed to concentrate on attracting the life force to it. It needed its sustenance.

It was not within the fabric of its species to hurt living creatures. Its species revered all life. For an eternity, their sole purpose had been to study and enhance life. The Elders had been fiercely ambitious. The creature suspected its mission had something to do with the changes in its species' priorities since the life-altering mistake of the Elders. Their attention had turned from their business in the stars to their own survival. At the moment, the creature had no idea how the details of its mission could be recovered. So it decided to meet one necessity at a time.

The creature tried to lift its confused head, bringing on a sharp pain accompanied by dizziness. It had somehow been damaged. It felt its useless wings crumpled and cramped under its tiny body. It tried desperately to remember something about the life forms of this planet. Unable to focus, it wondered if it was due to the unexpected presence of its offspring, the atmosphere of the planet or complications during the Emergence. _Oh, did I already have that thought?_

As the creature drew in the life form, it planned to take what was needed and leave the life form essentially unchanged for now. The current in its veins quickened as its crystal-like antlers picked up the distant sounds. The sounds were very faint, the entrance to its shelter being so far away and at a different elevation. Soon the next chapter of its mission would start, but sadly, it had little hope for success, as its death, due to the Emergence, was probably not far off.

*

Netty labored long and hard to remove stones and larger rocks from what appeared to be the entrance to a tunnel. She felt dog tired. How or why she continued was beyond her comprehension. The sun had set hours ago and the cold numbed her fingers. _Who in the world dug a tunnel way out here and why should I care?_ Her poor feet screamed, her sores begging for a good soaking. Netty found she could now stand in the mouth in the tunnel.

Straightening up and standing tall, she realized she could actually see inside what should have been a pitch-black interior. Reaching out, she touched one of the walls, feeling its hard, compressed and slightly burnt texture. She quickly withdrew her hand as the wall felt suddenly squishy and wet. Examining her hand, she found it bone dry.

Quickly moving away from the strange wall, she took tiny steps into the tunnel. As she shuffled along, she noticed the absence of debris on the floor _. Odd,_ she thought. _And why is it that I have no trouble seeing in the dark?_ Actually, it no longer appeared to be night. It seemed to be more like daylight. _What is this place?_

She trudged on, noticing tunnels branching off the main artery into many other directions. A quick peek astonished her with the breadth and the height of the other branches. She must be careful or she'd get lost.

She then found herself crossing a huge cathedral of a cavern. Time passed as she continued on, sticking to the main artery. From time to time, she rubbed her hand along a normal-looking wall. The harder she pressed it, the deeper her hand disappeared. Yet each time her hand remained dry when withdrawn. She eventually noticed a distinct change of grade, signaling her descent. Her shivering ceased as the cave chased away her chill.

Netty suddenly stopped her trek. She turned to the right, noticing a small opening to what appeared to be a chamber. Puzzled about an irresistible compulsion which unexpectedly gripped her, she paused, then entered the chamber.

Clearing the little opening, she gasped at the sight of what appeared to be a dead infant lying on a rock ledge. As she approached the child, she realized her first impression had been wrong. It was not a child at all, she could clearly make out a tail. She edged closer, her heart going out to the poor creature, which had probably found an opening to the cavern and crawled inside to die, safely away from the forest predators. _But what such creature is this?_ The tiny shriveled body was unrecognizable. It was obviously female, as she didn't see any signs of genitalia. She strangely saw no overt signs of decay. Cradling the creature's head in her hands, she prayed over it, asking God to accept another of his children into his arms.

As Netty's eyes were clenched in prayer, she failed to notice the creature's tail rising. She tenderly cradled the creature's head, feeling sudden warmth. Opening her eyes, she saw the little creature's limbs had unfurled and taken on a rosy golden hue, although the texture still looked like that of dissected leather.

Suddenly, she spotted the tail hanging in the air. The end was now shaped like a large bulb, extruding a thick fibrous membrane. She felt a wave of pressure and detected a stinky aroma. _Good heavens, the creature is alive_. Startled, but not yet frightened, she dropped the creature back on the rock ledge, stepping back. As she watched, the creature slowly opened its eyes. They then shut, just as slowly, as if in great pain. A weak mewing sound emanated from its body, yet its mouth failed to move.

Netty felt suddenly weak and fell down flat on her generous bottom, her skin tingling. The creature's eyes opened again and watched her. It didn't move. _Perhaps it cannot_ , she thought. _Maybe I should take it home._ She could nurse it back to health. They stared at each other for several minutes; the creature on the ledge, Netty on the chamber floor. She wondered how long she'd been inside the cavern. She should be getting home to bed, but realized she no longer felt bone tired. Standing up, she discovered her feet no longer hurt, either. She dismissed her good fortune, grateful she'd now have the strength to walk back through the cavern and home with the tiny creature in her arms.

Brushing herself off, she approached gingerly, trying not to frighten the creature. Carefully, she slid her hands under its sunken belly, giving extra support to its head. It mewed again. Looking into its expressionless face, it blinked then stared at her, but offered no protest. _Easy_ she thought, _I do not want it to bite me, although it looks like it surely does not have the strength_. She placed the creature up over her shoulder, as you would an infant, and gently rubbed its back to reassure it.

"There, there, little girl, Netty will take care of you." Slipping off her apron, she placed it around the little creature's pitiful shoulders and started her trek out of the cavern and back home.

*

The Oolahan had felt the emotions of the life source as it headed toward The Hive. It could feel the life source was benevolent but in pain. That always made things more difficult. It knew pain made other creatures unpredictable and dangerous. It couldn't have that.

A noise outside its chamber had announced the arrival. The life source stepped into sight. It was a female, a Sister, a mature one. Could that make a difference? She was staring, seemingly transfixed. _That is good, a little closer,_ it prayed. _And yes_. The Sister placed her hands on the Oolahan, allowing it to suck in the life-giving energy that would nourish it back to health. _How did she know?_ How wonderfully easy. Since its tail now had enough energy to expel, it let loose on the Sister in a gesture of gratitude, completely forgetting it was forbidden by The Womb.

It could sense great worry from the Sister _. Why is that? Can she not see?_ The Oolahan stared at her as it tried to understand her actions. The Sister stared back. It felt the Sister picking it up. It panicked, mewing a complaint, then relaxed as the Sister rubbed its back.

_Things are clearly out of control,_ the Oolahan thought as it helplessly felt the Sister place a cloth over its body. It remained motionless as the Sister walked out of the cavern with the Oolahan over her shoulder.

# Chapter 3

Netty struggled with the unwieldy broken door of the cabin, juggling the creature as she fought with the warped boards that were her protection from the elements. The creature had made no further sound as she trudged with her burden from the woods, her wayward gold coin having been returned to its hiding place under her bodice.

She moved directly to her old straw mat by the fireplace. Fresh straw and a good sweep and dusting had made the room serviceable. Much of her mama's possessions had been ransacked or stolen. Having purchased a used rocker and some pots, she knew a warm fire and something in their stomachs was all they needed for now.

She set the creature gently on the straw mat and got busy making a fire. Soon, the cabin filled with the sounds of crackling wood and warm air that aggressively pushed away the evening chill.

Netty finally had time to sit in her split-oak rocker as her dinner pot simmered over the fire. She studied the creature as it appeared to study her, its expressive eyes now appearing bright and swirly with golden hues. _How odd, yet beautiful_. The little thing had looked dead, but she'd clearly been mistaken. She reminded herself what she knew from hard experience: whatever injury or illness gripped the odd creature could still bring about its death.

Netty decided she must give the poor thing an exam. She approached it carefully, although she no longer feared it would bite. She saw its limbs appeared shrunken and withered with a sort of attachment at the end of what appeared to be its legs. The attachment looked like a foot of sort, but it wobbled when she moved it. _Is it broken?_

The creature didn't appear to feel any pain when she wiggled it. She examined its head, noticing that it wiggled like the foot. She gently turned its body to the side to examine underneath. As she did so, she noticed the creature's head turning to follow. And turn and turn _. That cannot be._ _It is a physical impossibility._

Looking closer, she found the creature simply had a different type of bone structure, allowing its head to rotate around the body, as its feet probably could too. On the creature's back, she found herself amazed by a crumpled structure that almost appeared to be tiny leathery wings; _the poor thing_. She wondered what unfortunate fate had come knocking at the creature's door. She picked up the creature's lovely tail. Since they'd left the woods, a subtle sheen had colored its crinkled leathery skin, fine golden hairs sprouting. Its abdomen was now round and gold, firm to the touch. The striking similarity between its hands and those of the great apes from the dark continent of Africa entranced her.

The differences jumped out at her. She wanted to touch the very fragile and elongated fingers with itty, bitty fingernails just like hers. Turning them over she could make out tiny dark swirls that actually looked like a device for suction. _Interesting_ . . .

Taking the creature's head in her hands, she stroked what looked like golden fuzz on its head, stopping at the point where two glittery antlers emerged from the rear of its head, growing forward and twining together like a crown. They almost looked like they were made of glass. _How can that be?_

The creature suddenly smiled at her, and she felt her bruised and withered heart miss a beat. Continuing the exam, she decided it surely looked like an odd and improbable creature. _Well, I am an odd creature myself, am I not?_

But it must have a name. In the back of Netty's mind, she was mulling over the idea of keeping the creature. It smiled again which transformed Netty's loneliness for a brief moment. She didn't know where it came from or what it was, but she already loved it.

That settled the matter. She felt desperately lonely and this poor creature needed her. It was probably a baby. She needed a baby. So it was settled. She would call it Baby. In the back of her head she heard the echo, "Bay-bee," a whisper of golden colors, like an aura. Netty shook her head, cursing her sleepiness.

She hurriedly spooned up some vegetable broth from her cooking kettle over the fire, swallowing quickly. She placed a bowl of water at the side of the straw mat for Baby and took herself off to bed after banking the fire and making sure the door to the cabin was firmly shut. Tomorrow would bring plenty of chores to catch up on.

*

Baby lay quietly on the straw mat. He found himself quite comfortable. The tall Sister's behavior had been non-threatening. He wondered what he was to do with the bowl she'd left next to the mat. Was it for him? He sat up, spilling the liquid on the floor. He realized how unsteady he still was. Ignoring the spilled liquid, he put the bowl on his head, hooking it over his crown of antlers.

He decided to stay and observe the Sister and see where this relationship would go. He'd no idea as to his offspring's whereabouts. The urgency of his mission slowly began to fade. Perhaps if he'd been a Sister, his recovery since landing would have been different. But he was here now and knew he needed the tall Sister's hand on him again until he found a new energy source. As he recovered, he would hear her more fully in his mind. Fleetingly, he wondered how much longer he would live until his expiration.

Looking around the small room, he wondered where Sister had disappeared to. Spotting the door to Netty's bedroom, he hopped up from the straw mat and worked at the door handle with his long thin fingers. His feet made soft plunks as he wobbled his way over to the jumbled platform she rested upon. Placing one foot on the bed frame, he twisted his entire body to a perpendicular level as his hands gripped the covers, placing his other foot higher on the frame until he swiveled to the top of the bed. Carefully burrowing under the blanket into the curve of Netty's belly, he promptly went to sleep.

*

Netty woke, feeling the best she had since, well, since she'd been a young girl, working on the farm with her mama and papa. The memory warmed her and she stretched heartily.

"Oh." Shocked to feel something hard and cold in bed with her, she reached under her covers, pulling out the bowl she'd left at Baby's bedside. Ripping off the covers, she discovered Baby curled up and looking up at her wide-eyed. Baby's eyelashes were now quite pronounced with thick, shimmering golden hairs. Golden fur sprouted all over her head tapering to uniform fuzz, covering her entire body. Her leathery extremities were now soft and supple having filled out. Even her concave abdomen had plumped up, giving her a little tummy. As Netty watched, Baby solemnly picked up the bowl and placed it back on her head atop her crown of antlers. Then Baby smiled. Netty sat stunned. Charmed and enchanted, she gathered Baby into her arms as tears rolled down her cheeks. Baby's long fingers traced the path of a tear, the bowl falling off her head. A flash of rainbow light and a pressure in her head shattered the moment. The pressure lessened, leaving a golden aura and a whispered word, seemingly from inside her head.

"Sister?"

Netty, confused, whipped her head around, finally resting her eyes on Baby. _It cannot be. Am I going mad?_

They sat, just staring at one another. Netty finally reached out to stroke Baby again, with wonder and amazement. She sensed the pressure in her mind recede, leaving a softer presence. Timidly, she tried to relax her mind. As Baby continued to stare intently, she felt a whisper.

"I am Brother _._ "

Brother? Baby is a little boy?

"Yes, my Sister."

_Is the presence reading my thoughts?_ The aura faded. Netty's mind felt empty as she searched its corners, frantic to find the golden aura. _Nothing_. Baby just stared, his golden rainbow eyes unblinking.

_Well,_ Netty thought, _this is a puzzle_. _Has my debilitated condition allowed my mind to play tricks on me?_ Warily, she decided to be patient, the answers would come. At least she realized she didn't need to worry about healing Baby. He seemed to have done just fine on his own.

_Time to put the kettle on the fire,_ she thought, leaving Baby on her bed and wondering if she'd imagined the words in her head. She wrapped her robe tightly around her as the morning chill depressed her with the memory of the overwhelming work she still faced.

The cabin warmed as her breakfast kettle simmered. She wondered what Baby might need to eat. Ruefully, she realized she was ill equipped to take care of this magnificent creature, so different from all the other woodland creatures she'd ever tended. _How did I miss this one?_ she wondered. Perhaps he was just rare. _Oh well, he belongs with me_ _now, unless he decides to return to the woods_. Netty dismissed the discovery of the giant cavern as none of her business.

She returned to the bedroom to wash and change into her work clothes. Glancing toward the bed, she saw that Baby had moved to her pillow, perching on it with his golden legs crossed, just like a little man. _Oh, maybe Baby is not an infant_. She went to him, picking him up to kiss his face. He made a chuffing sound, but sent no more whispers.

With a last kiss and cuddle, Netty set Baby back on the bed. She moved to a simple cupboard in the corner of the room to remove another pair of her papa's overalls which had been overlooked by the looters. Slipping off her nightgown, she observed a slightly trimmer waist than she was used to seeing. Not surprised, she considered her flight from her husband's clutches, her hard work and the meager meals she now afforded herself. Moving over to her washstand, she dipped her cloth into water warmed from the fire. She loved the feeling of the cloth suffusing the water's warmth into her skin. As she dawdled at the washstand, she felt thrown by the unfamiliar feeling of her nose through the washcloth. Something felt wrong; different.

Dropping the cloth from her hands, she peered into the mirror over the wash bowl, speechless. Her nose looked as straight as it had been on the day of her birth, the bump nonexistent. It was the old Netty looking back at her, albeit older. Suddenly, remembering her previous night's activities, she looked down at her feet. They were devoid of any scabs or sores, not to mention the pain that had disappeared last night. She whirled to her bed and stared at Baby. _Can it be?_ She sat down, picking up Baby's tail, remembering the pressure in the chamber and the strange smell. She sniffed Baby's tail fur, not seeing the strange membrane from last night, but clearly smelling a faint trace of sulfur.

Stunned, Netty backed away from Baby, her thoughts in a whirl. Obviously elated over the changes in her appearance and overwhelmed with the happiness Baby's presence portended, these miracles defied logic. _Wait, that's it._ They were just miracles, not a sign of the devil as she'd begun to fear. Miracles were sent by God. She ran to Baby and stared into his amazing eyes; whirling colors glimmering at her. She felt a tentative touch in her mind.

"God?" Baby whispered.

"Yes." Netty felt relief course through her body. "God, our Father."

"Father." The aura sent the whisper into her mind.

"Yes, our Father protects us all, we are all his children," she said.

"Offspring?" Baby whispered.

"Yes, yes, Baby, we are all one," cried Netty.

"Yes, the Womb," her mind whispered, golden aura dancing. "Womb is father. Father, Brother, Sister." Baby smiled. And Netty smiled. Somehow, they'd made a breakthrough. She didn't know what 'the Womb' meant, but did it really matter? She knew everything would be just fine.

As Netty gathered her tools for her day's work, she ladled out a portion of breakfast porridge for Baby. Baby ignored it, spending his time following closely at her heels and inspecting everything she touched. Netty stepped out the door on to her stoop. The air contained a vague coolness, but the bright sun and translucent blue sky would soon warm her up. Planning to head to her family's old orchard to survey what might be salvaged, she noticed Baby had lain down on the stoop, arms outstretched. She called out to him with no response. Bending over to shake him, she felt rigidity. She bent over, intending to return him to her bed, when she felt the golden aura in her mind.

"Sister, I am eating."

Netty looked closer. She could actually see dust motes dancing in what looked like rays being absorbed into Baby's leathery extremities.

"Hungry, Sister. My eating is slow. Go. I will find you."

Netty felt a sense of wellbeing flood her mind. So, leaving Baby, she made her way to the orchard. Work couldn't stop just because she couldn't understand what Baby thought he was eating.

Netty made her way down the road and over the slight rise to take a look at the orchard. Her family had harvested many apples, pears and her favorite black walnuts for years. She had vivid memories of removing the yellow-green husk of the walnut with its icky messy black underside, and cracking the shell to get to the fresh tart-sweet meat. Her mama used the meat in her baking, stews and breads, claiming the nut was a wonderful substitute for costly trips to Mr. Simpson's butcher's shop in town.

Mr. Simpson was a scary man. He never smiled unless he was wielding his big knives on the carcass of a poor creature. His wife appeared to be terrified of him. At any rate, Netty wanted to stay away from town as much as possible. The walnut grove would be a great help to her diet.

Netty knew Sussex County had experienced blight a few years back. It hadn't spread to Norris County so she was unaware of the extent of the devastation. Hopefully, her orchard had been spared. As she topped the hill, her hopes sank. As far as she could see, her trees were nude, with only a few lonely leaves clinging hopelessly to the diseased branches. Worse yet, the trees were deformed and displayed huge hardened growths spilling from the trunks, obviously a symptom of the blight. She realized the canning supplies she'd purchased on her last walk to town wouldn't be filled with the fruits and jams she'd need to help get her through the winter as she'd planned.

Discouraged, she turned and started back to the cabin, planning to spend the rest of the day turning over soil in another field. She knew large supplies of seeds remained buried in caskets, hidden in the ground inside her former animal hospital. She hoped to plant enough to sell the surplus to travelers on the road into town.

Glancing up, she saw Baby heading toward her from the bottom of the hill, his little feet clumping and wobbling at the same time. She sat and waited for him to reach her. She saw the rainbow flash in her mind's eye, and heard the whisper.

"Sister sad?"

Gathering Baby into her lap, she buried her face in his fur. The little rascal actually looked plump. As he smiled at her with rainbow eyes glowing, she noticed he didn't have any teeth. Prying open his mouth she discovered he had no tongue. Removing her hands from his mouth, she wondered how he could eat or drink. Baby certainly puzzled her.

"Come along, Baby, we have much to do today." She stood, ready to head home. Looking down, she saw Baby still sitting with his mouth wide open. She gently reached down and, with her fingertips, she closed his mouth. Laughing, she thought about how happy and lighthearted he made her feel, even in the face of discouragement. As she walked back to the cabin, she turned to see if Baby followed. Yes, he shuffled behind, rotating his head on its swivel, allowing him to stare at the fading orchard as he followed Netty home.

After a quick lunch of cold porridge leftover from breakfast, Netty retired with Baby to the field she'd begun to till the day before. As she collected the larger of the fieldstones, piling them to the side of the field, Baby observed her intently.

"Food?" he probed in her mind.

"No, Baby, we are going to plant seed in the soil to _grow_ our food." Progress was slow, but as she tilled the soil she could smell the rich organic loam _. Hard work never killed anyone,_ she thought, energized by the idea of the independence her crops could provide her.

As the afternoon wore on, she made excellent progress. The part of the field she was working in was now clear of rock. She raked the smaller stones to the side, adding to her pile of rock which she planned to use as field boundary markers. She knew her papa and Mr. Woods never wasted anything on the farm. Everything had a purpose. Even the weeds from the field would be used in her giant compost pile. If this season's planting were successful, it would enable her to sell more at her stand. Her fervent hope was to purchase a horse to help her plow the field next season.

Netty found herself filled with new hope and plans for her success; an overwhelming change from yesterday. And she knew she had Baby to thank. She reached up to happily rub her nose, smiling at him as he lay rigidly stretched out under an oak tree. _Eating_ _again_ , she laughed to herself. She felt feather fingers stroke her mind, the golden aura infusing her.

"Yes, Sister."

_Oops, I had better watch that, not much privacy with Baby_.

Netty realized Baby had brought a big lift to her spirits. The fact that he spoke to her without using words was an unexplained phenomenon. Yet, for the first time in years, she dared to think that she wasn't alone. She knew she would go to bed tonight with anticipation for the new day instead of the normal dread.

Maybe tomorrow she could begin some planting. She'd like to get a jump on the season, then continue clearing the field. Calling to Baby, she picked up her tools and started home. It had been quite a day.

As Netty approached the door to the cabin, she dropped her tools, planning to open up the seed caskets and scope out her selections for the morning. Some of the beans would require soaking overnight before they could be planted.

Walking to the back field, she let herself into her makeshift hospital, now used strictly for storage. Taking a trowel, she went to the earthen floor under the single window where she knew her papa used to store the seed. Scraping off the top few inches of soil, she exposed the caskets. Even though they were really half caskets, they were still terribly heavy.

Lifting them out of their hole, she lined them up and popped the lids. They came off unusually easily. One sniff of the seeds told the story. Rot. She spilled a casket on to the floor. Most of the seeds were covered with a layer of mold. She was unable to tell how many of the seeds were still good, unwilling to waste precious energy and tilled space to plant bad seeds in the hope they might germinate.

Her exultant mood evaporated. She dispiritedly left the animal hospital, passing by Baby as she let herself into the cabin. Baby's neck swiveled toward the hospital. Realizing he'd remained outside, Netty returned to the door to call to him. The last thing she recalled before the pressure hit her was Baby's golden tail in the air.

Netty picked herself up from the floor, having landed on her bottom again. She detected the same odor she remembered from the cavern. Sulfur. _What just happened? Did it mean something?_ Netty stood rooted to the spot, confusion immobilizing her as Baby strolled past her to the straw mat at the fireplace as if nothing had happened.

_Well,_ she shrugged _._ _I guess that means it is time for dinner._ Putting on the dinner pot, she grabbed a potato from the bin. She wondered if Baby would eat something this time. Putting out a bowl of water for him, she completed dinner and served it on her rickety table. Baby shuffled to the table, again wearing the water bowl on his head. Netty dropped her spoon and laughed. Maybe someday Baby would tell her what it meant. She finished dinner, noticing Baby didn't touch his soup. Clearing the dishes, she dried her hands and headed to the outhouse to make her nightly ablutions.

As she opened the outhouse door, first looking for rattlesnakes, it occurred to her that she'd seen no signs that Baby had the same necessity. Assuming Baby was simply a woodland creature she'd never encountered before, she took herself off to bed. _Why worry over something that really does not matter?_ she thought. She was beginning to love Baby even as he continued to mystify her. Her last thought that evening was how comforted she felt with Baby again pressed up against her as he slept curled under the covers by her tummy.

*

Netty and Baby woke the next morning to another beautiful day. Unfortunately, Netty's outlook for her planting was so low that she found climbing out of bed a miserable chore. She planned to sift through the seeds to see if she could find a few that might be salvageable. If she had to spend any of the last of her silver coins on new seed, she could have great difficulty stocking in the supplies she'd need to get the two of them through the winter.

As it was, she would lose her opportunity to get a jump on the planting. By the time she'd traveled back and forth to town and planted the new seed, she could lose a full week. She knew she couldn't take Baby to town with her and was unwilling to leave him alone just yet, afraid he might decide to return to the woods if she left him. She couldn't bear the thought.

Shrugging into her work clothes after breakfast, she grabbed a small basket from the kitchen to store the few seeds she hoped to salvage from the caskets. She noticed Baby was already stretched out on the stoop in what was becoming his customary eating position _. Whatever that means,_ she thought. Arriving in front of her old animal hospital, she slid the sliding wood door completely back to let in as much sunlight as possible. As she stood in the small room, she didn't at first grasp what her eyes registered, not fully adjusted to the dimness. Slowly, awareness crept over her and she sank to her knees. Reaching out, she gingerly touched the little plants that lay all over the ground where yesterday she'd spilled moldy seeds. _This cannot be_. She quickly ran to the other caskets and found them chock full of little plants, all looking to burst out of their confinement and reach for the sun. Netty ran for the broken wheelbarrow she'd paid to have repaired. She hurriedly loaded it to the brim, worrying about their survival with no soil or water. No time to ponder on this new miracle, she quickly started down the road to her field, shouting to Baby as she passed him on the stoop.

*

By the time Baby made it to the field, she'd one beautiful row of seedlings in the ground and was digging holes for the second row. Distracted, she hardly noticed Baby, who approached the field, shining eyes focused intently on her as she planted. As she straightened up, wiping grime off her face, she watched as Baby made a hole with his fragile little fingers, plucked a plant from the wheelbarrow and buried it. Astonished and elated, Netty briefly wondered who had taught this to Baby.

Before long, Netty found herself running back to the hospital to refill the wheelbarrow and pick up lunch as Baby continued to do the planting. By late afternoon, Netty dripped with exhaustion. She glanced at Baby, now curled up inside the empty wheelbarrow and grinning at her with his amazing eyes doing their usual flashing. As tired as she felt, she still retained enough energy to scoop him into her arms and rub her face against his. Holding him on her hip like a mother would a child, she swung around to admire their work: row upon row of glowing greenery: corn, tomatoes, squash, beans, peppers, radishes, onions, watermelon, and honeydew. Even patches of strawberries and raspberries. _Hmm_ , Netty thought, _the plants sure appear taller from where I stand._

"Sister, eat," came the whispered aura in her mind.

"Yes, yes, yes." She laughed. "Soon, Baby. Now we must be patient while we wait for the plants to mature. We sure did a good job." Turning her back to the crops, she plunked Baby down into the wheelbarrow and started down the road.

Her thoughts were happy ones, full of a hopeful future. Now she felt they stood a chance. Funny how she automatically thought in terms of _they_. Yes, they could be a family, the two of them.

She took a deep breath, drawing in the sweet twilight air, reminiscence of apple blossoms. She stopped suddenly; _apple blossoms?_ She turned her nose and sniffed, the smell deliciously overpowering.

Dropping the wheelbarrow, she sprinted up the hill where the road to the orchard branched off, struck dumb by her discovery.

Tall with straight clean trunks they stood, bursting with blossoms: apple, crab apple, pear and wild cherry, and her beloved black walnut grove. _This is impossible. What is going on here?_ Her gaze thoughtfully fell on Baby as he followed her to the top of the hill. She stared back at the orchard, dumbfounded by the impossibility, yet acknowledging a slow dawning of outrageous gratitude and smug security creeping into her consciousness as she began to accept their assured future.

Suddenly, she sobered, her joy vanishing. She felt a chill and shivered. _Could this be magic or the devil's work_ _after all?_ Subdued, she gathered her wheelbarrow and made her way back to the cabin while her mind spun with confusion and possibilities.

Netty sat in her rocking chair, pressed up to the evening fire with Baby as he lay on his spot on the straw mat. It was time for her to make some decisions and put this issue to bed. She realized she was a simple woman, but she truly felt that all creatures, including people, were created by God. Without warning, a sleepy singsong whisper sang in her mind, a golden aura suffusing her mind's vision.

"God is Father, Father is Womb."

Netty reached over to Baby, shushing him. She needed a clear mind as she sorted out her feelings. She knew the country was young, much of it still not fully explored. There were many creatures that had probably only just been discovered and the knowledge of them not yet widely known; such as Baby.

Looking closely at Baby, she realized he didn't resemble, in whole or in part, anything she'd seen before. He could walk upright ( _and perpendicular,_ she thought wryly) and his hands were similar enough to hers that he could perform tasks; basically fairly normal, although his eyes were certainly difficult to explain. _What about my seeds and the miracle in the orchard?_ God does give miracles, but the presence of Baby seemed more than a coincidence.

As an afterthought, she rubbed her nose. This morning, upon awakening, she'd noticed what appeared to be peach fuzz on her head, filling in her bald spots. What more good fortune could happen to her? Not suspicious by nature, her natural inclination was to accept what had clearly been sent by God. Should she take Baby back to the woods? What would that prove? Maybe Baby portended a good luck charm. _Her_ good luck charm; yes, hers _._ Netty lay down next to Baby on the straw mat, scooping him into her arms. His warm little body shuddered, seemingly with relief. Netty's heart felt full and complete as she carried Baby to bed.

*

Netty and Baby's days passed with plenty of hard work. Netty ripped down a shed next to the barn, using the material to build her fruit stand on the road into town. Her crops were coming in gloriously. Her blossoms in the orchard produced huge lovely fruits, ripening splendidly in the sun. Her fruit trees evinced an unexpected growth spurt, adding the height and girth needed to support the huge luscious fruits they spawned. And her berry patches ripened for picking, a mere half handful all that was needed to fill a pie. It was an exciting time. Her berry pies, baked in her mama's bread oven were selling like crazy. She could not make them fast enough.

She constructed a special picnic basket for Baby to hide in while she spent time with customers at the fruit stand. Word of her pies and amazing fruit traveled to town. The owner of one of the popular local taverns took it upon himself to ride out in his shiny new automobile to see her. She was now his exclusive supplier of fresh fruit pies. And he wanted to be the first to see her vegetable crop come harvest time.

Netty was so busy, she hardly noticed that she'd slimmed down to a hard and strong figure. Easy to miss since she still wore the same clothes as when she'd met Baby. Unnoticed, her eyes took on a golden cast. Her hair grew long and lush, always pulled back and swept up in a ponytail, just like her mama's. Oddly, her hair seemed to be changing color as it grew in. It looked like spun gold. Hard-won pride left a pretty smile on her face. Her days got better and better.

*

Baby stretched quietly in his picnic basket. He gave up trying to remember the purpose of his mission. He casually wondered about the whereabouts of his offspring. Not that it mattered. His species was fully prepared to face life upon Emergence, as they were born with the memory of their eternal history.

His life with his new Sister passed quite pleasantly, those of his species weren't meant to be alone. He didn't understand many of her customs, but not much seemed to be required of him, so he fell into an easy routine. Shockingly, he began to accept the fact that, here on this planet, his physiology behaved differently. Luckily, it appeared he no longer ran the risk of expiration.

Occasionally, his mind turned back to the moment he'd met his new Sister. He felt a twinge of fear as he realized the life force he'd called to feed on had turned out to be a Sister; a grave mistake as it was forbidden to heal a human.

He should have waited before sending her his grateful healing. He wondered if he'd angered the Womb with his carelessness. Unfortunately, he'd not been able to stop himself when she'd touched him, and had automatically helped himself to her life force. That in itself was allowed. It was just the bad timing of the state of what Sister called _eating_ , the unexpected changes to his molecular structure brought on by his penetration into this new atmosphere, and the shocking discovery that his tail had fully evolved.

Only Elders sported fully evolved tails. Only Elders could heal other organisms. The control over his tail nonexistent and the ability to discriminate temporarily arrested had led to her healing. He knew it was sinful to heal a Sister of this planet, so he kept careful eyes on her, watching for the signs. So far, her changes didn't frighten him. If she began to develop signs of an Elder, he knew the Womb might decide to take action. He had no idea what the Womb might do to punish him. After all, it was well known throughout most universes that the Womb resented the humans because of the defiance their creation represented.

Addressing his attention to his tail again, he felt the weight of the new membrane, all doubt removed. It was fully mature and functioning. He'd tested it on the Sister's trees that had been dying, and on the tiny buttons she called seeds. Some were already dead. No help for them. But the rest were easy to correct. A gift, he did it happily for Sister; she'd seemed so distraught over the dead ones. He recognized they involved something to do with her eating. He knew how important that was.

Warily, he considered what the maturity of his tail portended. Surely he was on his way to being the first Elder of his species in a millennium, and along with that came, of course, immortality. Did the Womb realize this would happen? Did it have anything to do with his long forgotten mission? Baby stuck his head out of the picnic basket, looked around, climbed out, shuffled his way behind the fruit stand, lay down, stretched out his extremities and started to _eat_.

# Chapter 4

Wil emerged from his room for the last time. He saw that the sky was gloomy and overcast. He didn't do well on days like this. He always felt depressed when the sun went into hiding.

He'd said goodbye to his pa and ma last night. His two brothers weren't interested in his affairs, so goodbyes weren't needed. He felt he was leaving very little behind. His pa and ma had income from the large boarding house that had been in his Italian father's family for generations. Both of his older brothers still lived at home with no signs of wanting to take a bride. He knew his pa and ma would be looked after.

He sure would miss his ma. He favored her with his bright clear blue eyes. She was Irish, from a big family. He had hopes that someday he'd have a family full of healthy little boys and pretty little girls. He thought of all the time he'd wasted on his halfhearted courting of Lexa, the only daughter of an Italian family from a town neighboring Boontown, where his family lived.

More accurately, it had been a case of her courting him. She was a big unfortunate-looking girl, very domineering, with a negative habit of constantly belittling him. _Let's face it, she's a beast_. With him out of the running, he was sure she'd have little chance of another suitor. Why he'd allowed himself to get involved was beyond him. His desire to have a family sure had overruled his common sense.

Wil Capaccino was a quiet young man of twenty one years, of medium height, but well-built with strong shoulders. His expression was sober and guileless, but when he smiled and those beautiful blue eyes lit up, he could melt the hardest anvil. Of course he was completely unaware of this. He thought himself a fair carpenter and wasn't afraid to put in a hard day of work. And he was funny. He loved to make his friends laugh. He'd miss them.

He'd saved much of his wages from the last few years, only spending on presents for his ma and the occasional outing with Lexa when he couldn't avoid her. His ma's life had been hard; caring for both of Wil's grannies, the boarders, his brothers and his pa. He'd miss her. But he knew it was time. If he was to make a stab at finding a full life for himself, he had to leave the small, predominantly Italian town he grew up in.

Norris County wasn't big enough to escape the wrath of Lexa's Neanderthal brothers so he thought he'd strike out for Sussex County. A man could find plenty of work in the farms that surrounded the country towns. Hopefully, he'd find the right little valley where he could buy himself a few acres of good bottom land and settle down.

Saddling up his mare, Maggie, he checked his bedroll and camping supplies. He wondered if he should bring another blanket, for winter hovered right around the corner. Dismissing the necessity, he mounted Maggie, tipped his hat to his boyhood home and took off down the trail.

*

Events chugged along nicely for Netty as the end of the brutal winter neared. Not a single day went by for want of food to eat. Netty loved to go down into the deep root cellar she'd paid to have dug last summer. It was extra-large to handle all the labors of her canning. She felt rich and accomplished. Her shelves gleamed with glass, reflecting the beautiful deep colors produced by her fertile field and the vigorous plants that had produced amazing sizes and quantities of fruits and vegetables never before seen in this part of the country, or maybe even the world. She prayed that the seeds she'd collected for next season's planting would be just as prolific.

As the news of her successful farming spread, townspeople showed up at her door looking to trade goods for a sample of her home-cooked goodies. As a result the cabin looked much warmer and more cheerful. Bouncy chintz curtains at her windows, braided hooked rugs on the polished wooden floor. A stunning quilt lay across her bed; a gift for herself that she'd purchased from the church ladies on her last trip into town. She now owned her own horse and wagon; a huge extravagance, but a necessary one. She found it so much easier to carry her wares into town to sell rather than risk someone catching sight of Baby. It was bad enough that she took chances whenever she traded her crops and pies for repairs or construction around the cabin. Baby had developed a set of horns that were becoming more pronounced. Mature and elegant, they took on the sheen and hardness of solid gold. They sprouted up in such a growth pattern that they were growing through his crown of crystal antlers. When she stroked them, they felt warm and alive, way too tempting for many local hunters. She was afraid Baby might catch someone's fancy and, when she turned her back, he'd be gone.

Her relationship with Baby grew closer than ever. They had stayed lost in their own world for most of the winter. Baking by day and enjoying the fire, curled up on Baby's straw bed near the fireplace that roared all day into the night. There had been only one strange incident.

It was the afternoon before the Sabbath. She'd dragged a rug outside to beat it over by the woodpile, sneezing as the dust rose from the rug to tickle her nose. Baby had joined her, lying in the snow doing his normal _eating_. It seemed to be a common practice. She now took it for granted, realizing it must be necessary. Baby said he was eating and she believed him. She figured it must have something to do with the sun. Baby once sent whispers and golden rainbow colors to her mind, attempting to explain something about molecular biology, kinetic energy and the evolution of organic chemistry and electrical current conversions. The terms were so foreign, she gave up trying to understand.

Completing the beating of the rug, she'd carried it back into the cabin. As she gathered up another rug for the woodpile, she'd heard a knock at the door. Opening it, she'd stepped out to the stoop to see a trapper holding up a bloodied, wriggling snow rabbit. The rabbit's legs were horribly broken, evidence of a cruel steel trap. The trapper had offered the rabbit in exchange for some dinner and lodging in her brand new barn.

Before she could respond, she'd felt the familiar pressure accompanied by the smell of sulfur. Glancing worriedly to the woodpile behind the trapper's back, she saw Baby's glorious tail at attention and the strange frightening membrane protruding. Before the trapper could question the sudden strange smell, his crippled rabbit had jumped from his arms and quickly scampered down the road. Netty had quickly shooed the trapper away with a gift of a golden raspberry pie.

As soon as she'd seen him off down the road, she'd gathered Baby up in her overcoat and run to the cabin, quickly bolting it from the inside, her heart beating uncontrollably. She'd shaken her head at Baby. How to explain the danger and risk if Baby were not more careful displaying his more flamboyant talents?

Her mind had flashed with rainbows and whispers. "I am Elder now, Sister. Such is my imperative." _Elder? Has Baby gotten old?_

"Baby, how old _are_ you? Where are your parents, your mommy and daddy?"

"No parents, only Brothers and Sisters. I do not know old. I will be always."

Baby's cryptic comments had only befuddled her. No matter how she asked, she couldn't get clarification. So, begging Baby to be more aware, she'd dropped the subject. She needed to get to the barn to milk the cows after collecting them from the fields.

Netty's new pride and joy was her fledgling herd of Jerseys. If four could be considered a herd. She had great hopes for spring calving. She would love to add butter, cheese and milk to her deliveries.

Baby was an unexpected help at harvest time, but she could sure use some extra hands. It was clear she was spreading herself thin. Netty asked Baby to remain in the cabin while she milked the cows.

She reached for her boots and overcoat. Bending down to put on the boots, she winced, feeling her tailbone ache as if it was badly bruised. _Feels a bit_ _worse,_ she thought, having first noticed the pain about a week ago. Straightening up, she buttoned her overcoat and prepared to tramp through the snow along the winding path that the herd had created by moving back and forth from the field to the barn.

The cold felt particularly bitter. Netty thought she should have brought the herd in earlier, but she'd dawdled, trying to conserve the herd's hay, stored safely in the new barn. The more they grazed under the snow, the longer the hay would last. As the little herd spotted her, they came running. They knew her appearance meant they were going back to their warm barn to be milked.

As they ran ahead, Netty noticed a flicker of light through the trees. Was someone camping on her property? She didn't mind as long as they passed through quickly. She had to wonder if they were gypsies. Now that the farm was becoming prosperous, she was bound to become a target for petty theft. Glancing back at the herd, she saw they'd disappeared from sight, well on their way back to the barn. _Oh_ _well_ , she thought _. I better check this out._

She absently regretted not bringing her Winchester with her. Shrugging to herself, she carefully made her way through four-foot snowdrifts to the woods on the other side of the field. Climbing the split-rail fence, she listened for voices, trying to get an idea of what she was up against. She found the silence ominous.

Creeping ever so slowly, she got nearer and nearer until she realized the light was not from a fire, but a small kerosene lantern sitting on a rock. A horse snorted at her approach: very skittish, very skinny.

As Netty approached the remains of a fire, she kneeled down to feel the burnt embers: cold. And very wet. She looked up and saw a fir tree standing over the fire. _Who would be so foolish as to build a fire under a snow-laden tree?_

Standing, she silently surveyed the clearing, her eyes coming to rest on a large, dark lump in the snow. Cautiously, she approached the mound. She startled, suppressing a scream as the lump moved. It emitted a hack and a cough. It was a man; what appeared to be a solitary man. She could handle that. Gently, she poked him with her foot.

"Hello there, sir." Receiving no reply, she wondered if he was injured. Kneeling down, she took his arm and gently rolled him over. He was sick, that was for sure. She could see the fever: his cheeks flushed, his body shaking with chills, ice coating his dark mustache and beard. He appeared to be youngish, but all further examination would have to wait. If she left him out here, she doubted he and his horse would make it. _Well_ , she thought, _if I could cure little creatures as a child, why not a big one, now that I am a grown woman?_

Netty rose and slowly crept over to the mare. "Easy, girl, easy." She slowly held out her hand displaying a piece of carrot from her overcoat, a cache she kept stored in her pockets for the cows. The mare crept forward and greedily snatched the carrot. Netty released her lead rope from the branch it was hitched to.

She looked around for the mare's tack, spotting her blanket but no saddle. _How can that be?_ Locating the mare's bridle was not easy either. For some reason, it lay in the stranger's hands. _Perhaps he tried to leave the woods before he got sick_ , she thought.

She noticed the absence of a firearm. _Who is this man?_ He surely wasn't prepared to survive. Walking the mare over to the stranger, she ordered her to stay. Pulling the stranger into a sitting position, she grasped his hands and tried to pull him up to a standing position. She realized this wasn't going to be easy. She had to make him stand so she could get him over the saddle blanket. She could then lead his mare to the cow path and back to her cabin.

Fighting gamely, she finally got him upright, but couldn't get the mare to hold still long enough to lean him against her side and boost him up. Once in his delirium he muttered the name Maggie. _That must be his wife_ , she thought. _She must be very worried_. Netty was determined that Maggie would get her husband back in good condition. The thought of her being party to making another woman a widow upset her. Especially a woman as young as Maggie must be.

Continuing her struggle, Netty soon realized she needed help. The closest farm was five miles away. She didn't think the stranger would survive being exposed to the elements for the amount of time it would take her to bring back assistance. She decided to risk bringing Baby back to help her. It was the only way.

By now, Netty was sweating with exertion, her clothes soaking wet. She worried about getting sick herself, something she couldn't afford. Netty let her memory wander as she hurried down the cow path to the cabin. It was very odd, but she couldn't recall having had so much as a sniffle since arriving at the farm. She'd frequently caught all manner of illnesses in the last decade. Being big and fat certainly hadn't helped. Back then, even her heart had consistently had palpitations. Funny how she'd only just realized that the palpitations had stopped. It must be because she'd lost so much weight. She recognized that her muscles felt like rocks. _That is what constant work does to you_ , she thought proudly as she reached the barn where the cows waited to be let inside.

Bursting into the cabin, she called out to Baby.

"Sister upset?" her mind queried.

Grabbing one of her own sweaters, she quickly wrapped Baby up, explaining what she needed.

"A Brother in the woods." The whisper sounded curious. Grabbing Baby's hand, she opened the cabin door. Baby stopped, disengaged himself from the sweater and slipped his tiny golden hand back into hers, whispering in her mind.

"Come, Sister."

Mystified, Netty realized she'd never seen Baby outside in the snow for long. She accepted the fact that he didn't feel the cold in quite the same way as she did. But it was night now, and freezing. Having no time left to ponder on the latest Baby surprise, she swept them over to the barn where the herd still waited. She let them in, securing the door. They'd have to help themselves to the hay tonight. And milking would come much later than usual.

Netty and Baby hurried back to the field, searching for the stranger. He was right where Netty had left him, his mare nuzzling his face. Netty looked at Baby expectantly. Nothing happened. She then took Baby's glorious tail and held it up in the air; still nothing. _Why does Baby not fix him?_ Looking into Baby's swirling eyes for an answer, she felt pressure in her mind as the golden aura flashed and the whisper shouted.

" _It is forbidden._ "

Ouch. Netty felt shock and frustration, rubbing her forehead. _Since when_ _does a whisper shout?_ Thinking Baby must have his reasons, she decided she wouldn't question why. That question would have to wait for a more opportune time. She would just care for the stranger the old fashioned way.

This time, pulling him up on his feet was easier with Baby's help. Baby held the mare's reins as Netty soothed her and levered the stranger up across the saddle blanket. They slowly worked their way through the snow back to the cabin.

Arriving safely, Netty slipped the stranger from the saddle blanket, asking Baby to take the mare to the barn and bed her down with the herd, making sure he fed and watered them all. That was a big responsibility for Baby as Netty had never asked him to do anything on his own without her being nearby. Glancing back toward the barn, she saw little Baby shuffling and bobbing along as he led the huge mare by her reins to the barn. _What a sight_ , thought Netty, her heart swelling with laughter and affection.

Grasping the stranger under his arms, she yanked him into the cabin a few inches at a time. Pulling him over to Baby's straw mat, she laid him down carefully, noting the ice and snow were melting from his face. _A nice face_ , she thought in passing.

Pulling off his overcoat and shirt, she decided to remove everything. Quickly she took a towel and rubbed him down. His body trembled with chills. She modestly toweled around his manhood as Baby startled her, peering around her skirt.

"Wet Brother on my bed, Sister," her mind whispered.

"Yes, Baby, this man is very sick. You must heal him. We can then send him home to his wife who misses him and is probably very worried." No whisper came to her head.

She covered the stranger with a blanket and put a pot on the fire to start a healing broth. While the broth simmered, she went to the barn to check on the livestock and do the milking.

Entering the cabin after her chores, she quickly poured the fragrant broth into a bowl for the stranger. While it cooled, she took stock. He had no firearm, no money (she'd thoroughly inventoried his belongings) and few of the supplies that would normally be necessary to survive in this weather. She also discovered a huge swelling over his right ear. As she undressed him, she discovered that his left side sported a huge black and blue mark which she knew would be tender to the touch. She began to wonder if he'd been bushwhacked and robbed. If so, the fact that he lived showed he was well-favored by Lady Luck. Usually they would just shoot their victims and take everything.

Noticing the broth was now cool, she carefully tried to spoon it into the man's mouth. It was a toss-up as to what received the most: the man's mouth or his neck. But his shivering seemed to have abated. She put the bowl aside, realizing he might be in better condition than she'd at first thought.

Covering the man tightly, she went for another blanket, hearing him murmur, "Maggie," as she tucked him in.

As she watched him dozing more fitfully, she realized she must now take the time to pin down Baby. Tired of putting it off for so long, she prepared to formulate the questions. The appearance of the stranger had merely exacerbated her need to know. She glanced at Baby, who made himself comfortable on a rug in front of the fire, his mysterious tail glinting as it lay wrapped around his chubby abdomen. Sitting down next to him, she took a deep breath and asked, "Baby, where do you come from?"

"Oolaha." The whisper was casual.

"Oolaha, what is Oolaha? Is that a name? The town near your woods?"

"I do not understand, Sister," the whispered aura stated.

"I asked you where you came from. Where did your family live?"

"Oolaha," the whisper repeated.

Netty, feeling frustrated, changed the subject. Taking Baby's hands in hers, she looked directly into his amazing eyes. "Why do you not want to heal him?"

Softly, hesitantly, the whisper said, "It is forbidden."

"Who has forbidden it?"

"The Elders, the Womb."

"But you told me you were an Elder, Baby. And you healed me."

"A grave error, Sister." The aura of golden colors in her mind flashed intermittently.

"A mistake, Baby? I am a mistake?"

"No, no," the whisper protested. "Sister is my Sister! Sister will be my Sister forever. Just Baby and Sister, forever and forever and forever and forever and forever and forever," the whisper sang, golden colors so bright her mind flinched.

"Shush. There, there, Baby, it will be fine." Netty could not follow what Baby had said, but it had clearly upset him. So she gave up. Baby filled her new life with such happiness, and she filled her own life with such hard satisfying work that she decided the mystery could wait. Checking on the stranger one last time, she scooped Baby into her arms and wearily went off to bed. As her eyes shut, she felt Baby cuddle up to her tummy, as always. Closing her eyes, her last thought echoed with praise and thanks to God for gifting her with such a precious creature: her confusing, beautiful Baby.

The next morning, Netty rose quickly, instructing Baby to stay in the bedroom for today, trying to impress upon him the necessity for secrecy. She quickly lit the fireplace and started a kettle for hot water. Checking on the stranger, she saw he was still sleeping. Quietly, she tiptoed back to her bedroom to change. As she washed, she looked at herself in the mirror and indulged in a little daydreaming.

The stranger's handsomeness had woken some mighty strange feelings within her, even in his present condition. She realized he was probably married, but wondered how attractive a man might find her. _Oh, silly,_ she thought. Laughing to herself, she dipped her washcloth in the water, wringing it out. She reached down to scrub her bottom as she wondered what to make for lunch.

" _Ow, my gosh_." Trembling, she reached behind her and felt something emerging from her tailbone. It was a lump the size of an apple. Fearfully, she pressed down on it, expecting it to burst. No, it felt solid but spongy and swollen. She felt some mild pain but, with the help of a hand mirror, she didn't see any redness. Nervously, she worried about getting sick. She just couldn't afford it; so much had to be done on the farm, even in winter. Only a minor miracle had helped her manage to accomplish this much on her own. Ruefully, she realized her good health might fail her, putting an end to her good fortune.

Her mind now preoccupied, she said goodbye to Baby with a hug and returned to the other room to discover the stranger conscious and beginning to move. Turning his head toward the noise of her bedroom door shutting, he stared at her.

"Hello. Who are you? Where am I?"

Netty stood speechless as the stranger's unwavering gaze invited an explanation. His eyes shot guileless ice-blue beacons at her, creating an unexpected moment of vulnerable intimacy. Transfixed and a bit flustered, she brought a chair to the straw bed and sat down before him.

"My name is Netty Doyle. I found you in my field. You were unconscious and feverish so I brought you and your mare to my cabin. Your mare is in my barn. She is safe and well fed." Netty shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the stranger's gaze causing her to fidget. "I found very little at your camp site. Perhaps you could tell me who you are?"

The stranger struggled to sit up. Blushing beet red, he turned to her. "Where are my clothes, madam?"

Netty blanched, bounding to the other side of the fireplace to remove them from the rope line where she hung the laundry in the winter. Apologizing, she returned to the stranger and set his clothes next to him on the bed. She dropped her eyes before addressing him again.

"Who are you, sir?"

The stranger smiled, a lazy grin belying the formal tone of his voice. "Forgive me, Mrs. Doyle, my manners are not normally so poor. I must thank you for rescuing me. My name is Wil. Wil Capaccino. My family hails from Boontown in Norris County."

Netty cringed visibly at the mention of Norris County. Mr. Capaccino seemed not to recognize her name. Doyle was a common Irish name, but Robert was well known throughout the county. With visible relief, she noticed Mr. Capaccino's eyelids sinking. Within minutes, his soft snores resounded through the cabin.

The morning passed quickly with Mr. Capaccino waking periodically to take some broth before falling back asleep. Netty itched to hear more from her accidental guest. She could tell from the cut of his clothes and the calluses on his strong hands that his living was forged by hard work. The manner of his speech showed him to be educated, but of the country classes. Just like her. It somehow made her feel more comfortable. She was not a huge judge of character, but she sensed an honesty and sweetness in him.

Netty wondered how long it would take him to gain his strength. By the looks of his health, she thought he'd be up and on his way in a few days. Some of her gratifying meals were bound to help.

Netty's main concern centered around Baby. If he must stay cooped up in her bedroom for so long, he'd surely be getting hungry. He needed to get outside to eat. Thinking of Baby eating made her remember dinner. She would make her favorite bean stew with fresh butter milk biscuits. And, if they had enough flour left, she'd make an apple cobbler, just the way her mama had. After all, they didn't have company for dinner very often. Well, never, actually. Smiling, she bustled around the kitchen until the sound of Mr. Capaccino's voice drew her to his bedside.

"Eh, Mrs. Doyle, I need, uh, I mean I need to, ah, where is your outhouse?"

"Mr. Capaccino. You are much too weak to go out in the snow just yet. I can prepare something that will make do." Crossing the room, she picked up a blanket and returned to his bedside. She looked down on his face, bright red with embarrassment, and said, "Mr. Capaccino, I have already seen everything you have." Handing him a jar, she held the blanket up as he relieved himself. Taking the jar from his hand, she went to the door and dumped it off the stoop.

After preparing a hot bath for Mr. Capaccino in her pig iron tub in the corner of the cabin, she helped him rise from the straw bed. She saw he was still unsteady, but was able to creep to the tub with her help.

"Mrs. Doyle, if you please?"

"Of course, Mr. Capaccino." Modestly turning away, she found busy work in the kitchen. "Mr. Capaccino, I would be very pleased if you could join me for some tea and cornbread muffins when you are finished there."

"It would be my pleasure, madam. Something sure smells good."

Netty hurriedly set the table for the two of them. She slipped into her bedroom to give her radiant lush hair a quick adjustment, sweeping it up once more into a ponytail. Running to her bed, she lifted the covers to find Baby relaxing.

"Sister's face is red. Does Sister need my help?"

"No, Baby, everything is fine. I will be talking to our guest until bedtime. Will you please stay here? This is where you will be safe." Netty then remembered. "Baby, do you need to eat? I can try to figure a way to sneak you out the door?"

"No, Sister, tomorrow will be fine." And with that, Netty skipped out to the kitchen.

She came upon Mr. Capaccino sitting patiently at the kitchen table, smiling expectantly at her. Her stomach did a flip flop as she quickly joined him. He'd shaved his beard and regained some healthy color in his cheeks, making him look like an eager young boy. But, as Netty well knew, he was clearly a man. Netty slowly poured the tea and passed the plate of muffins.

"Mr. Capaccino, can you now please tell me what happened to you? What were you doing on my land?"

"Mrs. Doyle, can you find it in your heart to call me Wil? I fear you know me much better than I intended."

"Of course, Mr., ah, Wil, and you must call me Netty," she said shyly, unable to meet his eyes.

"Well, Netty, I was just passing through. Thought I would take a shortcut to town. My mare and I ran out of provisions. I do believe we became a tad lost. Seeing a fire through the woods, I thought to hail my fellow travelers." He shook his head ruefully. "Next time, I sure plan to exercise more caution. The ambush didn't take long. As I rode into the clearing, I got yanked off my horse so fast I jerked the reins right out of her mouth. They sat me on the ground with a rifle on me as they divvied up my money and gear. I think the plan was to take my horse and shoot me, but they were frightened off by a voice in the nearby field. I assume that was you, Netty. One of the bandits clubbed me in the face as he ran. Luckily, they left my horse and a lantern. The fire was of no use. Having placed it under a snow-covered tree, the heat loosened the snow and quickly smothered the flame. We survived the night praying for your voice again, hoping you would find us. I do not know how long I was out, but my wish came true. You saved us, Netty."

"Oh, Wil, how terrible." Placing her hands over his, she sighed, "And your poor wife, Maggie, she must be beside herself."

"Maggie? You know about Maggie?" Wil burst out laughing. He was laughing so hard, Netty jerked her hand back in surprise.

"No, no, Netty." Still laughing, Wil announced, "I am so sorry, I am not married to Maggie. She is my horse. She _is_ my girl, though."

With unexpected relief, Netty refilled their cups and got up to stir the evening stew. Attempting to hide her embarrassment, she changed the subject. "Wil, would you care to check on Maggie after dinner tonight? I have to go to the barn to milk the cows anyway." Netty had neglected to turn them out to pasture that morning, being preoccupied with her guest.

"I gratefully accept your offer, Netty. And, if you do not mind, I think I need to lie down now." As Wil rose, Netty rushed to help him. Waving her off, he made his way carefully to the bed on his own. Easing himself down, Netty heard him take a deep breath.

"I must be really under the weather. I had the dangest dreams last night. I dreamed I saw a golden deer, or was it a cat? What a fantastic creature. Its eyes contained rainbows, Netty. Is that not a crazy dream?"

"That is what happens when you are sick with delirious tremors." Netty held her breath. Wil didn't question her explanation. _He will only be here for another day or so, then be on his way,_ Netty told herself. Her secret would be safe.

Later, over a long hearty dinner, Wil and Netty got to know each other. Netty explained how she'd inherited the family farm, omitting the gruesome details, while Wil shared his dreams for his future. After dinner, Netty allowed Wil to clear the table. He seemed to be rapidly gaining strength. The dishes were soon stacked and put away.

"Wil, are you ready for a trip to the barn?"

"Yes, madam. If you do not mind, I thought I would look around and see if I could repay your fine hospitality with some work."

"There is no shortage of work to be done on this farm, Wil." Netty laughed, unashamed. Slipping into their overcoats, they headed to the barn.

"Sometimes I think it is time to hire some help. But I do not think I can afford to do that unless I expand my baking capacity to pay for it. There is only so much you can do with one oven." Helping each other through the snow, they laughed together as they slipped in their heavy boots. Stopping in the doorway of the barn, Wil raised their lantern. He stared into Netty's eyes.

"Gosh, you sure are beautiful. The color of your eyes cannot be real. They look like spun gold. How can that be?"

"It sounds like you are still delirious, Mr. Capaccino." Laughing, Netty put him off. She wasn't used to compliments and wondered if Wil was being forward. As wonderful as it felt to be in his company, she'd little experience with men. (Her husband certainly didn't count.) Anyway, she knew she couldn't have Wil around for long. It would only invite disaster for Baby.

Showing Wil around the barn, he pointed out many small improvements that could be made. He was thrilled to see Maggie. She didn't hesitate to help herself to the sweet hay belonging to the Jerseys. They were completely unconcerned by her presence. After watering and milking the livestock, Wil helped Netty bring in the milk, depositing a large portion in her butter churn.

As Netty churned away, she learned more about him, his family, the unfortunate Lexa, and his boyhood town. She felt a bond with his story. His background was much like hers: a poor, honest, working class family, a closeness to his mother. He was smarter than her, she could see that. She felt a need in him, a searching or striving for a place he could be happy. A place he could put his feet up; his sanctuary. His ideas for increasing productivity and simplifying her workload impressed her with their simplicity and creativity. The idea tempted her, all right.

Saying goodnight to each other, Netty got ready for bed. As she undressed, she looked critically at herself. She was quite striking with her golden eyes and long gold and brown hair. The changing of her eyes had happened so gradually, she'd just accepted it without much question. Her hands slipped down to her bottom where the growth was becoming elongated and supple. It was easy to hide under her skirts for now. Yes, for now. Would it continue to grow? She no longer feared the growth would kill her. But she did fear the change it might bring to her body. And of course, how would she expose it to anyone? She refused to let anyone observe the freak she might become. That was unthinkable.

Before she snuffed out her candle, she played with Baby on the bed. She liked to tickle his tummy. He didn't have the capability to laugh, but he loved to stroke her own face with his elongated leathery fingers. He loved tangling his golden crown of antlers in her hair. When they became too tangled, she would pick him up by his feet and shake him loose. He couldn't get enough of it. Quietly, she soothed him down for sleep, murmuring love sounds to him as she drew the warm quilt over them, blowing out the lantern.

*

The next morning was sunny and warmer. Clearly, the winter was coming to an end. Her orchard would soon be sprouting leaves. Her tilling and planting would start all over. Bread must bake, pies to make, butter to churn, and winter repair money to earn.

Her little herd still needed her attention, immediately.

Wil hovered over the morning fire as she entered the kitchen.

"You look good this morning, Wil. I mean, you look recovered." Her face flamed with self-consciousness.

"I feel good. How 'bout I help you turn out the herd? I can check the campsite in the woods and see if anything was left behind." Wil sounded eager and she needed to start getting some work accomplished.

"All right, we can bring lunch with us. I need to check my fence posts to assess what the snow brought down."

"Netty, why don't we bring a few tools with us? I can fix any damage we find."

"Oh, Wil, I would be so grateful. Repairing the fences takes so long. I usually do not find the time until the fields have been planted. Now I shall not have to worry about the cows wandering." Netty was secretly relieved that Baby would also have plenty of time to get outside to do his _eating._

Netty packed a big lunch for them in a basket, adding large jars of fresh milk. Slipping in an extra generous slice of her rhubarb pie, she was reminded she must get back to her baking. A large order awaited and needed to be completed within a few days if she wanted to get it to town on time. She really didn't have any more time to fritter away as she got to know her houseguest, pleasant though it was.

Loading up the tools from the barn, Wil tied their burden across Maggie's saddle blanket. _What a relief not to be forced to drag everything to the field_. There'd be plenty to do once they arrived. Much would be accomplished if they were fresh, and of course, having Wil's strong shoulders would make the job go twice as fast. They set off for the pasture, following the well-worn cow path.

Netty surveyed the pasture as the cows filtered in. She noticed the gate needed some reinforcing, its list was now quite pronounced. Scanning down the field, she counted the downed trees. Naturally, many of them had landed on her fence, damaging the rails.

"Do not worry, Netty, I can have some of those saplings trimmed out and that mess cleaned up in no time. I think we will be up here working for most of the day, though."

They set to work. What would have taken Netty days of struggle, took no time at all with Wil's help. She admired his skill. Everything he touched turned out perfectly. It sure was good to have a professional on the job.

The day wore on, with Netty and Wil only stopping for a very late lunch. While Wil gulped down her rhubarb pie, he commented on an idea he wanted her to consider. His plan should increase her oven space, if she allowed him to knock a hole in the kitchen wall to enlarge the room. He would also require most of the fieldstone from the pile she was accumulating for her boundary markers. It would increase her baking output fourfold, and she'd have much more room in the kitchen for her supplies. Netty loved the sound of his plan, but the ground-breaking would have to wait until the weather warmed up. In the meantime, Wil could help her get the fields ready for planting, maybe clear another field for a new crop. Netty's thoughts swam with the possibilities. Wil sounded very ambitious. _But Baby, what about Baby?_

"I do not know, Wil." Netty sounded reluctant. "I do not think I have the room to take on a fulltime live-in hand."

"Netty, do not worry, I can bunk in with Maggie and the cows. The worst of the cold will soon be over." He sounded so hopeful.

"Let me think about it, Wil."

"Okay, Netty." Standing, Wil brushed off the crumbs from his meal. "I think I will try to find the bandits' campsite. Hopefully, some of my things might still be around." Wil tramped off through the snow, leaving Netty alone with the cows.

*

Wil puzzled over the abrupt change in Netty's attitude. He would sure love to work here. He found Netty sweet and earnest. Her cooking was fantastic and she was darn easy to look at. He sensed a reluctance to talk about her marriage. She kept mum about her husband _. Where is he?_ She was perfectly clear about the farm being hers, but vague about her actual marriage status. And no children. He thought that was odd since she mentioned she'd been married for years. Well, he best mind his own business and hope she decided to take him on as a hand. A woman like her shouldn't be alone this far from town, anyway.

Hoping for the best, he arrived at the bandits' campsite. Not much remained except the cold ashes of their campfire. Scanning the area, he noticed they had dropped his saddle. What a relief to recover it, perfectly molded to Maggie's broad back. He'd have had a hard time with her if he'd lost it. Bareback gets mighty uncomfortable with stowed gear and riding over long distances. Since they'd robbed him of all his savings, he had to find work to replace everything.

Meeting Netty had been fortunate in more than one way. That is, if he could convince her to take him on. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be the kind of lady that could be talked into things. She had a spine. He sure admired all the hard work she'd expended in putting the farm back in order; a monumental task. _She sure_ _is some woman_.

Wil returned to the cow pasture, observing Netty rounding up the Jerseys. He loaded the tools onto Maggie's back then, running to the gate, he held it open as Netty shooed the herd through.

Walking back down the worn cow path, they noticed the temperature drop remarkably. The snow that had seemed soft and slushy this morning, now crunched and slipped under their feet. Their breath made gusty little clouds in front of them as they hurried to the barn. The Jerseys, sensing the barn was close, broke into a run, desiring as much as Netty and Wil to get out of the freezing cold.

As Netty and Wil approached the barn with Maggie, they saw the Jerseys milling and shoving each other out of the way to be the first at the door, their hooves clacking on a thin layer of ice formed from snowmelt dripping off the roof. Reaching past Netty to open the barn door, Wil took his eyes off Maggie as he held her reins. Maggie snickered as she was bumped by one of the cows, her hooves flailing on the ice. As Wil opened the barn door, down she went, screaming as she fell, the thud bone-shattering. Wil gasped, his eyes unbelieving as he stared at the devastating break. He dropped down to the ground, cradling Maggie's head as tears dropped from his anguished eyes to land on her steaming muzzle. Her eyes flared, wild with pain as Wil tried to calm her. He knew there was only one solution.

"Netty," he screamed between sobs. " _Get me your rifle._ " Netty moved as if to run, but stayed glued to her spot. " _Netty,_ " Wil screamed again. Rising to run for the rifle himself, he turned to the stoop and felt shock course through him as he saw the strange creature from his dreams in all its golden glory. The creature's tail rose in the air and hovered. From the end of the tail emerged a fleshy bulbous hunk of something. As it wavered in the air, Wil was assailed with the smell of sulfur and the feeling of pressure on his chest.

" _What the heck?_ " Wil screamed. He grabbed Netty and threw her to the ground, covering her with his body.

*

"Wil, get off me." Netty squirmed underneath him. Her heart beat frenetically at her breast with the shock of seeing Baby on the stoop. She'd expressly told him to be back inside well before nightfall.

"Sister, Wil and Maggie needed my help," the aura in her mind whispered, its susurrations swirling. "It is my mandate. I must heal."

Netty scrambled out from underneath Wil, running to the stoop as he rose to his feet to stare in shock at Maggie. _She was on her feet_. And, as they watched in disbelief, she calmly walked into the barn to join the Jerseys.

Quickly turning back to the stoop, Netty fearfully watched Wil crouch down in a defensive position, Baby tucked protectively in her arms. Before he could say a word, she rose and scampered into the cabin, slamming the door.

*

Wil stood dumbfounded. _What just happened?_ He went to the barn to fill the water trough and examine Maggie. As he brushed her coat, he inspected her leg. _Should I question my eyes? Did I make a mistake?_ No, that was crazy. He'd seen her pain with his own eyes. And he'd heard her screams. Looking into her placid eyes, it was as if nothing had happened. Left with no choice, he knew he must demand an explanation from Netty. He felt pretty sure the blame rested with that unnatural creature on her stoop. The same creature imagined in his dreams. Obviously, he must have caught a glimpse of it before while in his feverish state.

Wil let himself into the cabin, not seeing Netty. Softly, he knocked at her bedroom door. No answer.

"Netty," he called softly. "Please let me in. I think we had better talk about this." Slowly, the door cracked open and Netty swept into the room. Her eyes darted around, seeing nothing. She paced frantically around the kitchen until Wil grabbed her by the arms and sat her down. He could feel her trembling though her shawl.

"Netty, what happened? How can this be? Maggie's leg is healed. It looks like it was never broken. Netty, please talk to me."

"I am sorry, Wil." Netty chewed frantically on her lip. "I do not know what to say."

"What do you mean, you do not know what to say?" he shouted. "Why don't you start with that creature? What is it? Can it hurt you? Where did you get it?"

Netty remained silent as Wil stood over her, spouting questions. She could sense his effort to keep his anger in check, but for how long? She knew an explanation about Baby must be proffered, but she didn't know where or how to start. _How will he understand? Will he keep my secret?_

As Netty's thoughts whirled, Wil got down on his knees in front of her, taking her in his arms. "Netty, it is all right. We will work this out. Stop trembling now. We can figure this out together."

Netty, surprised by his tenderness, started to cry. She might be older than Wil, but she felt a kind of strength in him that she'd only felt before from her real papa, Mr. Woods. Between sobs, she told Wil the long story of her marriage betrayal, the isolation and rapes, the stolen gold coin, the discovery of her inheritance and of course, Baby. When she finished, she dried her tears, exhausted.

Wil rose, putting the kettle on for tea. Placing a cup in front of her, he sat down with a cup for himself, letting it cool. Netty didn't look up for fear of seeing condemnation in his eyes. No one said a word.

From the bedroom came a sound. They both looked to the bedroom door as it slowly opened. Out came Baby, shuffling and wobbling across the rug until he stood in front of Netty. He clambered up her skirt, taking his place on her lap. She softly stroked his golden fur as Wil stared.

"Is this creature your pet, Netty?" Wil's voice remained low, his tone soft and respectful, yet laced with incredulity. He suddenly felt a pressure in his head and saw pinpricks of rainbow lights, an aura in the back of his head making him dizzy.

"I am Brother," came a soft whisper. Wil looked directly at Baby in shock. Netty had left out this piece of information, it was just too unbelievable. "I am Elder now. Sister will be Elder soon," the whisper continued.

"He thinks you are his sister? That is him talking to me, is it not? Can you hear him talking to me?"

Netty cast her eyes down to Baby. "He talks to me when he wants. I do not hear what he says to you unless he wants me to. But Wil, what are you going to do?"

"Do about what, Netty? Oh, you mean Baby? Well, you clearly love him, he appears to be harmless, I _think_ , that is. Oh, gosh, Netty, I do not know, there is nothing I can do anyway. What could I do? He saved Maggie. He has done good things for you. I would never do anything that would hurt you."

Jumping to her feet with Baby in her arms, she ran to Wil. She crushed him in an embrace, forcing Wil to circle his arms around them both. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Wil. You can stay now! I was so worried about you accidentally discovering Baby and not understanding, that I thought I must send you away, even though my heart rebelled. Please, you will stay now, won't you? I know you will be a huge asset to the farm."

"Just an asset to the farm, Netty?" Wil's eyes and mouth smiled at her, a question hanging in the air, unanswered. Netty lowered her eyes to give him her answer.

# Chapter 5

Baby lay curled on the rug in front of the fireplace. He watched as Sister and Brother ate dinner together. He could feel emotion in the air. What a strange day. Sister's agitation had become pronounced during the last few days. As soon as he'd discovered the source, Brother, he'd decided to reveal himself. Baby didn't care for disrupted harmony. He sensed goodness in Brother, just as he had in Sister. He couldn't afford to have disharmony around Sister. She was changing. She would soon be an Elder, with all the responsibility that entailed. She needed his guidance, for it would change her life for good. Baby's contentment with Sister gave him a purpose. His mission had faded with his lost memory. He no longer expected the expiration that should have accompanied the Emergence of his offspring. Clearly, immortality was with him.

Netty, Baby and Wil adjusted nicely to each other's company. Wil slept out on the straw bed in the kitchen. He and Netty discussed the possibility of adding a small addition to the cabin as they built the new pie oven. It seemed a fine idea.

Wil rigged Maggie and the horse that pulled Netty's vegetable wagon to a plough to make their work easier. The plough turned over existing vegetation leaving a furrow to plant in. Better yet, it created two furrows at a time. Netty trailed behind to plop in the new seed and Baby smoothed over the new soil. They were very efficient. The orchard needed little work, except for removing the old canes from her raspberry and blackberry bushes. Wil had taken over responsibility for the Jerseys and did all the milking, which freed Netty up to keep ahead of her baking orders. In his spare time, Wil found enough needed repairs to keep him busy for the next few years.

Wil and Netty would sip tea and laugh, telling each other stories from their childhood well into the night after Netty's delicious dinners. Baby watched carefully from his spot on the rug. When they realized it was time for bed, Netty would call Baby to her, bend down to pick him up and give Wil a chaste kiss goodnight.

Wil wondered about Netty's reluctance to take the relationship any further. He compassionately chalked it up to her turbulent time with her husband. He was a patient man. They had their whole lives ahead of them. And he was nothing if not a gentleman. After all, he'd been raised by a God-fearing Catholic Irish mama who expected nothing less of him.

Netty and Baby lay down on the bed. Netty had yet to undress. She dreaded being reminded of her changes. She was clearly growing a tail, which looked just like Baby's. _Does that mean I can cure things as Baby can?_ She didn't know how to even try. _Did Baby know I would change like this?_ She'd tried to ask him, but he remained silent. Baby didn't talk much.

She wondered how this would affect her relationship with Wil. She was nuts about him and thought he felt the same. But she feared his revulsion. The changes to her body made her a freak. It might be too much for him. She didn't want to lose the part of him she did have. And what to do about the issue of Robert? She wondered why he'd not shown himself. She'd made a few discreet inquires and discovered that a wife's inheritance belonged to the husband too. Her timidity prevented her from inquiring about the process of divorce. She knew for sure that would bring Robert down on her to claim the farm. He'd admitted to murdering her mother and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to do the same to her. She thought it would be best if she left things as they were.

*

The spring moved into summer, then winter, and moved into spring again. They became the destination of choice for most of the town. Netty outgrew the new pie oven and was making plans with Wil for a huge new project; a bakery. It would be situated behind her old animal hospital, allowing them plenty of privacy at the cabin. And they would need it, because they'd made the monumental decision to hire some fulltime help for the new bakery.

Wil wanted to hire some field hands for his plan to expand their crops. Once these projects were completed, they both prayed their success might extend far enough to cover the extravagance of a truck. Other farmers had found the money to make the envied purchase, allowing their hard work to lighten with the new convenience. God knew what a boon a truck would be for the farm business.

Wil and Netty's relationship, surprisingly, didn't progress as he hoped. He tried not to let disillusion pull him down, but her behavior didn't seem normal to him. He knew her feelings for him ran deep. He often caught her studying him when she thought him unaware and would see such a look of longing. When she caught him looking at her, she'd blush and smile, making him feel hopeful.

They knew one another very well now. Sometimes, he'd start to say something and she would nod, finishing his sentence. They laughed together constantly, mostly over his silly grade school jokes. Her laughter, the best reward for a hard day of work. Although, of late, he sometimes noticed her voice contained a note of strain.

He loved his work on the farm. Seeing their progress and success delighted them both, making their lives very fulfilling. On the other hand, he knew Netty quietly fretted about her husband's possible claim on the farm. She haltingly explained the relationship between her mama and Mr. Woods. Wil took the news in stride. Many women found themselves in similar straits, marrying the next man that would have them, so as to give the child a name. Bastard children carried a stigma that was hard to shake. Netty was very lucky Mr. Woods had found a way to stay in her life. They might not know the reasons behind her mama's decision, but Mr. Woods had obviously loved her and provided for her. It was quite unfortunate that he'd inadvertently chosen a disreputable lawyer to represent him. Wil thought Netty might have a good case for fraud on her hands. When they had time, they planned to hire a lawyer in town to look into it for them.

Baby was another story. His relationship with Baby mirrored that of a big brother. Baby went nuts over Maggie. Wil would saddle up Maggie early in the morning when he was turning out the Jerseys, and Baby would be right on his heels when he left the cabin. He had to struggle to keep up with Wil, his funny little shuffle and wobble a handicap. He sure was an eager little guy, though. Wil would lift him up on the saddle with him and off they'd go with the Jerseys, Baby clinging to the saddle horn with Wil's arm looped across his fat little tummy. Wil gave up counting how many times he'd rolled over in the night to discover Baby curled up under the covers with him.

Baby made no further effort to talk to him, though. Netty said it was normal; Baby didn't talk much.

Wil decided to make a move today. They never took any time off to go into town unless it was to bring produce, make pie deliveries or pick up supplies. Wil heard that one of the churches planned to host a Saturday supper with square dancing after dinner. There were bound to be some locals who made sure the men had a good supply of moonshine behind the church. Wil planned on inviting Netty to the supper this morning, and he launched into his proposal as Netty poured Wil's breakfast tea.

"Come on, Netty, it will be fun. We could sure use a break before spring planting starts."

Caught off guard by Wil's invitation, Netty's heart gave a trill of excitement. The thought of socializing had never occurred to her. Their affairs on the farm overwhelmed them so, keeping them busy, and she preferred to stick close to Baby, afraid to leave him alone. You could never tell when a stranger might stop by looking for some pies or a handout. She worried what might happen if they found no one home and decided to poke around.

"I do not know, Wil, can we really afford to take the time? I wanted to start moving the fieldstone up from the fields. We will soon be starting the foundation for the bakery."

"Netty, do not worry about that. Baby and I will start working on that on Sunday morning. I thought we would bring a load up after we turn out the Jerseys. We can get it done and still be finished in time for lunch."

"I am sure Baby's help will be overwhelming, but I do not know how I can afford the time." Looking at Wil's crestfallen face, Netty paused. Wil never complained about anything. She knew her reluctance to respond to his overtures portended an eventual rift between them. Her tail, fully mature, lay wrapped around her torso, hidden securely under her skirt. She hoped to delay a painful confrontation as long as possible. The thought of losing Wil because of her fear chilled her. Maybe if she said yes to the supper, Wil would be mollified for a while. Was it possible they might enjoy themselves?

"Well, maybe some time off would be good for us. I think Baby can hold down the fort until we get back." She smiled suddenly as Wil jumped up, grabbing her in a bear hug.

"I know that you will be the prettiest girl there."

As the day wore on, Netty's reservations returned, making her jumpy. Additional worries about the dance played on her mind. The fact that she'd never attended a dance before was the least of them.

Netty's unspoken insecurity revolved around the age difference between the two of them. She knew the young ladies of the town would use the dance as an opportunity to flirt and size up the single gentlemen. The supper presented the perfect atmosphere to look for strong, good-looking prospects, receptive to their mysterious signals, with the hope of spurring a courtship. Netty didn't want Wil to develop a wandering eye because of her unwillingness to explore a more intimate relationship. He didn't seem like the type, but she didn't know much about that side of him. She did know he'd always planned to marry and raise as many children as possible. That thought alone frightened her.

Having completed all of the day's chores, Netty washed up in her bedroom, Wil in the kitchen. As she slipped on a petticoat she sighed, never previously having had anywhere to go which merited wearing it. She noticed a large slit down the back of it, down to her tail. The slit was to facilitate ease in getting in and out of the voluminous garment. A drawstring allowed her to cinch it at her waist, holding the petticoat up. She would have to hold her tail tightly around her torso to prevent it from slipping through the slit and unraveling down her legs.

Slipping her best dress over her head, she looked at herself in her mirror. She looked just like she always did, except for the nervous flush. But she wanted to look special in some way for Wil, to mark the occasion. Feeling she needed an edge to compete with the youth of the other single ladies, she removed her ponytail, letting her lush, long hair fall down her shoulders. She noticed her hair had developed a golden sheen. _When did that happen?_ Standing back, she discovered the appearance of a halo surrounding her. Well, she really didn't want to draw others' attention to herself, but it was the only edge she had.

Netty sat on her bed to say goodbye to Baby. Last night, they'd explained to him about their trip into town. If anyone knocked on the door, Baby was to crawl under the bed. They showed Baby how to lock the door from the inside and felt confident that the little guy would be safe. The trickle of town folk who had come out to her farm had fallen off since she'd started to bring her produce into town more regularly. With a feeling of confidence and anticipation, Netty slipped out of the bedroom to join Wil.

*

Wil finished dressing. His boots gleamed, his shirt was fully starched and his trousers pressed. They didn't do a thing to disguise his strong shoulders or lean, fit build. Turning, he watched Netty come from the bedroom. His heart ached with longing as she took his breath away. With her hair swinging down her back, she looked stunning. Her face gleamed: flushed and expectant. There seemed to be a golden glow radiating from her, leaving him speechless.

"Netty, you look beautiful," he whispered, going to her side. Netty blushed, looking down at her feet. Wil offered his arm and together they walked out to the barn to collect the wagon and start their ride into town.

The almost full moon lit their bumpy drive. Wil chattered excitedly all the way, Netty smiled and nodded but said little. When they arrived at the church, they hitched the wagon and loosened the rigging on the horse, who acted skittishly around the automobiles parked nearby. Entering the church hall, they made their way to a table where a popular tavern owner sat with his family. Quickly making space for Wil and Netty, they found themselves heartily welcomed.

Wil rose from the table to deliver their contribution, Netty's fabulous pies. Returning, he noticed various men glancing at Netty then nodding in his direction.

Most in town knew of Netty's husband, as some of his sisters still ruled the social scene. But these county folks were farmers and shopkeepers with their families. He felt assured he wouldn't have any trouble, being from out of town. The thing everyone in these parts respected most was hard work. Everyone greatly admired Netty's labor, even envied her for all she'd accomplished. Unfortunately, Wil had not counted on the speculation about his relationship with her. Some might consider it improper if they knew he slept in the house, instead of the barn. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Netty grief after he'd pressured her to come to the dance. He certainly didn't want to create a scandal that would hurt their business. Noticing more glances and whispers, he began to think of the supper and dance as a mistake.

Hurrying back to the table with two plates of food, he sat across the table from Netty and joined the boisterous conversation. As the evening wore on, the laughter at the table grew louder. Wil noticed the men casually slipping out the back door and returning with mugs brimming with what he could only guess was spirits. From time to time, the shopkeepers who often purchased Netty's wares stopped by with their wives to pay respect to her. Wil noticed the wives exhibited a stiffness in their greetings. Maybe it was his imagination. Perhaps they were just jealous of Netty's prettiness. She sure stood out in this crowd.

*

Netty herself flushed with pleasure, having a great time. She laughed more than she could remember ever having done before. Some of the business owners she'd previously targeted unsuccessfully, due to their loyalty to their current suppliers, asked her to stop by next week. She responded, happily introducing them to Wil and setting up a date and time. Her dinner was delicious, but, glancing at Wil, she saw he'd barely touched his plate. Puzzled, she smilingly reached for his hand across the table. She got a big, sweet smile in return. At a sideways glance from their host, he hurriedly withdrew his arm. _What is going on?_ she wondered. _Has someone said something about me to Wil?_

Netty's attention shifted over to the men clearing space for the dance floor. The fiddle players entered and were in the corner tuning up. Oh, such fun. It would be the first time they would hold each other and dance. Netty observed young ladies tossing flirtatious glances at the men gathered near the back door.

She wanted to go to the outhouse before the dancing started. She cursed herself for not considering her needs carefully enough when she'd agreed to come. She would need a fair amount of time to safely secure her tail before she could return to the hall. Motioning to Wil, she asked him to accompany her to the door. Happy to be needed, he assisted Netty through the crush of laughing townspeople. Agreeing that he'd wait with the men enjoying their spirits, Netty made her way to the outhouse.

*

Waiting for Netty, Wil noticed the other men grinning at him. He felt uneasy, but chose to ignore it. He thought it best that, when Netty returned, they take their leave.

"So buddy, you getting any of that?" asked one grinning fool, clearly deep in his cups. The other men laughed as Wil turned his eyes on them. "She sure is a looker and those older ones really know what they're doing. We hear you might be doing some hiring out your way. That include any benefits?" The crowd thought the comment hilarious as they broke up laughing, holding their sides, trying unsuccessfully not to spill their precious spirits.

Wil balled his fists, ready for a fight, when he heard a scream down the path to the outhouse. Running as fast as he could, he saw Netty on the ground with some drunk assaulting her. He also noticed, unbelievably, that Baby had followed them to the dance, as he could clearly see his tail in the melee. Yanking the drunk off Netty, he punched him in the face, knocking him out cold. Wil scooped a sobbing Netty into his arms, looking around wildly for Baby. He needed to get Netty to the wagon. He didn't want any of the other drunks coming to investigate. He would then come back for Baby. He knew the urgency of secrecy. No one could discover their little creature. God knew what hell could break out.

Wil hurriedly deposited Netty in the wagon. Her face streaked with tears, she cried hysterically.

"Shush, Netty, I am here. Nobody will hurt you now." Wil held her in his arms, kissing and stroking her beautiful hair. As he slowly rocked her, she calmed down, her sobbing abating. "Netty, I have to go back to find Baby. He is out back. He must have followed us from the farm." Grabbing a blanket from the back of the wagon, he climbed down to search for Baby. Netty started screaming, "No, Wil, you cannot leave me!"

_Gosh, she is terrified,_ Wil thought. __ "Netty, Baby is back there unprotected. I have to find him." Suddenly, he felt pressure in his head accompanied by flashes of a golden aura.

The whisper came softly, "Brother, you can go. I am fine. Come home with Sister."

Overcome by the shock of Baby talking to him, he quickly got back into the wagon and hurried home. He kept his eye on Netty, who huddled on the floor of the wagon, hiccupping quietly between her sobs. Pulling up to the barn, he hurriedly removed the harness from the horse and bedded her down. He hoped that would give Netty some extra time to compose herself, for she still seemed agitated. Returning to the wagon, he called to Netty.

When she didn't answer, he scooped her up and carried her to the stoop, expecting to find the door unlocked. But he could not get in. Rattling the door, he could feel the latch was still in place.

"How the devil are we going to get in now?" he muttered. "Baby must have climbed out of a window to follow us. Well, I guess I can just as easily go through a window to get in."

Leaning Netty against the wall, he turned to step off the stoop. He heard the rattle of the latch. Turning back to the door, he saw it open. And there stood Baby in all his golden glory.

Wil stood dumfounded. _How could Baby have gotten back before we did?_ He'd have had to walk. And his goofy little wobble would take him days. _Wait a minute!_ He could never have followed them to the church without help to begin with. He wouldn't have made it there on time.

Wil led Netty into the cabin, placing her on his bed near the fireplace. He quickly put on the tea kettle, taking comfort in its whistle as it came to a boil. Setting out two cups, he carried them over to Netty to cool. He saw Baby sitting next to her, softly stroking her tearstained face with his long fingers. Netty held tightly to Baby and buried her face in his fur.

"Netty, are we going to talk about this?"

"What is there to say, Wil?" Her voice sounded shaky. "You rescued me from a drunk and now we are home safe."

"No, Netty, you know that is not what I mean. I am sorry about the drunk. I guess we have been a little insulated here on the farm and forgot how judgmental other people can be about propriety."

"Wil, I am sorry if my unusual marital status caused you some embarrassment."

Glancing at Netty, he felt the stiffness in her tone. "Netty, you know that is not what I mean! How could I see Baby with you at the church and yet he arrived back here before we did?"

Netty sat silently looking down at her lap. Wil suddenly sat on the bed grabbing her shoulders. " _Look at me, Netty_. Look me in the eye. Now answer me. Can Baby fly?" He watched as she raised her head and looked into his eyes. Silent tears traveled slowly down her face.

"I love you, Wil, do you know that?" She said it so slowly, so sadly, that it gave Wil a chilling premonition. A now familiar pressure and golden aura whispered to him.

"Brother, I cannot fly. Sister cannot fly."

"I know Netty cannot fly, Baby, why would you mention that?" Wil asked the question, confused and distracted. No one spoke.

" _God damn it, Netty_ , I need some answers here. What is going on? Are you hiding something from me? Why? You know I love you. Do you not trust me? I am going out of my mind trying to figure you out, but I do not think I can take much more." Wil dropped his hands and paced the floor. Baby had moved to the bedroom when Wil had started to get heated.

Slowly, Netty rose from Wil's bed. Her eyes were closed.

"Wil, could you come here, please? I would like one kiss right now, please." Wil stepped hesitantly over to Netty. He held her close and kissed her slowly. Netty felt all of his love and strength in that kiss. Her quiet bittersweet tears continued to fall.

"Netty, baby, please tell me what is happening."

Netty stepped back. She looked silently at Wil's beautiful, clear, dear face, trying to memorize every feature, dreading the outcome of the next critical moments. She closed her own eyes again and slowly unbuttoned her top. Slipping off her skirt, she took a painful breath. With a sob of anguish, she slipped off her petticoat. Standing in front of Wil with her head bowed in shame, her tail moved, circling around her waist protectively, reflecting its brilliance off the flame of the fire.

" _What the heck?_ Netty, no." He backed up slowly, not taking his eyes off the shocking appendage. Netty sank to the bed, covering her nakedness with Wil's blanket. So much became clear to Wil.

"It was never about me was it, Netty?"

Netty shook her head, her voice a barely discernible croak. "No, Wil, I have always loved you."

"Netty, are you human?" Wil asked, knowing the pain that pierced Netty's heart with the question.

"I do not know what is happening to me, Wil. The changes started after I found Baby. I am scared. I do not know what it means," she admitted.

"What are we going to do?" Wil asked, sinking into a chair and dropping his face to his hands. He looked down at Netty. He could see the pain in her eyes as she turned her back, unable to face him any longer. Silence filled the room. Quietly, Wil confronted her.

"I still love you, Netty. And I love Baby. I just do not know if I can handle this. I need time to think. I am exhausted. I will sleep in the barn tonight." Grabbing his winter overcoat from a hook and an extra blanket kept at the foot of the bed, he walked out.

*

Netty knew crying herself to sleep would be fruitless. In the early hours of the morning she felt Baby, who had crept to her bed in the night, open the cabin door and slip out.

She woke late in the morning, the chill of the cabin a telltale sign that the fire had faded sometime in the night, just like her high hopes for herself and Wil. She felt empty, swollen and numb as she went to her bedroom to change into work skirt and apron. Baby was still missing. _He probably went with Wil to turn out the Jerseys_. She wondered where they were now. Had they gone to collect fieldstone as originally planned? Might Wil be planning to leave? She didn't think she could survive that. He was her love, her companion, her best friend. Could she go on living without him? Would she want to?

She nervously considered what she should do. She really wanted to climb back to bed, but the farm couldn't wait. Going out to the barn, she saw the wagon was missing. It appeared they'd turned out the Jerseys, then continued on with their chores. Lunchtime came and left. Why were they not back? Maybe Wil still wanted to be alone to think. Netty realized he must be starved. The night before, he'd hardly touched his dinner. She decided she should bring him some lunch and some cold well water, even though she hesitated to face him.

Walking slowly down the road to the field, she speculated on whether or not Wil could accept her after her revelation. Before Wil, her changes had turned her life into a nightmare, but she'd learned to live with them. Physically, it wasn't such a big deal. If the situation had happened in reverse _, she_ could accept it. Couldn't she?

Netty looked up at the vibrant sun, noticing the unusual warmth for a late spring day. As she approached the field, she spotted the wagon with Maggie grazing nearby; Wil and Baby were nowhere in sight. She walked along the rock pile and spotted them both, further down the line. Wil was resting on the ground. It looked like he'd fallen asleep. Baby also appeared asleep, curled up next to him. As she moved closer, she noticed Baby seemed to be stroking Wil's hand. _What?_ Breaking into a run, she screamed his name.

" _Willll!_ "

Dropping to her knees, she held his face. Wil writhed in extreme pain, his breath labored and consciousness fading in and out. Looking up at the piles of fieldstone, she easily identified the deadly problem.

Quickly grabbing his arm, she dragged him away from the rock pile. Looking back, Netty spied a huge timber rattlesnake. Clambering over the rocks, she spotted numerous juvenile snakes. It looked like Wil had inadvertently discovered a nest of newborns. Their bites could be just as deadly as the adults'. They hadn't yet learned to conserve their venom for prey instead of a big dumb human looking for rocks.

"Baby, Wil is hurt. Why did you not call me?"

The pressure and rainbows whispered calmly, "Brother is dying."

"Dying? What do you mean, Baby? Wil cannot die, we need him." Netty screamed, raising her head to the sky, "Lord, my Father, _please help us_." Looking down, she pleaded, "Make him better, Baby."

"It would be wrong. It is forbidden."

"Baby, you fixed me. Just do it again for Wil. Do you not love him?" Netty ran over to Baby in time to see him rise as a snake struck out and bit him. He slapped out at the snake, getting bitten again.

"Baby, g _et away from there!_ " Netty ran toward Baby, then turned back as she heard Wil moan.

" _Oh my God_ , someone, please help me," she screamed helplessly. Baby wobbled over to her, his arms outstretched, fingers working spastically. She snatched him up, looking for signs of the snake bites. Inexplicably, she found no signs of any wounds. She held him close, trying to calm him.

Setting him down again, she turned to Wil, wringing her hands. He could hardly breathe and ugly purple swellings were appearing all over his body. The venom was attacking his tissue. He would probably die.

Without thinking, Netty lifted her skirt, sat down and cradled his head. From somewhere far away came the feeling of pressure with the smell of sulfur. Netty looked up and saw her own tail in the air with a mature membrane receding inside. She felt light, fulfilled, complete. Silently, she raised her fearful eyes to Baby. _How did I do that?_ Baby's slight head nodded. Netty understood. She looked at Wil and saw color returning to his face, his breathing normal again. Little by little, he began to focus.

"Netty, what are you doing here? _Snakes, watch out!_ " Wil jumped up, looking for Baby. Snatching him up, he searched his tiny body for bites. "I saw you get bit, Baby, we need to get you to the doctor."

"No, Wil. Please sit down. You have been badly bitten."

"Netty, I am fine." Realizing the truth of what he'd just said, he sat down, bewildered. "Yes, I am fine." His voice faltered with astonishment. He looked at Baby. "Baby is fine, too. How can that be?"

"Wil, I do not know how to tell you this." Netty felt calm; the acceptance of her power inevitable. Wil stared.

"Did Baby do something or did you, Netty?" He gaped at her exposed tail.

"Wil, you were dying. Baby stayed by your side, but for some reason I do not understand, he is unable to heal you. Not just you but people in general."

"It was you, Netty? You healed me?" Wil's countenance reflected a broad canvas of conflicting emotions. "What does this mean?" Wil again looked at her tail. As he approached, he squatted down, haltingly touching the tail. It was warm and firm to the touch. If you set aside who the tail belonged to, it didn't look remarkable except for the bulbous tip and the amazing golden shine of the fine fur. Yes, fur on her tail. _Fur._ Just like Baby's. His brain refused to accept the impossible. His mind reeling, he flopped down in the dirt next to Netty. Holding her hands, he looked into her eyes. Her changes were impossible to ignore. The glow in her eyes pulsed deeper with a new intensity.

Pressure and brain auras flashing, the assailing whisper returned.

"Brother, you will be Elder. Together, we will be Elders. It is forbidden, but done is done. I shall ask the Womb to forgive. Sister didn't know, her control eluded her. We will wait for you to join us. Do not leave. I am pleased, Brother."

Baby shuffled over to Wil, bobbing all the way. He climbed up on to Wil's lap, stroking his face, his tapered leather fingers feathers of affection. Wil nuzzled Baby, wrapping his arms around him.

"It is all right, buddy, I am not going anywhere." Wil turned, assessing Netty's calm demeanor. "Can you please tell me what all this means before I go officially nuts?"

"I do not actually know that much, Wil. I know my appearance turns me into a freak, but I do not feel that way. I guess Baby means you will change now, just the way I have. I am pretty sure you will also develop a tail and have the same ability to heal. I am confused about why I should not have healed you. Baby tells me very little." Netty wrapped her arms around Wil. "Please, Wil, can we go back to the cabin and sort this out there?"

The three of them clung together, unaware of the large timber rattlesnake mother quietly slithering closer, her aggressive stance meant to protect her live newborn young.

As they rose awkwardly, Netty inadvertently stepped close to the aggressively coiled rattlesnake.

Startled out of her deeply emotional discourse by the sound of a warning rattle, Netty stumbled and fell, coming face to face with the snake. The protective mother instantly struck her in the face and again on her arm as her hands tried to fend it off. Wil picked up his nearby rifle and with a wicked thrust, brought the rifle down on the snake's head. The snake slithered quickly back toward the rocks, her head partially smashed and one eye crushed.

Immediately, they detected the heavy odor of sulfur as Baby and Netty both raised their tails, directing their life-saving power to the snake. Dumbfounded, they watched the snake freeze in place, shudder, then calmly continue to her nest in the rocks, a beautiful, vibrant, fully healed mature female.

Wil looked at Netty, now standing with her hands to her face. Slowly she lowered them, running her hands along her arm where she was bitten. Not a mark on her. Just like Baby.

Wil scooped up Baby without a word, Baby's head swiveling all the way around to watch the snakes. Wil took Netty by the hand and led them to Maggie and the wagon to take them back to the cabin.

They rode home in silence; the only sounds the clopping of Maggie's hooves and the reassuring rumble of the wagon's wheels on the rutted road. After stowing away Maggie and the wagon, they quietly returned to the cabin, tension now reigning. Baby curled up on Wil's bed by the fire, looking up at them alertly.

"Someone better start doing some explaining," demanded Wil, his voice incredulous. "And Baby, why were you going to let me die? I saw you heal the snake." Auras returned; the pressure lessening.

"Healing is an imperative. It is what Brothers and Sisters do. It is forbidden to create more Elders. I am forbidden to heal you."

"Who forbids it, Baby?"

"The Womb and the Elders."

"Where are the Elders, what the heck is a Womb and what are _you_ exactly?"

"I am a proud minion of the Womb. The Elders expired eons ago, a devastating punishment for defying the Womb. No longer does the Womb grant immortality. Sister and I are now the only Elders. An honor and a privilege, although an error. You will soon join us. I am not unhappy about that. We will all be Elders together."

"Elders, what the heck does that even mean?" Wil slapped his leg in frustration. "Netty, are you an Elder like Baby says? Baby, where are you actually from?" The only answer they received was silence. Baby didn't speak again.

"I told you, Baby does not speak much. Wil, I know you are scared and upset, but this can all work out." Netty's pleading voice made his heart weep for her. "No one needs to know. This will be easier for you because you know what to expect. It took two years for my tail to grow. And I am fine. Apparently, better than fine." She touched her skin where it should have been broken by the bites.

"I do not want a tail, Netty _. I do not want this,_ " Wil continued to rail, all thoughts of tenderness toward Netty gone. "I do not want this to be my life, do you understand?" Wil felt himself working his way up to a meltdown.

"Wil, please let us try to deal with this. We cannot change what has happened." Netty's low, calm voice was like warm syrup on Wil's frayed nerves. Slowly, he focused and calmed down. Standing to stretch, he paced the room, rubbing his palms together, relentlessly.

"Alright, Netty, alright." Wil sighed, sitting down. The cabin filled with silence, the only sound the crackle of the fire. Flames cast shadows on their strained faces, each waiting for the other to banish the silence.

"I love you, Wil."

He responded with unenthusiastic resignation. "I know you do, Netty, I love you, too."

Netty made a decision, the solution abundantly clear. Kneeling in front of him, she grasped his hand in hers. She slowly placed it on her breast as she engaged his eyes with hers, emotion and passion filling the space between them. She languidly skimmed her full lips across his. Wil groaned and whispered her name.

"Are you sure? Is it okay?"

"I have never been more positive about anything, for such a long, long time." Her face radiated her love and trust. "I was so afraid I would lose you if my secret were exposed. That is why I appeared to reject you. I felt ashamed. We can solve our other problems tomorrow. Tonight, I want us to be together," Netty whispered, the unrestrained passion clear in her voice. "Trust me, it will make everything easier."

Wil swept her up in his arms, his lips seeking hers. Fire exploded between them, breathless groans filled the room. Rising, they broke apart to bashfully beam at one another. Hope back in her heart, quixotic as life itself, Netty led Wil to her bedroom. With a quick wave to Baby, she delightedly shut the door and opened her mind to the possibility of a brand new life.

*

Wil and Netty woke very early the next morning. Netty stayed in bed while Wil rounded up Baby and went to turn out the Jerseys. They immediately returned to the bedroom where Netty waited. Wil jumped back into bed and together they watched Baby shuffle and bob over to the bed, clambering up to squeeze himself in between them. They burst out laughing, hugging Baby and smiling into each other's eyes as they sparkled with life, the new easy intimacy of lovers a boon to their morning.

Wil and Netty's life settled back down to the hard work they espoused. With Netty's newly found confidence, she discovered new strength and tolerance toward her body. Wil gracefully accepted the inevitability of his changes with her guidance. Now, when their customers shopped at the vegetable stand, or accepted delivered produce, their new status tolled their love, loud as a church bell. Most were very happy for them, even as a few still sniffed at their sinful behavior.

Wil eventually managed to hire two new field hands to help him with the planting. The new hands joined them in the fields for picking, as Netty's miracle seed continued to out-produce anything seen before. Extra time to devote to the baking and churning came easily, and their sizable increase in profits escalated the plan for the new bakery. Netty obsessively finished her work at night in time to join Wil in bed, often swatting Baby back to the kitchen. No matter what they did, though, Baby always found his way back to bed, wedged firmly between them. They agreed it was just too darn hard to say no to the lovable creature.

*

Fall descended on the farm like a grande dame preparing to replace her luxurious wardrobe for next season's fashions. Wil was busy hiring Italian laborers who worked long hard hours to complete the bakery. With the completion of the foundation and walls, the two huge fieldstone ovens in the middle of the floor began to take shape. The space allowed Netty to cook a dozen pies at a time. Interior wood boxes allowed firewood to stay dry all winter. Wil's design enabled Netty to better organize her utensils for maximum efficiency. They even discussed the merits of taking on an apprentice to help her in the bakery.

Miracle of miracles, on the day of Netty's twenty fifth birthday, they discovered they were going to have a baby. Most would say pregnancy is unseemly unless you were married to the father. But Wil and Netty refused to accept conventional wisdom. Their jubilance merely gilded their perfect life. The more the bakery grew, the more Netty grew. She realized the time to look into her divorce had long passed. As much as she didn't want their child to grow up a bastard, she wanted more than anything to be Mrs. Wil Capaccino.

Time continued to pass in a haze of laughter, hard work and love. A now seven months pregnant Netty necessarily slowed down. Her pregnancy began to show inevitable signs of difficulty. The constant vomiting worried her: she thought it should have stopped by now. She never felt like eating so she didn't know how she even had anything to vomit up. She also developed a curious desire to lie in the sun, feeling it seep deep into her body and leaving her feeling enriched and less nauseous.

Wil and Baby were doing their best to cover for her. Wil helped with the pies and Baby made a stab at the churn. That was quite a sight. They found Baby never stopped giving them something to laugh about. They idly wondered how Baby would take to their impending bundle of joy, hoping he would celebrate along with them. After all, he was nothing if not joyful about new life.

Netty prepared to make a delivery to a neighbor about two miles down the road. She knew Farmer Neal from her schoolhouse when she was a child. His young wife was also pregnant. Netty wanted to make this delivery herself so she could spend some time with the farmer's wife and compare pregnancies. She promised Wil this would be her last delivery over the bumpy roads.

The lovely March day beckoned, a promise of spring growth around the corner in time to celebrate the end of the construction of the bakery. It had taken every penny of their savings. Netty found herself busy making clothes and diapers for the baby, who would arrive in less than two months. They'd just finished converting the little addition Wil had put on the kitchen during his first year at the farm into a space for the baby's crib. Wil had built the crib, of course, his excitement refused to be corralled.

Netty's thoughts darkened as she remembered Wil complaining of an ache at the very small of his back. He hadn't yet realized what it meant. With the joy of the baby's arrival, she continually pushed away all thoughts of his impending tail. She hoped Wil would be better able to handle his change with the distraction of the baby. Oh well, she knew they would handle _anything_ life threw at them. They were an unbeatable resilient team. How many more difficulties could God possibly throw their way?

Netty pulled up to the Neal farm after lunch, tying the wagon to the old hitch, the Neal's shiny new Ford truck parked in front of their well-maintained barn. She didn't plan to be more than an hour or so.

Knocking on the door, Mrs. Neal answered, inviting her in for tea and happily relieving her of her basket of fresh fruit. She sat in the elaborate kitchen of the Neal's spacious home, quite luxurious by her own standards.

Farmer Neal had a huge herd of Jerseys with vast pastures, confided Ruthann, his wife, still eyeing the unbelievable size of the fruit in Netty's gift basket. Obviously, they too worked hard for their prosperity.

Ruthann rattled on about the farm and their plans for the newborn. They enjoyed their tea and each other's company as the hour passed.

As Netty rose to take her leave, she asked Ruthann if she might first use the privy. Laughing, Ruthann showed her the way out the back door. Netty knew she'd never have made it home without relieving herself; the baby was pressed uncomfortably against her bladder. Her stomach felt like a dead weight as the baby kicked her sharply.

Upon finishing her toilet, Netty returned to the house, letting herself in through the back door. She paused as she heard voices in the kitchen: men's voices. She could hear them discussing business. Netty hesitated to interrupt and turned to let herself back out when she heard Robert's name mentioned.

Now listening closely, she could make out something about raising the rent on the farm. She heard Mr. Neal object, saying Mr. Woods had never raised his rent this often. The other voice also sounded familiar.

Peeking around the corner, she saw none other than Eli, her husband's man. He flailed his arms at Farmer Neal, insisting that the land belonged to Robert Doyle; the Neal family had little choice since they didn't own the land.

Netty pressed herself tightly to the wall, hoping not to be seen. Her heart raced as she slowly backed out the door and ran around the house to the wagon. Clumsily, she pulled herself up as the front door opened and Eli appeared.

She backed the wagon away from the hitching post, hurrying away. Giving a quick glance back, she saw Eli standing there, just looking after her. _Has he recognized me? Will the Neals say anything? Will Eli ask?_

This was a bad omen. Not having to deal with Robert had allowed her the freedom to create a new life. This timing called an end to her good luck and peace of mind; but the Neals' farm? They pay rent to Robert? Were there others? Actually, how big _was_ two thousand acres?

Rushing back to the farm, she found Wil at the bakery, painting it, while Baby played in the barn. Quickly, she related the news to Wil.

"You said two thousand acres? Netty, are you kidding me? I doubt the whole town is even one thousand acres. Netty, you are really rich. And that bastard of a husband is cheating you. He has obviously been collecting the rents from the lease-holders and the tenement farmers for years. We need to hire a lawyer as soon as we can to get him out of your life. He is stealing from you."

"You do not know him, Wil, he is ruthless. He raped and murdered my mama. I do not think it will be that easy."

"Do not worry, babe." Wil rubbed her tummy and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "You have me now. And we have big ol' Baby for backup." He laughed as they spied Baby shuffling and wobbling toward them from the barn. Baby held something in his arms. A barn kitten. He'd discovered the mama cat giving birth five weeks ago and had made himself their protector. He proudly showed them off whenever Wil or Netty would pay attention. They each took a turn to admire the kitten. Baby shuffled off, heading back to the barn.

"Netty, why don't I saddle Maggie and run into town? I can sit down with a lawyer and see where you stand legally."

"Yes, that might be a good idea," Netty considered carefully. "We need to get information right now. I am going to work on some pies in the kitchen then start dinner. Try to hurry home." Netty kissed him goodbye and Wil hurried after Baby to the barn.

*

Netty finished the last of the pies. Sliding them into the oven to bake, she began peeling a four-pound potato for dinner. She heard the latch on the front door. Calling to Baby, she turned, her mouth freezing in mid-sentence. There stood Eli.

"How _dare_ you come into my home? What do you want?" Her voice ricocheted indignantly.

"Well, well, Miz Doyle." He leaned lazily against the back of the door, insolence defining his posture. "Sounds like yer not all that happy ta see me. Thought I would stop by before I head back to Norristown ta see how yer doin'." Eli sauntered further into the room, his bulk blocking the door, cutting off her escape.

"I am sure the boss is gunna be happy to hear how well yer doin' here, means he can sure get a better price for the land when he sells it to that fancy group from New York City."

Netty attempted to prevent her shock registering on her face. Any weakness simply inflamed bullies.

Eli inched closer. "Don't know how he's gunna feel with you carryin' that drifter's bastard, though. Nah, he's not gunna like hearin' that a'tol." Eli reached out, grabbing her elbow, and pulled her so close she could smell the stench of his breath.

"Thought I'd not recognize ya, gal? Ya sure look holier than thou with all that gold hair now, don' cha?" He grabbed her pony tail, giving it a twist. He wrapped it around her throat, flipping her around, then came up behind her. She could feel his erection throbbing against her back.

"Please, Eli, my baby," she whispered.

Eli dragged her over to the old straw bed and threw her down. She landed with a wince on her stomach. She could see him actually slobbering as he leered over her.

"Never wanted ta take a piece of ya when the boss said I could, but I sure think I'll help myself to a piece right now." Flipping her over on her back, he pulled down his pants. Netty tried to kick him, but he grabbed her leg, letting loose with a backhand across her face. Strangely, she felt no pain. But the baby felt different. Something must be wrong. She had to protect the baby.

"My baby, something is wrong. You need to go." She tried to get up, causing Eli to use his foot on her stomach, shoving her back on the straw bed. She felt something pull loose in her womb. Shaking uncontrollably, she tried to shield her abdomen.

" _God no_ , please. My baby."

"Oh, ya gonna be nice, now? Thought ya might change yer mind when ya saw what a real man looked like. Let me hear ya say ya want it, Netty gal. Come on, let me hear it." Eli raised his fist.

"Just get it over with, please." Her voice was reduced to a whimper, and she tried to blank out her mind as Eli raped her. She could get through this. The baby would be fine, Eli would leave. She still had Wil and Baby. _Baby_. _Oh my gosh; where is Baby? Baby, stay in the barn, please,_ she prayed silently.

Eli's weight on top of her felt oppressive. She felt her stomach being compressed as he assaulted her in her most tender and private area. Her tail, wadded up under her waist, cramped from the painful crushing. As Eli finished, she felt blood pool between her legs.

"Oh no, oh no," she moaned. Rolling off the bed, she tried to stand. Her legs buckled and down she went. Holding her stomach, she screamed at Eli. "I need a doctor, please help me."

"Git that wop drifter a yur's ta help. I gotta git back ta Norristown ta give the boss his rents. Ya weren't worth da effort anyway. Ya better keep your trap shut now, hear?" Looking at the blood pooled around her, he sneered.

"What the heck?" Sniffing, he detecting the odor of sulfur that leached from her blood; blood that glimmered, not just red but distinct tones of effervescence. "Looks like ya got yourself a real problem, for Christ's sake, gal." Grimacing, he let himself out the door.

Netty touched the liquid pooling around her. It was very warm, and she could feel heat radiate from it. When she put her fingers in it, the blood parted, leaving her hand dry _. What?_ She gathered her skirt, pressing into her groin to stop the flow. She felt something hitch inside her. She tried to remember when she'd last felt the baby move. It had to have been when Wil had left for town. She considered the color of her blood as she felt a slow dawning of terror, her pulse racing dangerously. _What does it mean? Is this another of my changes? How will it affect the baby? Will the baby be normal?_ Her head was spinning. She had to calm down. _Wil, where are you?_ _Please, come_ _home._

Netty rocked and held her skirt closely as she felt contractions. The baby was coming. _No, it is too early, God please, I beg you_. Tears silently streamed from twin pools of desperate anguish. Slowly, she pulled herself over to the bed to lie down. Just in time, as she felt another gush between her legs. Netty's eyes rolled back in her head and she mercifully passed out.

*

Wil unhitched the wagon, leading the horse to his stall. Filling the water trough, he thought he should bring the Jerseys down from the pasture before he went in for dinner. That would enable him to linger with Netty before he did the milking. Rounding up Baby from his kitten protection detail in the hay loft, he saddled up Maggie and together they started out for the cow pasture trail. As Wil rounded up the Jerseys with Baby holding the gate open, he thought of the information supplied by the lawyer. It appeared they had a tough row to hoe. Even if they could prove their case of fraud, Robert Doyle now wielded a great deal of influence. He was the Norris County magistrate. That position entitled him to privileges in Sussex County where the subject property was. The rumor mill also suggested Robert _owned_ many men in law enforcement, with those in town on his payroll as they engaged in distributing the bootleg rum made in his carriage house at Sunnydale.

Wil was not yet deterred. He really needed to discuss things with Netty first and planned to broach the subject after dinner. He didn't want her to stress until after she ate. He rarely saw her put food in her mouth anymore. _Well, at least she has not been losing weight_.

Arriving at the barn, Baby slipped down from Maggie, dashing toward the hayloft. After giving Maggie a quick brush down and some oats, he collected Baby, pausing to admire the kittens at Baby's insistence. Scooping Baby up and swinging him up on his shoulders, he left the barn.

Mounting the stoop, he noticed the cabin door was ajar.

_Not a good idea,_ Wil thought. _I will have to speak to Netty about that._ Entering the cabin, he choked. The room was filled with smoke, the smell of burnt fruit pies and sulfur. Shooing Baby back out the door, he shouted for Netty. Running to the ovens, he opened the doors and pulled out the ruined pastries. Hearing a moan from the straw bed, he spied Netty lying there. A glowing liquid seemed to be spread over the floor and down Netty's legs. Her tail, with its ominous membrane, hovered helplessly over her head. In Netty's arms lay what was left of their baby.

"I could not heal the baby," Netty said in a tiny tin voice. She sounded empty and lost, clearly in shock.

Tears slipped down Wil's face as he quickly ran to her side. Slipping to his knees, he put his hands on her head, smoothing back her damp hair. Her eyes were open but unfocused. She clung to their infant who was clearly dead, its skin blue underneath a sickly sheen of what appeared to be an effervescent membrane.

Netty focused on Wil and seemed to recognize him. Pitifully, she cried. "He raped me, Wil," she whispered. "He hurt the baby. He hurt our baby."

"Who was here, Netty? Who did this to you?" Wil's face tightened bitterly, his guts contracting. He felt as though he could not breathe.

"It was Eli. He recognized me. It was my fault. I should have stayed home." Netty curled up around her dead child, murmuring to it. Slowly, she sat up, her eyes feverish.

"Baby, where is he? _He can save the baby_. He can bring him back." Scooting to the edge of the bed, she staggered to her feet, weaving to the door and calling for Baby. She fell to the floor as she lost her footing, Wil running to her side. The door opened to Baby sitting on the stoop where Wil had left him. Netty held the infant in her arms, offering her dead child to the creature.

"You can do it, Baby, I have tried, but nothing happened. But you can do it, Baby, you know how." Netty dissolved into incoherent tears as Baby just stared, unmoving. Wil tried to drag her back into the cabin, but she resisted. "Baby, please _. You have to help me_ ," she shouted hysterically. Turning to Wil, she begged, "Please get Baby to help me. He will listen to you."

Colorful auras flashed, iridescence mixed with pressure. The whispers tried to calm her. "Sister, I cannot. The life is already gone."

Netty sat on the floor, limp and stunned. Wil gently eased the stillborn from her arms, holding it tenderly to his chest. He wiped away his silent tears as he wrapped their baby in a blanket and took it to the barn. He would bury his child later, after attending to Netty.

Returning to the cabin, he found Netty still on the floor by the door with Baby at her side, stroking her face. He poured Netty a cup of water, but she pushed it away. Forcing her up, he carried her into their bedroom. He peeled off her damp filthy clothes before pulling a clean nightgown over her head. Slipping her under the covers, he lay down next to her, cradling her in his arms until she drifted off to sleep. The last words she said were, "He hurt the baby."

Wil sat at the table in the kitchen while Netty slept. His pain and anger percolated hotly, quickly heading to a boil. His teeth clenched so hard he could feel his facial muscles spasm. Not a man prone to violence, he contemplated only one course of action. He needed an eye for an eye. Reluctant to rely on the legal system with the threat of Robert Doyle's influence, he resolved to handle the matter himself.

Carefully, he wrote a note for Netty. He carried it into her bedroom where Baby was watching her. He kissed her head, setting the note on her nightstand.

"Baby, lock the door behind me. I will be back in four days. I will send one of the field hands to take care of the Jerseys. Stay in the house until I am back. Netty needs you now." Patting Baby on the head he left the bedroom, stalking out of the cabin with one of their rifles.

# Chapter 6

Robert sat in his library, elegantly sipping from a hand-blown crystal snifter. He enjoyed watching the color of his favorite brandy, looking through the glass as he rotated the crystal in the light of the fire. Eli was overdue, but he should arrive momentarily. He'd better. Anticipation made him restless. He anxiously awaited the pleasure he derived from tabulating the income Eli had collected from Netty's tenement farmers. He smiled to himself, thinking of the windfall the land was bringing him, even though he'd lost the other deal on the acreage shortly after Netty ran off.

He thought about Netty. He rarely worried about her. He knew how to find her. Where _else_ would she be likely to go? He'd heard the rumors of the drifter she'd allowed to take up residence with her. Together they'd apparently made quite an improvement to the property. Maybe he wouldn't sell it just yet, after all. He didn't fear Netty or her drifter. _Well, well, she has turned out to be a wanton trollop after all, has she not?_ He chuckled to himself, thinking of the rumored age difference between the two. He dismissed the strange tales of Netty's produce and her orchards, along with the gossip about Netty's looks. How the cow had even been able to attract the drifter was beyond him. He thought seriously about killing them both. He could make it look as if the drifter had done it. Then he would go in as the patient and forgiving husband, deftly claiming the property.

The sale of some of the acreage would make things much easier for him. His sisters had developed a habit of stopping by to complain about their shortness of funds, expecting him to subsidize them after their wealthy husbands put them on leashes. Their expenses overwhelmed him. He thought of the horses, their yearly wardrobes, their entertaining and the extravagant galas, all pathetic attempts to stay relevant. Their husbands had long ago exhausted their patience with their spending, but Robert found it difficult to say no. Perhaps it was because, as their only brother, he felt a familial obligation. Or maybe, as the youngest, he found it the only way to lord over them. Either way, they created a significant drain on his finances.

A more pressing concern involved a rumor he'd heard at the courthouse. Only a whisper as of yet, but it appeared the federal government was weighing the benefits of legalizing alcohol, a _ctually repealing_ _Prohibition_. That would be disastrous for him. If true, he might not have much time, although the feds were notoriously inept.

Taking another sip, his housekeeper appeared. Big Martha's name fit her precisely. She was big and black, her impassive face clearly having seen plenty, wisely knowing how to keep all to herself.

"Mr. Eli done returned, Mr. Doyle, sir. He sent word up from the carriage house. Sure, sure. He says ta tell you he gone an picked up a present for you from one a the farms he visited. He said she be needin' some supper. I kin fix them sum'un or would you be wantin' ta see him right away?"

"Feed the young lady, Martha; then send her up to my bedroom. Give her one of the usual garments to change into. The blue, I think tonight. I trust it has been properly repaired since last time? And tell Eli to get in here, now."

"Yesum, sir. Sure, sure." As Big Martha left, bobbing her head, Eli popped up behind her, sporting a big grin. He set the money bag down on Robert's desk and pulled up a chair. Without asking, he helped himself to some of Robert's brandy, gulping it down.

"Easy there, bucko, that is mighty expensive stuff," Robert said, clearly annoyed.

"Relax, boss, I deserve it after the ride I gave ol' Netty." Robert favored Eli with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, I ran inta her by accident. Did ya know she got knocked up? I had a lucky chance ta show her what a real man looked like, so I took it. I did leave her a wee bit worse for the wear. I think the bastard babe might not a made it."

"Well, you may have saved me some trouble. But let me know next time before you decide to do something like that," Robert said, mildly irked. "Did you see any sign of the wop she's shacked up with? What kind of shape did you leave her in?"

"She was in pretty bad shape. All this weird shit coming out of her, thought it was blood, but I don' think so. She was holler'n for a doctor when I left." He chuckled. "Sump'n bout the kid."

"Well, dummy, you may have created a little problem for us if he shows up here. If she can identify you, I bet he will. You should have just twisted her ugly neck on the way out, Eli. Clean up your mess like a man."

"She's not an ugly twit anymore, boss. If the farmer I was collectin' from din' tell me who she was I wouldn't a known. I knew I had ta have a piece a that." Casting his eyes down, he belatedly remarked, "Hope you don't mind, boss."

"No, but we better be ready if he shows up." Looking at how the fire glinted off his gold coin collection ( _minus one coin, the bitch, I know she took it_ ), he gathered inspiration, hatching a beautiful plan. Yes, quite perfect. It would easily remove one annoying obstacle from his road to the fair Netty and solve Eli's problem at the same time.

"Eli, it is time for me to have my evening entertainment. Thank you, by the way. If any spirit remains after I am finished, I will send her to your room. If not, I will ring as usual and you can dispose of her. Please remember to remove the gown first. Drop it off with the housekeeper for repairs in the morning. I am sure it still has some wear left in it. If Netty's drifter shows up, wake me, regardless of the time."

Robert stood, bidding goodnight to Eli. He moved to his safe where he deposited the receipts from Eli's last collection. Passing the prominent display of his coin collection, he paused. With a devilish grin, he removed two of the coins, slipping them into the pocket of his opulent dressing gown. He gave a satisfied shake of his head and mounted the stairs to his bedroom, relishing the anticipation of the evening's pleasures.

*

The long journey to Norristown wore Wil down, yet his vengeance still simmered ominously. Maggie plodded with fatigue, holding up like a champ. He knew he couldn't be that far behind the bastard that had torn apart his life. Poor Netty, she didn't deserve any of this. He tried not to cry as he thought about what the loss of their baby might do to them. Pushing the thoughts from his head, he tried to concentrate on a plan. He felt sure he could find Sunnydale without much trouble. After all, how many hulking mansions did one city have?

Before long, he managed to locate the Doyle estate. Predictably, it was located on the best street in the city. He tied Maggie to a tree down the block. If anything went wrong he didn't want her involved. He knew someone would find and care for her until the time came to reclaim her. For added insurance, he wrote down his name and address, tucking it inside his saddlebag.

Creeping on to the property, he watched the front door without seeing any activity. The luminous moon beamed prominently, exposing the manicured lawn along with Wil's inadequate hiding place. He silently reconnoitered the estate, sneaking around the side of the house to watch the back door. Still no activity.

He shook the weariness from his tired swollen eyes as he wondered what it had been like for Netty to live in this huge mansion. _How am I going to quickly find Eli on this property? And what will I actually do when I find him? Can I shoot him?_ He realized no jury would find him sympathetic if he shot a man in cold blood, even if the man had raped his woman and caused the death of his unborn baby. He felt the rush of blood in his ears as he imagined his callused hands around Eli's neck. Maybe it would be better if he shot them both, Robert _and_ Eli.

He stared at the back door, wondering how many people were inside the house. He needed to simmer down and plan this carefully.

Through the trees at the back of the property he observed flickers of light. It must be the carriage house where Robert conducted his bootleg business. _How many people does he employ? Will they come running if they hear a gunshot?_ Wil's mind swirled with options and terror. He'd be worthless to Netty in jail, leaving her even more vulnerable and damaged. He shifted his body, feeling cramped and uncomfortable. Desperation to get back to Netty further frayed his reserves. Before long, Wil's eyes drooped, allowing deadly sleep to claim him, mercifully allowing his demons a respite.

Startled awake by the sound of a far off gun shot, his heart thudded rapidly, causing him to break into an acrid sweat. Widening his eyes, he saw the barrel of his own rifle sighting down at him. _What the—?_

Strong arms grabbed him, lifting him off his feet. He felt a solid punch to his solar plexus, squashing his breath back down his trachea. Another fist mainlined right to his face. They dropped him to the ground, stomping him thoroughly. A boot landed in his face, smashing his nose, another kicked at his kidneys. The men suddenly stopped as a large man in a dressing gown approached. He held one hand in his pocket. Ordering the men to pick Wil up, he put one arm around his shoulders, prompting him to stumble to the front of the house.

Blood dripped from Wil's nose briefly, then stopped. He straightened up, the pain from his beating gone as suddenly as if whisked away. Grateful, he remembered Netty and Baby's rapidly healed snake bites. Slapping him on the back, the big man gave Wil a long glacial glare.

"Well, you sure took that beating well." He searched Wil's body looking for signs of injury from the brutal thrashing inflicted on him. The man's eyes narrowed. "Go home, boy. Before I have my boys give you another dose of our hospitality."

Wil slowly walked down the drive, now minus his rifle, disconsolate and wondering why he'd wasted time on this futility. His confusion distracted him so much, he failed to sense the weight of two gold coins, now nestled comfortably in the back pocket of his work pants. He trudged down the road to collect Maggie, defeat and humiliation weighing him down like a child who'd just lost his underwear to a schoolyard bully. He should never have come. He should have stayed with Netty. She needed him more than he needed to vent his anger. He felt awash in impotence and faced a very long ride home.

Poor Maggie, she was in for a long haul again, too. At least she'd been able to rest. Maybe he could locate some oats and water for her before they took off. Rounding the bend where he'd left her tied up, he spotted her lying on the ground, her face splattered in blood. _What the—?_ Running up to her, his shocked eyes tried to deny the truth of the fresh bullet hole in her temple, brain splatter creeping from underneath her velvet majestic head. _No. Not Maggie, please—not my beautiful girl._ He slumped his head down on hers. She still felt warm, but he knew: She was gone. _Oh, God, why?_ _What have I done to displease you so?_ Overcome with shock, he kissed her still damp tender muzzle, lay down in the dirt and broke down, thoroughly defeated.

# Chapter 7

Netty frequently lost track of time, but thought it had been at least two weeks since Wil had left the cabin, forcing her to wonder if she might lose her sanity if he stayed away one more day.

"You are sure he said four days, Baby?"

"Yes, Sister; four rotations of the sun happened many rotations ago. I do not think Brother is coming back."

"Why do you say that, Baby? Wil would _never_ desert us. We are a family. He loves us. He knows we are waiting for him."

"I know, Sister. I need Brother to bring Maggie back. It is time to turn out the Jerseys. Maybe I need to go and find him." The aura faded from her mind as Baby's long fingers closed spasmodically, a sure sign of agitation. She pulled Baby up to her lap for comfort, her endless tears dripping down to soak into his fur as she reflected on their lonely wait.

She'd woken the day after she lost the baby, feeling like a hunk of dead meat that didn't know enough to stay down. Baby clung, thankfully, to her side every moment. She'd forced herself up to check on the Jerseys and found Wil's note. Reading, she realized Wil had gone to find Eli. A better solution might have been to call the sheriff, if only they owned a telephone. She needed Wil desperately. She just wanted his arms around her, telling her things would be good again. She'd walked around the cabin in a time warp, not bathing, dressing or combing her now ratty hair. What was the point without Wil?

She'd been forced to bury their child by herself. She'd found it wrapped up in the barn where Wil had set the poor thing. At least Baby had accompanied her while she said goodbye. They did it together. Throwing dirt on her and Wil's baby as it lay in the primitive grave felt like throwing dirt on their past life together. She'd held Baby tightly as she cried over the grave, rocking him slowly in her arms. They'd walked back to the cabin and slept long hours. She'd known the Jerseys were being tended to by Wil's helpers. Luckily, she found she'd suffered no lasting damage from the assault. She refused to use the word rape. Denial was her current means of exerting control in a world that left her feeling like flotsam at the mercy of a hurricane. So she just slept while she waited for Wil to come home.

*

Almost three weeks had passed by the time she seriously considered searching for him. She was in the kitchen when she heard a knock and, shooing Baby into the bedroom, she answered the door. It was Farmer Neal from down the road.

"Howdy, Netty," he said, removing his hat. He danced from side to side as if he had to urinate. "Well now, ah oh, shoot. You sure have been good to my Ruthann, so I thought I should be the one to tell you. We were in town last week and we heard tell that Wil was in jail. They said he got arrested for stealing. Got him dead to rights down the road from where it happened. They say he shot his horse and tried to blame it on someone else. Sorry to give you the news, Netty." Looking down, he noticed she was no longer pregnant. "Well, well, Netty, looks like the baby came. Congratulations. Be seeing you now." And with a tip of his hat, he disappeared off the stoop.

Netty stood motionless, her brain stunned, then overcome with panic. She heated some water on the fireplace and washed in her bedroom. Her hair was a mess. She pulled it back quickly. Running to the barn, she got their other horse and hooked up the wagon. She instructed Baby to lock the door and not come out for anything.

Quickly, she rode toward town. Maggie shot by Wil? Never. _Absolutely not._ Maybe Farmer Neal had got the story wrong. She knew for sure that Wil hadn't stolen a darn thing. Choking back a sob, she urged the horse to hurry. She arrived in town just after lunch, making a beeline for the sheriff's office.

Entering one of the only brick buildings, she felt her anxieties return, wondering what she needed to say. Should she report Wil as missing? Should she report Farmer Neal's story? Should she report the rape? She decided she must first find Wil.

Walking up to the desk at the front of a large reception room, she asked for the sheriff. Explaining he was in a meeting, the receptionist suggested she could wait if she liked. Netty decided she would. She took a seat furthest from the front door. It offered some measure of privacy, sheltered behind a wall that projected partially into the room. The small wall displayed all kinds of official bulletins. Netty hoped they might be revealing.

Time passed slowly as Netty read the bulletins. Townspeople bustled in and out on various errands. Many found time just to shoot the breeze and pass the time with the sheriff's receptionist.

As Netty scanned the sheriff's bulletins, she noticed Mr. Simpson, the creepy butcher, enter with a deputy. Just then, the sheriff came into the room and joined them. For some reason, Netty thought to shrink tight against the wall where she couldn't be seen. She was just close enough to see Mr. Simpson clap the sheriff on the arm. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she looked out the window. She snapped her attention back to the room when she heard Mr. Simpson whisper coarsely.

"Hear you found an easy way to part that upstart drifter, Wil Capaccino from Netty Doyle's property. Does the boss have any plans to get rid of him for good or is he just gunna go for the land now that she's easy pickings?"

"We need to take things slow. I think Doyle is going to let him rot in jail until he comes up with a plan to grab the property. These things are getting harder and harder to cover. His men, that includes you, Simpson, tend to get a little too bloodthirsty for me. Go easy on her, won't you? I do not want an unexplainable body to dispose of. I would like to avoid raising a lot of uncomfortable questions."

The sheriff shook hands with Mr. Simpson and escorted him to the door. Turning, he spotted Netty sitting against the wall. His face froze. Shaking off his surprise, he approached her.

"Well, Mrs. Doyle, is there some way I can help you today?"

Netty had heard enough to realize what she was up against. Robert must have quite a few in this town on his payroll. The best thing to do was to act as if she'd heard nothing. But she still needed information. She swallowed quickly to steady her voice.

"I understand Wil is in jail. Can you tell me what he is accused of and where he might be?"

"Well, Mrs. Doyle, he is accused of stealing some valuable gold coins from your husband in Norristown. He was thrown in jail after court by Mr. Doyle himself. He _is_ the chief magistrate now, you know."

"So, he is in jail in Norristown? When will he be getting out?"

"Don't know that he will be getting out. Seems he shot one of Mr. Doyle's horses. Tried to claim the horse as his own, but then could not explain why he had shot it. He had some dandy story that Doyle's men shot the horse and framed him. Mr. Doyle had a lot of witnesses. You know what happens to a horse thief. Sorry I cannot help you, Mrs. Doyle, but they will probably hang him in time. Good day." Tipping his hat to Netty he returned to his office, leaving her standing frozen to the spot, her face a bloodless mask.

*

The sheriff watched Netty rush out the door and run down the street. Calling his deputy, he quickly wrote a letter and sealed it. The telephone party line needed to be avoided with a matter as sensitive as this.

"Deliver this to the boss. He better know she may be up to something, might need to step up his plans. She could start some trouble for us if we are not careful."

*

Netty ran blindly down the street. She felt totally alone. Who could she trust in this town? She now realized she and Wil had kept to themselves far too much. She had no friends to turn to, only Baby and Wil. They were all she'd ever needed. Even her customers weren't to be trusted. There was no way of knowing what name sat on Robert's payroll, plotting against her to steal her land. But she must still save Wil.

Wringing her hands, she frantically scanned the sparsely crowded street, recognizing no one. She needed someone connected to the court system. She must avoid anyone with clout or success, in case they were loyal to Robert. She just needed a lead on how to proceed.

Rounding a corner, she spotted a pathway that led to the poorly frequented part of town. Rotted garbage lay along a few boarded up store fronts, a door with screechy hinges banged loudly. As she considered the wisdom of her presence there, an unseen child screamed at an imagined insult, the sound echoing down the street.

This was the black section of town. Most towns didn't even let them own property, but this town fostered a huge respect for a man's hard work, and many hardworking blacks had found a home here. Netty stumbled down the pathway to the only building that showed any sign of life. She heard southern hill music coming from inside the dark building. Stepping up to the open door, she entered. She peered through the dimness, smelling heavily sweating, musky male bodies and something she suspected was spirits.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she noticed every black face turned her way. She hesitated as the room stopped all motion, a sudden silence drawing further eyes her way. Silence ticked loudly.

"You aut not ta be here, M'sus." She heard a deep voice emanate from the gloom.

"Gentlemen, ah, if you could just give me a moment of your time? I am sorely in need of advice." Her faltering words were met with unfriendly stares. "Please, I mean no one any harm. I am looking for your legal adviser; if you could just direct me." Her pleading voice petered out. Netty couldn't hold back tears as she realized this was a dead end.

Turning, she made her way back to the door when she heard a voice say, "Reverend Penny, Misus. You best be leav'in now, b'for there be trouble. Pretty lady like you don' belong here." Nodding her thanks, Netty backed out of the little building, tripping over her feet on the way out.

Retracing her steps, she made it back to the main thoroughfare.

Finding her way to her wagon, she drove to the square where the churches clustered. She was looking for the Baptist Church, the only church that would accept the small number of black families from the area. Reverend Penny was rumored to not see black or white, only God's children. She should have thought of him to begin with. Netty approached the church, admiring the beauty of its stunning stained glass windows; very expensive stained glass. The congregation must be larger than she realized. Entering the church, she looked down to the altar where Reverend Penny and a little black child stood together.

The tearful girl of about six years held a small dog in her arms that looked crushed, probably by the wheel of a wagon or the tire of one of the new automobiles in town. Its rear leg lay at an unnatural angle, a grisly bone exposed. It hung limply in the child's arms as her tears fell on its face, causing the dog to whine pitifully. She overheard the child ask Reverend Penny if God could please heal her doggie.

Netty's tail, lying comfortably hidden under her skirt, suddenly unwound, rising into the air. She tried franticly to rein the unbridled appendage in, appalled by her inconceivable lack of control.

The church quickly filled with the smell of sulfur. Her tail soared as the membrane shot out its healing pressure, directed at the puppy. As the dog wiggled out of the child's arms, Netty quickly sat down in a pew, hoping to be overlooked.

The child ran up the aisle, calling to her dog as it emerged from the church, ready to resume battle with wagon wheels. Reverend Penny, flummoxed by the pup's startling transformation, collapsed on the floor.

Hurrying to the altar, her tail now firmly tucked under her skirt, she rushed to the reverend, helping him to his feet. He appeared dazed, confusion obscuring his pious carriage. Introducing herself without pause, Netty requested a private word.

"My dear, did you see a young child with a dog run outside?"

"Yes, Reverend, I did."

"The dog, he was running on all four legs?"

"Yes, Reverend, he was."

Reverend Penny slowly turned to the golden cross on the altar and on bent knee, genuflected. Netty mulled over what had just happened. She knew the more she was in public, the more likely another incident would be. Sooner or later, it would lead to her exposure. She didn't think she could handle any more stress, she was only just holding herself together as it was. Collecting herself, she forced her mind to focus.

"Reverend, if we could sit down somewhere private?"

Distractedly, the reverend rose and led Netty into his personal sanctuary. Pulling out a chair for Netty, he sat behind his desk.

"Forgive me, my dear, I am a bit preoccupied. Is there something I can do for you?"

Netty hesitantly spoke of her problem, omitting her rape and the loss of their baby. She just didn't think she was strong enough to speak about it and wanted all the reverend's attention directed to the problem with Wil.

"Well, my dear, I do not know how much I can do for you, but I do know that your young man is entitled to bail, as long as he has not been brought to trial as a horse thief. Can you afford to pay bail?" Netty quickly nodded her head yes.

"I will do my best to find out how much it is. I suggest you round up the funds and meet me back here tomorrow. We will go to the sheriff together to post his bail. Once he is out of jail, we can find a good lawyer and think about his defense." Reverend Penny appeared to have recovered from the incident at the altar as he suddenly awarded her with a genuine, snake oil salesman smile.

As Netty left the reverend's sanctuary she felt his eyes bore into her from behind, his change in demeanor fostering a premonition, forcefully banished as she hurried home.

# Chapter 8

Wil tried to roll over on his cramped metal bunk bed. He shared his dismal nondescript cell with two other men. His first cellmate had stupidly tried to sell his homemade moonshine to a saloon owner already supplied by Robert Doyle's men. He'd received a severe beating for his efforts and sixty days in jail. Wil wondered what they'd charged him with. The other man was new, moved suddenly into Wil's cell the night before. The big ugly guy kept his silence, sitting on the edge of his bunk staring at Wil, unnerving him.

Wil worried constantly about Netty. He was convinced she was in danger. Why go to these lengths to frame him? And if Netty was in danger, then so was Baby. It was clear to Wil that Robert Doyle wanted the farm and found it expedient to get Wil out of the way first.

He wondered about Netty's mental state. He should never have left her side. In the almost three weeks since his assault and Maggie's murder, time had passed as fast as a snail running a foot race. As of yet, no one had bothered to take the time to inform him of the charges against him. He figured it must have something to do with the gold coins they'd found in his back pocket when they'd searched him after Doyle's men had dragged him to the local sheriff's office. God only knew how the coins had got there. He'd offered nothing when questioned about them.

He didn't doubt for an instant that Robert Doyle had concocted a tidy fairy tale for the sheriff after planting the coins in his pocket. Sadly, no one wanted to hear anything about Maggie's murder. They just ignored him. He still cried whenever he thought about her. In his heart he knew he bore the responsibility. He tormented himself with the knowledge that his poor judgment and immaturity had led to her death and this cell, leaving Netty and Baby vulnerable. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. Twenty one years old and sitting in jail with his life still waiting to be lived. His mama would be ashamed.

Underestimating Robert Doyle, the twisted and pernicious bastard, might have cost them their lives. But how could they keep him in here forever? Sooner or later, he would figure out how to get a message to Netty. Maybe he could work something out with his bunkmate when he'd finished his sixty-day sentence.

It was almost time for their dinner. Meals were the only time Wil felt close to Netty and Baby in this cheerless, oppressive lockup. He was reminded of Netty's laughter, her lovely face, her worshiping trust as she stood in the kitchen cooking for him. And boy, everyone knew Netty sure could cook. It had become the nicest part of his day as he reminisced about how they loved to linger over their tea, dreaming big about their plans for the farm, watching Baby wobble around and laughing at his antics before they retired to the bedroom to lie in each other's arms. They marveled about their chance meeting in the woods that had led them to such complete contentment, even as they fumbled with the problems associated with their bodies' changes. Fate is a wonderful thing.

Wil heard noise in the corridor, presumably the trays for dinner. The bailiff appeared at the door to his cell, opening it up with his noisy ring of keys. Surprisingly, he shouted for Wil's bootlegging cellmate, ordering him to accompany him and refusing to disclose further information. Wil casually wondered at the significance of the unusual time chosen to remove his cellmate. The guards knew better than to come between a prisoner and his chow.

Wil's cellmate never returned, nor did they get their dinner. Wondering what was up, Wil turned over in his bunk, lying flat to alleviate the constant ache in his lower back, his tail announcing its growth. Staring up at the drab mucky ceiling, he lost himself in his memories of Netty and Baby.

*

Wil was so deep in thought that he failed to notice the bailiff quietly returning and silently slip something lethal and shiny to his remaining cellmate. He also failed to notice his cellmate creep slowly over to his bunk, raising the arm that held a glittering butcher's knife and bringing it down solidly on Wil's arm, severing his hand below the wrist, then quickly exiting through the cell door and clicking it shut behind him.

As Wil fell out of his bunk, incomprehension overriding shock, he discovered his severed hand lying on the dirty cement floor. Stumbling to the cell door, he watched the blood stream out of his arm. Sliding down to the cold floor, he held his arm up, hoping to slow the gushing blood.

"Help, I need help _. Bailiff,_ g _uard_ , please help, I need a doctor. It's urgent _. I'm bleeding_. Help me!" Wil screamed for attention for twenty minutes. No one came. As he slipped further down to the floor, he felt darkness intrude into the edges of his vision. His thought process slowed, blood loss causing him to forget where he was, his arm, now in his lap, cold and painless from shock.

He thought he could smell the warm organic odor of Netty's barn. It must be time to saddle Maggie and turn out the Jerseys. Where was Baby? He couldn't leave without his little buddy in the saddle.

He called for his mama, feeling an urgent need for her soothing hands and loving voice. Slipping into darkness, the last thing reflected in Wil's dimming eyes was the unusual iridescent color of his blood as it finished spilling his life onto the cruddy concrete floor of his cell.

*

Netty hurried home after leaving the Baptist church. Relief and hope coursed through her body as she rejoiced over the fabulous solution Reverend Penny had suggested. Now all she had to do was find the money. Rushing home with the wagon, she found Baby in the barn with his kittens.

"Baby, I thought I told you to not open the cabin door. It is for your own safety." Scooping Baby up under her arm, kitten and all, she ran to the front door of the cabin, finding it locked.

"Baby, how did you get out of the cabin if the door is still locked from the inside?" Walking around the back, she saw the opened bedroom window. "Well, Baby, I guess this is the way we are going to have to get back in. I am going to boost you up and you can go around front and let me in." Auras sent pressure to her mind.

"Sister, my kitten."

"Yes, Baby, you can take your kitten with you." Shaking her head with amusement, Netty helped Baby through the window and passed the kitten over the windowsill. Going around to the front of the cabin she found Baby waiting for her. She realized Baby had given her the first laugh she'd mustered in weeks.

Dashing through the house looking for money, she happily explained to Baby that Wil would soon be home. Baby trailed behind her with his wobble and shuffle, dangling his kitten from his arm. Counting the money, she realized it might not be enough. _Oh, no._ They'd spent all their savings on the new bakery. _Think, think, think_. She slapped herself on the head. _Wait._ Did she dare?

Running into the bedroom, she dug to the bottom of the hope chest Wil had made for her on the anniversary of their first year together and, ironically, one of Baby's favorite hiding places. She kept digging down till she found it. Withdrawing her fingers, she held up the gold coin. The very one she'd stolen from her husband before she ran from him over three years ago. It would finally do her some good.

Fixing a sketchy dinner for herself, although she found she couldn't eat a thing, she decided to give the cabin a good cleaning. Tomorrow would be a big day. Taking the money to Norristown, Reverend Penny planned to bail Wil out of jail. Counting on their return in a day or two, Netty hoped to celebrate with Wil and Baby before they found an attorney and settled in to resolve the problems with Robert. Cuddling in bed with Baby (and his kitten, of course), she thought about their lost infant. She promised herself to take the time to visit the grave with Wil when he got home. Knowing they both enjoyed excellent health and had youth on their side, she realized that, in time, they could try for a baby again. She finally had her first nightmare-free sleep in weeks.

Rising early, Netty started for town with high expectations. She arrived at the Baptist church shortly after morning service, finding Reverend Penny in his private office.

"Reverend, I have the money for Wil's bail." She breathlessly poured the coins out on the desk. Looking up, surprised by the reverend's pained expression, she felt her stomach give an uncertain lurch.

"My dear, please sit down. I have some unfortunate news for you." Holding tightly to her hands, he broke the news of Wil's death. Found in his cell, he'd apparently managed to cut off his own hand on the rough metal supports of his bed in an attempt to take his own life.

Netty heard nothing but white noise after the word death. She sagged, dropping heavily to the floor, only held up by the grip Reverend Penny had on her hands. Her head swam. "Oh no, no, no, no, God. Please, no." She moaned as Reverend Penny dragged her to a chair, propping her up.

" _I don't believe you_. _I need to see Wil_ ," she suddenly screamed, hysteria now a frequent visitor.

"I'm afraid we might have another problem on our hands, Mrs. Doyle," the reverend said, releasing her hands. Netty didn't respond. She couldn't make out anything further the reverend said. Her life had just turned to cold ash. This couldn't possibly be true. Wil would never do such a thing. It had to be a lie. She rose slowly, gripping the side of the chair, her face devoid of color. She needed to be alone. Baby; she needed to get home to Baby. She stumbled unsteadily.

"Mrs. Doyle." At the sound of her name, she tried to focus. Reverend Penny stood in front of her, a most pious look on his face, holding his hand outstretched to her. As she reached for his hand, she stared and let her own float in the air aimlessly before dropping it to her side, her defeated countenance a mask of despair and tragedy. For in the palm of his hand lay her gold coin.

Looking into his face, her voice trembling, she asked, "Reverend Penny, what is the meaning of this?"

"Mrs. Doyle, why don't you come with me to the sheriff's office where we can straighten this out? Mr. Doyle himself took time from his precious schedule to come all this way to help us." His grip felt like iron as he tried to ease her toward the door.

"Mr. Doyle?" Netty's saliva stuck thickly in her throat.

"Yes, he is a great benefactor to the church. I thought it best to turn this delicate matter over to him. He usually rewards the church well for the efforts I make in managing the congregation. You understand what I mean?" Netty tried to break Reverend Penny's iron grip on her hand.

"Now, Mrs. Doyle. Why don't you show me what a lady you are and come along?" The reverend sounded exasperated. He snaked both of his arms around her as he relentlessly duck-walked her to the door. Netty suddenly dropped to the ground, releasing herself from his grip. She slipped out from under his arms, grabbed the gold coin, and ran.

Her breath came in gasps as she jumped into her wagon and took off out of town. _Robert is here._ _What will they do to me? Can they still arrest me? Like Wil? Oh my Lord, what have they done to him?_ She refused to believe he was dead until she saw for herself. She'd better plan to hide out somewhere first.

She must get home quickly. Baby waited there. She couldn't run without him. Frantically, she wondered where they could hide. Nothing came to mind. Pitifully, the tears streamed down her face again; her mind so full of panic over Wil and Baby that her adrenalin almost incapacitated her. She drove the horse faster, bumping dangerously over the rutted road.

Netty finally made it to the cabin. She planned to pack food and clothes in the wagon, then grab her Winchester and Baby last. She pulled the wagon right up to the stoop. Banging on the door, she screamed for Baby. As she slipped through the door she turned to close it, glancing toward the barn. She almost fainted at the sight of a dozen men streaming out of the barn toward the cabin. Amongst them, she saw none other than Robert, Eli, the sheriff, Mr. Simpson and the other thugs who worked for Robert.

She quickly locked the door, grabbing her Winchester. Her mind felt pressure, frantic colors swirling wildly in her mind.

"Sister, trouble comes."

"Yes, Baby, we are trapped."

"Where is Brother, he will save us?"

Netty choked back a sob, her trembling hands running spastically through her hair at her temples. "No Baby, we must save ourselves." Dashing into the bedroom, Netty spotted the window. She grasped at an idea. Instructing Baby to burrow under her clothes in the hope chest, she closed it tight. Shoving Robert's gold coin into her pocket, she ran to the window and clambered out. She knew they would realize what she'd done, but at least it would decoy them away from Baby. Running toward the woods behind the cabin, she prayed to God to grant her enough strength to elude the men long enough to get safely to her granite rock. The cavern beckoned; a perfect sanctuary. She knew if she carried Baby with her, she ran the risk of slowing herself down, exposing them to capture. Now, if they did catch her, at least Baby would be safe. After waiting them out, sneaking back to the cabin to collect Baby would solve everything for now. They could hide out at the cavern until she came up with a better plan. Actually, maybe hiding there indefinitely might work out. She didn't eat much anymore and Baby didn't eat food anyway. Water was a small necessity she would worry about later.

Netty made it to the woods without being seen. She heard shouts coming from the direction of the cabin. They must have searched her bedroom by now and found the open window. She'd hoped to have a little more time. Plunging through bramble bushes, she felt them tear her skin. By the time she glanced down to her arms, the scratches had disappeared. _Wow, do I not need Baby to heal me now?_ Hope sprang up and lodged firmly in her throat as she ran on.

Trees whipped past, their swaying branches witness to her stumbling; her frantic wits trying desperately to hold her together. Sounds of shouting filtered through the woods like dappled sunlight through the trees. They sounded as if they might be gaining on her. She tried to pick up her pace.

Rounding a corner without watching her footing, she tripped on a rock and down she went, losing her grip on her Winchester. _Damn_. _Where is the_ _darn thing_? Netty spotted it, victim to her untimely fall, lodged between two rocks. Tugging on it ineffectively, she found her strength deserting her. Precious time lost. Making the decision to leave it behind, she ran on.

Her pace slowed as she located the pathway that ran along the hillside leading to the rock. She remembered pausing to rest here the night she'd discovered Baby. Stifling a sob, she thought about all the happiness he'd brought to her barren life, and to Wil's. She pushed all thought of Wil away. She couldn't afford to deal with her heartbreak now.

Netty navigated the path until she came to her rock. Finally, she found a safe second to pause, forcing painful gulping sobs down her throat. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the gold coin. Bitterly, she thought about the trouble her impulsive decision to steal it had rained down on her. Suddenly, flashing auras with their accompanying pressure assaulted her mind. She felt strangled cries. _Baby, oh no._

"Sister, bad Brother _. Bad Brother, bad Brother._ "

Netty's heart fell. _Is Baby warning me or is he in danger himself?_ She slowly turned. It was Eli. He held her Winchester in his hands. Netty felt frozen to the rock. Only a few steps to freedom and it damnably eluded her.

"Where ya go'n, sweetie? Ain't ya happy ta see me?" Leaping forward, he grabbed Netty's ponytail, painfully yanking her back toward the trail. She stumbled and fell, hearing Eli curse her. Her hand reflexively opened, accidentally releasing the gold coin. She could hear it as it bounced from rock to rock, finally settling out of sight near the cairn marking the entrance to the cavern.

"Get yer ass movin' now, Netty gal. He's not a patient man."

Netty saw the glee dancing in Eli's eyes. She pulled herself to her feet, trying to keep up. She knew her chances of escape were now limited. As they neared the edge of the woods, they were joined by more of Robert's men. Judging by the shouts and nasty laughter, she knew they were looking for blood. By the time they cleared the woods, she was being dragged on the ground by three men, her tail bumping painfully over the rocks. Hauled upright, she found herself back at the cabin in front of her barn, Baby, thankfully, nowhere in sight. In front of her stood Robert, holding something wrapped in a handkerchief.

"Well, Netty, it's been a long time. I hear you have something of mine." He glanced around to his men, a depraved grin on his spiteful face. "Well now, I just might have something of yours." He released the handkerchief, allowing it to open before tossing it on the ground. Out rolled a human hand, stiff and gray, clearly severed from a human wrist. Netty could see the telltale signs of iridescent blood soaked into the handkerchief. Soundlessly, she collapsed to the ground, her futile denials confirmed.

When she came out of her faint, Netty found her hands tied behind her back as she stood on the back of her very own wagon, her horse in his traces, prancing nervously. She felt something heavy around her neck. Looking up, she saw a rope thrown over the cross support over her barn door. The very rope attached to the noose weighing down her neck.

"Don't worry about the farm, Netty. I will take good care of it, just the way we took care of your wop drifter." Stepping closer to the wagon, he gave her a wink. Netty strained, leaned over and spat in his face. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Robert shouted for the sheriff. "Alright, Sheriff, I have determined the honor will be yours."

As the sheriff approached, a loud bang came from the stoop of the cabin. It was Eli. He'd one hand wrapped around Baby's crown of crystal antlers, holding him high in the air. The other held Baby's kitten by its neck.

"Look what I found in the bedroom. The weird fucker mus' be her pet." Netty's mind felt a chaotic aura.

" _Sister, bad Brother,_ all bad Brothers."

Netty screamed.

The last thing she saw as the sheriff slapped her horse with his hat, jerking her in the air to snap her neck, was Eli. He put a bullet into the kitten's head on the stoop and, tossing Baby to the ground as he jumped, landed on Baby's head with a crunch, spilling his glorious iridescent blood in the dirt before lifting his boot to her stoop, wiping off the essence of the incredible creature that she and Wil had loved so much.

*

Silence descended over the crowd. The men stared at Netty's limp body as it twisted from the noose, her weight causing the wooden barn support to creak eerily. In the distance, wheels of the wagon rattled mournfully over loose stones as Netty's horse nervously stamped, unattended.

"All right, the show's over. Someone cut her down, for Christ's sake." The sheriff grimaced as Netty's body struck the ground in a heap, her skirt flipping up to reveal a cooling leg.

Eli sheathed the knife he'd used to cut the rope, bending over to nudge the skirt higher.

"Anyone want to peek at the goods? I already had my share." He looked around, sickness drooling from his rheumy eyes.

Mr. Simpson joined him to stare down at the body. Lifting the skirt with the toe of his boot, he stared. "You better come take a look at this, boss."

Robert, the sheriff and the rest of the men gathered around the body. The sheriff slapped Simpson's hand away as he held up her skirt. "Have some respect, you moron. Has she not suffered enough?" His face registered the disgust and revulsion of their actions. Siding up to him, Robert shot him a deceptively casual glance.

"Sheriff, anytime working for me gets to be too much of a burden, you just let me know. I got five or six different men that might just kill for your job." Roberts's cold eyes and chilling tone spoke volumes. The sheriff's expression shut like a slammed door. Stepping back, he glad-handed Robert forward.

"Now, what do we have here, Eli?" Robert bent over. Eli's face drained of color as he booted the body on to its back.

" _What the fuck?_ " __ All heads swiveled together, leaning in to stare as Eli exposed Netty's golden tail, her fur soaked with urine.

"Holy Christ!"

"Devil's work."

"She's a freak."

"She was your wife, Robert, did you not know about this?" His men looked at him with suspicion. Robert looked from face to face seeing derision.

"Boss, there's sumin' fishy about that pet a hers."

"Go get it, Eli, and bring it over here."

Eli ran to the stoop of the cabin where Baby lay dead in the dirt. Grabbing the carcass by the tail, he returned to the men, tossing it on top of Netty's body. Baby's long leather arm landed on the side of Netty's face as if in a caress. The men were dumbstruck. The tail on the creature matched the tail on the body. Slowly, the men edged back.

"That is just not normal." Robert's face looked as if carved in stone. The rest of the men muttered to themselves, fear-tinged voices threatening to bolt.

The sheriff stepped up to Robert, placing his hand on his shoulder reassuringly, his voice shaky. "Something happened here, for sure. We will never know what. Let's just get them buried and get out of here before a neighbor wanders by. We can come back after the sale of the first acreage closes. I will send someone out here to bring the livestock into town. I know a guy down near Lafayette that will take them off your hands."

Robert didn't respond, but continued to stare at the bodies. The sheriff nodded his head, sending Robert's men scurrying to the barn for picks and shovels. "Make sure you dig away from the house. Go behind the barn. Don't want anyone seeing a grave being dug."

The men returned with their equipment. Stealing furtive looks at Robert's icy demeanor, they grabbed the two bodies, dragging them through the dirt, Netty's head with its broken neck bumping forlornly in the dust.

Locating a likely spot, the men hurriedly dug the grave, then tossed the bodies unceremoniously on top of each other. As they all gathered around for a last look, the sheriff took the time to survey the wide range of emotions displayed at the lip of the grave: fear, disgust, wonderment, greed, and, from Robert, finally hatred.

"Cover 'em up, boys." Robert's voice grated with harshness and animus. Turning on his heels, he headed to the horses. Shouting back to the men, he instructed, "Simpson, hitch your horse to that wagon and bring it back to town with you."

"Yeah, boss." Turning back to the grave, Simpson spat, phlegm landing on the back of Netty's now filthy and tangled golden hair. "Okay, let's finish the job." Bending to their task, the only sounds heard were the grunts of the men and the relentless drop of soil as it swiftly and efficiently covered all signs of the tragic pair that lay in the cold unyielding ground, one hand from each having landed as if reaching for the other.

*

She felt as if she were floating, drifting, the void enfolding her in its oddness, giving her refuge. It was a good feeling; a blessed warmth surrounding her. The silence seemed unfamiliar. She was unsettled as she could not determine if she were sleeping or awake. She paused. _How can that be?_ Assessing her body parts, she realized she couldn't feel them. Wiggling her fingers didn't help; she couldn't feel them, either. She gulped, swallowing. _Wait._ She couldn't feel herself swallow. This was a frightening thought, but she didn't _feel_ frightened. A sense of deliberate calm prevailed in her mind. Wow, she was never this calm. _What is going on? Where am I? And why the heck am I so calm?_

She tried to recall her last memory. Something told her not to go there. Alarmed, she pushed through. She wanted to know. But she was clearly being blocked. _Am I alone?_ She absolutely knew she shouldn't be alone. _My Baby,_ _where is my Baby_? Her agitation increased, the calming atmosphere losing its effect on her. She started to panic. The more she panicked, the more she started to remember fragments of her former life, flashing back to her in a nebulous gossamer drizzle. _Former life?_

Her Baby, her raw nerves shrieked soundlessly. _Please, my_ _Baby_. Abruptly, she felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude. G _ratitude?_ Holding on to that sensation for comfort, she greedily reached out to grasp Baby's searching leather hand. She idly wondered why and to whom she should feel this gratitude. She momentously pulled Baby toward her, his golden rainbow eyes all she needed.

And the final reward. _Reward? Where are these thoughts coming from?_ _Oh, praise God! It cannot be_. She felt a strong familiar arm wrap itself around her waist. Tears rolled down her face, even though she oddly couldn't feel them. Her love was here, too. They were together. Everything would be fine. As she reached out in the dark to embrace him, an uncommon glow filled her eyes. Her senses returning, she detected the first scent of sulfur. Then a sound: soft, an omnipotent whisper.

"Yes, my dear, everything will be fine. But you have much to learn. I have much to teach you. And we must prepare for our guests."

_Guests?_ Netty thought frantically, her heart hammering as she tried to see in the dark. _Where is the_ _voice coming from?_

"My dear, please do not struggle, there is no need. You are safe now. Your Baby and Wil are by your side. You are all safe. The life you used to know is your past. All that matters now is your unlimited future. With my minion and Wil at your side, you will become the first Elder. A female Elder. __ My most __ blessed _. My most powerful._ "

"But what of my husband and his men? They will find me."

"You have much to understand, my dear. Your enemies are insignificant and unworthy. They will be dealt with. Time is now forever, but is not meant to be wasted. We must be ready. Even though Baby's mission failed, the results will be the same given more time. If there is to be any saving grace from this colossal failure, we need to begin now."

Netty felt her spirit soar. Her body tingled with anticipation and, could it be hope? She felt Wil relax even as she failed to see him. _Can he hear the voice?_

"I have great faith in you, Netty. Just as you have always had faith in me." And on that note, Netty, Baby and Wil's strange new and heroic life began.

# Chapter 9

A month passed as Robert Doyle prepared to sell off some of the assets of the farm. He considered leasing the cabin with the barn and bakery as he knew the bakery may be a gold mine to the right person. He found himself begrudgingly admiring the success Netty and her lover had made of the farm. Studying the plans for the bakery, he marveled at the expense they had devoted to its construction. He puzzled over the source of their funding, sorely underestimating the profitability of their backbreaking labors.

As he sat at his partners desk in his elaborate library, his eyes rested on his antique gold coin collection, reflecting on his frustration over the missing coin. He'd offered a pretty penny to anyone who located it. No luck, and most of the men were reluctant to return to the farm to hunt for it, knowing the bodies rested there. He idly wondered if any of his men had confiscated the coin for themselves.

_No_ , he dismissed the thought. Any dealer or purchaser of such a coin would be known to him. Not much occurred in his part of the state without his knowledge and approval.

Glancing at his gold watch, he noted the time. Pressing a button, he rang for his housekeeper. She appeared quickly.

"Sit down please, Martha. I want you to call the carriage house. Have Eli bring the sedan to the front door. Tell him I want the boys to follow us in the truck. We have some work to do. I expect to be home shortly before cocktail hour. Miss Kathryn will be joining me this evening and we will take dinner in the solarium. Please have Cook prepare one of her favorite dishes. We will then take coffee and dessert in here. Miss Kathryn's father will join us after dinner. Please have fresh flowers in both rooms, this is a special occasion. If my plans bear out, you may have a new mistress sometime in the near future. I have had my eye on her for some time, although I have been forced to pretend a platonic interest." Laughingly, he added, "Well, that will not be necessary any longer, will it?"

"It sure will be my pleasure, sir." Martha sat taking notes; her plump, unlined black face impassive. Returning her pencil to the upswept gray knot on her head, she asked, "That be all for the day, sir?"

Without answering, Robert dismissed her with an irritated wave of his hand. Picking up the telephone, he listened for party voices. He still didn't understand why he must share his telephone line with the neighbors. It hardly allowed for discretion. Hearing silence, he dialed the number for Sheriff Hudson. His secretary picked up the phone.

"Put him on." Robert waited impatiently.

"What is it, Robert?" Sheriff Hudson's booming voice filled the line, making Robert hold the telephone away from his ear, wincing.

"Just a reminder about our little appointment. The boys and I will be leaving in ten minutes. I should make it to the farm in about an hour and a half. I still do not understand why you need me there. The boys are quite capable of cleaning out the store house and dirt cellars on their own."

"Robert, I cannot go into it on the phone. Just humor me. You need to see this for yourself."

"All right. Do not be late." Hanging up the telephone, Robert wondered at the tone of Sheriff Hudson's voice. An unfamiliar note had put him on alert. It took a lot to rattle Hudson. The last time he'd heard that tone in his voice, they were at the farm taking care of a little unpleasantness that his mind refused to dwell on. An uncontrollable shiver coursed through him. His soft manicured fingers absently picked at the paperwork on his desk. Realizing his mind wanted to dwell on the incident despite his desire, he jumped to his feet and hurried to the front door to await his sedan.

*

Arriving at Lily Pond Road, Eli and Robert pulled into the dusty drive, followed by the well-used pickup truck they utilized for their illicit moonshine deliveries. Spotting Hudson's black Ford, they pulled over and parked. Now that Netty's disappearance no longer raised eyebrows, they no longer needed to sneak in on horses. Both Sheriff Hudson's and Robert's flashy vehicles were easily recognized.

Piling out of the vehicles, the men lumbered toward the barn, casting nervous glances around the grounds. Most of them grumbled under their breath, grousing about the need to return, awaking lurid and macabre memories they had vigorously tried to forget.

"Glad you came. I cannot make any sense of what I found. Maybe you can. Follow me." Hudson led the group to the east side of the cabin. Fully protected from the hot summer sun as it disappeared under the western horizon, they spotted a stout and weathered wooden door built into the ground. Robert frowned in surprise, realizing they had stupidly overlooked what probably contained the results of the late summer harvest. Hudson pulled up the door, letting sunlight expose row after row of Netty's fantastic canned goods. The vibrant colors: red, yellow, green, purple, shone behind the glass of their protective jars as the sun sent glints of solar light back into their faces.

Descending into the cellar, Robert saw rows and rows of magnificent fruit standing neatly in huge rattan baskets. The smells were overwhelming. Organic mustiness mixed with apple, pear and peach. He picked up a firm yellow-white peach, the cool fuzz soothing under his masculine hands. _Yes, hands_. He needed both of them to hold one peach.

"My God, this must weigh four pounds." Robert held it to his nose, the scent overwhelming. Could it be any fresher if he'd just picked it from the tree? "I think my housekeeper could bake three pies from just this one peach. Have you tasted them?"

Hudson nodded. "Sweeter and fresher than anything I have tasted in my life."

"Well, that is certainly curious." Robert looked around, picking up a potato that must weigh a full three pounds. He walked the aisles, spotless and well organized. Hefting every new vegetable as he came to it, he estimated they all appeared to be five to six times their normal weight and size. Biting into an apple, he realized it would take three people to eat it, at least. How Netty had produced results like these baffled them both.

"What about the orchard? Have you checked it out? The trees that support fruit this size must be gargantuan." He looked at Hudson, incredulous. Amazingly, Hudson's stoic stare confirmed his investigation of the orchard. The trees complemented the fruit.

"You are not kidding me, are you?" Robert pensively accepted the unbelievable.

"I reckon Netty and her creature possessed some kind of power. What other explanation can you think of? The popularity of her pies and meat cakes, loved by almost everyone in the town, confirms the unusual qualities of the fruit. What other explanation can there be? Need I remind you how she looked?"

"I do not know what this means, but she did not look anything _like that_ before she swiped my coin and took off."

"Well, what do you want me to tell the boys?" Hudson waited patiently as Robert paced. He detested mysteries. Staring at the cellar's miraculous produce, he finally made up his mind.

"Have the boys load up the truck. Make sure they leave nothing behind. Take what you want for yourself, no sense letting it rot. Put some fruit in my vehicle. Sell the rest." He started up the stairs. As an afterthought, he turned. "Yeah, you better drop off a load for Simpson. He'll bitch like a woman if we leave him out." He continued his climb out of the cellar, the treads of the stairs creaking under his weight. Blinking and squinting in the bright sun, he rudely ignored the men standing expectantly at the opening to the cellar. Turning on his brightly polished boot heels, he strolled to his vehicle.

Watching from the front seat of the sedan, his eyes absently followed the movements of his men, monotonously emptying the root cellar. The truck filled rapidly, the men obviously in a hurry to leave. Something in the back of his mind bothered him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It began to eat at him as he continued to watch the loading. Frustrated, he got out of the car, pacing frantically as he tried to pin down the source of his irritant.

His blood began a slow simmer, his attention focused on an easy target. Netty. She'd done this to him. She'd turned him into a laughing stock with his men. He'd often heard the whispers and crude jokes at the carriage house. He glanced up at them catching a few sneaky peeks in his direction. The fact that Netty had successfully turned this dump into a prosperous economic success burned him even more. He felt like spitting on her grave, the bitch. Shouting to Sheriff Hudson, he motioned for him to join his march to the back of the barn.

"Robert, you do not want to go back there." Hudson ran hard to catch up. "Please, leave it alone. We should get out of here."

Robert threw Hudson a scornful look as he approached the grave. Startled, he froze at the edge. The grave looked caved in _. Son of a bitch_ , _how could that happen?_ His face turned crimson, his fists balled in anger. He slowly breathed in and out, trying to keep a lid on his explosive temper.

"Go get the boys. And some shovels, _now_."

Hudson hurried away, shaking his head as Robert stared down at the impossible.

Moans of reluctance announced the arrival of his men bearing the shovels. They gathered at the edge of the grave, snorts of dismay and shock professing their surprise. The silence grew restless, the baffled men unmistakably spooked.

"This had better not be a joke." Robert's ice pick eyes drilled deeply into those of his men. Not a one uttered a sound, more intimidated by Robert than the meaning of the disturbed grave.

"You, you and you," Robert directed in a glacial voice. "Get down there and start digging. I want all of this dirt removed. All of it." His voice started to leak telltale drips of hysteria. Swallowing, he kneeled at the side of the grave, desperately examining the dirt as it flew from the grave to land nearby. Grasping at straws, his face murderous, he turned to Hudson.

"I trust we do not have a case of grave robbery here. I suppose the freak value of the bodies would be worth a few coins." Venom and suspicion leaked from his clenched teeth.

"Please, Robert, for the last time. Let's go. This place might be cursed."

"Now you sound like an asshole, Hudson. _Just shut the fuck up._ "

Sheriff Hudson's face blanched, looking as if he suddenly realized the snail he'd swallowed was still alive. Snickers could be heard from some of the men, hidden protectively behind strained coughs.

"Hey, boss, can we come back up?" The voice from inside the grave convulsed with panic. Robert leaned over the grave as his men scrambled up, not bothering to wait for a response.

"Ain't nothing down there no more; just a bunch of big holes tunneling to who the hell knows where. Looks like they were still alive." The other men joined a chorus of agreement.

" _Shut up, you idiots_. They were dead. The likelihood they dug tunnels to escape is as likely as the possibility I am going to sprout tits in the next two seconds." Roberts's educated mannerisms vanished. Under pressure and attempting to disguise his mounting fear, he sank to the verbal dirt with the rest of them.

"Give me that." He yanked a shovel from a pair of hands, jumping into the grave himself to investigate. He immediately felt a change in temperature. Astonished at the quick chill, he rolled down the sleeves of his white linen shirt, surveying the tight space. As his men claimed, four holes carved darkness into the walls of the grave. Leaning down, he could feel a slight draft of frigid air, smelling a lot like sulfur. The holes were perfectly round, about two feet wide. The soil at the lip of the holes looked burnt and tightly compacted. As he reached down to dig at the compacted soil, his hand dipped into something soft and gooey. Springing back with a girlish scream, he frantically rubbed the substance on his pants. It dissipated, leaving no trace, not even a moist stain. He drew a hand to his heart, feeling it pummel his chest.

Breathing deeply, he steadied his pulse before mustering the courage to peer into the holes again. Adjusting his eyes to the darkness, he located the gooey substance. It encompassed the entire circumference of the hole. The thick and viscous substance appeared to undulate. _Ugh_. _Is it alive?_ Without warning, the substance contracted and withdrew into the hole like an arm being pulled through a sleeve. He lost his balance, falling on his butt in the dirt. He sat stunned. _What the fuck did I just see?_ As his wits returned, he started to grasp the vulnerability of his precious butt. He currently sat at the bottom of a grave previously occupied by his murdered freak of a wife and her similarly dispatched nightmare of a pet. Scrambling, he stood, heedless of the cold soil still clinging to his normally impeccable attire.

"Give me a hand, for Pete's sake." Extending his arm, they hoisted him up out of the empty grave.

"What did you see down there, Robert? We heard you scream." Sheriff Hudson brushed at the soil clinging to Robert's pants.

"Do you mind?" He slapped Hudson aside, his natural annoyance masking his reaction to the frightening discovery. "I saw nothing. The bodies are gone because one of you bastards stole them." Deflecting from his own cowardly behavior, he went on the offense. He fixed them with one of his famous ill-tempered scowls. "I had better not hear about this again. _From anyone. Is that understood?_ " He watched as his macho thugs nodded slowly, confusion and fear unwilling companions. Satisfied, he wasted no more time. Pointing, he ordered, "I want this grave filled in, then get the sedan and let's get the hell out of here. Eli, Hudson, let's go." Turning his back on everyone, he almost ran to the sedan, vowing to himself never to come near the farm again.

The ride back to town took forever, the three men clearly burdened with individual thoughts regarding the mysteries of the produce and the empty grave. They left Hudson at his office with nary a word. Ten minutes from home, Robert turned to Eli.

"I want you to take the whole crew and any equipment necessary back to the farm, this weekend. Cut down every tree in the orchard, down to the roots. Then burn them; every last one. Burn any berry bushes you find." His expression impassive, he turned to Eli. "And burn the cabin while you're at it."

"I got it boss, but the orchard? We might be able to make some good bucks off that fruit. And the seeds could be really valuable if they matched the results she got. We could get a fancy penny for the new bakery if you throw in the orchard." Eli's homely mug revealed a spark of intelligence previously overlooked by Robert. Impressed, he strove to take a gentle tone. He clapped Eli softly on his mule-like shoulder.

"Seeds, you say? Hmmm, how mindless of me. Search the outbuildings until you discover where her seeds are stored. _And burn_ _them._ I want all evidence obliterated. When the job is complete, you may join me in the library for a brandy while you make your report. You do understand, don't you, that we will never speak of my departed wife and her devilry again?"

"Yeah, boss. I get it." As Eli turned into the gravel drive of Sunnydale, Robert admired the solid comfort and confidence of the magnificent mansion. As ostentatious as some may think it, his home represented the security and normal, quantifiable sanity of his life. Tipping the back of his hand to Eli as the sedan departed for the carriage house, he stepped into his elegant foyer. Its Waterford crystal chandelier swayed amiably, another welcoming affectation of his privileged life. As if a switch had been flicked, he felt transformed. Smug pleasure strengthened his posture as he loudly called out to Martha, announcing his return and depositing all memory of his late wife's, shall we call them, _peculiarities?_ into the callous dustbin of his brain.

*

Eli wiped the back of his chalky lips with a sweaty paw. He was dog tired and as thirsty as a squalling babe searching for its mother's swollen tit. His muscular frame ached from the exertion of the last two days, but they'd actually completed the job on schedule. Of course, hiring a dozen extra hands had helped. He surveyed the field, the waste was pitiful. His men, spent and hungry, hurried to light the bonfires. He planned to let them burn down by nightfall when they'd become more noticeable. He didn't think the boss would appreciate it if the adjoining farmers came poking around his business.

He blew his nose into his hand, slinging it to the ground as he remembered his orders to locate and burn the seed supply. Absently wiping his hand on the back of his canvas work pants, he ambled down the road and up the hill to the barn. He stood under the very wooden support used to hang Netty as he stood wearily looking around the cool interior. The sweet aroma of cow manure, fresh hay and dried horse sweat still permeated the empty barn. No way did they use the barn to store the large quantities of seed he'd expected to find. Not enough room.

Turning away, he hawked dryly on to the ground, berating his rotten luck. Now he would have to tramp behind the cabin to the distant outbuilding near the bakery that he suspected held the seeds _. Sheeit_. Having spotted a few rattlesnakes in the stone wall along the orchard, he knew the field might harbor a few late lurkers as they lay ready to ambush unsuspecting field mice.

Sighing out loud, he shook his head and picked up the jar of petrol he planned to use, simplifying the ignition of the fire. _Okay, let's go break that bitch,_ he groused to himself, pathetically trying to gin up some energy for the trek.

It didn't take long to cross the deserted field. The hot sun, now low in the western sky, failed to reach the eastern part of the field behind the cabin, making the large but almost windowless shed appear foreboding and gloomy.

Spotting a fallen tree branch, he fashioned a torch out of dried grasses held together by his pocket handkerchief, which he'd soaked in petrol. Admiring his cleverness, he pulled out a book of matches and lit the torch, grateful for the bright light. Holding the torch high, he pulled the stubborn door wide, juggling his torch and the jar of petrol.

Scanning the storage space, he spotted enormous black earthen jugs near the only window in the place, its panes filthy and useless. The jugs lay on their side in disarray. Curious, he made his way to the window, kicking aimlessly at the jugs, all of them empty. Husks crunched underfoot as he realized someone had beaten him to the seeds. As his torch cast suggestive shadows on the walls, lovers entwined in macabre antics, he considered his next move. Distracted, he felt the shadows mock him as he pondered a plausible story for the boss.

Deciding to retreat back to the field, he turned to go, spotting a large dark round hole in the corner of the shed. _Was that movement?_ Eli leaned over, holding his torch high, the jar of petrol safely clutched tightly to his chest. Peering into the corner along the floor, he failed to spot anything. His eyes lifted off the floor to study the hole. It looked familiar. His neck prickled with a persistent feeling of surveillance.

He slowly started to back up, telling himself he needed to get out of there anyway. Turning, his eyes swept up to the ceiling; the sight stopping his heart in mid beat. The thick fibrous and glistening _thing_ hung in the air like a slobbering viper preparing to strike. He froze. As his brain registered the fact that the _thing_ projected from the round hole, he remembered where he'd last seen identical holes. His bowels loosened, soiling his work pants. As the stench filled the shed, he thanked God for the torch.

The _thing_ appeared to study the fire as it hung in the air over his head.

"That's right, you freaky mother fucker. Don't like the fire, do ya?" His courage elevated a notch as he continued his retreat, clutching the torch higher. The torch suddenly threw off a spark, and the _thing_ jerked back, causing Eli to jerk reflexively. Off balance, he dropped the torch. In his backward panic, he stumbled, losing his grip on the petrol jar, sending it crashing to the floor to explode on the still flaming torch. As fire rushed to the petrol, liberally splashed prodigiously on his soiled pants, his eyes barely registered the _thing_ withdraw into the dark hole. Then the fire quickly swallowed his eyelids and he saw no more.

*

Robert slowly replaced the telephone receiver. He felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach; shock and disbelief leaving his hands shaking. He picked up the telephone, its weight suddenly ponderous as he dialed the number.

"Let me speak to him, Hilda." He waited for Sheriff Hudson to pick up.

"Hello, Robert. I guess you heard."

"Have you been to the site yet?"

"I am going out there now. I will let you know what I find."

"You had better let me know everything. I am not paying you to hold back information." Robert's voice gave an embarrassing crack.

"What are you worried about, Robert? Think the place is cursed?"

Robert wondered at the undercurrent of bitter amusement in Hudson's voice. Deciding to let it pass, attributing it to the shock of Eli's death, he barked an abrupt goodbye and hung up.

# Chapter 10

Sheriff Hudson hung up the telephone after talking to Robert Doyle. Even though the guy was a sanctimonious shit and an evil one at that, he still called the shots. He certainly didn't plan to hold back any information of the disturbing kind, if he found any. No way. Why miss out on an opportunity to personally cause a worthless piece of dog crap some discomfort? He sensed Robert's growing concern over the events at Netty's farm. If you call festering anger and misplaced righteous indignation, _concern._

Hudson leaned back in the swivel oak desk chair in his office at the station. Hearing the familiar squeak of the springs gave him a reminder of the perpetual admonishment that always accompanied his shame and guilt when he thought of the money he took from Robert to _look the other way._ In for a penny, in for a pound; the longer he took the money, the deeper he sank, until he found covering up murder commonplace.

He'd never understood why Robert had felt the need to rape and murder his mother-in-law when paying a trumped-up social call at the farm. He'd never offered a reason or an apology. Together, they'd concocted the lone gypsy story for public consumption.

The cover stories had become more and more facile as the murders increased. A few farm girls deflowered once Robert and Eli had finished with them, a missing competitor giving rise to a new business opportunity for Robert, and Netty's own death, along with the unfortunate creature she'd kept as a pet that had made the mistake of catching Eli's sadistic eye. And those were just the murders he _knew_ about.

He glanced up at the photograph of his family. His wife, Marne, smiled back at him with the same look he'd fallen in love with over thirty five years ago. His eyes paused as they took inventory of his three healthy children, two now grown with young children of their own. He loved them all; even as his heart ached over the exclusion in the photo of his first born, Emily.

Only he and Marne now knew of her existence, his parents and in-laws long passed away. The tears and wrenched guts never stopped, even long after they'd accepted the necessity of putting Em into a caring home which could give her the professional help her condition required. The move to Newtown to take the available position of sheriff followed soon after her placement.

Em thrived at the home, yet had never achieved more than the skills of a five year old. Only the fact that she enjoyed impeccable care in a homey loving atmosphere made the separation bearable. Once a month, Marne packed their bags and off they went to visit Em, six hours away in upstate New York, to spend whatever remained of the weekend with their girl. She would always be their baby, even as she now approached her thirty-first birthday.

They'd made the decision to keep her existence a secret because of the judgmental stigma they thought their other children might be saddled with. Yet it had taken the intervention of Robert Doyle, like the snake in the Garden of Eden, to enable them to pay Em's bills and actually try to have more children. In the beginning he'd asked himself, _Why not? Everyone did it in one form or another_.

He snorted bitterly as he judged himself harshly. What a stupid greedy ass he'd been. Marne didn't know, of course. He'd never be able to face her if she found out. She called him her hero, and his kids thought their father epitomized a good moral man. Little did they know the extent of his mushy clay feet. He'd lost all respect for himself long ago.

Hudson fingered the metal of his sheriff's badge, worn proudly on his shirt; a pathetic disgrace. He reached up, running his blunt fingers through his thick white hair, still amazingly intact, worrying it until most of the hair stood on end.

He just wasn't sure how much more he could take from Robert Doyle. His neurosis over safely detaching from Robert's malignant clutches completely subordinated the ominous implications of the discoveries made at the farm; the strange and weird parts of Netty's body, her unusual pet and the extraordinary magnificence of her crops.

He tucked the lurking questions away as he prepared to drive to the farm with his deputies to collect the body and start the investigation.

*

Sheriff Hudson stood in the field behind the cabin as his deputies poked through the wreckage of the shed where Eli's body rested. He held a handkerchief to his nose, a futile effort to block the smell of wet cinder and cooked meat. He ordered Eli's charred corpse remanded to the meat wagon for further examination by the county coroner.

While poking through the paltry carcass of the ruined building, they discovered a round hole in the ground where the outside wall used to stand. With the exception of the charring and it's smaller size, the hole appeared to be a dead ringer to those found in Netty's grave; an unlikely coincidence. Hudson wondered what Eli had found interesting enough to brave walking through a field of rattlesnakes. They had spotted two eastern diamondbacks sunning themselves on rocks as soon as they entered the field.

_And what about the hole? Jesus H. Christ_ , _are you kidding me? Something mighty weird and damn serious is going on here_. Hitching his pant legs up over his boots, he trudged through the smelly debris to re-examine the hole. Squatting down, he felt the hard burnt edge, wondering what would cause plain ordinary dirt to look as if it had been burned; and only on the edges. He didn't think it had occurred from the fire in the building. The burn was too regular, not natural.

Remembering the holes in Netty's grave, he slid his hand into the hole, rubbing the sides of the wall, feeling wet glopiness. Quickly extracting his hand, he wiped the residue on his handkerchief, carefully rolling the sample and placing it safely in his pocket to send to the laboratory. If he used Robert's name, he could probably get the results back in a week. Not that he expected to find anything worthwhile.

Kicking his feet aimlessly through the rubble, he meandered away from the shed's remains, making his way carefully through the field to his police car. Sliding behind the wheel, he rested his head on the back of the seat, his eyes closed. He felt a shudder of weariness snake through his body. Elusive sleep was playing a mean game of catch-me-if-you-can, tormenting him relentlessly since the murders. He rubbed his tired eyes, enjoying the sensation while refusing to let his mind give credence to the coincidence of the holes. As he started the patrol car, he felt a rumble in his stomach. Not knowing if he wanted to vomit or defecate he pushed the thoughts of horror from his mind and headed to town.

*

"I have Roger on the line, Sheriff." His secretary stood at his door to deliver the message, her interest in the call ill-concealed, as usual.

"Okay, Hilda, I got it." Picking up the telephone, he heard Hilda softly pick up the extension. No time for delicacy.

"Hilda, can you please give me a little privacy?" Hudson winced as he heard Hilda give an offended "harrumph." But she got off the line.

"Hey, Roger, thanks for getting back to me so fast. Mr. Doyle will be sure to show his appreciation."

"No need, Sheriff Hudson, always happy to help out Mr. Doyle. If he needs anything else, you be sure to let me know, you hear?" Roger's voice oozed so much ass-kissing, Hudson swore his own butt tingled.

"Yes, of course, Roger, now how about those results?"

"Well, Sheriff, that's another matter. I think you need to come to the laboratory. I don't think we should discuss this over the phone."

Impatience crept into Hudson's voice as he informed Roger he had no intention of driving four hours to New York City and then another four hours back to Newtown for some stupid laboratory results. Hudson took a breath, forcing himself to calm down as his voice developed a shrill tone.

"Well now, Sheriff, no need to get all riled up. I am just trying to be discreet, for Mr. Doyle's sake, of course."

Hudson slapped his forehead, his frustration doing a slow simmer. "Roger, can you please just give me the results? Paleeease?"

"Okay, Sheriff Hudson, if you insist. Don't forget to tell Mr. Doyle about my concern for discretion." Hudson rolled his eyes, closing them painfully, wondering when this would end.

"The substance you sent me is organic. I found a system of three types of cells in what I can only conclude is a type of plasma. But there seems to be an absence of white cells. You cannot survive without white blood cells. They fight infection in anything alive. And I am unable to identify the three types of cells present. They do not exist in any species on this planet, yet they are definitely organic. Yes, yes, an organic life form of some type, all very confounding, but not the _most_ amazing discovery. By the way, did you see the creature that provided the sample?"

Ignoring the question, Hudson's attention perked up measurably. "Roger. What exactly did you find?"

Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Roger continued, " _It had bugs._ " Roger said it as if he'd just uncovered the Holy Grail, his breath resounding loudly through the wires.

"What do you mean, bugs? That's no big deal."

"On the contrary, Sheriff, the bugs were no ordinary bug. They looked like tiny red polliwogs. You know, before they turn into frogs? They are, or I should correctly say _were_ , complete organisms, that actually propelled themselves in the plasma."

"Roger, could you make this more to the point? What do you mean _were_?"

"As I said, they propelled themselves. Yes, yes! Right out of my office. They are gone, all of them. They rose up from the sample under the microscope, attracting each other like a magnet, and then went flying out my open window. They appeared to swell as they converged, I don't understand why. They were almost microscopic, how could they enlarge like that? When I re-examined the sample, the only thing left was a smeary residue."

Hudson didn't know what to think. He felt calm yet his heart thumped wildly. What the heck did all this mean?

"Sheriff, are you there?"

"Yes, Roger. Thanks for your help." Hudson prepared to hang up, ignoring the last of Roger's words.

"The creature, Sheriff; what about the creature? Did you—?"

Silence descended as Hudson replaced the telephone, Roger completely forgotten.

He sat at his worn desk trying to make sense of recent events. Two missing bodies, Eli's mysterious death by fire, sinister holes at both scenes and now the baffling, yet ominous, laboratory results. The time had come to inform Robert. He wondered if he could get away with a phone call instead of a command performance. Drumming his fingers restlessly on his desk, he made an easy decision.

With the telephone in hand, he dialed Robert's number, hoping the party line was clear. He wanted to get this over with. Thankfully, Robert picked up. Updating him on the investigation didn't take long. The news about the laboratory results produced an unexpected reaction.

"Did I tell you to mess around with that hole? And what makes you think they are related? Big deal. I do not want to hear any more about Netty, her infernal pet and their tails or these damnable holes _. Do you_ _understand me?_ "

"Robert, you need to calm down and listen to me."

"I don't think I heard you correctly, Hudson. Are you trying to tell me how to behave?"

The sheriff felt the ice in Robert's voice seep its pernicious fingers right to his stomach. He needed to tread carefully. "Robert, I understand you just fine. Let me check one more thing. Remember Netty's young drifter?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Losing his temper, Hudson let Robert have it. "I know exactly what you did to that innocent kid, Robert. You didn't have to do it like that, just to get him out of the way. You had other options. You always take the easy way out. Do you think I don't know _everything_ that happens in the jail? Or exactly who is on your payroll?"

"Well now, Hudson, looks like you have a bee in your bonnet so why don't you just spill what is on your mind." Robert's demeanor changed so quickly, Hudson's radar went on high alert.

"We can settle the question of coincidence if we check the grave where you buried the kid." Silence greeted the proposal. "Robert? Where is he buried?" Silence. " _Robert_."

"All right, Hudson. You can check the grave. But you better prepare for some irregularities," Robert sounded off. Where were the confidently arrogant intonations of the old Robert? Something was up, for sure.

"Why don't you fill me in, Robert? The whole story, please."

"Yes, I did have him taken care of in the jail. When the boys came to collect the body, it had already been sent to the coroner's office. He was just a no account drifter, no family. They assumed Potter's Field would be fine for burial."

"Robert, why don't you tell me about the body?"

"Err, yes, the irregularities. It seems the drifter exhibited some of the same strange affectations we found on my unfortunate deceased wife."

"Affectations, that's what you call them? Are we going to continue to dance around this or are we going to start calling a spade a spade? What is it going to be, Robert?" For some reason, prying information out of Robert was like trying to convince a high school virgin to give it away to the school misfit.

" _Alright._ He had a tail. And something was wrong with his blood. It was all over the cell floor and it glowed. It was not red. We discovered something else during the prep for burial. It seems he was growing wings."

"What do you mean, wings? As in to fly? Those kind of wings?"

"Yes." The word came across the telephone wire as a fearful whisper.

Hudson held the telephone to his ear, not doubting what he'd heard, just astonished. It wasn't information that he'd expected. His stomach began to grumble again. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

"I need to look at the grave. You know it must be done. Tell me the location so I can figure out what is going on."

"What do you mean, what is going on? There is _nothing_ going on."

"Robert, do not give me that. Are you blind? You think Eli's death was an accident? Well, it wasn't. He was not alone in that shed. Now, get me the location so we can deal with this."

"All right, I will get back to you. But do not even think about sharing this information with anyone without my permission or I will have your ass." The old Robert, clearly back in control.

# Chapter 11

Sheriff Hudson cautiously eased the police car to the curb in front of the two-story colonial that sat next to his target house. He looked carefully at the target, seeing no one in the neat green yard that led to the cheery white ranch-style home with vibrant flowering window boxes.

Emerging quietly from the patrol car, he held one hand behind his back, the contents hidden. Crouching, he quickly sidled up to the door of the house, finding it unlatched. Peering into the small window in the door, he decided the coast was clear. He slid his big body inside the house, softly closing the door with a loud click. He held his breath, praying the sound didn't carry to the other rooms. He heard the clink of dishes from the kitchen. He would launch his attack from there.

He saw her at the kitchen sink, her back to him. He knew she would squirm like a hungry pussycat if he could get her underneath him. He licked his lips as the nape of her neck inflamed him.

Slowly, silently, he crept closer, his hidden hand coming forward as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, forcing her to face him as his lips descended on to hers; demanding a kiss from the most beautiful woman in his world.

"Ummm, what a surprise. Are these for me?"

"None other, my love." He held out the bouquet of bright multi-colored roses; always her favorite. He looked at Marne's aging face, her smile still wide and bright; every line familiar and safe, and loved. When she looked at him, really looked, and smiled that smile, his heart flipped just the way it had when he fell in love with her so long ago.

"I have the bags all packed. I thought we would eat a quick dinner before we go. It's a long drive." Marne moved from between his arms to hunt for a vase for her flowers. Finishing with the flowers, she whirled to face him.

"I love my roses. You sure do know my soft spot. But hon, would you mind?" Her face radiated a mixture of sweet apology and maternal love. He knew what was coming.

"Can we bring the flowers with us? For Em? She will love the colors." Hudson looked at his wife, tears coming to his eyes.

"Of course, my love, you're right. She will love them." And with that, she stepped back into his loving arms.

*

As Hudson drove into Em's town with Marne and the roses at his side it was early morning, the overcast sky not yet willing to yield to the demands of the rising sun. They had driven up the night before, staying at a comfortable nearby inn so they could get an early start, wanting to spend as much time with Em as possible before they had to turn around and go home.

Turning into the road to the modest brick group home, they were surprised by fire trucks and police cars with their flashing lights. Parking the car, they hurried into the reception area, encountering Mrs. Post, the housemother.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, I did not expect you so soon."

"Good morning, Mrs. Post. Why are the authorities here?" Sheriff Hudson's tone reflected a passing interest, sure the incident was minor.

"Well, er, perhaps you might join me in my office. I shall ring for the nurse. She will have Emily join us there." Hudson and his wife exchanged startled glances.

"Wait a minute. What is going on? Did something happen to Em?" Marne gripped Hudson's arm tightly, the roses threatening to slip from her hand.

"Please, Mrs. Hudson. Relax. Emily just had a nightmare. Come. We can talk in my office." Visibly relieved, the Hudsons allowed themselves to be ushered into the housemother's cramped office. Settling Marne into an upholstered armchair, Hudson stood behind his wife. Mrs. Post sat at her desk with her hands clasped, her tone sympathetic.

"Last night, Emily woke up screaming. She seemed to be in the grip of hysteria. Calming her down took hours. She refused to sleep in her bed, forcing me to take her to my room where I made space for her in my bed. I hope that you do not find that presumptuous."

"No, no, of course not. Did she say anything about the nightmare?" Marne's concerned voice was laced with confusion.

"Emily actually does not admit to a nightmare, Mrs. Hudson. We just assumed her story arose as a result of a nightmare."

Hudson raised his hand as if to cut off Mrs. Post. "Please tell us exactly what my daughter said." His unexpectedly hoarse voice drew startled glances from both Marne and Mrs. Post.

"Of course, sir." Mrs. Post continued in hurt tones. "Emily's story centered around the claim that a monster wanted to get in her window. She insisted she was not asleep. She said the monster stared at her and took a few swipes at the window before her screams woke us. When we entered the room, we did notice some gunky slop on the window, probably from a large bird smashing itself on the pane. The fact that she is on the second floor convinced us it had been a nightmare."

"Why are the police and the fire department here?"

"That is another matter entirely. This morning, I happened to inspect the back yard, just looking for anything unusual in view of Emily's nightmare. Oddly enough, underneath her window, I found a hole in the ground. It had not been there the day before. The smell of sulfur seemed to rise from the hole. I dropped a pencil into it and could not hear it land. So I called the police. They called the fire department because of the safety issue."

Mrs. Post abruptly rose to her feet. She stared at Hudson, mouth agape. "Sir, are you okay?" Hudson's legs had failed him, forcing him to grab on to the back of Marne's chair.

"Get my daughter in here, _now_." Turning to Marne, who sat with a shocked look on her face, he demanded, "Go pack her clothes; she is coming home with us."

"Honey, what's wrong? You are scaring us."

He put a tired hand on her shoulder. Attempting to force a lighter tone, he let his words silence their questions. "Marne, we will discuss this later. Please pack Em's clothes quickly. We will send for anything else. I want to be out of here in the next twenty minutes."

"Mr. Hudson, this is quite irregular."

"I am sure it is, Mrs. Post. I am sure it is."

*

All the way back home to Newtown, Marne's questioning pensive eyes weighed him down. She knew they couldn't speak of the matter in front of Em, and would bide her time until they got home. He'd better have a good explanation for her. At the moment, he didn't. God knew, he couldn't tell her the truth.

So he withdrew into himself for the entire six-hour drive. Marne sang nursery rhymes to their thirty-one-year-old daughter as she played in the back seat with her favorite doll.

*

"But why do you have to go now? Can it not wait until Monday? And you still have not explained this mad decision to bring Em home with us." Marne looked like she was holding tightly to the very last lock on her temper, her patience beyond exhausted.

Hudson closed the door to his closet, his sheriff's jacket in his hands. He sat on the bed next to his wife, putting his arm around her. "Baby, do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course. Why would I not trust you, Hud? Please tell me what is going on. And what does it have to do with Em?"

"Honey, I think it is time to bring Em home and introduce her to the rest of the family. I want you to call the kids and invite them over to Sunday dinner. We need to do this now." He looked into eyes flickering with trust, love, confusion, and was that a hint of fear? It broke his heart to do this to her, but he knew no other way out. He just needed to check one more thing before he made up his mind. He rose to his feet, pulling Marne up with him.

"I love you more than my own life. Do you know that, Marne?"

"Yes, Hud. I knew that the day I married you."

"Is Em still sleeping?"

"Yes, Hud."

"Promise me you will not let her out of your sight."

She nodded her head, the questions still in her lovely eyes. He took a finger and traced the curve of her lips, caressing the side of her face as he bent down for a final kiss. Lifting his jacket from the bed, he turned and left the room.

*

Sheriff Hudson stood in the cool graveyard, pulling the collar of his jacket tight to ward off the bite of the northern wind that claimed the graveyard as its own. He clutched a piece of paper in his hands; directions to Netty's lover's grave. The poor kid, so needless. He made his way down the rows of unmarked graves, wondering where the boy's family lived and if they'd given up on his return home. Funny, he didn't even know the young man's name.

He followed the directions that led him to a dip in the topography of the graveyard, creating a shallow crater that sheltered him from sight. Not that he had any company, except for the unclaimed forlorn bones of the indigent, nestled in their ignoble final roost.

Hudson counted carefully, following the directions to the correct grave. But he needn't have bothered. He only needed to search for the grave that looked as if a bomb had exploded from the inside. Like the one in front of him. Compressing his lips until they turned white, he leaned over the edge of Netty's young lover's grave, finding it empty; just as he'd expected. Bad time to be right; a very bad time.

Hudson knew he didn't have to bother to look for the expected holes at the bottom of the grave. His nose clearly detected the faint trace of sulfur which he knew emanated from them. Just like the holes beneath the window of his daughter's bedroom. Mrs. Post had fortunately interrupted the monster before it could abduct Emily. Or kill her for the same reason it had killed Eli. _Revenge._ Now the monster appeared to be extending its quest to his family. Why? There must be an unfathomable connection between the monster and Netty's unorthodox family. If the monster just wanted to kill him, opportunities presented themselves every day. Why go after Em?

Hudson suddenly fell to his knees, a germ of a thought, previously relegated to the recesses of his consciousness, arose mightily to claim its rightful place as the only true answer to his impossible question. It wasn't just revenge. It was _vengeance_. It wanted him to suffer before it killed him. The monster could think and reason. It had a plan. It wanted him to feel pain and loss; just as they'd caused it to feel the pain and loss of Netty, her lover and the unusual creature brutally and callously murdered by Eli. Was that it? _Oh, my God!_ Hudson rocked back and forth on his heels as the realization of the danger he'd put his family in hit home. The monster wanted him to suffer by killing _his_ family.

A tear escaped a brimming eye as he arose, a resolute solution filling him with regret and sadness. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and started the trek back to his patrol car. One quick stop at his office and he could put an end to the threat to his family.

*

Sheriff Hudson hurriedly finished the letter to Marne, slipped it into an envelope and held it to his heart. He took a last look around his office, then stepped out to Hilda's desk.

"Hilda, I need you to do me a favor. This needs to stay between us, do you understand?"

Hilda looked blankly at the sheriff. "Of course, Hud, what do you need me to do?"

"I want you to take this letter and give it to my wife."

"Your wife? Don't you want to give it to Marne yourself?"

Sheriff Hudson placed a shaky hand on Hilda's shoulder. "Hilda, I am asking you for a favor that must stay between us. You must promise me. No one else can know."

Hilda frowned, looking searchingly into Hudson's face. She apparently read something in his expression which told her he meant business.

"Sure, Hud, I will be happy to do this for you." She took the envelope, placing it in her purse under her desk as Hudson watched. Turning back to his office, he slowly headed for his desk and closed the door behind him.

He sat down in his worn desk chair, took a deep trembling breath, focused on the photo of his Marne, took out his service revolver, held it to his temple, and pulled the trigger.

# Epilogue

Life moved on for all involved in the strange covert murders on Lily Pond Road. Robert's men found their lives initially taking a huge turn in prosperity as he paid handsomely for the silence of his henchmen.

The loss of Eli unexpectedly grieved Robert. The fact that Robert was his employer failed to diminish the rousing camaraderie and confidence they'd shared when executing Robert's despicable and illegal deeds for well over two decades.

He refused to return to Lily Pond Road after his men had reported the fire and Eli's death. A simple telephone call to Sheriff Hudson had directed the matter to his capable hands. Unfortunately, the disturbing results of Hudson's report had terrified him. Putting Netty behind him no longer appeared to be the effortless proposition he'd first anticipated.

The sheriff's death had shocked the entire tri-county area. The day after Robert had relayed directions to the drifter's grave, Sheriff Hudson had returned to his office and blown his brains out with a single shot from his service revolver. He'd left an adored wife, three adult children and two grandbabies. Robert heard unsubstantiated rumors that he'd left his wife a suicide letter with some sort of purported explanation that allowed her to carry on with her head held high, unlike the wife of a man who'd taken the coward's way out.

He would have put a lot of money on a bet that Hudson hadn't had a cowardly bone in his body. _So why the suicide?_ And unaccountably, his entire family, including his adult children and their families, had left town for parts unknown after the funeral. _Why the rush? What were they running from?_

*

A public burial held at the local cemetery had put Eli's body to rest. Quelling the rise of local gossip, Robert had concocted a simple cover story involving a fall and a fatal rattlesnake bite; hardly original, tediously routine. Not much different than the story circulated to explain Netty's death. Accidents happened every day. People died every day; sad, but unremarkable.

Robert sat in front of the fire in his library, contemplating his future. The emptiness in his life, exacerbated by the loss of Eli, continued to disturb him. The accumulation of wealth no longer interested him. Irrevocably securing his fortune and influence far beyond his dreams, he saluted the plan hatched fifteen years ago when he'd discovered that Netty would become heir to half of the vast Woods' fortune.

He paused to consider how easily the gullible Woods had swallowed Robert's suddenly smitten sensibilities enough to marry a common country waif. Smiling, he remembered how he'd found a few kicks to amuse himself with after the wedding, although her unfortunate broken nose and subsequent hair loss robbed him of his interest in forcing her to submit. _Time to move on. Let me see, what else?_ Ticking them off in his head he continued the auspicious list.

His pursuits on the bench no longer interested him. The petty legal problems of the pedestrian public wore him down. Prohibition had soon gone down the tubes. Not that he needed the money, but dabbling with thugs late at night had given him a worthwhile thrill.

He'd even found himself bored with his _special_ evenings, the brutality of rape no longer seen as powerful and exciting, now merely churlish and unrefined.

Tapping his finger along the side of his imperial nose, a solution occurred to him; a concept that needed a little feedback. Rising from the sofa, he stuck his head out of the library door into the foyer.

" _Martha, get in here,_ _please_." An intriguing expression settled comfortably on his haughty features. Crossing to the burled walnut sideboard, he poured brandy into tiny crystal snifters.

"Yes sir?" Martha stood at the library door, the bun on her head unwinding from the heat and labors of her bustling day, her apron wrinkled and stained. Robert grimaced, eyeing the apron.

"Put your apron in the hallway won't you, Martha?" She regarded him with a blank look in her eyes. "The apron, the apron." He waggled his fingers at her, the gesture dismissive. She quickly removed her apron, returning from the hall to stand before him.

"Yes, yes, much better. Please sit down, Martha, I have an announcement." Handing her a snifter, he directed her to the sofa at the fireplace. He took his customary seat at the other end. Martha sat, eyeing the snifter, looking as natural as a defecating woodpecker in her hand. Oblivious, Robert chattered on.

"I have definitely decided to marry Miss Kathryn. I have yet to ask her, of course. But I do not anticipate a problem. It is high time we fill this house with children. As you will agree, she is quite suitable. Drink up, my dear." He again waggled his fingers at her. "Please arrange time, beginning next week, to sit with her to plan the arrangements. Give her anything she asks for. The wedding will be held here, of course." He glanced at Martha, still frozen with the snifter in her hand. "Martha, if you are to be my new major domo, you must learn to relax. Now drink up." Blinking slowly, he watched her raise an eyebrow and bring the snifter to her lips as he continued to happily rattle on about his extravagant wedding and the new direction their lives would take.

*

The years evaporated quickly. Robert and Kathryn, the toast of Norristown's exclusive social whirl, found branching into New York City society presented many intriguing opportunities. Over the years, he'd converted his vast fortune into the banking business, burnishing his now impeccable reputation. No one ever condescended to peek under the veneer of genteel hospitality to the worm holes and rot in the foundation of his wealth and soul. Not even his wife, Kathryn.

As the joyful celebration of Robert's seventy-third birthday passed, he showed tentative signs of waning strength. He no longer cared to attend the season's social calendar, choosing to closet himself in his library to pass the day.

Kathryn proved to be a loving fertile wife, blessing Robert with five children. Their firstborn son, Garrett, hard at work polishing the chrome of their 1956 Cadillac Convertible, planned to drive the family to Summit. Robert and Kathryn's eldest daughter, Judith, having married at seventeen, needed to return to her home with her baby after enjoying a short visit with the family.

Riotous laughter emanated from the car as they piled in. Robert fondly waved goodbye to his wife and five children from the wide, columned front porch, declining as usual to accompany them. Even though he adored his family, the fact that Judith's husband, Edwin, planned a surprise unveiling of their new home didn't tempt him to join the party.

Robert returned to the sanctity of the library, ringing for Alice to bring him his specially blended licorice tea. Martha, having failed to achieve a modicum of the confidence he used to share with Eli, had retired shortly after Garrett's birth. Perhaps she'd sensed his disappointment in her.

As he awaited his tea, his mind catalogued the many highs of the last two decades since he'd reformed his life and married Kathryn. The list was prodigious. The highlights truly culminated with the birth of Garrett, his favorite son and heir. The boy, almost a copy of Robert at his age, showed promise as a financial wizard, an asset in the banking empire he planned to leave to him.

The only bedbug in the mattress centered around the mysterious deaths, purely a coincidence of course, of most of the men involved in the cover up on Lily Pond Road. Robert had decided twenty years ago to edit the name of his first wife from his memory. He'd even convinced himself that the two thousand acres he'd stolen from her had passed to him legally. Unfortunately, his persistent dreams and sweats had proved to be uncontrollable, refusing to allow him a single untroubled night's sleep.

Eli and Hudson's deaths had only been the beginning. Subsequent deaths befell three more of his men, another shocker. The only thing left of the men he'd sent to the train station to pick up some freight had been their skeletons. No clothes, no blood; just a macabre triangle of desiccated bones lying in the dirt. And, heaping insult on injury, no witnesses. _Son of a bitch_.

"Your tea, sir." Alice placed a silver tray with a filigree teapot and one fine bone china tea cup on to his partners desk.

"Pour for me, won't you, young lady?" The fifty-six-year-old housemaid poured his tea and returned to her duties, leaving him to savor the ambrosial fragrance in seclusion. Ah, yes, small pleasures. He sipped the sweet tea slowly, his face suffused with blood, warmed by the steam of the tea. His thoughts returned to the cause of his woefully inadequate sleep.

The most disturbing death belonged to that of Simpson and his wife. They had regularly worked late in their shop two nights a week with the help of a young female employee. Their bodies had been found behind the butcher's shop near the garbage receptacle. They protruded from a perfectly round hole in the ground which had opened to a small tunnel that had collapsed around the bodies. The coroner's report blamed heart failure, for both of them. When asked, their hysterical employee had claimed she ' _never heard_ _nothin'._

Robert's blood froze in his veins every time he thought about the mysterious holes. He wondered why he remained alive. How long could one withstand relentless stress and sleeplessness? Perhaps his refusal to leave the house protected him. The commonality of the deaths (they had all occurred outside) suggested that he probably remained safe as long as he stayed inside. He could not know for sure, but eleven years had passed since the last death.

Discovering his teapot empty, he rang for Alice, requesting a refill and directing her to serve his dinner.

As he waited for the tea, he happened to glance in the direction of the French doors that led out to the terrace and his glorious emerald lawn. The same French doors Netty had fled through after first stealing his gold coin. _Damn_. He'd promised himself he wouldn't think her name. Concentrating on the glass of the French door, his squinty eyes widened as a looming form quickly disappeared. Was his imagination playing tricks on him _? For God's sake_. Rising to investigate, the shrill sound of his telephone forced him to pause. Distracted, he picked up the heavy receiver, hearing the annoyed voice of his son-in-law, Edwin.

"Hello, Robert, just a quick call. I hoped everyone would be here by now. They are at least fifty minutes late. I wanted to take them to the new house before it got dark. I am surprised at Judith. I made it clear to her she must keep to schedule. Did they depart on time?"

Robert consulted his watch. _Goodness, this is odd_. "Edwin, they left earlier than planned, did Judith not call you? That was almost two hours ago. Perhaps they stopped to shop?"

"Not with the baby with them. She gets fussy before dinner. Judith would never nurse her in public. It is unseemly. Whoops, there is the doorbell, probably them. Sorry to disturb you, Robert. See you soon." And he hung up. From the distance, he heard his own doorbell ring. _Company at this hour_? Ringing the kitchen, he commanded Alice to see to the door.

Anticipating a social visit, Robert ran his liver-spotted hands through his still robust gray hair. He quickly donned his tweed sports jacket, covering the tea stains on his white linen shirt. To his surprise, Alice appeared, escorting two Norristown police officers. Their bearing was tense, their expressions tight.

Robert felt a wash of fear, a growing pain in his right arm. He stood as one of the officers spoke, hearing him clearly, but failing to fully comprehend.

"Mr. Doyle? We are sorry to inform you that there has been a tragic accident involving your family, all dead, skeletons, infant bones, no witnesses, undamaged vehicle, investigation." The voices droned on as Robert's ears filled with a white buzzing sound. His hand clutched at his chest, a feeble attempt to relieve the sudden pressure. As he tumbled over, his pain-glazed eyes hesitated as they registered the specter of the looming mass hanging quietly over the top of the French doors, now undulating with golden striates. As he smashed his face on the corner of his partners desk, the excruciating pain in his fatally damaged heart could not prevent the despairing realization that Netty had somehow managed to save her coup de grace for him.

THE END
ALIEN SPECIES INTERVENTION

Book 2

ECHO

J.K. Accinni

EK Publishing

Lakewood Ranch, FL

# Chapter 1

# 2044 AD

Scotty slipped out his front door unnoticed, easily overlooked if you failed to notice his ringworm and impetigo scars. Barely three and a half feet tall, even at six years old, it put him in the underdeveloped category, another result of the wicked fall his mother had taken while pregnant with him. The fall had initiated his premature birth, keeping him in a grossly understaffed neonatal hospital unit where his tiny body had contracted a number of skin diseases which had left him scarred and disfigured.

To add to his misery, his left eye muscles had not fully developed, allowing his eye to wander in its socket, giving him headaches, vision problems and disfiguring facial effects. The fact that his father continued to deny responsibility for his mother's fall illustrated the truth of his sister, Abby's, claims. His mother had married a full-blown leachy weasel.

Scotty looked up and down the bleak empty hallway, dirty graffitied walls, a testimony to the futility of the lives packed like termites in the ugly utilitarian monstrosity he called home.

He cautiously peeked in the stairwell. Seeing it empty, he scrambled down the cold metal stairs, his tiny worn sneakers masking his footfalls. Emerging from the gloom of the stairwell, he recoiled from the sudden glare of an unexpectedly sunny afternoon.

Scooting around to the back of his building, he dodged empty beer cans, used condoms, and piles of dog feces to hide in the big cardboard box he currently used as his fort.

Yesterday, Chang Appliance, the largest Chinese appliance chain in the world, had delivered something to an exceedingly lucky tenant in his building. He and his buddy, Germaine, had quickly claimed the treasured empty box, dragging it to the back of their tenement in the giant public housing neighborhood of Short Hills, New Jersey, hoping they could hide it from the big guys—at least long enough to have some fun with it.

Short Hills, formerly a bastion of affluent homes in the early part of the century, no longer boasted anyone who could afford them. As a result, the Socialist New World Party had strengthened the urban renewal and eminent domain laws. When the real estate market for large expensive homes (the most visible trapping of despised capitalist pigs) collapsed due to the exodus of the wealthy to more welcoming countries, the homes were appropriated. After removing the squatters and gangs, the bulldozers made way for what some called inevitable progress. The kind of progress that produced nasty government-subsidized housing projects: pretty ironic for a state once known as The Garden State.

Now New Jersey blossomed with one huge hideous urban ghetto after another. Just like many other states undergoing a similar renaissance. Not everyone agreed to call this progress. Like his mother.

She remembered the stories her grandmother had related to her about growing up on a working family farm with cows and hay barns and wide open meadows, replete with the simple harmonies of sunrise crows, twilight crickets and the exceptional fragrance of newly mown grass and wild wood violets.

His great-grandmother had spent her summers as a child delving into the woods, looking for wild strawberry patches and black caps growing along the side of the road, probing waterholes and brooks for magical polliwogs, turtles, minnows, even snakes, which she invariably dragged back to the farmhouse—a favorite pastime.

Instead, Scotty lived with the perpetual smells of hot air brakes, big rig exhaust and alley-rat infested garbage. He heard the sounds of gunshots and screams as the bullies of the neighborhood beat on their latest victim. His playground consisted of hot smelly asphalt and discarded cardboard boxes as his playthings.

Luckily, his mom knew of a few areas that had missed out on the progress. Like Sussex County. Full of rolling hills, mountains, packed trout streams and bucolic lakes. It even bragged some surviving timid black bears that penis-challenged hunters had failed to eradicate in their perpetual attempts to prove their manhood by putting food out for them in the woods, waiting in trees with their weapons, then shotgunning them down, cubs and all.

Hardly convenient, the wealthy found the remoteness objectionable, leaving no albatrosses for the government to tear down. The lack of access to mass transit, actually the reason the area had stayed rural, undesirable to the masses for the same reason.

An hour before dinner, Scotty's parents started fighting again; the same old thing. His mother, one of the four million polio victims in the United States from the epidemic of 2018, had frequently yet unsuccessfully tried to convince his father to relocate. She dreamed about better healthcare and quality of life in a less populated area. Like Sussex County.

His big sister, Abby, a dialysis patient, needed to get to the hospital three times a week. As a toddler, she had developed chronic kidney disease, acute and undoubtedly fatal, requiring her to be in and out of hospital since a baby. She really needed a kidney transplant, but they didn't have the money to buy one from China or South America as did other patients of loftier financial means.

When the country decided to worship at the altar of socialized medicine, an understandably desperate shortage of doctors ensued. Over-utilized emergency rooms, with a standard back up of thirty six hours on any normal day before the polio epidemic, suddenly morphed into requiring an appointment to get in. Dying before your appointment became common, creating a huge underground market which sold these appointments to the highest bidder. Family allowances limited the amount of doctor visits per year. Inevitably, rationing became as necessary as breathing.

Simple sore throats or innocuous coughs, easily overlooked by busy adults trying to avoid burning a valuable medical visit, still spread germs. Unfortunately, polio was highly contagious. An airline passenger can infect an entire plane with one phlegmy throat. The government burden of bloated bureaucracy put the final nail in that coffin.

The epidemic started because of a Muslim law, passed in 2005, in Northern Nigeria. They issued an Islamic Fatwa, declaring the polio vaccine part of a secret conspiracy by the United States and the United Nations against the Muslim faith. Their claim declared that the vaccine drops, secretly designed to sterilize the Muslim true believers, stimulated the virus. It then reappeared in Nigeria and spread throughout Africa. In this world of high-speed airline transportation it didn't take long to span the globe. Legal immigration figures show the number one source of immigrants in the good ol' U.S.A. to be from Africa. And who could blame them?

The SNW Party now exercised iron control over the government. The exceptionality of the United States had started its decline long ago when the masses realized they could use their vote to elect officials willing to rape the country in their efforts to buy those very votes. So they elected the politician and party that promised them the most swag. They didn't care that someone must inevitably pay for it, so long as it wasn't them.

As a result, availability of capital to grow the private sector diminished. Small businesses suffered and disappeared. Taxes shot through the roof. Large corporations left the country along with the wealthy. The Hollywood elite bailed quickly; France, London and Mexico their preferred destinations. A pound of chopped meat in a grocery store (if you could find it on the shelf) now cost $33.00. And it was mostly pink slime fillers at that. Thank heavens for food stamps.

The country now consisted of a populous that couldn't catch a break as rival political parties outdid themselves robbing from the taxpayers. The country, no longer a melting pot, became a nation of fighting tribal factions and competing ideologies. The SNW Party, the Muslim Brotherhood, the Green and the smaller Republican Party perpetually slandered each other in their quest to control what remained of the country while the people did their best to hold their families together.

There no longer existed a national language. Children attended school for four hours a day, eight months a year; the average work week was a mere twenty five hours. The public insisted that politicians respected their need for rest and recreation. If they didn't, they lost their jobs—voted out. Capitalism reigned no longer.

The outdated pieces of paper called the Constitution lost their relevance and respect. The new law of the land required the courts to consider the beliefs and requirements of all global groups when assessing legal responsibility. Political correctness ran amok. And the deficit—stratospheric. Why do you think China had such a large economic presence? They owned the United States. Yes, what a lovely country the people lived in.

The Chinese depended on that. Money for research and development in the U.S. had vanished. Our scientists had moved to other countries, as had the best doctors, the rich, Wall Street, and the entrepreneurs who had found their spirits crushed by taxes and burdensome regulations. Everyone needed capital to survive. There was no capital in the U.S. The government would spend, spend and spend on entitlements and kickbacks to their donor cronies. It didn't matter who was in power—they _all_ did it and there was no way to stop it. A ruling class of vampires that threw a few trinkets to the people to keep them quiet and willing to hold out their arms to have their blood sucked. Surprisingly, the world's superpowers, China, Russia and Iran, still allowed the U.S. to borrow money, even though repayment of the principal appeared unlikely. And the interest sure was a doozey.

And then the polio came; the U.S. the hardest hit. Over ten million children and four million adults died in the U.S. The highest percentage of adults came from minority communities, mostly immigrants from third world countries. Another three million were left maimed and crippled to one degree or another. Urgent medical care meant emergency rooms came under siege; the doctors almost nonexistent. Too many hospitals closed for lack of operating funds and too little reimbursement.

It hadn't come as a surprise to many to learn the United States Health and Human Services Department had quietly stopped budgeting for the creation and implementation of the polio vaccine in 2013. They had taken responsibility for vaccines and immunizations away from parents who had long ago rejected the poisons in the makeup of the vaccines. The boards of education, no longer monitoring the children's vaccination requirements, demanded congressional investigations that went nowhere. Conspiracy advocates abounded. The most popular theory postulated that the virus, deliberately released by the government, would serve to thin the ranks of the entitlement classes. Abdicating responsibility to deadly disease; clearly far easier and more expedient than Congress risking re-election in a controversial attempt at fiscal responsibility. C'est la vie. Massive riots in the streets enabled citizens to vent, but the efforts for change advanced anemically.

*

Scotty grew hungry for his dinner while waiting for Germaine. If his best buddy didn't show soon, they might lose their prize to the big kids. He didn't want the big kids to spot him without Germaine for backup. The last time that had happened, they had held him down and pulled off his pants. They had jeered and taunted him, calling him 'Scotty-watty tissue paper' and, worse yet, 'ass wipe'. They had left him pantless on the pavement to slink home in disgrace. His mommy had held him and shed tears with him. His daddy had made fun of him and called him a sissy boy. He didn't think sissy boy sounded nice coming from his daddy's mouth. Now his daddy referred to both him and his big sister as parasites.

He smiled the first time he had heard it. It had sounded like a big important word. He had loved the way it rolled off his tongue and liked to repeat the word over and over, enjoying the syllables that popped out of his mouth so satisfyingly. Then he remembered his mother's face after his father had said it. It looked crumpled in. That's when he realized it was a bad word. Now, the word just slithered out of his mouth like a venomous snake looking for prey to strike.

He developed trouble sleeping, nightmares a common occurrence. He never remembered any of his dreams, but he knew they always contained a big dark murky figure who resembled his dad. Unfortunately, Scotty had developed into a suspicious, defensive little boy, trusting only his mother and sister.

He loved his half-sister, Abby. Abby's daddy and his mom had never married. Everyone said young and foolish made a bad combination for marriage. That's what Abby said too. He didn't think his mom had ever behaved foolishly. If she had been his age, he would have made her his very best friend. Even though playing with a girl made you look like a loser.

Thirteen-year-old Abby became Scotty's strongest advocate. Whenever Scotty refused to go outside for fear of bodily harm, Abby would sit him down and spin stories of imaginary worlds, fantastic creatures and handsome, brave little boys. He loved hearing Abby's stories even more than playing with Germaine.

That's why he couldn't understand why his daddy ignored Abby. His mommy said sisters and brothers must always protect one another. But he knew his daddy didn't want to protect Abby.

Late one night when he got up to go potty, he heard his parents fighting. He heard his father shout something about Abby hanging around his neck like an anchor. He heard his daddy call Abby a bad name. His daddy said he didn't want to be responsible for a bastard kid that didn't belong to him.

Overhearing his daddy gave him a stomachache. His troubled sleep left him tired and cranky the next morning. But he still managed to promise his mommy he would always protect Abby, even if he had to stand on a chair to do it. He thought it would make his mother happy. He didn't understand why she cried instead.

Late one fall day, Scotty came home from grade school, his paperwork in his eager hands. He wanted to show his mom the smiley face the teacher had given him. His daddy was supposed to take Abby to the hospital for her weekly dialysis treatment. Mommy worked six days a week at the grocery store, so Daddy reluctantly took responsibility. When Scotty had remarked that Daddy should work so Mommy could stay home more, he claimed he had very important things to do and that a dummy like Scotty wouldn't understand. Mommy looked like her tummy hurt when Daddy said things like that.

Actually, the little boy didn't recall his daddy ever working like Mommy did. He often saw her late at night, removing her shiny leg brace to massage her tired muscles.

Scotty realized most of the dads in his building didn't work. They formulated important matters to discuss in the rec room. The dads wouldn't let little kids in the rec room because of the beer and smoking. So when he found Abby unconscious on the floor of her bedroom, he ran down to the basement and pounded on the door of the locked rec room.

"Hello, anyone in there? Daddy, I need you. Daddy, Daddy. Help." He knew Abby should have gone to the hospital this morning. Why hadn't Daddy taken her? But no one would open the door to a crying six year old. He tried again, banging over and over. The door suddenly opened, omitting smoke and loud raucous music.

"Kid, what cha doing screaming out here? Get lost." The big man wore an old stained shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his fat hairy arms. He exuded an unfamiliar bad smell.

"Is my daddy here? I need him to come home. Abby's on the floor." Scotty danced nervously, his voice small and frightened, his wandering eye floating erratically.

"I'm not gonna say it again. Don't be bangin' on this door." The big man burped, sending a gust of rancid beer breath in Scotty's face. He cringed, the door slamming in his face.

Scotty knew saving Abby by himself would require some bravery.

He ran outside into the dirty street, his heart pounding so hard he thought the bullies in the neighborhood might hear him.

Choking back his sobs, he ran up and down the street, dodging cars and screaming for the police. He glimpsed the old grannies from the neighborhood who congregated at the corner, lounging in cheap plastic chairs, holding court on the sidewalks. He scrambled out of the street, hurrying toward them.

"Abby's going to die. She's on the floor. Please, we need help."

Unable to hold back the tears overflowing his wild eyes, he dragged the grannies to his family's apartment. A nice Muslim lady sat with him while two other black grannies made a few cellphone calls.

Soon, three strapping black men entered the apartment. Scotty, positive they would rob his family, stuck to them like glue. Relieved, he watched them lift Abby in their arms and carry her out of the apartment. He tried to follow.

"Hey kiddo, you stay here until your mom comes home. Your sister's very sick. You need to hold down the fort. This nice lady will stay with you." One of the black men, his eyes soft and moist, ran his hand along Scotty's shoulder giving him a reassuring stroke, and softly shut the door behind him.

The nice Muslim lady stayed with him until his mommy came home from work. He hoped Abby didn't die. Fear made him pray.

He didn't know much about what happened after that. His mommy asked him to stay in his room. He heard lots of crying and silences. Then his daddy came home and the screaming started. He didn't know what it meant, but he felt terror-stricken anyway. He began to relax when the cops took his daddy away. Abby came home a week later, alive but painfully thin. Scotty began to sleep much, much better.

A few days later, his mother silently handed him a cardboard box, telling him to pack his toys. She folded all their clothes except for Daddy's, the brace on her afflicted leg clanking around the apartment as she packed up their little lives.

The night before the move, his mother sat them both down for a talk.

"Scotty, do you understand we're moving far away?" She pulled her light-brown hair back in a ponytail, long wisps escaping to frame her thin stressed face, her voice low and tired.

"Yes, Mommy," he assured her, not understanding the meaning of far away. But he loved and trusted his mom. He knew every line on her wonderful face. A smile failed to appear as he scrutinized her expression. Somehow, he realized, she needed him to be okay with the move.

Abby picked him up and sat him on her lap.

"Honey, you shouldn't strain yourself like that. The nurse said—"

"Mom, it's okay. Let me help." She rocked Scotty on her lap. Her pretty face lit up, her affection for Scotty giving him confidence as he looked into her eyes, laughing. "You're our big guy aren't you, Scotty? It's going to be you, me and Mom. What a great team. We can do anything, right?"

"Right." Shouting and laughing, he looked at his mom. "Right, Mommy?"

"Right, baby, a great team." She finally joined in the laughter, her children's optimism infectious.

#  Chapter 2

The scary move to Sussex County brought about many changes; not the least of which was Scotty never again seeing his only playmate, Germaine. Germaine said he would beg his mom to bring him for a visit, but Germaine didn't have a daddy to drive him there.

Luckily, Abby recovered from her sickness. Her physician assistant (she never actually saw a doctor, ever, not in her whole life) determined her kidney would have no lasting damage. Maybe. From now on, they must watch very carefully to make sure Abby got to her dialysis on time. It was critical. Mom told them about the cute little neighborhood not far from their new home that offered a health clinic with the services Abby needed. Relief washed over Scotty. He didn't want to have to save Abby again. The traumatic event reverberated in his memory, too much for a six-year-old boy.

Their sad little three-bedroomed ranch in Sussex County looked as lonely and forlorn as Scotty felt. The roof desperately needed repairs. When it rained, they ran around, laughing and bumping into one another with pots in their hands, collecting the drips. When they took showers, the water didn't stay hot for long; the last one in froze. They learned they must accept the landlord's response to their complaints. He gave them two choices, suck it up or get out.

They did their best to make it a home, and Mrs. Preston made sure she kept it spotless and full of love. Scotty screamed with happiness, thrilled to find it included a tiny backyard with his very own tree. The air smelled clean and fragrant. But, best of all, it didn't have his daddy. His nightmares stopped. Whenever his mother mentioned he could visit his dad, his heart raced with panic. On those occasions, he usually pottied in his bed while he slept. The next day, when his mommy changed his bed, he would tell her all about his nightmare. Her face slipped into such a haggard and defeated bearing that he felt swamped with guilt, convinced his father's pronouncements about him might come true.

Sadly, the little boy found no playmates in his hilly little neighborhood. The homes were mostly occupied by black and Spanish families, along with the usual separate enclave of Muslims. The children in the neighborhood took one look at his bald spots and disfiguring scars, and refused to play with him, turning up their noses. They made fun of his wandering eye, calling him cootie head, dick wad, faggot and douche bag. The older boys would jeer at him, enjoying his hurt. The most aggressive pushed him to the ground, kicking dirt and gravel at him to cover his cootie bugs.

Scotty wandered around and around the neighborhood, looking for someone to play with. His loneliness made him long to grow up quickly. Then he could do anything he wanted, not needing the attention or approval of kids who felt it necessary to call him ass wipe. His memories tasted nasty, festering like an infected wound.

One day, he found the top of the hill behind his neighborhood. He discovered a curious path that tempted him into the woods. The dead leaves from tall, thick grandfather oaks, dried and crinkled, disintegrated underfoot as he explored. Over time, he learned to entertain himself in the woods, fighting imaginary wars with imaginary magical creatures. The woods became an enchanting place for him. He felt peace. He felt safe. He loved the small clearings drizzled with dappled sunlight, the occasional sighting of little creatures. He never felt lonely but was seduced by the magic of timid rabbits, quarreling squirrels, hyperactive chipmunks and the silent family of deer; all his unwitting playmates, enchanting him with their innocence and acceptance.

Today he turned seven. He looked forward to the scrumptious cake his mother always baked for his birthday. He knew Abby planned to have a special gift for him from the meager money she earned from the Muslim family she babysat for. He could hardly contain his excitement during the school day, which passed too slowly. He thought he would age another year while he waited. The usual snubs from his classmates mattered not, his mind focused on the happy party waiting for him at home.

Running up to his now familiar door after the school bus dropped him off, he jerked in surprise, seeing his father's car in the drive, hearing shouts and angry voices.

Letting himself in, he trembled at the sight of his father. His heartbeat ratcheted up, thumping hard as his breathing came fast and shallow, his stomach starting a slow roil. He witnessed his father's arms looped around his mother's neck as he tried to force her to kiss him. She fought back, trying to slip out of his grip with little success, her balance a hindrance because of her brace.

His father's expression hardened: angry and ugly. A sneer deformed his thin lips as he slowly strangled her while Scotty beat on his father's legs, vainly trying to protect his mother. She screamed, fighting him off until a desperate shove sent her falling back on the kitchen table where Scotty's birthday cake sat, waiting to have the candles lit for his party. Seven beautiful blue candles on top of rich chocolate icing. His mom caught her balance on the kitchen table, sending his beautiful birthday cake flying.

Everyone froze as the cake landed upside down, splattering on the hardwood floor. Staring at his ruined birthday cake, Scotty felt his stomach turn inside out, queasiness ready to explode. And a little something new: anger. The kind of anger that festers and simmers beneath the surface, cooking in its own poison while it twists the mind with bitterness. Picking up the remains of the cake, he threw it at his father who just laughed at him, calling him a crybaby and a little turd.

"I'm not a little turd!"

Sobbing, he ran out the door, up the hill and into the trees. He just kept running, past all his favorite spots, into the deep woods, his sobs turning to anger, magnified by the resentment of his afflictions.

Slowing down, he dropped to the ground, leaning up against a hillside unfamiliar to him. He tried to block the memory of his daddy's belittling taunting tone, and the damaged look on his mom's face. Restlessly, he wandered along the hillside until he turned a corner, stepping back in surprise.

Before him stood a massive granite boulder. He eyeballed the immense rock, wondering how he dare claim it for his own. He noticed handholds seemingly carved into the side of the rock. _Hmm, can I pull myself up?_ Approaching the rock, he struggled with the handholds, finally reaching the top. What a great spot for a fort. Curling up in a depression, he felt the warmth from the sun seep from the rock into his body. His drowsy eyes slowly closed over his tear-stained cheeks and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

*

The creature roused herself from a deep slumber, feeling the presence of a large life form. She sensed its closeness, but noted it was not yet in the deep quiet cavern of the Hive. She called the Hive home, and her safety had been well assured for over a century. Sadly, she coped with constant loneliness: her only companions the occasional woodland creature that found its way into the cavern. Periodically she would venture out to observe the behavior of the human creatures of this planet, caution an imperative.

The trauma witnessed over a century ago still smoldered sharply in her mind; the guilt just as fresh. She could have intervened when she became suspicious of her birth Brother's mental and physical damage during her emergence.

Or perhaps it had happened during the Womb's entry into the Earth's atmosphere. Maybe the Womb had failed to properly care for Brother, although it had certainly cared for her without complaint. She often suspected the Womb had deliberately allowed the incident to escalate just so it could study the outcome. How else could the Womb learn how to interpret the actions of the humans?

She agreed they merited study, but her sensibilities had cringed as the slaughter had transpired. Most of the time, the Womb took a hands-off policy, not wanting to interfere with the culture of any species, unless the species became catastrophically aggressive to others, of course. But this was a minion, the Womb's chosen.

She remembered back a full century to the time she had last laid eyes on the doomed Sister. She had considered making contact without her Brother's knowledge when the Sister had suddenly appeared one day at the rock that disguised the entrance to the cavern.

She had watched from her hidden position in the forest as the Sister had first discovered her birth Brother and carried him away from the Hive. She didn't understand why Brother had not objected. Confusion ruled as she had tried to puzzle out why her birth Brother had neglected to begin his mission. Instead he had involved himself intimately in the Sister's life, apparently satisfied with the tiny part of his mission that he did manage to accomplish: creating two new Elders to assist him.

As it had turned out, an evil human Brother stalked the Sister. He had captured her and participated in a brutal murder. She knew how bloodthirsty the evil species behaved on this planet, observing firsthand what had happened to the Sister, her birth Brother, and his own little furry pet from the safety of the hilltop near the forest edge. She remembered with pain her birth Brother's golden life force splashing on the unyielding ground. She bitterly remembered the look of astonishment then disgust as the evil Brother that had murdered him wiped the sacred life force off the heels of his boots.

The shock had numbed her as the mesmerizing golden light and vital thought projections had faded from Brother's disfigured eyes. She had actually felt the genetic mental connection shared by all of her species being brutally severed. Running back through the woods, she had vowed to never leave the Hive until she could assure her own safety.

It was incomprehensible to believe the bloodthirsty human Brothers would reject the very gifts meant to rescue them and justify the complex energy expended long ago on their behalf. But they had, making the unfortunate choice that had pronounced their death sentence. She wondered if the humans had rejected Sister's new tail. The humans must realize by now that a tail was nothing new to their species. The success of the mission had demanded complex alterations of their physical and biological systems. It was a good thing that only the tail had manifested, not the antlers. That would have been a disaster.

Determination coursed through her solar veins. Her job rested on her ability to ensure the Elder's grand plan, offering salvation for both species, not failure. Success would ensure the redemption from the Womb that minions had sought for hundreds of thousands of years. Perhaps the humans needed a different type of manifestation. She would have to ponder. If she could alter a few of her own cells and enzymes, a solution might be available. Maybe the Womb would help her. But her intention would never include getting rid of her own beautiful tail. The engineering for that would be too complex to attempt without help. She felt comforted by her tail, even as she knew it had a life of its own.

She curiously wondered why her Brother had not tried to contact her. She would have been willing to complete the mission in his stead. As things stood, now that Brother had expired, her honor (and genetic programming) obligated her to eventually complete the mission for him anyway.

But she remained hesitant. Over the last century she had observed the savage violence that this species perpetrated on itself. She understood why the Womb had authorized the mission. And, just like the Womb, she now saw little reason to save this species. She suspected the Elders truly had made a tragic mistake. They had offered excuse after excuse for this life form, hoping evolution would tame them. Then, with influence from the Elders no longer a factor, the Womb had passed judgment, ordering the mission. But the possibility existed that her decision might abet an error. She decided to take her time. This planet needed much more observation: direct observation. She hoped the Womb would allow her the time. Maybe if she could just find _The One._

It would truly be a tragedy if she decided to let this species self-destruct, along with Brother's newly obtained Elder state—now tragically lost. What a surprising discovery that had been. Her species had said goodbye to Elders long ago. In anger at their hubris, the Womb had altered the minions' ability to become Elders after discovering their fateful mistake, forever preventing healing of humans, but not other life forms. Now, minion expiration came through old age or the birth process. It appeared that, for some reason, Brother's own genetic instructions, meant to prevent the conversion, had failed. She could not know for sure without a laboratory at her disposal. Her mind, distracted by the biology, pondered the complexity of their enzymes.

She wondered if she could achieve that lofty state of Elder herself. Had she already? She had easily surpassed her normal life span long ago. She would never know until the first opportunity to heal a Brother or Sister presented itself. Yet she refused to try until she decided that this species deserved it. As of yet, her doubts remained strong.

She could stay in the Hive as long as it took, but she was in doubt as to the amount of time the Womb would allow her. She wanted to wait until she had received a sign of worthiness. But she was terribly lonely. Her species thrived on close contact. They lived in communal groups—hives. Similar to what were called families here on Earth, only much larger. She had noticed that most of the other species of this planet also lived in families. Of course, she had expected human life on this planet to have evolved similar habits. Sighing, she worried about the damage perpetual isolation would do to her mental state.

The Hive, under supervision of the Womb, would always take care of all the needs a carbon-based life form required to survive, irrespective of their metabolism. The Womb, being indestructible, easily accomplished all tasks in the pursuit of creating life. But she remained alone, unable to stop the toll her isolation undeniably looked to extract. Surely her own iridescent eyes dimmed? Maybe the time to do something about her dilemma neared.

The creature planned to take an excursion to the surface sometime soon. She needed to check on the various groups that clustered in the small buildings on land that had previously grown stunning fruit orchards.

Her monumental shock when she had witnessed the fruit trees ripped from the earth, destroying a unique gift to the humans, shook her to her core. Gone the orchards that would feed so many, for so long. Within a decade, the miracle seeds from those trees and the crops would have spread naturally all over the world, feeding everyone. The wanton waste was unforgivable. As a result, the Womb angrily intensified its plan for revenge. This species clearly refused to learn. How they had become programmed for self-destruction, she did not know. Perhaps if the Elders had acquiesced differently to the Womb after the discovery of their forbidden experiment, they could have intervened, guiding evolution to a more satisfactory outcome—the very guidance that the Womb had enjoyed exerting everywhere else, feeling no planet too insignificant. But the Womb had forbidden the guidance. The humans were on their own, a punishment they were unaware of.

The creature disconnected from the Hive wall, her tail dry as it withdrew from the thick membrane. Leaving her private chamber, she shuffled and bobbed her way up the long lonely trail to the outside world.

Arriving at the end of the underground trail, the creature reached her hand into the cavern wall, asking it to part. When the wall split, she squeezed and contorted her way around the rocks and boulders blocking and disguising the Hive. Glancing back, she made sure the Hive closed behind her.

She remembered that the blame for the catastrophic events of a century ago belonged partially to her. After her Emergence, she had left her Brother behind in his helpless hibernation state in her zeal to explore topside. If her Emergence had occurred back on Oolaha, surrounded by all the help her Brother had needed to emerge from hibernation and begin transition, his eventual expiration would have been successful. She herself would have received proper guidance, allowing the time for her awareness to digest all the stimuli being transmitted to her mind from her own transcription cells. She would not have run off halfcocked and uninformed, failing to ensure the Hive closed behind her, making the fatal mistake that had allowed the Sister to enter and discover her birth Brother.

Having reached maturity, she realized her birth Brother must have called the human to use for his own recovery, but she doubted her Brother's powers had been strong enough.

The Womb created the energy she and Brother needed to survive as a by-product of its slow feeding on the organic material it rested on. It was an inexhaustible source of the energy she needed to feed on as long as she remained underground. Once above ground, she took all she needed from the sun. She could also use a human Brother or Sister, but she strongly intended to stay far away for now. Besides, she much preferred the slower absorption from the sun. It reacted more efficiently with her metabolism. Taking nourishment from a human left her species confused and disoriented. Perhaps the very reason Brother had left the Hive with the Sister. Maybe confusion had reigned.

The occasional animal which wandered near could obviously smell the membrane and knew the Womb lived. They usually entered out of curiosity and perhaps hunger, causing little damage. But she knew the Sister had entered because of her own carelessness.

Not only did she carry overwhelming guilt and barely tolerable loneliness, but she knew her species probably did not know she existed. They monitored the energy outflow from the Womb membrane to determine if Brother still lived, but the Womb could not make a distinction between its minions. They undoubtedly thought she was Brother. The Womb had never registered any simultaneous energy draws, cluing them into her existence back home. Over the last century, they had recorded her withdrawal, mistakenly believing it to be that of Brother's.

At some point, Brother would have died. They would not know that he had an offspring or that he had become an Elder. They would expect the humans to carry out the mission of their own volition after her Brother's death. Monitoring this planet would provide few answers. Only an Elder could communicate through the Womb to Oolaha. But the Womb knew. That's all that really mattered. Oh well, she could only do her best. When she thought the humans were ready, she would begin.

Pushing all the unanswerable questions from her rambling mind, she stepped around the cairn of rocks that helped protect the Hive and stretched up to the sun. Sensing the life form she detected earlier, she peered around the rocks, unable to locate it. She decided she would scramble up her favorite rock to get closer to the sun where she would be unobserved. She loved to curl up in the depression at the top. It soaked up the sun and warmed her fat belly when she nestled in.

Reaching out with her long slender fingers, she touched the rock. Her suction-like pads helped pull her body up as she climbed, creeping up the side of the rock. Her head swiveled up and down as she gauged the distance from the top to the bottom. Pulling herself up and over the top, she made an unexpected discovery. There, in her depression, lay the life form: a small human Brother. He wore the coverings humans liked to swaddle themselves in, measuring almost twice her size, yet appearing harmless enough as he slept. Quivering with anticipation, she decided to quietly sit and watch, wrapping her golden tail around herself.

As she observed, she weighed the attraction her birth Brother had felt for his human Sister. She longed to reach out and touch the long fibers on the young Brother's head, very different from the fuzz and fur on her own body. She wondered if it felt softer. It certainly did not keep him warm in the way her pelt did. She guessed that explained the swaddling. They would not be so vulnerable to heat fluctuations if their metabolisms evolved closer to that of her species; so much simpler. She sniffed, knowing that if she was consulted on the design she would certainly make improvements. Her puzzled eyes drifted over the strange markings on his head and the scars on his skin, shaking her head at his obvious signs of disease; the poor human Brother.

It was no wonder the Womb had decided they must be revisited for intervention. Perhaps the time should have come much sooner, before they had started to live inside caves instead of out in the open like herds. Before they had learned to practice wanton bloodlust, employed so often for reasons other than survival. They were a lost cause. Banishing all her troubling thoughts, she concentrated on the little Brother. Without realizing what she was doing, she let her probing aura coalesce in his mind. And suddenly his eyes flew open.

# Chapter 3

What the—? Scrambling quickly up on his butt, Scotty scooted out of the depression, edging to the back of the rock. There he sat and stared at the funny looking creature, eh no, elf. No, fairy. Yeah, it must be a fairy. Wow. He had found an actual golden fairy. Hopping up, he made a grab for it. The fairy unwound his long tail and disappeared over the side of the rock. Scotty leaned over the edge, the fairy nowhere to be seen.

Carefully, he lowered himself down the rock, slipping on the sharp footholds as he descended. Desperately, he looked around, trying to discover where the fairy had disappeared to. _Gee, Mom will never_ _believe this._ He wasn't sure he could convince her unless he brought the fairy home. _Holy mackerel, no one will believe this!_ Excitement gripped him; a touch of something special in his life for the first time.

He knew he must find the hiding place where the fairy lived. Stumbling over the loose pile of rock heaped near the hillside, he discovered an enormous rip in his pant leg. Squatting down, he examined it. _Mom won't be happy about this._ And he didn't even have the fairy to show her. Straightening up, something caught his eye. A golden glint, just like the fairy.

He tripped over the rocks, his footing unsteady until he located the place the glint had come from. Digging down between the rocks, his fingers withdrew an object. A coin. He rubbed it on his jeans, removing some of the crusted dirt so deeply embedded. He stared, his wandering eye refusing to focus.

Turning it around and over in his little fingers, the heavy coin finally revealed more of the golden sheen and a date, 1702. _Hmm, It's not even new_. He wondered if the fairy had left it for him.

Maybe the fairy knew of his birthday and had left it as a gift to make up for his dad ruining his day, hurting his mom and calling him bad names. If it did, Scotty wished the fairy could have made the coin a new shiny one. But at least he could show some kind of proof to his mom. Glancing around for the last time, he brushed off his pants and started home.

*

The creature stood inside the Hive. She felt full of furious agitation, yet oddly exhilarated. She wished the little Brother had not run off. She supposed she could have followed him, but wondered if he might return. If he did, she should figure out a better way to handle the situation. Even though the encounter had gone badly, she felt different, hopeful. She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling about this little human Brother. Maybe he could be _The One_.

*

The little boy hurried down the path that took him out of his magical woods, the golden coin tucked safely in his pocket. Running down the hill past his neighbors' homes, he could see his house. He noted with relief that his father's car no longer sat in the driveway. Bursting breathlessly through the front door, he beheld his mom and Abby waiting for him.

"Oh, baby, we were so worried. Where did you go? We called and called. Didn't you hear us? We even went up to the woods." His frazzled mom hurried over as fast as she could, her brace clinking at her side. She sat awkwardly on the floor in front of him, holding out her arms to sweep him to her chest. Tears coursed down her face, the worry lines standing out in relief as she softly ran her fingers over the bald spots on his head.

"It's okay, Mom. I'm okay. Please don't cry, I'm sorry I ran away." He hugged her tight, his young head fitting under her neck for comfort.

"Hi, sport," Abby said. "Glad you came home—got'cha something." Joining her brother and mom on the floor, she gave Scotty a kiss and put a brightly wrapped slender gift in his lap. He fingered the ribbon with wonder. The bow was bright gold. Unwrapping the gift, he grinned in amazement at the book about fairies. _Wow, did this mean they knew?_ Leafing through the book, he located a whole chapter on wood fairies. He would study that chapter first. He knew he would learn everything he needed to know about his fairy in the book.

"Gee, thanks, Ab. Mom, I met a fairy in the woods today. He left me a present. Did you tell him it was my birthday?" His face shined with unconcealed innocence.

"Sweetie, I'm sure you met your very own birthday fairy. But what do you mean, he gave you a present?"

Scotty sighed, knowing his mom worried about child molesters. Though it was unlikely any lived in the neighborhood, she monitored everything, knowing they had to be extra careful ever since they had abolished the sexual predator register (declared unconstitutional—they have rights you know).

"Mom, he did leave me a present. He's a golden fairy. Abby, do fairies usually have a tail? His tail glowed. And he left me this." Pulling out the coin from his pocket, he proudly held it up for his sister and mom. Taking it from him to examine, his mother carefully scrutinized the coin.

"This coin is very old, sweetie, old is good. That's what makes it valuable."

"Is it a special coin, Mom? It must be special because I got it from the golden fairy, and he knew about my birthday." Scotty's chest inflated, his wandering eye unexpectedly centered in his eyeball.

Looking over to the kitchen table, a new birthday cake winked at him. He could tell his mom had purchased it at the bakery. He wondered where she had got the money from, but the moment contained so much joy he pushed away his guilt. Jumping up, he tugged on both of them.

"Mom, let's have cake. I want to blow out my candles and make a wish." Hurrying over to the table, she lit the candles as she sang to him. While they blazed with flame, he made a wish and blew them all out. Smiling happily to himself, he realized that, this time, his birthday wish would come true, absolutely convinced his golden fairy would grant it. He couldn't wait to wake up the next morning to hear of his father's death.

When bedtime came, his mother tucked him in. Noticing his gold coin and his new book in bed with him, she removed them, placing both on his dresser.

"Sweetie, I think we'll put your coin someplace safe, it's probably very valuable. I'll look into it and see what I can find out. Good night, birthday boy." As his mother shut off the light, his last thoughts filled his head with images of the fairy and the most fantastic birthday ever. Scotty slumbered fitfully, unaware of the probing flashes of residual rainbow light that sent fingers to tumble around in his brain.

*

Going off to school the next morning, he took his new book with him. Reading the chapter on wood fairies, he found no mention of golden ones with long glowing tails. As a matter of fact, he didn't see any fairies with tails. They all wore wings of some kind. Certainly none of them with horns like his golden fairy. His disappointment acute, excitement dimmed, he slowly grasped that he might be wrong about his fairy. No, he knew a fairy when he saw one. What else could it have been?

Riding home on the school bus his spirits flagged with disappointment to find the rain pouring down. He wanted to return to the big rock and wait for the fairy, afraid that if he didn't show up, the fairy might give up on him and find a new little boy to spend time with. His mom waited for him at the bus stop. Taking her hand, he scooted under her umbrella. Smiling gently, she smoothed back the wisps of hair that refused to cover his ringworm scars no matter how she brushed them.

"Sweetie, your father called. He would like to visit this weekend and apologize for his behavior. Would you like to see him?"

"No, no!" Scotty screamed, his face turning white. His father was still alive? The fairy hadn't come through for him. Something had gone wrong with his wish. Maybe he needed to tell it directly to the fairy.

"Mommy, I need to go to the woods today." His voice frantic, he begged for her permission.

"Don't be silly. You'll get soaked. You're not going anywhere except home with me."

Arriving at their front door, she closed the umbrella and scooted him into the house.

Hanging up his jacket, he ran to Abby's bedroom where he found her studying. She was in high school now, her time no longer as available to him. He climbed up onto her bed, trying to fit in her lap the way he used to as a tot.

"Come on, little dude, I need to get my homework done." Abby laughingly rained kisses down on his sad face, signs of his infant impetigo less of a beacon now that a growth spurt looked to be in play. Stroking his patchy fine hair back from his face, she pushed her books aside, cuddling up with her brother on her pillows. "What's wrong, Scotty?"

Tears slowly leaked down his chubby cheeks as he snuggled up to his sister. "Abby, I love you."

"I love you too, champ. What's going on?"

He put his ear up to his sister's to whisper. "I think Daddy's going to move back in with us." He quickly looked to his sister's face to gauge her reaction. Abby looked grim, but she hugged him tightly.

"No, Scotty, that will never happen. Mom promised he would never get the chance to hurt her or demean us again. So put a smile on your face and get ready for dinner."

"Okay, but if he does, I'm going to make a magic sword to protect us with. I'll always protect you and Mommy." Scrambling off Abby's bed, he ran to his own room. He took out his book of fairies from his backpack and slid it into a drawer. He would solve his fairy dilemma on his own and in secrecy. That's probably what his fairy wanted anyway.

Sitting down to dinner, he noticed his mom serving mac and cheese again on the fancy blue and white plastic plates she'd been given as a wedding gift before his birth. The aroma of hot gooey cheese tantalized him. Mom made it almost every other day because he loved it, naturally. Chowing down, he noticed Abby and Mommy talking in low voices about the welfare money. They needed the welfare money. Everyone got welfare money.

"Kids, I have some important news for you." He looked closer at his mom's face, her lips tightly pursed, her eyes tense. Not with anger, more like scary disappointment. Did he see fear on his mom's face? What was going on? Looking at Abby, he could tell she already knew.

"We're going to have some new house guests."

"No, not Daddy, please." His stomach started to ache. His mommy reached over to stroke his arm, calming him.

"No, baby, it won't be your father. He's gone for good. I don't even know where he's going, but I do know he'll leave New Jersey. We're going to share the house and expenses with another family. It's all arranged. You know the Diaz family, doesn't Jose go to your school, Abby?"

"Yes, Mom, he does, he's okay. Is the whole family coming?"

"Yes, except for Mr. Diaz. He'll be heading to Mexico to try to jump the fence. If he's successful, he stands a good chance of nabbing a job, and they'll probably move out if that happens. If he gets caught, he'll go to prison. It's a felony in Mexico, they're very serious about protecting jobs for their own people. Then we'll have to think about a more permanent solution."

"Solution to what, Mom?" Abby asked.

"Honey, anyone with a job is being removed from the welfare rolls. We can keep our housing stipend and our energy assistance, thank God. And the food stamps will help until they cut them out. My paycheck won't cover the rest of our expenses. Not with the co-pays for Abby's dialysis. The Diaz family is losing their welfare check, too.

"But, Mom—why? Why is the check going to stop? Can we talk to the mailman? Is this the week he comes, or is it next week?" Scotty's voice faltered with fright.

"Don't worry, sweetie, everything will work out if we all pull together. The government is just finding it difficult to collect the money from the rich people. They can't give it to us unless they collect it first. I know it's not fair, the rich have so much compared to us. It's not the government's fault. The rich people are just getting better at hiding the money. We'll learn to make do. That's why the Diaz family is moving in.

"All the boys will sleep together in your room, Scotty. The three of us will sleep together in Abby's room. I'm going to move my bed in there. The Diaz family will have two rooms for six people. Most importantly, they'll pay us rent. That'll make up for most of the loss of the welfare." Grinning, his mom tried to put a smile on her face, but Scotty could see her struggle.

"Mom, as long as we're together, that's all that matters." Abby got up and put her arms around her mother. "Hey, champ, since we're going to be roomies, why don't we do the dishes and give Mom a break?"

Scotty understood that many changes loomed large in his life. As he cleared the table, he thought about Jose Diaz, the only one in the family he recognized. Jose, an older kid on his bus a couple of years ago, didn't speak English very well. He kept to himself, never horsing around with the other kids, although he had nodded now and then as Scotty boarded the bus. Rumors said he had grown up in another country.

Helping his mother up from her chair, he glanced out the window, hoping the sun had finished chasing away the rain. The thunderclouds covered most of the sun as it began its nightly disappearance below the horizon. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

*

Sunny skies greeted Scotty as he rose to get ready for school. Unexpectedly returning home after being dismissed early when his teacher had failed to show up, he changed into his old jeans and ran up the hill to find the path to the woods.

The ground under his feet felt spongy from all the rain. Small puddles collected in layers of dead leaves, turning the clear water to tannin. He took a deep breath, smelling organic matter rotting; a contribution to the cycle of life. He soon found himself approaching the path that led up to the rock. He crept slowly, not wanting to scare the fairy. Scotty's eyes scanned the area, coming up empty. Struggling with the handholds in the rock, he pulled himself up, grunting loudly in the silence. _Well_ , he thought, _I hope that didn't scare the fairy away_. Scaling the top of the rock, he discovered an empty surface.

Dejectedly, he surveyed the surrounding area from his perch. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a plastic-wrapped piece of birthday cake. A bit stale, but he didn't think the fairy would notice. Smoothing out the plastic wrap, he pushed the squashed cake toward the edge of the rock. No, he had better put the cake closer to him. Standing, he eyeballed the position of the cake. Still not liking it, he stood to move it again, a bit more to the middle. Turning, he glanced at his seat and gasped, doing a double take. There was his fairy, sitting in the spot he had just vacated.

Thumping down hard on the rock, he stared at the fairy's eyes. They made him dizzy with their pulsing golden rainbows leaving him speechless and mesmerized. Neither one moved.

"Are you a fairy?" Scotty finally demanded an answer, getting no response. "The fairies in my fairy book don't have tails. How come you do?"

He felt pressure, his mind filling with a strange aura. He stared at the fairy, who just stared back. "I am an Oolahan." Scotty heard the words whispered in his mind, the aura bright with color.

"Did you say your name was Lula?" Scotty wondered why the creature, um, Lula, hadn't moved its mouth. He'd heard it speak quite clearly. The aura and colors had formed mind words; weird.

"Do I get a wish?"

"What do you mean, young Brother?"

"My wish. Everyone gets a wish from a fairy." Scotty grew agitated. If everyone got a wish from a fairy, he wanted to make sure he got his before it disappeared again.

"Brother, I do not have a wish for you. I am here for a mission. I have chosen you. You will be The One."

_Huh?_ The boy scratched his head. He stared at Lula.

"I want to pet you, Lula." Standing, Scotty walked toward his new friend. Walking past the cake, he bent down to pick it up to give to Lula. Being the clumsy little boy he was, he tripped. Caught off balance, he crashed down, head first, rolling near the edge. Dazed, he sat up, perilously close to the drop. Still maintaining a hold on his gift to Lula, he stepped back and fell straight over the edge, landing in a broken heap on the sharp pile of rocks at the base.

The Oolahan scurried over to the edge and looked down. She saw blood, lots of blood. The boy's head sat at an unnatural angle, but she could tell he still lived. Unbidden, her tail shot up in the air, directed down at the boy. The air filled with pressure and the smell of sulfur as her tail extruded its membrane to do its miraculous work.

Unfortunately, the meeting had failed to produce the results she had hoped for. The unexpected disaster had changed everything. Sighing, the creature spun her head in frustration, trying to contain her disappointment. Lamenting the frailty of human offspring, she realized her mission must wait. Even though the boy had appeared to be a good choice, at the moment his youth disqualified him. She should measure her expectations carefully next time. Remembering the young of humans took twenty two years for their brains to mature, her mistake shamed her.

Life worked more efficiently for her species as all young were born with their birth parent's genetic memory. The fact that humans had not evolved this necessary trait was a severe disadvantage. She would love to know what the Elders had thought they were accomplishing when they handicapped this life form. A simple adjustment to their enzymes during evolution would have turned the trait on. She knew the Elders rarely made mistakes. Perhaps they had done it deliberately. She promised herself to ask the Womb.

Now, forced to rectify the situation the only way she knew, even though it might cause more problems, she must leave the boy alone. Sadly, she climbed down the rock, wobbling over to the boy. She watched his eyes flutter, bringing him back to consciousness. Hurrying, she reached out to grab the cake, still remarkably intact, clutching it tightly under her arm. She wobbled over to the cairn of rocks that marked the way to the Hive and disappeared.

*

Scotty sat up slowly. _What am I doing on the ground?_ He could feel the rough edges of the cold rocks digging into his tender skin. He picked himself up off the chilly rocks and made his way back to the glen he usually played in. Looking around, confusion made him dizzy. Shaking it off, he stretched and yawned, freakishly feeling vigorous. Deciding to return home, he wondered if Abby was back from the doctors. She was so tired of late and he needed to help move Mom's stuff from her bedroom to get ready for the Diaz family. Trudging back down the hill, he wondered what had happened to the piece of birthday cake he had taken to the woods with him.

*

Deep inside the cavern, the creature blinked her golden eyes, curled up in her chamber, golden tail wrapped protectively around her furry body as she contemplated the shrinking piece of cake in front of her. She did not take it to eat, not having that capability. Curiosity had compelled her; it had belonged to the human Brother. Maybe it would help with the sadness she felt, knowing he could have been The One. The only reason the Womb had allowed the healing was because she had caused the incident. The humane solution called for the creature to have let him die in the fall. Sadly, even though he now lived, the human would confront a troublesome road.

She ached with the knowledge that the only thing she envisioned for herself was the unremitting loneliness of passing years. Reaching out with one of her long golden leathery fingers, she stroked the tiny piece of cake and closed her eyes.

# Chapter 4

Jose hardly remembered his birthplace. At fifteen years old, his height outstripped the average teen from Costa Rica, a lush country known for its riches, lovely people and diverse topography: mountains, volcanoes, wet rainforests, dry rainforest, hot springs, mud baths, coastlines on two different oceans and rich fabulous wildlife. Unfortunately, he now lived in New Jersey with his adoptive family. A singularly ugly state of cement, asphalt, exhaust-filled highways, billboards, high security prisons, massive tenements and poverty.

He couldn't bear to think about his beautiful mother, yet he continued to torture himself with the pain, knowing he would never forget. She was found in the garden of their home in San Jose, where his father worked as a police officer.

His father had been found that morning, in his car in front of his favorite breakfast place. He stopped there every morning, without fail, on his way to the station. He just loved what they could do with a few leftovers and some fresh eggs. He knew they were fresh because he personally knew the names of the chickens in the back of the restaurant. He liked to stick his head in the backyard and say hello to the old mama that fed them. That morning, his head had been found sitting in his bloody lap, neatly detached. No one confessed to witnessing a thing.

The town, ruled by the Para Militar who had merged with the FARC from Columbia, knew survival meant silence. They used to have a mayor and a police force which enforced the law. Now, everyone answered to the drug cartels—cartels who had created their own army, the Sicario, the assassins. They wore snappy green and black uniforms and applied the laws the police used to enforce.

Of course, now the laws were full of a few kickers. And they frequently changed depending on the whims of the cartels. The country belonged to them. They controlled much of Mexico, all of Central America and most of Northern South America. Life moved on even with the cartels in charge; the mass murders of fifteen years ago well in the past. Citizens were weary of the blood spilt in almost every family. But once the cartels stepped into the breach and took power they, unsurprisingly, started to resemble the previous corrupt politicians and leaders. Some ruled through democracy, some through intimidation.

The people learned to complain in whispers and behind closed doors. The cartels never gave up their infamous habit of silencing detractors with a well-placed bullet or the more soundless stiletto. The occasional rape of a detractor's spouse or youngest daughter was also a very effective tool.

Jose wondered what had brought the Garcia family to the attention of the cartels. His poor papa knew to keep his mouth shut. His law enforcement job had evolved over the years to traffic enforcement only. He didn't even carry a gun. His parents were renowned for their generosity and well-bred gentility. They had made a very striking couple.

The hot afternoon drew to a close as he made his daily after-school stop at Senor Brooks' house. Senor Brooks lived in what used to be his best friend, Juan Bastida's, family home.

A year ago, Juan's father had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the house available for Senor Brooks to lease. He was a fine retired military man; a gringo who loved the wildlife of Jose's country. He had lived near the Garcia family for about a year, getting to know Jose very well and enjoying his company. He never minded whenever Jose stopped after school to play with his small collection of primates. In fact, he encouraged it.

Senor Brooks' collection consisted of two African vervet monkeys, a pair of howler monkeys, and a pair of white-faced monkeys. Jose loved them all. He could not get enough of their tiny wise furry faces; so vulnerable, so human and so capricious. Senor Brooks often sat and took tea with Jose as he played with the primates, asking him questions about school and sometimes commenting on Senor Brooks' past life in the United States. He told Jose how lucky he was to grow up in a country filled with such natural beauty, not spoiled and paved over as in the States. He talked of the great slums and poverty in the U.S. He often inquired into the health of his parents, noting how they never seemed to be ill—an odd remark, Jose thought in retrospect. His parents were blessed with excellent health, except for the polio his mother had contracted while pregnant with Cara.

Senor Brooks always perked up when he mentioned Jose's baby sister. At nine months old, Jose loved her desperately. From the top of her head all the way down to her tiny feet with the purple half-moon on her tiny big toe. He would actually have nightmares about their house catching on fire and his desperation to save her. The nightmares haunted him, magnifying his subconscious anxiety for her safety.

*

He did not go directly home that day. He hurried from school, walking quickly down the unpaved stone street, the burning sun sucking the moisture from anything touched by its withering rays. He turned off the intersection to the country road leading to his home.

Normally, he tried very hard to help his mama with Cara, but Senor Brooks had asked him if he wanted to hold the monkeys while he cleaned their cages; always an ordeal. But it was a nice chance to hold the monkeys and distract them with play while Senor Brooks cleaned the big ornamental metal cages. Helping Senor Brooks with the monkeys left him feeling special. He liked knowing the monkeys needed him. They were significant to him. He knew they waited for him after school. He didn't ever want to let them down. Mama and Cara would still be there when he eventually got home.

Leaving Senor Brooks' house, he arrived home about sixty minutes later than normal. He walked along the red dirt road, three houses away, scuffing his feet in the hot dust, when he saw two men emerge from the metal gate in the front yard of his home. Their demeanor appeared suspicious. One of them carried a bundle in his arms. Jose noticed black and green pants under the man's serape. Glancing up at the sun, he wondered who in their right minds would wear a serape in this weather. It could only be the black and green uniform of the dreaded Sicario.

Jose noticed they stared intently in his direction. He quickly ducked his head and looked down at his sandals, managing to observe the bundle, clearly wrapped in an afghan with a maize design and a bright turquoise border; the design original to and crafted by his mama. Jose continued walking past his house until he could no longer see the two men.

Doubling back to his home, he let himself in by the gate. He ran through the house in a panic, calling for his mama. Stepping out to the terrace, he saw his mama fast asleep on her chaise longue. Her leg, encased in the ever-present metal brace, had fallen off in the lounge, her hand draped inside Cara's baby carriage. He relaxed, relief instantly flooding his small body.

Running over to his mama he called her name, laughing and chattering on about Senor Brooks and his monkeys. Rounding his mama's chair he stopped in his tracks, his stunned eyes unable to comprehend the meaning of the thick bib of blood congealing down the front of his beautiful mama's chest, or the drying crimson slash across her throat. The same chest he remembered cuddling up to as a toddler. He would be seven years old tomorrow.

Things happened quickly after he began screaming. He remembered Senor Brooks lifting him up in his strong comforting arms. His screaming abated as he was carried into Senor Brooks' garden where the monkeys lived. Reduced to whimpering, he felt himself carried upstairs and tucked into a bed in a strange room. Senor Brooks stretched out Jose's vulnerable arm, inserting a needle. He tried to open his mouth to ask for his papa, but couldn't make his thick, sluggish tongue work. Gently, he slipped off to another universe, where his beautiful mama and Cara waited with incandescent smiles, his mama's ugly brace gone; her leg straight and healthy, alongside his handsome papa who called to him.

He heard his papa call his name again, sounding far away. He struggled to wake up, his eyelids felt loaded down with sludge. He could feel Papa helping him out of bed. He dressed slowly, his limbs insisting they belonged to someone else. Papa told him they must go to a funeral. He felt himself being carried down a staircase. He must not be at home; they had no stairs in the house. Coming to a stop, he forced his eyes to open. He recognized the garden where the monkeys lived, their cages open and the monkeys gone. I must find Senor Brooks, he thought to himself, sluggishly. Someone made off with his monkeys. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but failed.

Helpless and unaware, hands tucked him into a car and drove off. Unable to stop himself, he slept. Feeling the car halt, he woke; his sight wavy and indistinct, objects faraway as if underwater. The car door opened, a hand assisted him out. Dozens of eyes pinned him down as he struggled to stand. A priest appeared, his silent mouth moving, hands gesticulating. Jose shrank back, confused and disoriented. His eyes tried to focus on the big hole in the ground and the coffins sitting nearby. Two coffins.

He wondered who had died. Where had his papa gone? He cast his eyes down, searching for his papa's big feet in the crowd. His drooping lids identified the men that papa worked with, all tall and somber in their official uniforms, his neighbors grouped behind. He spotted Mama's lady friends, many sobbing. The urge to lie down fought with his rising panic. Noticing a coffin being lowered into the hole, he looked around for his family. Faltering, he slipped. Struggling to his feet, he screamed for his mama and papa. Hands reached out, trying to restrain him. Hope flared as Senor Brooks stepped before him, arms opened wide. He hardly felt the sudden pinprick on his neck. Gratefully, his eyes rolled back in his head as he was sucked into a deep soundless sleep.

*

Jose woke on an airplane with Senor Brooks and a splitting headache. By commercial standards, the plane looked like a mosquito, but to Jose it felt like a monstrous metal creature sporting a cold steel stomach that had somehow swallowed him up. Scanning the empty seats, he wondered where everybody was.

Turning to Senor Brooks, his sleepy voice begged to know the whereabouts of his papa. Senor Brooks calmly revealed the horror, his voice tinged with impatience.

"Jose, you know your papa and mama died in an accident. Remember the funeral? Everyone attended. Your parents' honor turned out quite a crowd. Yes, yes. So tragic, Cara too. Now we must move on and meet your new family."

"I don't want a new family. I want to go home, please." His quivery voice made no dent in the recitation of the plans Senor Brooks had made for him. As the words washed over the sound of the engines, they began to sink in. His heart tripped with panic. "I think I need to go home now, I don't feel too good."

"My boy . . . let me get you something. This will help." Passing Jose a cola, he inquired if he cared for something to eat. Jose gratefully nodded. The pretty lady who stood next to his seat returned with a wonderful lunch for them both. Jose couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

Sipping his cola, he thought it was unusually sweet. Maybe it was a different brand then the one he usually drank. Finishing his lunch he turned to his friend. "Can we please go home now?"

Senor Brooks put his arm around Jose, squeezing his shoulders. "Come on now, champ, you need to make your papa proud. He would only want the best for you. He wanted me to take you to the best place I thought you would be safe, be happy and excel. Do you know what he told me before he died? He made me promise to take you to the U.S.A. And that is exactly where we are going."

"But the U.S.A. is a bad place. You told me yourself. Bad people live there. Everyone is poor. I want to go home."

Senor Brooks didn't hear him. He picked up a magazine and began reading as if the short conversation was over.

Jose sat, silent with confusion. He was happy to be with Senor Brooks, but too much change frightened him. Where were his mama and papa? He did not believe they were dead. Had he remembered to tell Senor Brooks that someone had made off with his monkeys? Everything confused him. The United States—why would Papa want me to go so far from everything I know?

His translucent eyelids slipped heavily down. That's all he seemed to do, sleep. As he drifted off, he thought he heard the cry of an infant. It seemed to be coming from the back of the plane. Or maybe it was just an old memory. He slept soundly the rest of the way, immersed in the happy memory of Cara spitting up all over his papa as he tossed her in the air, making him and his mama laugh hysterically.

*

Jose did not adjust well to his new family. His sorrow for his own family turned to anger, leaving him a bitter shell, just going through the motions. It was especially difficult as he did not fully understand English. He had learned a little in grade school in Costa Rica, but not enough to blend in. Even though his new family was Hispanic, they did not speak the language. Spanish used to be taught in American schools, but, like most things, it had fallen to the absolute knife of budget cuts. As a result, he felt foreign and different; just what a child recovering from severe trauma did not want. He became the strange new kid in school. No friends, no real family.

In time, the shock and confusion of the days after the death of his family receded to a manageable simmer. He changed quickly from a secure happy little boy to a resentful disobedient delinquent. He refused to interact with the Diaz family, unable to establish any sort of bond with them. He ran away from their home many times. Each time, Senor Brooks tracked him down and returned him. Whenever he saw Senor Brooks, he deluged him with questions and entreaties to let him go home. Senor Brooks became less and less communicative, closing the door on any of the hope Jose had managed to hold on to.

He began to wonder at the unusual coincidence of Senor Brooks finding him every time he ran away. What about the coincidence of Senor Brooks living in the U.S. now, just like him? Jose had never received answers to any of his questions. He stopped asking to go home. Finally, the time came when Jose no longer burned with the desire to run away, and Senor Brooks disappeared from his life altogether.

Sometimes being very young has its advantages. Mother Nature gave youth an astonishing ability to heal; physically and mentally. Slowly, the traumatized young boy's natural curiosity helped draw him out of his bitter shell. He began to take comfort from the unrelenting warmth of Mama Diaz and her clan.

The Diaz family welcomed him warmly. They even agreed to adopt him. He later learned that Senor Brooks had moved the whole family to the country as a result of their agreement to take him in. Their previous home, a tenement city fraught with danger and dead end opportunity for the kids, became merely a distant memory.

It had been overwhelming at first, of course. The Diaz children treated him like a new house pet. The two girls, Emma and chubby little Bonita, aggressively staked their claim. They loved to dress him in their ragged finery, forcing him to play house. He became their prime choice, always the reluctant victim, coercing him to try their latest recipe of dirt cakes and sand scones.

The two boys, Tomas and Hiro loved having him be their third against the blacks and Muslims when they teamed up to play kick the can, touch football or water tag down at the neighborhood swimming hole. Tomas always seemed to get a bit of extra pleasure whenever Jose took some extra hard lumps, though.

Jose's life took a turn for the better when Papa Diaz brought home a surprise from his job at the fabric mill, one of the few manufacturing concerns in the county. A plum job and only achieved through the intervention of Senor Brooks, which had caused quite a bit of resentment from other disgruntled applicants on the waiting list for the next opening. Papa Diaz was an outsider, after all.

The puppy wandered onto the mill's property during a lunch break. He reeked: a sad and dirty little guy. Tight, possibly white, curly hair all but obscured his intelligent needy eyes. His long tail wagged so much and so hard it sported bald spots and painful bruises. Attracted by the smells and crumbs from the lunch crowd, he ran from person to person, begging for food. His starving body shivered with malnutrition, his ribs ready to pop through his paper-thin skin. Sores surfaced through his fur where fleabites tortured him.

At the end of the day, when the mill workers headed home from their shift, the pup lingered, trotting behind the exodus to the parking lot, his frantic tail crying, take me home, take me home. But no one responded.

By the time Papa Diaz left for home, the deserted parking lot echoed the pup's loneliness. He sat in the corner of the brick building in the weeds, shivering and discarded. As Papa Diaz came out the door he froze, desperation written on his demoralized face. Hope rose like a feather caught in the breeze, long ago discarded, now wafting forward. He sat frozen, only the hesitant motion of his eyes speaking of life as he watched Papa Diaz walk toward him. Papa Diaz stood in front of the pup as it silently looked up at him, too defeated even to beg. Bending down, he picked up the scrawny little guy, tucked him inside his overcoat and resolutely took him home.

They named him Barney. It was love at first sight for Jose. The abandoned pup's story reflected his own. He found in Barney the one thing that provided medicine to draw the poison from his psychological wounds. No longer alone, their damaged souls began to heal as they found comfort and security in each other's raw love.

*

The years passed. Jose grew, surprising everyone with his tall, lanky good looks. He became reasonably popular in school, good grades coming easily to him. But he remained shy, confiding in no one, Barney his constant companion to the exclusion of other kids. He knew Mama Diaz loved him fiercely, but worried about what she sensed at the back of his eyes. Just a small something at the end of the day as fatigue overwhelmed him. She said it looked like a hurt, or was it distrust? She made him sit with her so they could pray. With Barney at his feet, they sat at the kitchen table. With the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall, they prayed that life would be kind to him.

Late one Friday evening, after dinner, everyone gathered in the small but cozy living room. No one noticed the peeling walls or stained hardwood floors. The girls fought to sit next to Jose and Barney, and the boys pounded on each other until Mama Diaz silenced them.

"Papa Diaz has a serious announcement." Her calm voice betrayed a hitch of tension that demanded their attention better than words could hope to. In a low calm voice, eyes cast to the floor, Papa Diaz broke the news fated to change Jose's life again.

The fabric mill had announced layoffs, their margins slipping. He had received his termination papers last week. With decent paying jobs nonexistent, Papa Diaz had decided to try to jump the fence, the possibility of getting caught the only drawback. It was a felony and would mean a long jail sentence. The government and cartels of Mexico were determined to protect their jobs for their own citizens, and who could blame them?

Mama and Papa had decided to merge the family with another fatherless family in the neighborhood, and the Diaz's arranged to move into the Preston home down the hill—two families banding together to help each other so they might all survive. The thought of moving in with a new family didn't really disturb anyone. They all understood the economics. Yes, it would be a bit unusual, two different ethnic backgrounds. But in the country, far from the urban centers, that factor took on a lesser significance.

Jose knew of the family. He vaguely knew Abby Preston from school. And everyone knew her twerpy younger brother, Scotty. He could be found anywhere, lurking all over the neighborhood like the ugly unwanted kid, shut out of the candy store while everyone else lived it up on the inside; kinda sad. Not too many white kids in the neighborhood; no one for him to play with. And what the heck had happened to his head? Ick. Maybe things would change for him now that they would be moving in together. He shrugged to himself. It wasn't really his concern.

Now Abby was a different story. A little older than him, they really never spoke. A slender pretty girl, he admired her thick cinnamon hair. He remembered something about her being sick. She sure looked healthy to him; probably a rumor.

That night, as Jose lay in bed, he realized that when Papa Diaz headed back to Mexico, he would be without a male authority figure in his life again. First Papa, then Senor Brooks, then Papa Diaz. The Preston kids lacked a father too. Guess they had something in common.

Drifting off to sleep, he fought the disturbing fragments of memory following the hazy death of his family. In his dream, he tried fruitlessly to outrun the ache and insecurity of his turbulent nightmares. He cuddled Barney desperately in his sleep.

Barney woke with a whine, his own doggy dreams just as frightening. His rough sloppy tongue reached up to Jose's familiar face for reassurance. Waking, Jose gave Barney a tender kiss on his muzzle and drifted back to sleep.

# Chapter 5

# 2055 AD

Moving day had come and gone; so had Papa Diaz. The layoffs never materialized, but the dominant faction at the mill pushed him out anyway, never forgiving him for getting preferential treatment during his hiring. Since they no longer enjoyed the benevolent attention of Senor Brooks, the family knew they would sink or swim on their own. Hopefully, Papa Diaz would not get caught crossing the border.

When Mrs. Preston lost her welfare, she knew she must find a way to supplement her income or move back to public housing. The Diaz family faced the same options. Both mothers refused to do that to their kids. They all flourished in Sussex County and that was where everyone intended to stay, including Barney.

Barney made a big splash with the two Preston kids, quite the slobbering icebreaker. The Prestons had never had a pet before, only some imaginary golden fairy which the kid yakked on and on about to anyone who would listen.

They all attended the same school system. The little ones went on the school bus and Abby, Jose, Tomas and Hiro now walked to the regional high school. Abby was ready to graduate this spring. Tomas and Jose were both in their sophomore year, Hiro a freshman.

As it turned out, Abby truly was sick. It took a lot out of her family to make sure she got her dialysis every week. The whisper around the neighborhood said she would never be able to have her own family. It was a well-known fact that unless the Prestons managed to buy one of the Chinese kidneys, she would probably not make it past thirty. You couldn't tell from knowing her, though. She might be a little too slender, but she sported one of the widest smiles in school. And her generosity was just as inclusive. She made time for everyone: a smile here, a word of encouragement there; always the one to sort out disagreements at home and the first to pass on dessert if they came up short. She treated Jose like a kid brother, no more, no less.

*

Time passed uneventfully, the kids all doing fairly well in school. Abby graduated and was lucky to find a job with an Internet company doing web processing. Before long, Tomas and Jose graduated, both finding local work: Jose learning how to weld and Tomas driving a long haul truck. Hiro still needed to complete his last year of high school.

Papa Diaz found a job in Mexico. He sent home money and letters, making a big difference to the family. The letters tapered off after a few years, then so did the money. Mama Diaz confided to Mrs. Preston her suspicions about a new family. Men who had left home were well known for womanizing, even the best of them. But to reject the responsibilities of supporting the family you'd left behind in a poor country while you took off for a rich one with better opportunity? It cut deeply.

Tomas and Hiro were profoundly affected. Hiro closed down, keeping his emotions bottled up, confiding in no one. He dropped out of school, joining Mrs. Preston at her job in the grocery store. But Tomas became a hard case. He developed a real nasty edge, dissing Jose every chance he got. He started stealing supplies from the school, then disappearing for days after Mama Diaz or Mrs. Preston confronted him. He stopped contributing to the household. Everyone tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he sarcastically rejected every attempt to reach out.

Jose felt closer and closer to Abby and Scotty. The three of them all harbored insecurities; being self-described outsiders created a natural bond: Abby, because of her medical needs draining the family's resources, and Scotty, because of his secret disability. Oh, yes, Scotty hid a secret.

Tomas and Jose eventually moved out. Each had found girlfriends, Tomas moving in with his. Mama Diaz sorely missed their financial contribution, but she found a job in a local restaurant. Things were not too God awful. Emma and chubby Bonita, who now insisted on being called Bonnie, grew up; ready for high school. Life had actually been kind to the blended family, everyone growing up safely with a decent roof over their heads. Now that Tomas no longer lived with them, they found the tension in the house over his antics evaporate and laughter crept back into their lives.

The only problem now, was sixteen-year-old Scotty. The last few years found him developing some unusual behaviors. He became very withdrawn and secretive, although a miracle manifested in his lazy eye and skin conditions. The bald spots on his ringworm scars began to grow hair in an unusual glowing blond. His lazy eye stopped wandering and his impetigo scars disappeared. Under the circumstances, he should have been wild with joy. Tragically, he hardly noticed.

*

Scotty moved into the bedroom with Hiro after Tomas and Jose moved out. He currently suffered his misery alone; face down on his messy bed, waiting for Hiro to return from work with Scotty's mother. He rolled over onto his back, wracked with the apprehension and distress that had become his constant companions since the beginning of the growth of his tail. Yeah, that's right. A tail. Not a small one either. At the same time as his tail had begun to grow, he started his growth spurt; so sudden and remarkable that his bones constantly ached, especially the back of his shoulder blades. Now, he measured a full six feet tall. And his tail? The same length: six feet of golden muscle and fur. Fur. He balled his fists tightly, anger and fear fighting to overwhelm him.

He concealed his new tail by winding it around his torso under his shirt, the expanding bulbous end presenting little problem as he forced it to flatten against his abdomen. The gold sheen developing in his eyes presented a dicey dilemma. The danger of intrusive questions was the most pronounced when he stood in the sun. As a result, he stayed inside during the day. He only went outside when he was sure he would be alone, which, by the way, was most of the time. Strangely, he often felt compelled to go outside. He yearned for the sun, a new effect that energized him.

He no longer ate food like the rest of the family. His mom noticed but let it go, not commenting. He pretended the concern in her eyes wasn't for him. Hopefully, she chalked up his behavior to normal teenage angst. He covered by pushing his food around on his plate, feeding his dinner to his new bud, Barney. When Jose moved out, he left the poor dog behind, making Scotty promise to take care of him. Funny how much comfort Barney brought him.

He missed Jose immensely. Jose had eventually told Scotty most of his family history over the years. It made Scotty feel small as he compared his own nasty problems with his father who had disappeared, thankfully, nine years ago, to Jose's story of tragedy. They grew very close. Jose took on a big brother role with Scotty, inadvertently enabling him to better weather the physiological shock when his tail began to grow.

It had started with constant soreness, then swelling and finally breakthrough growth. He didn't mention it to his mom because he knew they didn't have money for doctors anyway, Abby's treatments were only barely affordable. He hoped it would resolve itself on its own. When it became clear that something was actually growing, he thought it might develop into cancer—a scary fatal cancer. He watched fearfully as it developed quickly into its present form, finally fascinating him. He became very secretive. Even though clearly a freak, he didn't want to be labeled again, still smarting from childhood taunts that had left psychological scabs on his vanished scars, too easily picked open.

What disturbed him the most? The big why. Why him? Why now? Maybe an infection? Was it evolution run amok? And shock of all shocks, he couldn't get over the fact that the tail felt completely natural. He could move it at will. He liked it. And that scared him the most.

# Chapter 6

# 2056 AD

As time moved on, Scotty ached to confide in someone. His life felt like an emotional roller coaster. He vacillated between fear and depression, frustration and insecurity. And pride, can't forget that. If he outed himself, someone might tell him his tail must be removed or put him on display. He felt like a freak; the kind of freak that might send the authorities slobbering to get a chance to study him and steal his paltry life with its insignificant pleasures.

So he decided to keep secret the horrific changes his body continued to produce. Even the hair that grew back through his ringworm scars looked different. Abby teased him, saying the bleached blond look didn't really work with his dark hair color. He tried to pass it off as the latest style at school, although it was more blond now than anything else. He almost didn't recognize himself in the mirror.

The kids at school sure noticed. He couldn't fail to notice the whispers behind his back, the fingers pointing in the hallways, the garbage dumped in his locker or the crude comments written on the blackboards; probably because of his eye. It no longer wandered. It stayed centered just like his other eye. Abby and his mom were stumped but very happy for him. Maybe in time the kids would stop singling him out and want to be friends. Sighing, he prayed that when he got older, maybe then he could confess and seek help without fear.

He did have another thought, totally ridiculous of course, lodged in the back of his mind, gnawing away like a wolf cub cutting its baby teeth on its first bone. As a child, he had played in the woods constantly. He vaguely remembered an incident involving some kind of traumatic experience in the woods. Mostly because his mother laughingly told him something must have happened.

His seventh birthday; the day he wished his father dead. He remembered that part clearly. He remembered running off to the woods and falling asleep on top of a huge rock. Things got fuzzy from there, but he knew he had left the woods with a very valuable gold coin. Abby remembered a fanciful story of meeting a golden fairy. He cringed when he thought about how much of an idiot he had sounded. He knew he hadn't met a fairy, duh. Just the mention of it embarrassed him. God knew what he might have said as a kid. Nonetheless, he did have an impression of talking to someone. And he remembered having dreams about a golden glow, perhaps eyes? All very nebulous and confusing. His changes had begun sometime after that.

He sighed. Sliding off the bed, he pulled open his bottom dresser drawer where he kept his treasures. Taking out a tiny wooden box, he opened the lock and pulled out the gold coin. His mother had decided they would save it for Scotty's college studies. The coin would provide more than enough money to give him an education; almost unheard of for the likes of him. His mama understandably put all her hopes for a better life on Scotty. She thought he stood a good chance of succeeding. No one dared to fantasize about Abby's future. They all knew the chances of her living a normal lifespan. Slim to none.

Scotty wanted to use the coin to buy a new kidney for Abby, but they discovered on the Internet that a kidney could cost over $200,000. The coin was only worth a little over half that. Abby cried over Scotty's generosity, refusing to take anything from him that would compromise his own chance for a future. He remembered the pitiful look on her face. Abby wouldn't be in such a jam if he or his mom were a tissue match. They'd learned a long time ago how to deal with that disappointment.

The clock said it was time for his mother and Hiro to come home from the grocery. He liked to put the kettle on for them so she could relax her legs and catch up with Scotty about his day. When he was a kid, he liked to rub the leg with the brace, hoping he could make it all better. The memories were silly, he knew, but he loved his mom, so there you have it.

He put on his shoes and walked out to the living room where Barney lay relaxing his old bones. He tipped his head off the floor in greeting, his tail thumping its own special hello. Scotty slid down to the worn green carpet, wrapping Barney up in a big hug, always a loyal and happy-go-lucky member of their extended family.

He had never caused a lick of trouble, except for one odd day a couple of years back. Barney had come home from his morning run to show Scotty his underbelly cut open and leaking blood. Somehow, he had walked over something sharp which had slit him open. His mom rushed Barney to the front porch to stop him bleeding everywhere. While she ran to find Jose to drive her to the vet, Barney took off. Discovering him missing, Jose reassured everyone that he would find their injured mutt and raced after him, following his bloody trail.

Jose and Barney were gone for hours. Emma and Bonnie refused to go to school until Barney returned home. So Scotty stayed home to wait while his mom went off to work with Mama Diaz, leaving her old Dodge behind so Jose could get to the vet's office. Finally, after four hours, they both returned. Jose looked kinda weird, a blank expression in his eyes. Barney acted like he had just discovered he was the sole dog in bunny rabbit heaven. And there was no blood, no sign of a cut, nothing; only blissful Barney wanting to jump in everyone's lap and demanding his share of doggy love.

Without explanation, Jose yelled at them to get their schoolbooks and off they went, even though only two hours remained of the school day. One look at Jose's stormy face shut everyone up. No mention of the incident ever came up again. No one cared anyway, since Barney behaved better than ever and that's all that mattered. And not having a big vet's bill to pay, of course.

Scotty looked again at the clock which relentlessly proclaimed it to be past his bedtime. Where was his mother? She was really late now. He decided not to wait up. Taking Barney out for a potty break, he glanced balefully up the hill toward the enigmatic woods from his childhood. Could he find a clue in the woods to this strange transformation that had gripped him? Just rocks and trees and creatures, he thought, nothing sinister. Although in the dark, the woods looked unwelcoming and dangerous. He didn't lack for imagination.

Whistling for Barney, he took him back inside the house. Shaking off a premonition, he gave the woods a last glance. Peeking in the kitchen, he noticed everyone had gone to bed. There was still no sign of his mother or Hiro. He probably got stuck late stocking shelves. Mom would have to wait for him, unfortunately.

Scotty slept the deep sleep of youth, dreaming of the soapbox derby car Jose had built for him when he turned ten. A well-known klutz with tools, Jose had taught him how to use a hammer. He could still hear the two of them banging on the car while Tomas and Hiro mocked them, threatening to tear it apart. And banging and banging.

The noise jerked him from his slumber. Annoyed and groggy, he opened his eyes, realizing someone was banging on his bedroom door. Throwing back the blanket, he glanced over at Hiro's bed; still empty. His alarm said 3 a.m.

"Scotty, wake up."

More pounding; it sounded like Abby. Yawning, he pulled open the door and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grumbling. Abby stood there with a frayed sweater thrown over her pajamas. She was wearing her worn sneakers and held her ratty blue jacket in her hands, her face colorless and tear stained. Scotty grabbed her hands.

"Abby, what's wrong? Abby."

She looked beseechingly into his eyes, silently begging for help. "Hiro . . . he's dead," she whispered.

"What?" Shaking Abby hard, his heart thudding, he screamed, "Where's Mom?"

"She's at the hospital. They said she's hurt. They haven't even checked her in yet. She's been there since last night. We have to get over there."

"What happened? What happened to Hiro? Where is he?"

"It was an accident. I don't know any more than that. Let's go."

Grabbing a pair of jeans, Scotty slipped them on over his pajamas, pulling a shirt down over his top. Grabbing his smelly sneakers, he ran barefoot out the door behind Abby. Mama Diaz waited in the driveway, trembling. Her fingers danced wildly over her rosary, uncombed hair streaming down her back, bedroom slippers still on her feet. Abby coaxed her into her old Ford, the agonizing drive to the hospital a nightmare of desperate prayers and anguished promises to God from the back seat.

Arriving at the hospital, they parked, maneuvering around the crowd congregating near the emergency room. The line snaked out the door. Lucky 'emergencies' with appointments used the exclusive door. Scanning the crowd, they spotted Jose running toward them. He took his mama in his arms. She broke down completely, emotionally debilitated.

"My baby boy, my Hiro," she sobbed. "God, why did you rip out my heart?"

"She shouldn't have come." Jose softly kissed the top of his grieving mama's head. "There is nothing she can do. Hiro was killed instantly. A tractor trailer—it clipped their car and kept on going. They ran off the road into a tree, head on." Glancing over at Abby, he evasively refused to meet her eyes. Kissing his mama again, he hesitantly took Abby's hands in his.

"Jose, where's Mom?" Abby looked up into his eyes, hope slowly shredding. Jose shook his head, hot tears spilling over. Abby whimpered.

"Jose, where is she?" Scotty's voice crackled with knowing pain. Jose folded them both into his big arms. They understood what he couldn't say.

Shocked, dazed and in denial, they returned to the Ford. Jose handled the minutiae of paperwork while they waited, silently railing at God's unfairness.

Mama Diaz took care of breaking the news to Bonnie and Emma. They squirmed incessantly, scared and not too young to wonder how the deaths would affect their lives.

Jose called Tomas and broke the news to him. He came to the house as soon as possible, bringing his girlfriend Kelly and unnecessary tension with him. Tomas sat in the living room, conferring with his mother in whispers. Jose, Abby and Scotty sat at the kitchen table looking glumly at one other. From time to time, Jose answered the phone, pausing to ask Abby a question, updating Mama Diaz.

Eventually, all the funeral details fell into place and quiet blanketed the house. Scotty sat in a fog, picking at a sandwich, feeding pieces to Barney. He absently noticed Bonnie surreptitiously feeding Barney under the table and made a note to cut down on Barney's chow. He already looked like a giant white sausage ready to explode.

Looking up, he noticed the whispering. Jose and Abby were in the corner, his arms around her, her tearful face pressed into his shoulder as he whispered in her ear. Emma and Bonnie sat curled up on the sofa, fearful eyes darting from one adult to another.

Finally, everyone gathered around the table. Mama Diaz cleared her throat. She looked first at Jose, then Tomas, giving him a slow sad nod. Tomas stood, looking around the table.

"We've all been together for years. And they've been good years, but we need to make some changes now." Looking at Abby and Scotty, he lowered his voice. "Mama will be taking the girls and moving in with Kelly and me. We were thinking of getting married anyway. Mama's job at the restaurant and the money Abby makes would not be enough to support all of you. Abby's money has to go for her treatments anyway."

"So, Scotty and I will be here alone?" asked Abby.

"No, Abby, I'm moving in. I can pay for the house and anything else that we need," said Jose.

Abby flushed as Jose looked at her.

Scotty looked from face to face. They all looked tense and stressed. There was nothing worse than the death of a family member, but two members? Catastrophic. He pounded on the table, jumped up and ran into his bedroom, returning with his little wooden box.

Slapping the box on the table he shouted, "No. We are not splitting up! Mom and Hiro wouldn't want that." He blew his nose as Jose picked up the box and took out the gold coin. His face looked grim and determined.

"Scotty, that coin is for your education. We can take care of this without cashing it in. It's time for some changes anyway. Come on, kid, let's you and I take Barney out for a walk. We can talk."

"No," he mumbled, gruffly. "I want Mom back. You can't try to take her place." Throwing his coin across the room, he burst into tears and ran out of the front door. Abby got up from her seat to go to him and then thought better of it, wearily sitting back down.

*

"Scotty's just reverting to little boy behavior because he's lost Mom and Hiro. Better to leave him alone for a while. He's running off just like he used to as a kid. He'll come home when he's ready." Slipping her arm around Mama Diaz, she looked up at Jose. "Maybe you should go after him if he's not back before dark. Take Barney with you, okay?"

Nodding his agreement, Jose watched as she went to the sofa to hug Emma and Bonnie. She stood, looking at Tomas who hovered, sending loaded glances her way. He held out his arms for a hug, expectation on his face. Abby ignored him and slipped off to bed, her exhaustion weighing her down. Tomas started after her but, realizing everyone was staring, sat back down.

# Chapter 7

Scotty ran blindly into the wood, his eyes swollen with tears and anger, instinct taking him through the magic glens of his childhood to the big granite rock that played a role in the fragmented memories of his past. He recognized the toeholds on the side of the rock that he had struggled with as a child. Ruefully, he realized he now need only give himself a big boost and he would be on top. The shallow depression in the top of the rock beckoned. It was only large enough for his butt now, though. Sitting in the depression, he crossed his arms on his knees and lowered his head. His tears fell warm and silent as he tried to come to grips with his loss.

As his tears slowed, he felt a numbness protectively insinuate itself throughout his body. His tears dried. He knew nothing could change what had happened, it was just another thing to live with. His bitterness accentuated the lack of control in his life.

Like his preposterous tail. Letting it unfurl from underneath his shirt, he flexed. It felt good to give it a little exercise. He looked at it critically. His guilty feeling of pride mystified him. How could he feel this way when he knew it made him a freak? He wished he had been able to talk to his mother about it. Nah—that would have just messed with her head. Sighing, he turned his face up to the waning sun as it peeked through the branches of oak and elm trees. His eyes caught a sunbeam as it unexpectedly exploded with golden rainbows. He blinked, lowering his head to find himself staring into the same rainbow eyes of his boyhood fairy creature.

Scotty froze, so shocked he couldn't move. He just stared. Then carefully he inched on his butt to the edge of the rock. The creature just stood there, silent, staring back at him. Scotty's nerves spasmed convulsively—the silence incendiary. Watching the creature, he awkwardly lifted his hand and broke the silence.

"Hi."

No reaction. Maybe the creature couldn't talk. Maybe he barked or mewed. He did kinda resemble a cat or something. No, on second thought . . . not with those long leathery fingers and horns, definitely not a cat. To be sure, Scotty said, "Meow?" Nothing. What if he tried barking? The creature's fragile horns resembled cut glass, sending mesmerizing refracted rainbows, generated by sunlight, spinning and tumbling off the tree trunks as it breathed.

"I see you found Echo."

Startled, Scotty looked down, surprised by none other than Jose and Barney. Barney stood wagging his tail so hard it looked like his tail was wagging his head. The creature turned and took an amazing flying leap, landing in Jose's arms.

"What the heck is going on here?" Scotty demanded angrily. He stood with his tail swirling around him. He quickly turned away in embarrassment while it tucked itself away under his shirt. Turning back, his jaw dropped as Jose lifted his own shirt, unfurling a glimmering golden tail of his own.

"I don't . . ." Scotty paused, confounded. "I don't get it. What's going on here?" His voice cracked, on the verge of hysteria. Unexpectedly, his mind sensed a foreign pressure, a hovering aura.

"You are both my Brothers now." A calming disembodied whisper hung somewhere in the air. Scotty looked around, bewildered.

"That's Echo. She doesn't talk the way we do. I named her Echo because I hear her in my mind, just like you do." Jose's matter-of-fact statement grabbed Scotty's attention, holding him back from freaking out. Placing Echo back on the rock, Jose boosted himself up and called to Barney to join them. Leaping up, Barney snuggled up to Echo who promptly climbed onto his back and sat there.

"Are you kidding me, dude? I cannot be seeing this." Incredulous, Scotty looked from Jose to Barney to Echo. "She? It's real?"

"Yes, Scotty, she's real." Flicking his tail toward Scotty, he added, "And this is real, just like yours."

"We're the same?" Breaking down, he climbed down from the rock and flung himself into Jose's arms, crying the healing tears which would say goodbye to his childhood and start him on the path to manhood. He no longer felt alone. He didn't know what the heck had happened to him years ago, but now he knew he could count on Jose's support and guidance.

Once Scotty had calmed down, Jose related the details of the first time he had met Echo.

"I'm sure you've gathered that I'm too old to be playing in the woods. Well, I can thank good old Barney here. He decided he needed to be in the woods. Here at this rock as a matter of fact.

"Do you remember a few years back when Barney came home with his stomach split open and he got away from us before we could get him to the vet? That's the day. I tracked Barney up the hill fairly easily. When he cut into the woods I almost lost him. He still dripped blood, but I was losing the light. With all his blood loss, I couldn't see how he kept going. I finally tracked him here, but I couldn't find him. See over there?" Jose pointed to a cairn of stone that Scotty recognized as where he had found his gold coin so long ago.

"I found some spots of blood over there, but couldn't see where Barney had disappeared to. Then I noticed a spot of blood up against this wall, hidden around back of all the stones. It looked like Barney had just disappeared into the wall. Not only that, but the spot of blood looked like it had been cut in half by the positioning of the wall. So I took my hand—and you are not going to believe this, but I touched the stone and my hand went right through it. It felt all wet and gooey. When I pulled my hand back out, damn if it wasn't completely dry."

"Brother, I could feel you when you touched the Womb." Scotty heard Echo's whisper to Jose, the now golden aura still evident.

"Uh, Echo, what do you mean, the Womb?" Scotty asked timidly.

"We always have a portion of the Womb to travel with. It is part of the Exalted Womb that remains back home on Oolaha. We cannot live without it. It is like your mother and father on this planet. It feeds us, maintains us, protects us, and informs us. I was plugged into the Womb when you put your hand through it. I felt you when you walked through, just like my Barney did." Echo reached down to stroke Barney's head. She wrapped her leathery golden hands around Barney's neck. If Barney could purr, he would purr. If Echo could purr, for that matter, it appeared she would do so, too.

"Your Barney?" Scotty questioned with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, they have a thing going." Jose laughed—a joyful sound to Scotty.

"But what happened after you entered the uh, womb? And what about our tails? What do they mean? And what—?"

"Hold on, hold on. I know you have a hundred questions. And I know what you've been going through. I've dealt with the same thing. I just had the advantage of knowing more about the situation than you, so I didn't go through the panic you probably did. It's amazing you were able to keep this quiet for so long. Weren't you just a little boy? I sure wish I'd known, champ, I could've helped. Some of the info I'm going to give you will knock your socks off. I don't know everything, but I'll fill you in as much as I can."

Jose related his adventure, crossing through the Womb, finding himself in an enormous cavern. Walking to one side, he had examined the wall, his hand feeling warmth and pliancy. It too, had felt wet and gooey as his hand sank into it. And, no surprise, bone dry after he withdrew it. The cavern reflected illumination, although Jose couldn't see how.

As he had walked deeper into the cavern, he felt himself descend, although the temperature remained a constant mild coolness. The occasional drop of blood marked Barney's path. Jose had walked for about an hour, beginning to get nervous. Pathways opened, shooting off in all directions. The thought of becoming lost raised goosebumps on his arms, but his love and concern for Barney had forced him to press on.

He had soon come to a chamber carved out of the cavern wall, like a private room. Entering the chamber, he had finally located Barney, lying on his side, in a corner. Looking closely, he had been able to see that Barney's intestines protruded from his stomach, the wound now deep and profound.

In shock and sorrow, he had bent down to pick up his dog. Barney had flinched, finding enough energy to clamp down on Jose's fingers, out of his mind with pain, severing the thumb. Jose dropped the fatally injured Barney, scooting away on his butt, cursing himself. Any idiot knows not to touch a severely injured dog when it's in pain. Damn, did it ever hurt. Tears sprang to his eyes from the agonizing pain, blood spurting like a faucet, his head swimming with fogginess. Barney had laid his head back down, as if waiting for death, sorrowful guilty eyes awash in shock.

Out of nowhere, he had felt pressure and noticed a new smell. Sulfur? Looking around, he had seen the most bewitching sight on a ledge, overlooked in his concern for Barney. Yup—Echo—mind blowing, even as his pain had overwhelmed him. He had watched as her glorious tail lingered up in the air over her head. From the end of the tail had come the weirdest mother-effing blob of something. He had felt pressure and tingling in his hand and held it up, doing a double-take as he realized his thumb was no longer missing. A flash of rainbow color had seared his vision, briefly blinding him. As his vision had cleared, a barking Barney stood up on all fours. Yes; on all fours, his tail swinging wildly.

Barney had padded over to Jose, jumping up and putting his paws on his shoulders. He had licked Jose's face, and then loped over to the ledge where Echo sat. His face had turned up to Echo, whining softly. Echo had stood and scaled down the wall, her skinny body with its fat stomach strikingly graceful. She had approached Barney, tentatively touching his muzzle with a long skinny finger as Barney's tongue had reached out to give Echo's finger an exploratory slurp. Together, they had promptly flopped down on the floor and curled up together, kinship clearly established. The pressure and aura had intruded into his mind, whispering the first words from Echo.

"Hello, Brother, I am Sister and I am so happy to see you."

Jose took a break from his story. Scotty noticed he absently stroked his tail.

"Echo neglected to tell me about the tail on our first meeting. I discovered it on my own, just as you did. Quite a shock, huh?"

Continuing the story, he acknowledged the many meetings he had held with Echo. He had planned to make this meeting the last one, desperate to introduce Echo to Abby. If Echo could heal her, all their problems would be solved. But the discovery of Scotty and his tail changed everything, and he wanted Echo to come and live with them. As soon as the funerals were over and they moved Mama Diaz to Tomas and Kelly's house, they would come back to the cavern and bring her home. Auras enveloped their minds.

"Sister will live with her Brothers. My Barney will live with us too?"

"Yes, Echo," Jose said, laughing. "We'll all live together. Once we get settled, we'll talk again. We need to know all there is to know about our tails. Scotty, can you wait until we bring Echo home to deal with this?"

Yawning, Scotty agreed. They had come this far, a few days more wouldn't kill them. A seventeen-year-old boy needs lots of sleep and he wanted to crash. Now that Jose was on the job, most of his anxieties simply disappeared, just like krill at a whale convention. Looking over at Echo, he marveled at the fact that his boyhood fairy was wilder than he could possibly dream. It occurred to him that no one would ever believe this. He noticed Echo poking her leathery finger around inside Barney's ear, who turned around and wiped Echo's face with his sloppy tongue. Echo spun her head around a hundred and eighty degrees before it snapped back, then Echo's feet and hands flew up in the air, rocking her back on her bottom. Auras flashed with gold and rainbow colors as Scotty wondered if Echo could communicate with Barney. He watched as the leathery arms snaked around the delirious dog's neck, holding tight. Yup, I guess Echo's right. Barney belongs to her. An interesting development. Echo sure appeared as harmless as a house pet.

Their trek back home proceeded uneventfully, although it cost them extra time to explain to Echo why Barney couldn't stay with her in the cavern. Her answer to all of their objections: The Womb will provide. Ick. The guys decided they didn't want to know more about the Womb just yet. Telling Echo they needed Barney for guard-dog duty satisfied her, although she quickly pointed out that the Womb would guard them too. Lovely, Scotty thought. Yup, time to go.

# Chapter 8

Organized chaos reigned at Lily Pond Road. The whole neighborhood turned out with cakes, deviled eggs, casseroles and sandwiches. Even neighbors who had never said boo once in the many years they had lived there, brought goodies to the house. The Preston and Diaz families felt honored and grateful, knowing full well their neighbors had little to spare.

The turnout for the funerals impressed everyone. Abby hadn't realized her mama's life had touched so many others. Of course, when a youth is lost, many turn out to lament the sadness. And the whole grocery showed up, having lost two popular employees.

The demands on Abby were extraordinary, having missed a vital treatment so she could attend the funeral. She played the gracious hostess, compassionate nursemaid and proficient housekeeper as she tried to mourn her mother's passing.

Her harried tasks didn't prevent her from noticing the strange behavior of Scotty and Jose. She frequently noticed their heads together, speaking in cryptic whispers, hushing as she passed to clean around them. What could possibly merit this show of male skullduggery?

Abby supported anything that helped Scotty out of the adolescent sulking that dominated his personality these days, but their behavior irritated her. And what the heck was with the sunglasses—a new fad perhaps?

She wasn't worried though. She knew the quiet responsible Jose would be a good influence. God knew she could use the help with Scotty. Her eyes lingered on Jose's wide shoulders as his hand reached up to rake back his unruly black and gold hair with masculine fingers. Gold? Not an attractive combo. Why the strange hairdo? It almost looked like he wanted to follow in Scotty's footsteps. Someone should tell him the color combination just made him look older.

She knew nothing about seventeen-year-old boys, especially her own secretive brother. She didn't date at all and had very little exposure as to how the male of the species worked romantically. _Gee, where did that come from? Why think about that now?_

Unable to stop this train of thought, she reflected on how most guys shied away from her when they found out about her kidney disease. Her classmates had labeled her 'the sick girl', __ not intentionally meaning to be cruel. By the time most girls reached their late twenties, falling in and out of love had become a habit. Unfortunately, Abby's experience in the romance department sucked. She longed to have an innocent flirtation with a boy. Or a not so innocent one.

The only guys that had ever paid attention to her were Jose, Tomas and Hiro. But they hardly counted. Sighing, she pulled her thick reddish-brown hair back, securing it with an elastic band. Sinking her hands into hot soapy water, she began to wash the dishes.

The guests finally departed. Mama Diaz fussed, almost ready to leave with Tomas and the girls. They had gathered their things last night and laboriously trucked them over to Tomas and Kelly's house. When they returned, Mama Diaz looked stern and tight-lipped. When Abby tried to question her, she raised her hand to her head, cutting her off. A puzzled Abby, distracted by the funeral preparations, decided to let it go.

Coming up behind her at the sink, Mama Diaz rested her tired head on Abby's shoulder. Abby's sudsy hands slipped around the older woman's waist.

"Please don't go, I don't think it's necessary. The girls should stay here until they finish school."

Mama Diaz reluctantly shook her head. "I don't know, Abby. Tomas's mind is made up. He's the man of the family now. He insists. Kelly is a bit intense, maybe, don't you think?" She began to whisper as she spoke. "Have you met her brother, Armoni? Oh, my dear, he's a troubled young man." She made the sign of the cross.

"What do you mean, Mama? What's wrong with Kelly's brother?"

Tomas walked into the room, his hand clapping down heavily on his mother's arm. "Let's go, Ma." Turning, he gave Abby a suggestive wink. Freezing him with a cool gaze, she deliberately turned back to Mama Diaz.

"Please call me when you get settled." Abby sounded frantic. Mama Diaz placed her worn hands on Abby's face, dabbing her fingers at the lonely tears that tumbled from her desolate eyes. Turning, she reached for her shopworn handbag, fraying at the seams from years of containing the minutia of growing children. She kissed Abby goodbye and allowed Tomas to lead her to the door.

Leaving everyone to settle themselves in the car, Tomas slipped back to the front door, oddly loitering. Abby stood holding the door, waiting for him to leave. He hesitated, then wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, placing the other on her butt and roughly kissing her. She couldn't breathe as she struggled in his embrace. Squirming away, she slapped him. They both looked shocked and speechless. Tomas stared at her, saying nothing. His lips twisted into a sneer and a disturbing glint crept into his eyes. Leaving, he gave her breast a rough brush and sauntered out the door.

Two seconds later, Jose and Scotty entered, conspiratorial faces shining. Scotty held something protectively in his arms, wrapped in a shaggy yellow blanket. He went right to his room with the bundle, leaving her alone with Jose who eyed her suspiciously. He took a deeper look at her and knew something was wrong.

"Abby?" He eyed her disheveled appearance, the look on his face unexpectedly tender.

She turned to him, her angry eyes fighting back tears. She just couldn't find the words to explain. Shaking her head slowly, a few tired tears trickled down her angry face. Flopping down on the sofa that had sheltered a thousand tantrums and childish battles, she collapsed.

"Abby, are you going to answer me?" Jose moved to the sofa and picked up her hands. Her face fell. Softly, Jose rubbed her temples, gently massaging as he turned her face up.

"Abby, tell me," he whispered, his eyes searching her face. Making up her mind, she haltingly related what had happened, omitting Tomas's name.

"What? You've got to be kidding me." Jose jumped to his feet and paced. "He had the balls to do this to you in our house, after a funeral? _I don't believe it_." He pounded the palm of his hand with his fist. Angrily, he asked, "Who is the bastard? Just tell me. I'll take care of this." Looking up, he saw Scotty return from his bedroom.

"Hey, what's going on?" Looking from face to face, Scotty waited for an answer. Jose glanced up.

"Is Echo okay?"

"Yeah, she'll stay put until we need her."

Abby looked from one to the other. "What? Who's Echo?"

"Never mind. Abby, you have something you need to tell me."

Looking into each other's eyes, she nodded her head and whispered, "Tomas."

" _What—_ that bastard?" He jumped to his feet. "I'm not surprised."

Startled, Abby put her hands out to catch him. "What do you mean you're not surprised, Jose?" Charging to the door, he slammed out of the house and noisily tore down the road, the exhaust on his old red truck pouring gray-white smoke. Shaking her head and sighing sadly, Abby shut the door and returned to the sofa. She pulled her feet up under her, feeling as broken and limp as the sofa looked.

"We don't need this right now." Abby rested her head on the sofa, her eyes bruised from fatigue. Scotty joined her, flopping down softly.

"Holy mackerel, what's that all about? Does it have anything to do with Tomas?"

"Scotty, do you know something about Tomas that I should know?"

"Uh, not really Abby. Although I've heard a few things. I never mentioned anything because it didn't affect us, not now that he lives with Kelly and her weirdo brother."

"Her brother? This is the first I've heard anything about a brother. How come? Does Mama Diaz know about him? Is her brother this Armoni? And what does that have to do with Tomas's inappropriate behavior?"

"I don't know, Abby, what'd he do?" Abby could not tell her little brother the particulars of the incident. Changing the subject, she asked him about the blanket he had brought into the house.

Abby laughed as Scotty jumped up, dancing from foot to foot. His eyes flashed, his face shinning.

"Abs, we have the most amazing surprise for you, but we have to wait for Jose."

"Okay, champ, but maybe it can wait for tomorrow. I'm very happy about anything that'll put a smile on your face, but . . ." Her voice fading, she rose unsteadily to her feet. "I don't think I have the strength. Tomorrow, I need to get to the dialysis center first thing in the morning." Her voice trailed off to a hoarse whisper. Her head throbbing, she walked toward the bedrooms and promptly fainted.

*

" _Abby!_ " Scotty screamed. Without noticing or even thinking, his tail unfurled from underneath his shirt. It stood straight up in the air like a recently promoted soldier, arching over the top of his head and pointing toward Abby. From the bulbous end of his tail came a monstrous, disgusting, membranous, _thing_ that opened up to exude the smell of sulfur. He could feel a numbing pressure. Then, suddenly, it stopped. He started to shake as his tail tucked itself back under his shirt. Praying for Jose to come home, he closed his eyes.

Hearing a small whine, he opened his eyes to see Barney standing in front of him, happily wagging his tail. Astride his back sat Echo, calmly behaving as if she owned the place. Her long leathery fingers locked tight around Barney, her little swivel neck bobbing up and down.

"Oh boy, Jose better get home. There's going to be fireworks." Seeing Abby move on the floor, a dead rag doll come to life, he ran to her side. Rubbing her hands, he tried to get her blood moving faster. He needed her to get up and tell him what to do.

The front door rattled open. Relieved, Scotty turned to see Jose, anxiety written all over his face. He took in the scene, starting at Echo's presence on top of Barney with Abby crumpled and wilted on the floor. He sniffed, catching the left over scent of sulfur.

"You did it—without me? Echo—I thought we would do this together?" Swirling rainbows coalesced, an aura in their minds.

"We have a new Sister. Now there are four of us. Is this what you call a family, Brother?"

Jose and Scotty answered together, "Yes, Echo."

Jose grimaced, bracing Abby from behind to get her head off the scuffed floor. "Echo, are you speaking to all of us at the same time?"

"Yes, Brother."

"It would be so much easier if you would use our names. Could you do this?"

"Yes, Brother. Brother Jose, Brother Scotty, Sister Abby. Oh, I like that. Can I call myself Sister Echo, Brother Jose? Should we call my Barney, Brother Barney? No, Barney is not our Brother, he is just my Barney. My Barney. I like that. I will call him My Barney."

"Echo," Jose tried to interrupt. The rainbow aura kept going on and on about My Barney, who sat on the sofa with Echo clinging tightly.

" _Echo._ " He tried again. The rainbows stopped. Echo stared at Abby, who rose unsteadily from the floor. With her hand to her mouth, she stared at Echo, then at Scotty and Jose and back to Echo.

"Am I going out of my mind? I don't think I can take much more." She sniffed the air, noticing the scent. "Someone had better start making sense real soon or I'm going to go mad." Rainbows swirled.

"Hello, Sister Abby. I am Sister Echo."

Shrinking back, Abby stared at the little golden creature and trembled.

"What is this?" The look on her face was one of stark disbelief. _She's going to blow if we don't do some explaining fast,_ Scotty realized _._

"It's all okay." Stroking Abby's arms softly, Jose tried to keep her calm. Turning to Scotty, he said, "Look guys, we have some explaining to do. This is not how we planned this, Echo, so let me handle it. Abby . . . look at me." She stared blankly into his eyes, as if he wasn't there.

"Abby." Jose shook her. "How do you feel?" He spoke more softly, an expectant smile on his face.

"I feel perfectly fine, thank you." She still looked confused and frightened. Slowly, the significance of her words sank in. Jose grabbed her, lifting her off her feet in a hug, a happy tear tracing down his face.

"You're healed, Abby. It's a gift from Echo." Scotty jumped up, joining them in the hug. Barney flopped off the sofa, dumping Echo from his back. His joyful barking added to the celebration. Then little Echo righted herself and wobbled her way over to the huddle, trying to squeeze her way in.

Joyfully, Scotty grabbed Echo and tossed her in the air, catching her in a bear hug. All Abby could do was sit back down dumbly on the floor.

When the laughter settled down and everyone sobered up, they gathered around their cheap kitchen table to talk. There was so much to talk about, so much to explain to Abby.

Lifting Echo up onto the table, Jose stroked her golden head.

"You're amazing, girl."

Echo's gleaming antlers reflected light from the ceiling fixture, making them sparkle like crystal. Scotty wondered when Echo might trust them enough to tell them more of her history. And this mystery mission she was on. But Echo was not the kind of creature you could ask questions of, head on. Sometimes speaking to Echo was like speaking to a child. They were on different wavelengths. Maybe Abby could do better over time. Females bonded differently; maybe it would make a difference.

"Okay, handling the nastiest first, I would like to explain the problem with Tomas. Abby, Tomas has this thing for you. He's had it since we were kids. I don't think his relationship with Kelly is much more than a convenience. The real relationship is with Kelly's oddball brother, Armoni. A real nasty S.O.B, Armoni has Tomas under his thumb. Kelly is just cover. They use each other for kicks. She's meant to keep an eye on Tomas for Armoni."

"What does that have to do with me? Since when does he have this so called _thing?_ " Abby asked with complete mystification. Jose squirmed. Scotty knew the next part would not be easy for Jose to explain.

"Well, uh, Tomas has always had a problem with me—a little jealousy thing. I guess it started with his mama's attention to me when I was first adopted. We were just children. As we grew, I noticed he always had to have whatever I was interested in."

"But Jose, I still don't see what this has to do with me. How do you explain his behavior?" Jose flushed, his fine dark features turning beet red. Abby looked from Scotty to Jose, perplexed. Suddenly, a golden aura flashed into their minds, a whisper infusing their consciousness.

"Sister, I think Brother Jose wants to mate with you."

"Ew," Scotty said with a laugh.

"Damn, Echo!" Jose said pounding his fist on the table. "It's not like that at all, Abby, I mean—Scotty, help me out here."

"I know nothing." Scotty could not contain his laughter. Jose jumped up from the table, pacing nervously. "Maybe we can talk, you and I, and uh, gee Echo, sometimes you have to think before you speak. Abby can we discuss this later?" Jose swallowed his begging voice, embarrassment plastered like a short-circuiting neon sign on his face. Abby put her hand out, drawing him to the table, her expression unreadable.

"Jose, please sit down. The Tomas issue is not important right now. I think you know it's time to answer my questions."

"Okay, yes, saving the best, the very, very best for last." Jose exhaled with relief. Grabbing Scotty, goofing at him like a fool, he clapped him on the back to share a macho moment of male bonding.

Jose shook his head. "I can't believe we were able to keep this secret for so many years."

"What secret? Who's we? Come on, what the heck is going on? I'm too tired for games, guys."

"Scotty, make sure the drapes are all shut for me, just in case."

"In case of what? Come on now, guys, this is weird enough without you trying to scare me."

"It's not about pumping the story," Scotty said, getting up, "It's about being safe."

"Yeah, Abby, what we're going to tell you will sound unbelievable. More unbelievable than what's already happened to you tonight," Jose said, stroking Echo.

"But, Jose." Abby sighed, her frustration and growing impatience clear as a bell. She rubbed her bleary eyes. "I don't even know what happened here tonight. Something happened to me? You mean with Tomas?" Scotty came back to the table and hugged Abby.

"Sis, this is going to be very hard to believe. Jose, I think there's only one way to do it. We need to show her." Raising his eyebrows to Jose, he got a nod. Slowly, both he and Jose let their tails unwind from under their shirts, standing bravely and waiting to be judged. They watched Abby and held their breath.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Abby appeared stunned and angry.

"No, Abby," Jose said softly. "This is who we are now, both of us. Please don't be upset, but this is a side effect of being healed by Echo. We've all been healed by her, even Barney. We've been hiding this for years. Scotty, since he was a boy."

Abby looked over to see Scotty, the pain of isolation clear on his pale face, his freckles straining with the struggle to hold his emotions in, fighting back the tears. He had been so young, and so alone.

"It was hard, Ab. But now I have Jose and Echo, it's so much easier. I don't feel alone anymore. How do you think my eye straightened out and my scars disappeared? And now we have you."

"What do you mean, you have me? Why do you say I'm healed? Am I going to grow a tail too?" Her voice was rising, faint hints of hysteria hiding behind her eyes.

Calming golden auras spoke. "Sister Abby, I am pleased you are healed. You are special now. We have chosen you. You will be a survivor now. This will help make my mission easier. Soon, I must make a decision. But now we are a family and always will be."

"Jose, what is she talking about? I don't understand any of this! Where in the world did this . . . creature . . . come from?"

"That's just it, Abby, she's from another world; another planet. She's been here for a very long time. And she chose us to live with. I know she talks about mission stuff, but who knows? She's ours. Isn't that cool? And she cured you, Abby. That's a great thing! She doesn't seem to eat either, so she won't cost us anything." Jose tried hard, pulling out all the stops to sell Abby the idea of keeping Echo.

"Well now, Jose, I need you to know just a little thing," Scotty spoke slowly. All eyes turned to him.

"It wasn't Echo that healed Abby. I did it."

"What do you mean you, Scotty? How would you know how to do it?"

"I don't know, Jose, my tail just popped out without me thinking. It healed her on its own. I guess that means you can probably do it too. And maybe Abby will be able to do it."

"Echo, can you please tell us what's happening to us?" Jose glanced around, not seeing the creature. Barney appeared to have slipped away too. The three of them hurriedly searched the house. No Echo or Barney.

"Hey, guys, out here." Abby peered out the back window into their miniature yard, its lone maple tree doing a proud job. Echo lay stretched out on her back with her face up to the sun, a waft of air ruffling her golden fur. Steadfast Barney crouched next to her, a faithful guard.

Scotty slipped outside to scoot them back in. Looking around, Scotty spotted a vintage white Volkswagen parked up the hill on the side of the road. He didn't recognize the car. _Is that someone sitting inside? Can they see into the back yard?_ Dismissing his paranoia, he closed the back door and returned to the living room with the two wanderers.

Jose knelt down in front of Echo, slipping his arm around Barney's soft curly neck. Echo's head bobbed around, turning in all directions. Jose waited patiently until she settled down.

"Echo, it's dangerous to walk outside without one of us with you. Someone might want to steal you. Do you want to leave us?" Golden rainbows flashed madly.

"No, Brother Jose, I need you. I need Brother Scotty and Sister Abby. You are very, very important to me and my mission. And I would never leave My Barney, would I, My Barney?" Echo's round furry face bobbled up and down as she rubbed her golden fur against Barney's chest. Barney just sat there with big doggy insouciance, his sloppy tongue hanging over his mouth, dripping slobber onto Echo's shining head.

"Brother Jose, if I am to live with you, I must be able to access the sun to do what you refer to as _eating_. I cannot survive without it. Otherwise, I must return to the Womb in the woods."

"Okay, Echo, I have an idea. Tomorrow is Saturday. We'll all be home. Scotty and I are going to build you a private tree house. You can get the exposure to the sun that you need without anyone spotting you. Can you climb a tree?" The golden auras swirled and then stopped.

Before anyone could speak, Echo broke away from Barney, ran to the living room wall and placed one foot in front of the other as she climbed. She walked upside down across the ceiling, swiveling her head to watch them, then walked back down the opposite wall. Wobbling over to Barney, she pulled herself up, plopped down on his back and curled up. Speechless, Scotty, Abby and Jose just stared.

"Well, I guess she showed us. Okay then." Abby laughed. And it felt good. Many questions remained unanswered, but she felt giddy with the new possibilities. Could it really be true she was healthy now?

Glancing over at Jose, who was planning the tree house with Scotty, she gave him a long pensive appraisal. He had certainly taken the reins here. It made her feel secure. Her face flushed with other thoughts. Was she completely oblivious or what? Things might be looking up a lot more than anyone expected.

Abby said goodnight, pleading exhaustion. At their quick questioning looks, she reassured them that she felt great. She just wanted some time to be alone. She needed to think about so much. This would dramatically change how she thought about herself and her life. And she needed to think about the loss of her mother. She pressed her hand to her stomach, her emotions in a free-for-all. She needed to take time to say goodbye to her mom in private and have a healing cry.

She pushed back the small seed of bitterness that surfaced. With all of this mystical healing stuff, how come it hadn't been used to save Mom? Irrationally, she refused to admit that they hadn't known of her mother's accident until it was too late. _Gee, wouldn't Mom be happy to see me cured?_ As she shut the door to her bedroom, she sighed mournfully, realizing the old adage was correct. _Timing is everything_.

*

Back in the living room, hilarity sounded as Jose collected his tools for the tree house. Echo steered Barney over to the toolbox so she could examine them. Taking the tools out, she lined them up in the hopes of discovering their purpose. Picking up the hammer, she remembered why it looked familiar. Brother's two humans: Sister Netty and Brother Wil.

Now that Echo no longer worried about her loneliness, they had completely slipped from her mind. She remembered watching Brother Wil from the woods. He had often used this primitive tool called a hammer. Echo wondered why Brother had not called on the Womb to make their lives better. Had Brother forgotten who he was? And now Brother Jose planned to use the same tool. Perhaps Echo should show him the easy way. Well, maybe she should first see what he planned to use the tool for. Echo remembered that sometimes, when she volunteered information, someone got upset. _Sister Abby clearly needs a little looking after, she gets upset easily. I better keep an eye on her_. She refused to let any trauma or upset come to her new family. _Fam-i-ly_. She decided she liked the way the word sounded.

*

Studying Echo, Jose wondered what the rascal was up to. She obviously didn't know what to make of his tools. Well, tomorrow he and Scotty would show her a thing or two. They would have her tree house up in no time. Motioning to Scotty, they decided to sit at the table and draw up some rough plans. As they sketched, Jose filled Scotty in about Tomas, Kelly and Armoni.

"The news is not good, kiddo, Armoni pulled a blade on me when I confronted Tomas. Armoni's quite the knife freak. I didn't get inside, but when I knocked at the door I could hear some girl screaming for help. I had Kelly and Armoni in my eyesight, so it wasn't them. God knows what freaky stuff happened in there. I got out of there while the getting was good. I gave the cops a quick call—concerned citizen and all. I hope they were able to get in. Tomas will know it was me who called, though. We've got to be ultra-careful. I'm afraid to leave Echo alone during the day. I think we're going to have to invest in a good security system. Hope we can swing it."

"By the way, Mama Diaz and the girls didn't move in with Tomas. He said Armoni put his foot down. Mama Diaz didn't have a choice. Tomas is going to drive her back to the projects in Short Hills. Isn't that where you used to live?"

"Yeah, I can't believe he'd do that to his mother and his sisters. Should we bring them back here?"

"I don't think so. We have Echo now. And how do we explain Abby's recovery? And our tails? I don't know how you kept it hidden. Give me some time to think about what we can do for them. Don't worry, I won't let Mama and the girls be dumped like this. What do you say, time to hit the sack? We can start this in the morning. We'll pick up lumber at the lumberyard and price out security systems. We start building after lunch, okay?"

"Yeah, I need to hit the sack. Echo? Barney? You guys want to bunk with me?" Barney jumped to his feet, following Scotty to his bedroom with Echo shuffling quickly behind, her tiny leather feet trying their best to keep up with Barney. Jose turned out the lights and followed them all to bed.

The house on Lily Pond Road finally settled down for the night. Sleep came to the occupants of all their neighbor's homes. The night's creatures woke up, starting their nocturnal foraging. And the predators; oh yes, the predators were afoot. Slowly, ever so slowly, the white Volkswagen on the hillside turned on its headlights, quietly rolled down the hill and silently glided past one particular home on Lily Pond Road, before disappearing into the night.

# Chapter 9

The next morning, Scotty woke to a harsh pounding on his door. Recognizing urgency when it woke him up, he slipped into his jeans and shirt, not bothering to tuck in his tail. Glancing around, he noticed that Barney and Echo were nowhere to be seen. Dashing to the living room, he searched for Abby and Jose, finding them hunched over the back window. Joining them, they silently made room for him.

"Holy Mother of God," he whispered with awe in his voice. There, up in the maple tree, sat the furry twosome: Echo, stretched out doing her _eating,_ and Barney keeping watch, happily slobbering all over the new tree house. Looking at Jose, Scotty asked, "Did you?"

Shaking his head, Jose said, "Not me."

Looking back at the tree house, Scotty saw how it gleamed like gold in the sunlight. He couldn't see any joints or supports. _No. It couldn't be, could it?_ He noticed the trunk of the tree encased in the same substance the tree house was made of, giving it a solid support. _Could_ _it be?_ _And how had Barney got up there?_

Running into the garage, he returned with a couple of cans of black spray paint. Hollering to Jose to get a ladder, he ran into the backyard, starting to spray. Jose dragged the ladder up to the tree house and begged Barney to come to him. Echo sat up, motioning to Barney. Golden rainbows flashed in their heads.

"My Barney, please let Brother Jose take you down to the ground. Brother Jose, Brother Scotty, Sister Abby, do you not like my surprise? Now you do not have all of that difficult manual labor to do."

"Echo, will you please come into the house? We would like to talk to you. Oh, and yes, we do love your surprise." Lifting the squirming Barney, Jose eased him down the ladder. Scotty watched, tapping on the mysterious metal. The tree house felt like solid gold. Watching Echo walk down the gold-encased tree, he grabbed a spray can to add more camouflage.

Abby gathered up the wayward buddies and scooted them into the house, with Scotty and Jose not far behind. Gathering at the kitchen table, Echo climbed up unaided. Abby couldn't squash a laugh as she watched Echo make herself comfortable on the table. Looking up at her family, Echo stared into their faces, her beautiful golden eyes flashing rainbows.

"I guess you were very busy last night, Echo," Jose commented softly.

"Oh no, Brother, I slept very soundly last night, and so did My Barney."

"Well, how did the tree house get built? And is it actually made out of gold?"

"Yes, my Brother, I hope you don't mind the gold. I realize it is a soft metal, but the Womb found it the most plentiful metal in the earth near the Hive. Since it was only going to be used for my eating and, of course, the occasional company of My Barney, we thought it would be strong enough. Do you approve?" Jose looked at Abby and Scotty, amazement leaving him speechless. It was clear Echo had no idea of the value of gold. And it was just sitting in their backyard.

" _Oh-my-God_." Abby's eyes were popping as she looked at Jose. "We have to get that tree house out of there."

"I am sorry, Sister Abby. I did not realize what I did was bad. I will have the Womb take it back," Echo flashed her auras wildly.

"No!" everyone shouted in unison. "That's okay, Echo, we can handle this. Guys, we will need to discuss this again later. I guess we all realize we have some new developments on our hands. But right now, we have to get that hunk of gorgeous gold cut up and stowed away, fast."

Grabbing Echo, Jose picked her up and gave her a huge kiss on the mouth. Scotty did the same. Abby smiled and patted her on the head. Barney put his paws on the table and, standing as tall on his tippy toes as he possibly could, gave Echo a very happy, very sloppy kiss. That one made Echo smile.

Scotty and Jose took off for the local hardware store with Abby staying home to keep an eye on Echo and Barney. They all agreed that Jose and Abby should quit their jobs. Even without the specter of independent wealth sitting in their back yard, the complexity of Echo, the Womb and their own changes forced them to re-evaluate their schedules, their jobs and their public exposure.

They made a note to pick up a good pair of sunglasses for Abby. She would need them soon enough. Scotty and Jose both noticed that direct proximity to Echo seemed to accelerate the changes. Jose's eyes had deepened their golden color since they had brought Echo from the woods. And Scotty's golden eyes had developed a distinct rainbow shimmer.

They both agreed they needed a wraparound style of sunglasses for more complete coverage. And how goofy would that look—the three of them walking around in wraparound sunglasses? That would only serve to draw more unwanted attention. For the glasses to protect them more effectively they should only appear in public separately or maybe just two of them together. With that agreement, Scotty and Jose took off for the local hardware store.

*

Arriving at the huge store, they quickly loaded their cart. They needed a lot more paint to cover the gold. Green and black would do—it would likely take them all day to cover the gold completely.

Then they faced a daunting task—cutting up the gold and figuring out how to hide it from the neighbors. They couldn't do it in the dark. The light from the blowtorch would be more noticeable. And where to start? Jose decided the top would be best. They couldn't allow the whole structure to collapse by starting at the bottom. Eyeing the equipment they would need, he realized they probably didn't have the skills to do the job properly. Glancing in the cart, he hoped his money would cover everything. Abby had been reluctant to pool their money. She just couldn't get over the idea that it was no longer necessary to save every penny for her medical treatments.

Jose smacked himself in the head as he thought of their money shortage; _duh_. He only needed to blowtorch off a couple pounds of the gold and they would be rich. He could stop sweating. At $5,500 an ounce, even two pounds would be worth over $176,000. He estimated the gold tree house must weigh over two thousand pounds, maybe more. _Holy shit_. After doing the rough math, he thought he would wet his pants from shock, and a sizable amount of fright.

Could they get into trouble with the government? Would they try to take the gold away from them? Did they need to explain where they got the gold? Maybe they should just sell a little at a time. But even a little would be noticeable. The government would take their half, no matter what. Maybe they wouldn't question where it came from as long as they got their share.

Jose realized he needed to talk to Abby about this. But they already had a lot on their plate dealing with Echo and the changes. He didn't want to flip her out and push her over the edge with more problems. After all, he and Scotty had had years to get used to the idea. Jose took a deep breath. His head spun with exciting possibilities and confusing ramifications.

In the back of his mind . . . way, way back, a small nagging worry began to grow: Tomas and Armoni. He still couldn't figure out if they would develop into a problem. He hoped Abby wouldn't become an issue with Tomas. And what about Mama Diaz and the girls? He knew he must go after them and bring them back. _Hmm, bring them back_.

A fabulous idea occurred to him. The more he thought about his idea, the more he realized what a super solution it could be. But they must accomplish so much before he could even broach his idea to Scotty and Abby. And of course Echo. That could be his biggest stumbling block right there. Sighing, he pushed their shopping cart up to the register. He helped Scotty unload their purchases, grimacing at the pile of equipment. But behind his sunglasses, a tiny pinprick of rainbow light pulsed, giving his mouth the suggestion of a smile.

*

As Jose and Scotty wheeled their purchases out of the store, they passed by a huge heap of bagged garden soil stacked halfway up the wall.

They failed to notice a stubby bandy-legged man with a dirty plaid cap pulled down over his face. He leaned with his back on one of the bags of garden soil, seemingly in a doze. As Jose and Scotty passed by, he twitched.

A minute passed. He slowly rose and pushed his cap to the back of his head, his eyes following the backs of Jose and Scotty as they made their way to Jose's car and loaded their purchases. He slowly chewed a tobacco wad, his teeth stained with the vile juices which leaked out the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his shirt.

Casually, he made his way to a parked white Volkswagen, spitting a wad on the pavement. He slid behind the wheel and pulled out in front of Jose and Scotty as they continued to stack their purchases. With a salute in his rear view mirror, he calmly pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the road.

*

Jose finished loading the equipment, his anxious mind already on painting the tree house. Jose paused as he pulled up behind a white Volkswagen blocking his way. The driver made a gesture then pulled away. Jose turned the car in the other direction and hurried home.

# Chapter 10

Katie had just finished celebrating her seventeenth birthday. She knew she rated about a four on the pretty girl meter. Her tree-trunk legs and round, plain Irish face accentuated her stout figure. Not surprisingly, the young teen longed to be kissed by a boy. She used to worry about that fact, all the time. But that was in the past. Ironically, it was the very reason she now hovered on the verge of death.

Her weakness debilitated her to the extent she no longer registered her surroundings. She couldn't summon the strength to fight her captors. Time in the basement had passed in a confused kaleidoscope of pain and abuse for over a month; possibly longer. She found herself still strapped to the same table they had strapped her to so long ago. The day she fell like a foolish eager moth into their psychotic flame.

Six months ago, she had felt flattered when Kelly and Tomas started to pay attention to her. Kelly was a few years older and so pretty. They worked together in a popular seafood diner downtown. She made a few bucks bussing tables for the cocktail waitresses after school. She knew Tomas liked to watch her from the bar as he mixed drinks for Kelly and her customers.

She had thought Tomas liked her. His sexiness had made her heart race as he cornered her in the kitchen, pressing his leg into her hips, brushing his lips against her ears, telling her how much he wanted to be with her. She dreamed about the first time she would let him kiss her. She would fantasize about it all day in class while she neglected her assignment. Her face would burn with shame as she remembered Tomas's insistence that they keep their feelings a secret. All the time, he and Kelly had laughed behind her back.

When Tomas had asked her into his house the night he offered to give her a lift home after work, she had almost dropped the tray she carried. After work, she had flown to his little white car, flopping eagerly into the front seat. Her excitement had risen when he had induced her into stopping by his house before taking her home. Her enthusiasm had slipped as he pulled up to little more than a shack in the woods outside town. He had swept her inside before she could protest, passing through the tiny living room to a filthy kitchen. He had pointed to a scuffed chipboard door in front of him, claiming his apartment was in the basement. Katie had felt a stirring of anticipation as he took her arm, stroking it softly. He had opened the door and turned on the light.

Descending, he had told her to shut her eyes, a surprise awaited her. Carefully helping her navigate the stairs, he had murmured in her ear, telling her how long he had spent dreaming of this moment. He had led her over to the table she was now chained to. He had told her to sit, but not to open her eyes. Slowly his hand had caressed her flat and undefined breast. She had blushed, so giddy with excitement that she hadn't even felt the pinprick of the needle as Kelly, who had been hiding in the dark basement shadows, plunged a disabling chemical into her bloodstream.

When she woke, she had found she couldn't move. She had felt groggy and her vision had fought in vain to focus. Where the heck was she? She hadn't recognized the ceiling tiles over her head. Or the exposed pipes that ran under the tiles. _Huh?_ She had run her tongue around her mouth, feeling the gummy dryness catch in her throat, preventing her from swallowing. Gagging, she had tried to identify the strange taste in her mouth. It tasted like she imagined a bad oyster would taste. Like dog shit. Slowly, the realization she was restrained had sunk in. Straining her eyes, she had tried harder to focus, softy calling for Tomas. Was he tied up too?

Little by little her vision had started to clear. An image had appeared at the end of the table near her feet. She tried, but couldn't make it out. Pushing her bleary eyes to focus, she had realized her restraints were actually chains, spreading her feet wide. She couldn't look down, but it had felt like she was no longer wearing her skirt and panties. Her bottom felt exposed from underneath, as if positioned over a cutout in the hard table, edges cutting into the substantial flesh of her wide ass.

"Well, hello there." A voice . . . hard and rasping, trying at sweetness. Her bleary eyes had identified a figure at the end of the table; an oddly shaped man. She hadn't been able to see his lower body, but she could easily ascertain his diminutive stature and large head. He had leered at her with stained ugly teeth, moving closer to her head. Close enough for her to smell a heavy stench of body odor rolling off him.

"My name is Lover. We're all here ta play a game, a game that you'll come ta love. After we've finished the game, Kelly will take ya home, right, Kelly?"

"Yes, Lover," Kelly had said, emerging from the shadows of the basement. As she approached the table, Katie had spotted a knife in her hands. Kelly had languidly caressed the knife, her attention focused on Katie. Katie's heart had thumped wildly.

"What the hell is going on here? Let me up, right now. Where's Tomas?" She had felt the panic rising in her throat. Her voice had cracked, her lips looking for moisture.

"Here ya are, babe." The man had inched closer, a bottle of water held in his hand. She had eyed it gratefully, her hands straining in her chains, trying to reach out for the water.

"Not so fast, babe, let me." Slipping his hands under her neck he had poured water into her mouth. She had choked and gagged. The odor of the man had overwhelmed her, yet she needed the water. Gasping for breath, she had glanced at Kelly, who stood unmoving, seemingly riveted by the scene playing out in front of her.

"Okay, little girl, it's time to reward me for my generosity." She had looked at the little man, noticing his inordinately large muscular arms. Kelly had stepped forward, handing the shiny knife to the little man. Her adrenalin had shot through her head, paralyzing her with fear.

The man had taken the knife and delicately slit the front of her shirt down the front, exposing her bra. He had slit the front of her bra, the ends folding to the side, exposing her flat breasts.

"Please, I need to go home now," she had managed to squeak out. "Kelly, can you take me home?" Kelly had let out a tinny laugh that had frozen Katie to her core. Suddenly, the room had crackled with silence. Breaking the ominous quietude, she had clearly heard the sound of a zipper slowly moving down its track, followed by the sound of pants dropping to the floor. She had glanced again at Kelly, her face beseeching her for help. Her voice had died meekly on her cracked lips as Kelly's eager look, eyes glassy with anticipation, left her with little hope.

Events had happened quickly. The little man had straddled her with his stubby hairy legs, his penis erect and angry, forcing its way into her tender virgin flesh. She had screamed in shock and pain. Kelly had reached over, slapping her face. The little man had pumped up and down, his face contorted with pleasure, his cock a devouring branding iron on her innocent flesh.

"Call my name, little girl. Call my name." He had shouted in ecstasy. Kelly slapped her again.

"Call his name, you stupid bitch," she said.

"His name . . . I don't know his name," she had screamed, her childish voice breaking, tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. "Lover, yes Lover," she had suddenly remembered.

"That's my girl. You know this game, don't you? I bet Tomas slipped it to you, didn't he? You love this, don't you? You're just a slut like all the others, aren't you? Answer me!"

"Yes, Lover, yes, Lover," she had said after another slap from Kelly. It had gone on and on: a slap from Kelly and the required words to the little man. Kelly's slaps had soon changed to punches, her required words to whispers and slurring. Her lips had turned black and blue; her thighs slippery with blood. And yet the little man had not stopped, he had kept banging away and Kelly had kept punching her.

And right before she had passed out, there . . . yes, there in the shadows, she had just made out Tomas; his nakedness glowing in the dim light. His engorged penis had glistened, fully erect as he watched the rape, his hand fondling his treasure as his greasy face reflected a picture of exquisite pleasure. Katie's eyes had rolled back in her head and she was gone.

*

Waking the next day, she had noticed her body was still shackled and protesting, her muscles screaming in pain. She had ignored the terror from her rape, not willing to think about it. If she had, she might have started to cry and she felt bad enough. Hunger pangs had consumed her. Maybe she would be able to convince one of them to give her some food. Then she could concentrate on trying to get out of here. They could not keep her forever. She would make sure they paid for this after she told her mother.

Maybe Tomas would come to regret his part in what happened. He had originally liked her, after all. Straining, she had noticed the basement door at the top of the stairs was cracked open. The quiet was pierced by the sound of murmuring as she noticed a sliver of light. Suddenly, she had heard shouting. Another voice, quite angry; an unfamiliar voice.

Maybe this was her chance. She had screamed for help.

"Help me, please help me. _Help!_ Please someone, help me," she had screamed over and over. Her voice had grown weaker and weaker. She had soon given up as the angry voices receded. Trembling, she had wondered if they had heard her or if she had made her situation worse.

*

Time ticked slowly. Before long, the basement door opened wider and the three of them came down the steps, Kelly holding some kind of cage. She lifted it up over Katie's table bed, hooking it to the ceiling, leaving it covered.

The little man came over to Katie and dumped some water on her face. Frantically, she tried to catch some of the moisture with her tongue. She noticed Tomas stayed in the background, silent and watching. The inevitable sound of the descending zipper drew her attention back to the little man.

"Noooo, please not again. I'll do anything," she whimpered as the man climbed on top of her.

"Shut your trap, bitch. Did ya think your screaming was gonna git by us? I think ya need ta be taught how ta behave, don't ya?" Plunging into her agonizing swollen flesh he raped her again. Pulling his penis out of her, he saw she was non-responsive. Slapping her face until her eyes focused from the sharp bite of pain, he bent down to her face, his breath reeking of garlic and tobacco. Katie couldn't help it, she heaved all over herself, her vomit spraying the little man, almost choking her. He pulled back in disgust, nodding to Kelly.

Kelly stepped over to Katie's table, a shiny meat cleaver in her hand.

"Nooo, please, why are you doing this to me?" she whimpered, losing control of her urine, her eyes following every move of the meat cleaver. She was so engrossed, she completely missed Kelly's other hand shooting out with the syringe until she felt the sting, prompting her to fall mercifully asleep.

*

"Hey, Kelso. What little trinket ya after this time?" Armoni giggled, his eyes eager. When she ignored him in her absorption of the task in front of her, he started to whine. "Why don't ya bring me one a those skinny stuck-up bitches. Why's it always gotta be a fat ugly one? Takes all the fun out'a it."

"All the fun? I doubt it," Tomas said disgustedly. Swift as a jack rabbit, Armoni snared Tomas's throat in his meaty hand, backing him up against the wall.

"What'd you say there, boy? Ya got somethin' ta complain 'bout? Any time you want out, you jis say so. Me an Kelso here can handle this on our own. Jis like we can handle lil ole Miss Abby on our own. I sure would like to put it to her." Tomas squirmed in Armoni's hand, trying to speak. Armoni farted and released him just as suddenly. Slapping Tomas on the back, he laughed.

"Come on boy, I'm jis jiving with ya. When the time comes, she's all yours. I'll even keep Kelly off a her for ya. You know I'm jis after the kid's gold coin ya say he's got in the house. I'm jis waitin for the right time. Now shut yer mouth and let's have some fun until then."

Slapping Tomas up alongside the head, he moved back to the table to monitor how far along Kelly was.

He could see she was making nice progress. Her work truly was a talent, her results artwork. How many people could make these savage cuts without the victim bleeding to death? She collected her trophies in a wooden bowl and took them upstairs. Armoni knew what she planned, but it would have to wait for tomorrow. He felt exhausted; all that fancy detective work he'd undertaken over the last few days.

He wondered what those three on Lily Pond Road were up to. Well, he would find out soon enough. If he couldn't discover it on his own, he would let Kelly employ her favorite knife, after he had his own fun with the stuck-up bitch first. He laughed to himself, thinking of his promise to Tomas. Oh well, he would make it up to him. _Or not_. He cackled to himself, climbing up the stairs, Tomas following close behind.

*

Katie's body flamed with pain. So did her throat. She needed something to drink, her discomfort acute. And she was faint from hunger. She just lay there on the table, suffering.

She tried to think about her mother and father. They must be frantic with worry. Tears trickled down her face as she thought of how she must have disappointed them. Her pain screamed for her attention. She wondered what time it was. As much as she needed her captors to feed her, she knew their presence would mean more pain. She tried to distract herself and failed. She tried to doze. The pain took over again. It was a vicious circle. No matter what she thought about, she felt only the pain.

Finally. Was someone stirring overhead? She heard pots and pans. Dare she hope? In passing, she realized they hadn't beaten her completely down, yet. Would that time come? Would they let her go home? Was she ready to die? No. She just wanted to eat and have the pain stop. The kitchen door cracked open. She heard steps descending down the stairs. She could smell food! Opening her eyes, she saw Kelly standing over her, a frying pan in her hands.

"I have something for you to eat. I am going to lift your head and feed you."

"Can't you unlock my hand?" Katie whispered painfully. Kelly ignored the question and spooned the food in, occasionally giving her a sip of water. Katie tried to place the flavor of the food, but gave up. Who cared? She was just grateful to Kelly for feeding her.

She noticed a very bad smell of feces. Remembering the cutout in the table she realized what it was for. It was her; her own feces. She felt her stomach rebel. She tried to keep it down, but up it came. Kelly furiously pounded the side of the table with the frying pan.

"Oh, you don't like my cooking? You have no one to blame but yourself." And she dumped the rest of the food on Katie's face. "What, you don't like toe jam?" Laughing loudly, she picked up one of Katie's arms showing her the end of her hand. She dropped the arm and picked up her leg. A leg that was taped but clearly missing its toes just as her hand was missing her fingers. Not comprehending, Katie's face remained blank. Kelly picked up some of the food on Katie's neck with the spoon and pretended to munch on it, making sloppy noises. As Katie's face showed a slow dawning of horror, Kelly scampered up the staircase to the sound of more vomiting and choking.

The days passed in a haze of pain, but Katie didn't suffer any more rapes. The smell in the basement had become so unbearable, they left her alone most of the time. Thank God for that. She suspected her hands and feet were infected. She couldn't feel anything from the waist down, but she could feel the swollen state of her hands, the pain excruciating. They gave her water once a day. No food. She could tell she had lost a massive amount of weight. She finally admitted to herself that they wanted her to die, it was just a matter of time.

One day, Tomas came into the basement with something in his hand. He reached up to the cage hanging over her table and dropped something in. She idly wondered if he was feeding something. Occasionally she would look up and see the cage in motion. But it wasn't enough to hold her attention for long. Her pain and misery overwhelmed her most of the time.

Kelly never spoke when she brought water. Katie tried to engage her in conversation, but found the effort too difficult. Her feelings of hopelessness intensified and she constantly slipped in and out of consciousness. Days passed. Katie vaguely noticed a change in Kelly's behavior. She fed her extra water. The slop bucket that sat under the cut out in the table to catch her feces and urine was taken out and emptied. Kelly actually washed the crusted gunk off Katie's face and neck. The smell in the room noticeably improved. Something was definitely up. The extra water allowed Katie to maintain consciousness more often, but she felt so weak, she could no longer move her head.

Katie dozed off, not hearing the three of them enter. They fanned out around her table, their voices coming from far away.

"Wake her up, Kelso baby. I got places ta go. I wanna git the grand finale over with." Armoni rubbed his hands together, dancing with glee. Kelly slapped the side of Katie's face, forcing her eyes to stay open. Kelly's hands held a short black rubber tube. While she watched, her heart beating wildly, she saw Tomas reach up and unhook the cage that hung over her table. He set the cage down, right on top of her stomach and lifted the covering. She could see the cage was covered by a fine mesh screen. The faint whispered rattling that came from inside the cage increased as Armoni slapped the mesh sides.

"Hey there, babies. Wake up! Duty calls!" Katie could see a writhing mess of baby eastern diamondback rattlesnakes inside the cage. They were only about a foot long, their rattles very faint. They were beautiful snakes, more than happy to bite, their venom stronger than an adult: They were not yet mature enough to have learned their venom must be used judiciously for actual prey. Stunned, Katie wondered what the heck they planned to do with the snakes. Looking into their excited faces, dread descended in waves, paralyzing her thoughts.

With a jab in the ribs from Armoni, Kelly took the hose and connected it to a covered round opening in the cage. She slid the cover of the hole up, allowing the snakes to bolt for the tube. The men grabbed the sides of Katie's face. As her eyes popped, Kelly quickly secured the other end of the rubber tube to Katie's mouth; sliding it in as far as it would go, opening a direct pathway down her gurgling throat.

Katie's face turned purple. Kelly quickly secured the tube with duct tape around Katie's mouth. She tapped the sides of the tube until she was convinced all of the snakes had descended to the end around Katie's mouth where she prevented access back up the tube with a clamp. There was only one way for the skinny buggers to go now.

Armoni watched with delight as Katie stopped her feeble struggles. _Is she even conscious anymore?_ He knew she was still alive. He wished he could hang around to see what killed her off first: the snakes or a heart attack. Probably, the heart attack. It wasn't like this was the first time he had tried this, after all. But duty called.

Slapping Tomas and Kelly on the back, he declared, "Time ta saddle up, gang." And with that, they climbed the basement stairs, walked out to the little white Volkswagen and drove off to Lily Pond Road. Not even a casual glance back to see the last death twitch of a young seventeen-year-old girl who had just wanted to be kissed by a boy.

# Chapter 11

Scotty and Jose pulled into their driveway. Opening the garage door, they unloaded all the equipment and supplies they had purchased at the hardware store. They each took a can of paint and paintbrushes and headed for the back yard where they found the rest of the family. Yes, they were clearly a family. It felt right.

Looking over at Abby as she lay sprawled on the ground with Echo and Barney, Jose kept his feelings for her hidden. He knew she couldn't deal with a relationship right now with her world so turned upside down. He needed her to see the merits of what was happening on her own. He delightedly watched the three of them romp on the ground as if they didn't have a care in the world. Abby looked up.

"Oh, you guys are home. Anyone feel like something to eat?" No one was hungry; except Barney, that is. Abby got up to get some dog chow from the kitchen, while Scotty and Jose studied the magnificent structure in the tree.

"Brothers, why do you stare at the tree house? You look unhappy. Do you need to go up in the tree house to eat?" The aura wafted in their minds, golden color swirling.

"No, Echo," Jose answered. "We need to figure out how we're going to dismantle it and hide it in the garage. Otherwise, someone will steal it from us. But for now, we're just going to paint it so it doesn't draw any unwanted attention."

Echo stared as Jose and Scotty did their best to cover the tree house with paint. It didn't have to be perfect. As a matter of fact, the more haphazard the better. The job took them quite a while; dusk was descending by the time they finished. Scotty went in to clean up while Echo and Barney stayed with Jose as he finished the job, stashing the tools in the garage.

Moving from the garage to the back yard, Jose happened to glance up the hill and noticed the white car again parked in the same place. It looked occupied. The thought occurred to him that the car looked just like Tomas's white Volkswagen. It couldn't be. What would Tomas be doing spying on them? He wouldn't dare. Dismissing thoughts of the car, he shooed Barney and Echo into the house.

"Abby, we're done for now," he called. "Where's Scotty? I'd like to make some plans and I think he should be in on this." Abby came into the room, laundry in her hands. Jose looked at her and stared. _Gosh, she's so pretty_. He sure had it bad.

"What are you staring at?" Abby set the laundry on the table, snapping her fingers.

"Scotty ran out to get the mail. He should be back by now."

"Just look out the window and see if you can see him."

Jose went to the window and reported Scotty squatting on the ground. He noticed a young boy with him.

"That's Kimir. Scotty used to follow his brother around when he was little. I don't even think Kimir was born then," Abby said coming up behind Jose and joining him at the window.

"What are they looking at?" She peered out the window.

"I'm not sure. It looks like a box turtle. _Holy shit, no_." He grabbed his sunglasses and tore out the door as Scotty's tail unwound itself from under his shirt, standing up, high over his head, then pointed at the turtle and unleashed its magnificent power.

Too late, Jose stopped at the mailbox and was soon joined by Abby, who had also thought to grab her new sunglasses. Little Kimir sat on the ground. He cradled his arm which sported a nasty gash. His tearstained face held a stupefied expression of astonishment. He picked up his turtle, rubbing a spot on its back. He tapped the turtle's shell and glanced up at Scotty with confusion. Scotty's tail was just retracting its membrane and winding itself back under his shirt. Snapping out of it, Kimir stood up and screamed at the top of his lungs. Picking up his turtle, he ran across the neighbor's lawn screaming, "Mama, Mama," as if pursued by demons.

"Oops!" Scotty displayed a guilty look on his face. Looking over to an angry Jose and a bemused Abby, he confessed. "Believe it or not, it was an accident. I couldn't help myself. My tail has a mind of its own. I couldn't control it. Gosh, I'm so sorry." He looked into their faces, looking for forgiveness, but seeing only alarm.

Peering in the direction Kimir had run, Jose scanned the area to see if anyone else had observed them. Seeing nothing but the annoying white Volkswagen, he hustled them into the house. Scotty flopped down on the sofa, his head bowed in consternation. Barney padded over, his tongue offering sloppy succor, making Scotty feel better. Wiping Barney's saliva from his face, he turned to Abby, innocent guilt in his wretched posture.

"Ab, I know I made a mistake. Maybe nothing will happen. Kimir's only a kid. Who's going to believe anything he says?" Taking a chair from the kitchen table, Jose carried it over to the deformed sofa, setting it down in front of Scotty. He took another chair and brought it over for Abby, indicating she should sit down.

"Okay, champ, why don't you tell us exactly what happened. Don't worry, no matter what, we'll work this out. We're a family. Just give it to us straight." Taking Abby's hand, he gave it a squeeze. She rewarded him with a tentative smile.

"Okay, I was going out to get the mail. On the side of the road, I saw a bunch of big kids. They were picking on Kimir. I could see he had some kind of an injury on his arm. He was jumping up and down, trying to retrieve his pet turtle which the boys were holding over his head. One ass in the group took the turtle and set it down on the ground, ramming a walking stick down on the shell. It split the shell through, blood and guts, geee-ross. Kimir went bonkers. The turtle probably wasn't going to survive. I chased the big kids away. Honestly, I absolutely didn't plan to do anything else. Before I knew what was happening, my tail was having a field day, the turtle was healed and you guys were glowering at me."

"I noticed the bad cut on Kimir's arm. Why didn't you heal that?" Abby asked.

"Don't know, Ab. I had no control over anything." While they were talking, Echo climbed up on Jose's lap, showing interest in their conversation. Jose looked pensive.

"Abby, did you have any desire to heal the boy after we got to the mailbox?"

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"No, I didn't. Don't you find that a bit strange? Echo, I think it's time to fill us in on a few things." Echo remained silent. Abby and Jose looked at each other, wary and a little fearful. Tipping Echo's soft golden head up so he could gaze straight into her eyes, he just glared. The golden rainbow swirls were hypnotizing but unreadable. Jose felt Echo's presence in his mind.

"My Brothers and Sister will not understand." Echo sounded tentative. "It is against the law to heal a human. But it is compulsory to heal a creature."

"But you healed us. And Scotty healed Abby. Are you trying to say God's creatures come before humans?"

"My Brothers, my Sister. The creatures do not belong to God. They belong to themselves and to the Womb."

Jose felt bewildered. Unconsciously, the creeping wariness began to worm its insecure way under his skin.

"What the heck does that mean? The creatures belong to the Womb? You have got to be kidding me! And what about us, Echo? You're part of our family now. We love you! Barney loves you," cried Abby, her passion taking everyone by surprise. Echo turned her face down. She leaned back against Jose, crushing her tiny wings and snuggling in as if to ask for protection. The now very familiar auras flashed pressure. They could feel emotions warring in their minds: human emotions from Echo, frailties and imperfections.

"I am sorry to say, I have defied the Womb. But the Womb has forgiven me, just as it forgave my Brother so long ago. We are not here to heal the human population. That is not our mission. But we are a lonely species. I picked you for myself. I have been selfish. And I could not live without My Barney." Barney whined, hearing his name. "If I am able to stay part of the family, you will be very happy. I will make sure. You have been chosen."

"Of course you're going to stay, Echo. We all belong together, protecting one another. What's this mission you're talking about?" Abby appeared appeased and relieved.

Perhaps this is not the time to bring up Echo's mission, Jose thought, Especially since Echo clearly doesn't feel inclined to answer the question. He watched her climb down off Jose and curl up beside Barney's tummy.

Echo said a final, "Goodnight, family," then was fast asleep with Barney as her pillow.

"Well, I guess that's that. I don't think we're going to get much more out of Echo tonight," Scotty said. "I'm beat. Do you mind if I go to bed? I know we have a big day tomorrow." Scotty looked really tired. It had been an emotional day. No one really cared why Echo had healed them or what her mission was about at this point. They were just happy that they were the chosen ones. It felt good to be chosen; real good. Kissing Abby and mock-punching Jose, Scotty took off for bed.

Abby rose, looking after Scotty as he walked down the hallway.

Turning to Jose, she smiled. "Thank you. What would I do without you, Jose? He looks up to you. You make us both feel safe." She put her hand on the side of his face, patting his cheek, softly. "See you in the morning."

"Night, Ab." Jose smiled to himself as he followed her down the hall to his own bedroom. At least she regarded him as a grown man, instead of a kid. It was a start; a real good start.

*

In the diminutive white Volkswagen, they looked at each other with astonishment. "What the fuck was that?" Armoni jived around in his seat so fast Tomas thought he would wet his pants. Yeah, the little fucker, Scotty revealed himself to be a freak show.

"Things are get'n mighty interesting, my friend. I think we need to include little Scotty in our investigation, don't you? We can make a fortune off a that tail a his. This keeps get'n better and better. Can't wait ta tell my sister, she's gonna love it. Hope she got rid of the fat cow's carcass. Don't want to deal with that now, do we? I got me some strategizing ta do." Armoni removed a frayed cigarette from behind his crusty ear. Lighting it, he took a deep drag of gratification, exhaling in Tomas's submissive face, the scurvy bouquet of cheap tobacco and halitosis redolent in decay.

"Come on, boy. Maybe I'll give you a go at Kelso tonight to celebrate. I think I might have her suck my dick while she's at it." Sneering at Tomas's red face, he double-punched him playfully, "I promise I won't make you watch me and her get it on again. Now boy, let's go celebrate."

# Chapter 12

Jose woke early the next morning. He had a few ideas he wanted to discuss with Abby, but he and Scotty were swamped with so much hard work to do today he doubted he would find the time. His biggest challenge was to start chopping up the gold in their back yard; if you wanted to call it a challenge. He preferred to think of it as their salvation. It would enable them to escape from Tomas and his buddy Armoni. And to escape the potential of discovery after yesterday's incident at the mailbox.

Washing up in the bathroom, he admired his tail. He loved looking at it: it gleamed and he wished he didn't have to keep it hidden. He wasn't ashamed; on the contrary, he felt proud. It made him special. He felt confronted with a destiny, and it linked him to Abby in the most special way. Wiping his face, he thought he heard raised voices in the living room. Oh, please, it's too early. Sighing, he hurried down the hallway to confront the newest crisis.

Entering the living room, Jose was confronted by Abby and Scotty's sickened faces. Echo and Barney were playing 'catch me' in the kitchen. Well, it couldn't be that bad if Echo was ignoring them.

"What's up, guys?"

"Jose, it's gone. Our tree house is gone. Do you believe it? Look out the back window." Scotty stamped around, angry as a honeybee caught under a horse's blanket. Looking over to Abby, Jose saw her nod with confirmation, clearly dumbfounded.

Going to the window, he confirmed the tree house was missing. It appeared as if it had never existed. Letting himself out the back door, he walked over to the tree. Looking down at the ground, he searched for signs that someone had been here in the night to steal their tree house away. Nothing. So what the heck had happened? He walked back into the house, where Abby and Scotty anxiously awaited his pronouncement.

"We are royally screwed." Jose sat, feeling as broken as the busted sofa on which he rested, bracing his head in his hands. Abby and Scotty looked at one another in consternation. Abby slipped over to the sofa, her arms wearing sympathy as she slid them around his neck.

"Jose, don't be upset, things aren't that bad. We still have each other and the house. Maybe we can get our jobs back."

"No, Abby. I had plans for us. We need to get out of here. It's too dangerous here for us to stay."

"Jose, what in the world are you talking about?" Abby demanded.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Abby's hand rose to her throat. Shaking off her sudden fright, she stood up to go to the door, musing how she had better stop letting Jose's paranoia get to her. Opening the door, she discovered Kimir's mother standing there, with Kimir hiding timidly behind his mother's skirt. She didn't look happy, by any stretch.

Kimir's mother was a rotund Muslim woman, wearing a standard hijab. Her no-nonsense face exhibited a respectful demeanor, but she clearly had a mission on her mind.

"May I help you? Oh, hello there, Kimir, why don't you come in?" Abby held open the front door.

"No thank you, Ms. Preston. If you could be so kind to answer a few questions for me, I would be so grateful."

Although Kimir's mother looked like she would be anything but grateful, Abby said, "Of course."

"My Kimir told me how your brother chased off the bullies that were tormenting him. He told me what they did to his turtle. I would like to thank him. Is your Scotty at home?" Abby would prefer Scotty not be exposed to Kimir's mother. He was not equipped to deal with a suspicious mama, but she had been caught off guard. With Scotty lurking in the background, it was pretty clear he was inside. Moving aside, she called to Scotty, "Scotty, do you mind coming to the door? Someone is here to see you." Scotty approached the door hesitantly. He patted his tail, reassuringly flattened around and over his back, his sunglasses in place.

"Hey, kid, how's your arm doing?"

Kimir shyly held up the bandage on his arm. His mother shooed him back behind her skirts and fixed Scotty with a critical eye. She examined him thoroughly up and down. Turning to Kimir, she said, "Tell Scotty and Ms. Preston what you told me."

Kimir's eyes bulged as he haltingly described the monster he saw pop out from under Scotty's shirt. "The monster made my turtle better. The bad boys killed my turtle. The monster made my turtle come back to life, good as new. I was scared. The monster was very big." Kimir stood on his toes with his hand up in the air as high as he could reach. "Way, way up in the air. I think Scotty is a big monster, Mama."

Abby laughed nervously.

"Kimir, you simply saw the sun in your eyes and imagined a monster because you were frightened by the boys. I appreciate your mother's concern, but I am very busy and must get to work." Pushing Scotty back into the room, she said goodbye to their visitors. But not before she caught the suspicious cold stare of Kimir's mother.

"We will be back later with Kimir's father. He will ask you to explain. Goodbye." And off they went.

Abby closed the door, breathing a temporary sigh of relief. She really didn't want to be here if Kimir's father planned to show up. She could not let him anywhere near Scotty. What if he actually tried to look under Scotty's shirt? Jose, she thought. He'll know how to handle it.

She found Jose in his bedroom with Echo and Barney hiding under the bed covers, if you could call the vigorous scrambling going on 'hiding'.

"Hey, guys, I need some help. The coast is clear, for now. But they'll be back when Kimir's father gets home." Wringing her hands, she sat on the edge of the bed. "Come on, can you please stop the horsing around? We might have a problem on our hands. And what about the gold? It's still gone."

Jose popped his head up from under the covers, sobering quickly when Abby reminded him of the missing gold and how instrumental it was to his plans for their safety. Getting off the bed, he led Abby into the living room so he could include Scotty in their conversation.

As they left the bedroom, they failed to see Echo's quizzical expression and the flashing of her golden eyes. Ordering Barney off the bed, Echo clambered onto his back and quietly rode him into the hallway where they took up a comfortable position to listen in on the conversation. Echo felt disturbed. Watching her Brothers and her Sister talk quietly on the uncomfortable living room sofa, she could hear the concern about the missing gold, their safety, the need for secrecy and some disturbing information about some humans named Tomas, Armoni and Kelly.

Echo decided it was time to enlighten them about the gold as she began to realize the significance of the shiny mineral. She thought she had better learn what she could about the other three. Her mission might actually start sooner than she expected. Sliding down Barney's back, Echo entered the living room, her tiny useless wings undulating as they always did when she was disturbed.

"My family, please do not fear. I have tried to make things easier for you, with the help of the Womb, of course. Come." Sliding across the floor on her tiny leather feet, she shuffled to the door leading into the garage. "Come," she beckoned. Abby and Jose tossed questioning looks at each other.

Shrugging, they followed their enigmatic sojourner. Opening the door and switching on the light, their jaws dropped. And then they grinned, grabbing Echo up in their arms, laughing with relief. They danced into the garage where, wonderfully, all the gold was neatly stacked in small sizes, very easy to handle.

Golden auras flashed in their minds, "You are happy now, yes?"

"Yes, Echo, we are very happy. What a relief! You're such a monkey!"

"No, Brother Jose, I am not a monkey. I am an Oolahan."

Jose chuckled. He had forgotten how literal Echo could sometimes be; and how observant. Abby announced she wanted to take a shower. She gave Echo a kiss and danced down the hallway.

Jose continued to muse about Echo. She must have realized he and Scotty were complaining about the difficulty of moving the gold. So she had taken care of it on her own. Well, with the help of what Echo called the 'Womb'; whatever that was. It had never occurred to Jose to consult with Echo over the problem. Staring at Echo, he realized they knew so very little about her. His earlier trepidation dissipated, but he had better stop thinking of her as their special pet and Barney's personal playmate. There may be much more to Echo than they realized. Time for a little chat, although he admitted he usually didn't get far trying to pry information from her.

"I know you're not a monkey. That's a slang term of endearment. Actually, I don't really know what you are."

"Yes you do, Brother. I am an Oolahan, a minion of the Womb from the planet Oolaha. Did we not have this conversation already, Brother Jose?" Changing the subject, Echo demanded to know who Tomas, Kelly and Armoni were, and why they were dangerous. Were they bad humans?

"Yes, they're very bad and very dangerous. They wish to harm Abby. I'm worried they might get to her if we don't move away from here. That's why the gold is so important. We can use it to exchange for money. Then we can afford to move away."

"Gold will do that for you? I am so happy the Womb chose to make the tree house out of gold then, instead of the diamonds it was going to use. The diamonds would have been stronger, but the Womb could not find enough material to complete the task. The gold was much more plentiful."

"Diamonds? You had diamonds? This is too much. Echo, any diamonds you find are a good thing—a very good thing. A diamond is something a man gives to the lady he loves. If she accepts it, the man knows she loves him back and they get married, hopefully living happily ever after."

"Do you want a diamond to give to Sister Abby, Brother?" Echo asked innocently.

"Yes, sometime I hope to give Abby a diamond. But I must wait until I am sure she will accept it."

"Oh, I think I understand." Echo's aura splintered into a new pattern.

"Brother Jose, don't worry about Sister Abby. I will protect her." Jose looked down at the tiny two-feet high furry enigma. Echo sure did have a magic bag of tricks, but they had better rely on him to provide the protection. Patting Echo on the head, he decided he had better go round up Abby and Scotty so they could plan how to dispose of some of the gold. Oh, one more question for Echo.

"Echo, do you have any objection if our family moves away from this neighborhood? Like about a thousand miles away, to another state."

"No, Brother Jose. I will be happy to go wherever you need me to go. Will My Barney come too? I cannot leave him behind."

"Of course Barney will come. He's family. And he's special to you. We wouldn't leave any of our loved ones behind, okay?"

The aura whispered assent and Jose left to find Abby and Scotty.

*

Three very happy young people sat around the kitchen table, staring at a piece of gold retrieved from the garage. Abby held it in her hand, estimating the weight.

"This must be at least ten pounds." Taking out her cellphone she turned to a calculator app and figured the worth of the hunk of gold. "Current quote for gold is $5523 an ounce. I don't know what they will actually pay, but it will be less a commission. I have no idea how much that is, but it doesn't matter anyway. What matters is how many pounds they can move for us without questioning us too closely. We may need to use every dealer in the county. Spread it around. Sooner or later they'll talk to one another and realize they have the same customer trying to dump the gold. I think we should be prepared to get out of town within a month of starting to sell. And of course, we'll have to research how this is reported to the IRS. We want to be very careful about avoiding the appearance of anything illegal. We may want to consider consulting with an attorney, maybe a tax attorney. What do you guys think?"

"Sounds great, Abby. Glad you've been doing some thinking about this. Scotty, you on board? Scotty?"

Scotty scribbled furiously, very busy with a pencil and Abby's cellphone. "Well guys, at $5500 an ounce, allowing for commissions, attorney fees, bribes, etc., I estimate we have over two thousand pounds in the garage. That is almost $176 million. The government leaches will take 60 percent. That leaves us approximately $71 million." Looking up, Scotty beamed. "I'm good with figures."

Jose and Abby looked at each other with astonishment. "Do you think that's enough, babe?" Jose said to Abby.

"Babe? What do you mean, babe?" Scotty blurted, looking from one to the other. Abby shrugged her shoulders looking tolerant. "Hey—what's with you two?"

Jose clapped Scotty on the back and jumped up, giving him a bear hug.

"Don't mind us. We're just giddy with happiness. I'll make an appointment with an attorney. Abby, do you want to come with me? Scotty, I want you to stay here and guard the house. Have the cops on speed dial. Just in case Tomas or Armoni decide to show up. Do not answer the door . . . for anything, no matter what. Abby, I think you should call a security company and have them give us the works. Once the rumor of Scotty's oddness gets around, and it will, we might have more unwelcome visitors."

"Jose, I'm starting to feel nervous about the timing of all of this. Maybe we should relocate to someplace temporary as soon as we get our hands on some cash. We might be safer there because no one will know where we are. Here, we're sitting ducks. Just selling one piece of gold will give us the money to move."

Abby had a point. They decided it might take more than one day to sell even three pieces of the gold; one apiece. They realized gold shops probably didn't have the kind of money they needed on hand. The transactions might take a couple of days.

In the meantime, they could look for a decent hotel with an outside entrance. They should be safe there until they sold the rest of the gold. Of course, they were going to have to rent a very secure truck to store the gold. Maybe the security company could get them the correct truck. They should have everything done within four days. No less.

Tomorrow would be the first contact with the gold dealers. They decided Scotty would not participate at first, because of his age. They wanted to get a handle on the procedure and the possible pitfalls before they sent in a young kid who might arouse suspicion. After all, even a sixteen ounce lump of gold was worth over $88,000.

As the day drew to a close, everyone retired to their bedrooms. Echo decided to sleep with Abby after first explaining that she must guard her as she slept. So of course that meant Barney must join them in Abby's small single bed. Thank heavens she would soon be able to afford a bed large enough to get a good night's sleep. Even with unexpected furry company.

*

The next day, Jose woke at a knock on his bedroom door. Scotty leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, shaking his head, but grinning all the same. Crooking his finger at Jose, he said, "Follow me."

Walking into the living room, Jose knew he was in for another amazing day. And he was right. There in the middle of the floor sat a heap of what looked like dirty rocks, of all sizes. The largest looked as big as a baseball. There sat Barney looking dumb and proud, as if he had personally dug them out of the back yard. And there sat Echo, eyes big and flashing golden rainbows. She watched him with her head bowed, but make no mistake, she followed his every move. Rainbow auras pressed his mind.

"These are for my family. Do you accept them, Brothers?" Kneeling down, Jose examined the rocks. "Do you accept them, my Brothers?" Echo repeated.

Jose asked slowly. "Are these actually diamonds, uncut diamonds?" Brightly the aura whispered, "Yes. But Brother, do you accept them? Will Sister Abby accept them?"

"Holy moly, Jose. These are diamonds?" Scotty joined him on the floor. "Yes, Echo," he shouted. "Yes. We accept. Abby accepts." Jose picked up Echo and tossed her in the air, much to her delight, auras flashing madly.

"This means you love me if you accept the diamonds, right, Brothers? I offer you the diamonds as a token of my love."

"Gee Echo, does this mean you want to marry us?" Scotty teased.

"What is marry, Brother Scotty?"

"It's when you give diamonds and make a commitment to be together exclusively and protect one another, forever."

"I will be happy to marry my Sister and my Brothers. I have already made that commitment when I chose you. We truly will be together forever, except for My Barney. Sadly, I do not have the power to make that happen."

"Echo," Jose asked. "What other powers do you have?" The aura dimmed.

"I am sorry, Brother, I do not know how to answer that question. I am what I am. I do not recognize what I am as having powers. I am aware that humans are not very evolved yet. It's quite a disappointment to a minion like me. And then there is the unfortunate mistake. When mistakes are made, the Womb insists we must intervene. The Elders convinced the Womb to allow the mistake to evolve, expecting the eons to smooth out the potential problems. Unfortunately, that did not happen. The Womb is patient, but now it is time to draw the line. With your help, we will do that together." The aura faded and Echo fell silent.

_Whoa._ _What the heck does Echo mean, do what with our help?_ Jose couldn't imagine what Echo referred to, but he didn't want to pester her right now. He faced a ton of work. And Echo was clearly proud and excited about her gift of the diamonds. He didn't want to ruin it for her with intrusive questions. There would be time for that after they had made their escape from this town. Now he must get Abby moving and out of here with the first pieces of gold to sell.

# Chapter 13

Selecting an attorney had been very simple. They just picked the firm in town with the largest ad in the Internet directory. Pulling up in front of the firm's office, they realized that _large_ was a relative term.

The cedar shakes on the one-story shabby building were crying out for a coat of paint, and the law office shared space with a small neglected used car dealer. Oh well, this was a poor rural community. Even though, as the county seat, they had expected something a bit more auspicious from Newtown. They scanned up and down the street as they got out of the Chevy. It looked clear, except for the scruffy white Volkswagen that sat parked near the busy corner that most attorneys used, coming and going from the courthouse parking lot.

Slipping on their sunglasses, Abby and Jose let themselves into a basic but cheerful reception room, comprised of four yellow plastic chairs and the obligatory sofa table stacked with fairly recent magazines. They gave their name to the pretty young receptionist with a nametag that announced her name to be Tiffany. Jose asked for Mr. Gavin, and Tiffany pleasantly escorted them to Mr. Gavin's clean but cluttered office. Scanning the room for personal family photos, Abby found nothing that indicated Mr. Gavin's age.

While they waited, a man entered to rifle through Mr. Gavin's files. He appeared to be in his early thirties and a rumpled mess. His big pale moon face with round owl eyes hidden behind even rounder wire-framed glasses gave him a professorial demeanor that his rumpled exterior only enhanced. Nodding to Abby and Jose with a slight shy smile, he hurried out of the office. A few more moments passed before he returned, taking the seat at Mr. Gavin's desk.

"Mr. Gavin?" Jose inquired.

"No—oh no. Mr. Gavin is my father. I'm Peter. Peter Gavin. Please call me Peter," he invited, his tone self-effacing. "Now, how can I help you, Mr. Diaz?" He looked down to refer to a paper, glancing over to Abby. "And Ms. Preston?"

As Jose related the parts of their story they had agreed to tell, Abby noticed Peter didn't even blink when Jose spoke of needing his guidance to dispose of a considerable amount of gold bullion and untold karats of rough uncut diamonds. Abby passed photos of the items in question across Peter's desk for verification. The photos, taken by Scotty, showed both Abby and Jose in the frame. After listening for half an hour to their plans, Peter, undaunted, announced he was prepared to give his advice.

"Well, it appears you will both be coming into some sizable assets. First the gold. In all of Sussex County, there are no dealers I am aware of who can handle even one of your pieces, at ten pounds each. I suggest you melt one piece down to a more manageable eight-ounce size. The dealers will have no problem with that. It will give you more than enough cash to begin your plans. My office will file all the necessary papers to the government and make sure all applicable taxes are paid. The bulk of your gold assets will need to be sold in Manhattan and other major metro cities—I hesitate to use just one dealer. And you do not want to flood the local market all at once. I believe we should make some inquiries in India, another wonderful source of eager gold dealers. One of the problems I see here is the necessity to carry the gold personally to the dealers and negotiate a price. If, as you say, you don't want to handle the task yourself, you must hire a bonded agent to do the work for you. That can be quite expensive." Blushing, Peter looked down at his paperwork. "Of course, it appears you wouldn't have a problem with that. I beg your pardon."

"Now the diamonds are another matter. To get your best price, it would be wise to participate in an auction. You may or may not know, but diamonds are very much regulated and tightly controlled by the big diamond families out of South Africa and the cartels in South America. The provenance of a diamond is also critical."

Noting their puzzled looks, he hastened to explain. "Their history . . . their place of origination. As that seems to be a bit of a problem for you, I would like to suggest you invest more time in this part of your endeavor. I need to do a bit of research, but I am sure it would be much easier to dispose of some of the stones, if we could locate a craftsman who could cut them for you. A finished stone of a smaller size, even a few karats, will not attract the kind of scrutiny you are looking to avoid. The stones will be much easier to protect than the gold, due to their smaller mass. Again, I see the need to hire someone trustworthy to expedite the process for you."

"As to your relocation, one must think like the wealthy. In order to blend in you must live in an affluent area, an area where wealth is the expected norm. To do otherwise would draw attention, unless you plan to not spend any of the proceeds from the sales." The looks on Abby and Jose's faces clearly evidenced their intention to spend the money.

"The issue of your security is easily solved. It is only a matter of hiring the best to do the job. Much depends on where you eventually settle. Again, a location where others of wealth have settled will come with many security advantages. I know there are few of these enclaves left, but may I suggest a small city in the state of Florida? It is called Sarasota. A very lovely enclave of the rich—sensational amenities, world-class restaurants, a natural wildlife environment and full of luxury properties I would consider highly defensible. Getting you moved from here to there with the secrecy and security you have requested will be a bit more problematic. There are many loose ends to control, but it's not impossible. Clearly, this is simply a matter of the amount of investment you are looking to allocate to the endeavor."

Peter Gavin concluded his summary by outlining his attorney fees and looking up at them, again with the shy smile that appeared to be his trademark.

"Peter, we appreciate your obvious knowledge and quick grasp of what we need to do. We also appreciate the fact that you haven't intruded on our privacy. Jose and I would like a few minutes to talk. May we use another office?"

"No, no. Please, use my office. Take all the time you need to confer." Scrambling out from behind his desk, he hurried out to the hallway.

"Well, Ab, what do you make of this guy? Do you like him? Do you think he's the guy for us?" Jose looked at Abby, his eyebrows spiked, pensively rubbing his chin.

Abby looked quietly at Jose. "It's a little overwhelming to hear Peter outline what we must do. But he made it sound like we can certainly accomplish it. With someone's help, of course. That's what scares me. I don't want to be exposed to other people. My changes haven't even begun, except for some occasional aches on my tailbone. I'm sure I'll become even more hyper about exposure once my tail starts to grow."

"Do you like Peter's idea about Sarasota? It sounds good to me. I know you'll be happy wherever there's wildlife. It'll make Scotty happy too. And a sunny location will make Echo very happy."

"Yeah, that sounds fine to me. I think we'll all do better in a warm climate."

"Good. Abby, I have an idea. Do you feel really comfortable with Peter? We might have him take a larger role in our plans than we first thought. Would that be okay with you?"

"I suppose so, depending on what you have in mind. More important, I trust you and your intuition." Abby slid her hand over to Jose, squeezing it for a boost of reassurance.

Going to the hallway, Jose and Abby looked around for Peter Gavin. They found him in the reception room. Mr. Gavin appeared to be consoling his receptionist, his arm ineffectually patting her shoulder as she wildly gesticulated. They both looked up with grim expressions.

"Are you ready for me, Mr. Diaz?" Peter hurriedly escorted them back to his office where he slowly moved back behind his desk, his fingers tented and thoughtfully tapping. Abby could feel the dynamic of the room change. She decided to sit back and observe, letting Jose handle the rest of the meeting.

"Mr. Gavin—"

"Peter, please."

"Okay, Peter. I have a few odd questions for you and I ask for your patience."

Peter looked unaccountably uncomfortable. Jose and Abby glanced at each other, with Abby asking sharply, "Peter is there something you need to tell us?"

"Ms. Preston, before we continue our business relationship, I must confess to you that while we were in our meeting, two young men that I can only refer to as thugs, entered the reception room to strong-arm my receptionist into revealing the purpose of our meeting. I will not repeat the lewd threat made by one of them. We were just deciding whether we should contact the authorities to report them, when I realized that would compromise your privacy. I cannot have that. You are my clients, even though you have not yet engaged me."

Jose and Abby froze in their seats.

"I assure you, I do not judge my clients, but if you are involved in any activity that will break any laws or compromise the personal safety of anyone, I will be forced to decline to represent you." Peter made his pronouncement so softly, so gently, Jose knew they had their man. But would he agree to their proposal?

Diving in, he began, "Peter, I respect your position and I assure you, we're not involved in anything illegal. The men you mentioned are familiar to us. It's a story we'll disclose if you agree to accept our offer of employment. I _can_ tell you that Abby's mother recently died in a tragic accident that may have exacerbated some inappropriate feelings from a family member who took advantage of the moment and assaulted her. He didn't get as far as he intended, but it's clear to us that he'll try again.

"As I said, I have a few questions that you'll find a bit unusual. But I do have a purpose, if you can please bear with me. Are you married by any chance, Peter?"

"No, I'm not. Nor do I have any immediate plans to marry."

"Okay, that will make things a bit easier. I'd like to propose that you become the agent you suggested we hire to accomplish our plans. We feel that your personality, professionalism and expertise are just what we need."

"But—" Peter interrupted.

"I know," Abby said reassuringly, taking over the conversation after a quick glance at Jose and a subtle nod. "Your practice. We're hoping you can wind up your affairs as you begin to organize us. I propose that you either take on another associate to handle your other clients or refer them to other attorneys. We would like you to be available to us exclusively. It will mean quite a bit of traveling in the beginning. If we're satisfied with one another, it'll mean you'll have to relocate."

"You may be happy to hear that we have decided to move to Sarasota, Florida as you suggested. We'll need you to facilitate the purchase of an estate for us. Something private, with a guesthouse if possible. We'll work out the details on the house search later. We're hoping you'll live on the property with us, or at least nearby. We'll cover the cost of any living arrangements you make for yourself, with a generous allowance, separate from your salary. We realize we're asking a lot, but as you know we'll be able to make this financially advantageous to you. If, after one year, you decide to terminate our agreement, we'll pay you a $2 million bonus and wish you well." Taking a breath, Abby looked at Peter, waiting for an answer.

"I appreciate the faith you've placed in me. And your offer is very intriguing. But I must say, Abby, I have a small problem agreeing to something like this with someone whose eyes I cannot see." Peter made his remarks with a smile, but they could hear a sticking point.

Jose made a quick decision. Abby's change wasn't nearly as far along as his. They weren't in direct sunlight. She might get away with it. So, thinking quickly, he grinned smoothly and said, "Peter, I'm so sorry, sometimes we forget. Most of my family members inherited a propensity for a form of congenital conjunctivitis. It's not contagious." He nodded at Abby, who smoothly reached up and removed her glasses. She smiled at Peter and looked him straight in the eye.

"Jose is my distant cousin and unfortunately he gets it bad, can't even open his eyes in the light. I have a much better time with the condition, but the older I get the more sensitive I seem to be. My brother, Scotty, also has the condition." As she slipped her glasses back on without batting an eye, she smiled and said, "You'll be meeting Scotty soon enough."

_That's my girl_ , Jose thought proudly. _I think we're actually going to accomplish this._

"Well then, Abby, I must thank you for indulging me." Standing, he held out his hand to Abby and then to Jose. "I will put some details on paper and get contracts to you by tomorrow. I further suggest that we incorporate the three of you and make me an employee of the corporation. There are some tax advantages you would enjoy. I will put my salary specifications in the contract, subject to negotiation. Is that okay with you both? Please leave your contact numbers with my receptionist and we'll be in touch."

*

Watching Abby and Jose from the window of his office, Peter wondered why he had agreed to work for this interesting couple. He recognized himself as a very meek-mannered professional. He didn't like chaos in his life. He liked control. Women found him nebbish and only mildly successful. This was a poor county after all. He nursed his share of resentments as he was always passed over for the sharper guys in the room. At his age, he thought he would have married and had a few children by now. He thought he could support a family, as long as his wife worked too.

His clients were mostly African American, whites and the occasional Latino. No Muslims. They engaged their own Muslim attorneys; the imams. He, himself, did not support Sharia law. And this was a large Muslim area. Sighing, he realized he would probably never do any better than he already was. Perhaps this unusual opportunity meant he might find some adventure attractive?

He thought about Abby Preston; a very lovely woman. And single. His forehead beaded with perspiration at the ridiculous thought of the two of them together. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully dabbed the sweat from his brow. He removed his round eyeglasses leaving his owl eyes naked. Cleaning them off, he replaced them and turned his attention to the work piled up on his desk. Speculation about Ms. Preston must wait until later.

*

Scanning the street carefully, Abby and Jose hurried to the car, locking the doors behind them.

"You did good, Abby. We're on our way." Abby smiled and absently nodded her head, wondering how much more trouble Tomas would cause her. _What business did he have following them around town?_

"How come you haven't said anything about what happened in Peter's office?"

"I don't want you to worry. We've got it covered. Just keep the doors locked and we'll be out of here faster than you can say, _my brother has_ _a tail._ " Jose cracked up. Abby glared. "Come on, you've got to laugh. Let's go home and break out the blowtorches." They gave each other a high five and started the car.

Arriving home, they found Scotty on the sofa with Echo and Barney, the television turned to a news story which was playing softly in the background. Appraising the sofa, Jose noticed the beaten condition. Barney and Echo could sure be hard on the furniture.

Jose wanted to start melting down the gold, but he thought Scotty would do a better job than Abby. He didn't want to risk her getting burnt.

Walking over to shut off the television, he glanced at the news story. _Just some_ _politician. Hmm, They sure are an attractive family_. Turning up the volume, he heard the __ announcer say, "Senator Omar Nasir with his beautiful wife, Jane, and their charming fifteen-year-old daughter on the eve of the senator's announcement from his home in Sarasota, Florida. They are pleased to announce he will be seeking his party's nomination as the first Muslim president of the United States of America." Watching the happy family wave to the crowd, Jose caught a glimpse of someone he thought he recognized. An older man, in the crowd behind the senator's family . . . _Nah, can't be_. He didn't know anyone of note, certainly not someone in politics.

Sarasota again, a good omen. Snapping off the television, he clapped his hands.

"Come on, Scotty. Let's get cracking."

In the garage they carried a piece of gold over to a table Jose had set up and which was covered by thin metal, an ultra-fine mesh. On the mesh sat two small lead bowls. They planned to hold a piece of the gold with a pair of tongs over a bowl while holding a blow torch to the metal until it melted and dripped into the bowls. Simple but effective as gold melted easily. They could melt several eight-ounce quantities, easily selling them in the next two days.

That would give them plenty of cash to start Peter off with. Shortly after, Peter would sell a larger portion and they could leave. In the meantime, they might as well continue melting as much as time allowed. Maybe they could sell more when they hit the road—they would need a lot of cash, quickly. They needed to pay deposits before they could get the show on the road.

Leaving the melted gold to cool, the boys went to look for Abby. They found her in the kitchen, watching Echo and Barney frolic in the back yard.

"Do you see what I see?" Echo sat on the ground in the sunlight. Scotty and Jose looked out the window, not seeing anything unusual, but Jose didn't think it was a good idea for Echo to be outside any longer than necessary. Calling the buddies in, Jose noticed how the sunlight made Echo's antlers look like golden crystal.

He had noticed that phenomenon before. But today it looked like a new streaky swirly component had been added. Maybe that swirliness had attracted Abby's attention too. They took the two buddies over to the sofa. Abby turned on the overhead lights, sending Scotty to his bedroom to retrieve a flashlight he used to attract night crawlers when he needed good fishing bait.

Abby and Jose sat on each side of Echo, pushing Barney down on the floor. They turned on the flashlight, asking Echo if she minded if they take a look at her antlers. There was no response from Echo. Abby gave Jose a questioning look. He shrugged his shoulders and shined the light on the antlers. On closer examination, they could see that the antlers actually grew in a very fine design of crisscrossing cuts, very similar to the facets on a diamond. But it was the inside that caught their attention.

Looking closely, they could see dark-red swirls inside the antlers. They seemed to be swimming in some kind of liquid. They appeared very faint, almost undetectable. Jose noticed the pattern of swirls were random . . . yet they felt some kind of familiarity with the movement.

"Hmm. Scotty, do you have a magnifying glass?"

"No, but Mama Diaz had some kind of magnifier to read with. She kept in the kitchen drawer. I'll see if it's still there." Returning with the glass and passing it to Jose, they all leaned in to gaze at the substance.

"Oh."

"Ugh."

"What the heck?" They all jumped in surprise. There, swimming inside Echo's antlers were little blood-red, almost black, creatures. They looked like they were all head and tail. Almost like a polliwog, only tiny; very, very, tiny. Jose felt a chill in the room as their attention focused on the tiny creatures.

Jose wrinkled his nose in concern. Gently, he spoke to Echo, trying to figure out a way not to offend her. He decided a direct line would be the best.

"Echo, what's that inside your antlers?"

The rainbow pressure in their minds spoke matter-of-factly. "Brother, it is I."

"What do you mean by that, Echo?"

"I am me, just like you are inside of you. Do you admire my antlers? They are very beautiful. They are very important to my mission."

"Echo," Jose said. "You speak of your mission and the fact that we'll help you. Can you tell us about your mission and exactly how do you want us to help? Has your mission started yet?"

The golden aura swirled gently and silently.

"Echo?"

"Brother Jose, there are many bad Brothers and Sisters. Your species was a mistake. Your species does not fit. I am here to make a new fit."

"Echo, what does that mean?" Abby asked, confused and a little alarmed. She knew Echo thought rather literally. But the literal interpretation of what Echo said sounded scary.

"Do not fear, Sister Abby. I told you I am here to protect you. I have chosen you all. You are my family now. You will always be happy and in time you will be an Elder. That is the greatest honor in any universe. It comes from the creator." _God_ , thought Jose, _what did he have to do with this?_ The aura receded and they knew Echo would say no more. Clambering off the sofa, Echo joined Barney on the floor, where she stood by his side like a faithful soldier.

"I don't think we need to be alarmed. Echo is not the one to worry about. Scotty, please be extra careful. We think Armoni and Tomas are spying on us. When they start to see the activity involved in getting us out of here, it might encourage them to pull something. As soon as we get our hands on the money from our first sale, I would like to consider hiring an armed guard to be stationed here at the house and one to accompany us on our errands. Abby, what do you think?"

"If you think so, Jose. Scotty does seem awfully vulnerable here alone at the house. And I shudder to think what they might do to Echo should they find her." Their minds flashed with a quick aura.

"Sister, you can count on me. No bad men will hurt you." Abby looked at Echo and slid down on the floor to take her in her arms. Abby rained kisses on Echo's face.

"Sweetie, I love your optimism and your generosity. But this beautiful world of ours can be an ugly place sometimes, and we need to protect you."

Auras immediately brightened. "Sister, you are so wise. I am glad you understand. We will work together." Abby looked at Scotty and Jose with raised quizzical eyebrows. Ruefully she shook her head, kissed Echo one further time and announced she felt like pancakes for dinner, any takers?

Dinner was a fun riotous affair. They'd been so busy lately they had forgotten to take time to relax and be silly, to be young, instead of responsible adults forced to handle such a bizarre situation. They did find the desire to eat had diminished; it was not as stimulating as before their change. But Barney made up for it, a true bottomless pit. Echo insisted Barney have a chair for himself so he could sit at the table. She dragged a chair to the table and tried to lift Barney up, tugging and pushing while Barney just turned to watch. They decided Echo would have better luck trying to pull a kitten off a sardine truck than getting the fat dog up on a chair. What a pair. They sure brought lots of the laughter into the house.

The three of them discussed their plans for tomorrow. They decided Scotty would go with Jose this time so he could meet Peter when Jose stopped by his office to review the contracts and answer a few more questions. They hoped Peter would have some kind of a timetable for them so they could plan their move.

One of the most important things they must do was secure the gold and the diamond rocks. They decided that half the diamonds should go into a large safety deposit box in Manhattan; especially the largest of the stones. The balance should be delivered to them in Sarasota with some of the gold. Peter himself would secure most of the gold in storage somewhere in Manhattan where it would be centrally located for buyers.

Once they agreed on the schedule for the next day, Scotty pulled out his list of demands for the new house. Of course, it included every electronic device known to man.

Abby ruffled his hair, laughing. "Make sure you put a tutor on your list. You're special, but not special enough to miss your studies. This reprieve for you won't last forever."

"I don't need to finish school, we're rich now. I can do what I want."

Abby turned, giving Scotty the stink eye. "I'm very sorry to hear you talk like that, Scotty. You sound like a spoiled brat and we don't have a dollar of the money in our hands yet. I suggest you change your tune, right now. Mom would be ashamed of you."

"Gee, Abby, relax. Can't a guy dream a little without you getting in a twist?"

Abby cleared the table, Jose jumping up to help her. She put an arm around his shoulder, guiding him back to his chair and absentmindedly kissed him on his head. Downing a glass of water, he let out a big burp, ducked the towel Abby threw at him and went off to bed.

Saying good night, Abby decided to get some sleep herself.

*

After washing up, Abby sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her spine and lower back. The area now ached fulltime. As she pressed down, she could feel tender swelling. She knew what it meant. She felt nervous, yet excited. Neither Scotty nor Jose had fully displayed their tails, but what she had seen of them was magnificent. But this sure would be easier for her if she could talk to her mama.

Sometimes she felt as if a breakdown awaited her. Between the stress of all the life changes they planned to make and the inability to fully mourn her mother's death, she lacked the time to pay full attention to her changes. She knew she should. She must be prepared to understand how her new body would work. Maybe it would help if she had girlfriends. Sometimes she found her loneliness difficult to cope with. She made a very determined effort to hide her feelings from Jose and Scotty, but they wore her down.

She wondered if Echo sensed her turmoil. As exciting as their new life promised to be, it was still filled with uncertainty. She wondered if things would work out with Peter. They hardly knew him. She reasoned they needed the help and must trust someone.

She thought they really should limit their exposure in public. Glancing toward the bedroom mirror, she stared at her eyes. She could see the difference from the bed. It made her appear very exotic. It was surprising she had got away with it in Peter's office. _What_ _the heck?_

Getting up from the bed, she went to the mirror, looking closely. Was that gray hair mixed in with her auburn? Picking through the strands of her hair, she isolated the errant strand and plucked it out. Giving it a glance before she threw it in the trash, she did a double take. It wasn't gray. It looked like a fiber of spun gold. Quickly looking through her hair she noticed more and more of the little fibers. The new growth on her head was growing in gold! Well, that was certainly not going to go unnoticed. The fibers had a faint glow to them. She would not look like an ordinary blonde, that was for sure. Now she knew the real reason behind Scotty and Jose's punky look, it was their gold hair growing in. Donning her robe, she slipped into the hall and tapped on Jose's door. Entering the room, she failed to see Echo or Barney. They must be sleeping with Scotty tonight.

"What's up, Abby?" Jose sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning, his blanket falling down to expose his well-developed chest and strong shoulders draped by his golden tail.

Abby went right up to his bed and sat down, bending her head down to his face to show him her hair. Misunderstanding, Jose placed his hands on the side of her face. Whispering her name with a groan, he drew her lips to his without hesitation. In shock, Abby didn't resist, feeling the warmth of Jose's desire for her. His arms enfolded her in a strong embrace, pulling her down until she lay alongside him. She realized what would happen and pulled back.

"Jose, this is wrong."

"No, Abby, this is so right. I'm crazy about you, you have to know that." Stunned, she let Jose pull her back down so her head rested on his pillow. With another groan, he gathered her in his arms and their lips met. Unfamiliar feelings washed over her. Her heart beat uncontrollably. Her body responded on its own as Jose's hand parted her robe. _Oh no, this had better stop._

But she felt so nice, his kisses overwhelming. He felt so strong. Her fingers tripped over his hard warm chest. Her legs parted as he lifted himself up over her. _Oh my gosh, is this what I want?_ She felt his weight press down on her. Looking up into his gleaming gold eyes she found herself lost in the familiar beautiful lines of his face.

"Abby, baby, is this what you want?" Kissing her breast, he stuttered, lost in the unexpected moment. "Gosh, Abby, please tell me you want this, I love you so much."

Abby actually didn't know what she wanted at all. But she loved the feeling of Jose's arms around her, and his hard body pressed up to hers felt maddening. Her loneliness begged for release. Smiling and running her hands through his thick black and blond wavy hair, she drew him down into her and surrendered.

# Chapter 14

Abby overslept. Waking up in Jose's room alone, she stretched, savoring the new feeling Jose had awakened in her during her delirious night with him. The depth of her feelings for Jose surprised her. She had always viewed him as an ally, a chum. She trusted him fully. She thought of him as almost a brother, even though they hadn't grown up together as infants. Good thing they weren't related. Her feelings astonished her, exploding with just a kiss. How could she have been so oblivious? What did that say about her? Was she normal? She knew for sure she felt fantastic. Grinning to herself, she made a promise not to get all dopey about this. _But it felt so_ _good._ She didn't feel alone anymore. _Could that really change overnight?_

Sitting up in the rumpled bed, her body groaned with unusual aches, a reminder of the intimate evening. Stretching, her hand brushed a slip of paper sticking out from under her pillow. Smoothing the creased note, she read:

Good morning, sleepyhead. You looked so beautiful, I couldn't bear to wake you. I want to get Scotty out of the house before he makes an accidental discovery. We can figure out how to handle that when I get back from our errands. The security company is sending a guard for the house starting tomorrow. Keep the doors locked until we are back! I love you. J

_I love you?_ Smiling, she held the note to her breast. How did she want to handle _it_ with Scotty? Thinking it over as she dressed in a pretty teal jumper for Jose, she got a flash. Of course, Jose wanted them to be a couple. She smiled to herself; hoping she wouldn't act like a grinning fool all day.

Walking into the living room, she noted how empty and quiet it sounded, the cheap plastic clock sitting lonely on the wall, celebrating its chance to be heard as its proud ticking proclaimed the hour well past twelve noon. She spotted Barney and Echo curled up in the corner sleeping, Barney's wet nose snorting as he breathed into Echo's crinkled ear. She had certainly overslept. Blood suffused her cheeks as she remembered how they had spent their time: whispering and touching long into the early hours of the morning.

Turning into the kitchen, still filled with the dirty dishes from yesterday she had neglected, she heard the doorbell ring. _What now?_ Jose and Scotty would not be back this quickly. Peering out the window, she saw Kimir's father, with the boy in tow. She had totally forgotten about Kimir's mother's threat to send her husband to talk to them. Well, she did not intend to let the happy cloud she was floating on be blown away.

She quickly donned her sunglasses and opened the door. Saying hello, she thanked Kimir and his father for coming, firmly suggesting they come back later this evening when Scotty and Jose would be home. Quickly closing the door on them, she leaned up against the frame from the inside of the house, proud of how she had handled them. Thinking of last night again, she decided to make a cup of her favorite tea and do some more daydreaming. _What the heck_.

Selecting her favorite teacup, she slipped in a tea bag, breathing in the tea's spicy fragrance, reminiscent of the weekends she had spent laughing with her mother as they chopped veggies for dinner.

_Was that the front door rattling?_ She thought she heard a noise from the living room. As her heart started to pound, she realized she had forgotten to lock the door. She looked up with trepidation to find Tomas standing in the doorway, his face a study in malevolence. Behind him, she could see a base little man with a big blotchy weasel face and bow legs. _Could that be Armoni?_ Her heart shot to her throat as she dropped her teacup, splashing tea all over her teal jumper.

"What are you doing here, Tomas? I didn't hear you knock. Hey, you . . . _just what do_ _you think you're doing?_ Get out of there." Abby spied Armoni opening the door to the garage. Marching over to him, she slammed the door. Turning back to Tomas, she opened her mouth to order them to leave when she felt something slam into her back, knocking her to the floor. Dazed, she rolled over and watched Armoni rubbing his hand, his face cratered with acne, spittle collecting in the corners of his twisted mouth. At the front door, she saw another figure. Kelly. She held something in her hands . . . chains?

"Listen, Ms. Hot Shit Bitch, shut your friggin' mouth. Kelso, get over here with my equipment." Grabbing her arms, Armoni twisted them painfully up over her head. With his other hand he grabbed her jumper and ripped it down the front, exposing her breasts. She screamed. Grabbing a breast he kneaded it painfully. Abby struggled, trying to kick him with her feet. She must get them out of the house before they discovered Echo. As Armoni held her pinned to the floor, she could hear Barney barking. _Not a good sign_. Suddenly, Tomas grabbed Armoni and hauled him off her.

"You promised, Armoni. You got all the others. This one is mine. I get her first." Belligerence turned Tomas's face a mottled purple. She struggled to her feet in time to see Barney leap up at Armoni, who reached out and gave him a vicious raving kick with his steel-toed shitkickers, catapulting him across the room. Barney's skull cracked hard on the wall where he collapsed in a lifeless heap, blood draining from his nostrils.

"Barney!" Abby screamed. Whirling around, she flew at Tomas, beating on his face with all the vengeance of the Furies. Armoni grabbed her from behind, calling to Kelly to get the needle. _Needle?_ Abby panicked. As she felt a prick on her neck, she saw Echo run over to Barney.

"No, Echo honey, run." She watched Echo wrap her little arms around Barney's neck and lay her head on his. The room filled with sulfur as Echo's tail shot up over her head, directed at Barney. Echo then twirled to Kelly who stood with a syringe in her hands, her mouth open with astonishment.

"Armoni, check this out," Kelly called, a new strangled note in her voice. In unison, they turned toward Echo as her crystal antlers peeled open from the ends, omitting a dark-red stream of liquid gunk that splattered all over Kelly. As Abby sank to the floor fighting unconsciousness, she felt the flutter of a swirling aura in her mind.

"I am here, Sister. I will take care of the bad humans. Banish your fear." The last thing she remembered was the malignant sight of the black-red crud covering Kelly dissolving her face to the bone; leaving her stripped and consumed skeleton to collapse face first onto the floor. She distantly heard a raving scream and then she passed out.

*

Scotty and Jose headed home from Peter Gavin's inauspicious office, the contracts for Abby to review tucked in a file at Scotty's side. Peter had already started his research, proving how diligent and enthused he felt toward their new partnership.

An armored truck was on the way, scheduled to pick up the bulk of the gold and the uncut diamonds tomorrow. Peter had already obtained a commitment for thirty pounds of the gold. When he had completed the transaction, he would fly to Florida to meet with a realtor to start the search for their new home. As soon as the gold and diamonds were logged in and secured with the armored truck, they would pack and await the arrival of a hired limousine that would take them to Norristown, where they would check into a suite at the best hotel Peter could find. Abby would visit the local gold dealers to convert some more of the melted gold, then they would continue south to Florida, stopping at the occasional good hotel to rest and give Echo a chance to _eat_ of course.

Pulling into the driveway, Jose whipped off his sunglasses, unbelieving. The front door flapped in the breeze, wide open. They jumped out of the car, not bothering to shut the doors, and raced up the short cement walkway, the smell of sulfur overpowering. They detected an underlying stench of rot. _Good God, no. Please, Abby, be okay._ Jose's heart thundered; his skin was clammy with dread.

Stepping through the front door, Jose and Scotty were assailed with a riotous flashing aura. Echo lay plastered to Abby, golden leathery fingers stroking her blanched face as she lay sprawled on the floor like a wooden puppet discarded by a capricious child, the front of her wrinkled jumper torn to shreds. Unbelievably, two human skeletons also lay prostrate on the floor, the bones old and dissected.

"Welcome Brothers. Sister Abby will not wake up. The vile evil humans are exterminated except for the one that ran away. He hurt Sister. I will find him and make him exterminated."

Their stunned and unbelieving minds couldn't process Echo's whispers. Horribly and undeniably, Abby lay on the floor not moving. Jose ran to her side, gently pushing Echo away. He put his hands to her fragile throat, feeling the warmth, her pulse strong. Relief flooded Jose's senses. She was alive.

"Jose, should we call for help? An ambulance?" Scotty held up his cellphone.

"No. They'll take too long to get here anyway. We can handle this, as long as she's alive. We can heal her can't we, Echo?"

"No, Brothers, she does not need to be healed. She is just sleeping and won't wake up. It has been many hours." Jose scanned the area, grabbing a handy throw pillow from the sofa to place under Abby's head. He felt a bulge under his foot and bent down to retrieve a disposable syringe, its needle bent from stepping on it. Foreboding jammed its way down his throat to lodge like a leech in the pit of his stomach.

"Echo, did you see what they used this for?"

"No, Brother Jose," The aura spiked frantically. "My Barney was dying. They did evil and hurt him. I needed to save him before he died or it would have been too late." Echo got up and ran to the back of the sofa. "My Barney hides. He will not come out to be with me. They hurt My Barney. Brother Jose, please tell My Barney it is safe now." Jose moved the sofa from the wall where Barney huddled, trickling urine over himself in fright, shivering uncontrollably.

"Hey, boy, come on out. It's okay. We're home now. Yes, that's my boy, come on," he coaxed softly. Wrapping his arms around Barney, he placed him on the sofa, where Echo could get to him. He quickly returned to Abby. It seemed to him that she had probably been injected with something meant to subdue her while a rape took place. He couldn't imagine they would want to kill her. Scotty grabbed a T-shirt from Abby's room and they pulled it down over her head. As they did so, he watched her eyes twitch and then flutter. Her consciousness surfaced and his relief was so palpable he thought he might urinate all over himself too.

Scotty flopped down next to Jose holding ugly chains in his hand, his face deceptively calm.

"I found these next to one of the skeletons. I don't know what happened here, but we need to go, now. I'm scared, Jose."

"Yeah, you got that right. Stay here with Abby. Let me make a call. Make sure the gold's still in the garage for me first, okay champ?"

Calling Peter's office while Scotty checked on the gold, he explained he wanted the armored car at his house in two hours, even if they had to fly it there. He would give the limo the same instructions. They were to be taken to Norristown where Peter would meet them sometime after work. Hanging up, he told Scotty to pack enough clothes for three days. They could buy anything else they needed on the road.

Before Scotty started to pack, Jose asked him to box up some of the diamond rocks to take with them. They also needed to box up the equipment they used to melt the gold, along with five or six of the gold pieces. That would be at least fifty pounds, more than enough to see them through, even if they got separated from the armored car.

He went to the kitchen and prepared a wet cloth to place on Abby's forehead. She appeared sluggish, but warm color in her complexion chased away her pinched and gray face. She struggled to focus her eyes, slowly realizing Jose knelt over her.

She started to sob, holding her arms out to him. He wrapped her up in a bear hug, softly kissing her head as he rocked them together, grateful they could be on their way to safety in a few hours.

*

As Scotty passed through to the garage, he contemplated his sister. Had he just heard Jose say, 'I love you, babe, it's okay'? The scene looked awfully intimate to him. He glanced back at the couple. Geesch, Abby was kissing Jose now. He continued on to the garage, not entirely pleased with the obvious signals they were sending. If Abby found happiness, he would be the first to celebrate, God knew she deserved it; but Jose? He was practically their brother. Well, kinda. But he was _Scotty's_ go-to guy. His best bud. _His_. Not Abby's. Now they wanted each other. Echo had Barney. He had no one. He'd be eighteen soon, a tough time for any teenager on the cusp of manhood. Shaking his head in confusion, he wondered if things could get much worse.

Placing a box of the uncut rocks near the front door, he watched Echo cradling Barney's head in her arms, her head against the fur around his face as if whispering quietly to him. Barney relaxed, much calmer now. It didn't take much to make Echo happy if Barney was involved.

Glancing at the skeletons on the floor, he wondered when they would get the details on those two gems. Maybe he should pack them up too. They certainly couldn't leave them here. Glancing over to the couple, he prepared to ask Jose what he thought. He watched Jose pick up Abby and carry her toward the bedrooms. Grabbing a few more boxes, he made the decision to stuff the skeletons in, grimacing as he placed the boxes at the door with the rest of their stuff.

Scotty knocked on Abby's bedroom door. Jose motioned him in grimly, patting a spot on the bed for him to sit. Abby reached out and searched for Scotty's hand.

"It was Tomas and Kelly, and some other guy. I guess it must have been Kelly's brother, Armoni. He's a real prize. I stopped him from getting into the garage, though. I thought they killed Barney. _The fucking bastards._ " Her lips moved with no sound, her anguish robbing her of her voice. She swallowed hard, breathing deep.

"He tried to protect me. Echo saved us." Abby held her face in her hands, hiccupping as her tears leaked through her fingers to stain her comforter. They waited while she recovered her composure.

Looking up at her brother and her new love, she whispered, "They stuck me with a needle. Then I saw Echo kill Kelly. It was awful. Her antlers split open and the little things inside flew to Kelly and just ate her face off. I heard the others screaming and then I blacked out."

Jose met Scotty's eyes. Turning back to Abby, he explained what they had seen upon returning home. Abby's face drained of color. Looking to Scotty for confirmation, he nodded his head.

"Skeletons? Only two? But there were three of them. One of the guys must have gotten away. Who was it? We need to do something, Jose, he'll be back." Her voice rose, verging on hysteria.

Jose put his arms around her. "Abby, we'll be gone within two hours. The arrangements have been made. I'll pack for you. If you feel up to it, I need you to go through the house and collect any keepsakes you want to take. We'll never come back here. It won't be safe; ever. This is a permanent goodbye to Lily Pond Road."

Hearing the doorbell ring, he peeked out the window and spotted the armored truck.

"That was fast. I have to handle this. Let's get a move on now. Our car will be here any minute. We should be gone as soon as we get loaded. There's much more that we need to talk about. We'll have to do that in the car. Abby, you okay? Scotty?" When they nodded their heads, Jose left to answer the door.

"Abby, is this what you want?" Scotty asked as soon as they were alone. At the questioning look on her face, Scotty said, "You know what I mean. Jose?" Abby took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Scotty, you know I love you more than life. You've always been my baby boy. But I've learned that there needs to be more to be a whole person. That day will come for you too. I pray you'll have an easy time. I'll help do whatever it takes, under our unusual circumstances, to make that happen for you. But regarding Jose? I need to see what this is about. The three of us care deeply about one another and that will never change. Jose will always be your best buddy. It's just that my feelings for him are different now." She smiled gently. "And I'm happy. Or at least I will be if we get the heck out of here. I need some happiness to have the strength to get through this. Do you understand, kiddo?"

Scotty thought he did understand but he wasn't happy himself. Maybe that would change over time. Right now, he knew he had better support Abby and Jose and hold up his end. There would be more time to think this through once they were in Florida.

*

Abby shook out her hair, pulling it back to secure it with an old-fashioned scrunchie that had belonged to her mother. She stiffened her spine and got out of bed to help with the hasty packing. Returning to the living room, she noticed the skeletons were gone. She wondered what the boys had done with them. Looking out the window, she saw Jose standing with two uniformed men. They signed something and gave it to Jose.

After they drove off, she saw their limo had been parked unnoticed behind the armored car. She had better hurry now. Someone was sure to notice the unusual vehicles and come poking around. Stuffing her ruined jumper under her arms, she dumped it, along with the memories of today's events, like a curdled carton of milk into the trash.

# Chapter 15

Armoni paced back and forth, muttering to himself in the dirty greasy kitchen with the basement door opened to what they used to call the fun house. No time for more of that. That uppity bitch and her fucking little nightmare gremlin had put an end to that.

He couldn't escape the image of Kelly's face covered with the funky shit that had popped out of the little nightmare's horns. He should have stomped the little shit when he had the chance. Kelly's dissolving face and her fucking screams would haunt him for a long time.

But he had a scheme. As he busily reworked it in his mind, he decided it could be sensational. He reviewed the events at Tomas's old house. When the action had got hinky, he decided to check out fast, cutting through the garage. And, on his way out, he quickly grabbed one of the big gold lumps stacked all over the place. _Holy shit, no wonder that_ _bitch hadn't wanted us in there_. _Where the hell did they get all that gold?_ Just a pure stroke of good luck, he mustered the good sense to grab a piece—it must be worth a fortune.

But his scheme needed refining if he didn't want to get caught. Yeah, he wanted to get back to that garage, you bet your ass. He wasn't going to let them get away with what they had done to him without getting his share of the gold.

It would be dark soon. He planned to go back for the gold as soon as he thought everyone would be soundly asleep in their beds. If he couldn't get in the front or back door, he planned to break in through the garage door. He relentlessly paced, thinking about his plans for that uppity bitch the next time he got her alone.

*

He pulled up to the house on Lily Pond Road in the pathetic Volkswagen, rolling down the window to let in fresh air, the sound of crickets masking the cooling tick of the old vehicle. He needed the car close by so he could load the gold quickly. A beat-up old truck sat innocently in the driveway, the house shrouded in dark silence. _They must be asleep_.

Flexing his arms, popping his knuckles, he figured the timing was perfect. Crouching and crawling to the garage door, he pulled on the lock. It moved. Curiously, it wasn't locked. Praising his good fortune, he raised the door part way and slid under. Hardly able to contain his glee, he took a flashlight out of his pocket. Shining it upward, he illuminated a very empty garage.

" _What the fuck?_ " He ran to the connecting door to the house, ripping it open. Evidence of a hasty departure lay strewn on the floors: forlorn empty boxes still awaiting their share of possessions. Running through the hollow echoing house, he confirmed it was deserted. _Damn, too late._ _They've slipped out of my hands_. Well, at least he still owned one piece. That would last him a long time. He just needed to make a new plan. This wasn't the end of anything. And as soon as he figured it out, he might just start with that pissant gay-boy lawyer in Newtown he had caught them with the other day. He got psyched just thinking about having a little sit-down with the juicy Tiffany.

He didn't care how long it took to track them down. That bitch and her freaky pet hadn't seen the end of him.

# Chapter 16

The dark-skinned unusually attractive man placed his foot softly on the plush apricot carpet that molded the carved mahogany stairs, stopping to admire his hand-tooled Italian leather loafers. He would have to remember to pick up another pair in Cordovan the next time he flew to Italy. He made a note to have his assistant call ahead to order them.

Leaving the carpeted treads, he mounted another set of stairs, bare and unembellished, which led to the attic tucked far away from the rest of the mansion. Standing in front of the attic door, he tried to juggle the tray in his hand while he searched for the key that would unlock the plain nondescript oak door. Locating the key in his silk-lined pocket, he carefully inserted it in the keyhole. He listened for sounds, hoping she would be sleeping. It was so much more difficult when she was awake. He found her wailing tiresome.

He adjusted the smile on his face, deepening the dimples in his seamless cheeks. Not too many people could boast a grin as famous as his. He could say anything he wanted and still be believable as long as he flashed his famous dimples. His brilliant white teeth—all caps, but worth every penny—contrasted handsomely with his dusky complexion. Turning the lock, he entered the silent room.

She rocked slowly, a handmade stuffed doll in her fragile right arm; her left arm flaccid and unmoving, was tethered to the arm of the hard wooden chair she sat in. When she looked toward him, he noticed the vacant look in her damaged eyes had not improved.

He set the tray down on the small oak dresser he allowed her to have—no sense making her too comfortable. He saw that her thick blond hair could use the service of a hairdresser. Drool pooled on her lovely chin and crusted there. It appeared as if she had lost more weight.

He could not have that. It would be commented on. He must have everything appear as normal as possible when she left the attic.

Taking out his cellphone, he pressed a button. Within a few minutes, two men entered the room. They both carried the kind of bulk that screamed, "Don't even think about it." One carried apparatus that could only be described as a feeding tube.

The screaming and begging started as soon as she recognized the tube. The men picked her up and tied her to the bed. She was trying to bite the hands that held her down, but to no avail. Shaking his head in disgust, he left the room. He would allow her one week to snap out of it, even though he knew it looked unlikely. He hoped his backup plan would show some results. He had invested almost a year in the project and time was running out.

He decided to make a call, unwilling to wait any longer. The campaign was starting to suffer without her appearance. He changed into his boat shoes and walked out the French doors to the terrace.

His panoramic view of Sarasota Bay was the best that money could buy, showcasing the boats tethered to his dock; the smaller unrecognizable thirty-eight-foot Bertram was being made ready for his trip across the bay where he would dock at Marina Jacks. It was only a short three-block walk from there to the mosque.

He hurried down the formal garden path bordered by his wife's favorite yellow tea roses and made his way to the slip, quickly boarding along with his two bodyguards. Casting off, he gave them both instructions to stay with the yacht.

Going below, he donned his disguise before emerging as an elderly gentleman of vague Middle-Eastern distinction. Nodding to his bodyguards, he hardly noticed the small school of dolphins amusing themselves in the wake of the yacht as it skimmed across the breathtaking bay in the shadow of Ringling Bridge.

The occasional wave sent cold spray back into his now lined and aged face. He glanced down at his hands, recognizing how damp his palms were. He rubbed them lightly on his baggy cotton pants. A shiver passed through him, making his stomach spasm with fear. Stoically, he shook it off. His only thoughts swirled around the bottomless power and iron fists of the important men he would soon meet.

# Chapter 17

The drive to Norristown took about an hour with no traffic other than the occasional late night gin mill patron. It felt like they were on the lam, stealing away like guilty thieves in the night. Leaving the house so chock full of treasured and vibrant memories was so difficult. A feeling of deserting her mother washed over Abby as the limo sped along the highway. Scotty moodily kept to himself in the corner of the car, a dog carrier in which to hide Echo when necessary at his feet.

Echo and Barney sat next to each other, noses pressed to the smoked glass of the limo. The limo driver, if need be, communicated with them through an intercom as their compartments were segregated by an opaque partition, creating complete privacy. For the first time in days, they felt safe.

Five pieces of gold, individually wrapped in old wrinkled paper bags, sat on the seat with them. They had decided not to let the gold out of their sight until Jose had melted it down to be converted into cash, and they planned to spend a week in Norristown while he completed the task. Half the cash would be deposited in an account and safety deposit box in Norristown's largest local bank, The Doyle Farmer's Trust. The rest would remain safely with them.

Arriving at the hotel, they relied on their driver to check them in while they took the gold, Barney, his dog food, and Echo in her dog carrier up to the penthouse. There they found two well-appointed bedrooms, a deluxe gourmet kitchen, and a living room and dining room furnished with antiques. With a glance at Abby and Jose, Scotty took the smaller bedroom. Although it could hardly be called small and allowed plenty of room for Barney and Echo in the big bed with him.

After putting the _Do Not Disturb_ sign out, Jose sat them all, including Echo, at the mahogany dining room table. They all felt a bit sheepish and intimidated by their surroundings, having never laid eyes on such luxury and excess. All rich jewel-tone fabrics, wainscoting and marble. The enormous hand-painted ceilings were enough on their own to make them feel intimidated. Their whole house would have fitted into the mirrored entry hall and crushed bourbon-colored velvet living room alone. Wishing circumstances were different, they realized celebrating their good fortune must wait. They must deal with the fact that two people had died; quite a dampener on things.

"Well, is anyone going to tell me what happened to the skeletons that sat in our living room just a few hours ago?" The audible tension in Abby's voice reminded the others of the problem.

"We have them," Scotty said.

"What do you mean, we have them?" Abby's face looked shocked.

Jose reached over and took her hands, trying to reassure her, wanting her to stay calm as they tried to work this out. "Abby, we couldn't leave them behind. When they were discovered, and they would have been, the authorities would have to come find us. It doesn't matter that we didn't do anything wrong or that they planned to harm you. They deserved to die. I've heard rumors about Armoni and Kelly for a long time—serious, disturbing rumors. Tomas fell under their spell, attracted to whatever fueled their psychotic behavior. There was nothing we could do to change that. If your mother and Hiro hadn't been hit by that truck, maybe we wouldn't have been a target for them. But sooner or later they would have met a similar fate. It was only a matter of time."

"Please, I don't want to know any more about them." She held up her hands, attempting to ward off the noxious information.

"Echo, do you understand what you did?"

Golden auras flashed in their minds. "Oh yes, Sister Abby, I exterminated the bad humans. It was most necessary. They were a scourge with a hate toward all other life on this planet, especially fellow humans. They were no longer in balance. They hurt you." The aura dimmed; the room filling with silence. Then the auras whispered in gray tones. "They were predators. They tried to kill My Barney. He was dying. They did not deserve to live. That is the law and always will be." Echo said nothing further, even though they tried to get her to explain what she meant by the law. Maybe she simply meant the U.S. laws.

"Now, as you all realize, one of the guys got away." Jose's face looked harsh and determined. "I don't know what that's going to mean for us, but we'd better keep on our toes. I don't know who survived, Tomas or Armoni, but he'll be gunning for us. The good thing is, he probably won't be able to find us. What will he do without any money anyway? When it comes right down to it, they were just local scumbags," Jose said. "Why don't you take Barney to the kitchen, Echo, and get him some chow? Fill his bowl with water . . . thank you." Jose wanted to raise a new subject.

"We know Mama Diaz and the girls didn't move in with Tomas. I suspect the only reason he suggested they move out was so that we would be more vulnerable. I think they may have been after Scotty's gold coin. It's the only thing that makes sense. But that still leaves the problem of Mama Diaz's whereabouts. I'd like to suggest we put Peter on the case and have him hire a detective to find them. If they're willing, I'd like to bring them to Sarasota with us. We can't have them in the house with us, obviously." He waved his tail. "But we can get them a house on the same street. I would feel much better if I knew they were with us, okay?"

"But how would we explain our sudden wealth?" Abby asked.

"What about the truth?" Scotty proposed. They all looked at one another in surprise.

"Well, I guess we could. But without knowing how they would react, I'm not sure. Can we think that one over for a while? I don't think I'm ready for more people to know our secret or about Echo. It makes me very uncomfortable. And how would we hide our eyes from them? Won't they question the constant sunglasses?" Abby's face reflected her doubts.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that, but I guess it wouldn't be a problem if we tell them the truth." Rubbing his eyes, Jose felt the stress overwhelm him. He felt tired; so much happened in such a short period of time. Standing up, he pulled Abby to her feet, tipped her head back and looked into her eyes. She smiled.

"Let's go to bed, babe. We can figure this out tomorrow." Saying good night to Scotty, they headed arm in arm to their bedroom. _Their_ bedroom, Jose thought, beholding Abby's smile again. _Could things get any better than this?_

# Chapter 18

Omar stood on the terrace, watching his lanky teenage daughter with her diving instructor as he drilled her in their Olympic-sized in-ground pool. Always a bright, sweet cooperative child, she bore no resemblance to her uncooperative mother. The fact that his heroin-addled wife had not given birth to her went unnoticed by all but his most trusted men. His loss of patience with his wife was hardly surprising as Jane slowly became more difficult to control. He had hoped that obtaining the child for her after the death of their own infant would satisfy her and she would become more malleable. No such luck.

He idly wondered when this adopted country of his would get its act together on the health front. It was inexcusable not to provide the best medical care to those who could afford it. Let the masses languish in the bureaucracy of socialized managed care; he paid plenty to avoid being lumped in with them. But even he must admit getting access to government vaccines was wishful thinking. Like the one for polio. U.S. distribution was mired in red tape, inefficiencies and incompetence. And the virus did not discriminate.

He glanced at his watch, noting the time for his wife's injection approached. She must be getting very jumpy by now. He must remember to avoid her until she got her next shot. He detested his wife, especially when she begged for her fix; her revolting behavior offended his sensibilities. He chafed at the demands his handlers required of him in their quest to ensure he became the Socialist New World Party's nominee for presidential office. He agreed with the imams, he did need a proper Anglo-Saxon wife and child for public consumption. And Jane came from a solid American family, one well known in the breadbasket of the country. Her family owned a very successful produce and cattle farm which had been passed down through the generations, keeping it in the family. Best of all, they didn't rely on government farm subsidies. That made them very popular with the common folk and good for his career.

The fact that his heritage was Middle Eastern was no longer the obstacle that it once was, thanks to the emergence of the Muslim Brotherhood Party. But the Socialist New World Party held the power and controlled the country. Some thought they always would. Which is why, decades ago, the Brotherhood had prepared for this eventual possibility; with him. Yes, the Brotherhood's Manchurian candidate. He smiled ironically.

To the world, he appeared to be the rising hope of the SNW __ Party; the party that had always bent over backward to their own detriment, constantly displaying their ridiculous political correctness and obvious hypocrisy. The party that believed keeping their constituency down and perpetually needy was the way to control them.

The radical Brotherhood's constituency was huge. Out of fear, the SNW decided they could do an end run around the Brotherhood by offering their own Muslim candidate. He was Muslim, but not too Muslim; dark, but not too dark. With a socially-acceptable blond American wife from the heartland of the country, it would be an easy win over the Muslim candidate who would be offered by the Brotherhood; a candidate they planned to ensure would lose the election, handing the victory to him.

But even his handlers weren't aware of his deepest commitment to the hidden agenda of the _real_ power behind the Brotherhood. With his election, the SNW Party would be secretly headed by none other than The Salafis; the deepest, darkest enemy of the west and feared even by their own radical Muslim supporters. They would finally be in a position to destroy the evil in the west as they had long sworn to do, blaming another country in the process.

He heard laughter coming from the pool. The sounds diverted his attention back to the present and he watched his daughter execute a perfect dive off the board. He decided he would have lunch served out on the terrace where she could join him. He enjoyed taking more of an interest in her now that she no longer chased after her mother's skirts like a child. He actually enjoyed watching the development of the person she showed signs of becoming. Yes, he could admit it. He nurtured a deep fondness for her.

He had not expected that reaction when Brooks had delivered the infant to them over a decade ago. She had been such a good baby. Knowing they could not lose her to another polio epidemic surely helped—one of the many requirements he had given Brooks was that the mother must have survived a bout with polio while pregnant. The gestating infant would then have the antibodies to give it immunity. He had not been concerned with the details of obtaining such a child. That was up to his men. Brooks knew never to disappoint. Interestingly, the report indicated that the search for a child had reached beyond U.S. borders to countries where the incidence of the virus was more prevalent. Looking at his daughter, none would suspect she had been born anywhere but in sunny Florida.

He picked up a phone and ordered lunch for two on the terrace. He preferred his wife not join them. Their relationship had evolved over the years, and in the beginning it had been exciting. The corruption of an innocent often had its moments.

Jane had clearly been in love with him when they married. He'd had to submit to all kinds of suspicion during their courtship, but his charm, ivy-league education, and impeccable, though Muslim, family history as moderates had won her family over. And one could not negate the powerful effect of craggy good looks and irresistible dimples on the insipid American female.

Not that Jane was less insipid than others. They were all that way. He had luckily been able to put his distaste aside long enough to get Jane pregnant. Later, he determined her attachment to the baby was unseemly and unhealthy—he was concerned that she would infect the child with her western entitlement philosophy. So the baby was turned over to a nanny. He then devised a plan to get his wife addicted to heroin as a way to control her. Her incessant whining about the child distracted him.

Unfortunately, when Sarasota was hit with the polio epidemic over a decade ago, they had lost the child. By then, Jane was firmly owned by the white powder and was in no condition to handle her grief. Her mind had temporarily broken.

Had the public known what they were going through, his plans would have been ruined. No one votes for a politician with a wife in the loony bin. So he put her in the attic instead. He turned her care over to his men. They knew what had to be done. It had not been easy—they had almost lost her as she wasted away and they'd had to use the defibrillator on her, twice.

When Brooks had finally obtained a suitable baby, she had been in the attic for over a year. By then, she wasn't even sure who she was, and it had taken the slow introduction of the child to snap her out of it. But she would never again be the person she had been when he married her. She didn't even remember the wedding or her family in the Midwest for that matter.

Jane had initially been easy to handle, even taking a small interest in his political affairs. Enough so that she was more than presentable when he needed to trot out proof of his normal American family. But it was becoming more difficult to have her around. She constantly interfered in his decisions for their daughter, and she could no longer be trusted in public.

That was going to get much, much worse as his campaign heated up. He was beginning to wonder how a recently widowed senator might fair in the polls. His closest competitor was the Muslim Brotherhood candidate, and a brave widower with a young daughter was beginning to sound appealing.

He was distracted from his musings by his household staff setting up the terrace table for lunch. He changed his mind and requested that his wife join them. She knew better than to refuse. His new idea was beginning to take shape. If he wanted to go through with this new plan, he had better be seen with her as often and in as loving a light as possible, even by the household staff.

Besides, he had a special present for his daughter. Dialing his secretary, he asked her to make sure the puppy was ready. He wanted it brought to the terrace right after lunch. It would be nice if they could use this as a photo op for the campaign. He asked her to alert the press and arrange their transportation to the island. He wanted their presence to be coordinated with the conclusion of lunch, allowing refreshments to be served to them after the event. Yes, that would work out beautifully.

While the press stuffed their faces, and his wife and daughter played with the new puppy, he would excuse himself for an important conference.

The conference would necessitate him donning one of his disguises before the press left. He would mingle with the crowd as they were herded to his yacht to be taken back to the mainland, disembarking at Marina Jacks. Then he'd spin off from the crowd and walk the few blocks downtown to a waiting car driven by his mistress, who would drive them to The Oasis Club, fifteen minutes away. The exquisite home was on a private cul de sac, surrounded by palm trees and a private reserve where no one could observe their comings and goings.

Lita was a beautiful, intelligent and tempestuous Syrian woman. He had met her by chance at his mosque, had been instantly attracted to her, and was positive that she had no knowledge of his identity as a mover and shaker in U.S. politics.

Their relationship had flourished for seven years and she refused him nothing, no matter how brutal he became in his lovemaking. He had actually developed a real affection for Lita; a thoroughly genuine, likeable and very loyal young woman. He knew that positively, for he'd had his men thoroughly investigate her. He realized that by now she must know who he was, but out of respect, she had never alluded to it.

He wondered how he could continue to see her once the election was over. Perhaps, it was time for them to have a serious discussion about her future. Maybe she needed to play a more visible role in his life. Considering his plans for his wife, he thought a cushy yet prestigious job in Washington might be in her future. Giving a big smile and a thumbs up to his daughter as she checked to make sure he was still watching, he slipped down the elegant stairs to the pool to join her.

*

Omar's daughter loved her handsome daddy. She knew he was an important man, because everyone fussed over him so much. Her mother said they were going to live in the big White House in Washington D.C. She wished they didn't need to move. Her swim team needed her here. And her school friends would grow up and forget about her.

She knew that to be true because her daddy had told her she must learn to be independent and not rely on other relationships. Her mother told her that relationships were all she had to rely on. Her parents were very different. She knew she was loved by both her parents, but sometimes she felt very lonely. She wished she had a sister or brother. Everything would be so different in the big sunny house they lived in if she had a sibling to talk to instead of just her nanny or Mrs. Iskander, her father's secretary.

Her best friend, Nancy, owned a little dog named Snowball, fluffy and white. Nancy treated Snowball like her very own child. It made her long for a pet of her own. One she could sleep and cuddle with when her daddy left home or when her mother was indisposed, which was much of the time.

Her daddy waved to her from the terrace of their bay-front mansion. She loved to excel at her diving, as it pleased her daddy so. She hoped he would be able to spend some time with her once her instructor left. Glancing up, she saw her daddy coming down the staircase and walking toward the pool with a big smile on his handsome face. Oh, goody, she just knew today would be a good day.

*

Lita set her cellphone on the counter. She had just received instructions from Omar; she'd be seeing him this afternoon. She hastened to the lavender Jacuzzi tub in her extravagant cream-marble bathroom to prepare for the riotous lovemaking that was sure to soon follow her collecting him from downtown. She found the constant charade of pretending not to know who he was exceedingly tedious. It was bad enough that her life had obsessively revolved around him long before she had met him. But he would never know that.

As she disrobed, she examined her lithe tapered arms and seductive hips. Faint traces of the ugly bruises, left by Omar the last time they were together, still existed. She rested her head on an Egyptian cotton pillow as she soaked in the Jacuzzi and tried to shake off her depression as she thought about how much of her life she gave to her job. She might have Syrian heritage, but Omar knew nothing of the fact that first and foremost she was an American, _a very proud American_. So proud, she had not even batted an eye when asked to undertake this undercover assignment over seven years ago.

At first, Omar Nasir had been a small potato on their radar, just another wealthy Muslim with some hazy roots and questionable sources of income. She had been part of an investigation which had followed his movements for many years.

It wasn't until he had started his fledgling political career that her superiors had become worried; his rise in politics had been nothing short of meteoric. Her superiors had decided they needed to get closer, to ascertain how much of a threat he may be. Without hesitation they had selected Lita for the assignment. Single, beautiful, intelligent and, best of all, she could pass as Middle Eastern. Her cover was exemplary, impossible to pierce, as her last seven years attested to.

The most surprising aspect of this assignment had been the discovery of what an excellent little actress she was. Who knew? She had only improved as the years passed.

Her newfound talent certainly came in handy whenever he laid his loathsome hands on her. He made her flesh crawl. In the throes of passion, his handsome face looked dissipated and repulsive. But he had slowly started to confide in her; nothing big, just the occasional tidbit that, when linked with other information in his file, led them to conclude he hid an agenda.

They were already aware that he fed his wife heroin. Unfortunately, they could not figure out why. Perhaps she had discovered something deleterious about him. Successful politicians usually tried to avoid scandals and divorces; perhaps he had chosen to control her through an introduced addiction. Whatever he was up to must be very serious to go to that length.

They had also received an unusual tip a few years ago. Omar had attended the mosque in Sarasota for many years, but on certain occasions he would appear in disguise, as an old man. He would secrete himself behind private doors, off limits for everyone except the imams. This was the same mosque that had long been suspected of secretly supporting the Salafis. She shuddered at the thought of the Salafis getting a toehold in her country. They were an ultra-conservative group who believed life must be based on Islam's past, including the worst of Sharia Law, and dedicated to the destruction of the West.

It was perfectly clear to Lita and her superiors that letting Omar Nasir win the election to become President of the United States would court disaster.

# Chapter 19

Abby and Jose woke up refreshed and ready to tackle the new day. They both noticed how muted Scotty's behavior seemed to be, so they decided Jose would stay with him in the suite to melt down more gold while Abby unloaded what they currently had ready.

They hoped their budding relationship didn't make Scotty feel excluded; they needed to keep their unit tight. Who else did they have to rely on but each other? The fact that Scotty was still a teenager made it more difficult for him. Abby and Jose were each very aware of how difficult their teenage years had been, especially for Abby. And they had both enjoyed the support of other family members at the time. Scotty only had them. And Echo, of course, and Barney.

Scotty, Echo and Barney turned to watch them enter the kitchen, anxious to plan the day. They decided they would set up their equipment on the balcony, nicely secluded and private. It also gave Echo the exposure she needed for the sun. Abby would leave after lunch, when a cab would pick her up and take her where she needed to go. It was impractical to use the limo, and the less their driver knew of their affairs, the better.

The afternoon passed pleasantly. Barney and Echo sat quietly in one corner while Jose and Scotty did their work with the gold. Scotty seemed to warm up as they made progress, and soon the camaraderie they shared seemed as good as always.

"Did you know that the driving age in Florida is sixteen? You can get your permit," Jose informed Scotty.

"Sixteen? You mean I can get a car?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not. I'm sure Abby wouldn't have a problem with it, as long as you're careful." Jose smiled up at Scotty who looked simply amazed. _Problem solved_ , Jose thought to himself. _Never underestimate the power of a set of wheels on a teenage boy_. Glancing at his watch, he wondered where Abby was; she should have been back by now. As soon as the thought passed through his mind, he heard the door to the suite open. Turning off their equipment and leaving the melted gold to cool on the balcony, they met Abby in the living room. She carried a recently purchased briefcase and, opening it up, she dumped out the cash.

"Time to get this to a bank. Shall we go and open an account here? A big branch of The Doyle Farmer's Trust is across the street. We can go over before it closes. There were only two gold dealers in Norristown, so if we make this deposit we can leave in the morning. We'll be way ahead of schedule and Peter's calling tonight." They had all decided that Peter should leave for Florida immediately to start house hunting whilst they made arrangements to leave Sussex County.

"Yes, he'll have an update for us. Let's get to the bank." Jose leaned down, tying his sneakers' laces.

"I'll stay here. I think I'll go online. I just want to check out what's new on the auto horizon," Scotty announced eagerly. "And these two need a babysitter, don't they?"

"Auto horizon?" Abby asked.

"I'll fill you in later." Grabbing the briefcase, Jose took Abby's arm, waved to Scotty and Echo and out they went.

Crossing the street, they entered the imposing lobby of The Doyle Farmer's Trust. Along one wall of the lobby was the history of the bank.

Strolling over to the wall they noticed a well-guarded display of old gold coins. Reading the captions, they discovered the coins had been donated to the bank by the founder, Mr. Robert Doyle himself. They were part of an important collection that had belonged to his family for decades. It went on to say that one coin had been stolen and never recovered. Alongside the collection was a photo labeled 'Mr. Robert Doyle and his first wife, Netty'. Abby studied the photo, a formal sepia-tone portrait of the husband and wife taken on their wedding day. He looked stern; she looked luminescent. For some reason, she found the face of Netty Doyle arresting. _Why would that be?_ Perhaps she resembled someone Abby knew. Looking back at the coins, she did a double take. They looked just like the coin Scotty had found in the woods so long ago. _Could it be that Scotty had found the stolen coin? It's a good thing he never tried to sell it. Mr. Doyle's estate could probably make a claim on the coin._

She would have to break the news to Scotty. It would be up to him to decide what to do with it. Turning it over to the estate would not be a good idea, as they could not afford the attention or the publicity it might bring. The loss of the potential money from the sale of the coin no longer mattered to them, thank heavens.

Dismissing the display, they continued into the bank to make their deposit. They fully expected to raise a few eyebrows with a cash deposit of the magnitude they were making, but Peter told them not to worry as they were committing no crime. The IRS would inquire about the deposit anyway, and Peter was fully prepared to handle any queries it generated. They asked the bank to forward all paperwork and their checks to Peter's office, in his care. Due to the size of the deposit, the bank bent over backwards to accommodate them.

Returning to the hotel, Abby and Jose felt an uncontainable sense of exhilaration. Maybe it had something to do with freedom. They now possessed most of the funds they needed to give them a secure base for a long time. And tomorrow, when they left Norristown, their new lives would begin, overlaid with the complexity of Echo and the changes of their bodies. They felt pretty darn confident they would learn to adjust.

Entering the suite, they found Scotty still auto shopping, and Echo and Barney curled up on the antique sofa with Barney's head resting in Echo's tiny lap, her legs curled to the side like a lady in love stroking her betrothed's brow. They filled Scotty in about his coin, agreeing they were lucky he no longer needed the money.

"I guess that means I won't have to go back to school?" Scotty looked hopeful.

"Oh no you don't. You are not going to grow up a dummy, just because we're rich. Seriously, I've wondered what we would do about Scotty's schooling. I think we run a risk, registering him in a local school. They'd need his transcripts from back home. That means we'd have to disclose where we're located. I don't think we want to do that. Do we?" Abby asked.

"No . . . absolutely not." Jose frowned. "I agree he needs to finish his education, but I think we'll have to look into having him homeschooled. We can look for tutors. If our changes become more of a problem, maybe we can do it ourselves. It's better than no education at all. It would only last a couple of years anyway. Scotty? What do you think?"

"Well, I don't think going to school will be an option. I was going to get around to telling you, but we've been so busy and things were turned so upside down."

"Tell us what, exactly?" Abby interrupted. Scotty stood up and removed his shirt. Where his shoulder blades came together he had developed two ugly swollen raised masses. When Abby carefully pressed down, she felt solid mass; nothing soft, no yielding.

"Does that hurt, Scotty?" Jose stood to look.

"Not much, more like an annoyance. It was worse in the beginning. I wonder what it means." Auras crossed into their minds.

"You will be Elders, my Brothers, and my Sister too. The change takes many years. I am surprised this change has come so soon. The Womb has plans for us. The honor is ours."

"Echo, what the heck are you talking about? What plans? What changes?" Jose demanded, stomping uselessly around the tasteful room like a lady of the evening trying to convince her john she was a virgin. No matter what he said, Echo, in what was becoming her typical fashion, would say no more.

Giving up, Abby decided it was time to place a call to Peter to check on the house hunting. Abby found the conversation productive, Peter not being one to spend much time on social chitchat.

He had previewed many houses, mostly waterfront. The homes were all exquisite yet lacked the acreage they thought they would need. That gave Jose an idea. Sticking to the waterfront would give them an additional escape route in the event it was ever needed, God forbid. It also precluded the problem of another house located behind them. They must reduce the possibility of neighborhood eyes accidentally seeing something that would cause alarm. Like funny little golden creatures which hung out with a big fat slobbering dog. Or furry golden tails seemingly attached to the new neighbors.

So they would buy the neighbors' homes too. After asking Peter to look on one of the keys off the mainland, he responded that he'd found a good possibility on Bird Key, a small island in the shadow of the Ringling Bridge which spanned the bay. The homes were exclusive and their numbers low. Docking access was also provided with the house, a rarity on Bird Key. They could look into the purchase of a yacht, if needed. Abby nodded her head, her eyes lighting up. The additional homes would provide the quarters Peter would require as well as plenty of room for other hired help.

Since everyone agreed, Peter suggested Abby catch a plane from Newark and meet him in Sarasota to approve the purchase. Abby glanced quickly at Jose, not wanting to go alone.

"We'll get her on a plane tomorrow, Peter. We'll call you back as soon as we have the flight details. Thanks, buddy." Jose ignored her protesting frown and hung up.

"Jose," she said tentatively, "I've never been on a plane before. I won't know what to do."

"I'll go," Scotty piped up, sounding pumped about the prospect.

"We can't send you. You aren't old enough to sign a contract. It must be either me or Abby. And since she's the oldest and a woman, her input on a house would be much more relevant." Abby's shoulders sagged. Breathing slowly and deeply she tried to calm her jitters. She was stuck. It was going to have to be her.

*

They went to bed after firming up the flight arrangements and arranging a hotel for Abby to stay in while she waited for Jose and Scotty to arrive. They thought it prudent to avoid putting Abby in the same hotel as Peter, just as a precaution. Jose was not the jealous type, he just wanted to limit Abby's exposure until he arrived to protect her.

They gathered their things the next morning, repacked their equipment, then called for their limo driver. Unable to avoid it, Jose went to the busy ceremonious lobby to pay the bill. Most people paid by credit card and found it unnecessary to pay in the lobby, but Jose could only pay in cash.

Abby and Scotty rode the elegant elevator to the quiet parking garage and deposited Barney and Echo—in her doggie carrier—in the limo. There they waited for Jose to join them. Saying a relieved goodbye to Norristown, they started for the airport.

# Chapter 20

Leaving Abby at the airport made Jose heartsick. She wasn't confident about the flight, yet Jose felt powerless to make the situation better for her.

His apprehension diminished as he watched her be searched by the soldiers at the parking lot security point. The soldiers knew what they needed to do. They could spot a terrorist or nut job a mile away. Since they had taken over airport security, the hijackings and terror of a decade ago had stopped. Air travel was truly a commitment of time, as it took two hours alone to get through the off-site parking checkpoint.

No longer could you drive up to the curb to drop off passengers. It had only taken a bomb-laden SUV at a United Airlines curbside check-in at noon of Christmas Eve 2027 to kill the nine hundred and seventy five people that had been checking in for three flights and lining up for their security check to get to the gates. And that was only at Newark's Liberty International Airport. Six other airports had been hit that day, all with similar losses. There had been no loss of life or property since, which was what gave the public the confidence and nerve to get on the planes. Jose thought it was a miracle any airline had survived the chaos back then. So many lives had been lost, so many lawsuits filed.

Jose stood at the curb, waiting for the airport bus, killing time while he said goodbye to Abby. He wasn't comfortable leaving Scotty and Echo alone with the limo driver. Not that the driver was untrustworthy, just that anything could happen in a motor vehicle and he would not be there to handle the situation. He breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted the airport bus coming to pick up the next load of passengers.

He kissed Abby goodbye and slid into the back seat of the limo, giving Scotty a thumbs up, Barney a pat on the head and scooping Echo off the seat to sit on his lap.

As the limo made its way to the turnpike, he confronted the mysterious Echo.

"Come on, you rascal, we need to talk."

The golden aura fluttered in his mind. "I am happy when you talk to me, Brother. Have you an inquiry?"

"Yes. I would like you to explain to me exactly what your mission is." Jose tried to be careful with his questioning. Sometimes Echo shut down or spoke so literally that she was impossible to understand.

"The mission is not mine, Brother."

"Echo, you told me before that you had a mission to fulfill."

"Yes, Brother, but the mission was not mine, it belonged to my species Brother."

"You have another Brother here? Can we see him? Is he from your planet? And what was his mission?" Jose stopped his rapid-fire questions. No point in overwhelming Echo. He was quite surprised to learn that there was another of Echo's kind. Why had he not thought to ask Echo if she was alone? Maybe there were more of them back at the cavern.

"Echo, how big is the cavern where we met?"

"Brother, the cavern is as big as the Womb thinks it needs it to be. The Womb knows your question. I also questioned, for over a century, until you came into the woods and brought me My Barney. I have a great affection for my human Brothers and Sisters, for the few good ones. You deserve the privilege of helping me create the future. The Womb also agrees. I feel the Womb soften.

"My Brother, sadly, does not walk on this world. He was killed by violent evil humans. His death necessitated the Womb to take more time to assess human viability. We have waited a long, long time. Many chances have been given, always a disappointment.

"Humans, as a species, are detrimental to all life on this planet. This is not the first time the Womb made a mistake with a species. This has happened before. It began to disturb the Womb after humans achieved the ability to greatly change their environment. The Womb is proud and protective of all life on this planet. I am the offspring of my Brother, so the duty falls to me. If I fail, another minion will be sent to take my place. But I will not fail. The Womb will see to it. As much as the Womb softens with direct observation, it affirmed the mission after Brother's vicious death. Your future is assured. You will be Elders. For a human, there is no greater honor."

"I'm confused, Echo, some men killed your brother? When did this happen? Who exactly is the Womb? Do you answer to him, I mean to the Womb?"

Jose was deeply disturbed by Echo's words, they only invited more questions. _Assess_ _human viability?_ He needed to talk to Abby. This sounded serious.

He knew that if he probed further, Echo would only shut down. Looking over at Scotty, he could tell from his fearful look that he had also received the golden aura in his mind. With a nod to Scotty, he signaled silence.

"Echo, I hope you realize how much we love you and would protect you at all cost."

"Of course, my Brother, and I you. We are family. I am happier than I have ever been." Hopping off Jose's lap, Echo climbed up next to Barney to bury her head in his fur. Clearly the interview was over.

Jose thought about Echo's revelations. _What the heck is she talking about? Echo hails from another world, but she and the Womb—even saying the Womb sounds like a joke—seem to think they are in charge here. Why?_

Looking at the funny-looking little creature made him laugh at the thought. He wondered how to explain the changes they were all going through: his tail, and the fact that Scotty had healed Abby. _Wait a minute_. _How do they know that Abby was healed? Sure she felt great and had missed several treatments without any negative effect, but . . ._ Jose made a note to suggest to Abby that she see a doctor. Maybe there would be a way they could do it without her doctors in New Jersey discovering her location. They didn't want to make any slips with anyone, not even her doctors. That connection could be easily traced.

Jose studied Echo. Why the obsession over a dog? Echo was obviously a highly evolved—appearances aside—creature. Yet there was much in Echo's manner that suggested she was childlike and naive. He supposed that being a different species would present some interpretive communication problem. Perhaps he simply misconstrued some of what she said. _But what about the gold and diamonds?_ The acquisition of those raw materials seemed to have been done innocently, although mysteriously. Echo clearly attached no significance to the commercial value of the gold and diamonds. Discovering that they were overjoyed to be rich didn't seem to effect Echo that much either. If they were happy, then Echo was happy. He had to admit that it was all a bit overwhelming.

And then there was his tail. He had spent the last few years wondering what effect it would have on his life. His periodic visits to the woods to see Echo had never elicited any pertinent information from her. His inability to curb his awestruck feelings had forced him to spend most of the time answering Echo's questions. So he'd reluctantly managed the problem on his own. Just like always.

He had matured quickly as a boy, intimate with adversity. Emotional trauma had introduced itself to him when just a defenseless child. How did a child fill the void left by a beloved family, savaged by mysterious brutal strangers? He didn't. He was forever damaged. He was forever different.

His changes just made him even more different; nothing new to him. But his tail, not even on his radar now, a part of him just like his arm or his leg, no longer needed to be hidden from his loved ones; a huge improvement to his mental health.

Or maybe Abby had brought the improvement on. He no longer felt depressed. The hole in his psyche still left him damaged, but now he felt joy and hopefulness. He recognized that he might be part of something that portended to be an adventure of a lifetime. Slicking back an unruly shock of his curly hair, his strong capable hand slid down to absentmindedly scratch his three-day-old stubble. Sliding down in the comfortable leather seat, he shut his eyes. Tiring of the puzzle that was Echo, he cleared his mind for some snoozing. Unbidden, Abby's face appeared in his mind. As the limo sped quickly down the busy highway, taking its strange occupants to their new life, a very special young man inside simply dreamed of his sweetheart.

# Chapter 21

He sure was having a hard time unloading the hunk of gold he'd caged from the fucker's garage. Christ, he got a spot of good luck and someone still wanted to make it tough for him. The sign said, _Gold for Cash_ , for Christ's sake. He should come back at night and burn the fucking place down. That would show them who they were fucking with.

Shaking his head in anger, he realized he might have to drive to the city and find a dealer capable of handling his golden goodie. He should have known these country hicks wouldn't help him; probably just jealous of his good fortune. _Yeah, that was it_. He shook his head knowingly. He should have realized that from the royal eyeball they gave him.

Flicking his cigarette butt out the window, he wiped his nose on his ragged sleeve. He hoped he would get his hands on the cash today and score some fine blow. It had been a mighty long time since he'd been able to afford goodies like that.

Thinking of burning down the gold shop reminded him of his plans. He was on his way home to pack now. First thing tomorrow morning he was going to pay a little visit to the fag lawyer in Newtown.

He spent some time watching the deserted office this morning. They sure weren't doing any business; he must be a lousy lawyer. The only person he saw was the stuck-up bitch, his secretary, what was her name? _Oh, yeah, Tiffany. Baby Tiff_. Well, if he couldn't get his hands on the fag lawyer, then Baby Tiff would do just fine. His face took on a greasy sheen as he thought about the time he might allow for a little fun before he got down to his real business. Unzipping his filthy pants, he drove down the street grinning and giving himself a happy ending as he imagined the look on Ms. Baby Tiff's face when she got a gander at this.

Pulling up to his house, he ran inside to collect some of the necessary tools for his fun time tomorrow. He let himself into Kelly's bedroom to pick through her knife collection. He nostalgically ran his hand over her babies. Selecting one that looked like it would do the job, he thought about Kelly. He had yet to deal with the effect her fucked-up death was bound to have on him. She had been his sister and his best friend. The only one who knew of the pain and torment that had been their companion as far back as he could remember.

Their mother had run off when Kelly was born, never looking back, never heard from again. Kelly had been a toddler when their father, Abe, started locking them together in a wooden box he kept in the cellar. The box, so small they could only lay at the bottom, consisted of rough planed wood that stabbed splinters into their tender skin. They would lie holding each other in the dark until Abe had finished with the latest bar whore or neighborhood housewife on the prowl. He used to call them his juicy little piggies. _Didn't want the piggies seeing his inconvenient brats._

All they knew was their father and the wooden box. When Armoni turned eight, Abe occasionally sat him in the corner of the room while he and his drunken conquest did their business, amid much slobbering and animal sounds. Sometimes, Abe knocked them around a bit before they got the message. Armoni knew well his father's philosophy about forking out good money to pay a piggy's booze tab without a payback. Didn't matter if they agreed or not. They eventually came round. Armoni thought that the little piggies were the most fun to watch. Just a simple, unknowingly frightening observance from the funny-looking, unnoticed little boy in the corner, huddled and wild eyed, missing nothing. He felt a tug of sympathy for the young boy he had been, remembering being overwhelmed by the spiral of emotions confronting him as a boy and then later, as a teenager.

As Kelly grew older, Abe started to notice her. Armoni also noticed. When she turned thirteen, she displayed a shadow of the attractive young woman she would grow into. Armoni was seventeen. And stone-cold ugly. As of late, when they were locked up, things had changed in the wooden box. Armoni had started to look forward to it. He loved the way Kelly clung to him, softly weeping. He would stroke her budding breasts until she calmed down, kissing her hair, humming to her. His hands loved to explore, Kelly not understanding even when it was too late. She became his obsession. Until finally, he found himself sneaking into her bed at night to fondle her until she woke, then together they would finish the night with physical comfort of the most primal kind.

Until the fateful night Abe came home without a juicy piggy. Armoni and Kelly had not heard him enter. They were fully engrossed, giggles masking Abe's footsteps. The bare bulb hanging over Kelly's bed snapped on. Armoni felt strong fingers digging at his throat, swinging him back over the mussed bed to crash him, naked, against the bedroom wall, leaving a hollow bulge where his shoulders cratered the cheap sheetrock. He lay panting on the floor as his father looked down on Kelly, slowly unbuckling his pants.

"Don't remember giving you permission ta touch something that belongs ta me, boy. Can't say I blame you, though. With your looks, you ain't ever gonna get yourself your own woman." Disdain and contempt distorted Abe's face as he taunted Armoni.

Kelly tried to slip off the bed, her nakedness inflaming Abe. Grabbing her by the hair, he dragged her back to the bed, pinned her down with his weight and slapped her across the face.

"You whore—lying with your own brother. Can't help yourself, can you? Time for this juicy piggy to give her daddy a little payback." He had fumbled with his navy workpants, sliding them to his ankles. Kicking them to the side, he had stood with his erection engorged and craving satisfaction, his dissipated face a tribute to greed and mad fervor. Plunging into his daughter, he had slapped her face again.

"Let's see a little enthusiasm, piggy."

Kelly had lain still, clearly in shock while her father raped her until he was satisfied. Suddenly, Armoni had plowed into him, knocking him off balance and allowing Kelly to twist out from under him and escape the room.

"You mongrel, after all I did for you." Rubbing his arm and rising, he had shot Armoni a vicious look. "Time to teach the pups some lessons." Raising his fist he had struck down violently, landing on Armoni's nose, busting it, blood splattering them both.

Armoni had staggered back, his father pressing forward aggressively, then suddenly freezing. His eyes had flared briefly, valuable air with a spot of blood retching from his lungs over his curled lips as he turned in time to see Kelly, having yanked out the kitchen butcher knife she had gleefully stabbed him in the back with, plunge it into his heart. He had gone down hard.

The cover up had proved easy. Armoni had taken the blame. They had wiped the knife handle clean, replacing it with Armoni's prints. Their father's semen, extracted after Kelly's exam at the hospital, along with signs of sexual activity at a very young age, had helped bolster their claims of incest and rape. Armoni's broken nose and his blood on his father's fist had made the story believable. They had never told the authorities about the wooden box in the basement. The whole town had already known what a lousy father Abe was anyway. The brief investigation had exonerated both of them of all responsibility.

Kelly might have become slice and dice happy as she matured, but it had never caused them any trouble as they strove to duplicate the high they had experienced together the night they had killed their father. He truly enjoyed watching a babe who enjoyed her job. Yeah, he sure missed his sister; no one to share his conquests with now. She was one of a kind. Doubtful he'd ever run across a bitch as good as her again, a tear fell from his eye, landing on Kelly's favorite knife. _Hmm, good omen,_ he thought, selecting that same knife as his weapon for tomorrow.

Opening a can of pea soup from the plywood shelves in the pantry, he grabbed a spoon, not bothering to heat it up. He needed thinking time. He suspected he wouldn't be returning to the house after his satisfying moment– _and I do mean satisfying, get it?_ —with Baby Tiff. He chuckled to himself over his unique cleverness.

He was reluctant to leave the house with the ripe DNA in the basement. He thought about torching the place along with the gold joint. Considering other methods of covering his tracks, he decided fire covered the best. He couldn't care less if they discovered it was arson. They couldn't prove enough to pin it on him. He would be long gone anyway.

Once he caught up with those motherfuckers that had killed his two best friends, he would have all the gold he needed to go anywhere in the world. After he had his fun with that stuck-up bitch and her weird fucking pet, that is. _Yeah_ , he thought _, he would torch that bugger too_. Or stomp him, just like he'd done with the slobbering mutt.

He sucked the last of his pea soup off his finger, enjoying the sensation and letting the can drop to the filthy floor. Kicking it to the other side of the room, he paused. Hadn't he heard the chicks in France were a bunch of whores? Yeah, he would put France on the top of his list. Reaching down to his crotch, he felt for his penis. Stroking it lovingly, he shouted out loud, "Yeah, wait'll they get a load a this!"

*

The next day dawned early, swirling mists awaiting banishment by a stalwart winter sun. After filling his car with the items he felt worth taking with him, he went through the house, trailing a full container of kerosene, purely to make his job easier when he doubled back to light it up. He planned to be in a big hurry.

Getting behind the wheel, he fought rush hour traffic to find a strategic spot to park his car. Observing Tiffany unlock the office, he decided to wait awhile to ascertain if her boss would show up this morning. Once convinced she alone staffed the office, he crept to the unlocked front door, silently slithering in.

Looking around the empty reception room, he observed cardboard boxes and packing materials piled with files and knickknacks. From the front door he could hear the shuffling of boxes from another room. Unsheathing Kelly's gleaming prize baby, he extracted a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, then locked the front door. The aroma of his staleness and sweat announced him as he opened another door to see Tiffany bending over a box unaware, her back to him, with her miniskirt hiked so far up her panties were winking at him. Licking his slobbering lips, he said, "Hello there, Tiff, my name's Lover."

*

Two hours later, he had what he needed. Before he left, he dumped out the contents of the boxes, hoping to pass off Tiffany's body as a victim of a robbery gone wrong; or gone right. _Depends on how ya look at things_ , he smirked to himself.

Tiff sure was a fun gal, all that squirming while he was on top of her. He only stuck her once or twice with Kelly's baby before she got the message. Just the sight of her arms cuffed above her head as he ran his tongue down to her goody spot made him hard again. Who knew she would like it so much? He could tell by the way she said his name on his command. Slicing into her right titty convinced him of her excitement.

After that, he got all the info he needed, including a mighty fine blow job, although the leaking blood disgusted him. Tiffany finally choked, heaving all over him. Punching her out kinda put a damper on their fun. She had needed to be taught some manners. He thought a fine educated bitch like her would know better than to barf all over him. _Ah, they're all the same_ , he thought, shaking his big head in disappointment. _Just cunts and stuck-up bitches_.

Arriving back at his house, he just needed to flip a match where he'd dumped the kerosene and get out fast. Quickly pulling away, he drove to Route 80, knowing he'd be in New York City in less than two hours. Thinking back to the information Baby Tiff had so easily blabbed to him, he wondered what was so special about Sarasota. He certainly didn't relish a long lonely drive to Florida. He wondered how long he could stay on the road without falling asleep. He had to admit, making the long haul in the rickety old Volkswagen was not going to be pleasant. He wondered if he should buy something more befitting a man of his impending stature. He cackled, smacking his hand down on his knee. After he sold the gold in New York City, he should certainly be able to afford any set of wheels he wanted.

He wondered how long it would take. _Probably a few days_. He questioned if a little stopover in the city would put a dent in his plans by slowing him down.

He had never heard of Sarasota before. _Must be another hick town like theirs in Sussex County. Shouldn't be too hard to spot that motley crew of fuckers in a small hick town. It's not like they were going to blend in with that freaky murderous pet of theirs._

Feeling like a king, Armoni pulled up to the first hotel he found after passing through the Lincoln Tunnel. He decided to make for 42nd Street since it was the only one he'd ever heard of.

Pulling his car under the flashy mezzanine of the Sheraton Hotel, an attendant shouted at him, telling him to move on, he couldn't park there. _What the fuck is he_ _talking about?_ Glaring at him, Armoni motioned to the _For_ _Guests Only_ sign and walked past him into the lobby of the hotel. Barging up to the reservation desk, he slapped down a wad of money which represented all his net worth and demanded a room.

"May I have a credit card, please?" He didn't like how the pretty front desk clerk with the fussy professional demeanor gave him the ole eyeball.

"What, my cash ain't good enough?" Armoni asked in surprise. Behaving like she smelled something rotten, she explained how he would have to leave payment in advance, in addition to a deposit for incidental room expenditures. Peeling off some large bills, he counted out the amount she requested. It would cover him for a week. Counting what was left, he was surprised to see the dent he had just made in his stash. Oh well, he would be back in the chips soon enough.

Noticing the way the desk clerk stared at him, he kept his mouth shut and wondered if he should do some shopping for new duds while he stayed there. Dropping his car keys on the desk, he ordered her to have his car looked after. Didn't want it stolen his first night in New York City.

Taking the room key the desk clerk had given him, he strolled over to the elevators, gawking at the well-dressed and attractive crowd who all appeared to have very important destinations. _Was he intimidated_? he asked himself. _Nah, just a bunch of_ _stuck-up pussy and sons a bitches_. Fingering Kelly's baby tucked away in his pants, he knew he was the intimidating one.

Arriving at his room, he struggled with the room key until he figured out how it worked. Letting himself in, he heaved his bag with the gold onto the huge bed, looking around the well-appointed room, impressed.

Spotting an advertising directory, he curled up on the bed. Wrenching his boots off, the room filled with a foul foot stench, Armoni completely impervious. Marking the ads for gold dealers, he finally turned to the auto dealers like a house cat that had just taken down a wildebeest. He feasted. Eventually, he found his eyes drooping. Climbing under the covers fully clothed, he drifted off to fuzzy dreams of Kelly and him, speeding down a country road of gold in a cherry-red convertible, laughing their heads off, Tomas in the back seat. Lost in his dreams, he farted and slept the night away.

# Chapter 22

Disembarking from her plane, Abby felt disoriented. She followed the stream of fellow passengers as they made their way to the baggage claim, trying to spot Peter. Touching her sunglasses for reassurance, she felt relieved to note she wasn't alone. Everyone wore sunglasses. As she made her way to meet Peter, she tried to quell her nervousness. She almost didn't believe she had arrived safely in Sarasota; her ease with travel almost nonexistent, never before having traveled out of New Jersey. Hardly out of Sussex County or Short Hills either, for that matter. Her eyes roved everywhere as she took in her surroundings.

The airport sparkled, bright and clean. She got goosebumps from the air conditioning, yet everyone dressed casually, in brightly-colored shorts and sandals. They appeared fit, happy and attractive. No signs of poverty here. No downtrodden welfare faces dressed in hand-me-down thrift store clothing. Self-consciously, she smoothed her worn sweater, wishing she could be with Jose and Scotty. She felt undeniably out of her element.

Spotting Peter, she felt a measure of relief. He gave her a quick hug before taking her small bag from her hands.

"I've arranged some time with a personal shopper for you this evening. I hope that was okay?" Peter's timid smile belied his efficiency. Abby saw past his blank owlish face into the intelligence of his unblinking eyes. She felt herself in good hands. Peter's quick competence had enabled Abby and Jose to start knitting a psychological safety net, woven entirely with his help.

"Do we have money in an account here? I only brought enough to pay my hotel bill until the boys get here. I didn't want to carry a lot on the plane."

"My dear, you can spend as much as you please. I have already transferred funds from the two major gold sales to a local bank. The transaction took one day—the money made it to Florida before I did." Handing Abby three plastic cards, he explained how they worked.

"We can activate them with your thumb print before you go shopping. Don't worry about losing them. All vendors provide readers for your print before a sale is wrung up. No one but you can access your card." Changing the subject, he declared, "I'm embarrassed to admit I enjoyed a delightful day yesterday with our realtor. This town is impossible to be depressed in."

"I'm glad you're enjoying the process, I was worried you'd find it tedious. You're so important to us, Peter. We're all so pleased this is working out. Have you completely closed your office in Sussex?" Peter bowed his head, trying to hide his flush of pleasure from her words.

"Yes, the office is closed. Tiffany is shipping my files to my hotel here. I'll store them until we settle on the new move. I turned anything active over to other attorneys in the area. I wonder, what do you think of hiring Tiffany and moving her down here? I think we may need an assistant to do personal errands, shopping etc.?"

"That would be fine. She seems very sweet. Can she leave her family? This is a big move."

"Who would say no to trading Sussex County for Sarasota?" Laughing together, Abby and Peter stepped out into the sunlight.

Peter had a Savanna Rover waiting at the busy curb. As he hustled her out of the terminal, he gave her the low down on their itinerary. First stop, Bird Key and their realtor. Pulling out into the traffic, he dumped sheets of information on her lap, told her to buckle up, and off they went.

*

Sylvia Wadsworth's enjoyment of her seventy-third birthday had just increased with the execution of the last contract of her long career. It had been two very long days. She fingered the heavy faux pearls draped around the layers of crepe at her throat while her other manicured hand fluffed her perfect blond highlights.

Chuckling to herself, she couldn't wait to enjoy the expression on her third husband's face when he saw this contract and the commission she stood to receive from the sale. What a way to start her long-deserved retirement.

She would have suspected a hoax after meeting the purchaser, had not her stoic attorney accompanied her; a shy respectful young man for sure. Ms. Preston appeared to behave like a lovely young lady, but clearly not from a family of substance. She idly wondered if Ms. Preston might share the name of her stylist, her golden streaks were absolute perfection.

Sylvia did not possess the nerve to inquire as to where the funds for such a purchase had come from. The attorney supplied the proof of funds letter, so she kept her mouth shut. Between the three mansions on pricey Bird Key, the sixty-four-foot Bertram motor yacht, included by one of the sellers, and her fee for coordinating the furnishing of the homes with one of the top designers from Kane's of Sarasota, her purchase would come to $63 million dollars, to close in thirty days. _Nice._

But what did an unsophisticated single young woman need with these properties? It sure appeared suspicious to her. During her previous appointments with the attorney, he had failed to reveal who he represented. Now, after spending two days together, she knew. But the purchaser revealed very little. _And what's with the constant sunglasses? The girl never takes them off. Like never._ Maybe she should keep an eye on Miss Abby. Wouldn't want any harm to come to her elite community, now would she? Sylvia sniffed, thinking Miss Abby better watch her step if she thought she could break into Sarasota society just because of her flashy new money.

_The size of the purchase would certainly be commented on in the real estate section of_ Sarasota Today _. Everyone in town would be dying of curiosity._

Preening, Sylvia realized she would receive reflected glory in being the realtor of record. She could sure use a status bump at the country club. Maybe she should be a tad more generous toward the poor girl.

Picking up her cell, she dialed her husband. She felt like celebrating tonight. Asking him to call _Michaels on First_ for reservations, she looked forward to an icy cold martini at her favorite restaurant.

*

Returning to their hotels, Peter dropped Abby off first. His hotel sat just a half mile away, closer to the marina. Working feverishly on his new client's affairs, he hadn't spent much time thinking about the ramifications of this momentous move or his own future. He loved seeing the world outside the small confines of Sussex County. He knew Tiffany would love it, along with the new clients. His fondness for Abby and Jose continued to grow. It was clear in the way that Abby referred to Jose that they were in love. He wished them well, but it made him feel lonely. Perhaps when they had settled into their new homes, he might try to date.

He started to wilt in the late afternoon sun, his shirt sticking to his back and decided to try to adopt a more informal dress. Although he wore them as armor, business suits apparently weren't necessary in the warm climate. Rolling up the sleeves of his no longer crisp white shirt, he entered his hotel. He passed the glamorous pricey shops, available to only the wealthy; the acquisition of their wares now within his means. Who was he kidding? He wore thrift on his soul like a clown wore makeup on his face. Remove the makeup, is the clown really there? Remove the dressing from his profile, is Peter really there?

He sighed over the burden of his personal insecurities. He would just have to find a more inexpensive place to shop.

Entering his room, he turned on the shower in his sumptuous bathroom, the marble unlike anything he had ever seen until Sylvia Wadsworth had introduced him to the finest side of Sarasota real estate.

Tomorrow would prove the wisdom of his advice to move. Jose and Scotty would arrive late this evening. They planned to meet first thing in the morning to go and look at Abby's choice of homes. By the end of the day, he hoped he could maneuver them to a quiet location for a talk.

He planned to ask some pressing questions that nagged anxiously at him. His job description prevented him from questioning the motives or private business of his clients, yet he couldn't dismiss the troublesome premonition that something mystical permeated his clients. He was concerned that he had allowed this phenomenal opportunity to overwhelm his life.

Because of this momentous change, he felt he had a right to ask some questions. He longed to avoid confrontation, yet the clearly unexpected and curious wealth of his clients begged questions. He hoped his interest would not cast him in a venal light. He wanted their relationships to flourish on a more fiduciary, affectionate level. He enjoyed their confidence, but clearly felt an invisible wall of some sort.

_And what's behind the infernal sunglasses?_ Running his chubby fingers through his thinning sandy hair, he realized he didn't believe the congenital eye infection story. It was very disconcerting to talk to someone and never see their eyes. Except the one time that Abby had slipped them off for him. Reflecting on the sudden surprise of their slightly unusual golden quality, he made the astonishing connection that had been eluding him. They all wore a golden aura about them. Their golden-streaked hair, the skin of both Scotty and Jose, all suggested a subtle goldenness. _That's odd_.

Tomorrow would be the first time he'd lay eyes on all three at the same time. _Oh yes, and their two dogs, Barney_ _and Echo. They shouldn't be a problem, Sarasota seemed to be an inordinately tolerant community of dog lovers_. Not intending to offend, he hoped Abby and Jose could take his questions in stride.

Passing the hotel landline sitting on the Chippendale-style desk, he saw a red message light blinking. _Did I miss a call from Abby?_

Dialing into the message center, he found himself ordered to contact the Newtown Police Department at his earliest convenience.

Frowning, he wondered how they knew how to find him as only Tiffany knew his itinerary. Something must have happened to his elderly parents. His father was eighty years old, after all. They knew of his change in fortune, but not the name of his hotel. An only child, his parents relied on him.

Conception had come late for his mother after doctors convinced his parents she could never conceive. The fact that his mother's pregnancy came as she turned forty eight and his father fifty firmly relegated them to the role of shocked and reticent parents, stumbling along, trying their best. It probably contributed to his lack of confidence and reliance on his professional demeanor to formulate his personality. Shrugging off his introspection, he remembered how he loved his parents and quickly dialed their number in Sussex County.

# Chapter 23

Armoni hurried back to his hotel, ready to explode with giddiness. The three days it had taken to accomplish the task had felt endless, but the sale had concluded successfully. The gold dealers behaved much more professionally in New York City. They failed to bat an eye when he pulled his lump of gold out of his paper bag. The cash resided safe and sound—except for the wad in his pocket—in the bank.

They tried to talk him into one of those newfangled plastic cards with his fingerprints. Oh no, he weren't no fool. Not gunna let some stupid clerk trick him into giving his fingerprints. He preferred hard cash in his pocket, anyway. Cash always speaks loudest in a crowded room.

Pulling up to the hotel parking attendant, he flipped him the keys to his brand new, two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-smackeroo Lamborghini SUV, cherry red with a gold-trimmed black lightning bolt down the side panels. Yeah, the snotty, board-up-his-ass dealer sure wasn't pleased about his insistence on the lightning bolt. Slapping his documents from the bank on the dealer's desk sure had changed his tune.

He reached into the back of his new wheels to grab the shopping bags he had accumulated from his riotous shopping spree for the new duds he needed and were befitting for a man of his obvious new stature.

He loved making snot-nosed gay blades dance to the tunes he called as he forced them to run ragged trying to please him. He wouldn't have even bothered with them, but everyone knew they were the best source of what they called _fashion_. Anxious to get himself some _fashion_ , he had privately thought his taste as good as the stuck-up blades. Most of the duds he left the store with looked like the same things he had picked out in the first place.

Once the blades realized what he liked, they had bent over backwards to kiss his ass. He had a few numbers that he couldn't wait to try on. Like the red and yellow Anaconda skin shitkickers. He whistled, recalling how they had politely suggested that the 'gentleman's boots might be a tad inappropriate'. Just to show them who was in charge, he bought an additional pair in turquoise and white. _Sure turned_ _their faces green—with envy, of course._

He couldn't wait to change. _Oh yeah, maybe it would be a good idea to shower up first._ He hoped he might be able to find a willing babe to help him celebrate. He imagined he could have any girl he wanted, now that he was so obviously a man of substance. Cupping his crotch in his meaty hands, he laughed as he entered the sumptuous lobby spotting two uptown ladies with big fake tits staring at his crotch.

_Obviously, they're interested in the goods. What girl wouldn't be? They're probably_ _wondering how they can be the lucky ones to celebrate with me_.

Strolling right up to them, his bandy legs now shod in his turquoise and white shitkickers, he smacked the nearest one on the ass as he stuck a dirty fingernail between his teeth, removing a piece of his late hot-dog lunch and giving it a quick flick to the floor.

"How 'bout you two hot babes joining me tonight to celebrate our new relationship?"

No sooner had he closed his mouth then all hell broke loose. The broads started screaming. The cops rushed into the hotel, arrested him for assault and took him downtown to get booked. It had taken him all night to convince them it was just a mistake.

A visit from one of the broad's husbands attempting to get to the bottom of the incident had certainly helped. Apparently, they wanted to fly home quickly, finding the whole experience sordid. _Did I hear that asshole say sordid?_ They refused to press charges and he was released.

Slinking back to his hotel, tired, confused and deflated, he climbed into his hotel bed, alone and lonely. He felt crushed and disillusioned, not understanding why his recent good fortune did not entitle him to any available female he wanted. Bummed out, he deciding to celebrate tomorrow, quietly, by himself.

# Chapter 24

Ginger Mae Shrute sat on the bar stool, scanning her reflection in the expensive mirror on the back bar of the tony _Martini Madness_ on Park Avenue. It was a great location to spot lonely business men casually enjoying a quiet drink before dinner.

From the distance, she realized she still projected a glamorous image, even though she leaned toward the mature side. Only up close could you discern the lines around her eyes that even Botox failed to completely obliterate. And yeah, she knew the five extra pounds needed to come off. But luckily, she still projected the look that had helped her face maintain its healthy, pretty girl next door appeal.

_Lucky with my choice of plastic surgeons,_ she thought cynically, having been nipped and tucked for years. She knew she could pass for thirty five, quite a distance from her actual forty eight. She tried to banish the worry about her longevity in her chosen industry, which remained a game for the youthful.

She still managed to rope them in, but she figured she would last _maybe_ three years before she faced reducing her fees or starting to risk rejection. Her new priority forced her to save every dollar she could, squirreling it away for the time when she could say _fuck you_ to the johns and grab her runaway money to make a last stab at a normal life. As if anyone actually lived a normal life anymore. But she must think of Daisy now.

She checked her emerging grayish-brown roots in the mirror, noting she could get away with them for another two weeks, tops. She had even given up her hairdresser, saving money by coloring her hair herself. Two separate processes. Two separate colors. It looked fairly good. Had to keep her short blond locks natural looking. She had dropped her nail salon too. Glancing at her rosy pink oval nails, she noticed a few chips. A home manicure just didn't hold up half as well as a pro job.

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" Looking up into the bright-blue eyes of a friendly and eager businessman, probably from the Midwest, she dismissed him with a cool eye flick. He was clearly not clued in and would be a waste of her valuable time. Probably thought he had found himself a single NYC career girl who would be overjoyed to burn her evening talking to a married Minnesota businessman in the big city without his wife. He would shoo her out his hotel room door in the morning with a promise to call her next time he was back in town, and then zip back to his upstanding wife and children, all the while congratulating himself on his sophisticated daring in the big city.

"Miss, would you care for a cocktail?" asked Mr. Daring Businessman, trying again. She turned to respond as he stuck out his hand to introduce himself. "Hi, I'm Jackson Bonderclod, friends just call me Jack."

Sighing audibly, Ginger Mae tiredly gathered her drink and purse, shot Mr. Daring Businessman a casual _go fuck yourself_ look, and left him standing with his hand still proffered, an embarrassed surprised look on his marginally attractive face. She slid off her bar stool, noticing the bartender observe the exchange. Well, this should get his panties out of the knot she had probably wadded them up into as he tried to figure out if he was going to have a problem running off a working girl. What working girl would rebuff Mr. Daring Businessman? _The smart ones_ , she grinned to herself, watching the bartender visibly relax as she took a new seat at a small table in the back of the room, all the better to observe her targets from.

She scanned the room, noting the slim prospects. Implementing her new plan required a target of just the right type, easy to manipulate. A dork, hungry to experience what it would be like to have the enthralled attention of the cheerleader that had rebuffed him in high school, the homecoming beauty queen he had secretly beat off to in the privacy of his stinking adolescent bedroom.

She shook her head as she evaluated every man in the room. She knew men better than she knew herself. The disgusting predictability of men always revolved around their cocks.

If she had an extra dollar for every time even the most educated, confident or successful john had said to her, with a nod to their cocks _, "_ So, how ya like it?" she could retire. _If I could just stop laughing first_.

They never understood that a woman judged a man differently. Bright confident smile? Check. Any brains? Check. Can he make me laugh? Check. Does he have a good heart? Check. Does he have any money? Well, can't have everything. These characteristics made the sex good. Not the size of his cock. A woman only cares about the cock if it doesn't work. The johns all think that the bigger the cock, the more a woman will like the sex, therefore, by extension, them.

The only thing Ginger Mae could say about the occasional large dick she had encountered, and she really meant occasional, was that he wasn't touching her with it. She definitely wasn't into pain. And it sure felt miserable, regardless of how hard she faked it. Want to impress a john? Tell him what a sensational cock he had. He would fall in love. If she had realized that when she was eighteen, she would probably own the world by now.

Well, she knew it now. And she planned on making it pay off in a big way while she could still dazzle them. The last time she had found the perfect john, it had lasted five years. She hadn't found it necessary to see any other johns the whole time. He had given her a luxury apartment, charge accounts, elegant dinners, international vacations. All paid for by him.

She had thought it would go on forever. And she had actually grown fond of him. The fact that she had spent all major holidays and most weekends alone mattered little. Just as she was ready to convince him to sign the apartment over to her, she discovered her pregnancy. Foolishly, she had misjudged him. Where she assumed it would only make him feel more responsible, financially of course, she had forgotten how men react when cornered with their own indiscretions.

He had cut off her charge accounts without warning. She had found herself locked out of her apartment and her frantic calls to his cell had stopped being answered. The apartment house concierge had hand-delivered an envelope containing a tersely worded note with $10,000 enclosed. She burned with the humiliating memory. Two words— _Move on._

And she had, of course. A cheap apartment and back to work, fast, before she started to show. Not that the johns would even care all that much. She had worked up until her seventh month. And then Daisy came. She had given birth alone, in her apartment, no one the wiser. She had planned to take the baby and leave it at the local firehouse, but, inexplicably, she had changed her mind. She had kept the baby, found an Armenian woman from her apartment house to babysit and gone back to work four months after the birth. That was over five years ago and to this day, sadly, her little Daisy had yet to utter a single word.

A clattering at the door to the bar caught her attention. Glancing out the windows, she discovered snow, the flakes backlit by the streetlights like rare mid-summer fireflies. Her attention wandered back to the squat figure at the door. She tapped a slender finger on the varnished tabletop. _Hmm_ , she wondered, _let's size this guy up_.

His head bulged out of proportion to his body, his bandy legs were encased in the most ridiculous screaming-yellow cowboy boots. He removed a black leather trench coat trimmed in a silver fur of some sort. Even from her distant seat she could see the buttery texture of the coat. She assumed the boots, although tasteless, had cost a pretty penny. Then he looked up, spotting her staring. She extended a modest smile, trying valiantly to repress her revulsion as she got a clear look at his face. _Oh well, duty calls_. And, quite possibly, he might be the ticket she longed for.

His unsophisticated demeanor stood out like a swarm of hornets at a nudist camp; a real rube. _They made the easiest targets, especially the unfortunate looking ones_. Time to start her act.

Waving wildly to catch his attention, she stood up, dropping her purse in the process. She bent down to retrieve it, allowing him to glimpse the correct amount of thigh. Straightening, she beckoned him to her table again, as he stood there with his mouth open, the dull look in his eyes testimony to slow brain function. She crooked her finger again, encouraging him with another nonthreatening smile. He turned and looked over his right shoulder, then his left. Seeing no one, he hesitantly moved in her direction. As he neared, she pulled out a chair from her table and patted it enthusiastically. Plastering a big smile on her face as he sat, she said to herself, _Okay, Ginger Mae, let's land this big tuna_.

"Hi, I was beginning to think you were standing me up. It's a good thing I waited the extra hour, I thought I might have gotten the time wrong." She opened her eyes wide, batting them charmingly.

"Lady, I have no idea what you're talkin' bout. You must have me confused with someone else." Looking around, he snapped his fingers to summon the attention of the frowning cocktail waitress. "I'm here to celebrate and I don't want no trouble. Ya want something ta drink, since you're here anyway?"

"You mean you aren't my date? You're wearing pretty yellow cowboy boots like Alice told me you would be. And you sure are handsome like she said you would be. Are you saying you're _not_ Jonathan Littlecock?"

" _Littlecock?_ Are you kidding me?" He laughed so hard, slapping his knee, that the bartender looked up to give them a glare. She joined in with his laughter and with that, the ice broke.

It didn't take Ginger Mae long to convince her new friend that her date had failed to show up. It didn't take him long to convince her to spend her evening celebrating with him at his hotel. She knew she had picked the right guy when they left Martini Madness and he took her to his car, a showy Lamborghini SUV with a tacky lightning bolt decal down the side. Her eyes started tabulating major dollar signs.

She almost blew it when they got into the SUV. The odorously strange stale smell in the vehicle, combined with the alcohol, made her nauseous. When her new friend abruptly slid his dirty fingers up her dress and started pawing around, her automatic response was to pop her blade out of her purse and hold it to his throat.

"Now, little lady," he gasped. "I thought we were friends here. Why don't you put your shiny baby away, so we can work out this misunderstanding?" And they actually did. He really warmed up to her after she put her blade away. Who knew he would have a thing for knives and blondes? Maybe this would be easier than she thought.

"Okay, lover, time to saddle up."

"What did you say?"

She looked at his face in surprise, his tone of voice sounding strangled. His big head sat half in shadow, the streetlights failing to fully dispel the winter darkness.

"You alright, lover?" She placed a concerned hand on his meaty thigh. His big pudgy maw slipped down onto hers and he softly patted her hand. In the shadows, she could see a surprisingly enigmatic smile under his crooked nose. She had him. She didn't know what had just happened, but she knew. She had him.

*

Armoni fidgeted, glancing at his Rolex. Time to get his hotel room packed up. He floated, high on an emotional cloud. All thanks to Ginger Mae Shrute. His very own high-class dream girl. And boy could she suck cock. _No wonder the guys always wanted the_ _high-class babes. Who knew?_ Now he could join the club. A fine babe like her didn't come along very often. And she liked knives. Best of all, she liked him. He hadn't minded a bit when, after their night of fucking, she had needed the bucks to have a limo take her home. Of course that's how she got around town. And, after all, her date woulda taken her home. _Good thing the bum never showed._

Luck had sure smiled down on him. Packing up all the new things Ginger Mae had helped him buy for himself took a long time. He hoped she wasn't running late, like him. She asked that most of the goodies he splurged on for her go directly to her home address. She planned to send for them after they got to Florida. Yup, she was going with him.

They had fooled around so much that he had decided to delay his trip for a full week. He bent over a box, wincing as the soreness of his cock reminded him of all the fucking they'd done. She sure was hot for him and his cock; definitely a lot to handle for such a sweetie. And he truly sensed something else in her. Something like he felt in himself and Kelly. He fully intended to bring it to the surface. Yeah, his plans for her made him hard. He just had to be careful how he introduced her to them. _She probably nurses some tender_ _sensibilities, a dame like her._

He filled her in a little, watching closely to see how she reacted to it. He left some of the details vague. Like how his sister and Tomas's murder had gone down. He wasn't really sure how it had happened himself. She knew he lusted for revenge, and she thought he aimed to recover something valuable they'd stolen from him.

She flipped over the idea to go with him, even though it meant she had to quit her important job with a small investment company on Wall Street. He might need some investment advice himself, for sure. Maybe, if things worked out the way he hoped, he'd marry her ass and make her take care of all that.

The only fly in the ointment? Her infernal insistence on all those showers and baths. _For Christ sakes,_ _what a pain in my ass_. He tolerated it only because she let him take a few special sexual liberties; made him feel like a king.

He glanced at his watch, beginning to worry. _What the heck was taking her so long?_ He had given her plenty of money to break her lease and pay off her landlord. He expected it to take a while; after all, she needed to put all her expensive furniture in storage. She had admitted to being a spendthrift. Good thing he would get his hands on more gold. At the rate she used money, he'd be broke in no time. _These classy babes demand_ _expensive upkeep_. _Makes sense_ , he figured, _only the best for the best_.

He heard a knock at the door. Relief made Armoni's legs turn to jelly. His girl had made it. He rushed to the door, happiness plastered all over his grotesque mug. As he opened the door, Ginger Mae breezed in with a quick kiss on the lips and an unusually tense look on her elegant face.

His brows scrunched up, a question on the tip of his tongue, when Ginger Mae moved aside, slipping her arm around a frightened little girl hiding behind her skirt: small with dark brown, almost black, silken hair worn loose and long. Her skin pale, almost translucent. But her eyes, they grabbed him. Her pupils, devoid of almost all color, reflected a piercingly intelligent all-knowing quality. He could see a small resemblance to Ginger Mae, as the girl clearly reflected the same elegance.

"What the fuck is this, Ginger Mae?"

Ignoring Armoni, Ginger Mae knelt down in front of the girl, whispered in her ear and directed her to a blush silk divan in the corner. She turned to Armoni with a contrite and pious look on her face.

"This is my brother's daughter. Her mother ran off after her birth. My brother served in the Army, stationed in North Korea. We lost him during the slaughter in the mist of the Bau Liberation, when Daisy turned six months old. I'm her only relative. She's my responsibility now. She thinks I'm her mother. It's easier that way." Turning to Daisy, she sent her an air kiss.

Continuing in a whisper, she turned back to Armoni. "She's mute. We have to take her with us. I can't leave her behind. Don't worry, she won't get in the way, lover."

"I didn't sign up for no brat to come with us." Armoni started pacing, seeing all his plans go up in smoke. Ginger Mae looked over to Daisy with a reassuring glance. She grabbed Armoni's hand and pulled him into the huge bathroom. She slowly started to remove her clothes, not taking her eyes off Armoni.

"Well, I guess we're going to have to say goodbye then. So let's do it properly. I need something to remember you by."

Armoni watched her body reveal itself. That bitching body belonged to him. He had practically paid for it. He ran his hands over her breasts, squeezing them painfully. The look on Ginger Mae's face showed only sadness and passion.

"Oh baby, give it to me, please, I need you one more time."

_Was that a tear falling down her beautiful cheek? She must feel really broken up about this._ He stared at her face, those eyes, those cheekbones, wondering how much he would miss her. He felt her fingers at his zipper and the cool moisture of her expert tongue on his cock. Moaning, he ran his fingers through her hair. He melted under her onslaught, helpless to give her up. Exasperated, he realized the kid would have to come. Somehow, he would need to adjust. At least things remained under his control and Ginger Mae still belonged to him. His plan remained intact, with a minor adjustment for the kid. Relieved, he turned his full attention to her breasts, biting down hard enough to hear her muffle a scream. He still needed to remind her who wore the pants. Looking into her bewitching face, he saw it tighten, her eyes flashing an obvious, ill-concealed gleam of contempt. The perpetually obtuse Armoni, mistaking it for passion, excitedly bit down hard again, feeling like he had died and gone to heaven.

# Chapter 25

Abby and Jose sat in green and white striped lounge chairs on the flagstone terrace above their natural rock waterfall where they could observe Scotty, happily tossing Echo into the shallow end of the pool. Barney chaotically lunged at the water, jumping back, not sure of the rules of the new game. Changes had come fast for the family in the five months since they had left Sussex County and moved to Mango Lane, their opulent new home and an unimaginable paradise.

They had installed Peter in the 4,400 square foot, custom, red-tile roofed, Spanish-style waterfront home next door to the right. The lemon-yellow art deco gem to their left remained empty, although fully furnished. They hoped Mama Diaz, Bonnie and Emma would join them soon. The house would knock their socks off.

Abby, Scotty and Jose occupied the 6,800 square foot Tuscan olive Mediterranean dream in the middle with lush landscaping, reminiscent of the famous Selby Gardens in downtown Sarasota; over a hundred and fifty palm trees of eight varieties, lush plumeria and giant jungle geranium. Fortunately, because they were on a tiny island less than half a mile wide, they had saved themselves the unpleasant experience of dealing with the tropical snakes that habitually nested in palm trees. The trees and vibrant flowering bushes encompassed the whole property, including across the bay front of the lot. The people who had built the home had sure valued their privacy. The home became a true sanctuary for the beleaguered family.

One of the lovely surprises of the island delighted them all as they enjoyed the presence of a flock of Sand Hill cranes, the most comically amazing birds. Some of the cranes grew as much as five-feet tall with vibrant red caps of feathers on their heads. They imperiously strolled the sidewalks, the streets and the front yards as they pleased. Promenading in pairs or threesomes, they never hurried, they never acknowledged, they never acquiesced. They clearly owned the small island.

Jose stretched in the sun, admiring Abby's tawny tail as it switched languidly behind her lounge chair. Her hair long and lush, full of the golden silk hairs which had first been discovered the wondrous night that had united them. Their exposure in public now seemed a dangerous adventure as they just plain glowed too much. The three of them were now covered with an exceedingly fine layer of golden fuzz from the neck down. From the distance, it looked like skin, but they found themselves unable to avoid the stares that accompanied close inspection from strangers. All three had developed protrusions on each side of their shoulder blades. Comparing their changes with Echo's physiology, they suspected the emergence of wings. The idea thrilled them, but would they work? Would it mean flight? Echo's wings may have functioned at one time, but now they lay lifeless against her furry little back. When asked about the wings, Echo would only reply that she was not an Elder.

Surprisingly, Echo began to pester them with the surprising desire to increase the size of their family—their doggy family. She claimed Barney was lonesome and needed a mate. That's how it started. Poor Peter. He became the official furry buddy locator. To his credit, he never complained, even when Penny, their new springer spaniel, vomited on the front seat of his gleaming BMW.

Penny behaved like a doll. Liver and white with flowing feather-like fur, she loved people, tolerated other dogs, and exhibited an above-it-all attitude when it came to doggy/Echo horseplay. The next addition was Mimi, a black and white Shih Tzu puppy mill mommy. All used up and ready to throw away, she had luckily been rescued by a devoted group of women committed to the effort. Peter had spotted her at the local pet food store, mistaking her for a skunk until she turned her sweet face around. He couldn't resist. Poor Mimi, unfortunately afflicted with cataracts, mammary tumors and food aggression, but, it turned out, also desperate for love. Lucky for her, the inhabitants of Mango Lane had plenty to spare.

Scotty's hands stayed full with the doggy troupe and he appeared to settle into their new environment nicely. He did get a car. A modest maroon Jeep Wolfhound, used mostly on their little island. Jose put his foot down about Scotty driving off the key without being accompanied by one of the adults, including Peter.

Scotty didn't object much as he spent most of his extra time with his outboard motorboat, large enough for Echo and usually one or two of the dogs. Jose's number one rule—no exceptions—demanded life jackets for all; especially Echo and the dogs. Scotty knew how to swim, thanks to a summer recreation program at the local town pool in Newtown when he was in seventh and eighth grades. But everyone knew that the currents in the deceptive bay could be tricky. The dogs could become a handful whenever Scotty lucked on a pod of dolphins to chase, the excitement overwhelming them. Scotty struggled to hold them back, their determination to join the dolphins' play a risk to them all.

The bay teemed with dolphins, all individually known through the studies of the famous Mote Marine Laboratory, located on City Island in the bay in Sarasota. Sarasota Bay, declared by the U.S. Congress an estuary of national significance, boasted an aquarium which opened to the public. The Mote Marine Lab was well known for their studies of sharks, sea turtles, dolphins, red tide, environmental toxins, coral reefs and costal ecology, which beckoned tantalizingly to Scotty. Enlisting Peter, he paid it a visit. A risky business, considering the fact that Peter operated in the dark, still unaware of their true nature.

*

Jose thought back to his miraculous arrival in Sarasota. Knocking on Abby's door, they had entered her luxury suite at her hotel to find her drawn and frightened. Signs of dried tears had trailed down her pale face. Throwing herself into Jose's arms, she had babbled that Peter's secretary was dead. The police had demanded Peter fly back home for questioning. The words murder and rape had hung in the air. Calming her down, Jose had learned that the police wanted him to return too; ostensibly to discuss the _issues_. Full panic mode had set in, scaring everyone.

Luckily, in all the drama and shock of Tiffany's rape and murder, Peter's requested meeting had failed to materialize. Jose had decided to accompany Peter back to Sussex County. He wanted to stay close to the investigation, hoping Armoni would not surface as part of it. But sooner or later, Jose knew Peter would find the time to sit them all down and start asking questions.

While Peter handled questions from the police, Jose had tried to find Mama Diaz and the girls. Not knowing where or how to start, he had wisely hired a private investigator. He had spent half a day filling the investigator in on all he knew of the Diaz family before his adoption. He had felt certain, with the Internet, that it wouldn't take long before the investigator produced results. Four months later, still no news.

The investigation into Tiffany's killer had landed at a dead end. Jose had reported the small encounter between Armoni and Tiffany, but the police had dismissed Armoni as a suspect. No motive and negligible connection. Oddly, the police had mentioned that Armoni's house had been torched on the same day as Tiffany's murder. There had been no sightings of Armoni since. _And the cops_ _didn't see a connection?_ Feeling the heavy weight of dread, Jose thought the coincidence ominous.

Bringing his thoughts back to the terrace, he stood up, surveying the lush tropical property and looking down toward the gazebo-bedecked dock where Scotty's skiff and the colossal green and white yacht swayed gently, water lapping at the hulls.

Captain Cobby glanced his way and gave a friendly wave. Jose waved back, noting Captain Cobby's twenty-year-old son Kane in the water, scrubbing away at the marks left by the waterline. Jose knew nothing of what it took to be a yacht owner. It was said that the happiest days of a yacht owner's life were when he purchased his yacht and then again when he resold it. He had yet to discover the veracity of the saying. He really thought it silly for them to own such a vessel, but for some reason Abby had taken a shine to it.

Truth be told, he didn't believe Abby actually felt happy. He knew something was missing. Not so much about her feelings for him, but something deeper, something profound that she needed to resolve on her own, undoubtedly tied to the death of her mother. It made him sad, knowing he couldn't help her discover the comfort she needed. But he loved her dearly and hesitated to deny her anything.

As he watched Kane scrub the yacht, he hoped Kane and Scotty could get along better. Territorial resentment had blossomed instantly between the two when they moved in. Jose supposed it was natural. They were so close in age, their relationship was bound to go one way or the other. Apparently Kane saw Scotty as an interloper, and Scotty saw Kane as a macho Italian know-it-all. If Kane's sullen attitude didn't improve in time, he would have to talk to his father. They lived in the carriage house behind the art deco home that remained empty. Jose felt having them nearby a great benefit, especially since Captain Cobby also served as security to the property.

Picking up his cellphone, he called Peter for an update on Mama Diaz. Happily, Peter reported the investigator had finally made some progress. They had located the family near a suburb of Short Hills, not far from the area where Abby used to live in as a child, probably a mere coincidence. They both agreed that Jose should be the one to fly to New Jersey to break the news of Tomas's death and convince them to move to Florida. Jose decided to talk to Abby about it later that night. He wanted to keep close, hoping to keep her upbeat. Her moods vacillated so widely these days, he wanted to get a good day under their belt before she learned he would be leaving.

*

Scotty knew he must always wear a long-sleeved shirt over his swim trunks when he was on the water and around the backyard, but Echo presented a larger problem. She insisted on going with Scotty when he took the skiff out. Abby helpfully took some fabric and stitched together a jumpsuit that disguised most of Echo's uniqueness. Gloves worked fairly well for her hands. A pair of diver's goggles strapped around Echo's face helped greatly, but could not hide her crown of crystal antlers.

Maneuvering quickly away from other boats helped to evade troubling inquiries. So far, the only mishap had occurred when Scotty had forgotten to fill the gas tank before he departed. Forced to use the yacht to rescue Scotty and his posse, Kane had enjoyed his opportunity to gloat as they towed a red-faced Scotty back to the dock.

Trying to explain Echo's unusual appearance took some imagination. Claiming that Abby and Scotty's father, a world-renowned geneticist, had gifted them with Echo, who they no longer needed as a test subject, appeared to work. They claimed Echo resulted from a genetic engineering project regarding gene splicing. Rather than terminate her at the end of the failed project, they made her a family pet. It sounded plausible enough and worked for now. But they still tried to keep Echo's exposure to an extreme minimum, even from the Cobbys. It was one thing to fool a couple of yacht jocks, but anyone with an Internet connection and an inquiring mind could poke holes in their story. Anyone like Peter.

# Chapter 26

Abby lay back on her green wicker lounge chair, enjoying the kiss of the sun seeping into her thirsty skin underneath the tiny gold fibers that encapsulated her arms and chest. She found it easier to accept her changes as she watched Scotty and Jose taking them in stride. If she felt uneasy, she hid it well. It had taken her several months to dismiss the meaning of the pronouncement Echo had made to Jose in the limo on the journey to Florida. Her practical side thought Jose may have misunderstood.

Her initial reaction had been to laugh, but Jose tried to convince her that Echo may not have the best interest of humans in her heart. They had lived with Echo for six months now, and Abby had seen no behavior to suggest such a thing. The only disturbing facts were the little matter of Echo and the skeletons. The events that day back in Sussex were so traumatic and fuzzy in her memory that she no longer cared where the skeletons were. Since Echo's reaction had saved her from serious harm, she considered herself lucky. As a matter of fact, Echo seemed unusually attached to them. Not a problem. Since the three of them were all a bit love-starved for family, Echo fit right in.

The changes to their bodies were another matter, and they were not sure how any of them would react if the swellings on their backs developed into wings as they suspected. Lying in the sun in the lap of luxury, healthy as the proverbial horse, Abby reveled in her new lease on life; not at all what had been foretold by her doctors as an abnormally short and difficult life span. She therefore refused to fret as Jose did. See no evil . . . If she must put up with her amazing tail and some cryptic remarks from Echo in exchange, she was willing; outrageously, gratefully willing. She realized she wanted to live a healthy life so badly she would do anything, contend with anything. She wondered what her mom would think if she had lived. Abby ached with the thought of what she could have done for her mother's hard and meager existence, the delight she would have taken in their good fortune. She longed to share her newfound love with her mother. She needed her. When would the pain of her loss go away? And poor Scotty; he still needed their mother's guidance and unconditional love, a critical foundation from which all healthy children developed the courage needed to find their own pathway through an often turbulent and malevolent world.

From out of nowhere, Mimi stood up at the side of Abby's lounge chair, her cloudy cataract eyes unblinking, begging to be picked up. Most of the time, she scurried around like an orphan, afraid she was going to be shown the door. Funny, that was exactly how Abby sometimes felt. Picking Mimi up, she cradled her in her arms, trying to reassure the little dog, knowing no one could. Just like no one could reassure her. Sometimes she felt that if she could just keep her pain sealed up, it would go away. Looking into Mimi's tortured eyes, she knew they could both only hope.

Later that evening, as they clustered around their new eighty-two-inch high-frequency macro digital television, she watched Jose tickling Echo, Barney and Penny on the sofa while Scotty lay on the plush carpet with Mimi. Abby, sitting in her favorite Chippendale-style wing back armchair—the one with the cabbage rose needlepoint—leafed through a vintage Stephen King novel as she tried to ignore the noise of the television. Glancing up, she saw a special announcement regarding the health of the Socialist New World presidential candidate, Omar Nasir's, wife Jane. She reportedly remained in a coma, and it was doubtful she would survive.

The news anchor moved on to another story. A young manatee had been found floating alongside the shore at Philippe Creek. Badly injured by a boat propeller, his tail had been severed. Having little hope of survival, he was rushed to the Mote Marine Laboratory for assessment and care. Moving on to the next story, Abby lost interest. Her thoughts drifted back to the unfortunate Jane Nasir.

When their realtor, the aging but elegant Sylvia, with the ever-coiffed honey-blond hair—expertly highlighted, of course—toured Sarasota with them, she pointed out the mansions of many of the most famous residents of their community, including a mention of the Nasir mansion. Apparently, he did not spend much time there, as he was trying to beat his competition for his party's nomination to run against the Muslim Brotherhood's candidate for the office of the presidency.

At the time, Abby showed no interest in Silvia's story. She was not a political junky like so many others. Today, the media sources in Sarasota were having a field day with the story of Mrs. Nasir's sudden strange illness. Most residents, regardless of their political affiliations, prayed she would recover. The Nasir family were not the only local celebrities this town boasted, but they were the most important.

Abby wondered if Omar Nasir were to win the national election, would it have any effect on the residents of Sarasota? She also thought Jose should check on Peter's progress in locating a diamond cutter. They didn't need more money, but they could use the sale of the diamonds to acquire more property on the island to further insulate them. Just in case.

Seeing Jose try to stand and shake off his furry demons, Abby realized it was time for bed. Admonishing Scotty not to stay up too late, they said goodnight and retired to their bedroom, sometimes the best part of their day. Jose lay down on the purple patchwork comforter, flicking the gold rope trim with his fingers as Abby slipped into her modest cotton nightgown.

Hearing a soft scratch at the door, he rose to let Mimi in. She ran over to the bed, her desperation to get up comical; the bed was a full four feet over her head. Taking pity on her, Jose scooped her up, barely touching her as Mimi used his hands to push herself off and jump to the top. Glancing at Abby, he saw she had noticed.

"Every time I think I have no more room in my heart, along comes something like Mimi."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I have a weakness for her too. She's my girl," Jose said tenderly. He rolled onto his back, where Mimi promptly walked up the length of his body to rest on his chest where she made herself comfortable, her eyes fastened on him like a laser. Jose, in turn, watched Abby as she prepared for bed.

"I've been thinking a lot lately." Abby scrubbed her face, shouting from their Verde marble bathroom.

"Anything interesting?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just feeling restless. Any news on Peter's efforts to locate Mama Diaz?" She moved back to the bedroom.

"As a matter of fact, we do have news. The investigators have located them in Short Hills. I want to fly to New Jersey and bring them back with me. I won't feel good again until I know they're safe and sound with us. I can't go on in the dark anymore. Not again."

At the tone of his voice, Abby let the subject drop, surprised at the oblique reference. She knew Jose didn't like to talk about his first family. He had been very young and didn't remember much anyway. Glancing over at him as she brushed her silken hair, she could tell his past rested heavily on his mind, his dark face was tight and tense—he hid tension poorly. The only sign that he physically lay in the opulent room with her was when he buried his face in Mimi's fur, seeking solace. Sadly, she acknowledged that she didn't know how to help him heal his old, deep wounds.

Trying to get his mind off his sad past, Abby slipped into their huge walk-in closet. There she shed her modest nightgown and donned the ivory silk nightie, purchased for just the right moment. Lighting a long wax taper, she carried it into the bedroom to see Jose depositing Mimi on a raspberry upholstered vanity bench. Letting Jose take a long look, she grinned and turned off the bedroom light. Carrying the candle to the bed, Jose took it from her hand, setting it on the carved mahogany side table. Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her.

"You're all I need right now, babe." Holding her in his arms, he froze, then turned her around. Startled, she let him lift her nightie off her back. He ran his hand over what used to be smooth skin.

"Does this hurt? Your changes are becoming more obvious." Looking closer, he commented on the bony growth that had thickened, flanges sprouting all over the widening surface. "Can you check my back, babe? What do you see—anything new?" Turning, Jose presented his back to her.

"This is way too freaky. Maybe we need to go to the authorities with this?" Looking closely, Abby could see he was further along than her, feathers sprouting all over the flanges that were actually made of keratin. Like fingernails, rhino horn or the framework of a bird's wing. Soon, he would not be safe without a jacket over his shirt. How do you do that in a hot climate?

" _Are you nuts, Abby?_ That would ruin us." Lowering his voice, he sounded more reasonable. "They would take all the dogs and Echo away from us. They would probably separate us too. You know you can't trust the authorities, or the government. We're on our own. It'll be okay, babe. No matter what happens, we have to keep a low profile. Things are fine. Let's not rock the boat."

"But how long do you think we can stay cooped up in this house?"

"As long as we need to." She could hear the impatience start to build in his voice. Dropping what she realized was starting to sound like whining, she changed the subject.

"Would you like to think about having a baby?"

"Now? Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I don't know. I guess I just want to hear that you'll consider it—if we can find out from Echo that it's safe."

"As soon as we resolve some of our loose ends, I promise I'll highjack Barney and refuse to give him back until we get some answers from her." Pulling her down on the bed, he blew out the candle, but not before, through the wafting gray wisp of candle smoke, he caught a glimpse of her relieved smile.

*

Downstairs, Scotty and Echo were making big plans. The evening newscast had not gone unnoticed. Without realizing Echo's manipulation, Scotty decided that tonight held the opportunity they had long awaited. When they were sure Abby and Jose had turned off their bedroom lights, they raced outside the house, down to the quiet dock. The moon hung high and bright in the sky as if a child had cut out a silver circle and pasted it onto a blanket of rich black velvet. The luminescence gave them a lucky break. Scotty lifted Echo and Barney into the shallow skiff, helping them into their orange life jackets before belting them snugly. For the last time, he consulted the map he had pulled off the Internet. He pushed off, gliding noiselessly into the foreboding cold water of the bay, not even a flirty wave to distract them.

Instructing an excited Barney not to whine or bark, Scotty navigated the small skiff through the silent water, eyes peeled for other larger boats, hoping to stay out of the way. The skiff lacked running lights, a huge handicap in the dark. Luckily, Scotty had grabbed a flashlight to use on the other end of their operation. It would come in handy if they needed to announce their presence to another boat, preventing them from getting swamped.

As the skiff settled in the water, making slow progress, they felt the late spring evening rawness in the air. The light scent of brine enveloped them. From time to time, they would hear a solitary splash in the ghostly distance. They listened, all ears to the creepy calm quietude as they glided across the bay.

Nearing their destination, Scotty steered to the shore, hugging the broken rocky coastline so as not to overshoot their destination. Before long, they spotted the aquarium. They quickly docked, pulling the skiff up over the rocks to dry white sand, the moon magically changing it to an unbroken field of snow. Tying Barney to the skiff with instructions to stay put, Scotty and Echo scouted the vacant buildings, looking for the medical unit. Studying the layout confidently shown for the tourists on their website made the search easy for them. But the only entry point they could find was over a wall which supported the seawater tanks filled with sea turtles. The wall loomed too high for Scotty to grab on to, no matter how hard he tried. Looking at Echo, they both realized what they must do.

"If you can't find the manatee, try to find another way to let me in. I'll help. You sure you can handle this alone?"

"Yes, Brother Scotty; I survived alone for over a century until you found me. I will be successful. Thank you for your help." As the mind aura faded, Echo held out her arms and Scotty boosted her up the wall, her leathery feet catching close to the top. Saved by the suction effect of her fingers, she righted herself. She finished the climb and disappeared. Scotty looked up, seeing nothing. Five seconds passed and suddenly Echo's face reappeared. A rainbow aura suffused his mind.

"We are a good team, Brother Scotty—My Barney too." And she vanished again. Shaking his head in amusement, Scotty slumped down on the cold sand to wait for Echo, dampness seeping through the seat of his shorts, goosebumps making the hair on his legs prickle.

Taking any kind of action in their quest to save earth creatures was fulfilling. He paused, reflecting on how much he sounded like Echo when she had first suggested their secret alliance. This was not their first mission, of course. Not far down the coast existed a small shallow beach aptly named Turtle Beach. The green sea turtles' nesting areas were staked out by volunteers, marked to protect them from marauding human profiteers who would eagerly dig them up and sell the eggs to be eaten as delicacies. The efforts of the volunteers were usually fruitless, the poachers cleaning out the nests relentlessly, year after year. As a result, the green sea turtle numbered amongst the most endangered of sea creatures.

One night he had taken the skiff down the coast with his two cohorts. The overcast sky had looked bleak, waves kicking up bitter spray, whipping needle-like in their faces. Echo had located the beach, instructing Scotty to stay on the skiff with Barney, who had tightly hunkered down, shivering. Echo would not be long. Watching from the skiff, Scotty had swallowed his breath, his eyes bugging out in the cold wind as Echo had stood calmly in the coral sand, her crystal antlers peeling apart, releasing a stream of black-red liquid that had surrounded the beach and burrowed under the sand. Echo had announced she was finished, hopped back into the boat and they had sped home, anxious to sneak back to the safety and comfort of Scotty's bedroom.

It had only taken a week before a news story had appeared, commenting on the oddity of a man and woman found on the beach, victims of heart attacks; illegal digging and containment equipment found with them. The reporter had added that they were well known to the police as local poachers. Within a week, three more heart attack victims had been found. Mission accomplished; all poachers exterminated. The baby turtles were then able to climb from their nests, making their run for the ocean unimpeded by avaricious humans.

Did Scotty feel any sense of remorse for his contribution to the deaths of the poachers? Was Echo's influence on a young mind profound enough to make Scotty disregard all he had been taught about law and order? Or was Scotty just reacting with the naive exuberance of an idealistic youth, torn between the never-ending struggle between man, the predator, and wildlife, the prey? Scotty stroked his tail as it unfurled from under his shirt. Was he himself no longer human? Was he now wildlife himself?

Scotty heard a shuffling sound. Looking up, he spied Echo's adorable golden face, her hair standing on edge as she flew off the top of the wall, confidently relying on Scotty to catch her in his arms.

"Gee, how about a little warning, girl? Some day you're going to wind up on my head." He hoisted Echo up under his arm like a football on its way to the homecoming touchdown. They ran for the skiff, where their major domo, Barney, continued to hold his own with the tide. Slipping Barney off his rope, Scotty pushed off and gave the outboard a tug, welcoming the quiet purr of the engine. Echo climbed up Barney's back, their faces to the wind like pirates on the lookout after a particularly difficult raid. The adrenalin in Scotty's bloodstream subsided as they reached home. He wondered where their next rescue would take them.

# Chapter 27

Jose sipped coffee from a handmade artisan mug, acquired by their interior designer, like everything else in their dream house. Vapid daylight struggled its way through the celestial kitchen windows, announcing the radiant Sarasota sunshine, still hours away. He scanned the headlines in the newspaper, noting that Jane Nasir had died. Hadn't he heard something about the Nasirs on the television a few nights ago? Glancing at a sidebar, he located a poll result showing her husband was sure to be the nominee for his party during the upcoming presidential election. He wondered how a man could continue with an objective like that when his wife had just died. He thought he'd heard they had a young child. He fought off a brief moment of deja vu.

Scratching his unshaven whiskers, he absently reached for a sweet roll, food no longer the enticement it once was. Was it a side effect of love or perhaps his body's changes? He thought back to their days in Sussex County and realized he couldn't pinpoint when his appetite had disappeared. He made a note to speak to Echo about that later, if he could find her. She and Scotty had sure seemed thick as thieves over the last few weeks. They were developing a bad habit of sleeping late, some days past noon.

Refilling his cup, he turned the page, his eyes coming to rest on the unusual story of the young manatee rescued several days ago, near Philippi Creek. The young manatee's prognosis had been hopeless, having lost its tail to a boat propeller. Propellers created just one of the tragic dangers for the precious ocean wildlife that had to compete with the heavy influx of recreational boating. The article went on to claim that the poor manatee had become a victim of a hoax perpetrated by a malicious prankster. The grievously injured manatee had been taken to the Mote Marine Laboratory for examination. In the morning, mysteriously, the manatee had disappeared and been replaced with a healthy young male, the injured male nowhere to be found. Lab officials were outraged to see a grievously injured creature callously used for a prank. Authorities were not amused.

_Sick_ , Jose thought. Glancing at his new Rolex, a present from Abby for his twenty-fourth birthday, he noticed it was time to get his rear in gear, not wanting to show up late for his meeting with Peter. Finishing his coffee, he ran out the front door, fighting his way through the thick brush of red Peace rosebushes, stately date and royal palms which served as easy access to Peter's house next door.

Ringing the doorbell, Jose surveyed the property. Not bad for a lawyer from Sussex County. Although Jose and Abby retained ownership, Peter lived there as if it were his own. They had allowed him to work with the decorator to select his own furnishings and, as a result, Peter had gone with a very stylized contemporary décor; quite sparse, but elegant.

"Hey, Jose, come on in." Peter stepped back from the doorway, admitting him into a two-story foyer with twin walls flanked by giant fiberglass Siamese cats, backs arched and faux-painted so artistically they looked ready to pounce. Peter looked like he had just rolled out of bed, his sandy-brown hair plastered in three different directions. Removing his frameless eyeglasses he stood, cleaning them on his shirt, his owl-like eyes unblinking, as Jose made himself comfortable on the baby-blue Natuzzi leather sofa in Peter's minimalist living room.

"I would like to get to Short Hills as soon as possible. Can you drop me at the Sarasota airport? I'll be ready to leave late tomorrow afternoon."

"Sure, buddy, just let me know what time, unless you want me to make your flight reservation for you?"

"No, I just need to talk to Scotty first. I'll catch up with you later, thanks." Leaving Peter's house, he headed to the docks to inform Captain Cobby.

# Chapter 28

Scotty spread out the newspapers that Jose had left on the kitchen table, noting with a laugh the story of the manatee. He looked up on hearing the French door to the terrace open with Echo hanging on to the doorknob for dear life as it swung into the kitchen. She hung off the floor, her tiny leather hands wrapped around the knob while her scrawny feet dangled in the air. Barney looked up from the terrace where he was playing tag with the rest of the posse. In a jiffy, Barney scooted under Echo, enabling her to drop down on his back, then she slipped down to the floor and ran over to Scotty.

"I would have opened the door for you, girl."

"Yes, thank you, Brother Scotty, but I wanted to do it myself."

Scotty shook his head, turning back to the newspaper. Leafing through, he slowly searched the pages for a lead for their next rescue. Their missions made his life more meaningful. Creatures never turned on him, or called him names, or tormented him. They enchanted him, becoming his friends. Very often, they needed protection. Now, with Echo's prompting, he had found a way to give his life a purpose: hermit by day, hero by night.

Stopping to read a story about recently discovered brutalized dog carcasses which had led authorities to suspect the whereabouts of a sophisticated dog fighting ring, he noticed Echo on high alert, her golden eyes locked on him like a drunk walking out of unsuccessful rehab and spotting an unattended liquor store. How did she know that he had found a story that interested him? Her aura filled his mind.

"I think we will be busy tonight, Brother Scotty."

"Oh, you do? It says here the cops don't know where the gang is warehousing the dogs. So how do you think we can help?"

"Brother Scotty, can I tell you a secret?"

Scotty nodded, intensely interested.

"I know where they are."

"No."

"Yes."

"You can't."

"I can."

"Son of a gun."

"Son of a gum?"

"No. Gun."

"You have no gun?"

"No, Echo, I said son—never mind."

"Are you okay, Brother Scotty?"

Shaking his head with amusement, Scotty realized Echo could frustrate the heck out of him. But—time to get their fly on. "I'm fine, little dude. Midnight then, and you're sure where to go?"

Rainbows flashed their aura as Echo ran out to the terrace with Barney, trailing tentacles of light. "Trust me, my Brother."

*

At half past midnight, they were on University Boulevard, heading inland. They had passed over the Sarasota border to Bradenton five minutes ago, and Scotty had no idea where they were now. This move was making him nervous. Abby and Jose would kill him if they knew he had gone off the island. Clouds covered the sky: no stars, no moon. The further east they drove, the more the traffic thinned.

"You sure about this, Echo?"

"Yes, Brother, the Womb is never wrong."

Oh yeah, the great mysterious Womb. Scotty decided to let it pass and contemplated the plan. Echo claimed she knew where the dogs were being housed. Once they located the spot, they planned to reconnoiter, then heal any dogs that needed medical care. They aimed to tip off the cops about the location, letting the experts take it from there.

The newspaper said tourists had stumbled over the dumpsite. Over two hundred dogs, in various stages of decay, had been discarded. All of the fighters' skulls had been bashed in by baseball bats and something heavier. It had only taken one blow with the heavy weapon, multiples with the bat. The small dogs ranged from six pounds to fifteen. They were training bait; ripped to shreds. The authorities reluctantly admitted many of the bait dogs had been reported stolen over the last two years.

Scotty figured the live dogs couldn't be far away from the dumpsite. An hour later, they turned off the main road onto a gravel road which led to an empty field. Scotty hadn't seen a house in about twenty minutes.

"Stop here, Brother." The aura swirled in his mind as they got out of the Jeep with a flashlight. Covering the lens, he turned it on and kneeled down, examining the trampled grass and abundance of tire tracks. He surveyed the field, locating an opening at the far end. As they crossed the field, the dark silence penetrated, setting off his chattering nerves and fluttering heart as he tried to remember what he knew about Florida snakes and their hunting habits. He picked up Echo, depositing her on his shoulder as he stepped into the woods on the far side of the field. He could clearly make out a well-traveled path that led deeper into the woods.

"You sure we're in the right spot, girl?"

"Yes, my Brother." They walked another twenty minutes before they heard the sounds _. Barking dogs_. They crept through the woods, trying to be silent while sweat rolled down Scotty's face, attracting bugs that deviled him unmercifully.

Suddenly, they found themselves on the edge of an open clearing. Creeping closer, they could see the shed that housed the dogs; a spotlight fastened to a tree lit up the tableau focused around a bench underneath. To their consternation, a cluster of men milled around the bench. As they watched, one of the men dragged a bloody pit bull from the shed, the dog clearly on his last legs. In one practiced motion, the dog was lifted onto the bench while another man swung a giant sledgehammer over his head and down on the dying pit bull's head with a sickening crunch. Rivulets of blood spattered the jeans of the jostling men. The dog was slung into a waiting wheelbarrow filled with other dead dogs. They heard a guttural cry from the wheel barrel, the victim not yet dead.

Echo's golden aura darkened, grinding with tumult, as Scotty's stomach turned with revulsion. Tears flowed from his eyes as he berated himself for not arriving sooner. They froze at the sound of a round being chambered into a shotgun from behind them.

"Anything I can do to help ya, boy?" Scotty found himself looking down the barrel of a rifle held by one of the fattest black men he'd ever seen.

"Brother Scotty, this is not a good human."

"You're probably right, Echo."

"What'd you say, boy? Get your ass up and start walkin'. Yo, Red, got some company." The man with the rifle lifted his foot, giving Scotty a rough shove. As he fell to his knees, Echo scrambled around to face the man, her stance ready to fight. Unexpectedly, the obese man's hand shot out, grabbing Echo by her antlers, upending her. He threw her over his back and booted Scotty over to the gathered men where he heard the sound of other weapons being cocked.

"Well, looky—"

"Hey—"

"—just a kid—"

" _Quiet._ " __ A black man, about thirty years old— _kind of hard to tell with the glare of the_ _spotlight_ —with dyed red hair stepped forward. He set the sledgehammer __ down on the ground. Silence settled on the group as Red stepped forward, flexing his rippling muscles. An atmosphere of barely controlled violence clung to him like stink on a skunk. In the background, the soft whining and whimpers from the shed signaled the dogs' sensitivity to the charged atmosphere around the killing bench.

"What the hell you got there, Ton?"

"Don't rightly know." Ton slapped Echo down on the bench, her golden fur soaking up the blood from the dog they had just butchered. Red looked over to Scotty, eyeing him up and down.

"Well, if you don't look like a pretty boy. I think we might have some plans for you. Keys?" He stuck his hand out to Scotty. Scotty looked at Red's hand, struggling to control his adrenaline and interpret the question.

"Car keys, hand them over."

Scotty quickly pulled his keys from his pocket. Red snatched them up, signaling to his men. Scotty felt a punch to his kidneys, the man swearing and holding his hand.

"What the fuc—" Scotty felt his shirt being ripped from his back; his tail unfurled and his wings shook out.

"Holy Mother, bring him to the bench." The men hung back, whispers floating all around him. Red looked from Scotty to Echo.

"What do we have here, boy? Kid, you gonna answer me?" Scotty's knees shook. He needed to sit before he collapsed. He peeked at Echo from the corner of his eye. She just lay there in the dog blood, one of the men holding on to her antlers, the baseball bat in his hand.

"Boss, how 'bout we use the animal for bait? Why waste 'em?"

"Hold on, Trolley. I need some info first. Anybody know you're out here, kid?"

"No." Too late, Scotty realized he should probably have lied.

"What's with the wings and tail? You some kind a freak?"

Scotty said nothing.

"Trolley, why don't you give his pet there a taste a that bat?"

Before Scotty could say a word, the bat came down across Echo's round abdomen, splitting it open, spattering the bench with her golden blood.

" _Nooo_." Scotty broke away, running to Echo. His tail rose high in the air, extruding its healing membrane. "You stupid fools; you don't know what you've done!" Pressure and the smell of sulfur accompanied Scotty's tail as it healed Echo, knitting her torn flesh and splintered bones together.

The ground began to tremble. The men stood frozen, unable to process what was happening before their eyes. Scotty scooped up a dazed Echo, the ground now rumbling and heaving. He ran to the shed, hunkering down on the ground as the earth near the bench split open, leaving a perfectly round hole from which a thick snake-like monstrosity emerged, shooting up into the night to hang threateningly over the men who cringed like cowards against the wheelbarrow containing the tragic evidence of their greed and brutality.

The monstrosity from the hole undulated and hung poised in the air as if playing with the men, gently swaying as it considered its first victim. Everything happened in a split second. The head of the snake-like thing split open, extruding a thick pulsating membrane, similar to the one that resided in Scotty and Echo's tail. It sprayed the men with a stream of black goop, then dashed into the shed as the goop ate away at the men. Scotty got a big whiff of sulfur from the shed as the membranous snake emerged. It hung in the air, as if debating what to do with them. Slowly, it lowered until it fluttered massively in front of Scotty's face. It moved imperceptibly as if it could smell him. Scotty felt chilled in the humid stinking air, afraid to breathe. It suddenly dipped down, wrapping itself tightly around Echo, drawing her up in the air away from Scotty.

" _No. You can't have her. Please._ " __ Scotty stood, reaching high into the air. "Please, please, don't take her." Tears dropped from his eyes, desperation clear in his cracking voice. The undulating membrane paused, let Echo drop to Scotty's begging arms and vanished, withdrawing inside the hole, the ground collapsing behind it, shattered dogs and all.

"Echo, Echo, come on, girl, wake up." Scotty held her close, tears dropping down on her face. He felt the aura before her eyes opened. His tears increased. "I love you, girl, don't you dare leave me."

"I would never leave you, Brother." Echo's face looked up at his, her expression solemn and earnest. "We are married. You accepted the diamonds. I will make sure we are always together."

Scotty hugged her, feeling her tiny body shudder in his arms. "We'd better get out of here, pronto." They cautiously peered into the shed, seeing rows and rows of healthy gleaming dogs, mostly pit bulls with a few toy size dogs, set to be used as bait. The cages were covered in dried and fresh blood.

"They're all healed already. From the Womb—it came to save us. It must have known about the evil humans and knew we would need help."

"That was the Womb?"

"Not exactly, merely a manifestation of an arm of the Womb. It came to help us from the Hive."

"The hive in Sussex? You must be kidding."

"No, Brother Scotty. I do not know of kidding. I will be happy to have you instruct me on kidding so we can do it together. Now we must go and alert the authorities before more evil men come."

"My keys, we have to get the keys for the truck." They rushed out to the disaster site, leaving the barking dogs behind them.

Six skeletons lay on the ground in disarray, the bones dry and dissected. The wheelbarrow containing the murdered dogs was turned over on its side, the carcasses gone. Scotty moved frantically through the bones, kicking them with his feet as he searched for his keys. Sweating, he looked at Echo, seeing her bend over in the dirt, then rose with his keys in her hand.

"Good girl. Let's go." Grabbing his ruined shirt, Scotty picked her up, balanced her on his hip and ran for the woods. The sounds of barking dogs faded as they arrived at the clearing, then sprinted across the field to the Jeep. Clambering in, they backed out to race home, stopping briefly at a convenience store so Scotty could give the location to the attendant, instructing him to call the cops. Running out the door, Scotty ran back down the road to where he had left Echo with the Jeep and hurried home.

Sneaking carefully into the house, they raced up to Scotty's bedroom, hoping to avoid waking anyone. It was a comfort to find Barney silently waiting behind the bedroom door, just as they left him, anxiety plain to see in his eyes.

As they all settled down in bed, Scotty sent his mind out to reach Echo. "We did good, girl. How did the Womb find us there?"

"The Womb knows all. As long as we are on earth it can find us. It can reach out as far as it needs."

"The thing, was that the Womb, that monster? Explain it to me."

"No, Brother. It was just an extension of the Womb; a Krayven. The Womb is what you call the Father. You know of it, but not all." Scotty buried himself in the bedcovers, trying to find a comfortable spot for his wings as exhaustion begged for sleep.

"Someday, will you please tell me what is going on, Echo . . .?" He yawned, his voice trailing off, deeply asleep as Echo answered Scotty's already slumbering brain.

"Why, we are here to exterminate Homo sapiens, of course." Echo rolled over, slipped her arm around Barney and easily fell asleep.

THE END
ALIEN SPECIES INTERVENTION

Book 3

ARMAGEDDON COMETH

J.K. Accinni

EK Publishing

Lakewood Ranch, FL

# Chapter 1

# 2056 AD

The pounding on Scotty's door came late in the morning.

"Scotty, get out here right now. _Scotty_!"

"Alright, alright." Going to the door, he found Abby and Jose glaring at him.

"What the _hell_ did you do?" Jose stood with his hands on his hips, rocking back on his heels, his face purple. Abby's hands held him back, but she didn't look much happier.

"What's the fuss? Hey, can you let the dogs out? I'll be down in a few minutes." He rubbed his eyes, half asleep.

"I'm not kidding, Scotty. You've got five minutes." They turned on their heels, chasing the dogs down the staircase.

Scotty hurried down the stairs, rubbing his sleepy eyes and yawning. Stealing a quick peek out the terrace doors, he could feel the day was a roaster in the making. He glanced around for Echo, seeing Abby and Jose at the kitchen table, scouring the newspaper. Jose picked up the front page, smacking it down in Scotty's direction with such force it fell to the floor. Picking it up, he scanned the headline.

_Oh, boy. How in the world did it hit the paper so fast? They must have bumped another story._ Scanning the facts, the paper reported the dogs they saved had been taken to the local shelter. Dognapping victims were being advised to stop by to examine the dogs. Human bones taken to coroner; weapons in abandoned vehicles; fighting apparatus; unexplained crime scene; copious amounts of animal blood; authorities stumped etc., etc. . .

_Yeah_ , Scotty thought as he put the paper down. _They know all the facts except who did it and why_. Not surprised, he felt no guilt. No way could either he or Echo have allowed the dogfighting to continue. It was a way of life with those ignorant hillbilly assholes. They didn't change. No second chances for them. They hadn't given the dogs any second chances. No, all they'd received was skulls bashed in with a baseball bat or sledge hammer, or being chewed to death as prey for the fighting dogs.

Tears came to his eyes as he thought about the innocence of the tragic pets stolen from their suburban lawns and loving homes, with no understanding of why they had been torn away. The kind of man who could do this to an animal was on par with a pedophile. They both preyed on the innocent for their own gratification and disposed of the evidence through merciless torture and murder. They were both predators, their predilection hardwired into their brains. The only difference was that pedophiles _knew_ what they did was wrong. The other bastards thought they had a God-given right. Well, where the hell was God when the agony and suffering went down? The scum in the woods sure wouldn't be touching another helpless dog again and he _was not sorry_.

"Where were you last night?" Jose looked steamed. Glancing at Abby for help, he knew he was on his own, her face reflected only worry.

"There's no sense denying it, Scotty, the skeletons tell the story. You can't just go around killing people. Was Echo with you?" Turning to Abby, Scotty hung his head. He felt an aura caress his mind as Echo spoke up. "Brother Scotty did not kill anyone."

Jose stood up, disappointment on his face. "Echo, please don't tell me it was you."

"It was not me, Brother Jose. But they _needed_ to die. They were very evil."

"Then who was it? How did they die?" Jose sat down, his posture seething with disbelief.

"It was the Womb."

"You saw the Womb? Come on, cut the crap."

"I did, Jose. I saw it."

Jose took a deep breath, a grenade ready to explode. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, the tempo escalating. "I can't deal with this right now. Can you please keep an eye on him? I'm not in the mood for fairy tales." Jose abruptly rose up from the table and stalked out of the room. Scotty scratched his head, ready to condemn Jose's overreaction.

"What's with him?"

"I don't know, just stress. Promise me you'll stay around the house? Stay out of trouble?"

"Yeah, I'm going back to bed if you don't mind. I have plans later with Echo and the dogs, if that's okay?" Scotty sounded contrite, looking to placate Abby. Why blow up on her anyway? He knew he could always count on his sister to be in his corner first and ask questions later.

"Don't leave the island." She put her hand on his. "You know we have to talk about this sometime."

"Yeah, just later. Please, Ab."

She patted his hand again. "Okay, go back to bed, kiddo." Abby smiled, getting up to give him a quick hug. "I understand. I know how much creatures mean to you. Don't take what Jose says to heart. He's just trying to keep us on the down low and out of the public eye. I'll calm him down. He just isn't as nutty crazy as you are about creatures, so he doesn't get it."

"Don't worry, Ab, I'll convert him, sooner or later." As Scotty left the room to head up the stairs, the entire posse, including Echo, trundled up the stairs behind him, back to bed.

# Chapter 2

Scotty slept late into the afternoon, Echo and Barney already outside. Throwing on a pair of denim cutoffs and a terry cloth shirt, he ran down the grand staircase out to the terrace, hunting for his posse.

Putting the memory of last night behind him for now, he allowed himself to get jazzed about the surprise he had planned for Echo. This was just for her. Whistling for the gang, they came running in a pack; Echo holding on tight to Barney as Penny and Mimi brought up the rear. Appearing at the front of the house, Scotty cautiously slipped Echo inside the garage, mindful of unwelcome eyes.

As everyone piled into his Jeep, he lifted a baby carriage into the back of the truck, smoothing down the opaque netting which hung down over the opening. Looking up as he closed the Jeep door, Kane shouted to him from the mouth of the garage, his muscled arms standing out in relief, the sun glazing the sweat beaded on his skin.

"What's you up to, Scotty?" His big sleepy brown eyes squinted into the cool shade of the garage.

"What are you doing here, Kane? Shouldn't you be down at the dock with your father?" Scotty was annoyed, Kane was always trying to suck up or butt in. Penny slipped out of the vehicle and pranced over to Kane where he squatted, rubbing the soft clean fur on her well-formed head.

"Na, he's having a meeting with Jose, so I have a few hours off. Thought I'd offer my services if you wanted to take your little put-put out." Kane smiled innocently.

"I think I'll pass . . . thanks anyway. Penny, let's go, girl." Hearing Penny whine, he saw Kane had taken a hard, fast grip on her. Sizing up the situation, he remembered Kane weighed about fifty pounds more than him, all solid muscle. Uneasy, he tried for a light tone.

"You mind letting go of my dog?"

"Why don't you come get her? Or are you afraid to get your pretty-boy golden curls mussed up?" Kane tensed his muscles, a hard light in his eyes. Knowing a fight was inevitable, Scotty came out from behind the vehicle, noting Echo climbing down from her seat. _Oh, no._

Before anyone could make another move, Barney bounded out of the vehicle, ran to Penny and lunged at Kane. Caught off guard, he fell flat onto his butt, sprawling on the driveway. Penny and Barney danced back to the vehicle, jumping in as Echo climbed back up to her seat where they all settled down.

With a laugh, Scotty got behind the wheel and started the Jeep. Feeling relieved, he edged out of the garage, giving a jaunty salute to Kane's enraged face, then headed down the road. _He'll calm down soon enough_ , Scotty thought, trying to reassure himself. _Too bad he's such an ass_. His life left no time or room for a boat bum like Kane. They shared nothing in common.

Putting Kane out of his mind, he looked forward to the rest of the day. Several weeks ago, Scotty, Echo and Barney had by chance discovered a path from the main road around the island to the water. They had seen a tiny strip of sand that wound unimpeded down a stretch of beach. It begged them to explore. But how to do it without outing Echo in public? Simple solution: _a baby carriage._ Not an ordinary carriage, of course. Forced to take Peter into his confidence in order to obtain the carriage, he had altered the wheels for the beach. They needed to be wider to ride above the sand instead of sinking in. So Peter, the professional that he was, obtained just what he required without asking intrusive questions. What harm could he come to with a baby carriage, anyway?

The unyielding midday sun enshrouded them with its relentless swelter. Scotty slipped on his sunglasses, removed the doctored carriage from the Jeep, and placed a jug of water for the dogs in the storage compartment. Lifting the opaque netting, he boosted Echo into the carriage, pinning the netting to the top so Echo could see out.

"What do you think, girl? Do you like it? It's all yours."

"Is this an automobile, Brother Scotty? An automobile for _me_?" The aura in Scotty's mind swirled with golden fractals, almost blinding him.

"Yes, it's a very old style car, with no engine. It must be pushed and I'm happy to do it. Now we can play on the beach, as long as we're alone." Echo ran her fragile leather hands over the inside lining of the carriage.

"And what is the name of this automobile? Is it Jeep like yours?"

"Nope, a different manufacturer. It's called a Carriage. Modified. Just for you."

"Just for me . . ." The mind aura did not ask a question, it sounded more like a statement of wonder. "I need you in my heart, Brother Scotty." Echo reached out to Scotty. He picked her up, swinging her around in his arms as the dogs danced at his heels.

"Don't worry, Echo, I need you in my heart too." Laughing, he deposited her back in the carriage. Mimi stood on her hind legs, straining to see inside.

"You don't want to miss a thing, do you girl?" Lifting Mimi, Scotty deposited her in the carriage with Echo.

"Brother Scotty, I want My Barney to ride too."

"No, Echo, that boy's just too big. Mimi is perfect. She's too little for the sand and she's your camouflage in case someone comes poking around. You just remember to dive under the covers and pull down the netting. No one will be the wiser."

The whole gang headed for the sand, Scotty pushing the carriage over the scrub weeds until they reached the tiny beach. They were alone except for the closest mansion about five hundred feet away. They were within distant eyeshot of the mansion's deep-water dock, containing two yachts, one a monster for sure. Scotty doubted anyone glancing their way would be able to tell what kind of dogs played on the beach, let alone how many. If approached, he would scoop up Echo and deposit her in the carriage. Little Mimi would languish there, ostensibly recovering from an injury. The ruse gave all of them a small, precious sense of freedom.

Penny loved jumping in the air after the gulls, never getting close, but convinced she was keeping them all safe from the noisy wheeling birds. Mimi watched, glassy eyed and complacent, from the carriage as Echo and Scotty chased Barney around the edge of the water, jumping and playing games of doggy tag. Echo loved being _it_ , riding on Barney's back as they chased down Penny and Scotty. Scotty kept his eye on them all, laughing at their antics or tossing a blue rubber ball for them to scramble after.

From out of nowhere, a high-pitched scream came from the direction of the mansion with the yachts, followed by the sight of a miniature chocolate furry bullet streaming toward them on the beach. The bullet was being chased by a young girl yelling frantically for it to stop. How a tiny ball of curly brown fur could keep up that pace in the hot sun was unbelievable. It danced like a ping pong ball, bouncing from one dog to another to Scotty to Echo, where it stopped, panting and staring, its dinky brown paws flush on the sand, its body prone like a sphinx. Scotty scooped up Echo, deposited her in the carriage with Mimi, then grabbed the water canister as the furry bullet's pretty mistress flopped down on the sand next to it.

Scotty poured some water for their furry guest. He sat on the sand, joined by Barney and Penny.

"Thanks for the water, Ted gets carried away sometimes. He loves to show off for people. I'm Chloe. You a dog sitter? They can't possibly all be yours."

"Yeah, they're all mine. What kind of shrimpy mutt is Ted?"

"He's a Shih Tzu/teacup poodle. He's six pounds with a one-hundred-pound personality. Pure alpha. Teddy, come here." Chloe hung her head, shaking it sorrowfully as she watched Teddy climb up Penny's back as she lay in the sand. He was so tiny, fifty-five pound Penny seemed unaware that he was there as he made his way up to her ear, which he straddled and proceeded to mate with.

"I'm Scotty Preston," he said, watching the spectacle in front of him. "We live over on Mango Lane. You live there?" Pointing to the mansion with the deep-water dock, Scotty saw her nod.

"What's in the carriage? You got a kid here?" Getting up, Chloe turned to the carriage. Scotty beat her to it, adjusting the netting.

"No, that's just Mimi, she's a Shih Tzu too, a puppy mill rescue. She can't walk right now. She's recovering from a spinal operation. This helps me get her outside so she can be with us."

Chloe looked in. "Let me see. Oh, she looks like a little skunk. That's so sweet of you."

Scotty grabbed the handle of the carriage and prepared to run. Chloe sat back down on the sand. He relaxed and joined her, appraising her athletic build.

"You must be hot. Isn't that terry cloth? It's okay if you want to take off your shirt."

"No, I'm good."

Chloe and Scotty talked for another hour or so. Scotty felt comfortable with her, common ground easy to find. He sensed a loneliness in her which felt familiar. She was the first teenager other than Kane who he had spoken to in almost a year.

Even though at fifteen she was two years younger than him—although she had mentioned she had a birthday coming up soon—he felt comfortable enough to swap cell numbers, noticing she sure wasn't hard to look at. He wished he could be smoother with the ladies, but he needed a lot of practice before he could set his childhood complexes aside.

"Maybe you can come visit me at my house. We have monkeys, what do you think of that? They don't belong to me, they belong to my uncle. He looks after me when my dad's away. My mom's dead," she said, wiping an unexpected stray tear. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, Chloe, I get it. It's okay. My mom died too, about a year ago. My sister and I still aren't normal yet either. That'd be cool if I could see your uncle's monkeys," he said, changing the subject.

Chloe turned away, shading her eyes as she stared past Scotty down the beach. Barney struggled to his feet, running off in the same direction.

"We've got company. Your dog seems happy to see him." Barney was doing his best to lick the hair off Jose's legs.

"That's my sister's boyfriend. He's my best friend too."

Jose reached the group, his eyes searching cautiously in acknowledgment of Scotty's company.

"Where's Echo?" Jose sounded worried. Chloe looked at the dogs.

"Did I miss one?"

"No, Echo's in the carriage with Mimi. She's just a cat we have," Scotty said quickly, jumping up and introducing them, pointing to Chloe's house down the beach.

"I think that little guy belongs to you, young lady?" Teddy was blissfully ignoring everyone, going to town on Penny's ear again.

Getting up out of the sand, Chloe laughed as she detached Teddy from the springer's ear, said goodbye, then headed down the beach to her house. She turned once, giving them all a wave. Jose knelt in the sand, removed his sunglasses and stroked Penny's coppery fur.

"Chloe seems like a nice girl. This the first time you met her?"

"Yeah, we just needed to get away from the house for a while. Don't worry, we were careful. Chloe invited me to her house. I'd like to go. She says her uncle lives there with a collection of monkeys. That'd be cool."

"Yeah, monkeys are cool. I knew a few when I was little, a long time ago." Jose's face took on a distant haunted look, his eyes unreadable. Scotty thought to ask him about it when, just as fast as they had clouded, his eyes cleared. Maybe he had imagined it. Jose's eyes now glowed so golden they were hard to read, anyway.

"Wouldn't mind seeing them myself. Just let me know when you leave the grounds next time." Going to the carriage, he lifted the netting. Two heads popped up.

"Hello, Brother Jose, Look at my new automobile." Echo's colorful aura swirled languidly.

"Your new automobile?"

"Yes, it is a Carriage, modified just for me. I am sorry I cannot give you a ride, but you have your own car. Mine is a gift from Brother Scotty."

"Yeah, real nice, Echo. That Scotty is just full of surprises. Okay, let's saddle up, guys. I need to have a word with Scotty, and you'd better get home now." As they walked back to their cars, Jose told Scotty about his impending trip to New Jersey.

"That's great," Scotty said, realizing Jose had decided to drop the issue of last night's rescue. He must be pretty occupied with the search for his family. They all missed Mama Diaz, being the only adult maternal presence left in their lives. And he missed Emma and Bonnie. They wouldn't care how funny he looked. If Jose located the rest of the family and they joined them in Sarasota, his life would be much more normal. Things were starting to look up. His thoughts drifted back to Chloe. _Yeah_ , he smiled to himself, _things are definitely looking up._

"Let's head back to the house. I'd like us to spend some time together with Abby before Peter takes me to the airport."

"Okay, I'll meet you back there." Jose walked off after making sure everyone was secure; Scotty followed in the baking afternoon sun.

*

Scotty sat at the kitchen table with Abby, trying to talk to her about meeting Chloe. Jose stood at the kitchen sink, listening to him chatter on. Abby sat in her ornamental pig-iron antique kitchen chair, oblivious to it all. She was staring at Echo who, for some unfathomable reason, sat plucking white hairs out of Barney's fur and holding them up to the sun. She guarded a small plastic jar sitting on the floor where she deposited the hairs. _Well_ , thought Abby, _at least Echo's found something to occupy herself with._ Her attention turned moodily to Jose and Scotty, who were both staring at her.

"What?" They both started in on her at the same time.

"What are you guys yelling at me about? For Pete's sake." She lifted her heavy hair off her neck, radiating impatience and boredom. She stood up suddenly, her chair scraping noisily on the marble kitchen floor. The dogs startled out of their placid late-afternoon snooze, heads swiveling in unison to face Abby.

"Gee, doesn't anyone have anything to do except whine at me all the time?"

"Babe, we weren't whining at you at all, we were just—"

"Oh, so now I'm wrong about my own feelings?" She marched over to a cabinet, took down a glass and slammed it on the counter, inadvertently breaking it. Penny immediately got up to sniff the glass that had fallen on the floor.

"Watch out, Penny. Abby, the dogs are going to get hurt now." Scotty got up to clean the mess.

"So now I'm hurting the dogs? Really?"

Scotty started to open his mouth. Catching Jose's eye, he stayed silent.

"Come on, Ab." Jose moved to put his arms around her.

"Don't. I'm not in the mood." Shrugging him off, she pulled out another glass and let the cold water run, the sound calming her down. Filling her glass, she mumbled, "I'm sorry," then stalked out to the terrace where she remained for the rest of the evening, not even getting up to say goodbye to Jose as he left for the airport.

She hoped she could snap out of her malaise by the time Mama Diaz returned with the girls. Glancing down toward the dock, she saw Captain Cobby sitting alone, watching the sunset. She had been meaning to find the time to chat with him about the tension between Kane and Scotty. Scotty had filled her in on the incident in the garage, and she hadn't liked the sound of what could have been a disaster if Scotty's secret had been exposed in the middle of a fight.

Slipping on her sunglasses, she adjusted her clothing, making sure everything remained properly concealed, then headed down to the dock.

Walking the short plank, she stuck her head in before going on deck.

"Permission to come aboard?"

Captain Cobby hurried to lend a hand, leaving his drink on the cocktail table near the captain's chair at the wheel.

"Ms. Abby, you know you don't ever need permission. The _Lucky Lady_ belongs to you."

"I know, Captain, but I do like to observe the niceties where I can. I hope I'm not interrupting your evening."

"No, no, please join me." He led her over to the cocktail area where plush green and white striped outdoor chairs were strewn about. The area could hardly be called intimate as it appeared spacious enough to hold a reception for a hundred people.

Sitting down, she held up an empty Baccarat crystal glass, plucked off the outdoor sideboard. The captain hastened to fill it for her. She held the crystal, twirling it in the waning late afternoon sun, absently noting the similarity to Echo's antlers.

There had been a time when they had counted themselves lucky to have plastic glasses, and if colored all the better. The colored ones hid the scratches which collected on the cheap plastic. She shook her head imperceptibly as she waited for her wine to breathe, reflecting on the grandeur and glamour of the new life which had just been handed to them. Was she dreaming? Just the mere fact that she even knew red wine must breathe, startled her. Nothing about her new life felt real.

"Hope a Pinot Noir is okay."

Nodding, Abby took a sip, eyeing him over her glass. Captain Cobby struck a rather handsome appearance, in an exciting, older, virile Italian kind of way. _It must be the thick, dark, curly hair_ , she thought, forgetting that Jose used to have thick, dark, curly hair. They sat together, neither speaking, letting the lapping of gentle waves against the hull weave a calm and intimate ambience around them. Breaking their companionable silence, she asked, "Is Kane around tonight?"

"I'm disappointed. I hoped you were here to visit _me_." Laughing, he gave her a quick wink.

"I _am_ here to see you, Captain, I just didn't want our conversation overheard."

Leaning back in his chair, he nodded his head slowly, rubbing his strong weather-beaten hand across his closely cropped beard. He gently set down his wine glass, crossed his tanned arms and looked at her without a trace of humor.

"Is this about my son?"

Taken aback by his quick change of tone, Abby decided to tread softly. "Yes, Captain. I just hoped you and I can do something to bring the boys together, before any blood flies."

Relaxing a bit, the captain adopted a low confidential tone. "Kane has not had an easy go of it in life, Abby. His mother kept me from seeing him, then took off for God knows where. He lived with the notion I was dead. I did my best to find them, but my job on the water was not conducive to raising a child. I gave up pretty easily. When he turned ten, she suddenly showed up to dump the boy with me. You can imagine how it went from there. It's taken me a long time to get Kane to this point. He has a chip on his shoulder because he feels he wasn't wanted. He knows differently, now. But he'll always be that ten-year-old boy who was dumped with a stranger because his mother didn't want him anymore; a mother who betrayed him with a lie for ten years. We've not heard from her since."

Smiling gently, the captain looked deeply into her eyes. "Can I dare to ask you to cut him some slack and let the boys work it out themselves? I promise I'll guide him as much as I can without interfering."

Nodding, Abby stood up, extending her hands to clasp both of his. "I understand, Captain Cobby. I truly do. Scotty's upbringing was not that different from Kane's. Maybe if they each knew that, things would be easier for them. I'll leave the matter with you, after I have a talk with Scotty. Thank you for your time." With that, she released his hands, smiling as he tipped his glass to her in agreement.

Before leaving, Abby filled in a few details of Scotty's loveless relationship with his father and their parents' subsequent divorce. Comfortable with their understanding, Abby allowed the captain to give her a hand across the plank to the dock. With a grateful smile and wave, she walked back to the house, the moon guiding her path. She marveled at how everyone seemed to have a story of strife and pain. She wasn't the only one. Feeling refreshed, she began to look forward to Jose's return with Mama Diaz and the girls.

That night, Abby's restlessness fought against her desire to sleep. She opened her eyes, noticing it was past midnight. The moon made her uneasy, a quiet crescent gazing into her bedroom window like a peeping Tom hoping to catch her unaware. The shadows of the palm trees, backlit and morphing the yard into an eerie vista of lurking creatures, unnerved her.

Why couldn't she settle down? Her glance lingered on Jose's empty spot in the bed. She leaned over, breathing in the familiar musky smell of his fur, finding it reassuring. Rolling back to her side of the bed, she wrapped her hands around the cool cotton sheet, drawing it under her chin as she scrunched herself into a fetal position, her mind flashing a kaleidoscope of memories, hoping to latch onto a soothing one to lull her to sleep. Feeling her budding wings cramp underneath her, she gave up.

Rising, she shambled over to the windows, her sleeplessness leaving her feeling drugged and lethargic. Rubbing her temples and shaking out her wings, she flexed her tail. _Perhaps my sleeplessness has something to do with my mind's unconscious attempt to avoid reliving the recurring nightmare I've been having for weeks?_ The memory of the nightmare sent shivers down her evolving backside, causing her tail to stir reflexively.

Without warning, she found herself reviewing the nightmare as she stood at the window fully awake. She observed herself standing in a deserted parking lot in front of an iron grill, bent and misshapen; the stanchions under which millions of children and adults passed in their quest to discover where the famous Bronx Zoo had once housed their favorite wild creatures. The stanchions no longer supported its proud sign. She scanned the soundless trees, denuded of life. They appeared as if they'd been flattened by a giant fist, pummeling them from the gray and wintry sky. She looked off to the blank horizon: the most famous skyline in the world—gone. Devastation. She felt the bitter cold seep through her golden fur, flakes of dirty brown snow slowly, soundlessly, covering her thick golden hair, even as she somehow knew it was the middle of summer.

She turned back to the ruined zoo, an irresistible compulsion. Without warning, she discovered herself floating over the crumbling exhibits on the zoo's decimated grounds. Formerly home to the many innocent creatures which had found themselves captive to man's misguided attempt to shape, control and destroy the lives of creatures he, in his hubris, thought belonged to him. The vacant exhibits all contained ominous piles of bleached bone ash. All that remained of some of the most exquisite, bio-diverse and marvelous creations ever granted the rights to this planet by their maker. And again . . . brutally and ignobly destroyed by man.

She could feel glacial tears freezing on her cheeks as her emotions remained oddly anesthetized. Finding herself descending to an exhibit, she read the signage proclaiming it to be the home of the magnificent Western Lowland Gorilla. The bitter irony was not lost on her, realizing their home _never_ existed here. Sadly, home called from the vanished jungles and watery bais of Western Africa. These sentient gentle great apes were mothers and fathers, babies and youngsters: families. Just like Homo sapiens, for man was a great ape too. But better, of course. Man . . . the chosen one . . . he who shall inherit the Earth. And once again, she noted frightfully to herself, man destroyed.

Her eyes glazed as she noted the complete absence of color, life or warmth around her. The horizon was a palette of black and gray barrenness, benumbing ashen hopelessness and bone-crushing godforsaken loneliness. What had happened here? Such wanton destruction.

Abby struggled, a sudden crush of emotions coalescing, too much to bear. Trying to break the grip of the tableau, she panicked; instinctively calling for her mother, _begging_ for her mother. Out of her mind with grief and loss, she confused the emotions in her nightmare with the unresolved heartbreak of her mother's abrupt absence from her life. Here the nightmare always ended, leaving Abby a helpless wreck.

Without warning, Abby felt pulled away from the zoo. She beheld herself in a new and foreign environment, appearing to be a large cavern. Light shone, but the source eluded her. She felt neither warm nor cold. An enveloping layer of something soft and undulating, exuding a smell of organic dampness which clung to the walls of the cavern. How could she smell if she were dreaming?

Further down the cavern, a golden glow approached: a figure. Abby caught her breath, an unexplained premonition sending goosebumps down her arms. The emerging figure formed into that of a woman.

The alluring vision glowed with the fine golden fur draping her body. Like Abby, she sported a long mature tail with a bulbous end floating languidly around her. Her golden-white hair reached, full and glossy, down her back. A pair of exquisite wings framed her statuesque figure. From her hairline, two graceful crystal horns emerged, swirling with silver and gold liquid. Her eyes sparkled with the colors of the rainbow. She smiled benevolently at Abby. With a start, Abby realized she looked familiar. She racked her memory, but could not place the lovely face.

"My dear, we have not met. You are here because you have much to do. We are relying on you. You must save those you can. Time is short. We had hoped to do things differently. Man has conspired, fatally, to abort our plans. We must react quickly. Gather the materials you need and do the best you can."

"Madam, how am I to know what to do?"

Approaching Abby, the woman placed her hand on Abby's shoulder as her right horn split and peeled back, releasing a drop of liquid, its color flashing and filling the cavern. The woman held out her other hand to receive the drop. Reaching up to Abby's ear she placed it inside.

Disappearing, the flashing colors slowly faded as the drop moved deep into her ear. Abby's eyes closed slowly. She blinked, her eyes closing again. They finally opened with a stoic acceptance of realized purpose and clarity.

"I understand completely. I hope to see you again soon," Abby said. Taking Abby into her arms, the woman embraced her warmly.

"You will, my dear. Remember, you have Echo to aid you. I must send you back now."

"Wait. Please, who are you? What shall I call you?" The vision began to recede. She found herself in her own bed, on the verge of waking. From a great distance, she heard the woman's voice. "I was once known as Netty Doyle, my dear. You may call me Netty."

Abby gently drifted into a deep sound slumber, the details of her dream dissipating. She slept soundly.

# Chapter 3

Peter pulled his BMW away from the parking lot at Sarasota Airport. He waved to Jose, who stood in line for the security bus to the check-in counter. He was anxious to board a flight to Newark which would hopefully reunite him with what was left of his family.

Peter's happiness for Scotty and Abby knew no bounds. He appreciated how long it had taken them to get this far. As he drove back into town, he observed the night life in Sarasota preparing to heat up as the party hour approached, crowds thickening on the streets. Peter had sampled very little of it, even though the venues of bars and eateries were made to order for a single man.

Some of the most predatory and beautiful women in the country flocked to Sarasota, hoping to land themselves a wealthy husband. Those were the odds any self-respecting singleton would celebrate. Even though he could now call himself well off by most standards, he normally found himself reticent to join the nightly festivities of the crazy rich in this town, and which served as a bizarre escape from the reality of the rest of the country.

But tonight he wanted to flex his muscles. Perhaps his buoyant mood, inherited from Jose's infectious happiness, portended a good omen. Taking a very deep breath, he decided: Tonight would be the night. He felt jazzed up and ready to go fishing for the ladies.

Driving down Main Street proved difficult. Traffic congestion continually hindered his efforts to find a parking place. By the time he found one, discouragement settled in, robbing him of his ebullient mood, which leaked out like a punctured tire. His reluctance to enter any of the most boisterous bars overwhelmed him. Forcing himself to suck it up, he timidly selected one which appeared more discreet and subdued.

As he entered the bar, he relaxed. The atmosphere appeared quiet and non-threatening, although clearly not the place most partiers wanted to be seen in. Definitely down scale. Oh well, it would do fine as a start for him. Scanning the bar, he noticed an empty stool between two other patrons. He started forward, but the stool was quickly taken by another man. As he stood in indecision, he noticed a couple of patrons giving him a quick once over, especially the woman. As his courage began to evaporate, one of the patrons stood up. A short dumpy man, he motioned toward him, offering his seat. Well, that was sure kind. Peter turned to thank him, but the man ducked his face down, hurrying out the door before Peter could even open his mouth.

Getting comfortable on the bar stool, he ordered a glass of wine, then glanced at his reflection in the back bar mirror. His face looked even wider and more owlish than usual. But the mirror failed to hide the quiet, clean-cut, timid man who was finally tired of being alone.

He sat, sulking about his lonely life, and ordered another glass of wine. _A little liquid courage can't hurt_. As people were coming and going, he sat stiffly on his bar stool, unsure what to do next. Feeling discouraged, he felt a bump on the right side of his stool. A patron, the woman who had been staring at him, rose from her own stool, getting ready to leave. She suddenly dropped her purse. Attempting to assist as she bent to retrieve it, they banged heads.

"Ow."

"Ouch." Peter rubbed his head, looking up into the eyes of a pretty blond woman, seemingly a few years older than him. Her nose scrunched up as she laughed heartily at her own clumsiness.

"I'm sorry, that's so typical of me. I'm rather clumsy. Are you okay?" She extended her hand to grip his arm, rubbing softly to reassure him, an intimate gesture. Touched, Peter hastened to assure her of his recovery.

"May I insist you allow me to buy you a cocktail? Just so I can assure myself you're fine?"

Her smile was so lovely, her manner so charming, that he found himself instantly enticed. _A pretty woman wants to buy me a drink. How do you like that?_

When you least expect it, something special comes your way. Looking into her relaxed and friendly face, he felt no qualms about spending time with her. All traces of nervousness disappeared. He began to relax and enjoy himself.

As the evening wore on, they discovered they had much in common. they were both from small towns, both professionals. When she found out he was an attorney, she could not resist inquiring into his intent to sue her for the knot on his noggin. She made him laugh, something unfamiliar to him.

Peter shyly suggested they have dinner together. He wanted to do anything he could to prolong their time together. He just loved how her blond curls shook as she laughed at his lame jokes. _What a doll_ , he thought, enjoying how the glow of the bar lights made her eyes sparkle.

They strolled down the street just like all the other happy couples, selecting a nice restaurant, then sharing savory lobster and excellent champagne, frugality forgotten. Her hand lingered on his as she made an occasional point. Peter found himself grinning and laughing so hard the muscles in his face ached.

Finally, they realized the night must end. Suggesting she walk him to his car, she pointed out the high-rise she lived in, within easy walking distance of the restaurant. After arriving at his BMW, he inquired as to whether he could call her for dinner again. Reaching into her purse, she scribbled her cell number, clearly pleased to be asked. Placing the note in his hand, she leaned over slowly, looked into his eyes and placed her lips over his for the softest kiss he swore he would ever feel.

"Goodnight, Peter. This was wonderful. I look forward to hearing from you very soon." Turning, she disappeared into the crowd on the sidewalk.

In a daze, he drove back to Bird Key. Pulling into his driveway, he remained in the car, reliving and savoring the evening. He glowed. _Could she be any more perfect_? Looking down, he stroked the note she had given him, admiring her handwriting. Ginger Mae Shrute 914-555-0436. _How cool is that?_ And off he went to bed, sleeping better than he had in years.

*

Ginger Mae walked quickly to the high-rise, not wanting Armoni to wait any longer than necessary. She knew he would be chewing his nails and spitting in anger because he had almost been caught when he had seen Peter walk into the bar, forcing him to make a hasty exit. They could not afford to have Peter recognize Armoni, even though they had only met briefly, months ago. Armoni knew he made an indelible impression on people.

She shook her head, amazed at the irony of the situation. Dining in elegant expensive bars and restaurants every night for months, trying to get a lead on Armoni's enemies could easily have become a drag. But how else could they hope to run into them? Sooner or later, they would show up to eat. Their excellent plan to track them back to their house where Armoni could then reclaim his property had failed to produce results. Not so excellent after all. They hadn't counted on the one night that they had decided to go to a normal, relaxed watering hole, this sudden opportunity would drop right into their laps. Armoni would be very pleased with her results.

She sighed, watching laughing couples pass her on the sidewalk, arm in arm, enjoying each other's company, just as she had enjoyed Peter's. She felt a longing for the unfamiliar life of an upstanding citizen. _Wow, where did that come from? Have I gotten in over my head this time?_

Her big plans for Armoni were slowly turning to ash. Sure, he had taken them to Florida, paying for everything, but he never let her out of his sight. That was not what she'd had in mind. And she could only handle his disgusting habits in small doses. She expected him to set her up in her own place, seeing her when he had the urge (she could handle that) and then get back to his life. But, it appeared, he had no life. As a matter of fact, he seemed to want to turn _her_ into his life. _Ugh. Not going to happen._ She hoped that if she helped him recover his property, she could say goodbye and strike out on her own. The wealth and opportunity in Sarasota made her head spin. From the kind of men she met in the bars and clubs, she could clearly see that she and Daisy would be well able to fend on their own, without the odorous Armoni.

But she must be clever. She had come to the conclusion that Armoni kept mysterious secrets to himself. She began to suspect the veracity of his stolen property story.

And then there were his hygiene issues. A godly problem. He must have grown up with wolves. How a man could ignore simple baths, deodorant and oral care blew her mind. She had finally reached the point where she could no longer eat around him for fear of vomiting. So she just drank instead.

Fortunately, his appetite for sex had slowly mellowed. _That was bound to happen as his attention is so focused on getting his property back, thank the Lord_. And she had to consider Daisy's welfare. This was not a good environment for her. Ginger Mae regretted exposing her to Armoni, something she had always refused to do with her johns. This must end, and as soon as possible.

That's why she had said yes to dinner with Peter. She had hoped he would ask for her phone number and then a date. She could find out where he lived and where his clients lived. That should satisfy Armoni. Given enough time, she confidently planned to obtain the information Armoni constantly gnashed his teeth over. Then she would be done with this. She and Daisy would dump this smelly piece of garbage and strike out on their own.

Ginger Mae remembered the trailer trash, horse-faced, fat, little blonde in the gym at the high-rise who had happily bragged about how she had left her loser husband after she had met a wealthy guy on a website for dating millionaires. Within three weeks, she had moved into the millionaire's house. They'd been married within six months. He wasn't exactly a looker, but then, neither was she. But they were happy. What else did they need? At this point, Ginger desperately needed to grab at any straw if it aided her plan to get away from Armoni.

She had started to wonder where his money came from. It wasn't like he possessed any education or skills. Her curiosity about the people who had stolen his property increased. Now, knowing Armoni as she did, she began to have sneaking doubts about his story. After meeting Peter, she didn't think he would, in good conscience, represent thieves. But she was _damn sure_ Armoni would steal bones from a puppy. Getting sucked into a crime as an accessory was nowhere on her list.

Her tired eyes flashed lightning bolts as she approached the high-rise. Looking up, she searched in vain for the seventeenth floor where they were residing. She swallowed her dread and went in to face the music.

# Chapter 4

Scotty woke to find Echo's face three inches from his own, her rainbow eyes flashing spurts of gold light. _That usually means something's up_ , Scotty thought. Echo held up an old fanny pack Scotty had forgotten about at least a hundred years ago.

"Where did you find that, girl?"

Echo bounced back on Scotty's stomach, getting a loud groan and a shove to the floor for her efforts. Popping back up like a yoyo, she sent her aura to Scotty. "Brother, may I have this, please, Brother? It is just what I need. I found it on the floor of your closet, under a pile of clothes, tied into a knot, covered in soil, I mean dirt, and enclosed in a tiny cardboard box that had been previously used to store blank pieces of paper that you like to use to draw pictures of animals on, until you got a new drawing device that you stick into the wall to draw with . . ."

"Okay, okay. Hush, Echo, I just woke up, give me a minute." Rolling over in bed, he glared at Echo, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He should have known better than to ask Echo a stupid question like that. Her habit of being excessively informative and literal sometimes drove him nuts.

"Why don't you put it on, girl?" He reached out to hook it around her tiny waist. After a few adjustments, wrapping the nylon strap round and round her belly, the turquoise and gray fanny pack fit, making his somewhat scary, cuddly little buddy look like a hip, somewhat scary, cuddly, little buddy.

"What do you need a fanny pack for?"

"It is just perfect." Scrambling off Scotty's bed, Echo ran to the corner of the room where she fumbled around, returning to the bed and climbing up to sit on Scotty's stomach again.

"These are for my treasures." Echo held out her delicate leather hand revealing the plastic jar she was using to hold the hairs she had quietly plucked out of Barney last night. She shook the jar, holding it up to the light so Scotty could see the hairs.

"This is My Barney." Slipping the jar into the fanny pack, she gently gave it a pat. "My Barney will now have immortality. He will not be an Elder, but I can grow him if he dies."

Scotty's eyes bugged out. "You can _grow_ him? What do you mean by that? _Immortality_? Elders have immortality? Didn't you tell us we would be Elders?"

But Echo had slipped off the bed, tired of the questions. Shuffling across the room, she threw her aura back to Scotty. "I will go find Mimi. I would like to harvest her hair, also. I am becoming quite fond of that little girl." And she was gone, leaving Scotty alone wondering if he should say anything about this to anyone. Abby would probably freak. Better keep his mouth closed for now.

A pounding on his bedroom door drew his attention. Abby poked her head in, her hair braided into pigtails.

"You up?"

"Yeah, come on in." Moving over to make room for her on his messy bed, he asked, "What's up?"

"I want you to do something for me. Feel up to a little adventure?"

Yanking on her pigtails, he nodded. "What's up with the new do, Sis?"

"It's part of my plan. Just trying it out. I want us to go into Sarasota tomorrow. I need to look low-key, don't want to draw attention to my hair. We're going to a place called the Big Cat Sanctuary. It's run by a fifth- or sixth-generation circus family. Good people. This trip is just to look around. We need to see how many animals are there. There are plans for those animals. We need to move them."

"Are you kidding me? We'd better wait until Jose returns. I don't think he'll be too keen on us going into town, Abby. He's mad enough as it is. I'd love to see the cats and all, but why do we need to move them? And how in the world do we accomplish that?"

"Fear not, little Brother. I have a plan. This is for their own good. I'll make sure the animals are handled safely. The time is getting near." Echo had quietly returned, her eyes shooting golden sparks again.

"What am I missing? Are you both in on something I don't know about? What do you mean, time is getting near?"

Abby took his face between her hands, staring intently into his golden eyes. Scotty had a premonition which told him he did not want to know any more than he already did.

"Scotty, just trust me. We're just going to take a look. Echo, it's too risky to bring you with us on this trip."

"I can transport in my automobile, Sister Abby. I have a Carriage now." Abby frowned at Scotty, her brow furrowed in question. "I won't ask."

Turning to Echo, she added, "We'll need you for the next one, Echo. I have to get everything ready first. Tonight I'm having a meeting with Peter. I'm instructing him to make arrangements to transport the animals from the port in Tampa to Newark Airport. They'll be picked up and transported to join with another convoy. We have plans for them all." Looking to Echo, the creature slowly nodded.

"How are we going to get them to Tampa? I don't doubt that Echo will make a miracle happen, but I still don't see why or how we're going to do this." It was clear to Scotty he was not going to get any more information so he tried something new. "Since we're just going to look, can I invite a guest?"

"Scotty, don't you think this trip is risky enough? Who do you want to invite?"

"Chloe. I told you about her yesterday, remember?" Abby tilted her head as if she was listening. Raising her hand, she pulled on her ear, rapidly shaking her head. Then, surprisingly, she said yes.

"But I have one condition. You must also invite Kane Cobby."

Scotty felt like a grenade ready to explode. This would count as his first date with Chloe. The possibility that he would get stuck with Kane irritated the heck out of him. He refused to do it.

"We'll leave at noon tomorrow. Make sure they're both here or I'll have to leave without you."

"But, Abby, why all the mystery? And why Kane?" Scotty tried to curb the whine in his voice.

Ignoring the question, Abby rose and left the room, Echo scampering right behind her. _That's odd. When it comes to me, Echo clings to me like an ugly babe refusing to give up her first boyfriend. So why the sudden interest in what Abby's planning to do?_

But, like most boys his age, his attention span flitted from one topic to another, easily diverted, as he grew psyched over the idea of going off the island again. Jumping into the shower to wash his fur, he wondered what he would wear to show up at Chloe's house. He knew he had better look good if they were going to let her go with them. It nagged at him that Abby had said yes so easily. It wasn't like her to let him run this risk. _Maybe Peter will talk some sense into her about her crazy plan._

*

Later that morning, Scotty pulled up to the front gate of the mansion belonging to Chloe's family. A casually dressed guard in khakis and white polo shirt came to the gate after exiting a small guardhouse which matched the color of the mansion. He could see into the grounds, noting the numerous expensive vehicles parked loosely around the circular driveway. A gargantuan bronze sculpture of the ubiquitous jumping dolphins rose from a courtyard fountain.

"Hey, kid, what do you want here?" The guard was casually dismissive, probably thinking Scotty was lost. Scotty adjusted his sunglasses on his nose, feeling the late morning sun start to heat up across the back of his neck. He approached the guard.

"My name is Scotty Preston. I live on Mango Lane, on the other side of the key. I'm here to see Chloe, if she's home?" The guard said nothing, studying him thoughtfully; his eyes difficult to read through the shades he wore. Backing away from the gate, the guard returned to his shelter to use a phone, presumably to call the main house. Within two minutes, the front door opened and a five-foot whirling dervish ran toward the gate letting the front door slam thunderously behind her.

"Scotty, hi," she panted, arriving breathlessly at the gate. "Hey, can you please open this darn thing?" Stepping back, she motioned to the guard. Scotty decided to leave his Jeep parked on the side of the road and joined Chloe in walking to the house. "Did you come over to see the monkeys?"

"I'd love to see the monkeys, but I came to invite you to go to the Big Cat Sanctuary in town. We'll be leaving at noon tomorrow. I can pick you up around eleven if it's okay?" Scotty sounded wistfully earnest.

"Gee, I don't know. I'm not usually allowed to go off the island without an escort, one of the men or sometimes Mrs. Elbarad. My old nanny. If I can't go alone, would you mind if I asked her? Come on." Chloe ushered him toward the front door. "You can see the monkeys while I ask."

Scotty stepped into the cool air-conditioned foyer. He gaped at the marble floor, inset with a pastel mosaic of roses, ribbons and birds. The center of the huge foyer contained a walnut table on which lay a gilt-edged guest book. Chloe stood near the book, waving him forward, a pen in her hand.

"Hope you don't mind. It's my father's house rule. Everyone must sign in." Scotty carefully wrote his name and address on the heavy cream paper, setting the elegant Mont Blanc pen back in its holder. Looking around, he saw a double mahogany circular staircase which lost itself somewhere on the second floor. Under each elevated section of staircase he could peer into other lavish rooms. Chloe led the way through a resplendent room, dominated by a huge hand-carved stone fireplace and French doors leading to an elegant terrace overlooking an Olympic-sized pool with an unparalleled view of a luxury yacht and the Sarasota Bay glinting serenely around it.

"Come this way." Chloe motioned for him to follow her through an antechamber which opened to a small conservatory strewn with tropical plants, comfortable yellow wicker and an assortment of hand-crafted metal cages. Scotty could smell the musky organic scent of the monkeys before he saw them. He approached them slowly, not wanting to startle them. Chloe came up beside him, holding some grapes in her hand. "Here, they love these."

Scotty slowly moved from cage to cage feeding the monkeys, murmuring softly to them in delight. The monkeys moved slowly and calmly, the signs of age clear on the fur of their faces.

"How old are they?"

"I don't know. They've always been here, since I was born, and I'm almost fifteen. They can live in captivity for twenty five, thirty years. They belong to my uncle. He got them somewhere in Central America. He's around here some place. He works with my father most of the time. I hope you don't mind, he'll have to meet you since my father's not here. It's such a drag," she said, frowning. "Let me see if I can round him up, I'll be right back."

Scotty continued to observe the monkeys, remembering from rudimentary science classes the common belief that the human race somehow descended from monkeys. Well, not actual monkeys. Great apes. Humans were categorized as great apes. It was said that 96-98 percent of human DNA matched that of chimpanzees. But there was still the great story of the missing link. Many primates were thought to be our cousins, but science still could not find the direct link on the tree of evolution from which humans descended. One of science's enduring enigmas.

"Well, young man, it is my pleasure to meet you." Jumping up, Scotty extended his hand as Chloe's uncle walked into the room. Behind him, an older woman eyed Scotty from behind heavy horn-rimmed reading glasses, her wrinkled face set in a suspicious glare. Chloe reached out to drag her out from behind her uncle.

"Relax, Mrs. Elbarad, Scotty is my friend."

Everyone took a chair, Chloe sitting as close to Scotty as she could, doing nothing to dispel the feeling he was facing a firing squad.

"Well," Scotty said, squirming in his chair.

"Well," Chloe's uncle said, his leg swinging placidly, admiring his own expertly tooled riding boots, a smile on his aristocratic well-tanned face.

"My dear boy, Chloe wants very much to attend this outing with you," Mrs. Elbarad cleared her throat, taking command of the situation. "I would be more comfortable if I was able to meet your mother."

Scotty's eyes fell. "My mother is dead, madam. Killed last year in an auto accident. That's why we moved to Sarasota. My dad left us when I was a child. I live with my older sister and her boyfriend, a close family friend. My sister is taking us to the sanctuary. Oh." Turning to Chloe he said, "I forgot to tell you. My sister suggested I invite Kane Cobby. Do you know him?"

Chloe's uncle interrupted. "Captain Cobby's boy? Yes, I know the family. Captain Cobby is a good man. I know something of the story behind his boy's difficult life before his mother walked out."

"Oh, good, then it's settled. Scotty, you can pick us up at eleven."

Glancing at Mrs. Elbarad, he saw the woman nod, giving Scotty a stingy smile.

Jumping up, Chloe announced she would walk Scotty to the door. From the other room they could hear the sound of a tinny lawnmower getting closer. Before he knew what had hit him, Scotty was assailed by the tiny body of a soapy, soaking wet Teddy. The diminutive dog shook himself, suds flying in all directions, accompanied by laughter and scrambling. The groomer entered the room, profusely apologizing with a towel in his hand. But Teddy, determined to elude him, flew off Scotty's lap to dash first to Chloe, then Mrs. Elbarad's lap, soaking them all. Grabbing the towel from the groomer, Scotty managed to scoop up Teddy, his eager face alive with mischief, his Lilliputian pink tongue flicking furiously, alert for any chance to grab more attention. Handing the canine monkey back to the groomer, Scotty and Chloe made a hasty exit.

Walking with Chloe to the gate, Scotty asked her if she knew Kane.

"Yeah, he's been around the neighborhood for quite a while. We all kind of know one another."

"I'm heading over to see him now. See you tomorrow." Turning, he gave Chloe a wave, hopped into his Jeep and sped down the road to confront Kane. _Why in the world Abby's forcing this on me sure beats all_. He wondered about the revelation that Kane had been deserted by his mother. Sounded like a story there. Abby probably knew the scoop. Funny, he realized almost everyone in his life came from a broken family. They all knew pain and rejection well, especially Jose.

Thinking about Chloe, he wondered what her father did for a living. Must be a pretty rich dude to afford a house like that. He knew it must be hard on Chloe, losing her mother to some freak illness and her father never being around. Well, she could join the club. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind lowering her standards to give him a tumble. He wondered how well Kane knew her. Maybe he _could_ be a little more patient with him, now that he understood where the chip on his shoulder came from.

*

Arriving home, he ran down to the dock. The deserted yacht rocked gently in its mooring with Captain Cobby nowhere to be seen. Shouting from the dock, he asked for permission to board, just to be sure. He felt ridiculous, but his sister insisted. According to her, to do otherwise would be rude, even though, technically, they owned the vessel. While the captain maintained a presence onboard, the traditional nicety sufficed, extended out of courtesy.

Sprinting back to the house, he rifled through the kitchen drawers looking for paper and pencil. Taking his time, he composed a friendly invitation to the sanctuary for Kane, closing with a comment about how Chloe was coming too and they could all have fun together. He knew it sounded lame but it should do the job.

Ambling back down to the dock, with his posse now tagging along—except for Echo, missing in action again—he left the note where Kane would be sure to see it.

Returning to the house from the dock, he felt the oppressive weight of the sun. His shirt lay plastered to his back, his tail limp and strangled, wrapped unnaturally around his waist. He really needed a soothing dip in the pool. Looking down at the hot panting faces of Penny, Mimi, and Barney— _how come he isn't with Echo_?—he decided they could use a dip too. Their panting was driving him crazy. Whipping off his sunglasses, he ran to the pool.

"Last one in gets dog food for dinner." Ripping off his shirt before he jumped in, he somehow missed the sight of Kane walking from the carriage house next door, on his way to the dock. Had he seen Kane, he would have wondered, for a split second, if his flashing golden eyes could be seen from the yacht, or if his tawny golden six-foot tail could be seen, or even the beginnings of what were clearly going to be wings. Yes, he would definitely have wondered.

# Chapter 5

Abby spent the day resting, although she didn't feel tired. For some reason, Echo continued to dog her steps all day long, even when she tried to rest up. She figured she must have slept for four hours, although she could have sworn it was only fifteen minutes. _Where did my mind go for the last four hours?_ She had no memory of sleeping. Echo lay on the bed with her, by her side, both of them with their wings crushed beneath them. Hardly comfortable. _So how did I fall asleep?_

Glancing at the clock again, she remembered her date with Peter. Admonishing Echo to stay home until she signaled for her, she tucked her tail securely away, hurrying over to his house.

*

Echo sat upright against Abby's pillows as Abby hurried out of the bedroom to keep her meeting with Peter. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the comforter slide off the side of the bed as a golden creature with rainbow eyes slid atop the bed to plunk down in front of Echo. The two creatures stared at one another as their auras spoke, twin wise furry cat faces looking like bookends.

"Echo, I think you need to keep your eye on Abby. She is going to need your help more than you know." Netty sat at the edge of the bed, watching the two minions silently communicate.

Echo reached into her fanny pack to pull out the bottles of hair she had removed from Barney and Mimi, silently passing it to the other minion. She hung her head. "Are you sure—My Barney?" The auras dimmed.

Netty nodded, rising from the bed. She held her arms out for the other creature. "We will do the best we can. Come, Baby, time to get home to Wil." She bent down to stroke Echo. "We will see you soon." Straightening up, she held Baby to her breast and disappeared in a flurry of thin air and golden wings as Echo slid off the bed to head to Peter's house.

*

Ringing Peter's doorbell, Abby thought she heard voices, the sound of laughter. Definitely an unusual occurrence as Peter generally cultivated a quiet and stoic personality. Her curiosity aroused, she rang the doorbell again. The door opened suddenly, showing Peter standing in the entrance, his face flushed and smiling.

"Abby, what a nice surprise. Please come in." He took her hand, drawing her into the room as she heard soft music coming from the sound system. Italian? He ushered her into the kitchen, suddenly shy.

"Abby, I would like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Ginger Mae Shrute. Ginger, this is my friend and employer, Abby Preston." A very attractive blonde stood up from the kitchen table, her eyes unable to hide her intense curiosity. Peter went over to her, placing his arm around her shoulders. She looked at him, smiling.

_This is obviously not just a friendly relationship_ , Abby realized with a start. Looking around the kitchen, the makings of a romantic dinner lay scattered over the granite countertops. _Lobster and champagne?_ She raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Are you celebrating something?"

Peter hustled over to Abby, pulling out a chair. "Please, have a seat, Abby. Would you care for a cocktail?" Abby declined, keeping her eyes on Ms. Shrute. "Ginger and I aren't celebrating anything special. This just happens to be two of her favorite things."

_I'll bet,_ Abby thought. She watched Ginger simper as Peter refilled her champagne glass. The woman was clearly older than Peter. Why that should bother her, she didn't know. Jose was younger than her, yet she thought nothing of it.

"So, Ginger, are you from Sarasota?"

"Ginger _Mae_. No, I'm from New York. I moved here a few months ago." Fluffing her hair distractedly, she continued, "I love it here. My niece, Daisy, lives with me. I thought this climate would be good for her. She's mute." Ginger Mae cast her eyes down as she spoke Daisy's name.

"I'm so sorry to hear that." Abby absorbed an uncomfortable impression from Ginger Mae. _Desperation? Yes_. And cunning, quite subliminal. Making a note to herself, she decided Ms. Shrute would bear some watching. Rising, she directed herself to Peter.

"I hope you don't mind. Can I have a word with you . . . privately?" Unable to help herself, she threw a tight dismissive glance toward the woman. Ginger Mae picked up her champagne glass, smiling at Peter.

"Don't worry about me, hon. I'll just go out to the pool. Take all the time you need. Nice meeting you, Abby. I'm sure we'll meet again." She gave Peter a kiss on the cheek and sashayed out the door.

Abby turned to Peter, noting his red face and bashful grin, irritatingly simple. She caught herself. _Wow, my claws are out. Could I be jealous?_ Abby realized she'd been the only female on the scene for some time now. She gladly welcomed another female presence—Echo didn't count—as she could sure use a girlfriend. But she instinctively knew Ginger Mae wasn't girlfriend material. She just didn't know why. Dismissing the enigma of Ginger Mae Shrute, she turned to Peter, all business.

"I have a strange request for you, although I'm not at liberty to explain why I need the things you'll help me obtain. Trust me that it's urgent. I'll make everything clear to you in time. First I need you to employ the services of a dozen truckers with vehicles capable of safely carrying wild animals. Their trip will be short, loading no problem. My concern is the heat and proper ventilation. The transport is for one hour. Water won't be needed. The men must be reliable and competent. I need them to be available within two weeks. I know that will make your job more difficult. If need be, I'll reimburse them for any previous commitment, with a significant bonus for themselves, of course. I don't care what I must spend to make this happen.

"The pickup is here, in Sarasota. They're not to know the exact location until minutes before the pickup. Please find hotels for the drivers and their trucks. I don't want more than two truckers to stay in the same hotel." Peter furiously took notes, his eyebrows raised, his brow furrowed.

"This next request is more difficult. I'll need fifty drivers and trucks in the same amount of time. The haul will be longer. About two hours. The loading is more difficult . . . just unwieldy terrain. Again, the animals will be no problem. But make no mistake, this will be a herculean task. The difficulty arises at our destination. Again, difficult topography.

"I'll also need five trucks capable of transporting elephants and four giraffes. Plus trucks capable of handling aquatic animals. I need a complete list of everyone employed at the Bronx Zoo in New York City. They'll be quietly offered bonuses for their expertise regarding transport of their charges." At that, Peter's jaw dropped. He stared at Abby, ready with a question. She held up her finger to her lips.

"Not yet. There's more. I need all the drivers from the second group to be single, with no attachments to family. They must be law abiding. No felons, absolutely no violent crime. I want you to hire the investigators who found Mama Diaz. It will be their responsibility to vet the drivers. I want all drivers who have any personal pets to be encouraged to bring them. Pets of any kind. Provisions will be made to accommodate any unusual pets beyond the normal dogs and cats." Abby paused, the strain in her voice unmistakable. Her sunglasses slipped down her nose revealing a golden glow around the spaces between the glasses and her face. Her finger pushed the shades back into place. She glanced at Peter to gauge his reaction. His face had drained of all color.

"Peter, do you trust me?" Abby covered his hand with her own.

"Absolutely, I do." His voice faltered, confusion ripping across his face.

"I need your faith in me more than ever." Bowing her head, she quickly strategized. _How much can I tell him without freaking him out? He does have a right to know. More than anyone._ She knew an easier way to force him to do her bidding, but if she chose that path he would probably never forgive her. She knew it would be better if he cooperated of his own volition. If she told him too much, he may shut down in shock. She needed his analytical non-emotional mind to pull all this together.

"I want you to also arrange transportation on a private airfreight flight from Tampa to Newark Airport for the Sarasota animals. I'll need extra trucks with the appropriate accommodations, water included this time. They'll be transported along with the group from the zoo. I'll be at the zoo myself, along with everyone here at our compound, including you. Please arrange for our flights from Tampa to Newark. I think it would be best if you charter a private jet. All our dogs will be coming, of course."

"Abby, I don't understand. This is an enormous undertaking. I can't make this happen in two weeks." Peter withdrew a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow, his expression grave. Standing, he took a quick gulp of water from the tap, then turned to Abby, his face pale and leached of all color.

"What you are asking is illegal. Do you have permission to take these animals? And why would you want to? If you have a fascination for wildlife, there are other ways we can explore this. What about the safety of the animals and the people in their proximity? Abby, I don't know." Shaking his head, he began to pace. Abby saw him glance out to the pool where Ginger Mae waited. Rising, she fixed him with an icy glare.

"Perhaps I have made a mistake. I thought you would be up to the task. I understand the timing is difficult for you." Softening, she went to him, placing her hand on his cheek. "Would it help if we hired Ginger Mae to help you? We can have her deal with the temp agencies. Of course you will need a staff to handle the paperwork and organization." She really did not want to have that woman around, emanating her bad vibe. But right now, Peter was more important to her. She wanted to avoid having Echo subdue him at all costs. Observing his expression, she could tell he was conflicted, clearly making emotional calculations. Hmm . . . that was so unlike him. Perhaps she had underestimated his connection with this woman.

"Peter?"

"I just don't think I can commit to something this fraught with danger. Maybe if I had more time. Abby, you know I don't want to say no to you." Abby's hand slipped down to her side, defeat weighing her down.

"I'm so sorry, Peter, you leave me no choice. This is not what I wanted."

Turning, she purposely hurried across the foyer floor to Peter's front door as he trailed behind, still apologizing. Abby opened the door to find Echo awaiting her. Stepping aside, she let Peter see.

"What the heck is this?" Peter looked up, astonished but not frightened. _Good, it will go smoother that way,_ she thought. With a nod to Echo, Abby stepped back toward the kitchen to keep an eye on Ginger Mae, still relaxing by the pool.

"Abby, what's going on here?" His head swiveled to her then back to the front door. "What the hell is this thing?"

"It's okay, Peter. This won't take long." Abby watched as Echo entered the foyer, a crystal antler splitting open. With a last glance toward the pool, she approached Echo, holding out her arm. A tiny blood-red circle dropped into her trembling hand. Moving over to a transfixed Peter, his owl eyes nearly bursting, she raised her hand. The tiny drop of red liquid launched itself, disappearing deep into his ear canal.

He frantically brushed at his ear, his efforts ineffectual. Movements slowed as the effect of the red drop became apparent. His eyes closed slowly, blinked, then closed again. They flew open, color coming back and a smile lighting up his face as if nothing untoward had happened. He didn't even comment on Echo's presence.

"You can leave now, Echo, thank you." She picked Echo up, giving her a hug and a kiss, whispered, "I love you," then closed the door behind her. Turning back to Peter, she repeated the instructions she had given him in the kitchen.

"I'll get right on it, Abby. Let me talk to Ginger Mae straight away." His face showed nothing but eagerness.

"Careful now, she is not to know any of the details of the mission, is that clear?"

Patting her on the shoulder, Peter assured her of his discretion. Doubting nothing, Abby left, confident her plans were now underway.

*

Ginger Mae kissed Peter goodbye at the front door, her anxiousness and fear of Armoni holding her in an iron grip, a definite damper on her evening. She was running very late and Armoni would have her scalp. Stifling her trepidation, she concentrated on Peter, who gazed up at her like a grinning fool. _For God's sake, he's acting like this is the first time he's ever had sex._

"Are you sure you won't need me to pick up your things tomorrow? I can send a car for you and Daisy if it will be easier."

She was convinced Peter would jump off the Ringling Bridge if she asked him to. "I think that would be very helpful, thank you. I can't wait for you to meet Daisy. Are you sure she won't be in the way?" Ginger Mae held her breath. She didn't want Peter to change his mind. Making Daisy safe was always her first concern.

"Sweetheart, there's plenty of room for everyone in this big house. You'll be spending a lot of time here anyway. I'll prepare a room for her in the morning."

Looking up at the sky, they could see the sun starting to dispel the darkness, tendrils of a new day preparing to announce supremacy over the night. "I guess it is tomorrow already. I'll let you go. This is going to be a difficult day—we have so much to do for Abby. I'm glad you're willing to help us. It'll be a perfect way for you to get to know the family." He swept a piece of her hair away from her face.

"And to get to know you better." Glancing outside, she saw the car Peter had ordered pull into the driveway. "I'll call you as soon as I'm ready." Thinking better of that, she then suggested he have the car ready in two hours. Anticipating trouble, she decided to make a quick getaway. It might be better if they sneaked out while Armoni slept.

On the way back to the high-rise, she plotted her escape, her thoughts then turning to Ms. Abby Preston. She had sensed the tension in Abby, surmising she might be part of the cause. She wasn't sure if Ms. Abby had bought her act or not. She had seemed quite surprised to find her there, in her cool character kind of way. Ginger Mae could handle a female with a snippy attitude just fine, having no intention of letting any woman come between her and her plans.

What an astonishing surprise, to have Peter offer her a job. With Abby's approval no less. And he sweetened it further by suggesting she move in. Although it was supposed to be for the duration of the project, she had no doubt she could make it permanent, getting swept away with the idea of becoming the mistress of Peter's fabulous home. He wasn't a bad guy to sleep with either. A little on the tentative side for her taste, but that would change as he became more confident with her. Actually, he really was a gentleman. The age difference was not a problem for her, a nice change from all the imperious older johns, with their grasping fingers and harsh demands. _Gosh, this could be a real dream for me and Daisy._

And then she came crashing down, fast. She reminded herself: Armoni would go berserk. She was more than an investment in his scheme. She had convinced him she cared for him. No man would take this lying down. She wondered how an unstable ignorant one would take it. She felt in her purse for her blade. Having to use it would be dangerous. She could not afford to get herself embroiled in anything sordid, her relationship with Peter still too new for him to be fully invested in her. She doubted he would be able to afford the complication to his life right now. As they say, timing is everything. She must sneak out of the high-rise without trouble. She knew Armoni would have a difficult time finding her since Peter had sent a car for her, leaving him in the dark about her destination. By the time Armoni was able to track her, she would have worked her magic on Peter, maybe even telling him some of the truth. Just in case.

Feeling more confident, she watched the sun come up, praying for an omen to bless her plans. As the car approached the high-rise, she asked the driver to wait, informing him she planned to send a child down to the car to wait for her. If there was any problem, he was to take the child to Bird Key where he had picked her up. She gave him Peter's cell number, asking him to relay the change of plans.

Her heart beating wildly, she rode the elevator to the seventeenth floor. Getting out of the elevator, she put her hands to her face, trying to calm herself down. Her blood pounded so hard at her temples she thought it would wake the neighbors. Standing in front of their condo, she listened carefully, hearing nothing. She eased open the door and slipped in. Looking around at the mess on the floor, her heart almost stopped as she spied Armoni, his back against the refrigerator, sitting on the floor, asleep. His head rested on his chest, a bottle of gin in his lap, his face and shirt crusted with sauce from some mystery food item. Eyeing the empty gin bottle, she knew he would be violent if he woke before she made her escape.

Tip-toeing to Daisy's bedroom, she woke the child, quietly instructing her to put on her robe and slippers. She put some clothes in a small travel bag and stole to the bedroom she shared with Armoni. Looking wildly around the mess, she spied a large piece of her luggage. Opening it up, she began stuffing clothes and shoes into the bag. On the dresser sat Armoni's wallet. Picking it up, she hit pay dirt, stuffing a wad of bills into her pocket. Leaving some items behind, she hurried to Daisy's bedroom where she found Daisy sitting on the bed with her bag and her stuffed dog. Slipping both bags over her shoulder, she put her fingers to her lips. Taking Daisy's hand they hurried past Armoni, still asleep on the floor in the kitchen. Outside the condo, she didn't breathe until they were on the way down in the elevator. She tried to catch her breath, her underarms soaked from the tension as she hustled them into the car. Daisy stared at her calmly, her eyes missing nothing. Leaning back in her seat, Ginger Mae wrapped her arms around the child, holding her close. She felt Daisy relax.

"Don't you worry, baby doll, we have nowhere to go but up now." Holding Daisy, Ginger Mae slept all the way to Peter's house, where she woke to a tap on the window. They looked up to see Peter's welcoming grin, his generous arms wide open. For now, they were safe.

*

His own snoring woke him. He lay on the floor not wanting to move, trying to remember why he wasn't in bed. His mouth tasted like dry dog shit. Realizing his nose lay buried in his armpit, he gagged on the foul odor. He desperately needed some water. His throat was dry but his head hurt too much to move. Where was Ginger Mae?

" _Ginger Mae_ , git me some water, right now!" Remembering he had got drunk because she hadn't come home after dinner last night, he struggled weakly to his feet. _That bitch. Partying it up with the enemy_. He hadn't liked the idea of her going over there to begin with. He didn't even actually know where she was. Good thing too, or he would have gone over there and yanked her out by her hair. He imagined the gay blade's hands on his Ginger Mae and he saw red.

"Ginger Mae!" _Where was that bitch?_ He leaned over the faucet, letting the water run into his mouth. Swallowing, he looked at his watch. It was almost noon. Wow. He had been out for a long time. No wonder his neck hurt like a damn. He better go lie down. _Why didn't that bitch wake me up when she got home?_

Passing Daisy's room, he saw the door was open. He stumbled in, his bleary eyes trying to focus. Her room looked different, kinda empty. _What was up with that?_ Stumbling to his own bedroom, he slammed the door against the wall, the doorknob punching a hole in the sheetrock. _Whoops_. He tried to focus on the bed, his eyes bloodshot and useless. "Ginger Mae," he shouted, making his head pound. Wincing, he toned it down. Trying again, he collapsed on the bed, his hands searching for her.

"Come on, babe, wake the fuck up and take care of me." It occurred to him that she might be playing with him. She was probably mad at him for falling asleep in the kitchen. _When she came home, she was probably looking forward to some good bangin' after hanging out with the fag lawyer._ Feeling around the bed, it finally sunk in that she wasn't there. Groaning, he rolled over and held his head, thinking that all he needed was a good fuck to clear his head. Tugging at his pants seemed to take forever. He pulled off his three-day-old underwear, slinging the foul garment across the room, wondering why he had to take care of himself when he was supporting a hot juicy blonde who seemed to increasingly avoid having sex with him. _The selfish bitch._

_How would she like it if I climbed into bed with tight, young Daisy?_ Yeah, he had seen her watching him in the morning when he took a quick naked run to the kitchen for his morning Budweiser. _She probably wants me, just like Kelly did when she was that age. They all want it, the sluts. I've left her alone so far out of respect for my love for Ginger Mae, but what the heck—I'm mad at her anyway. Would serve her right_. He could handle them both no problem. Mumbling to himself, he drooled on the comforter and fell back to sleep.

# Chapter 6

Lita had come to New York City at the request of her superior at the CIA. It was a treat to get away from Sarasota where she had to be constantly on guard. Today she sported a trim linen pantsuit and low heels. Her riotous curls were tamed and pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her exotic face was devoid of all makeup, save a touch of coral lip balm. Her beauty didn't need enhancement, but her role as Nasir's mistress demanded it.

She watched the city bustle with commuters, all leading busy lives, hurrying home to their loved ones. With a pang, she realized she envied them. A highly charged and committed agent since college, she'd had her share of suitors over the years but found she was already married to her country. After seven years of playing such an isolating role in the sunshine state, she was surprised to see herself resetting her priorities. Now in her mid-thirties, her biological clock had started to tick loud enough to be heard over the clink of cocktail glasses and seductive bedroom music.

As much as she felt excited to be in New York, she wondered why she received the call in to headquarters. Something must be up, although she had no idea what it could be. Things were moving as planned on her end. She was in the process of packing her house and relocating to Washington D.C., and Omar had convinced her (as if she would refuse) to take a swank job in Washington to be close to him. Clearly, his triumph in the election would be inevitable. He had hinted to her that his plans included her coming out of the shadows and taking a more visible role in his life. The thought of what that meant long-term made her sick. She doubted how much longer she could conceal her contempt.

Lita stopped on the sidewalk, pulling her coat closer as the late spring winds whipped through the tunnels created by the monolithic office buildings standing like proud stoic soldiers over the hard electric grittiness of her surroundings. Pushing on, she took a turn off the main thoroughfare, her destination a tiny storefront Asian market with trays of tempting colorful citrus and greens that blocked the sidewalk.

Habit forced her to glance around behind her, noting a mother dragging two children with schoolbooks, their laughing faces full of the promise a new day brings. Across the street an older man, dressed poorly for the blustery weather, chased a hat down the street, meeting her eyes briefly as he scooped it up and turned back, a camera in hand. Delivery men in double-parked vans carried goods into other storefronts while garbage cans were noisily placed at the curb for pick up. Distracted by her curious summons, she decided she went unnoticed.

Ducking into the grocery, she made her way through the cramped rows of food stuffs, the cool smells of sharp freshness a contrast to the vague rotting smell on the street. She stepped through a small plastic doorway where she found young Asian men cleaning produce for the front of the store. They nodded, unsmiling, and continued their work. She found a wide passageway off a storeroom in the very back of the store which led to a metal door, no doorknob in evidence. An electronic key lock stood guard on the wall. Taking out her passkey she swiped it, hearing the door pop open. As she passed through, she waved up at the sophisticated surveillance system, the door automatically locking behind her.

*

Two hours later, she sat in the conference room of her supervisor's offices, surrounded by eight other men and women from her original team. They had known one another for over a decade. All were trusted and committed agents, willing to sacrifice their lives to preserve the quickly eroding freedoms of the beloved country they hardly recognized anymore.

Looking around the table, Lita observed the shock on their faces as they learned they were all being reassigned, including Lita. Reassignment folders passed around the table, but there was nothing for Lita. Her heart hammering, she wondered what had happened. It was unlikely the agents would be told anything, explanations from their superiors were never obligatory. They would just have to follow the story in the news media like the rest of the country. Eventually bits and pieces of the truth would trickle down through the ranks, just as in any other company. But why no assignment for her? Her fellow agents prepared to leave.

A few were making plans to meet at a local hangout across town. Lita was asked to join them. Nodding her head, she caught the eye of her supervisor, receiving a subtle nod, permission to stay behind. Explaining she would catch up at the bar and grill, she said goodbye to her team and returned to her seat at the table.

"Okay, let's hear it." Lita's supervisor, William Martin, was a blandly handsome man who had done his training with her after graduating from a mid-western university known for its football successes. One of the good ole boys, he rose quickly, easily promoted from within the ranks, leaving Lita his subordinate. The fact that they once shared a short affair during their training had luckily escaped the eyes of all at the company.

Coming over to sit next to her at the table, he placed his hands atop hers.

"I know this has been hard on you, Lita. I should think you would be happy it's over."

"What do you mean over, William, he's still out there, and he'll still win the election. That means the Salafis have won." Her tone turned to bitterness; confusion and hostility turning her face ugly. Unexpectedly, she burst into tears. She wiped her nose, humiliated by her show of emotion, abjectly unprofessional. "I'm so sorry, William, it's just that I feel like the last decade of my life has been flushed down the toilet."

William rose, pulling Lita to her feet. He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. They stood holding each other until Lita calmed down. Releasing her, he stepped back.

"Don't you know by now that I'll look after you? I know you, of all people, are entitled to an explanation. I don't have much that will make you feel good though. We've failed to get any direct evidence on Omar or his mosque. We know from the Net and informants that they're definitely planning something. We believe it will involve a bomb of a catastrophic nature. We don't know when or where. We've heard from our team in China that they're paranoid about becoming a target now they're the world's leading economy. But you know all of that. Two things have happened since we last talked. China seems to be under the impression that it's the U.S. who's conspiring to destroy their economy, in retaliation for bringing the West to its knees."

Lita opened her mouth to hotly object, but William cut her off.

"I know, I know. It doesn't make sense, clearly both countries benefit from a cordial relationship. We've come to believe they're being fed false intelligence by the Salafis through indirect believable sources. The small plot we stumbled on over a decade ago is suddenly taking on more ominous considerations, if you're not too timid to connect the dots. Our current cowardly administration is running scared. They know they're going to lose the election. The senior administration staff is scrambling for comfortable exits. It's time to start covering all those expensive Socialist New World asses.

"That brings me to the second thing, which is why our mission has been scrubbed. They don't want any evidence of this investigation to fall into the hands of the new cabinet members in Omar's administration. The shredding is occurring as I speak. The last thing the current administration needs is a global scandal to put the damper on the new careers of the administration hacks, and the President, of course. There is no telling how seriously it would impact the fees he'll receive for global speaking engagements. And how will his sycophants be able to sell access to the White House if they're blamed for trying to use the CIA to bring the new president down, spying on him for over a decade? The liberal press would run with that story for years."

"We can't let them get away with this," Lita cried passionately. William shook his head, the born survivor of several administrations.

"Save your energy and your emotions, Lita. It's done. The only thing I can offer you is your new assignment. You're ordered to report to this office within one month. That should give you enough time to put this behind you."

Handing her a file card, he continued, "You are to have your possessions shipped to your new address in Norwalk, Connecticut. I think you'll be pleased." William finally smiled. "It's a lovely town that has successfully protected its residents from the onslaught of the tenement invasion which has destroyed so many of our cities. Much like Sarasota was able to do.

"You'll report to me. I'm putting you in charge of a team that will be tasked with coordinating data from our overseas operatives with data collected here at home. You, and only you, will be quietly looking for more evidence to support what we now suspect will involve China, or any other group for that matter, with the Salafis. No one on your team is to know who your target is. Best of all, your private life will be your own from now on."

Lita sat stunned, her conflicted emotions preventing rational thought. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. At the moment all she could focus on was 'your private life will be your own from now on'. No more of Omar's sexual brutality. No more hiding who she really was. She could have actual friends, maybe a boyfriend.

"Did I not mention this was a promotion?"

Finally, William's words put a wry smile on her face. "Expense account?"

"Yes."

"Budget for my new office, with a window, of course?"

"Yes."

"My own secretary . . . that I don't have to share?"

William smiled. "Yes."

"Personal driver?"

"Emphatically, no." They laughed together, knowing the system was not perfect but they had to do their best anyway. She would be okay.

Thanking William, she promised to stay in touch. She knew she would make a philosophical adjustment and accept what had happened. Now she was just anxious to get to the restaurant to meet the rest of the team for a little R & R.

# Chapter 7

Omar tossed his briefcase on the black and maroon spread on his bed. Slipping off his Italian loafers, he opened his closet door, looking for the clothes that would be just right to complete the disguise he would be forced to wear to the mosque this evening. He resented the call ordering him back to Sarasota. His frantic schedule allowed little room for deviations. He flew all over the U.S. for rallies and fundraisers and this would set his schedule back unnecessarily. His team freaked out, screaming bloody murder because of the cancelations he had forced them to make.

It was inexcusable for the imams to do this to him at this late date. They were too close to screw up now. The polls loved him and his numbers were still rising. Even faster since the elusive Mrs. Jane Nasir had mysteriously died. Patting himself metaphorically on the shoulder, he chuckled at what a genius call he had made. His good mood died as he pondered the reasons he could have been called back to the mosque. None of them qualified as urgent enough to warrant this kind of action.

He laid out his clothes carefully, hoping he could squeeze in the time to look in on his daughter. She would hear that he was home eventually. He didn't want her hurt by his inattention. Pressing a bell, he ordered a cup of tea to be delivered to his daughter's room for him to enjoy as he surprised her with his visit.

Making his way to his daughter's bedroom, his other cellphone rang; a throwaway that he changed every week. Only one person knew this number. Glancing at the cell, he recognized his contact's number. After a brief conversation, he hung up. The meeting was not for two weeks. _Two goddamn weeks_. Sounding evasive, his contact reported something serious was up. Omar was ordered to do nothing until contacted. _Nothing_? His contact expressly ordered him to stay in Sarasota. Omar objected to the chaos it would cause his campaign. His staff would flip out, the press would go nuts. "Unavoidable" was the response.

Omar racked his memory, looking for something that the imams may have objected to. He dismissed the thought, knowing his performance to have been flawless.

Finding some unexpected available time on his hands, he smiled. He knew one person who would be overjoyed to see him. Dialing Lita's cell, he heard her pick up.

"Darling, how would you like to have dinner tonight in your favorite restaurant and a night of lovemaking that will last until the sun comes up?"

"Omar, I thought you were in Texas. Don't you have a fundraiser tonight?" Lita sounded a little stressed, delight absent from her voice.

"What's wrong, darling? You don't sound like yourself." Omar's short temper was well known and this was the last thing he expected from his mistress. _Potential wife,_ he corrected himself, although he had yet to set that plan in motion.

"I'm sorry, Omar, I'm just tired from all the packing I've been doing the last few weeks." Mollified, Omar thought she sounded much better.

"Well, perhaps we should stay in. You can cook for me instead."

"No, no, I would love to go out. It would be a lovely break. Besides, the house is a mess. I've packed so much I don't think you'll be comfortable anymore. And the bedroom is the worst."

"Okay, my love. You win. I want you to pack a bag for at least a week, maybe more. I'll get us a suite at the Ritz Carlton. We'll have plenty of privacy and be quite comfortable."

There was a pause and Omar could almost hear her thinking on the other end. _What is there to think about?_ he wondered impatiently. This was not like Lita at all.

"Darling, I hate to take you away from the campaign at such an important juncture. This is a critical time. Why would you want to risk anything now? You're so close." She sounded breathless.

"Darling, are you alone? Did I call at the wrong time?" His voice cut like a steel knife.

"My love, you know I exist only for you. I'm only thinking of your welfare. I'm honored by your call. I'll pack a bag immediately." Hanging up satisfied, Omar felt a thrill as he thought of the intense sex he would enjoy for the next few days. Lita was an unquenchable lover. He laughed confidently to himself. He would do his utmost to ensure she was satisfied, as always.

With a smile on his face, he proceeded to his daughter's bedroom. He wondered if he could arrange a few fundraisers at the Ritz, something exclusive, while he waited for the imams to meet with him, something big to pull his butt out of the fire.

Picking up his business cell, he instructed Andrew to contact his campaign manager with the change of plans. He also instructed him to make reservations for the Ritz Carlton, under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Brooks. "Please mention they will be checking in through the private entrance," he added.

Concluding the call, he knocked at his daughter's door, hearing laughter. The door opened and the apple of her daddy's eye appeared, throwing herself into her father's arms, erasing all of his nagging anxiety.

# Chapter 8

Scotty rose bright and early today—the big day. His excitement percolated contagiously as the posse sensed something good afoot. Their eager faces shined with false expectation of being included. Noticing that Echo was nowhere in the room, Scotty peered out the window, frowning at the sky: overcast and threatening rain. Having neglected to check the forecast, he sorted through his gadgets until he located one which would give him the weather report. Intermittent showers. Well, that wouldn't stop him.

Looking through his closet, he searched for a shirt which would conceal his wings. His tail twitched sharply as if it heard his thoughts. Spotting his windbreaker, he slid it over his messy hair, the hood hanging down, beautifully covering the bulge of his growing wings. Maybe the intemperate weather would serve a purpose after all.

Running down the stairs, Barney and Mimi yipping at his heels and Penny descending like a regal queen, he found Abby at the breakfast table, Echo sitting on top facing her. It felt like they were brainstorming, fleeting auras stroked his mind then dissipated. Not enough to tell him what they were talking about. He looked for dog food while he watched Echo climb down from the table to take her spot next to Barney. Barney had been very chummy with Penny and Mimi of late. Probably a result of all of Echo's unexplained absences. Mimi only had food on her mind as she pawed the back of Scotty's legs, urging him to hurry. Filling their bowls with fresh water, he turned to Abby, who appeared lost in thought.

"Hey, Ab, you excited about the trip to the sanctuary?" Scotty thought Abby didn't seem too happy.

She turned, absently giving him a smile. "Sorry, kiddo, I was just wondering about Jose. I haven't heard from him since he landed in Newark and left to meet the investigators." Rising, she added, "I think I'll try to reach him before we leave. Did you speak to Kane?"

"Not exactly. He wasn't on the boat so I left him a note. After I finish with the dogs, I'm going to run down to the dock and look him up. Then I'm going over to Chloe's to pick her and her babysitter up."

"Babysitter?" Abby didn't sound like she was in the mood for a joke right now. Looking closer, he could see lines on her brow and signs of weariness under her eyes. Even her tail looked dispirited and droopy today.

"Just kidding. She had to agree to have her old nanny come with us or she couldn't go. You think our house is nice, you should see hers. They have guards at the gate and a cook with a staff. Her father travels a lot for business. He's not around much. Her mother died a while ago, so her nanny and her uncle look after her. She's lonely, I guess. By the way, she's also really pretty." He paused, looking at his sister. "Abby, is there something you want to tell me? You look like hell."

She frowned and raised an eyebrow at him. Scotty raised his hands. "Just trying to make you laugh, you look a little tired."

"Well, I've been spending a lot of time working on a project. I'm not ready to talk about it yet, but I will in a couple of weeks. Peter's helping me out. I'd like you to stay away from his house for a few days. I have him swamped with work. He needs every second to help me. You'll see other people coming and going from his house. We hired some extra help. You might as well know—it appears Peter has a girlfriend. Her name is Ginger Mae. You'll meet her soon enough. She'll be running back and forth between the houses to keep me updated."

"Peter has a girlfriend? _That dog_. Do you like her?"

Abby wrinkled her nose at Scotty's question. "I'm not sure yet. But you'll like her, I can tell. She's the type that attracts men like flies on road kill."

"Meow." Scotty laughed. "What's the deal on this project? Why all the hush-hush?"

Abby stood and walked up to Scotty. Her face was deadly serious, inadvertently revealing a hint of fear. He felt a chill down his back.

"You have to trust me, hon, we'll all be okay, but this is urgently important."

Scotty glanced at Echo, who had stopped grooming Barney and was clearly listening. In a small voice he asked his last question. "Does this have anything to do with Echo or our changes?"

Abby did not answer. She turned to Echo, silent communication filling the room. She turned back to Scotty and squeezed his shoulders softly. "Yes."

Scotty's face blanched.

"Don't worry. We'll be okay," Abby repeated with emphasis.

He slowly finished with the dogs, saying nothing as he tried to absorb Abby's comments. Leaving them to their eating, he let himself out to the terrace, ambling down to the dock to find Kane as he tried to dispel his feeling of danger, weighing his concern over Abby's words. He knew his sister. She was scared. And if she was scared, well then so was he. Why hadn't Echo come to _him_ with the problem? He wasn't sure if he should feel left out or not, realizing being a teenager had its limitations. He decided he had better pay a little more attention to things around the house. _Maybe Chloe will want to spend some time with me and the posse? She can bring her little monster, Teddy._

Brightening, he approached the dock. He could see Captain Cobby busy with some mechanical thing, trying to un-jam it with a screwdriver.

"Hey, Captain. Kane around?"

"Yo, Scotty. He just went up to the carriage house to change. He found your note this morning but he had chores to finish first. He'll be ready in time. I'll send him up to the house by twelve. That okay?"

"Sure thing, Captain, thanks."

Captain Cobby stood up, coming toward Scotty at the end of the dock. "Thank you, Scotty, you're a good boy. Your mom would be proud."

Giving Captain Cobby a salute, Scotty headed back to the house to get his Jeep. Abby must have let the posse out because they were waiting for him on the terrace, tails rocking in syncopation.

"Come on, guys, back in the house. I have a day off today and you can't come." Laughing at their miserable faces, he snuck out to the garage, started the Jeep and headed to Chloe's house.

Arriving ten minutes later, he quickly found himself being led into her house by one of her father's men. Chloe was just coming down the stairs, Teddy in her arms and wrapped up in an old yellow and turquoise afghan.

"Do you mind if I bring Ted? It's so hard on him when I leave him behind. I thought I could leave him with your guys, now that they've already met." She grinned impishly, twirling around to show him her outfit.

"Yeah, sure, he'll be okay. I'll tell Echo to keep an eye on him."

"Echo again. I thought she was a cat."

Blushing, Scotty chastised himself for the casual slip.

"Yeah, but um, she'll still do a good job." He covered badly. Fortunately, his butt was saved by Mrs. Elbarad bustling into the foyer. She placed a jacket over Chloe, removing Teddy from her arms.

"No, no, Mrs. E., Ted's going with us." She scooped up the tiny handful, Teddy's pink tongue dancing over her face like a frantic butterfly. "Shall we go?" Scotty watched her smile, noticing light dance in her brown eyes as she led the way to the Jeep.

When they got to the house, Abby and Kane were waiting. They deposited Teddy in the house with his afghan, exchanged greetings and off they went.

*

The Big Cat Sanctuary sprawled out on the inland side of Sarasota where the land had managed to escape overdevelopment, housing a touch of old Florida. Mixed zoning, ramshackle hovels and quaint cottages led to the entrance to the sanctuary, which was well lit and off the main road.

Driving through the main gate, they bumped along a long dusty gravel driveway, parking in a mowed grassy field among the dozens of vehicles already there. Strolling into a small building where their entrance fee was collected by smiling volunteers, Scotty noticed most of them were clearly retired and occupying their time by honoring a passion for wildlife with their dedication to the sanctuary.

Abby got busy snapping photos. She took pictures of the entrance off the main road, the parking lot and the outbuildings. Scotty watched her back up to get long-distance shots of the enclosures. _What's up with her?_ he wondered, as Chloe and Kane comfortably chatted each other up with Mrs. Elbarad trailing behind.

He must admit the animals grabbed him. The sanctuary housed over twenty bears from all parts of the world. There's nothing more awe inspiring than standing four feet in front of a six-hundred-pound brown bear resting on the side of his haunches, casually washing his face with a paw which could break your neck with one swipe, while he nodded amiably at the people gawking at him.

They observed primates with inquisitive tiny wise-man faces, a huge male tortoise ponderously chasing a lady tortoise, hoping to get her to hold still long enough to make new baby tortoises. They watched massive camels, tiny ponies, large exotic South American birds which made outrageous sounds, preening and performing for the crowds, and even a kangaroo. They got to touch a darling ring-tailed lemur, a precious mammal found only on the Island of Madagascar off the coast of Africa, its mighty tail a stunning and fluffy adornment any woman would kill for. And goats. Dozens of the petite ungulates with beautiful markings, tripping over themselves to stick out their tongues at the crowd, begging for the goodies sold for a few dollars to feed them. And a young discarded chimpanzee rescued by the sanctuary, his childlike human antics delighting the crowd.

Did you know that man had eaten chimps into extinction in Africa by 2030? Did you know monkeys had the tops of their skulls sawed off while alive, then positioned under dining tables which had holes cut out of the middle and were draped discreetly so that rich Asian businessmen would not have to watch the death spasms of the human-like primate as they spooned his live brain into their mouths?

Did you hear the story of the Asian restaurant owner who let his son play on the kitchen floor with a sun bear cub while he heated the water he was going to boil the cub in before serving it to rich diners in another room?

Did you know that, in Thailand, farmers chained bears up in boxes so small they could not move at any time in their whole lives while the farmers, without anesthesia, hooked their gall bladders up to archaic machines which would become part of them until they died of infections, pain or malnutrition, just so that the farmers could milk their gall bladders for fluid sold in illegal markets, the supposed antidote to male infertility?

Did you know the black bear had been hunted by men anxious to prove they had the biggest penis in the woods, for mere sport and trophies, all over the U.S. until they risked extinction by 2040?

Did you know elephants, rhinos and the glorious pièce de résistance, the Bengal tiger, had been slaughtered into extinction to make profit from selling their body parts by 2030?

And the most intelligent, creative, discerning man of the forest, the orangutan, like the chimpanzee and so many other primates, was extinct by 2025 through the destruction and theft of their homes for profit in Sumatra and Borneo. Did I mention men thought they tasted like chicken?

Do I even need to tell you what man has done to other wildlife species in all corners of the world?

Scotty finished reading the flyer handed to him by a young girl wearing a shirt that said _Please don't eat my friends_. A photo of her with an assortment of animals, cuddled protectively to her side, featured prominently on her shirt. He noted a little dog which looked unmistakably like Teddy. Shaking his head, he remembered he heard somewhere that people ate dogs and cats as delicacies. _Delicacies_. That meant they had other food. They viewed canines and felines as luxuries. _Yeah_ , he thought bitterly, _men must have their luxuries_.

Disturbed, he tried to erase the abhorrent images from his mind. Looking around, he spied the group and caught up as they approached the tigers and lions. The first tigers he laid his eyes on were the mutant recessive gene white, and the awesome rich and velvety orange Siberian and Bengal. They were kept in a tiger version of giant dog runs. Chain-link fences kept them from escaping. At the back of the runs, they enjoyed access to a huge outdoor compound, complete with colossal boulders, trees and a pool of water.

Scotty approached the run of the most resplendent of the Siberians as he paced, calmly and deliberately, looming large. Very large: his paws massive, his head enormous. Scotty noticed his perfection marred by a missing piece of his left ear, near the tip. It looked like a perfect semi-circle. While Scotty admired the tiger, it approached. Standing in front of Scotty, he sat, adjusting his haunches comfortably, not taking his golden eyes off him. The tiger raised his paw to the chain-link fence, his needle-pointed claws hooking on the metal. Scotty stood inches away. He could actually reach out and touch the tiger if he was stupid enough. The organic sweet smell of the beast engulfed him as he inched closer. He could see the rhythmic rise and fall of the brilliant orange chest, its black velvet stripes moving in time. In that moment, he met the hypnotic stare of the magnificent beast. Neither moved; the tiger a statue.

The tiger suddenly shook his head as if to ward off an annoying fly, never taking his eyes off Scotty. Its eyes narrowed then widened, as if with some kind of recognition. In the pit of his stomach, Scotty felt a great injection of warmth working its way to his head. The space between the two of them slowly morphed. He found himself rising, looking down on the tiger as the fur dropped from the hide of the animal. Roaring deafeningly, the iconic cat fell to the floor, flesh melting to expose the great rib cage. Within seconds, the only signs of the precious magnificence that had stood before him were dissected bones, crumbling to dust. Scotty looked down the runs to the other cats. The runs were empty, only lonely piles of pulverized calcium remained. Scotty felt himself start to sweat. He reached up to wipe his forehead, feeling his hot clammy fingers wipe away the acrid evidence of what must be a delusional reaction.

Looking for his sister and friends, he found himself to be alone. He ran out of the kennel, shouting for them. The roaring silence thundered in his unhearing ears. No staff, no crowds, no Abby. He looked to the sky, shrinking back against the wall of another enclosure as he examined the sudden darkness, the sky preparing to snow. He felt a drop of moisture on his nose. Raising his hand, he caught a flake that drifted leisurely to land on his hand, the color of sludge, unusually large. The moisture from the flake burned his skin with its freezing incalescence. He felt crushed by an overwhelming premonition of despair and hopelessness. His breathing became labored as he fought for air. Gasping, he fell to the ground, his surroundings sluggishly closing in on him. The last thing he remembered was an image of Echo, flashing auras to his mind as he gradually toppled over onto his back, sinking into oblivion.

# Chapter 9

"Dude, you okay?" The voice sounded familiar, but the face was indistinct. He fought the miasma that wanted to pull him back to oblivion. The face crystallized, revealing Kane's amused mug. "Are you sure you don't want to take off your windbreaker? You must be awful hot? With all that fur and all."

_My fur? How did he know?_ Scotty's heart started a steady hammering as concern over Kane's question caught him off guard. He could make out Abby's voice in the background shooing Kane away. He heard the sound of a distant lawnmower and Chloe's voice pleading with the dogs to hush. _Sounds like Teddy took over the posse_. He realized his mind must be clearing. He struggled to sit up, wondering why he was home.

Abby knelt near his head, whispering, "You okay, hon? You gave me a scare there. I had the damnedest time getting you out of there. Someone called an ambulance. I couldn't let them examine you. Thank God, Kane knew what to do. I didn't realize you had told him about us. He stalled everyone while Chloe and I got you to the car. Do you remember anything?"

Scotty stood. He felt fine except for a lingering feeling of anxiety. _Kane covered for me?_ "Can we talk about this later, Abby? I need to clear my head, that tiger's behavior unnerved me. I'll be fine. I want to get Chloe home and then we have to talk, okay?" Scotty spoke in a sober whisper, noticing Chloe's intense focus on them. He watched as Abby walked over to Kane. Placing her arm around his shoulders, she solemnly asked if he and his father would be available for a meeting later this evening. Kane smiled, his face reflecting wonder and respect.

"Sure, Abby, how late do you want us?" His voice was soft, all traces of the youthful wise guy gone at the tone of her seriousness.

"Nine should be fine. Call me if you have any changes. Tell your dad I look forward to seeing him." Smiling, she showed Kane out to the terrace.

"Okay, young lady, it's time for young Scott to take us home." Mrs. Elbarad stood impatiently, heading toward the front door. "Scott, are you sure you should drive? Perhaps your sister should take us home. I cannot have Miss Chloe in any jeopardy." Not getting any response, she bristled. "I am afraid I must insist."

"Okay. Ab, do you mind? I'll sit in the back with Chloe and Teddy. If we can get him in the car, that is." Teddy tried to elude Chloe's grip, running back to where Penny relaxed on her doggie bed, apparently oblivious to Teddy as he persistently climbed her back and straddled her neck in his ridiculous attempts to impregnate her floppy ear.

Driving to Chloe's house gave Scotty a chance to talk to her softly in the back seat. He was aware of Mrs. Elbarad's responsibilities, but resented her attention on any conversation he had with Chloe.

"I'm so sorry this turned out so badly. Do you think you might want to get together again?"

Chloe turned to him, her face brightening with pleasure. Teddy nestled exhausted in her lap on his afghan. "Yes, of course. I'm pretty free for the next few weeks. I just have my morning swim sessions with my coach. Practice starts with the team in June, so I have to be ready to prequalify my time. Why don't you come over tomorrow for lunch? We can hang out at the pool. Bring your suit."

Scotty grimaced. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with Chloe questioning why he wouldn't take off his shirt. Sensing his discomfort she punched him lightly in the arm.

"Okay, I get it, we'd better do something less strenuous until we find out what happened to you today. We can hang out with the monkeys. Want to bring any of the dogs? Ted could sure use the company. Although I have yet to meet your elusive cat, Echo. Where are you hiding her?"

"Monkeys sound great. And Echo was probably hiding in one of the bedrooms." He patted her hand and gave her a return punch on the arm. "I'm hoping you'll get to meet Echo sometime soon. She really is special."

"What could be so special about a cat?"

Scotty looked closely into Chloe's face. He fought the urge to count the freckles liberally sprinkled across her nose, a casualty of the hot Sarasota sun. He looked for a sign, something that would show him that his secret would be safe with her. Regretfully, he decided he didn't know her well enough. Yet.

"She's special, you'll see. In good time." They grinned at each other, two young kids just happy to have discovered they really liked each other.

*

Driving back home, Abby announced she was going to run over to Peter's for a few minutes. She suggested he walk the dogs then go take a nap. She would be back in about an hour, then they could talk. She also wanted him available for her meeting tonight with the Cobbys. Scotty nodded, his mind elsewhere. Saying goodbye, he rounded up the posse to take them out to the terrace.

Echo had decided it was safe to show her face and latched on to Mimi to the consternation of Barney. The extra attention Echo devoted to Mimi had helped her to integrate more fully into the posse. Her food aggressions diminished as she gained confidence. Her demeanor had brightened. She no longer wandered around the house like the ugly new girl, and was well on her way to becoming a well-balanced happy doggy.

Scotty watched her frolic on the terrace, wishing it could be so easy for him. He no longer showed any signs of his infirmities, but he felt like they still owned part of him. He reflected on the improvement in Kane's behavior toward him. That was a blessing. He would make a better attempt to get to know him, try to include him more often. Maybe he might end up with a friend after all. He was tempted to think things were looking up; if only he could shake his heavy case of the heebie-jeebies.

He made himself comfortable on the wicker lounge chair, stretching out to soak up the sun that had decided to show up after all. That usually made him feel better. Closing his eyes, he thought about Chloe and wondered how long it would take before she asked him about the ever-present sunglasses. He had noticed more than one curious glance at them. _Bound to happen soon._ Breathing deeply, he nodded off.

*

Ginger Mae answered the front door, not surprised to find Abby standing there, impatience plastered on her face.

"Come in, Abby, things are a little crazy here, but Peter says he's making progress." She ran her hands through her blond hair, straightening her skirt that crept up her thighs when unaware. She hadn't expected Abby or she would have changed. Most of the staff who showed up to work were men. Her philosophy was to always dress for the boys; you never knew when you might need them, or their money for that matter. A girl must be prepared to take care of herself at all times. And that often meant looking ahead to the next male opportunity around the corner.

Ginger Mae scampered quickly to catch up with Abby as she strolled without stopping to chat. _Figures_ , she thought venomously. Abby always made her feel like the hired help. As they approached Peter's office they could hear murmurings through the door. Abby opened the door before Ginger Mae could reach for it.

"Will you excuse us, please?" Abby looked archly at Ginger Mae, closing the door in her face. Ginger Mae steamed. _What's all the secrecy about?_ Peter would not let her in his office when he spoke on the phone, appearing vague when she asked questions. She knew it had something to do with hiring truckers for something. Her job consisted of editing the list of potential drivers and researching their police records on Peter's Lexus-Nexus program. A second group of drivers had to answer some very personal questions about their families and their pets. All potential candidates were funneled to Peter for salary negotiations and the specifics of what they would be hauling. That seemed to be the big secret. She put her ear to the door, hearing nothing. Miffed, she decided to go check on Daisy. She wanted to dress her up and bring her down to meet Abby. Maybe that would help the golden holier-than-thou ice queen melt.

Knocking on Daisy's bedroom door, the little girl came running. She threw her arms around Ginger Mae's legs, burying her bony dark-brown head in them. Ginger Mae untangled the child and lifted her up with Daisy wrapping her legs around Ginger Mae's waist.

"Hey, Daisy Chain. What's my girl doing?" Daisy looked up brightly, pointing to her storybooks spread on the floor. She might not speak, but Ginger had taught her to read and do numbers, something she had picked up at an early age. She now read on what Ginger Mae estimated to be a fifth-grade level. She had learned to add and subtract complex numbers over a year ago; single digits bored her. According to her age she should be ready for kindergarten. Ginger hadn't thought it necessary to enroll her yet, as she excelled far past anything she could learn in that kind of class. Crossing her fingers, she hoped to settle down here and find a more advanced placement for the child. Her child. Brushing Daisy's fine hair out of her face, she reminded herself that Daisy belonged to her, not her nonexistent brother. Sometimes she had trouble separating her own lies from reality.

"Daisy, I want you to wash your face and put on your Sunday dress with your white shoes. Hurry now," she said, leading the child into her bathroom. "I have someone special I want you to meet. We need to impress her, so put on your biggest smile."

Mother and daughter walked reverently down the art deco stairway to the foyer, where Daisy ran up to stroke the huge ornamental cats standing guard against the wall. Ginger still praised God for the luck she had stumbled on when she met Peter: landing in such a fine home in such a prestigious location. Things were still going well between them, but she did encounter trouble in claiming her share of his attention with Miss Ice Queen making him dance for her. Desperate to bring this relationship along, she needed to cultivate a deeper intimacy quickly, in case of catastrophe: Armoni finding out where she lived. Taking a chair near Peter's office, she boosted Daisy up on her lap to wait.

It took thirty minutes for his door to open. Daisy kicked off one of her shoes, trying to shove the other one down the front of her pinafore, sideways. At the click of the opening door, Ginger Mae jumped up, dumping Daisy on the floor with a thud. Scrambling, Ginger Mae bent over to help her daughter up, her skirt hiking itself to a dangerous level.

"And who do we have here?" It was Abby, coolly surveying the melee. Breathlessly, Ginger introduced her daughter as her niece.

"Well, I need to get back to work," Peter interrupted, mumbling a goodbye and returning to his office. _Thanks a lot,_ Ginger Mae thought indignantly. _I have to be left alone with the ice queen?_ She shook off her exasperation, suddenly realizing the atmosphere strummed with silence. Turning from Peter's door, she saw Daisy frozen, looking directly at Abby. Abby stood silently, just staring at the child. _What's going on?_ Ginger Mae nervously wondered as she stared at Abby's back. _Why doesn't Abby say something?_

From where Ginger Mae stood, she could clearly observe Daisy's face. The child had many expressions, her way of communicating with those in her limited world. But Ginger Mae didn't recognize this one. She watched as Abby raised her hand to her face. It returned to her side, clutching the ever-present sunglasses. She approached Daisy, who watched spellbound, her face a cipher. Ginger Mae moved forward, only to be cut off by Abby's hand held commandingly in the air, her back still to Ginger Mae. Abby's voice came clearly and casually from in front of her without turning her head.

"Ginger Mae, would you be kind enough to fetch me a glass of water?" Ginger Mae frowned, thinking she had heard Abby wrong. "Water?"

Abby nodded without turning.

"Certainly, right away." Ginger beat herself up, all the way to the kitchen. _Why do I lose it around Abby? I might as well get down on the floor and clean her shoes. I need to get a backbone, especially since I'm older than she is._ I _should be the one giving the orders—this is Peter's house and I am Peter's girlfriend._ Returning with the water, she saw Abby sitting on one of the chairs, her sunglasses in place, with Daisy at her feet.

"Come on, sweetie, the nice lady doesn't want to see you sitting on the floor."

"That's okay, Mommy, Abby doesn't mind."

The glass of water slipped from Ginger Mae's hand and crashed to the floor, forgotten, as she started to shake, tears flowing soundlessly from her eyes. She whispered, stunned, "Daisy?"

Smiling as if nothing was amiss, Daisy stood. She went to Abby and picked up her hand. Ginger was sure some kind of silent communication was going on. She sniffed the air, noticing a smell she couldn't identify.

"Baby, come here." Daisy put Abby's hand down and ran to Ginger Mae, throwing her arm around her neck as her mother picked her up. She turned to face Abby.

"Well," Abby said kindly, "I guess I'll leave you two ladies alone now."

"Will I see you again, Abby?" Daisy sounded anxious.

"Yes, my dear, we're going to be great friends." Smiling, Abby turned to leave the room without a word to the stunned Ginger Mae.

*

Abby returned to her own house, grateful that Peter was taking his new task seriously. He had made great progress, apparently finding it not as difficult as she feared it would be to locate truckers willing to do the job. For the right money, of course. An unexpected surprise pleased her to no end. A large number of the truckers were women. A wonderful stroke of luck. _Echo will be very happy when I report the news. That will make things easier in the long run._

But the most amazing turn was meeting Daisy. Abby knew instinctively she would become very important to her; to the mission. She didn't know how or why but she knew it was worth the risk to cure her. Examining her surprising reaction to the child, Abby felt forlorn. _What an odd reaction. Where did that come from?_ she wondered. Shaking her head, she pushed the mystery aside to consider Daisy. Of course, that now meant she would have to add the questionable Ginger Mae to her plans. She had always planned to include Peter, so it should be no problem. She hoped Jose would understand. She missed having him home, but understood he must resolve the problems with the rest of his missing family. And she certainly wanted them to be safe. She just hoped he would hurry home so she didn't have to make a change of plans regarding Mama Diaz and the girls. Now it was time to do some explaining to Scotty and prepare for the Cobbys.

Entering the kitchen, she noticed Scotty asleep on the terrace. She stepped outside to call in the dogs. Echo followed, riding on Barney's back with Mimi scampering alongside, trying in vain to jump up on Barney to join Echo. Scotty woke up, stretched, and joined her in the kitchen, taking a comfortable seat at the table, his elbows on the marble top. She noted his hands had a slight tremor. Seating herself next to him, she covered his hands with her own, a gesture that usually reassured him.

"You know, don't you?" She faced him directly as he bowed his head.

"I don't know much, Ab, but I think something is going to happen. Something bad, something scary." He looked up, his face suddenly exposing a hint of the man he would become. "I think we are part of it somehow, aren't we? At the sanctuary, I felt like I was being sent some kind of a message. The tiger. He meant something to me. I could feel him. Do you know about any of this?"

Echo climbed up onto the table, her face expressionless. Abby felt the aura in her mind as Echo spoke to Scotty. "It is almost time, Brother. We are preparing. You will have a part as time draws near. The mission has changed. We can only save a few, as time grows short."

"Abby, what's going to happen?" He read the guilty expression on her face. "You know, don't you? Echo, why have you hidden this from me? Don't I have a right to know?" His fist pounded on the marble; frustration, sorrow and confusion fighting their way across the planes of his suddenly colorless face. "It's not fair. How much more can we take?"

"We will all prevail, Brother Scotty. I have chosen my Brothers and my Sister well. I waited for over a century." Echo withdrew, scrambling off the table to join Barney, letting Barney rest his head on her tiny lap while Mimi tried to insert herself between the two of them. Penny slumbered, oblivious as usual.

"Scotty, I only learned of it a few days ago. I too received a message. You through a tiger, me, a woman or a spirit. I'm not sure what she was. She looked a lot like us, though. Her body showed changes, only more developed. She showed me what must be done. But I don't know what's going to happen. Only a rough idea of when. We must collect these animals and go back home."

"What? Are you crazy? I'm not going back home. I'm just starting to have a life here." He stood, dumping his chair over on its back. "Wait, are we being given any choice here?"

"No, we have no choice. If we stay here, we'll die. I think you know we have to do this. Try to be strong, Scotty. We'll learn more when the time comes. But I need your help now. In a few minutes, Kane and his father will be here. They'll be instrumental to us. It's going to be difficult, but I think I might need to reveal ourselves to get their cooperation. They need to go with us. I don't think I can do this without them."

"Can't Echo just wave her tail or speak to the Womb and make everything better?" Scotty sounded like he was going to cry.

"No, hon, I don't think that is what everything is all about. It's bigger and deeper. And way out of Echo's control."

They startled, hearing a tap on the French doors. Scotty rose to let Kane and his father in. Captain Cobby pulled up a chair, looking from Abby to Scotty, seeing their long faces. "Who died?"

The tension in the room tightened. Abby rose, saying nothing. Matter-of-factly, she went to the ornate walnut sideboard which dominated the kitchen. She returned to the table with a bottle of brandy. "Scotty, can you please get me the glasses?"

Returning with the snifters, Scotty watched Abby pour them all a generous shot. Kane looked between their faces. "Are we celebrating something?"

Abby could see the confusion and tentative smiles on their faces. She just did not know how to tell them. The silence lengthened. She could see a slow dawning on Captain Cobby's face, as he sensed the serious intent behind her invitation. She started slowly.

"I need you both to know you have been a great help to us in the short time we've lived here."

"We're getting fired," Kane blurted. His father put his hand on his arm, quieting him. Abby smiled, the tension released.

"No, of course not. You are almost part of our family now. I asked you to come over because I need your help with something deadly serious." Abby's voice strengthened with resolve. She spoke slowly and quietly. "I know I can trust you both, but I must have your oath that this will remain between us. If you decide you can't help me, so be it. But I am confident you will see things my way."

"Well, you sound very mysterious. You have our word. Why don't you just come out and ask us?" Captain Cobby motioned his head upward, a sign of encouragement.

"Okay. In about two weeks, I'm having some trucks here to deliver wildlife that I hope to load onto the yacht and have you deliver to Tampa. I will have a private jet on standby at the airport to fly us all to Newark Airport where we will join another convoy. The two of you, along with Scotty, Peter and his girlfriend, her niece and the dogs will go on to Sussex where Jose and I will join you later. The animals will be offloaded and you will take them to safety with you. Scotty will show you where. I am inviting you to stay with us." Abby looked at three blank faces, realization suddenly dawning on Scotty's face. He opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut, saying nothing.

"Wow, that sounds like a pretty big job. Just what kind of animals are we talking?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. They'll be big. Lots of cats, some camels, goats, some bears, some smaller wildlife." Her voice tapered off as she saw the expressions on their faces.

"Are you kidding me? We can't fit cages for those kinds of animals on the boat. We don't have that kind of room. And where exactly are you getting them from?" Kane's eyes suddenly lit up as he glanced at Scotty.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened at the cat sanctuary today?"

Abby and Scotty were silent. The captain's eyes narrowed, suspicion doing a slow bloom on his face. As she expected it would.

"I don't understand why you want us to live with you in your old town, we live here. I don't want to move. My friends are here, our life is here." Kane looked incredulous.

"Abby, you aren't stealing these animals are you?" Captain Cobby's voice remained low and calm.

"Yes. Yes, I am," she said succinctly.

"But why? Why would you want to do that?" Shaking his handsome head disbelievingly, Captain Cobby took a sip of his brandy. "This does not sound like the Abby I thought I knew."

Sighing deeply, Abby knew the time had come. She pointed over to the dogs. "Do you see Echo over there? I'm sorry but we had to lie to you. Our father was not a famous scientist. He was a no-good bastard who left us when Scotty was seven. Echo is a fully functioning natural creature. She can do many wondrous things. Such as heal. As a child I contracted a life-threatening illness. She cured me. As a result, I was given certain powers and certain responsibilities. The animals are part of the responsibilities. Something horrible is going to happen. Millions will be killed. It's part of Echo's assignment to do this. If you come with us you'll be safe from the threat."

Abby saw that she wasn't getting through to them. Kane had a look of embarrassment on his face. His father was laughing.

"Echo's assignment? Abby, you sure know how to tell a good one. You had me going for a while." The captain slapped his knee and punched Kane in the arm. "What do you think of that, boy?" Kane looked around uncertainly.

Abby slowly rose. She took off her sunglasses, the golden rainbow swirls from her eyes lighting up the room. At their shocked faces, she raised her hands over her head, stripping off her shirt, exposing her fine golden fur, just like Echo. Without turning, she shook out her wings which had grown to almost adult size. They were dumbstruck, flickers of fear in their eyes. She nodded to Scotty. He rose. With an audible deep breath, he dropped his glasses and removed his shirt.

"Holy shit!"

No one said another word. Abby just let them look and absorb. They stared at Echo as if seeing her for the first time. They downed their brandy. Abby forced herself not to speak. Instead, she picked up the bottle, calmly refilling everyone's glasses. She folded her wings against her body, replaced her shirt and sat down. The mundane gesture seemed to calm everyone down. Scotty remained standing as if ready to take flight. Abby reached out and pulled him down into his seat. No one spoke.

The silence hung in the air like a rubber balloon, stretched beyond its limits, ready to rupture. For some reason, Mimi chose this moment to waddle over to the table and scratch on Scotty's chair, her little half-blind bug eyes demanding attention. Scotty bent down to pick her up. He set her on his lap so she could sit up and see everyone. He kissed her tenderly on her head. The tension broke.

" _I knew it._ I knew there was something odd about you. I caught a glimpse of your ah, your unusualness the other night when you took a swim with the dogs." Kane looked pleased to have his suspicions confirmed.

Abby couldn't resist asking. "Why didn't you mention it to anyone? You kept his secret?"

"Yeah, dude, you covered for me."

Kane's face turned red, his shoulders trying to shrug off the moment. "It's nothing."

"Do you think you might put your glasses back on, guys? I seem to be having some trouble concentrating while I look at you."

They did as the captain asked. "Well," he continued, stopping to clear his throat. He paused, taking another gulp of the brandy. "I have a million questions that, I guess, can wait. But I think this calls for us to talk about how we are going to be able to fit all this wildlife on the boat."

Abby broke out in a torrent of tears. She jumped up from her seat to run to Captain Cobby. He stood and grabbed her in a bear hug. She sobbed all over his shirt, breaking down about how hard it had been for them, how lonely, they couldn't make friends, she missed her mother, how scared she always was. Captain Cobby held her until she slowed down, stroking her thick hair and telling her it would be okay. They were there for her. Looking into his competent reassuring face, she knew they had a chance now.

# Chapter 10

Ginger Mae swam in Peter's jazzy heated pool, built in the shape of a sea gull with its wings wide open. She tried to convince Daisy to join her in the water at the shallow end. But Daisy was afraid of the water.

"No, Mommy, I'm not ready yet. I need to work up more nerve, besides Peter gave me these books about vampires. I want to read them. I'm going to sit in the shade and read Dracula. It's very old. You stay in and enjoy yourself." Daisy sounded adorable. Adult conversation in a tiny little-girl voice.

"Okay, Daisy Chain. Let me know if you decide to go inside." Ginger Mae swam to the other end of the pool, looking tanned and fit, thanks to her daily swims. It had been almost two weeks since Daisy had started to talk. Ginger Mae was amazed every time she opened her mouth. She could now see she had greatly underestimated her daughter. Her IQ must be much higher than she had realized. She had shocked them both when they found her trying to climb the shelves in Peter's library to reach one of Peter's old college textbooks—on physics, no less. Peter hadn't seemed particularly impressed when he learned Daisy could speak. Of course he'd only known her for two days at the time. He didn't seem to understand these words were the first she had ever spoken.

Things were starting to progress nicely. Their project seemed pretty much complete, except for the pickup, whatever that meant. Peter had started to take an interest in Daisy's education since he had learned she was a prodigy. The two of them were becoming great buddies. _That's half the battle_. As soon as they completed the pickup on Abby's project, they were going to shop for a school for Daisy.

Her personal relationship with Peter still proceeded slowly. The sex was alright, it wasn't that. But he treated her like a delicate flower. It could be downright annoying sometimes. It made it hard to really bond with him. She wasn't a delicate flower. And until he realized it, they would never develop the kind of relationship that would stand the stress of obstacles that might come their way. Like Armoni. She was dying to confess some of her history to him so he wouldn't go into shock at the wrong time—when she needed him to be strong. She had dropped a few oblique hints, but he hadn't picked up on them. She still couldn't believe she had slipped away from Armoni so easily. Perhaps her past prevented her from fully bonding with Peter, fully convinced the shoe would drop sooner or later.

In the meantime, she tried to be as indispensable as possible. She had learned never to say no to anything Peter asked of her. She knew all the names of the truckers and their histories. She was an excellent messenger as she made her way between the homes several times a day. Her relationship with Abby, if you could call it that, thawed about 10 percent. But that did count as an improvement. _I will wear that bitch down sooner or later, even if I have to use Daisy to do it._

Clearly, Abby harbored some sort of interest in Daisy. She had discovered Daisy huddled with Abby in her study one day. She hadn't even known Daisy had left the house. She wondered how Daisy even knew where to find Abby. She was only five years old, after all.

One day, while Ginger Mae gave her report to Abby, Daisy wandered out of the study. Ginger Mae found her in the kitchen with the dogs. She could see Scotty, Abby's brother, outside on the terrace with his girlfriend, Chloe. The girl seemed to be with Scotty all the time. Cute couple but Chloe seemed a bit young.

The most amazing thing happened while she tried to round up Daisy from the kitchen. In walked this funny little creature. She would have thought it was a cat or a monkey, except for the odd long lion tail, or the shining— _was that glass_?—antlers and what looked like deformed or broken leather wings sprouting from its back. And the creature's eyes, something was definitely wrong with the poor thing, it must be sick. Grabbing Daisy, she tried to drag her away.

"No, Mommy, I want to stay here. Please don't call my friend an _it_. I love her. Echo, tell my mommy we're friends."

The creature just stood silently, her eyes giving Ginger Mae a stomachache.

Ginger Mae wondered if Echo might be the _scumbag mother fuckin' freaky pet_ that Armoni had always complained about. The one he had said he wanted to stomp.

Suspicion shrouded her every waking moment as she realized something very odd occupied Peter and Abby at that house. She had accepted Daisy's sudden speech appearance as a coincidence. If she hadn't been in the kitchen getting water for Abby, Ginger Mae would have been with her daughter when it happened. _Interesting—Abby suddenly needing a drink of water. Maybe that was to get me out of the room. But for what purpose?_ Peter had let slip that Abby and Scotty were filthy rich, but he wouldn't tell her why. Father deserted, mother recently deceased. She heard talk of Abby's boyfriend, Jose, yet she never saw him around. She wondered if he wore the constant sunglasses too. Peter said they had a genetic infection thing—couldn't tolerate light. If anyone needed sunglasses, it was that sick little creature in the kitchen.

"Mommy, I'm going back in the house."

Ginger Mae swam back to Daisy's end of the pool. She watched her daughter rise from her lounge chair and put on her little robe. Her heart swelled with pride. _How did I ever produce such a wonder?_

"Okay, baby." She boosted herself up and out of the pool, not bothering with the stairs. "I'm just going to lie in the sun for a few more minutes. If you see Peter, tell him I'll be starting dinner in an hour. Pork chops, okay?"

Nodding and kissing her mother, Daisy trotted off, book in hand. Ginger Mae settled in, comfortable in her lounge chair, the sun sending a sleepy languid sultriness into her body. _Umm_ , she thought, _I might just have to seduce Peter before dinner_. A smile spread itself sexily across her face.

A hand from nowhere slapped itself down on her mouth. A voice from hell asked, "Got any of those pork chops for me, you two-timin' thievin' cunt?"

*

Scotty walked down to the beach within eyeshot of Chloe's father's mansion. He waved goodbye to Kane as he headed back to the boat to help with the modifications needed for the animals. It hadn't been easy keeping his horrible secret from Chloe. They had spent time together almost every day since the excursion to the cat sanctuary. Sometimes Kane joined them when he wasn't needed by his father. The three of them had developed an infectious camaraderie which helped sustain Scotty and Kane as their mission approached. Then he thought of Chloe. When he was with her, he sometimes forgot what a freak he had become. When they laughed at the same silly things, he almost felt like his life could be normal. Today was Chloe's birthday. She would be sixteen.

Today, her father planned a big party for her at a swank hotel downtown. He hoped he hadn't damaged Chloe's feelings too much when he'd declined to come. He understood her anxiousness for him to meet her father and he felt flattered, but Abby just would not let him risk exposure. He got it. The last thing he wanted was to be the object of ridicule in front of a bunch of giggling teenage girls that he didn't know. Kane would attend, though, and had agreed to help Scotty pass Chloe a note, asking her to meet him on the beach near her house, after her party.

*

The party had ended two hours ago and he still waited.

Kane joined him on the beach to report on the celebrations. He admitted his own discomfort—swank parties were not his scene. He mentioned Chloe's agitation, aggravated by the presence of a gorgeous woman at her father's side. It seemed her father had himself a girlfriend. It had certainly taken the attention off Chloe. Scotty knew she would be bummed out by that. She complained over and over about not getting enough time with her father as it was. She was really psyched to have him at her party. Scotty thought her father sounded like an insensitive ass, just like his own father. Just because her father didn't beat her or humiliate her didn't mean she didn't feel the damage.

The sun made its inevitable slide under the horizon. He glanced at his watch, aware of the lateness of the hour, knowing he needed to go home. Tomorrow stood to be a stressful day. He felt excited and scared—and very sad. He planned to say goodbye to Chloe after he gave her his special birthday present, one of the few things he owned that held any meaning. He raised his head. In the distance he could hear the sound of a soft lawnmower. Rising to his feet he spotted her running toward him down the beach, rascally Teddy at her heels. She arrived breathlessly.

"Hi, sorry I'm so late," she gasped, trying to catch her breath. "The darn reporters. They just wouldn't let us alone. My father had some doll face with him. It might have been nice if he'd have warned me about her before my birthday. Reporters crashed the party and took over." She sighed, throwing back her head and scrunching her eyes shut. "Thanks, Dad, swell party. It's bad enough my mom couldn't be there, but I guess he's already replaced her." Her bitterness threatened to overwhelm the special moment Scotty had long anticipated.

"Hey, babe, it's your night now. Just the two of us. Isn't that what you want?"

" _Yes_. Let's forget about everyone else. Just us—oh, and Ted." She bent down to pick him up and gave him a little toss in the air, catching him and hugging him to her chest. "He's my guy."

"And I thought I was the one."

Throwing her hands around his neck, she demanded impishly. "So, where's my birthday kiss?" Scotty laughed at her irrepressible nature. She never stayed down for long. He felt like a man dying of gloom who had just found a cocktail of sunshine. She helped him forget.

Pulling her down on the sand, he gave her a quick peck on her cheek.

"Are you kidding me? Come here, you." She swept Teddy away and stood on her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I know you can do better than that."

Laughing, tired of teasing her, he showed her that he could, planting a long slow one on her lips. After they stopped rolling around in the sand, he picked up his gift for her.

"I have a birthday present for you."

She smiled, her eyes alight with the excitement of first love.

"I see you do."

"I want you to know that this is one of the oldest things I own. It's very special to me. It gave hope to me and my mother for a long time, back when we were poor. And it was a big part of my childhood. I hope you will think of me whenever you wear it."

Chloe's face looked somber as she took the small package, unwrapping it to expose a black velvet jewelry box. She glanced quizzically up at Scotty. Opening it up, nestled against the velvet, lay an old gold coin, mounted on a platinum and gold bezel. Scotty lifted it out of the box, unclasping the heavy platinum and gold chain that held the coin, placing it around Chloe's neck. "I hope you like it."

"Like it? You must be kidding. It's gorgeous. I love it. I love it because it was yours and you cared to give it to me." Looking down, she said, "You know I'm crazy about you."

He reached out his hand, tipping her face up to his. His lip softly met hers as his tears slid down his cheeks. He broke off, wiping them away.

"Scotty, what's wrong?"

He looked at her with eyes deeply filled with anguish. "I have to say goodbye, Chloe."

"What do you mean?" Her voice sounded tiny with confusion. "Are you saying we have to break up?"

"No. I would _never_ want to do that. We're moving back home tomorrow."

"You gotta be kidding me. Why so sudden? Why did you wait so long to tell me?" She gripped his hand painfully. " _Tomorrow_? I just don't understand." She touched her necklace. Scotty stayed silent, lost for words. "Can we please talk about this, Scotty?"

"I can't change anything, Chloe. And I can't explain. You wouldn't understand."

"How do you know if you don't give me a chance?" Her voice screeched incredulously as he grabbed her head with both his hands, pulling her toward him. He held his lips to her forehead.

"You have to know how much this hurts, Chloe. Please try. Try to understand. I don't want to hurt you. I would do anything to prevent that. I wish you could come with me."

Chloe pushed him away, anger bubbling to the surface. "Don't be ridiculous, you know I can't come with you. What would my father say? You're not giving me anything to go on. What's the big secret?" She stared at Scotty, his face giving him away. "There _is_ a secret, _isn't there_? Why can't you tell me? I tell you everything. Don't you trust me?"

Scotty clammed up, then: "I'm not like you, Chloe."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what I said." He knew he sounded bitter. All the frustrations of the last few years suddenly overflowed, Scotty unable to hold back. "You want to know why? You want to know what the secret is. Just remember that I love you and never wanted to hurt you." His bitterness out of control, he whipped off his shades. In the darkness, his eyes dazzled. Teddy froze, then opined with his ear-splitting bark.

"Interesting. That's all you've got for me? Just your weird eye disease? Ted, please." She picked up Teddy and attempted to comfort him. "You've got to do better than that."

Scotty shook his head back and forth. "I appreciate your unimpressed attitude, but I don't think you want to know anymore."

Chloe suddenly set Teddy down. Her face showed her outrage. "Let me ask you a question, Scott Preston. And I want the truth. Does Kane know about this?"

"Yes," he whispered. She started to cry. "No, please don't cry. I was afraid to tell you. I thought it would scare you away. And now you hate me anyway."

"I don't hate you, you big dummy," she sniffled. "You trust Kane more than me. I feel like a fool. It's a little odd, but it's just a little disease, for Pete's sake."

"It's not a disease."

She looked up, wiping her eyes with the bottom of her shirt. "Well, what is it then?" Rising, he did the only thing he could to explain. He removed his shirt, flexed his tail and let his fully developed resplendent wings unfold from his body. She looked up with big eyes, her mouth wide open. Teddy had no problem voicing his opinion.

" _Oh-my-God_." She backed up on the sand. "Are you an angel?"

Scotty flexed his wings, feeling how good it was to be free of his shirt. Furling them back against his body, he put his shirt back on. Replacing his shades, he sat morosely on the sand. He rubbed his hands over his face, stifling a sob.

"I'm not an angel, I don't know what I am anymore. I just want to be a normal guy like I used to be. Something bad is going to happen. We don't know what. But we have to leave to prepare for it. My sister wants to save the animals from the Big Cat Sanctuary. I do too. And then we're leaving. That's all I know." He sounded drained, even to himself. Quietly, he added, "You can come if you want. It would make me very happy if you did."

"Does Abby know you have wings?"

"Yes. She has them too. So does Jose."

He heard Chloe swallow.

"Can you fly?"

"I haven't tried. Not exactly discreet."

She nodded, agreeing. He thought she might be accepting it. Not that it mattered all that much, he was leaving after all. But it would be nice if they could part without her mad at him. "Are you still mad at me?"

"I guess not. I'm very sorry this happened to you. I wish you could stay. Maybe we could get to the bottom of this." She sounded hopeless.

He stood, drawing her into an embrace. He could tell she knew that wouldn't happen. He knew by her tears as they soaked into his shirt. The moon came out, illuminating the sand, shining brightly on the confused young sweethearts being torn apart by forces bigger than themselves.

*

Abby reviewed the details of the rescue from her study. They planned to start very early in the morning, hoping to catch everyone unawares, before the volunteers or tourists arrived. Peter had just left. He came alone to update her. Nothing much had changed, the update was unnecessary. Her curiosity piqued, she wondered why he had thought it was needed. Ginger Mae had always been the one to run messages since Abby preferred to have the information in person, not over the cell. You never knew who might be listening. Funny, Peter hadn't really said much of anything. So unlike him. The assignment must have taken a toll on him. Or could it be the effects of the implant? He looked bad. Tired and wrinkled. Just not himself.

She made a note to drop in on them tonight. Maybe it was time to reveal herself and remove the implant. Once they saw the urgency, she was sure they would fall into line, anxious to save themselves. And Daisy, of course. Daisy hadn't been over to see Abby in quite a while. Tapping her finger on her writing desk, she realized that was out of the ordinary too.

She glanced at her watch, anxious to call Jose, who had finally located Mama Diaz and the girls. He had been delayed while one of the girls finished participating in an event at school, proud she could show off to Jose. Inadvertently, the event had played into her plans, keeping them from getting underfoot while she planned the rescue.

Now the time had come to break the news to Jose. She couldn't afford to let him return home. She called the airline, cancelling their flights to Florida. Change of plans. She wanted Jose to take them back to the house on Lily Pond Road where they could wait safely. Dialing Jose's cell, she heard him pick up. Taking a deep breath she started to talk.

An hour later she turned off her cell. Jose had agreed to return to Lily Pond Road. They were willing to await her explanations when she herself arrived. Jose hadn't taken it well. Actually, he hit the roof. Somehow, she had convinced him of the urgency, concluding with the surprise that she planned to bring other people with her. That had really stumped him. Especially when she told him she had disclosed their condition to the Cobbys. That had rendered him speechless. Wasting no time, she had concluded their conversation with a quick, "I love you," and said goodbye, checking off one more worry.

Pausing to rub her back where her wings were aching, she wondered where she could find Echo. The enigmatic creature had become her greatest source of comfort these last few days. She didn't need to pretend with Echo but found moral support. Echo helped prop her shoulders up when they desperately wanted to sag. _Well, I can't put it off any longer. I better get the visit to Peter out of the way._

Crossing between the two houses, she ducked under the palms. She stood on Peter's doorstep, ringing the doorbell. _Where is he?_ She could see light and shadows moving through his leaded glass doors. She rang again. Finally, the door opened.

"Hi, I just dropped by to make sure we're ready to go."

Peter bounced back and forth between his feet like a child trying to hold his urine. "Go? Where we going?" He took her hand and pulled her into the room, shutting the door.

"Coffee? Is there something I can do for you?" Peter noisily dragged a Frank Lloyd Wright chair to the living room sofa, leaving obvious scratches in the imported Brazilian hardwood floor. Abby stared at the scratches.

"No, thank you." Abby frowned, taken aback at the formality of the question. They had talked about nothing but the rescue for weeks. _What's wrong with him?_ Looking closer at Peter, she saw sweat beading on his forehead. His Oxford shirt showed damp sweat rings. An odor redolent of moldy wet hay clung to him. _Is he sick?_ Peter did not appear to be listening. His focus seemed to be out the window, overlooking the lawn currently being mowed by Louis, their Latino groundskeeper, fully engrossed in gyrating his torso to the silent tunes on his earphones.

" _Peter_!" Reeling his attention back inside the room, he stared slack-mouthed at Abby.

"What's the matter with you?" Abby stood up, disappointment and concern in her voice. "If you're sick, call a doctor. Pull yourself together. Take a shower for God's sake and call me later."

"Now, now, Abby, don't be so hasty, I—"

"No, Peter, I'll see you later." Abby slammed the front door, letting her body language speak for her. She wondered if she had made a mistake about Peter. Her mind reeled with the implications. This was so unlike him. Was something wrong? Was this a result of Ginger Mae's effect on him? Or was it the implant? _I better go find Echo_.

# Chapter 11

Peter followed Abby; his eyes bleary from the sidelights flanking the leaded-glass double doors. Holding his breath, he said a desperate prayer asking God to help him get out of this alive. From the kitchen, he heard the click of a gun being cocked. Exhaling, he turned around, knowing exactly what awaited him.

There Armoni stood on the black porcelain floor, perfectly at home wearing Peter's silk dressing gown; a knife he called 'Kelly's favorite baby' in one hand, a shiny new Austrian semi-automatic Glock in the other.

"You did good for a little faggot. Now get your swishy fag ass in here."

Peter hurried into the kitchen where Daisy and Ginger Mae sat strapped to chairs. Ginger Mae had taken the brunt of Armoni's psychotic anger. Her swollen face, turned black and blue, bore a deep knife slash from her forehead to her lip, which hung partially detached from her face. Crusted blood dripped from her neck to her waist. Since last night, no one had been allowed to sleep. The whole sordid story had come out about Ginger Mae and Armoni. He had held a knife to Daisy's throat while he forced Ginger Mae to recite to Peter every vile sexual act she had done for him.

Daisy was in bad shape too. When Ginger Mae had refused to cooperate with Armoni, he had turned to the child, backhanding her across the face. He had knocked her into the corner of a heavy metal table and she had lain unconscious on the floor. Peter tried to make her as comfortable as possible while Armoni railed at Ginger Mae. She had come round after Peter applied a compress to her head wound, but hadn't uttered a word since. She just sat apathetically, tied to a chair next to Ginger Mae. Peter feared she might have a concussion.

He had recognized Armoni as soon as he got a good look at him. You didn't forget a face like that. He remembered the appalling moment.

" _You're_ the one who came into my office, hassling my secretary, asking about Abby and Jose."

"Yeah, and I'm the one that _fucked_ her too." He leered at Peter, oblivious to the saliva spraying from his mouth.

"What? What do you mean? She's dead." A sickening feeling developed in his stomach.

"Yeah, sorry about that. How'd ya think I found out where you were?" He cackled as Peter's stomach dropped to the floor. At that point, he realized they might not survive this.

It had soon became clear what Armoni wanted. He seemed to have a grudge against Abby. And the gold, of course. _I guess it always comes back to money._

"Pay attention, college boy. I asked you if you've figured out how to get access to their bank accounts?"

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" Peter wobbled visibly, unsteady through lack of sleep, food or water. He thought he heard a click from the foyer. Attempting to draw Armoni's attention from the front of the house, he moved to a chair against the wall, away from Daisy and Ginger Mae. His heart thudded maddeningly with the slim hope that the sound might represent salvation. He prayed it might be Abby, even as he worried about drawing her into this. Maybe she had caught onto something when she visited before.

"What's it going to be, college boy? Or am I going to have to show you how serious I am?" Peter notice a golden glow coming from the foyer. He had to distract Armoni.

"You sure think you're the big man with that gun in your hand, don't you?" Peter stood as Armoni started to laugh. He reached out, punching Peter in the stomach.

"You're just lucky I need you right now, faggot, or I'd be having a party with Kelly's favorite baby all over your stupid face."

Peter coughed from the blow, trying to get his breath. In the haze of his clouded vision, a tiny funny looking creature with eyes that sparkled with swirling colors appeared, entering the kitchen from the foyer. It sported antlers that caught the light like pieces of red and black crystal. Then Abby stepped into his view. She was unarmed. _No, oh my God, what's going to happen now?_

Armoni must have sensed something. Turning, he started with welcome surprise.

"Well, well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes. Now I won't need this dumb shit anymore." He raised the Glock and took aim at Peter.

In a split second, all hell broke loose. The creature's antlers split open, spilling out a blood-red swarm of something that hit Armoni right in the face. Before their eyes, Armoni's flesh melted down to the bone, organs and all. His skeleton teetered before crashing to the floor, still covered by the blood-red substance. When it was clear there was nothing left but bone, the substance formed into a swarm again, returning to the creature's antlers, which melded seamlessly together. A stunned silence followed.

Abby carefully walked into the room, her head turning from one to another, horror forcing her to her knees, trying to hold back dry heaves. The little creature rushed to her side as if to console her. Peter turned to Ginger Mae. She was so out of it, she probably didn't know Armoni was dead. He forced himself onto his wobbly legs, feeling like his bones had turned to liquid. With a pitiful effort, he made it over to Daisy, struggling with her restraints. She lolled passively without a sound. He picked her up, struggling with her weight, trying to contain his own adrenalin. Getting her to the sofa, he laid her down gently, collapsing at her feet as his chattering muscles gave out.

"We have to get them a doctor." He reached for Armoni's cellphone lying on the sofa table.

"No." The command came from Abby. "Put the phone down, Peter." He stared at her as if she had just said Armoni's skeleton wanted to make a call first.

"Are you out of your mind? They need a doctor. You don't know what we've been through. Did you know that man?" He could hear himself getting hysterical, the shock of what had happened finally setting in. "He was going to kill us. He was a fiend. And what the heck is that creature you have there? Where did it come from . . .? Abby, please, we need some help . . ." His voice trailed off weakly, his body slumped, burned out.

"It'll be okay, Peter. I'll see to everything." She sounded achingly tired. He watched as she got up and rummaged for a bottle and glass in his liquor cabinet. Filling it, she brought it to Peter.

"Water, please?"

She returned to Peter with the water.

"Do you think you can sew up her lip?" She gestured over to Ginger Mae. Peter looked her over, pursing his lips.

"Abby, I'm not a doctor. She needs a plastic surgeon. Why can't we call a doctor?" Abby patted his hand wearily, then dragged herself over to look at Ginger Mae. She removed her restraints and tipped her head back to see her swollen face. Peter winced at the damage caused by Armoni. Abby went to the sink, then returned with a cold cloth. As she rested it on Ginger Mae's head, she moaned. Abby wiped away the obvious blood on her face. Her lip was in bad shape but could be stitched. No one would ever refer to her as lovely again, Peter could see that. "She's coming round." Abby got up to get her some water.

"Her bruises will fade. You can stitch her lip." She fed some water to Ginger Mae and was rewarded with a demand for more. Letting her hold the glass in her unsteady hands, Abby sat down. She looked very tense, her nervous hands constantly going to her head to run her fingers through her thick white-gold hair. He saw her glance at the strange creature in the foyer. It just stood there, watching Abby. _What the heck is it?_

"Come here, Echo." The creature made its jerky way over to Abby where it climbed up her chair, turning its head halfway around its body to give him a quick look before settling itself on Abby's lap. She put her arm around the creature and hugged it. Her lips brushed the creature's head tenderly. Together, they turned and looked at him. Abby gave him an inscrutable smile. He suddenly felt like an ant sizzling under a magnifying glass.

"Peter, this is Echo. She's an important part of our family. She just saved your butts. That fiend who was going to shoot you? That's his skeleton over there. The doctors and the cops are not going to understand when you try to tell them it beat up Ginger Mae. They'll think you did it. And they'll still want to know where the skeleton came from. I've no doubt one or all of us will wind up in jail. So I'm going to give you a choice. The cops and jail, or stitch her lip so we can get on with it. One more detail. If you choose to call the cops I can guarantee that you will die, along with the cops and everyone else in this state. Your only chance is to come with me." Taking off her glasses, Peter gawked. Abby's eyes assailed him with the same swirls of golden color as the creature's eyes. _My God, what is this?_

Peter thought his mind risked breaking. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He heard a crash and saw Ginger Mae's glass, broken on the floor, her eyes ready to pop out of her sockets. Her swollen mouth emanated meaningless sounds. Struggling to her feet she made her way to the sofa next to him and Daisy. From the foyer they heard a knock and a man's voice called out for Abby.

"In here, Cobby." Captain Cobby entered, calmly surveying the room. "When I realized something was amiss here, I called the Captain. I filled him in and he agreed to be on standby if I needed his assistance convincing you to do what was in your own best interests."

She added gently, "If you want to survive, that is. Captain Cobby will stay and answer all your questions. Echo and I need to get back to the house. Peter, I trust you ordered the extra cash for tomorrow's rescue?"

He nodded, slowly. "It's in the safe in the attic. What do we need the cash for?" Peter realized he was already calming down and coming to see the merits of her suggestion. Not hard, with a human skeleton lying in the middle of the floor.

"Bribes." Abby rose, the creature in her arms. _Echo_ , he repeated the name to himself. "I will see you early in the morning, as we planned. Have Ginger Mae pack you all a bag with enough clothes for a few days. You may bring one sentimental item with you. And may I suggest a book? Take the bags down to Captain Cobby on the boat. We'll be leaving sometime after noon. Be ready or we must leave you behind. I'm going to put you in good hands. Cobby will explain further."

She rose from her seat, slipping her glasses back on. When she passed Captain Cobby, Peter watched them hug, Abby appeared to be sobbing in his arms. Straightening, she left. Captain Cobby moved into the room, making himself comfortable in the chair vacated by Abby.

"Well, my boy." Captain Cobby's voice broke with husky emotion, "How 'bout you giving us all a double shot of whatever you have in the house? It's going to be a long story and you look like you could sure use it."

# Chapter 12

Abby rolled out of bed at the same time as the sun decided to yawn its rays over the eastern horizon. The stomachs of the butterflies in her stomach fluttered with their own butterflies. She got dressed and ran down the hall to wake Scotty. Echo was all ready to go, her little fanny pack strapped firmly around her waist. Abby could tell Scotty hadn't slept well, his fur was matted and ratty. His face looked as bad as a child who has discovered the fairy had forgotten to leave a dollar under his pillow after taking his tooth away.

"Come on, kiddo, up and at 'em. You look like your best friend died. We'll get through this."

*

After letting out the posse, Scotty fed them and lined up leashes on the terrace with boxes of dog food. He decided the posse could use Penny's doggy bed to sleep on. He didn't know how comfortable it would be for them on the boat. Returning inside for the doggie bed, he saw Chloe had left Teddy's old afghan in Penny's bed. Tossing it aside, he thought, _no time for that now_. Abby entered, carrying two bags with their clothes and a few photos of their mother. The supplies would be picked up by Kane and taken to the boat. They decided to use Scotty's Jeep for the rescue. It could hold an extra animal or two, if need be.

"Can you drive or are you too nervous?" Abby ran her hand up and down his arm for encouragement.

"I'll be okay. I can drive." Scotty met her eyes with his own. "I just don't understand how we're going to get the bears and cats to load themselves on the trucks. We need experts to handle this. What are we going to do? Say pretty please, jump on these trucks and come with us?"

"Actually, that's _exactly_ what we're going to do." She smiled securely at Scotty.

"Ab, I don't think this is the time for jokes and I am sorely not in the mood." He kicked their waiting bags in anger, his eyes blazing.

_Poor Scotty_ , she thought. _This can't be easy for him, having to leave Chloe behind_. She had done her best, trying to protect him by keeping him out of the loop. He knew nothing about what had happened at Peter's house. She could fill him in about that later, but she had better give him a few details to calm him down.

"Do you see the substance floating in Echo's antlers?" Scotty nodded. "You understand the substance had something to do with Tomas and Kelly's death?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, with Echo's help, I can isolate individual particles and direct them into any living creature. They enter the brain through the ear canal. They're able to interfere with the brain signals that regulate comprehension and free will. It makes them calm and easy to direct. You can control them. After Echo sends out the implants, the animal will just calmly mount the backs of the trucks and then the boat. The implants will stay in until I feel it's okay to release them. It could be years."

"Years? Why would you need to do that? Just what is really going on here, Abby? What do you mean _years_?" Scotty banged his fist on the table, making her jump. "I swear, if you don't come clean with me, _I'm not going_!"

"Okay, okay." Speaking slowly, she watched his face closely, praying he wouldn't freak out. They didn't have the time for this. "We're not going to back to Sussex, to our old home, to live there."

"For Pete's sake. Where are we going to live?"

She bowed her head, silent and overwhelmed.

"Abby," Scotty called more loudly.

Understanding, Echo interceded, her aura reaching out to envelop their minds. "Brother Scotty, the Womb has invited us all to survive the coming apocalypse in the safety of the cavern where you met me."

" _You have got to be kidding me."_

"No, Brother Scotty, I would not do that to you. There is nothing more serious. We will have to live there for many years."

Scotty looked dumbfounded.

"Guys, we can't do that. It's ridiculous. With lions and tigers? And huge hungry bears? You've got to have a better plan than that. We can't all possibly fit in the cave where Echo hid."

"My Brother, you do not understand. I was not hiding. I lived in contemplation. And my home is not little. It is vast. The Womb will make it vaster. We have been invited. You do not understand the significance of the honor. To refuse is to perish. We must go." The aura dissipated, leaving Scotty with his mouth hanging open in alarming disbelief. Trying to suppress her fear, Abby commanded his attention. Time to move on.

"Don't forget. I need you to keep the truckers moving. Make sure they don't leave any animals behind. Echo and I will take care of implanting them as soon as we get there. We'll handle any people that we find there. I want you to lead the truckers back to the house and get the animals stashed on the boat. Don't worry if you lose us. We'll hitch a ride back with one of the truckers if we have to."

Putting a thick envelope in his hands, she said, "This is full of hundred dollar bills. Any of the truckers give you a problem, bribe them. If you run out, call me on my cell. I have more. They're all being paid very well, but you never know. When they see lions and tigers being let out of their cages, they might freak. Just make sure they get the backs of the trucks open and then get out of the way." She hugged him closely. "Are you with me?" Begrudgingly, he nodded his assent. Turning to include Echo, Abby picked her up, squeezing her tightly. "We can do this, right, Echo?"

"I have no doubt, my Sister." Echo looked up, making them both laugh, breaking the tension. She had slipped on a gift Scotty had given her. He had obtained a pair of doll's sunglasses to cover her eyes from the truckers. She now wore shades matching Abby and Scotty's. Along with her fanny pack, she looked hysterical—you had to be there.

Scotty took Echo to the garage to get the Jeep, while Abby ran next door to Peter's house. She asked him to wait in Peter's driveway while she checked on them. She wouldn't be more than five minutes. Starting the Jeep, he eased out of the garage for the last time. He could feel the late spring sun already turning into an early summer fireball, the heat turning the car into an inferno. Flipping on the air conditioner, he pulled into Peter's driveway to wait for Abby.

Abby found Peter's front door unlocked so she let herself in. She spotted three bags sitting in the foyer, just as requested. She felt some of the weight on her shoulders drain away. She wasn't sure how cooperative Peter and his girlfriend would be after the terror they'd been put through by Armoni. The shock of his death at the unnatural hand of Echo, and her subsequent revelations had only made their already fragile minds more frayed. She didn't know how reliable they were going to be today.

Entering the kitchen, she saw Ginger Mae sitting at the table, trying to get Daisy to eat, the child still nonresponsive. Ginger Mae looked up at her approach, her demeanor clearly fearful, her swollen face altering the clarity of her voice.

"Sank ou fo or help."

Abby nodded her head to indicate she understood.

"Don't try to talk. You need to save your voice and get better for Daisy. Once she's away from here and we get settled in our new home, she'll recover. I'll make sure she gets the attention she needs."

"Doctor?"

"No, not a doctor. That's not what she needs. Try not to worry." Kneeling down, Abby looked into the little girl's face, completely devoid of color, her thin hair hanging lank and limp even though Abby could smell the fresh shampoo. She spoke softly, "Hi, Daisy. It's me. Your friend, Abby. We're going to go on a trip on my boat with some fabulous animals. We're going to go away and live with them in a magic forest near my home where I grew up. Would you like that?" Abby got no response but thought she saw a shift of the light in the child's eyes. Not much of a sign, but enough to reassure Abby that Daisy still existed in there.

Rising, she informed Ginger Mae, "I'm going to find Peter. Just nod, yes or no. Is he in his office?" Ginger Mae nodded yes. Abby rose, giving Daisy a hug, smoothing down her hair and went to find Peter.

She stood quietly at the entrance to Peter's office. He sat at his desk, his head down, buried in his arms. He must have sensed her presence because he looked up. He sat there just staring at her, saying nothing. He looked almost normal, his short-sleeved striped Oxford shirt tucked neatly into his crisp khakis. Under the desk, she could see clean leather boat shoes. Looking into his expressionless face, she could see his eyes were doing some strange jerky motions, his blinking frantic. _Well_ , she thought, _he's certainly not back to normal_.

"Are you going to be okay, Peter?"

"Why don't you sit down, Abby?"

"I don't have time. Scotty's waiting for me in the car. And Echo."

"Echo," he repeated.

"Yes, we'll be gone for about four hours, then return with the animals. Please try to be in your cabin onboard by then. Take one of the aft cabins for the three of you. We won't be on the boat for long. Just until we get to Tampa and transfer to the airport. But I think Ginger Mae and Daisy might need to rest. It'll keep them from getting underfoot. Once we arrive, things will be chaotic until we cast off. Was Cobby able to answer most of your questions?" She tried to sound reassuring.

"For now." He sounded far from reassured. Impulsively, she went to his side. She pulled up a chair from alongside the hand-painted wall. Sitting, she rested her hands on the desk next to his.

"Please, Peter. Please try to understand. I'm just a young girl who lost her mother barely a year ago. I didn't even have a chance to mourn her before I had this nightmare thrust on me. I didn't ask for it. I'm still not over the horror of my body changing, or the realization that something so terrible is going to happen that millions will die. Hundreds of millions. I can't handle this kind of responsibility, but I have to think of my family. And Jose doesn't even know about it yet. So I keep putting one foot in front of the other to ensure our safety. I regret your involvement but I needed your help. In time, you'll learn to be grateful. Ginger and Daisy are your family now."

"She's _not_ my family."

_Wow_ , she thought, _finally a reaction_. Something must have happened. She wondered if it had anything to do with Armoni.

"She's a woman you care about with a child who needs your support. One foot in front of the other, Peter. I have to go now. I know you'll do the right thing." Giving him a kiss on his sweating cheek, she ran out to meet Scotty.

The Jeep felt nice and cool as she slid inside. A quick glance at her watch spurred her on; already the time relentlessly ran ahead of her. She chose the parking lot at the mall on Tamiami Trail as the staging area for the trucks. Large trucks would blend in at the mall, appearing to belong there to deliver merchandise, drawing no unwanted attention. Leaving Peter's driveway, they hurried off the key to the highway to find the traffic fairly light, rush hour not yet upon them.

As they pulled into the mall parking lot, it was easy to spot the trucks, their drivers loosely gathered around in a huddle as they anxiously watched cars entering the parking lot, probably looking for their benefactor. _That's good_ , Abby thought. She hoped some of them had tried to hold onto the jobs they had previously lined up before Peter called them. They knew this gig was a quickie. If they were in a hurry, they would be less likely to ask questions. They would be tempted to keep their heads down, get the job done and skate out fast to salvage their original job.

Abby jumped out of the Jeep to introduce herself. She looked into the faces of the road-worn men and women, the backbone of what kept this country's faltering commerce functioning. She found it incomprehensible to believe they would all be dead in the very near future, the truth forcing her to evade their eyes, grateful for her sunglasses. One of the truckers held up his hand with a question. An older man with a heavy gut flopping over his pants so much she wondered how his jeans stayed up. _Here it comes_ , Abby thought. If she couldn't handle the questions, she would be forced to use Echo to implant them, but Echo had told her the implants interfered with the part of the brain that controlled hand-to-eye coordination; a huge drawback if you needed to drive. _What's the point of trying to rescue the animals only to endanger them with a possible driving accident_?

"Miss Preston? Clyde Calloway here. I understand we're here to move some animals? You mind telling us what kind of animals?"

"Well, Mr. Calloway, they're wild animals. You won't need to participate in the loading. Just open the trucks and step out of the way. Loading will take a little more than an hour. Then we'll drive to the coast, about half an hour away. Unloading will be simple. Again, just open the trucks and step out of the way. My attorney will be on site later to see that your bonuses are all paid."

She got a smattering of applause and hoots on the word bonus. The truckers scrambled to their rigs and fired up the ones that were not already idling. In a matter of minutes, the caravan of a dozen trucks hit the road, heading to the Big Cat Sanctuary, the Jeep in the lead.

As Scotty led the caravan toward the sanctuary, Abby speculated on what it took to create such a beautiful facility for the Earth's abused, exploited and discarded wildlife. What kind of self-sacrifice did it take to put an animal's needs before your own or that of your family's? Did it take a spiritual person to demand the dedication? Was it a thankless journey? She didn't think so. It was probably reward enough to wake up every day to look into the content innocent eyes of some of God's most awe-inspiring creatures. They were all victims. Innocent victims of man's hubris and unlimited capacity to exploit any and all of the planet's resources to the point of destruction. But not all men. She was always amazed when she read stories of someone risking their own life in the rescue of an animal. Like Scotty and Echo. It gave her hope. She had always thought there might be a chance for man to redeem himself. Unfortunately, and unexpectedly, man was now out of time. She wiped away a lonely tear, shaking off her melancholy thoughts. It no longer mattered with the impending tragedy looming.

Abby wondered what descendants remained of the original circus family who had started the sanctuary. Would they approve of what she planned to do with their precious charges? _I think they would_. Was it any different than the terrified mother, caught in a raging apartment fire who begs the fireman to save her infant as the fire consumes her home? Well, I'm just the fireman come to rescue their babies before the fire rages at the feet of humanity.

Abby glanced at Scotty, seeing his tight lips and white knuckles on the steering wheel. She reached over to give him a squeeze, and was rewarded with a tentative smile.

"Why us, Abby? Why did it have to be us? Was it because I found the old gold coin when I was a boy?"

"If it hadn't have been us, I would still be sick. I might not ever have fallen in love with Jose." Smiling at him, she spoke softly. "You never would have met Chloe." Sobering, she reminded him, "And worst of all, we would have all been killed anyway. I still don't know what's going to happen, but I feel a more desperate sense of urgency. We must get back home to Sussex as quickly as possible. Jose and Mama Diaz will be waiting for us."

"Is there anything else we can do to convince Chloe to come with us? I asked her, but I couldn't very well tell her the whole story. Abby, could you give her a call?" He was begging.

"I don't know what I can say that you left out. You know we can't tell her the truth. We could give her an implant, but that would be like kidnapping her. She has to come willingly, hon."

Scotty greeted her words with silence. Abby gave him a quick look. He appeared pensive, not crestfallen or even sulking as she would have expected. Noticing her watching him, he turned his attention to the road. Letting the subject drop, she also faced the road as they made their way to their destination.

It wasn't long before they pulled up in front of the gate blocking their passage onto the gravel road which would take them up to the enclosures. Reaching into the back of the SUV, Scotty grabbed a pair of bolt cutters he had stashed on the back seat a few days ago at Abby's request. He hurried up to the gate, snapping the chain before any of the drivers were the wiser. He quickly opened the gates, wedging them open with bricks he found, conveniently left by some absentminded grounds tender.

They were in. The convoy rolled onto the property. Abby cringed at the noise the trucks made on the gravel driveway, dust swirling up and over the animal enclosures in opaque clouds. Scotty parked the Jeep and directed the trucks to line up back down the dusty drive, facing the gate for a quick and easy getaway. The drivers began to open the back of their trucks. The plan called for Scotty to position himself at the first enclosure. Abby and Echo, from the relative privacy of the Jeep, would send out Echo's implants–they were trying to shelter Echo's presence from the truckers. Scotty would then open the enclosures with his bolt cutters, snapping the padlocks. Each animal would be directed by its implant to find a truck and enter, while Abby would spend the time keeping the truckers under control. Echo would stay out of sight in the Jeep unless someone from the sanctuary showed up. Then she would send implants out to subdue them. Abby watched as she saw Echo's antlers split open, sending the implants on their way to find their wildlife targets.

"Miss Preston, we're ready for the cargo." The driver of the truck closest to the Jeep came around the back of the truck to make his announcement. A skinny young fellow with a face like a weasel, a tiny sprout of hair on his chin, trying hard to look like one of the boys. He sported a cigarette between his fingers as he leaned casually against the truck sucking on his cancer stick. Abby noticed Scotty moving on to the second bear enclosure. Lumbering out of the first enclosure appeared a six-hundred-pound brown bear. _Oh, boy_ . . .

"Sir, I have to ask you to remain in your cab until we are completely loaded." Abby's voice spiked sharply with anxiety. The trucker lazily tossed his butt to the ground, twisting his foot over it.

"Okay, okay, no need to get your panties in a— _what the fuck_?" The trucker backed up against the truck as if bitten, freezing as the brown bear calmly walked past him to trudge up the metal incline into the back of the truck, where he pawed at the pile of blankets Abby had ordered for their comfort, making a nice nest for himself, then curling up to placidly watch the rest of the action. Right behind the brown bear lumbered two more large bears. The thunderstruck trucker forgot to move.

Next, a male lion padded his way, his thick, dark mane making him look like the true king of the savanna. Speechless, the trucker's face caved in, looking as pinched as if he had just finished sucking on a hard green lemon. Carefully he backed up to the door of his cab, clambering up as if goosed by the devil himself.

Abby turned away from the now secured trucker to monitor the animals as Scotty released them from their cages. Scanning the line of trucks, she could see the animals sort themselves into them with no rhyme or reason.

She peeked into one truck down the line that contained a bear and a tiger sitting placidly with a group of goats and two spider monkeys. She found herself sweating about the combination, hoping nothing would go wrong with the implant control. She held her breath as she felt a Siberian tiger brush past her to the next truck. She noticed he had a piece missing from his left ear, near the tip. Her heart was in her throat as the magnificent beast turned his head and met her gaze. She backed away as he turned, continuing on to the next truck. She put her hand to her tripping heart in an instinctive effort to slow it down. Breathing slowly and deeply, her heart stopped its painful ratcheting. She shook her head, trying to shake off the hypnotic feeling she had received from the tiger. _Wow. What was that all about_?

Hurrying down the line of trucks, she banged on the cab doors of each truck containing a complete load, instructing the drivers to close up and get ready to roll. Running back to the SUV, she saw the door pop open on the house she assumed would contain sanctuary personnel. Tapping on the side of the Jeep, she noticed Echo's head pop up.

"Hit anyone that comes out of that house, okay, girl?"

Echo nodded her head as her antlers peeled back, releasing a tiny stream of implants. Two women and a man rushed out of the house shouting, their features suffused in anger. The man carried a rifle at his side. As the implants landed, making their way into their ears, they came to a halt. Abby walked over to them, watching carefully as they adjusted to the implants. The women both stood tall and lean, their hair pulled back in thick black ponytails, similar enough to be a mother-daughter team. The short bald man lacked any resemblance to the women, and his Asian eyes were ready to pop out of his skull.

"My name is Abby. I would like to have that rifle, please." The man smiled and handed the rifle to her without a peep. "Please go over to the tortoise enclosure and make sure they find a comfortable spot on a truck. If you can't find any room, let me know. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Abby, we're happy to help." Smiles plastered dumbly on their blank faces, they trotted off to get the giant tortoises. Ruefully shaking her head, she laughed with irony at how happy they were to help. She wished she had thought of that earlier. It certainly took the sting out of the appearance that they were stealing the animals. Stashing the rifle in the Jeep under the seat, she ran through the compound, shouting for Scotty. She spotted him in the field with the camels. As he caught up to her, the trailing camels lingered alongside. Scotty gave the leader an extra swat on the rump to hurry them along to the trucks.

"How're we doing?" Scotty asked.

"Things are going well. Much easier than I thought. Echo implanted three people from the sanctuary who showed up unexpectedly. They're actually helping to load the trucks. They're working on the tortoises right now."

"Cool. I guess we're almost done. But Abby, don't we need food for these guys? I don't want any of those cats to get hungry."

"Don't worry. Got that covered. The implants will suppress the enzymes that regulate the hunger signals, just as their natural reaction to prey is being suppressed. They won't suffer unless they don't get food within a few days. We'll have plenty of water available. I guess we're in good shape."

"Uh oh—we've got a problem." Scotty peered over Abby's shoulder toward a small ramshackle house trailer on the edge of the compound. Abby assumed the food preparation station was in the trailer and hadn't checked it out.

"Let me handle this. You go check on the truckers," Abby said. "Make sure we're almost ready to roll. I'll swing through the enclosures as soon as I'm finished here." Nodding, and with one last glance at the house trailer, Scotty ran off.

Abby kept her eyes on the steps of the trailer as she made her way toward the young girl standing there. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, a well-endowed light-skinned black girl with stunningly long shapely legs being shown to their best advantage in her tiny white linen shorts. Her rich dark curly hair, spiking out in an unbelievable corona around her face and down her back, dwarfed her slender frame. Her dark almond eyes settled on Abby as she approached, a slight smile on the perfect curves of her luscious lips.

"What's up, chicky? Where you takin' all the kitties?"

_Hmm, sassy,_ Abby thought, watching her big gold hoops flash in her ears to the rhythm of her words. Abby stood at the bottom of the steps looking up.

"You work here? What's your name?" Abby could now see her huge abdomen. She looked to be about five months, maybe more. Hard to tell with such a slender figure.

"My name's Kenya. Kenya McCready. And who you be, chicky?" She stood with one hand on her hip, looking annoyed. "I just finished chopping a ton of greens and fruit for all a them turtles, and they can eat. You takin' them too?"

"Yes, we are."

"Well, what the heck am I gonna do with all a these greens?" She took out her cell and dialed a number. Abby stood, not knowing what to do with this unexpected young lady. She looked around for Scotty, hoping he was on his way with Echo. She glanced at Kenya's expanding midriff, wondering what impact an implant might have on a fetus. Kenya spoke into her cell.

"Sandra, can ya call me back and let me know what I'm supposed ta do with the greens I been slavin' over? The lady's here for the turtles." Closing her cell, she said, "Don't that beat all. I don't know why somebody didn't let me know. Well, I'll tell you, chicky, I'm makin' damn sure I get full credit for my hours. I only have ten left and I'm done. No more community service. Done, finished, kaput. Won't be seein' my black booty round here no more." Focusing her attention back on Abby, she said, "So who's that cute hottie I just saw you with, chicky?" She threw one hip up on the short porch railing, swinging her leg casually, as if she had all the time in the world to gossip.

"That's my brother, Scott. I'm Abby." She made a quick decision. She couldn't leave Kenya here with the others who were under the influence of the implants. Once they left she would realize something didn't jibe. All she had to do was talk to them. Kenya looked pretty street smart. They couldn't risk her calling the cops.

"You're supposed to come with us. Sorry, I didn't know you were Kenya, the girl I was told to look for."

Hopping down from her perch, Kenya squinted at Abby. "Where we supposed ta go?"

"Bird Key. It's about twenty minutes from here near the bridge."

Kenya's haughty face relaxed. "I ain't no dummy. I know where that is. Very muckity-muck." Kenya pranced down the steps to face Abby.

"Well, it's almost time to leave. You can come with us in the Jeep. My brother will be driving." Abby walked to the Jeep, hoping Kenya wouldn't ask any more questions. Scotty started when he spotted Kenya as he returned from checking the trucks.

"We're all set, Ab." He raised his eyebrows, nodding toward Kenya.

"Scotty, this is Kenya, she's going to ride with us. She's supposed to give us a hand with the animals." She turned to Kenya, who stood smiling at Scotty, preening and tossing her magnificent mane.

"Scotty will take you anywhere you need to go when we're done. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure, chicky, whatever you say." She placed her hand on the door. Swinging it open, she slid her ample abdomen up on the seat, right next to Echo, seemingly not even noticing her.

Abby and Scotty hurried to the front seats as the trucks revved their idling engines. The three sanctuary workers walked right past the Jeep toward the house. Kenya stuck her head out the window, hollering, and waved.

"Sandra, I'll see ya next week. Don't forget ta mark my hours, now." The three of them waved back and returned to the house. Abby visibly relaxed. Scotty pulled out alongside the trucks and proceeded down the gravel drive to take the lead. Pulling beyond the sanctuary gates, they headed for Bird Key.

"Uh . . . hey, chickies." Kenya stuck her head up between Scotty and Abby, whispering loudly and talking as if they didn't understand English. "Did-you-know-there's-a-creature-in-the-back-seat-with-me? Ain't no creature I ever seen before. Does it bite?" She looked worried.

"No, she doesn't have any teeth," Abby answered. Kenya gave Echo another good look. Sticking her head up between the seats again, she whispered, "Did you know it's wearing a pair of sunglasses? And a tiny old-fashioned fanny pack? What's up with that? I don't ever see no creatures dressed like that, 'cept the chimp, that is. They dress him up like a baby all the time."

Scotty spoke up. "She has a name—Echo. She's just a family pet that we have fun dressing up. I'm into fashion." Abby rolled her eyes at Scotty.

"Fashion? I think we have a lot in common, Scott. We'll have to compare notes." She pinched his arm, winked and then glanced at Abby. "When I finish working and all, that is." Abby began to wonder just who this irreverent young girl was.

"Where do you live, Kenya?"

"I'm from Sarasota, believe or not. I'm from the project. Over by Martin Luther King Boulevard. The only one in the whole town." She lowered her voice with a trace of bitterness. "I live in a group home for the unwed. Can't be on my own till I turn eighteen. Won't be long now. Then me and my baby will find us a nice fly guy with a big ole house that gots a yard for my baby and a first-rate set a wheels." She was beaming over her big plans.

"Where's your mom and dad?" Abby assumed they would want to be there when the baby came. "And the baby's daddy, I take it he's no longer in the picture?"

Kenya laughed. "He was never even in the picture. Don't know my daddy, my momma got shot when I was five. Not too many nice ladies want to adopt a five-year-old. They want an infant. The ladies round hereabouts wants a white baby. But don' you worry 'bout me. I'm gonna have my own family, jus' soon as my baby born." She rubbed her belly, a dreamy expression on her elegant face. Abby wondered exactly how hard this poor kid had been raised. And by who?

"So, Kenya, why are you doing community service?"

Kenya sighed, her arms wrapping tighter around her belly. "I hit a girl. She stole my baby clothes I been savin' for. She went right into my dresser and took em. Probably sold em for a couple a bucks for her skag. I don't make much money at the sanctuary. Been workin' there for one ta two years. Sandra worked it out with the judge after that thievin' bitch signed a complaint against me, that I could do my service at the sanctuary. I don't start getting paid again till my service is done. Sandra's a nice lady. She knows I love animals. They don't judge me or leave me. Sandra's tryin' ta work out me livin' at the big house after the baby comes. Sure is good of her, but she don't understand. I need to find me a fly guy for my baby. I'm not letting my baby grow up like a vagabond. We deserve to make a family."

_You sure do_ , Abby thought. "I know just what you mean, Kenya. You keep your chin up and do what you have to do for the baby."

Scotty gave her a thumb's up sign and she winked at him again.

# Chapter 13

Lita zipped up her fly. Tucking her blue and white cotton checkered shirt into her jeans, she surveyed her bedroom to see if she had overlooked anything. She was the happiest she'd been since Omar Nasir had called to announce his demands for her attention. She found it very difficult to beg off without making him suspicious. _Damn. Just when I'd finally found myself on the cusp of a new life_. She had been all set to ship her furniture north and disappear when she had made the mistake of answering her cell without checking to identify the caller first. _Trapped_.

The days with him at the Ritz Carlton had crawled unbearably. She had even less tolerance for him now, knowing she was only a hairbreadth away from getting a real life back. She felt the pain he inflicted on her more intensely. She found it harder to smile and beguile him. She loathed his selfish, egotistical, demeaning, chauvinistic, condescending, misogynistic . . . _did I leave out the fact that he possesses a small dick—thank heavens–and frequently reeks of body odor?_

She laughed deliciously for the first time in almost a decade. Yes, she thought, that's how freedom tastes. She made a note to call her parents. They would be ecstatic. She lived with many restrictions when undercover and her communications with her parents suffered. They didn't even know where she lived. Slipping into her sneakers, she heard the doorbell ring. Frowning, she realized the movers were here, albeit early. Didn't matter. She was raring to go.

Grabbing her purse, she took out the engagement ring Omar had given her. She didn't doubt the significant value of the diamond. Slipping it back into her purse, she decided she would sell it and give the proceeds to the scholarship fund offered by the company for children of agents killed in the field. The doorbell rang again. The movers. She ran to answer it, dancing on air.

*

Omar Nasir prepared for his long-awaited meeting with the imams. It was still early in the morning, the Florida sun just starting its relentless pounding on the hapless inhabitants who had failed to escape to their essential air conditioning. He stretched out on his deceased wife's comfortable antique fainting sofa in their bedroom. He found it difficult to get motivated, still mystified as to the imams' agenda.

He tried, discreetly, to put feelers out within his network as to the purpose of the meeting. He didn't doubt that the news of his engagement had reached them by now. That should make them very happy, as they pressured him incessantly to take a wife to the White House. They wanted him to appeal to the parts of the country which revered family and traditional values, which was not the normal Socialist New World Party's base.

The imams wanted to make sure that everyone loved and trusted him, so the public wouldn't see the end coming. Twenty years in the planning, one must admire their patience. And the respect they commanded. Their tentacles reached far and wide. Very wide. Unfortunately, he too must always be on his toes, never knowing who watched, or from where.

Thinking of his engagement, he turned his mind to Lita. She had genuinely seemed shocked when he had presented her with the ring, sliding it on her finger to proclaim his possession. He did not actually _propose_. A ridiculous American tradition, asking for the woman's permission. Humiliating. Besides, a Syrian woman would not expect it. She knew her duty and the behavior required of her in their relationship.

He must admit that their time at the Ritz Carlton had fallen a little flat. Her lovemaking had lacked her usual level of passion. _And what had happened to the exciting conversationalist I always enjoyed_? When he inquired, she indifferently chalked it up to her allergies.

Feeling hungry for his breakfast, he called down to the kitchen to inquire about the delay. Oddly, no one picked up his call, a very rare occurrence. He decided to try again in a few minutes.

Rising to use the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the vanity mirror. Was that more gray? Moving up close to the mirror, he ran his hairy fingers over his well-developed chest, liking the look and feel of his thick thatch of dark hair. But he didn't like the strands of gray that had suddenly appeared on his well-coiffed head. It must be all the stress. Now in his late forties, he found he worried more. And he always seemed to be tired. Maybe from the constant campaigning? He couldn't wait for November when it would all be over.

He wondered what date he should set for the wedding. Maybe after the election. A White House wedding sounded elegant. They could get it out of the way before the next phase of the imams' plan was initiated: using him to smuggle in the bombs, the details still unknown to him. Well, they would tell him soon enough.

He glanced at his watch. Where was his breakfast? He wanted to eat before he put on his disguise. He called the kitchen again. Still no answer. _Where was that woman_? His cook had been with him for over ten years, provided by Andrew. Andrew Brooks did all the hiring of the guards and house staff.

Andrew's talents made his world manageable: Brooks was his most invaluable confidant and his closest associate. Odd, considering he knew very little about Andrew's own life. Yet Andrew knew everything about him. Oh well, _his_ importance overruled all other considerations, especially trivial affairs of his employees and associates.

Tired of ruminating, he decided to don his disguise and head down to the boat. He would check the kitchen on the way out, but he no longer had time to eat. He would have to wait for lunch.

He took his time applying his makeup and hairpieces, fingers expertly fashioning his new persona. Nasir made a mental note to have Andrew obtain a cane for him. Hunching over with no support just to further his disguise hurt his back. The cane would give him support and add to his elderly persona.

Peering out his bedroom window, he observed the morning heat shimmering off the flagstone terrace, his daughter already swimming in the pool. He should be back in time to have lunch with her. That would be a nice treat.

He reached for his cell again. He wanted to call Lita before he set off in the boat. Waiting impatiently for her to pick up, he smiled at the thought of how handsome he would look on their wedding day, with her at his side. She did not pick up her cell. Now, he was starting to steam. _Why are people not responding_?

Donning his geriatric clothes, he started briskly down the back staircase, directly to the kitchen. Further annoyed, he found the kitchen empty. The long gleaming stainless steel and granite countertops were spotless. No pots simmered on either the red Wolf range, or the chocolate Viking; its six burners were cold, the grill empty. Leaving a note for the cook regarding his lunch with his daughter, he hurried out the back door, skirting the pool and going directly to the waiting boat.

Boarding the Bertram, he ordered his waiting man to cast off.

"Where are the rest of the men? They knew I needed to go to the mainland."

The pilot shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, sir, but I am at your disposal."

Omar grumbled and steamed. So far the day had been determined to conspire against him.

Making himself comfortable in a flowered outdoor chair, he watched his man pilot the boat across the bay, sunlight reflecting off the cold ocean water, blinding his sight. He raised his hand to shelter his eyes, his false bifocals prohibiting the use of sunglasses.

His man turned and gave him a quick look. Their eyes accidently met. _What the f— was that look on his face_? Squinting, Omar could swear the man's eyes flashed contempt at him. _How dare he_? If he could afford the time he would discipline the man himself. He must speak to Andrew Brooks about him when he returned to the estate, then dismissed him immediately from his thoughts.

Before long they docked at Marina Jack's. Nasir quickly disembarked, getting a nod from his man.

"Do not leave the boat. I will be back within the hour."

"Yes sir."

Omar turned away slowly, giving the man a long look. He could swear he could still see something different in the man's eyes. _The man will soon rue the day he crossed my path_. Hurrying across the street, he walked quickly to the mosque.

He entered, removing his sandals in the antechamber before being quickly ushered past the prayer room down a long hall to the rear of the mosque. Swarthy bearded men milled around the door behind which the imams waited. He entered, respect radiating from his every subservient gesture.

The small stark room housed a low metal table at which the three gaunt imams sat in their robes, their long gray beards resting in their laps. Their eyes projected a fierce calm. Behind the imams, an oak sideboard held a slight pile of papers. Two aides waited reverently in the corner of the room near the only window, open to the courtyard. After exchanging traditional greetings, the aides signaled Omar to sit on the cushion across from the middle imam.

He hurriedly made himself comfortable, waiting for them to begin. No one spoke. Omar looked from one to the other as they appeared to study him. A prickly sensation distracted him, making the hairs on his back itch. He felt his hands turn to ice . . . _something's wrong_. Imam Mohammed al Qua Terique turned and reached for the papers on the sideboard, holding them against his chest. A sudden premonition knifed cleanly through Omar's bowels.

"You have been a fool, Omar."

More silence, his heart hammered, draining his face of all color. "I don't understand, your—"

"Shut up, you fool. You have ruined twenty years of interminable planning. Many men have risked much to make this happen. The Salafis have waited so long, and are finally in position to eliminate the western devil. All ruined over a woman." He spat on the table, throwing down a ring and a photo. "Pick them up and look at your whore."

Omar's hands shaking, he picked up the photo and the engagement ring he had put on Lita's finger just days ago. He focused on the photo. She lay on the floor of what appeared to be her bedroom, panties wrapped around her neck, her body nude. Signs of rape. Her hands were tied and bound to a leg of the bed he had used so many times to enjoy her tasty body. Above her once beautiful eyes sat the ugly bullet hole that had ended her life.

He closed his eyes, stalling for time. _Why did they do this_? His mind spiraled with questions. His bowels groaned uneasily. "Why was this necessary? You approved the relationship."

The imam flicked his finger on the remaining photo, sliding it toward Omar. He picked it up. It showed Lita in a pantsuit, her luscious hair drawn back in a youthful ponytail with none of the exotic cosmetics she normally wore. She stood on a street in front of an Asian grocery, looking like any other American woman. He peered closer . . . American? He looked up questioningly.

"She is CIA, you fool. This was taken in New York City over two weeks ago. The grocery is a front for the CIA head field office. Did you even know she was in New York?"

Omar's shock was palpable as he shook his head slowly. "She was fully vetted. She's clean. She's from Syria," he whispered.

"She is _American_ ," the imam roared, slapping his hands on the table, making Omar jump. Silence descended in the small room. Omar could feel a bead of sweat roll down the side of his temple. He wondered if he would get out of the mosque alive. His only hope might be the fact that they wouldn't dare draw attention to the mosque which served as a cover for their activities. If they tried to take him outside, he might have a chance to escape. He pushed the thoughts of his tired body and pampered lifestyle away from his hope of escape.

"They must have known of our plans for years." The bitterness cut deep in the fanatic's voice. "Our only hope is to revamp and move our operation to go status. In the last two weeks we have made alternative plans. Two neutron bombs are making their way over the border from Mexico. They should have arrived on the U.S. side by now. They will be airborne in a dozen hours." The three imams rose. "We are leaving for the airport now. We will be in Cairo by this evening." Omar's mind swam with confusion.

"What do you want me to do?" He cringed at the whining tone of his voice, visions of his presidential inauguration dissolving. Mohammed al Qua Terique eyed him disdainfully, his contempt crystal clear.

"I suggest you start running." He turned and left the room, the other imams and the aides scurrying behind. Omar waited a few minutes to let the imams clear out of the mosque. He tried to slow the frantic thundering of his heart so he could think. He must get home to collect his daughter. The safe in his study contained enough cash to save them both.

He carefully peered out into the hallway, finding it empty. He ran down the deserted hall to the prayer room where he slowed down. Entering the antechamber, he searched for his sandals. No one stopped him. Not bothering with the stooped posture of his disguise, he hurried back to Marina Jack's. He ran down the dock to the Bertram, but his man was nowhere to be seen. _Damn. The idiot was probably sucking up a beer at the bar_. Racing over to the marine bar he looked around wildly for his pilot, losing precious time.

Abandoning the Bertram, he made a quick call to the house. No one picked up. He called Brooks. Nothing. He paced madly, his cell to his ear. Frustration began to overwhelm him. He stopped pacing and drew a deep breath. Again. More able to think, he decided to call for a cab. His luck held. A cab pulled up to valet parking in front of Marina Jack's formal restaurant, the patrons entering, well-heeled and dressed to kill, their beautiful well-maintained faces laughing and joyful, were oblivious to the coming destruction.

He slid into the back of the cab, spitting out his address. His heart began to hammer again, sweat dripping from both temples. He loosened his collar trying for air. The driver watched him from the rearview mirror.

"You okay, buddy?"

"Yeah," he gulped. "Just drive, I'm in a hurry." Thinking of Lita's beautiful face marred by the ugly hole in her head left him full of rage. If she was here, he would shoot her himself. _The fucking American cunt_. His blood boiled with the thought of how she must have laughed at him behind his back with her co-conspirators.

He suddenly realized he had no money in his pockets. No worries, he could get the cab fare from his man at the gate. He wondered who manned the gate today. Should he tell the help? Rejecting the idea, he knew he didn't have the time to explain.

Quickly dialing his bank, he requested a wire transfer to the National Trust of Switzerland in Zurich. He watched the driver's eyes pop in the rearview window when he mentioned the amount. As they pulled up to his house, he felt a buzz in his head. The gates were wide open and no one sat in the guardhouse. They driver pulled up to the front door. Jumping out, he ordered the driver to wait. He could take them to the airport.

Running up to his daughter's room, he barged in. She looked up from the floor where she was brushing her dog. _Oh God, the dog's going to be a problem. She'll want to take him_.

"Hi, baby." He rushed to her closet, taking down a piece of luggage. "You have to pack. It's an emergency. Pack light. We can replace anything you need later. Your pup has to stay behind. We can't take him. He'll slow us down." He saw she was still on the floor, holding the pup he had given her closely.

"Where are we going, Daddy?"

"To Switzerland for now." He started to pull open her dresser drawers. "Come on, baby. We have to go. Put the dog down."

"Daddy, I can't leave him. He has to come." She was going to give him a problem about that damn dog. _I ought to wring its neck right now_.

"Okay, we'll deal with him later. I need you to pack now. I'll be down the hall packing if you need me."

"How long will we be gone?"

"We're not coming back." Too late, he realized he probably shouldn't have said that.

"I don't understand. My swim trials are coming up in a few weeks. Is Uncle Andrew coming too?"

"Honey, I don't know. Let me go so I can make some arrangements. Have you seen your Uncle Andrew today?" He was at the door, ready to bolt down the hall.

"No, Daddy."

"Come on, baby. Get up and pack. _Now_." Turning, he dashed out the door to find Andrew.

It didn't take him long to realize they were alone in the house, the help nowhere to be found. He didn't need this additional complication, now of all times. He descended the main staircase to the foyer. Walking to the back of the house, he passed the monkey cages and turned, entering his study. He went right to the library shelves. Pushing aside a line of popular junk bestsellers— _who would bother checking behind them_?—he exposed his safe.

Spinning the dial, he opened the door, pulled out his papers and the stacks of cash, shoving them into a plastic bag that he would pack into his briefcase upstairs. His eyes, engrossed in the papers, failed to notice an obstacle on the floor. Moving to his desk, he tripped over something bulky, sending him falling to the floor, landing on his elbow, his papers and money spreading all over a dead body. Springing back from the cold body, his mind refused to register the horror before him.

He froze, hearing the click of a handgun. Looking up from the floor, he looked into the grim face of Andrew Brooks, his trusted long-time, right-hand man who stood pointing a gun at him, his eyes filled with ironic amusement.

# Chapter 14

Jose's plane landed at Sarasota Airport late in the morning. He was anxious to surprise Abby, but worried about her insistence that he go home to Sussex and wait for her there. He fully intended to get to the bottom of her bizarre behavior. Only then could he have Mama Diaz and the girls move down to Florida with them. This overriding goal pressured him to quickly reunite what was left of his adopted family. This insistence they go to Sussex was nothing short of bizarre, yet Abby had refused to discuss the issue on her cell.

Grabbing a cab after he got off the plane, he gave the cabbie his address. Sitting back, he realized his anger about the whole thing with Abby still hovered under the surface. He thought back two weeks ago when he had left for New Jersey, hoping he would be returning victoriously to Florida.

It hadn't taken very long to find them. The excellent investigators had finally produced results. Scotty had driven to the Short Hills tenement as soon as he had obtained the address. Mama Diaz burst out crying as soon as she opened the door to find him there. He took her in his arms trying to kiss her tears away, observing how her formerly thick chestnut hair felt thin and was shot heavily with gray, her laugh lines now etched deep and permanent. Pulling him into the apartment, she insisted on making him tea while they caught up on family news.

While Mama Diaz made the tea, he looked around the tiny one-bedroom apartment. The girls shared the bedroom and Mama Diaz slept on the sad, ugly sofa in their combination living room/kitchen. As he stood on the chipped linoleum floor, he took note of the bars on the one window in the apartment. The kitchen boasted a substandard-sized refrigerator, a white stove and a scratched white enamel sink built into appalling chipboard cabinets and linoleum countertop. Set on the wall over the kitchen table, Mama Diaz's own crucifix from Lily Pond Road proudly graced the wall. He hoped her religion provided her with great comfort because she sure wasn't getting it from the dump they lived in. His blood boiled when he thought about the house waiting for her and the girls in Florida.

Mama Diaz set the tea down on the table. Jose pulled out a rickety chair for her, urging her to sit.

"Mama, I need to know. Why did you move to Short Hills? I don't understand."

"Jose, you're such a good boy. I couldn't have Bonnie and Emma live in the pigsty my Tomas took us to. He knew better. Something was definitely not right with my Tomas. I think he just wanted us out of the way." She shook her head, pain etched in her weary eyes.

"And there's this Armoni. Did you know about Kelly's brother? The man is hideous. I couldn't have him around the girls. It boggles the mind that my boy took us there. I did think about coming back home but Tomas said we had to leave you alone. He said Abby was glad to get her house back. I couldn't barge in on you kids. The very next day he brought us here. It's better than being at Kelly's house. Tomas paid for the first month's rent and the security. He took us to the grocery store, and then we never saw him again. He just left us here.

"I found a job at a grocery store fifteen blocks from here. I got the girls into a school with some decent teachers. They seem to be as happy as can be expected under the circumstances. Emma has a part-time job in the nursing home a few blocks away. She works on weekends. I applied for public assistance last week. I should hear soon. It will be such a big help."

The tears slipped silently from Jose's eyes. He put his arms around his adopted mother. They cried together.

"It's over, I'm here now. We found you. You'll come to live with us." Jose held her as he told her of their new life. He told her about everything except their isolation and the secrecy.

After having tea, Mama Diaz and Jose went to the grocery store to buy treats for a surprise celebratory dinner. They bought fresh meat and vegetables, as well as bacon—an unheard-of treat—not to mention cupcakes and ice cream. Their giddiness and excitement about the future allowed Mama Diaz to laugh and exclaim over the sinful extravagances. Jose had so much fun showering Mama Diaz with goodies that everyone in the store watched them enviously. Such a sign of prosperity was very unusual in their neighborhood.

Loading their purchases in Jose's rental car, they talked about the upcoming science project at Emma's school.

"She is very proud of her work, an elaborate diorama of the creatures which the planet has lost through extinction in the last one hundred years. Emma is very artistic. She did all the drawing and models herself. Her project won't be presented for another week. I think it would mean a lot to her if we could wait until she presented her project before we leave. Do you think we can wait that long?" Mama Diaz looked anxious as she unpacked the luxuries from the market.

"Mama, we can wait as long as you guys need. We've waited this long. What's another week?"

When the girls came home from school, he winced at how ragged they looked. It took him awhile to realize it was exactly how they had all looked when they lived together on Lily Pond Road. They lived so differently in Sarasota that the contrast was painful.

Emma had finally found a growth spurt, and was now a spirited yet serious young lady. Bonnie, still very young, her short curly brown hair framing her round impish face had yet to lose her baby fat even though she stood to finish her freshman year of high school soon. As much as he missed Abby, with Mama and the girls he felt surrounded by a feeling of home. And it wasn't because he was back in New Jersey. It was because this was a vital and missing part of his life. He didn't get this feeling in Sarasota. He needed it. They all needed it. It just made him more anxious to get everyone safely back to Florida.

Not surprisingly, the description of Jose, Abby and Scotty's new life shocked them all. The girls went wild, excited over the possibilities. Jose knew, though, that he would have some questions to answer. And they came soon enough.

They finally finished the first meat-filled dinner the girls had seen since they had moved; the apartment was filled with the warmth of savory roasting juices. No longer would they be forced to subsist on cheap beans for their protein. Hilarity and horseplay between Jose, Emma and Bonnie escalated just like old times.

"Jose, why don't you take those silly glasses off? You wear them all the time. Don't you get sick of them?" Bonnie tried to swat them off as she teased him. Jose ducked, eluding her flying arms.

"Bonnie, please behave, Jose didn't come all this way to put up with your bad manners." Mama Diaz got up to give Bonnie a swat. The girls quickly settled back down under the watchful eyes of their exasperated mother, enjoying their unexpected dinner. Bonnie and Emma rose to clear the table, not needing any prompting from their mother. As the girls worked, Mama Diaz placed her hands atop Jose's.

"My boy, you are so good to us and we love you for it. But I must ask. Where is all your good fortune coming from? How can you afford to live in such homes in Florida and do all of this for us?" Jose looked deep into her confused trusting eyes. He reflected on the unwavering loving support that had saved him as a young boy, knowing no English, traumatized by the tragic deaths of his parents and being wrenched from the only home he had known in Costa Rica. It was through her efforts that part of the hole in his soul had healed. She deserved every drop of comfort his good fortune could bring to her and the girls.

"Mama, I have something important to try to explain to you. Emma . . . Bonnie, could you both come sit down?" The girls looked somber at his unexpected tone. They sat, looking at him expectantly.

"I don't know how to tell you this." Jose put his hands on top of his head in frustration and fear. "I need to tell you that I love you all very much. I would never do anything to hurt you. Do you believe me?"

"Well, yeah."

"Of course."

"My boy, what is it?" They all looked curious. Not scared yet, but he knew it would come.

"You didn't rob a bank, did you?" Emma and Bonnie cracked up, rolling their eyes comically. Jose sat silently, not knowing how to start, his tongue a leaden slab in his mouth. They stared at him with anticipation, breathless for what would clearly be a bombshell.

"You did, didn't you?" Emma whispered the accusation.

"Oh my God. He did." Bonnie clapped her hands over her mouth, amazement lighting up her face.

"No, I told you. It's not that." He took a deep breath and reached up to remove his sunglasses. Mama and the girls looked as if they had been slapped.

" _Holy shit_. What happened to your eyes?"

"Emma, watch your mouth in this house. Oh, my poor boy. What happened?" Mama, first wringing her hands and making the sign of the cross, searched her pockets for her rosaries. The brilliance of his eyes reflected into the room. He tried to remember how shocking this must look. _Should I go any further? Can they handle the whole truth? How can I avoid telling them_? Overwhelmed, he put his head down on the table, his arms burying the glow from his eyes.

"Abby and Scotty have it, too." His voice sounded hollow from inside the shelter of his arms. Mama got up from her seat to put her arms around Jose.

"My boy, does this have anything to do with your new wealth? Please tell us, Son. We're going to support you, no matter what. You know that. We're family." Her gentle supportive words felt like a balm on his young soul. He wanted desperately to lift the burden of secrecy off his inexperienced shoulders. He broke down, telling them everything. Exhaustion defeated him as he finished most of the unbelievable story. Mama got up hurriedly, putting on the teakettle. The girls looked at him with renewed interest.

"When can we meet Echo? Can we see the gold? Can I have a diamond?" The questions and silliness kept coming until Mama put an end to it.

"Girls, Jose is not on display for your pleasure. We are trying to finish our tea. Now take the ice cream out of the freezer and serve it, please."

Chastised by Mama, and not understanding the significance of Jose's revelation, the girls let up, returning to the chatter about their schoolmates and what their new house would look like. The respite allowed Jose to escape frightening the girls with any further disclosures. But he could tell Mama would not be put off so easily. Glancing at her pensive wise face, he knew she would wait for the right time to broach the subject again.

As the evening came to a close, the girls kissed him goodbye and retired to their bedroom to get ready for bed. Jose finished wiping the last dish for Mama. Folding the wet dishtowel on the rim of the sink, he announced he should be getting back to his hotel.

"I'll call Abby tonight to give her the good news. I'd like to do some shopping tomorrow if you're up to it, Mama."

"Jose, I must go to work tomorrow."

"You're never working again." Jose laughed, putting some large bills in her hands. "Call your boss, Mama, I'm taking you shopping tomorrow." She looked flustered, a big excited smile on her face.

"I can't believe our good luck." She stopped suddenly. Smoothing back the curls that fell across his forehead, Mama glanced sideways at his glowing eyes and whispered, "I hope you can find an extra minute for me tomorrow. You know you need to tell me the whole story."

Kissing her on the check, he nodded his head. "Of course, Mama, I didn't want to say any more in front of the girls. Tomorrow."

Giving her a final hug, they parted at the door. Jose skipped the dismal confining elevator, descending the stairwell down the six flights to the street. He listened to the metal thump of his shoes against the worn treads of the echoing stairwell, the walls marked with the graffiti of the current generation. He knew life in this environment gave birth to violence, drugs, various racial hatreds, rapes and casual murders. He cringed every time he thought of Abby and Scotty trying to survive in this environment as children. He hardened his determination to get Emma and Bonnie out as soon as possible.

He emerged into the sunlight, the local homies holding court on their appropriated turf at the front of the building giving him the stink eye. A few made catcalls. He thought of Mama and the girls running that gauntlet every day and he made up his mind. He would move them into his hotel for the rest of the week until they were ready to accompany him to Florida.

Hurrying back to his hotel—the same one they had stayed in when they were in Norristown, he asked to be moved into the penthouse. Short Hills was only a twenty-minute drive away. He could take the girls to school and pick them up afterwards. He began to relax, thinking the worst remained behind him.

That night Abby called, turning his plans upside down. The conversation was tight and upsetting as Jose learned she wanted him to take Mama and the girls back to Lily Pond Road. She further surprised him, confessing she knew he continued to pay the lease on the house. It wasn't that he thought that they would ever need the house again, he just didn't want there to be any unexplained discoveries when new tenants moved in. Continuing the lease prevented that. He didn't want anything unusual to be traced back to them. Just a precaution.

He fired a million questions at Abby. The fact that Abby had exposed herself to the Cobbys came as a shock. _How could she risk our security without discussing it with me_? He hadn't even known she trusted Captain Cobby enough to confide in him. When he left to find Mama and the girls, the biggest problem had been Scotty and Kane. _When did that resolve itself? And just when exactly did Abby get so chummy with Captain Cobby_? His young imagination burned with the thought of Abby spending time with the handsome Italian. _What the heck's going on_? Her unsatisfying answers left him full of doubts.

He sat in his hotel stewing over this change of events, wanting desperately to be in Sarasota to understand what Abby and Scotty were up to. He mulled over his bitter thoughts, angry about how they threatened to derail his plans for Mama Diaz and the girls. He should be celebrating, not moping around depressed about what Abby was up to.

He weighed his options. Abby wanted him to trust her and blindly ask no questions. He railed at being treated like a child. In the long run, he still had to spend time with Mama and the girls. He wanted to take them all shopping and Emma needed to complete her presentation on world extinction. She really wanted him to attend and he would. After he got them settled in Lily Pond Road again, he would hop a plane back to Florida and see for himself just what was going on.

But how to tell the girls they weren't going straight to Florida? Abby claimed she planned to bring others with her, but she wouldn't tell him why. Very ominous. He thought the emotional reveal to Mama Diaz would have to wait, the distraction in Sarasota weighing heavily on his mind.

*

Before he knew it, Jose's mind snapped back to the cab in Sarasota as it pulled into the driveway at Mango Lane. Paying the cab, he ran up to the front door and rang the bell. No answer. He searched his pockets for his key, slipping it into the lock. To his surprise the door popped open, unlocked all along. Odd.

He stepped into the foyer, his feet sounding a hollow tone never before noticed, as if the house didn't recognize his footstep.

"Abby? Scotty?" No one answered. He ran up the staircase to the bedroom, the bed unmade, no Abby. Returning downstairs, he headed toward the kitchen, looking around in vain, seeing no one. The dogs weren't even here. Scanning the room, he noticed the absence of Penny's big doggy bed. In its place rested a ragged old afghan, probably something Scotty had picked up for the dogs.

He stared absently at the afghan, annoyed that no one was home. Spoiling for a fight now, his eyes casually rested on the afghan's pretty turquoise color as he reminded himself they didn't know of his secret return. They thought he waited in Sussex County.

He abruptly stopped all thought, his eyes refocusing on the afghan. _What? Something about the afghan_. It drew him, an unfamiliar feeling hitting him in the solar plexus. He bent over, picking it up. Its poor condition testified to the beating it had taken over the years. He recognized the yellow maize design on the body of the afghan as a Mexican, possibly Central American design. Rubbing the afghan between his fingers, he wondered why it disturbed him.

From the front of the house he heard a racket. Stuffing the afghan under his arm, he hurried to the front door to confront an incomprehensible sight. Scotty's Jeep had pulled into the drive. Abby was out of the car directing a caravan of tractor-trailer trucks across the meticulously maintained front lawn and around the back of the house. The trucks drove over the top of their very expensive flowering bushes. _What the fuck_? He ran outside trying to flag down Abby. Unable to attract her attention, he turned to the Jeep where he found himself almost knocked over by a desperate hug from Scotty, who was accompanied a beautiful but bored, very pregnant, young black girl.

"Scotty what the heck are you guys up to? And where's Echo and the dogs?" Scotty gestured to the back of the Jeep.

"Echo's in my car. The dogs are waiting for us on the boat along with Peter and his girlfriend."

"Peter has a girlfriend? And why is everyone heading for the boat? You going somewhere?" Scotty looked uncomfortable as Jose questioned him. Feeling a quick elbow in the ribs from Kenya, he offered an introduction.

"Uh, Jose, this is Kenya McCready. She's here to help with the animals. She worked at the sanctuary."

"Hey there, chicky, you know where I can sit down?" Inadvertently ignoring the introduction, Jose grabbed Scotty's shoulders, giving him a shake.

"Sanctuary? I don't know what you're talking about. Can you help me get Abby over here?"

"Sure, uh, what are you doing with Teddy's blanket?"

"This is Teddy's? You mean it's Chloe's?"

"Yeah, it's an old baby blanket of hers. Chloe likes to use it for Ted." Jose handed the afghan to Scotty. Jose watched the blanket in Scotty's hands, distracted by Scotty directing Kenya down to the boat. Looking across the lawn, he saw Abby making her way across the yard, tears dripping down her face. Running over to Jose, she threw her arms around him, crushing him in her sweaty rumpled embrace.

"Thank God, you're here. I don't think I can do this alone anymore." Her face pressed into his shirt, muffling the sound of her crying and the tears soaking the material. "We have to get out of here." She looked up into his face, her glasses askew, exposing the fear in her eyes.

"Babe, babe, easy. What the heck's going on?"

They both turned, seeing Scotty jump into his Jeep and tear off down the road, obviously heading to Chloe's house. Abby wiped the back of her hand across her face, her words almost incoherent.

"We rescued the animals . . . forced me . . . save them . . . back to the cavern . . . Echo's help . . . millions will die . . . Cobby's help . . . didn't freak . . . to Tampa . . . elude the cops, can't have them slow us down. Gotta hurry, please Jose, _help me_." She looked down the road after the Jeep, swallowing hard, trying to catch her breath. "We have to get Scotty back here. We can't stay. The neighbors will notice. The cops will come. I need Echo if there's trouble. She's still in the back seat of the Jeep."

"Okay, okay. I still don't understand what's happening but I get the urgency. I'll go get Scotty. When I get back, we need to have a talk, Abby. Understood? You finish up here and get these trucks out of the way. Have the boat on standby. I'll be back as soon as I can. By the way, what's the big deal about these animals? What do you have, a bunch of dogs and cats?"

"You could say that," she muttered softly, her eyes closed shut as if in prayer, but not before Jose glimpsed again her raw fear.

"You okay, Abby?"

She nodded, opening her eyes to give him a solemn fragile smile. "I'm better now. I'll fill you in with the details later. Just go get Scotty. _Hurry_." She kissed him hard on the lips, then ran off around the back of the house.

# Chapter 15

Scotty tested his plan, running it quickly through his head. Tearing down the road to Chloe's house, he realized he had never intended to let her perish with the rest of the unprotected population. And Echo was the one who would help him prevent it.

He screeched to a halt on the road in front of her house. He was in luck, the front gate was open and unattended. A yellow cab sat in front of the house waiting for his fare.

"Echo, I'm going to go get Chloe to come out to the car to get Teddy's blanket. I want you to implant her, okay? We better take Teddy with us or she'll never forgive me. Can't leave the little dude behind, anyway. You onboard, girl?" Luminous auras signaled assent.

Scotty took a last look at Echo who sat, cool as a cucumber, in her shades and fanny pack. "Wish me luck." Giving Echo a thumb's up, he shut the Jeep door.

Scotty quickly ran up to the front door, finding it unlatched. Looking around, he double checked he wasn't observed; the cabbie was snoozing. He soundlessly slipped in the house, his shirt stuck to his back from the heat, sweat outlining his wings.

He boldly ran through the empty foyer and up the stairs to Chloe's room, softly tapping on her door. He could hear banging and drawers being slammed. Opening the door a crack, he saw Chloe packing a suitcase, the tracks of recent tears still drying on her cheeks. She looked awful. He opened the door wider. She glanced up, instant apprehension on her face. She jumped in delight when she realized it was Scotty, bowling him over as she threw her arms around him.

"Scotty, Daddy's taking me away for a long time. He said we can't take Teddy. I'll run away first. I'd rather die." She started to cry again, clinging to him as if he could solve her problem. _Which I can_ , he thought happily.

"Chloe, come _with me_. Of course, we can take Teddy with us. I have his blanket in the truck. Grab your suitcase and let's go." He grabbed Teddy, who looked at him with his tiny bright eyes and pink tongue flicking as if he could taste the air, so laden was it with emotion. They ran down the wide hallway, Scotty carrying her suitcase, while Chloe held Teddy to her chest.

*

Jose jumped in his SUV after Abby ran off to supervise the animals as they boarded the boat. He wondered how she planned to keep the cats and dogs from killing each other. Oh well, he knew she would handle it in her own capable fashion. And it had better be a good one if the size of the trucks were any indication of the number of cats and dogs.

Rounding the bend in his SUV, he located Chloe's house. Along the road across from the house sat Scotty's Jeep. Parking on the other side of the road, he crossed over to it. Peering through the open windows he saw Echo in the back seat with Teddy's blanket. He ran to Echo's side of the car, feeling the heat inside as he removed Echo's sunglasses. His mind's eye registered the aura as Echo complained about the loss of her sunglasses.

"I want to be a dude, Brother Jose. I need my shades. Brother Scotty said I am cool."

This was not the time for Echo to turn into a child on him. "Come here, you nut. You can be a dude later. I need to get you out of that hot car." He lifted Echo out of the Jeep which was heating up unmercifully, even with the windows down. He looked around to find a safe spot for Echo while he went into the house to get Scotty. Nothing. _She'll just have to come with me. What's the difference anyway? According to Abby we're going on the lam anyway_.

Grabbing Teddy's blanket, Jose walked past a sleeping cabbie and up to the front door, finding it cracked open. He rang the bell, surprised to see no one around. According to Scotty, the house was full of guards and other staff. Holding Echo in his arms, he pushed the door open wider and walked in.

Looking around the sumptuous foyer he wondered where to start looking first. Turning to the right, he walked through the opening to a huge room dominated by a mammoth stone fireplace. Empty. Softly calling out to Scotty, he stopped to listen. The house remained silent.

Moving on, he reflected on the tastefully expensive appointments lushly decorating the mansion. There was a time when he would have been intimidated by the wealth represented here. He would have longed for it himself. Looking around, he saw no sign of real life in the room. No signs of a real family. Just cold show pieces. Now that lady luck had chosen to allow them to experience such grandeur themselves, it left him unsatisfied. The only achievement that mattered to him was a healthy, happy family. That's what he ached for. He could be happy anywhere if his loved ones were with him.

Leaving the living room, Jose found himself in a light, bright space containing a lot of plants and wicker furniture, along with three ornamental freestanding cages. Peering inside he saw the monkeys Scotty had mentioned. They appeared timid and fragile, obviously on the older side, their muzzles tinged with gray, their skin thinning. Surprisingly, he knew the two on the left were howler monkeys. He also knew they originated from Costa Rica, his birthplace. He backed away from the monkey cages, Echo suddenly heavy in his arms. He set her down on the floor, feeling dizzy.

A taunting voice suddenly pierced the silence, seeming to come from an adjoining room. The voice sounded rich, commanding, and familiar. _Very_ familiar. His head swam with confusion as he took Echo's hand and walked toward the voice dumbfounded, disbelieving the déjà vu threatening to drown him.

Jose blindly stepped through the door to confront the tall, aristocratic man who stood castigating a middle-aged handsome man on the floor by the body of an older woman. But Jose comprehended little. His head reeled with the shock of recognition. The younger man was Omar Nasir, the Socialist New World nominee for the position of President of the United States.

They noticed his presence. Nasir used the opportunity to try to rise off the floor, only to be kicked in the head by the tall man's heavy leather riding boots, an affectation that Jose remembered well.

"Senor Brooks . . . my God," Jose whispered, confusion rendering him almost speechless. Brooks squinted at him.

"Do I know you, young man?" His tone rang with dismissive impatience.

"I am Jose. You were my friend. I . . . don't understand. What are you doing here?" In a long overdue flash, he made a connection. "The monkeys, they're yours. I know them. I played with them as a boy in Costa Rica. You took care of me when . . ." His voice trailed off as confusion got the best of him.

"He's not your friend, kid. He's just an everyday kidnapper and murderer."

Jose looked from one to the other. But Omar wasn't finished. He was shouting, "Who do you think kidnapped your infant sister?"

Brooks reached over to spit on Omar, imperious disdain and contempt scrawled across his aged face.

*

Scotty and Chloe emerged from the mansion, not seeing a soul. They tossed Teddy and the suitcase in the back seat. Just as Scotty started the car, he turned around to scan the back seat. Echo was gone. Looking around wildly, he recognized Jose's SUV on the other side of the road.

"Oh no. I have to go back in the house. That's Jose's truck. He must have come after me. And Echo's missing."

"Echo? You brought your cat?"

"Yeah, and sorry, she's definitely not a cat. I can't leave without her. You stay here with Teddy. Keep the air on." He dashed back to the front door, letting himself in again, listening carefully, hoping to hear where Jose might have gone. Echo had probably seen him pull up to the house and, for some reason, followed him in. From the foyer, the silence bounced off the walls making his skin itch with nervousness. Making his way slowly to the back of the house, he crept cautiously, afraid that if he got caught, he would lose his chance to save Chloe. He jumped, knocking off his sunglasses as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"No Echo yet? Oh gee, there's those eyes of yours."

"Chloe, damn it, you scared me." There she stood with Teddy in her arms. "I want you to stay in the car. You'll be safer there. Please go back to the truck."

"I can help you find Echo. We can get out of here quicker. I know my dad will be looking for me soon. The cab out front must be for him. I don't know where everyone is. This is pretty weird." Suddenly, they heard voices from the back of the house.

"You have to stay here. I'll go see if I can find Jose. Echo must be with him." He moved quickly to the back of the house, passing by the monkey cages to Chloe's father's study, where he was stunned to find Jose grasping Echo's hand while Chloe's uncle held a gun to the head of a man sitting on the floor, surrounded by paper money. Paper money that didn't quite cover the dead body of Chloe's old nanny, Mrs. Elbarad.

*

"Daddy?" Jose turned his back on the two men to see Scotty and Chloe standing at the doorway behind him. Jose turned back to Brooks, with one thing on his mind.

"Why would you kidnap my sister? You were our friend. Papa . . . my mama . . ." Jose held Teddy's blanket in front of his face, the horror fully dawning. "Oh my God, no . . . this was made by my mama. It was wrapped around my baby sister when she was kidnapped. How . . .?" He slowly turned to Chloe, tears flowing. "Chloe? Omar Nasir is your father?"

"Yes, what's going on, Daddy? Uncle Brooks, what are you doing?" Confusion evident, she backed away as if to escape the sinister sight, incomprehensible facts unraveling in front of her. "Daddy, what's happening? How do you know Scotty's brother? Why are you saying all of these horrible things about Uncle Brooks?" She seemed to finally see the gun in Andrew Brooks' hand and the body on the floor. " _Mrs. Elbarad, oh, my gosh_."

"Chloe, you know you're my baby girl." Omar pleaded from the floor, his hand stretched out to her.

They were all surprised when the shot came. The noise was paralyzing, and everyone froze in place as the ramifications left them speechless. Omar Nasir, the Presidential hope of the Socialist New World Party, lay in a pool of blood, his gelatinous brain matter plastered all over the artfully marbleized salmon walls behind him. Scotty reached out in shock, grabbing Chloe, who stood hyperventilating. Crushing her to his chest he instructed her to breathe.

Jose tried to bring himself under control. He needed time to think. Brooks still held a gun on them. He looked directly at Brooks in confusion.

"You killed my parents, kidnapped my baby sister for Mr. Nasir? And then you shoot him? He was going to be President. Why? Why . . . all of this? Why did you have to kill my papa, my mama?" His voice sank again with the enormity of the dead bodies lying on the floor. Things from his childhood flashed back to him. After the murders, the empty monkey cages, his constant grogginess, the infant cries on the airplane taking him to the United States. "You drugged me." He was astonished, but it explained so much. Well planned and well funded.

"Omar Nasir? You could almost say he works for _me_. I answer to Mohammed al Qua Terique of the Salafis. We owned Omar Nasir." He said it so proudly, the light of a madman gleaming from his bulging eyes. He gave them a long look.

"Jose and young Chloe. Ha. You both need to get over yourselves. You were just necessary pawns, needed in our efforts to package Omar for the stupid American public. Omar's wife cracked up after the death of their baby. A real nut job. Unstable and unreliable. We were forced to keep her hidden away until she snapped out of it. We tried a few methods of self-medication ourselves. Nothing worked. After a while, we realized the only thing that might work was another baby. Unfortunately, she could no longer carry a child. So we concocted a fabulous idea. Don't blame me. What else were we to do?

"Chloe fit our requirements perfectly. Your mother contracted polio while she was pregnant with Chloe, giving her the immunities she would need to avoid the disease herself. We went to great lengths to make it happen, as you know. The only reason you were not killed along with your parents was because I had taken a shine to you. You loved my little monkeys. No one knew I had not killed you. I think I went over and above what anyone would have done. Didn't I find a nice home for you? I kept my eye on you as long as I could. I had to disappear eventually, hoping to avoid the very kind of thing that has just happened. You could have unraveled everything. I guess I have no one to blame but myself. What an unwelcome coincidence to find you here. Coming back to bite me in the ass, eh? But we did find the perfect infant to lure Mrs. Nasir out of her depression. We had the perfect picture of the happy youthful political family, just what we needed to seduce the stupid American public."

Senor Brooks took a long hard look at Jose. He stared right back, hatred flaming his eyes through his sunglasses. Senor Brooks exhaled, a long sigh sputtered from his throat. "If it makes any difference, I have grown quite fond of Chloe. But not that little rat of hers. _Goddamn dog_. Sorry to say that our plans have changed. The house staff is long gone, their planes taking them to safety. Sorry I can't extend the same opportunity to all of you. The little rat will be the first to go." So saying, he raised his gun and took a shot at Teddy who stood unprotected on the floor. The little dog collapsed, and Chloe screamed hysterically, her arms flailing in the air out of control.

Turning to Scotty, Brooks motioned to Chloe.

"Do you mind shutting her up?" Brooks suddenly noticed Echo watching from behind Jose's legs. Extending his gun hand, he pointed with it. "What in the hell do you have there? Send that little thing over to me." Leaning down, Jose whispered hurriedly to Echo.

"Echo, that is a very bad human, he wants to hurt us." His mind aura turned turgid.

"I cannot let that happen, Brother Jose."

"That's enough talking there. Send the creature over to me _now_."

As Echo walked haltingly toward Brooks, her crystal antlers split open, sending her mysterious emulsion to hit Brooks smack in the face.

" _What the fuck_ . . .?" His voice gurgled as the emulsion ate into his skin, taking it down to the bone, eating everything, even his clothes. The gun fell from his hand as his fingers disappeared. As his skeleton teetered, the emulsion disappeared back into Echo's antlers as fast as it had arrived, the crystal seamlessly sealing back up. The skeleton crashed to the floor, breaking the spell that had held them in its thrall.

" _Holy shit_. We've got to get out of here." Jose turned to run. "What's the matter with Chloe?" She was lying on the floor in a fetal position, Teddy at her side, blood running out of his little body, pooling under them. Teddy's pupils were fixed, Chloe's glazed and unfocused. Scotty knelt at her side, feeling for her pulse. Panicking, he screamed for Echo, who already had her tail in the air sending out her healing to Teddy.

"We have to go, Scotty. Let me take her. You grab Echo and Teddy."

"No, I'll take Chloe, Echo needs to heal her." He pushed Jose away, gagging on the smell of sulfur.

"Stop. _This is my sister._ You know it's forbidden for Echo to heal more people. Chloe's just fainted." As Jose's voice broke, Scotty backed away allowing Jose to scoop up his sister. They ran to the next room where the monkeys stood at the front of their cages, mouths agape, tiny hands gripping the bars to see what was happening. Jose glanced away.

Running to the SUV, he slid her onto the back seat, then belted her in. Scotty lifted Teddy and Echo into the Jeep, having first deposited Chloe's suitcase on the front seat. Teddy appeared dazed but on the road to recovery.

"Watch Chloe, I'll be right back." Crossing the road, he ran over to the Jeep. "I need you, girl." Echo stood up and jumped into Jose's arms. Together they ran back to the mansion. It only took a few minutes before they were back outside, the elderly monkeys following, recipients of Echo's implants. They calmly but quickly leaped into the back of Scotty's Jeep, sitting quietly like a group of little wise men, their diminutive fingers busy grooming to keep themselves soothed.

"I couldn't leave them behind. They're innocent." Jose started his SUV while Scotty ran back to his Jeep. Hurrying home with Chloe on the backseat, Jose wondered if the obvious evacuation of the guards and staff at the Nasir mansion had anything to do with the flight from Sarasota that Abby was planning. Clearly, something bad was going to happen, he just didn't know when. He thanked God that he had decided to come back to Florida instead of waiting for Abby on Lily Pond Road. That decision had, astonishingly, brought his sister back into his life. He wiped his hands across his eyes, his tears hot, his eyes swollen. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs to relieve his overwhelming feelings of impotence. He wanted to punish the selfish psychopaths himself. He wept painfully with the knowledge of how his family had been used in such a brutal and monstrous fashion.

He watched the monkeys in the rearview mirror. They had saved his life in Costa Rica. The least he could do was return the favor.

He would take them on the yacht with Abby's cats and dogs. Maybe they would help him recover from the shock of this savage revelation. At the worst, the monkeys would remind him of the small satisfaction he had got watching Andrew Brooks' self-satisfied smug face as it disintegrated in front of him.

# Chapter 16

The suburban Dallas landscape reveled in the hot and dusty weather—just what the suburbanites expected every day. Joe wouldn't actually call it suburbia though. There was not a house in sight for ten miles. His gritty tired blue eyes looked down the road seeing just raw dust and scrub. Hot and dusty didn't quite cover it either. Try roasting and scorching. He lifted his sweat-soaked ten gallon off his pounding noggin, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He could feel dust collecting in the crevices of his clean-cut athletic features. He spat on the hard-packed clay under his feet, feeling the grit on his teeth. Behind him, he could smell the heat radiating off the hot tarmac, creating shimmering windows which blocked his view of the line of private planes along the side of the hanger.

He glanced at his watch, seeing his new employer was ten minutes late. Nothing to get his dander up about as Jenny would tell him. She had made great strides with him since the baby had been born. She really knew how to create a relaxed and harmonious ambience in their gracious Dallas village home. It was for the baby, of course. But it helped him relax too. He smiled to himself, as he realized the strides he had made in his ability to manage his stress had come directly from Jenny and the baby. He was sorry they hadn't started a family as soon as they were married.

Their first serious meeting had occurred on a long layover in Buffalo, New York where they had been snowed in due to a winter storm heading toward the frigid town. As part of the flight crew, the pilots had all been invited to an impromptu party in a suite the flight attendants had located. He and his co-pilot had decided to attend, even though he usually avoided such events. Not because he wasn't interested. It was just that as one of the few single pilots in the fleet, he was always a target for husband-hunting flight attendants. He preferred to date back home in Dallas.

He had noticed Jenny once before on another flight, but they hadn't had the opportunity to talk. Her pretty feminine face was something he would have been attracted to anyway, but he had been charmed to find she was a woman with varied interests beyond her job. That meant no shop talk for her, another bonus in his book. Joe and Jenny. It hadn't taken long.

The baby had come three years after they were married. Jenny left her job to become a full-time mother. That meant he needed to pick up the slack with some freelance flying on the side. A pilot for hire on short-term jobs, just the puddle jumpers. His schedule was flexible enough that he had been able to fit in a couple jobs per month, without any effect on his responsibility to his airline.

He had been contacted for this flight through his online ad on an aviation site. It had turned out to be a good source of business for him. He glanced at his watch again. Now they were twenty minutes late. He knew he was overly punctual. He had to be. But he felt surprised that they were late. His plan consisted of flying an executive and some trade show supplies to Vegas for a convention. Eyeballing the small planes on the tarmac through the heat shimmers, he didn't see anything he thought suitable for his executive. Except for the light jet on the end, by itself. A Citation CJ4. A little fancy for a remote little airport like this, and he didn't think they would use anything that big for one man and a couple of cardboard boxes of brochures.

The searing heat beat down, sucking his energy, leaving behind a tired and flagging spirit. The client had specifically asked that he wait outside the shack that served as the cool spot for filing flight plans. _Damn_. He hoped he wasn't getting stood up. He pulled out his cellphone, checking the dial. Nothing there. Well, at least he had their deposit.

A faint rumble intruded on his thoughts. He looked down the road to see a plain white delivery van approach, coated in road dust. He didn't really expect the van to be his executive. In his experience, they liked to travel in style. Limos and private drivers. Especially executives who could afford to travel in private jets, even if they were only hired for the moment.

He watched the two men from the truck walk toward him. They both looked dark skinned, faintly Middle Eastern. Their clothes were ordinary to shabby. Not what he expected. A faint tingle of alarm sounded in the back of his head. Everyone knew to be suspicious of middle eastern types around aircraft these days. He dismissed his concern as overly suspicious. What would be the odds? Nothing abnormal had ever happened to him in his thirty eight years of life.

"You Joseph Lansing?" The tall one held out his hand. "I am Abdul Ahad. I am pleased to meet you. This is my associate, Tarek." Joe shook hands with them both. Tarek said nothing. Abdul seemed to be in a state. Joe could see sweat beading on his forehead as fast as the heat sucked it away. _Is the man sick_?

"You okay there, Abdul?" He glanced with concern at Tarek who punched Abdul in the arm and mumbled some Arab words to him. They must have helped because he straightened up and gave a quick weak smile. Joe's tingle of alarm grew stronger. _Nah, I must be watching too much television_.

"Captain Lansing, I would first like to show you what you will be flying." Tarek motioned with his hand to the end of the runway and the Citation. Together they strolled toward the jet, while Abdul peeled off to bring up the van. As the van passed them, Jose noticed it seemed to be riding low on its shocks.

"So, Tarek, you're my passenger?"

"No, Captain. Abdul is your passenger." They had reached the Citation as the white van pulled up to the jet for unloading.

"Now hold on there, Tarek. My understanding is I'll be flying a corporate executive to Vegas for a convention. Seems there's a small misunderstanding here." His tingle had now turned into a jackhammer and he knew he had to get out of there.

"No misunderstanding, Captain." Tarek smoothly extracted a handgun from underneath his loose cotton shirt. "You are flying to Las Vegas, Nevada. Home to the hedonistic capitalistic western devils. My friend Abdul is more than a stupid western executive. He is a martyr for his homeland, his family and his religion."

_Oh, shit, are you kidding me_? His bowels took a hit as they loosened. "Hey, hey, buddy. This isn't my fight. I've got a family, a brand new baby."

" _Shut up_." Tarek raked Joe with the butt of his handgun, the warm metal leaving a gash across the side of his temple to his eyebrow. The blood flowed heavily down his face. On a signal from Tarek, Abdul opened the back of the van, releasing three other men who began pulling something to the edge of the tailpipe. They left it resting there while they released the hatch and pulled down the storage door to the jet. Joe could not make out what the object was, but he had a pretty good idea.

" _You can't make me do this_." Joe's brave words didn't even merit a comment. He was yanked back and dragged to the rear of the van where they knocked him to the ground and kicked him repeatedly. Pulling him up, he had difficulty breathing. His ribs felt busted where the more vicious kicks had landed. His head was pounding from his contusions and the heat made his injuries feel ten times more painful.

Tarek grabbed a fistful of his thick black hair, yanking his head back. The sun beat down unmercifully on his bloody face. He glanced to the side, noticing that Tarek had something in his hand.

"Let me show you what a good photographer Abdul is." He thrust a photograph in Joe's face. Joe squinted, vainly trying to make out the figures in the photo. As the blood cleared from his eye, he saw one of the men from the van holding a tiny baby in his arms, facing the camera and smiling. In the background he could clearly see the form of a bald woman making love to a man. No, her hands were tied and being held by another man. _She was being raped._ _God no, please_. He could make out the feminine features of his Jenny's face as she lay screaming, her mouth opened wide while the man atop raped her. And her hair, what—? He squinted. It looked like her hair had been yanked out by the roots; blood and clumps of hair littered the floor around her head.

"What a lovely baby boy you have, Captain. If you would like him to remain a boy, you will cooperate. Let us commence with our preflight checklist. Are we on the same page now?"

Joe barely heard what the man had said. He knew his life was over. Tears slipped from his eyes at the thought of them hurting their baby. And Jenny. He wondered if she was still alive. His knees buckled, crashing him to the ground. They pulled him to his feet.

"I think the Captain needs a little incentive." Tarek held out his hand. One of the men slapped a cellphone in his palm. Looking at the dial he pressed a number and held it to his ear, then gave an order in Arabic. The phone was then held up to Joe's ear. He could hear an infant screaming in the background. Then Jenny.

" _Joe, they have the baby. Do what they want. Please Joe. They have the baby_." She sounded hysterical.

"Well, Captain, shall we begin?" Tarek snapped the cellphone closed. Feeling like a zombie, Joe allowed himself to be led to the cockpit. He was on autopilot, going through the motions. In his numbed state, one thing was clear to him. He would not survive this. Nor would his family. He wiped away bitter tears, trying to think of the love he and Jenny had been lucky enough to share, if only for a while. That was all you had on this Earth. A while.

He looked over to the man guarding him as he moved around in the cockpit, readying his flight. He glanced back to the lounge and saw Tarek hand a gun to Abdul. He could see from the cockpit that whatever had been on the van was now stowed away in the belly of the jet. He looked away as Tarek came forward. The Arab nodded to the man guarding him, instructing him to leave the cockpit.

"Your wife and child will be released once this flight has reached its destination. I do not want you disturbed by the images of what will happen to your wife and child if this plane does not arrive in Las Vegas. My disappointment will be swift. Abdul will be left onboard to guide you. He is a simple man with a simple task. But you are not to underestimate his determination to martyr himself. Are we clear?"

Joe stared at the man holding the gun on him, wondering what kind of life he must lead to be able to do this to an innocent family. _Or is he just insane_?

"I asked you if all is clear to you. Did you not hear me?" The gun was at his throat, painfully pressed against his Adam's apple.

"Yes, yes, I understand." His movements seemed to be in slow motion as he fastened himself in. Clearly there was to be no flight plan filed. He wondered if the airport would alert the authorities.

"A flight plan was filed for you this morning. We could not take the chance with you, now could we? And yes, I realize you have probably guessed our cargo, but fear not. You are not the only one. Another plane will take off two hours after you, for another destination. It is headed for New York City. We know the plane will never get close enough to the city to do any damage so we plan to offload to a waiting truck. The authorities will be so busy with the results of your little excursion that they will be too busy to check all of the small little ways one can penetrate the defensive line of such a big city. But we will not be suspected this time. The Pakistani government will be blamed. On instruction from China and Russia, of course. Everyone knows how Pakistan betrays the U.S. as it sucks away at your taxpayers' money. And you know the Israelis will have to respond when their wounded devil cousin demands retribution.

"Can you see the delightful possibilities?" His face shined, greasy with religious fervor, demonic malevolence making his eyes glitter. Joe looked away, wanting to be sick, wishing he could die now. He had no reason to live with his family in their hands. His life was done.

Leaning over his seat, he vomited. Tarek looked down, seeing the vomit splash his socks and his sandals. He glared in disgust.

"What do you expect?" Wiping his mouth on the tail of his shirt, Joe fatalistically turned back to his gauges. "What if I told you I'm too sick to fly?"

"I would have to call my associates keeping company with your wife and baby. I would then have to ask them if they were feeling too sick to do their jobs. What do you think they might say?"

Joe decided to keep his mouth shut. He rubbed his stomach, hoping it would settle down. There was nothing he could do or say to change what was going to happen. Everything that mattered to him had been viciously snatched away. He stared blankly out the windshield, feeling venom in his blood. Nothing he could do? Nothing . . .? He shut his eyes for a second then took a deep breath. _These scum fuckers haven't heard the last of Mama Lansing's oldest boy Joe. Not by a long shot_ . . .

# Chapter 17

Kenya McCready tried unsuccessfully to make herself comfortable in Captain Cobby's stateroom. Pregnancy sure brought out the chivalry in a man. Even though he had kindly insisted she rest in his own cabin, she still could not rid herself of the conflicting smells of salt water, wet fur, dung and fish. This was definitely not her idea of a cushy break from the sanctuary. She rubbed her expanding middle reflexively. Sauntering over to the side of the room, she opened the porthole in case she needed to vomit. Her stomach rebelled, queasy from the slight rocking motion of the yacht. _Yeah, the yacht's the real deal_. She wished the girls back at the home could see her here. But without the animals. _And the smells_. Maybe with an icy margarita, some jive-ass tunes and one or two sizzling hot, fine pieces of dude flesh to hang on her every gesture.

*

An hour ago, she had stood at the side of the extra-wide metal gangplank attached from the dock to the yacht. The animals had placidly trudged over the gangplank. Terrified to cut in line, especially when the camels started to board, she had decided she would happily wait her turn, preferring to evade the brunt of their wicked kicks.

The craziest thing had been the cats: the lions and the tigers. They had chuffed, unusually alert, heads moving like metronomes, slowly taking stock of their surroundings. Yet they had showed no reaction to the unusual situation. They had single-mindedly padded onboard, deliberately taking their time. No fighting. Not even a quick spat with a kennel mate.

She had thought it looked like a contrived scene from a movie. As she had marveled at the behavior of the cats, she had seen two men working furiously inside the yacht directing the animals where to go once they had made it onboard. The cats, bears and the ungulates had made themselves comfortable on the large, slippery fiberglass deck. The camels had settled down nicely, looking very comfortable, sitting with their legs tucked under their big brown bodies. Their curly heads had swayed this way and that, long batting eyelashes above expressive eyes which missed nothing.

The bears, all eight of them, had taken up more than their share of room at the bow of the yacht. Massive furry craniums had rested on commodious haunches to create a seamless clique.

Her attention had veered to the back of the line where Abby stood, trying to hurry along the herd of goats. She had motioned to Kenya, waving her over.

"I need Captain Cobby and his son Kane. Go onboard and find them for me, please. I need them to help me with the turtles. Go ahead now."

Kenya had eyed the gangplank. The goats had reached the yacht and boarded, funneling to the deck next to the cats. _Oh boy_. She had winced as they settled down next to the felines. The gangplank had been almost clear. A troop of ring-tail lemurs, after prancing their way across the lawn, had joined her as she took her turn on the gangplank.

"Captain Cobby? Captain?" Kenya had waved her hand in the air as the two men had looked up, watching her waddle onto the yacht, all long caramel legs and belly. "Oh, Captain Cobby, Abby needs you. You too, chicky." Eyeing Kane, she had placed her hand on her back to support her spine. "Something about the turtles. She probably needs help lifting them."

"Miss, you look like you could use a place to lie down." The captain had taken her arm, unexpectedly directing her through the salon to the cabins. He had opened the first door they had come to. "Take mine, it'll be safe for you here." Clearly trying to get her out of the way, he had smiled charmingly, then closed the door with her safely inside.

Yeah, inside with all the rocking and the disgusting smells. Fuming, she paced the small room, missing all the action. She fingered a golden hoop dangling from her ear. _What about the hunk of hotness who appears to be the captain's son_? Maybe this little jaunt wouldn't be all work, after all. If she didn't get out of this cabin, she wouldn't be meeting anyone. She wondered what had happened to Abby's brother, Scotty. Yeah, two hot guys who could be at her beck and call. Excitement at the juicy opportunity made her bold.

Turning to the stateroom door, she cracked it open, finding no one about. Listening, she could hear banging from above.

Cautiously, she crept across the salon to the stairs, side-stepping a troop of elderly monkeys. She glanced down at her foot, her sneaker landing on something squishy. She wrinkled her nose and wiped it on the side of the steps. _Ah, why bother. It's not like it won't happen again_. Slowly, she ascended the stairs, peering around the deck. The coast was clear. She scampered back toward the gangplank in time to see everyone rushing across the yard to the yacht.

The strange man she had met on their arrival held a young girl in his arms. _Jose_ , she remembered. He was crying. Scotty ran alongside them with his funky little pet on his hip. _Is he crying too_? The captain's son carried a Louis Vuitton suitcase, _probably a fake_ , she sniffed. Abby and the captain shouted to get out of the way, manhandling a large thirty-five-pound wood tortoise between them. She backed up against the railing, quickly removing herself from their path.

The sound of a gruff broken motor drew her attention to the ground behind the procession. Bringing up the rear, an overlooked tiny brown dog tried to keep up. He looked like a long-haired toy poodle with a turned-up nose. She could hardly make out his features. He just looked like an entirely curly brown mop head. Brown eyes without any white, brown drop of a nose, barely discernible brown lips. _Except for his teeth_ , she realized, as he grimaced comically up at her. _Itty bitty white chicklets_. He looked like a baby werewolf. As the crowd rushed past her, she scooped him up. He snuggled up on her shoulder against her neck, just like he belonged there. Flicking his teeny pink tongue out, he licked her cheek, a quick thank you. _Yes, I do have that effect on men and boys._ Giving the little dog a soft kiss, she carried him back down into the salon where all the action was congregating.

The salon reeked with noise and hot smells. Jose placed the young girl on the sofa where she lay unconscious. Abby and the captain clambered down the stairs after having secured the turtle. Jose started yelling at Abby.

"What the hell is going on here? These are the cats you told me about? _Are you kidding me_? And I guess you just forgot to mention the bears?" Kenya decided to find a quiet seat in the corner where she could sort out who was who. Looking past Abby to the doorway, she saw a man and woman enter the salon. A child trailed behind them. _Holy Christ_. It looked as if they had been beaten. She knew exactly what those bruises meant. Bracing the little brown dog still perched comfortably on her shoulder, she took a seat at the granite table near the galley and tuned in, trying to make sense of all the shouting voices.

"I told you we have cats." Abby turned away to open a door which let out a deluge of dogs. A liver and white springer spaniel, a small skunky looking Shih Tzu, and a pumped up curly-haired, white mutt which ran over to Abby's brother, jumping up on his leg. The funny little creature he called his pet flew out of Scotty's arms to land on the back of the white dog's neck, where he perched, wrapping his skinny leathery arms around the dog as if it was his long lost buddy. Scotty spoke from the sofa where he sat holding the young girl's hand.

"They're not dangerous. Echo implanted them. They do exactly what we want them to do. We had to save them, Jose. Can we worry about the cats later? What about Chloe?"

Abby's cute brother was mighty concerned about the girl on the sofa. A colorful macaw abruptly flew into the salon, touching down atop the stainless steel refrigerator next to her. She carefully opened the refrigerator, juggling the little brown dog on her shoulder. Scanning the shelves, she grabbed an apple. Removing a knife from the drawer at the sink, she sliced into the apple, handing a piece to the macaw. The brilliantly feathered creature took it in his claw and made himself busy eating, as if he knew all along that refrigerators were for perching on and copping fresh goodies. Turning back to the crowded salon, she saw everyone staring at her.

"Hey, chickies." She gave a cute little salute and took her seat at the table. She felt the pointed stare of the moon-faced guy who had entered with the beaten woman and child. She thought the woman could be pretty if she didn't have the cut down the side of her face, ending with a poorly stitched lip. The man's round bespectacled face bore into her own; telegraphing suspicious hostility. _Hey, what'd I do_? The dorky guy turned his back to her, opening his mouth to speak as the captain pushed him aside.

"We're all loaded. The trucks are on their way to Tampa. They'll meet us at the dock. I think it would help if everyone sat down and we filled them in on the plan. We need to get organized down here so I can cast off. Everyone here is going?"

Kenya sprang up out of her chair.

" _Hey_ , I'm not going anywhere. You have to let me off and take me back. I got responsibilities, ya know."

Abby raised her hand at Kenya. "Give me a minute, will you? I'll let you make up your own mind about what you want to do. Although I would prefer that you decide to come with us. That's an invitation, of course." She lowered her hand, turning back to the crowd in the salon.

"Why did you bring Chloe onboard? Is she sick?"

Scotty started to speak the same time as Jose, who still shed silent tears. "I tried to tell you. Chloe is my sister."

Abby looked skeptical at Jose's words.

"What—?"

"Please, just listen to me. We've been through _hell_. Did you know Chloe's father turned out to be Omar Nasir? Her Uncle Brooks was the same Senor Brooks who orchestrated my adoption to the Diaz family. Those monkeys over there are his." He pointed to the elderly troop that had made themselves comfortable all over the elegant sideboard near Kenya. "Remember Scotty telling us about them? Well, they're the very same monkeys that lived down the street from my house when I was a boy and my parents were murdered. The whole thing was some kind of a plot to steal a baby for Nasir's wife. _Chloe is my baby sister. They stole her and murdered my parents_." Jose broke down, cradling the young girl in his arms, his tears dripping down into her hair.

" _My God_." Abby and Scotty looked shocked to the core. The captain and his son looked uneasy, Captain Cobby's face draining of color.

"This is Omar Nasir's daughter? Kane, you must have known that. They've lived on the island for years. Why didn't you say something?"

"Dad, Chloe is younger than me so I never paid that much attention. It's not like I hung out with her until Scotty started to date her. I didn't grow up around here like everyone else, remember?" The bitterness in his voice caught Kenya's ear. She stood up, clapping her hands over the din.

"We've got to call the cops. No, the newspapers. This is big." Kenya whipped out her cellphone, looking over to Abby with raised eyebrows.

"No, Kenya, the police can't do anything. They're all dead. They're dead." Jose wept, blubbering through his tears as Abby held his hand.

"Baby, tell me what happened. Who's dead?" Abby looked back up at her brother. "Scotty, what happened?"

Without warning, Abby, Scotty and Jose froze, then turned to the funny little creature with the fanny pack and shades. They appeared to be waiting for the little guy to talk to them.

"What bad man, Echo?" They continued looking at the creature. Abby suddenly made a fist and brought it to her mouth. " _Oh my God_. Echo killed him?" She turned back to her brother.

"Yeah. Looks like Chloe's uncle killed Mrs. Elbarad, too. We saw him shoot Chloe's father."

" _He wasn't her father_." The bitterness in Jose's voice brought their attention back to the young girl. Kenya was just beginning to realize Abby's brother might be involved with her. Chloe. She watched as he stroked her hair, her head lying motionless on Jose's lap. _Hmmm, the girl must be a little older than I first thought. But what was that action with the creature? Oh yeah, that's right. Her name's Echo. I'm sure Abby was talking to the creature. Echo. And it seemed like Echo gave her an answer right back_. She was starting to get nervous. _Just what the fuck's happening here_?

"Uh, Abby?" She stood and waved her hand to get Abby's attention. She started to squirm with everyone's attention on her. "I think I should go now." She plastered a great big smile on her face, feeling her facial muscles rebel. "I think you can handle everything from here, so I'll just say goodbye." Edging to the stairs, she backed up as she spoke.

"Peter, can you handle Miss McCready for me, please? She must need to lie down by now." Nodding at Kenya's obvious condition, Abby pointed toward the cabins.

"No, no, that's okay, I feel fine." Kenya kept the smile beaming as the dorky guy with the specs attempted to maneuver her to the cabin hallway. He shoved her through the door to one of the smaller cabins, isolating her from everyone.

"Kenya dear, would you please have a seat?"

She shot him an imperious evil eye. Peter the dork couldn't have sounded any more patronizing if he tried. "Don't think so, chicky. Either you let me out of here, or I'm calling my lawyer. By the way, what's with everyone wearing the stupid wraparound shades? Not cool at all. Did you see them on the weird-oh pet of Scott's?"

"I _am_ a lawyer. They have eye infections. Now sit down."

She could see his temper start to sizzle beneath his oh so prissy manners. His face looked like it had been dipped in blanched putty, all saggy and stiff. Almost like he had lost the ability to show expression. Weird dude.

"That's better. So where do you live?"

"What's it to you?" She perched carefully on the edge of the only chair in the cramped room. Taking her time, she primly smoothed her white shorts, crossing her shapely legs as if she were waiting for her royal escort to arrive to sweep her away to the ball.

"Quite the prima donna, aren't you?" He sat with his head cocked, as if listening for something. Just as she was going to let him have it, she heard a noise which could only mean the engines were starting. The yacht slowly glided away from the dock. She saw the shore diminishing through the porthole to Peter's left.

"Oh no, you don't." She bounced up out of the chair before he could stop her, swinging open the cabin door, prepared to give Abby a very unflattering piece of her mind. She stopped dead as if she had been struck by a lightning bolt. Her eyes beheld a glowing brilliance— _was it gold? No, it was all different colors_ —generating from Abby, Jose and Scott's eyes. She backed up, smacking into Peter as he emerged from the hallway. Pushing her aside he sat down next to the child, who appeared to belong to the woman with the gruesome lip. Without commenting, he spoke softly to Abby, who, along with Jose and her brother, had removed their shades to light up the room. Dumbfounded, she collapsed on the floor, finally speechless. Her mind raced, her flight or fight instinct engaged, honed by all the years she had taken care of herself. She was finding it near impossible to accept that the incandescent colors were coming from their eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze landing on Scott's pet, Echo, as she observed it removing its ridiculous sunglasses to expose the same luminous eyes. _What the heck_?

She couldn't move even if she wanted to. Her heart hammered in her throat, saliva turning to chalky mud in her mouth. Her muscles chattered so hard she could hear them. _Oh, God, please save me from the monsters. I promise to be a good girl from now on. Well—I mean at least for the next five years or so._

Finding her voice, she croaked, "May I pretty please go home now?" Her croaking trailed off to a forlorn hopeless whisper. Abby slowly walked toward her, lustrous orbs zeroing in on her like a female king cobra assessing her afternoon snack. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse as Kenya tried to melt into the polished teak floor.

"You're not going to eat me now, are you?" She leaned back as far as she could.

"No, we're going to wait until you ripen up a little more."

Looking up at Abby, she felt her face drain of blood.

"Got'cha—chicky." Abby doubled over, laughing. Scott joined her with a half-hearted chuckle. The tension receded.

"Was that really necessary, babe? Don't we have enough to handle without making things worse? You okay, young lady?" Jose's small kindness started the waterworks. She was pregnant, after all. She told herself she hadn't been frightened anyway. _Hormones, remember_? She squinted up at Abby, speculation getting the best of her.

"Don'cha think that was a little mean?"

"Come on, that was a good one. I just couldn't resist. I've been under extreme stress for a while now, I just needed a little comic relief. And I don't even _have_ a sense of humor. Just ask anybody. You better now?"

"Well—not really. I'm not happy about getting stuck on a yacht with a bunch of strangers who have eyes that look like they were special ordered from the devil. And did I mention there are some hungry lions and tigers and a gang of six-hundred-pound bears running around upstairs?" She closed her eyes for a minute, overwhelmed by the recitation of her plight. From across the elegant salon, she noticed Scotty scrutinize her, his expression one of pity and resignation.

"Chicky, you haven't seen anything yet," Scotty said. His sister threw him an impatient look.

"Hon, listen to me. I'm going to explain everything." Abby started to sound reasonable.

"The eyes?"

"Yes, the eyes and much more." Abby sighed deeply, extending an encouraging smile. "The bad news is you won't believe a word of it so, to cut to the chase, I'm going to have to show you something. Do I have your permission?"

"Well, chicky, of course you do. Let 'er rip." Kenya felt measurable relief. Her body started to relax, her adrenaline tamped itself back down. _Gee, why does Abby have to make such a big deal about it_? She was sure there was a simple explanation for those eyes. _Didn't_ Petah _say they came from an infection_? She peeked around Abby's legs to see what his highness was doing, when Abby's shirt suddenly hit the floor. _What the heck_?

"Hey, ladybug, I'm up here." Kenya looked up from the floor to see a sight so shockingly incomprehensible, her only split-second thought revolved around the random luck that she happened to already be sitting on the floor as she felt her mind surrender to the more welcoming blackness waiting to claim her as she slumped over, dead to all.

# Chapter 18

Scotty and Kenya collapsed on the green Haitian cotton lounger in the salon while Abby busied herself making drinks in the kitchen. They expected to be docking in Tampa in less than an hour. Everyone decided they could use a good stiff one before they started the next leg of their journey, psyching themselves up for the rush to the airport . . .

They left Jose in one of the cabins with Chloe. She had miraculously regained consciousness shortly after Kenya fainted. Kane, trying to be helpful, took responsibility for Kenya, helping her to her feet and moving her to an upholstered chaise while everyone else hovered over Chloe. Peter moved topside with the captain, who was alone with the animals as he steered the boat as quickly as possible to Tampa, trying to artfully dodge other pleasure boats as they wandered close enough to spot the unusual nature of the _Lucky Lady's_ passengers.

Ginger Mae and Daisy sat silent, huddled together and obsessively following everyone's movements with their shell-shocked eyes. Scotty craned his neck up over Kenya, surreptitiously observing Ginger Mae. The poor woman could barely talk, her lip bloated and swollen. She nodded her head to indicate her gratitude to Abby as she set a crystal snifter of brandy on the Lucite table next to her.

Overhead, occasional sounds filtered into the salon through the open stairwell, proof that the animals hadn't deserted the yacht. The elderly monkeys continued their vigil on the sideboard, looking quite relaxed and content with their newly claimed territory. The macaw busily decorated the sides of the refrigerator with evidence of a prolific digestive system.

Scotty wondered what shape the yacht would be in by the time they got to Tampa. Listlessly he realized the yacht might not even be here for the long haul. Abby's shocking rant about the upcoming cataclysmic event had shaken them to the core. He remembered the incredulous faces in the salon as she had laid out her plan. Even Kenya, recovering on the chaise, had been speechless. He could bet _that_ wasn't a common occurrence.

"I don't think that one over there likes me." Kenya pointed to the posse.

"What, you mean Echo?" She was mounted around Barney's neck as usual. Barney was facing the hallway to the cabins. Kenya was positioned directly across the room facing the back of Barney's head. It should have been the back of Echo's head too but, in typical Echo fashion, she had swiveled her head around, doing a one-eighty, to stare at Kenya as her body faced the hallway with Barney's.

_Yeah_ , Scotty thought . . . _creepy_. "Nah, she likes you. She's just been unusually quiet lately."

"So, she does talk?"

"Yeah, but I think she can only talk to people that she's cured. Something about the cure starts the changes. We don't understand any of it. I'm not sure if she does either. She can be very cryptic when she communicates. We get colored pictures of words, sometimes thoughts. Maybe some of it is lost in translation. She's actually very lovable. She's part of the family. As you can see, she adores my dog. Actually, she thinks Barney belongs to her."

They watched Barney inch down to lie flat on the floor. Echo bent over without taking her eyes off Kenya. Her long supple fingers reached out to the floor, tapping on the hardwood like a blind man with a cane until they rested on little Mimi. Her fingers gently stroked Mimi's silken head. Mimi rose instantly, scooting closer to Barney where Echo promptly scooped her up, depositing her lovingly on Barney's head where she could cuddle her.

"Wow, she's just like a little person. I don't know, chicky. How do you know she won't eat them?"

Scotty could see the suspicious calculations going on in her pretty head. He was having a tough time getting a handle on her. He didn't know many black girls, or girls in general. He figured she was possibly the hottest girl he'd ever seen up close. Very opinionated, very pregnant. And she was funny, although he suspected she would not be pleased with his assessment. Except for the hot part.

"Echo doesn't eat anything. She takes what she needs from the sun. Her mouth seems to be for respiration, cooling her body. Like a dog. Although she doesn't have a tongue. No teeth either. Hmm, I wonder if that connection means anything."

"Listen, chicky." She turned to face him, her big exotic cow eyes speaking their own language. "I have a problem here. You all know each other. I'm the new girl. Now I know you have something going with little Chloe." He winced, hearing how that sounded. "I could sure use a friend. A cute guy like you," her eyes were making a move," can handle that, can't you?" She brightened, "We'll be buds. Yeah, I like that. What do you say?" He couldn't ignore the animal magnetism trying to drown him.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." God, he sounded like a boob. He could feel a creeping red flush set his face on fire.

"I think your wings are, like, major cool. I wouldn't mind having a set a them myself."

"Yes, you would. So far, they're just in the way." He pulled back quickly as he heard Kane's big feet clump down the stairs.

"Hey, guys." Scotty could see Kane's eyes register the cozy scene between him and Kenya. Flopping down on the lounger next to Kenya's vacant side, Kane fumbled in the ripped pocket of his faded shorts to pull out a handkerchief. Giving his sun-bronzed face a good swab, he mopped up the sweat from his handsome mug. Scotty wondered if the sweat was from the roasting sun or the cats which stared like lasers, cataloguing their every move. Kane furtively glanced at Kenya to see if she was paying attention.

"I don't see why we had to do this the hard way. We could have zipped up the interstate right to the airport."

"We never would have made it that far. You can bet the cops are looking for us by now. On the highways, of course. Where else would the trucks go? Who would ever expect someone to load up a pleasure cruiser with uncaged lions and tigers? That good enough for you, Kane?" They all jerked toward the galley as Abby's sarcasm plowed into Kane.

"Look guys, you don't have to second guess me. Echo and I've considered every angle. We'll make it to safety in one piece. If you have any questions, it's all right, just ask me." She walked toward Kane with a gin and tonic in her hand. Passing it over, she admonished him.

"One only. We'll be docking soon." She smiled, her hand drifting to his shoulder in reassurance. "I know it's been a shock. It's hard on all of us. And it'll get harder. But we'll be _safe_."

Abby stopped speaking as Jose joined them from the hallway, a pitiful portrait of a man trying to function on a depleted emotional reservoir. Scotty could see that he was on the verge of a breakdown, too many shocks to the system. How would anyone feel, arriving home after a long absence to find your girlfriend pulling the rug out from under the new life you'd just finished creating? Pile on the mother of all coincidences: the inconceivable events at Chloe's house which had led to the shocking discovery of her true identity. Way too much to deal with. He knew that Jose would need to quickly come to terms with Abby's bizarre rescue and the ambiguity of a mysterious impending disaster. She needed his support. On top of it all, her easy familiarity around Captain Cobby had not escaped his notice.

"Let me get you something to drink. How about something for Chloe?" Abby snapped to attention as Jose eased himself into a comfortable chair near Ginger Mae. Leaning toward her, he extended a tired hand.

"How're you making out? I'm Jose Diaz."

Ginger Mae stared at the hand left hanging in mid-air as if it was a stinky fish. She appeared puzzled as to what she should do with it. Abby hurried over with ice water for Jose.

"That's okay, Ginger Mae." She patted her shoulder, trying to smooth over the moment. Ginger Mae recoiled as if struck by a venomous serpent. Scotty could see pricks of suspicion in the poor woman's eyes. No one spoke as Ginger Mae tossed her head, attempting a pose of dignity. She self-consciously brushed at her skirt, modestly smoothing it over her knees. Wrapping her arms around little Daisy, her eyes slammed shut like a closed door announcing no one was home.

Kane and Kenya exchanged glances, rolling their eyes questioningly. Jose let his hand drop limply to his side, clearly too burdened with his own pain to recognize the same damage in Ginger Mae.

"Let me see if I can help," Kenya whispered to Scotty. Rising from the chaise longue, she joined them on the sofa, her long model's legs tucked tightly against the upholstery. Ginger Mae watched her move across the room, her face impassive. Kenya sat casually, glancing at Ginger Mae with a gentle warm smile. No big movements. Scotty could see Ginger Mae visibly relax. A few moments passed. Ginger Mae studied Kenya from the corner of her eyes. Then she unexpectedly reached out to touch Kenya's riotous mane of extravagant hair. She caressed it tentatively, a shadow of a smile on her ruined lips.

"That's alright, chicky." Kenya was so overcome by the tenderness of the gesture, she gently swept the woman into her arms where Ginger Mae finally broke down, drenching Kenya with her hot bitter tears. _Well look at that_ , Scotty thought. _Good for Kenya. Now maybe some small healing can begin._

The touchingly raw moment was interrupted by Captain Cobby's arrival. He stomped heavily down the stairs from his station at the helm, leaving Peter to keep watch, tension deeply imbedded in his posture. _Not much different from anyone else_ , Scotty observed wryly.

"Abby, I need to speak with you. I just heard from the harbor master." He removed his cap, sweeping his short gray-flecked dark curly hair, damp from the sweat on his forehead, back out of the way. He had an unmistakable aura of adult confidence. _Or is it something else_? Scotty wondered. He noticed Kenya had fluffed up her hair and artfully arranged her legs as she propped up Ginger Mae, stealing looks at the captain.

"How about a glass of water?"

"Sure, Cobby." Abby presented him with his water, her shoulders looking droopy. The captain took the frosted glass from her hands, setting it on a table. Turning her around, he began to massage her neck and shoulders.

"How's that feel?"

"Like heaven." She sighed, letting her head drop, obviously enjoying the sensation. She failed to notice Jose taking in the small intimacy. Scotty could read his face like a book. _What the heck's going on_? No one else reacted to the scene playing out by the steps. _Oh shit_!

" _Abby. Captain Cobby_." His voice cracked like a bullet. " _Do not move a muscle_." Now, everyone had noticed the danger. The two at the stairs froze as an eight-hundred-pound Bengal tiger descended the steps, his movements so stealthy not even a dust mote moved.

"Everyone stay calm. He won't do anything. He can't. Trust me, please." Abby's trembling voice clearly belied the confidence she had in the implants.

The enormous cat reached the bottom of the stairs. His head was gigantic, completely blocking access to the stairs. Scotty's heart ratcheted dangerously. He tried to remember to breathe as he subconsciously admired the awesome beauty of the beast. The killing machine.

The cat purposefully scanned the room, every muscle frozen as it maintained its terrifying crouch. Seconds turned into minutes which felt like hours. The hot sweet smell of its pelt suffused the room. Kenya suddenly jumped up onto the sofa, her back to the wall.

"Someone better get that stinkin' cat out a here." Her voice cracked with barely suppressed hysteria. Little Daisy suddenly found her voice, screaming at the top of her lungs. The cat ignored them both. Scotty slowly felt the room careen dangerously. His vision faded and then cleared. Shaking himself, aware that something was wrong, he finally noticed the cat focusing on him. His heart came to a stop as the beast stalked its way across the room, stopping inches away from Scotty's blood-drained face.

The tiger's eyes hypnotized him, obscuring everything else in the room. Distantly, he heard the sound of a dog barking. His attention was focused so tightly on the tiger, he could see his own glowing eyes reflected in its pupils. The hot breath bathing his face, redolent of the beast's last meal, made him queasy. The tiger abruptly sat down on his haunches, not taking his attention off Scotty. A flicker of something in the menacing beast's eye drew his attention. The tiger raised one paw off the wood floor and held it poised in front of Scotty's vulnerable face. Precious seconds ticked by as everyone held their breath, frozen in place. Slowly, eight hundred pounds of coiled muscle placed its paw on Scotty's chest. Its eyes flickered again, the strangeness more apparent, but just as ambiguous. A flash of recognition hit Scotty like a brick as he recognized the half-moon tear in the tiger's ear. It was the same tiger that had mesmerized him at the sanctuary. The tiger stood, lifted its hind leg and urinated, liberally flooding Scotty's foot, a show of dominance and ownership.

It turned to stare at the dogs, quickly padding to the corner where they huddled together. The dogs cowered, dribbling urine and whining softly. Mimi lay flat on her back, legs splayed out exposing her tender belly in submission. Penny sniffled in disdain, refusing to cower. A movement caught everyone's eye as Echo emerged from under the chair that Barney had crawled under. They held their breath, praying for the best. The tiger eyed Echo, sounding an unexpected chuff. After a split second, it turned away and bounded up the stairs.

The terrified group waited a beat before erupting.

" _Oh my God. Did he hurt you_?"

" _Chicky_ —"

" _What's happening, Echo_?"

" _I need a drink_."

" _Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy_."

Scotty sat flummoxed. What had just happened? This was not a coincidence. He watched, emotionally bankrupt, as Ginger Mae cooed unintelligible sounds to Daisy, clinging to her niece like a bear unwilling to relinquish the farmer's bee hive. Didn't he just hear Daisy call her Mommy? _Something odd there. I thought Daisy was her niece_.

"What do you think this means?" Abby looked up to Captain Cobby as if he knew all the answers. A bond of some kind definitely radiated between the two. He searched for Jose in the hot room, catching him with his eyes on Abby, reflecting injury clear as a bell. Jose dragged himself over to Scotty, mumbling something about getting back to Chloe then disappeared back down the hallway.

Scotty spotted Echo in a huddle with the posse. He sat down on the floor with them while everyone tried to calm down.

"Did you talk to that tiger, girl?"

Echo's eyes spun brightly with fragmented colors. "Yes, Brother Scotty."

"Well, what did you talk about?"

"He asked me a question."

"Well, what was the question?" Talking to Echo could drive you crazy sometimes.

"He wanted to know if I concurred."

"Concurred with what, Echo?" Scotty sighed with exasperation.

"That you are _The One_."

"Me? The one, what?"

"I can't explain it, Brother Scotty. I just know."

"Know what?"

"That you are _The One_."

_Oh, my God. I don't have the strength_. Taking a deep breath, he tried again.

"Can you tell me anything about the tiger?"

"His name is Caesar."

"Caesar?" Scotty looked confused.

"Yes, Brother. Are your ears not working?"

"Don't be a comedian, smarty." Scotty reached out and tweaked Echo's belly, making her fall flat on her rump, withdrawing the rainbows from his mind. Barney hurried over to drench her with his sloppy affection. Looking up, he saw Abby watching them. She looked worried.

"What the heck is going on with that tiger? Echo tell you anything?" She waved to Cobby who needed to return to the wheel and check the electronics. She flopped down on the floor with Scotty.

"What the heck was that scene with you and Cobby?" He could hear the anger in his voice. She shrugged with exasperation.

"What are you talking about? Don't be an idiot." She dismissed the question, her expression giving nothing away.

"Okay, Ab, play it your way." He moodily picked at his smelly wet sneakers. Didn't matter much. They were all a little smelly by now.

"So give. What did Echo say?" He pushed his feet away, his long legs stretched in front of him.

"She said Caesar wanted to know if I was the one."

"Caesar? You're on a first name basis now?"

"Echo told me his name." Abby looked skeptical but pressed him for more.

"So what do you mean, 'the one'?"

"I don't know what it means. Echo confused me. You know how she can be. I don't mean to change the subject, but do you know what you're doing here?" He glanced up, nodding his head toward the rest of the dispirited refugees in the room. "I don't think they can take much more."

Abby scanned the room, assessing their condition. "Can't be helped." She suddenly dropped her head into her hands, lifting them to each side of her temples, squeezing tightly. She raised her head as if nothing had happened. "It could get worse, kiddo. I need you to be strong. I think Jose needs some time before I can count on him."

"Are you kidding me? _These people cannot take any more_. What is wrong with you?"

Her expressionless eyes dismissed him. "Kane, maybe you could check on Jose and Chloe for me. I'd like to give him more time for his reunion, but we need him out here, now."

Giving Scotty her signature stink eye, she trudged up the stairs to cautiously check on the wildlife.

"I'll go get Jose and Chloe. You stay and relax." He wanted to allow Kane some time with Kenya. Let her cast her net on him for a while. He'll enjoy it. He tried not to stare as he crossed to the hallway in front of Ginger Mae and Daisy. Something bad had happened there. Maybe Abby knew the story. He'd have to remember to corner her again. _Peter isn't behaving much like a boyfriend, if you ask me_. Outrageously missing in action.

Disappearing into the hallway, he tried to slick back his bright hair with his hands. His clothes, still caked with the dust and battle scars from the rescue, could probably stand up on their own. _And how attractive could a tiger-urine smelling boyfriend be?_

He paused in front of the fiberglass door to the cabin which housed a fragile Jose and a devastated Chloe. Feeling inept and out of his league, he could see how easily his budding romance might get scratched right out of the gate if Chloe sank into a depression or blossomed with an identity crisis. Who could blame her? She was a young girl, still grieving for her mother. How would she handle the ramifications of seeing the man she knew as her father die at the hands of her uncle, who was then murdered by an alien from outer space? And he'd forgotten to factor in her kidnapping and the betrayal. _You just can't write this stuff._

His heart ached for her but he questioned the validity of his ability to help her. Trying to juggle his own catastrophic body changes, sudden wealth and the constant struggle to cloak his mind-bending secret, was enough to wear anyone down. Romancing a first girlfriend was hard enough in the routine of a normal life. He laughed cynically at the notion that he controlled any part of his own life.

He knocked softly at the door. Jose's sober face met his as the door squeaked open.

"How are you guys making out?" Haltingly, he slipped into the room. "Take a break, Bro, I need to see her for a while." Jose just nodded, his red-rimmed eyes indicating he clearly still felt overwhelmed. His hand reached out, tightly grasping at Scotty's arm as if to speak silently of the need for kid gloves.

"I know, Bro, I know. I'll be careful with her. Abby asked me to let you know we'll be nearing the harbor soon. I'm going to try to coax her out with me, so I'll see you topside." He carefully closed the door, pausing briefly to rest his head against the wall, collecting his composure. Turning, he put on his game face.

"Hi, Chloe." He spoke softly, mindful of disturbing any progress engendered by Jose. She lay prone, face down, Teddy curled like a hairy donut on her back. She looked up at him from the bed, her face blotchy and gray. No sign of happiness to see him. She slowly rolled over to face him, knocking Teddy off her back. Undaunted, the minx scratched at Chloe's blanket until he created an escape route underneath.

Scotty sat on the edge of the bed, just smiling down at her. He didn't feel the need to speak. She looked up, silent, her expression unreadable. A lonely tear slipped forlornly from the tip of an eyelash. Reaching out to stroke her tangled hair, he decided her silence was normal. Chloe had received a shock so great she would doubt everything for quite some time. The answer was to be her friend, reliable and caring, until she healed, ready to come back to him emotionally. It would also give him the time he needed to solve the Caesar mystery and try to help Abby get them through this damnable rush to safety. He continued stroking her hair until he was rewarded with her cold hand sliding into his.

Being teenagers had its advantages. They were resilient. Time ticked on _their_ side. Yes, he could be patient. After all, wasn't he _The One_?

THE END

# Introduction to

# Species Intervention #6609

# Book 4

# Hive

# Synopsis for Hive:

In the rush to Tampa Airport, Abby meets a small group of elephants from the famous Elizabeth Siggins Wildlife Foundation, fleeing the political horrors of Africa. Putting them under her protection and that of the Hive, she meets Tobi, the elderly matriarch of the small herd who sacrifices herself to save a human and, in return, is rewarded with the ultimate gift from the Womb.

As the bedraggled group race to the Hive for protection, saving a few desperate souls as they go, the first bomb arrives. As the survivors and the wildlife struggle to adjust to the new pecking order in the Hive and the revelations of their own origins, a woman and her two grandchildren live through the hellish horror and complete breakdown of civilization aboveground as they struggle to reach the Hive where her husband awaits.

Horror visits the struggling survivors as they learn the Earth will not support habitation for at least another hundred years. But the biggest shock comes from the Womb as it extracts a huge penalty from the hapless people, tolling the demise of the human race.

# Chapter 1

# 2057 AD

Abby and Captain Cobby stood shoulder to shoulder at the helm of the luxury yacht as it swayed with the waves, staring down the approach into Tampa Bay. Abby's heart thudded, the timbre of its pace increasing as she scanned the bay, noting the positions of other nearby craft. She knew, sooner or later, another boat would spot the unusual nature of the occupants spread around the deck of the _Lucky Lady_. She hoped to avoid that as long as possible.

"Cob, I'm getting scared. How in the world are we going to pull this off?" She began to tremble as Cobby gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him. He removed her sunglasses, braving the mesmerizing effects of her shining golden eyes to look deeper into her soul. His deeply tanned, overtly handsome masculinity blended well with all of Abby's golden fragile beauty, the contrast of their ages belying any assumption they might be lovers.

"My dear, you've gotten us this far. You can't fall apart now. Too many rely on you. We have a child and a pregnant woman onboard. They need protection and confidence from you. They can't see you waver. The rest of us know we can depend on you. I might not understand why we must do this, but I have no doubts whatsoever that this is the right thing to do. I know it's our only hope." He pulled her close, his lips brushing the golden hairs at the bridge of her noble forehead. "I'm here for you, we'll get through this. As soon as you give me the word, I'll cross the bay to the industrial docks. The trucks are all in order?"

"Yeah, they're just waiting for us." She removed her sunglasses from Cobby's hands, sliding them back into place as they heard the clatter of water buckets from the deck below.

Leaning out from under their protection from the sun, they observed poor Peter attempting to distribute water to the wildlife. Sweat dripped copiously down his red face and neck, saturating his once fresh Oxford shirt. His glasses sat askew on his red nose as his body shook from fright, warring with his implant's directions and his own fight or flight response to the threat perceived from the wild beasts.

"He sure looks pathetic. How's he holding up?" Cobby turned to Abby assessing the strain in her hands as they beat slowly against her thighs. Personally, he thought Peter hovered on the very edge of madness. The fact that his lady love had turned out to be a calculating prostitute attached to a psychotic murderer had already pushed him to the precipice of sanity. And Cobby thought the guy might be strung a bit too tight to begin with. The implant Abby had used to keep him calm and do her bidding might just be enough to push him off the ledge to insanity.

"I'm not really sure about him." Abby's voice faltered. "I need him to hold up. I trust him. If something goes wrong before we get back home, I can rely on him. If I remove the implant now, I know he'll freak. I think Ginger Mae might be the first girl he's ever had sex with. Once we're safe and I remove the implant, he'll still have to deal with her betrayal." Turning to Cobby, she placed a hand on his chest, her face tilted admiringly to the captain. "You're the one I thank God for."

Cobby's large callused hand enveloped her own. "Abby, I—oh, hi." He calmly dropped his hand from Abby's as Jose's head, then his body appeared on the stairs from the deck below. His thick tawny tail flicked in a sultry fashion as if to deliberately draw attention, apparently indifferent to the sensibilities of those in the salon still reeling from the shock over the big disclosure Abby had made regarding Echo and the changes to their bodies.

"Captain, do you mind? I'd like some privacy please."

Cobby felt the soft pressure of Abby's restraining hand on his arm. Backing up slowly, he returned to the helm, making himself comfortable in the captain's chair. If there was going to be fireworks, he didn't want to be in the line of fire. He enjoyed Jose's company, but was well aware of the sidelong glances he had been sending toward Abby and him since he returned from his trip. Given half a chance, he thought Abby might consider him as a lover, but for now they needed to be fully engaged in their tasks at hand. Another emotionally fragile jilted young man in their entourage could spell catastrophe. He didn't yet know the complete story of Scotty and his traumatized girlfriend, Chloe. Maybe Kane could clue him in. The kids all seemed to be thick as thieves. _Guess that beats their readiness to rip out each other's throats a month ago_.

"Abby, do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on? I think I've been patient enough, and now you have me scared shitless. And who are those people downstairs? And why is that poor disfigured women with the screaming child with Peter? When did he find time to get a girlfriend?" Cobby could sense Jose working up to an explosion, but he refused to be drawn in. It was Abby's baby now.

He watched as Abby made shushing sounds at Jose, wrapping her arms around him and murmuring in his ear.

"Babe, you have to trust me. There's just no time. I'm doing this because Netty and Echo have asked me too."

"Netty? Who's Netty? Does this involve Echo's mission?"

"Yeah, it does have something to do with his mission. And with saving our lives. We must bring these animals, and the ones from the zoo, to Echo's hive. They claim we'll be safe there. But they insist these animals be saved. You'll meet Netty soon enough."

"What zoo? What zoo are you talking about?"

"There's a large zoo not far from Newark Airport. I have trucks meeting us there. I'll send everyone on to Sussex County, except Scotty and Echo. They need to help me. If you could direct everyone else to the place you met Echo, you can wait for me there."

"But what about all of these animals? How the hell am I going to make them go with me into the woods?" Jose's tone of voice gave away the skepticism he felt toward Abby's plan. "Wait just a gosh darn minute. Are you talking about the Bronx Zoo? Is _that_ the zoo?"

"Yes, that's the zoo."

"Are you out of your ever-loving mind? Do you know how many animals are there?"

"Please, Jose. Everything is all set to go. Just take everyone to the Hive," Abby beseeched him, glancing at her watch. "I need you to let everyone know we're headed into the bay and will be docking within an hour. That about right, Cobby?"

"Yes. We need to be ready to roll. The cops will be called as soon as the harbor master is informed by a snoop about our cargo. I think we have a window of about forty five minutes before we get hassled. If the trucks have their doors open and the ramps in place, we can get the cats and the bears loaded before trouble starts. The rest should be a cinch."

" _Okay_." Abby's bright voice suggested the subject was closed. She leaned out over the bridge and hollered down to Peter, waving him to join them. Turning back to Jose, she begged him again. "Can you please just do this for me? We have our whole lives to sort this out. First, we just need to survive." Her voice softened. Wordlessly, Jose turned to the stairs, ignoring Peter as he stepped aside to let him pass.

"Abby, you wanted to see me?" Cobby eyed the man confronting Abby. His round moon face dripped with sweat. His clothes appeared to have been slept in for the last week, yet Cobby knew Peter to be a fastidious dresser. His eyes stared at Abby, unblinking, his face slack-jawed. Cobby's head snapped back as he got a whiff of the odor rolling off Peter: acrid, sweet, organic and foul. It couldn't all be the result of his exposure to the animals. Was it the smell of fear? He glanced at Abby for her reaction, but she apparently didn't notice. Her hand rested on Peter's arm.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

" _No, Abby, I'm not alright_. My girlfriend is a professional whore. I abetted the murder of a psycho who held a gun on me for two days. I just finished watering some cats that weigh three times what I do, and they know it. A camel spit in my face, then shat on my feet. My boss, who I cared for, just turned out to be some kind of alien freak, and we seem to be running for our lives with a boatful of hungry, dangerous, smelly creatures. And it's hot." He spoke calmly and precisely, his face expressionless, belying the drama of his words.

"You think I'm an alien freak?"

"I don't know what you are." He stared at Abby, his eyes unblinking and unwavering, his face subjugated and beaten. As Abby gently took him into her arms, Cobby watched carefully. He knew a close eye on this character would be a necessity. He appeared ready to go postal, and as captain, he needed to get this vessel to shore. Maybe Abby would let him dump Peter in the rush to load the animals. He planned to vote long and hard on leaving this guy behind.

"Abby, I'm ready to cross the bay. Why don't you take Peter below and make sure everyone is packed up and ready to disembark? Push those monkeys and the birds up on deck."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Come on, Peter, why don't we go down together? I still need your help with Ginger Mae and Daisy."

As she guided Peter back to the stairs, she turned to meet Cobby's steely gaze and his imperceptible nod in Peter's direction. She slipped him a quick thumb's up, then disappeared down the stairs.

# Chapter 2

Scotty sat with Chloe in the once elegant salon of the family yacht, the air conditioning failing to suppress the cacophony of animal odors mixing with the smells of human sweat.

They sat watching Kenya try to convince Kane and Ginger Mae to bolt from the yacht as soon as it hit the dock in Tampa. She paced madly, one hand on her big belly and the other gesticulating wildly as she tried to sell the idea to an indifferent Kane and a numb Ginger Mae, her swollen face and grotesquely stitched lip refusing to allow her a moment's peace.

Chloe sat unmoving and silent, unless Scotty happened to shift his weight. She then clutched at him convulsively, refusing to relinquish her anchor to sanity.

As Kenya continued to rant, she failed to notice Abby and Peter as they descended into the salon from above. Peter selected an upholstered chair nearest the stairs, collapsing like a deflated blow-up doll, smelly and wrinkled with a wicked sunburn. Abby quietly stood behind Kenya as she railed at Kane, reaching hysterical proportions, refusing to concede a losing battle.

Abby's hand suddenly shot out, grabbing Kenya by the arm, swinging her around and slapping her across the face.

"I want you to go sit down and, for Pete's sake, shut up. This is not good for the baby."

"How dare you? You're not my mother!" Kenya held her hand up to her reddened cheek as she nonetheless took a seat. "You can bet I'm gonna report you when we get back to town, chicky, you wait and see."

Abby stood in front of Kenya and whipped off her sunglasses, exposing her flashing golden eyes, anger and impatience surging at high tide.

"Don't you get it, young lady? We're not going back to town. How much clearer can I be? You can stay here and die with everyone else or you can come with us and live. Your baby will live. But you must stop. No one wants to hear it. And I don't need any more problems. I have enough to worry about as it is. Got it? Now what will it be?"

Kenya appeared genuinely frightened, but everyone knew Abby meant business. Scotty watched as Kenya scanned the room for support, finding no one to meet her eyes. With a sob, she nodded her head at Abby and leaned back against her seat, finally acquiescing.

"Peter, I need you and Scotty to keep everyone together. Peter, are you listening to me?" Peter sat with his chin on his chest, his eyes shut. They flew open as Abby made her way toward him.

"I hear you. Consider it done. Animals first, then we make a dash for the limos."

"Yes, okay. Scotty, you two good?"

"Yeah, Sis, we're okay. We'll be ready."

"Good boy. Be prepared to make a wild dash. Just make sure all the animals make it off the boat first." She turned back to Kenya and leaned down to gently brush her wild tresses back from her face. "It'll be okay, hon, this is the worst part. Once we head for the airport we're gold." Glancing at Jose who stood with the monkeys in the galley, she gave a brave smile. "I'll be up top if you need me."

Scotty watched his sister mount the stairs and disappear. He could feel the boat pick up speed. It wouldn't be long before they had to run for it. He wanted to make an effort to stay out of the way of the tigers. He didn't want any repeat of the previous confrontation with Caesar.

"Hey, Scotty." Kane rose to squat in front of Scotty and Chloe. "You ready for this?"

"Yeah, just do what you can for Kenya, I'll take Chloe. Jose and Peter will handle Ginger Mae and Daisy."

Scotty felt a tug on his shirt from under the sofa. He glanced down to see the posse creep out from underneath, urged on by Echo, her long slender leather-like fingers patting Mimi as she happily joined the rest of the dogs, which sat like sentinels clustered around Echo, Barney at the helm. An aura assailed Scotty, spastic with agitation.

"It is time, Brother Scotty. I will stay with My Barney."

"No, Echo, I think you need to let me carry you. I can't run the risk that you'll get knocked around if you're underfoot or with Barney."

"No, Brother, I need to be with My Barney no matter what. I need."

" _You need_? Don't be silly, Echo." Scotty reached down to lift the furry creature to his lap. Chloe reached over to softly stroke her head.

"You need to stick close to me, girl, Abby might need us."

"No, no, no. I cannot. I must be with My Barney." Echo wiggled out of Scotty's grasp, then slid down his lap to quickly wobble over to Barney. The two stood cuddled up to one another, and Scotty cocked his eyebrow at Echo.

"Something you want to tell me, Echo?"

"No, my Brother. I should not bother you. We will stick close, do not worry."

Dismissing Echo's odd behavior, Scotty readied himself for the next leg of their escape.

The _Lucky Lady_ picked up speed as she made her way across the sun-glared water of Tampa Bay, throwing out huge waves of wake from both sides of the craft. Captain Cobby's eyes searched for the buoys marked on his map which would steer him into the private dock of a long abandoned industrial park where an old buddy from his young yacht jock days worked as a security guard. A green flag would mark the dock slated for their use. He should be able to spot Abby's caravan of trucks, lined up and ready to accept their unusual cargo.

"Hey, Dad, I see we're almost there. I'm going down to put the gangplank in place. Scotty will pass it out to me after we dock. I'm not looking forward to this part. I keep waiting for one of the cats to jump one of us." Kane nervously paced around his father.

"Don't worry, Kane, as long as we stay calm we'll be safe. I believe in Abby and this is our only chance to save ourselves. I'm not going to blow this chance for you, Son." Cobby wrapped his arms around his handsome boy, grateful for the intimate moment. With a swat on the butt, he sent Kane down to the deck to get in position.

They were a few minutes from docking, Cobby having spotted the green flag. He could see the trucks lined up on the other side of a chain-link fence about two hundred feet from the dock. _Damn_ —he had counted on them parking closer. The idea of crossing two hundred feet of wide-open space with a bunch of apex predators in unfamiliar territory made his stomach churn. Steadying his hand on the wheel, he throttled back to ease the big boat slowly into the dock with a soft grumble from the twin diesel engines. Kane dropped down to the dock to secure the ropes, tying them tautly.

From below, Scotty appeared, shoving the heavy gangplank out for Kane to position for the animals.

Cobby could hear the restlessness in his four-legged charges as they became aware of the docking and reacted to instructions from their implants.

"Yo . . . you there. I'm looking for Abby. Oh boy, here we go again." One of the truckers approached at the same time that the bears decided they would be the first to depart. Six hundred pounds of muscular fur and clacking claws would make anyone shit their pants when they were close enough to feel the hot breath of a chuffing ursine on their colorless lips. Rooted to the spot, the trucker let the bear pass before he hightailed it back to the safety of his truck. The truckers knew what to do. Sit tight, say nothing, do nothing. Abby would tell them when to close the backs of the trucks. They knew the drill. Then they would follow the limos to the airport, about a twenty-minute ride in normal traffic.

Cobby wiped his sweaty brow with a well-used rag, observing his wilted and odorous human passengers huddled on the starboard side of the boat, dogs and luggage milling at their reluctant feet, the relentless heat adding to their discomfort. Christ, it sure was hotter than a naked babe on the back of a motorcycle.

Cobby stood up, waving to the small crowd down on the deck below.

"Kane, check the boat, top to bottom. Make sure all the animals are off. Where are Abby and Scotty?"

"They're bringing up the turtles."

Cobby watched as Abby emerged with her brother, a huge tortoise held between them.

"We've got it, Cobby. Two more to go." Abby tilted her chin in his direction. "You might as well abandon ship. Go with Jose and the rest to the limos. Get the women settled. Peter and the boys will help me with the other turtles. Meet you at the limo."

One look at Peter, and Cobby could understand why Abby wanted him with her. He stood uselessly apart from the knot of women, a walking zombie. Maybe he would respond more effectively if he hadn't been forced to help Ginger Mae and little Daisy. Sliding off the captain's chair, he shut down the engines, slapped his hand on his chair and said a final goodbye to the beautiful craft he had controlled for over ten years. She didn't deserve the piles of animal crap and pools of urine left to decorate her proud decks, but they planned to leave her at the dock to whatever her fate may be, knowing she may have helped save their lives.

Quickly descending the stairs to the deck, he swept Chloe and Teddy, Ginger Mae, Daisy, Kenya, and Echo and her dog pack down the gangplank to the waiting limos with most of the luggage. So far, the animals and people had found the dash to the chain-link fence uneventful. Casting his gaze around, Cobby glimpsed Scotty and Kane delivering the last tortoise to a truck.

"Okay, Dad. That's it. Let's get out of here." Kane ran past his father, slapping him on the back as he slipped into one of the limos with Kenya, Scotty, Chloe, and Echo and the dogs. The other limo would carry the rest of them. Not a happy bunch. Cobby shrugged, feeling the weight of responsibility as the oldest of the group, stretching his strong arms as he made his way out of the hot sun into the air-conditioned limo.

Abby ran to catch up as the trucks revved their motors and eased the convoy away from the last forlorn glimpse of Tampa Bay that any of them would ever see.

*

Abby sat between Jose and Captain Cobby, her hand resting on Jose's lean leg. Occasionally her hand would spasm, her exhaustion and adrenaline warring with themselves to control her body, the implant placed by Netty guiding her mind. She tried to relax her body as her curiosity focused on the mystery that was Netty. She felt a clean uncomplicated honesty emanate from the regal woman. An overwhelming sense of gentle confidence which contrasted with the strangeness and urgency of the tasks she had entrusted Abby with. Everything was such an enigma. But Abby knew one thing for sure. One frightening, cataclysmic, irrefutable fact: hundreds of millions now lived their last days, and she fully intended to survive. If she could save a few others in the process—great.

She actually understood that humans as a species didn't deserve this planet, but her heart bled with the thought of the uncorrupted babies and children who would perish. Tears escaped from under her sunglasses as she thought of the creatures that really deserved to live; the exquisite and the mighty, the docile and the fierce. All part of God's garden, all tragic victims. Abby hadn't been raised as a particularly pious devotee of religion, but she, along with most, believed in God. But where were the answers to God's eternal indifference to the pain and brutality inflicted by Homo sapiens on all life since the dawn of early man? Where were _those_ answers? Abby's fist contracted painfully on Jose's leg. He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Babe, you good?"

She picked up his hand, raising it to her lips to reassure him. "I'm fine, just nerves. Maybe we should call Mama Diaz and give her an ETA? Jose, I don't know what you've told her, but could you ask her to pack all the tools we left at the house? And make sure they're ready to move everything to the woods. I'll have extra hands to move the heavy boxes when we get there. I'm going to ask some of the truckers from the second caravan if they want to join us. That's why we tried to hire nonviolent drivers with no family connections. I want them to be able to make a fast decision. And it's why I asked them to bring their pets with them. I thought it would help. I would never get over leaving Barney and the gang behind if the situation were reversed. It should be a big help."

"Oh, yeah, that's a big help." Peter's bitterness intruded from across the seat. As Abby opened her mouth to respond, she thought better of it. Sighing audibly, she closed her mouth, determined to say no more.

The caravan entered the approach to the commercial cargo ramp for air freight. This next phase would include Echo. One by one the vehicles and trucks passed through the gigantic metal security device which read the presence of all explosive and metal objects. Their progress continued as slowly as a snail on vacation, Abby's impatience ready to ignite.

Finally most of the trucks made it through, pulling up to join the limos on the tarmac. _Now, here comes the dicey part_. Abby climbed out of the limo quickly, pulling open the door to the other car.

"Come on guys, hurry, hurry . . . Find a seat onboard. Sorry, but you have to cram in there. It's going to be a little cramped. It's not a luxury airliner, but it'll get us where we need to go. The important thing is the animals." Abby looked over her shoulder as the inspectors approached, looking for her permits.

"Echo, come on girl, you're on!" Echo scrambled out of the limo, Barney sticking to her like glue.

"Scotty, take Barney with the rest of the dogs. Get them secured on the transport."

A violently fluctuating aura assailed her mind, forcing her hand to her head in shock. The whispers screamed. " _No_ , Sister. Barney _must_ stay with me. I need."

"Okay, okay, whatever. Bring Barney if you must." Turning to Barney, Abby gave a quizzical look at his loyal mug, eyes bright, shining with love and unquestionable trust. Her heart melted at the thought that someone had once thrown this joyful personality away as a pup like a piece of disposable garbage. Shaking her head, she realized what an arbitrary lady Fate could be. Look at Barney's life now: loved so well, and loved far, far beyond anyone's wildest dream by the most enigmatic creature on the planet, part of his adoring family. Abby knelt down to place a kiss on Barney's tender muzzle, happy to have him remind her of the smallest of the fragile lives which would be saved by her efforts.

The airport officials approached. Abby turned to Scotty, whispering directions under cover of the airport noises. Pointing out their transport, she directed him, "Get the trucks to start unloading. I won't be long." Turning to the airport officials, she nudged Echo forward.

"Gentleman, I believe you are looking for me."

"If you are in charge of the contents of this transport, miss, may I have your permits please?" Echo stood with her arm wrapped around Barney's neck as her antlers split, releasing just the correct amount of implant creatures, which flew to the ears of the officials who could destroy all hope of leaving the airport with her precious charges. Naturally, Abby had been unable to obtain all the complex permits and vaccination records needed to transport wildlife of this kind. CITES, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, required reams of paperwork and certifications to protect the transportation of wildlife. Abby was shooting from the hip here. Echo's facilitation made everything so much easier.

The implants did their work as Abby waited for the signs that the inspectors were under control. Shaking their heads and pulling on their ears then grinning like simpletons, they assured her she could proceed safely.

"I want you both to return to your desks. Everything is in order here, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. You have a nice flight now. Nice doggies you have there." With a quick pat on Echo's head, they turned smartly on their heels and walked away. One down, now just the pilots to go. Cobby should be briefing them at the moment. She hoped to avoid grief from them regarding the lack of proper cages for the animals. She had selected Pet Air because the cargo bay came equipped with built-in cages that would help secure most of the smaller animals and some of the cats. The rest would be forced to settle down on the moving blankets and make their own nests. Turning, she heard Cobby shout her name, running toward her.

"You were right, I need Echo to handle the pilots. The loading is going smoothly, just very slowly. I'm going to take Echo with me, okay?"

"Yeah, take Barney with you too, please, Cobby. Don't let Echo implant them unless you're forced. And keep Echo hidden until you need her. I'll join you as soon as I can."

Cobby ruffled her long golden hair. "You holding up, kiddo?" His smile reflected nothing but worry and admiration for her.

She smiled back, her lips threatening to collapse on her. _Suck it up girl_ , she thought. _This is not the time to cry in Cobby's arms_.

"I'm fine, Cob. I'll see you later." She watched as Cobby marshaled the furry pair off to the animal transport for a sit-down with the pilots. Looking over the receding shoulder of Captain Cobby, she noticed another transport pulling in toward their parking area. It featured the insignia of the British Royal Air Force on the side of the transport. _Why the heck was the Royal Air Force here_? Mentally slapping herself across the face, she pulled her mind back to what she needed to focus on.

Fifteen minutes later, as Abby watched her animals offload from the trucks and settle into the belly of their transport with much complaining and shuffling of space mates, she found her ears assailed with the strange sounds of trumpeting and rumbles which gripped her deep into the very marrow of her bones. Following the frantic sounds, she found herself led to the very transport that had caught her eye a few minutes ago.

The belly of the transport lay open with activity milling, the focus of some black men dressed in blue-green coats signifying some kind of uniform. Creeping closer, she noticed agitation and helpless sorrow permeated their demeanors. The trumpets sounded more frantic the closer she got. As her presence alerted the attention of the men, she nodded politely, getting a nod from one of the taller men, his world-weary chocolate eyes dripping with disconsolate acceptance.

"Jambo, miss." Abby nodded respectfully, understanding a friendly greeting if not the Swahili language. Peering into the belly of the transport, she got the surprise of her life. In the rear of the plane stood an unhappy group of elephants. Yes, elephants, practically extinct after the horrendous slaughter of the 2015–2019 ivory wars and the subsequent decision to slaughter the largest and wisest for meat to feed the refugees in Sudan, Uganda, Libya and South Africa.

Abby noticed grave differences in the elephants. The largest and oldest, almost elderly; two smaller juveniles; one adult tusker and three tiny babies, one of which lay prostrate on the floor of the plane, a few feet from the men, who she now realized must be their keepers. The tiny baby looked to be only a few weeks old with the tip of its delicate tiny trunk missing. It appeared to have been bitten off and now lay lifeless, swollen and infected. The poor thing's breathing sounded labored, obviously on the doorstep of death.

"Oh no, the poor thing." Tears trickled unnoticed from under her shades. _Who are these people_? She addressed the tall man who appeared to be in charge.

"Hello, I'm Abby Preston." The man gave a quick bow.

"I'm Johno. It is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Abby." His grin reached from ear to ear, but his heart clearly neglected to join in.

"Where did you come from? And what's wrong with the little one?"

"She has pneumonia. She is dying." He hung his head. "There is little we can do now."

"What in the world are you doing here, in Tampa?"

"We are from Nairobi, Africa. The radical Islamic leaders ordered all non-native landowners to turn over their land to the government. They were given forty eight hours to vacate the country. We could not leave these precious few elephants behind. They would have been eaten, just like this poor little one's mother. The babe was found stuck in a shallow well. She must have run in her panic after her mother was slain, falling in. We were notified by a kind Masai. Her trunk was savaged, probably by a hyena. It is common. We set down here from the Miami airport because if she dies, the others will be upset and they need calmness. It is not a good time to be in an airplane for them."

"I don't understand why you have them, elephants are almost extinct. It's against the law to bring an elephant out of Africa."

"Yes, Miss Abby. I work for the Elizabeth Siggins Wildlife Foundation. I have worked for them for over forty years. Ms. Elizabeth's husband started the Kenya Wildlife Protection Corp. so many years ago. Ms. Elizabeth was a very famous woman, loved by many all over the world for her spirit and dedication. She created miracles for her beloved elephants. When the government threatened the land that belonged to the foundation, the family enlisted the help of Her Majesty's Royal Air Force to secrete the elephants away to safety in the United States. They have always been important supporters of Ms. Elizabeth's efforts. Everything happened so quickly. Unfortunately, we were only able to save these few before the soldiers came. We were lucky to get away. Many more were left behind." Johno's voice broke, his arm raked across his eyes, wiping away his tears. "My babies . . . so much trauma and terror in their short lives." He broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. "We could not save them all. I am sorry, I cannot speak further. Please excuse me." He turned back to the pitiful creature sprawled on the floor surrounded by the other keepers, tears in the eyes of the anguished men.

Abby slowly approached the circle of men. She reached out to rest her hand on Johno's shoulder. "Johno, I can help you. I can help the baby."

Johno's head snapped back to her with uncontrolled hope. "You can help our baby, Miss Abby? Please, please. How can you help? Do you have a miracle medicine?"

"No, Johno, I have something better. Please, stand back." She moved Johno to the side, waving away the attentions of the other keepers. Johno's face fell as he realized she would not be forthcoming with medicine.

Seemingly from out of thin air, Abby's tail flexed and snapped high into the air, extruding its healing membrane, sending pressure felt by all and the accompanying odor of sulfur. The keepers didn't understand the significance of her tail or where the path of pressure emanated from, and reacted by throwing themselves flat on the ground, screaming.

As the excited screams slowed to frightened mutters, the men finally absorbed the complete quiet settling around their shoulders, no more sound coming from the belly of the transport, the elephants' silence ominous. Then a squeak. And then a squeal, coming from none other than the dying baby, who struggled to stand under her own power as a cacophony of excited trumpets emanated from the back of the transport, happy elephants eager to caress the newly healthy baby.

The keepers rose slowly, frightened and unbelieving, their hands making the sign of the cross. Abby watched Johno, his face impassive and calm, a cypher. He turned to her, holding out his hand. "Miss Abby, the Lord has sent you to us."

Abby stepped up to grasp his hand in hers. "Where are you traveling with these elephants, my friend?"

"We have been offered sanctuary in the most wondrous place. It is called The Bronx Zoo."

Abby smiled wide. "Yes, I have heard of it. I think we will meet again, my friend. I am going in that direction myself. Will you be leaving soon?"

"Yes, miss, we will leave as soon as possible." Johno's eyes searched hers, his voice giving out and reverence overwhelming his impassive nature. As Abby turned to take her leave she glanced back.

"You may want to have a look at the big elderly girl in there. She is one happy ele." With a nod, she returned to her own transport.

*

Johno stood rooted to the spot. He thought he had seen everything in his sixty two years. He had never considered himself a superstitious man as so many Africans were wont to be. He prided himself as one of the lucky few with parents who were able to afford a uniform that enabled him to attend school as a youngster. Fate stepped into his young life when he met the first extraordinary woman of his life, Ms. Elizabeth Siggins. She had recognized his deep capacity to love her little orphan charges as the adults fell under the onslaught of ivory poachers, poison arrows, droughts, angry cattle herders and the fences which had appeared across their traditional migratory routes, displacing them. No one could have foreseen the political shift in Kenya from staunch ally of the United States to the radical Islamic stronghold which had turned to the wildlife to feed the hordes of refugees they displaced in other African countries, causing chaos and turmoil to all English landowners, instituting a land grab, evicting them from their land and confiscating all their personal property, including their creatures.

For rescue centers, rehabilitation stations and wildlife biologists with decades-old study groups, the outcome was catastrophic as they struggled to fight the confiscation of their creatures for the slaughterhouses. Many noble men and women lost their lives to the merciless onslaught, refusing to desert the creatures they had long loved. Those that stayed behind with Johno to salvage what they could had heard rumors of the tragedy at The Dian Fossey Research Center at Karisoke in neighboring Rwanda. A habituated family of thirty gorillas had disappeared with no trace, thought to have been vanquished by poachers who had probably slaughtered them for bush meat.

Six months later, the staunchly loyal personnel were murdered as they tried desperately to protect the remaining families of the fragile yet magnificent mountain gorillas who remained in their charge. The reports of copious quantities of blood and stiffening gorilla carcasses displayed high on the back of triumphant Islamic trucks quickly reached the ears of all in the conservation community in Nairobi. Heavy hearts at the Siggins Wildlife Foundation quickly formulated plans to evacuate.

Johno and the other keepers escaped with a very small amount of elephants, two young rhinos, and a pair of kudu through the efforts of the Royal Air Force and the daughters of the long-deceased Ms. Elizabeth. Johno's heart bled at the thought of how his benefactress gratefully resided in heaven with her beloved husband. He knew they were surrounded by all the baby eles who had never recovered from the trauma and shock of their brief introduction to this brutal world. He glanced to the heavens to thank the Lord she did not have to know of this bitter catastrophe.

Johno's thoughts returned to Miss Abby's parting remark about his elderly elephant. She had no way of knowing how he had insisted this special wise creature accompany them to salvation in the United States. He just could not have lived if forced to leave Tobi behind. She remained one of the pride and joys of the Wildlife Foundation, a success story beyond their wildest dreams and a personal favorite of Ms. Elizabeth and Johno. A wild elephant who had never forgotten her love of her keepers, and returned endlessly to check on new babies and preen as the keepers lavished adoration and affection on her.

Poor tiny Tobi had been found near death's doorstep in September of 2002 near a water hole in the Imenti Forest in Meru. Her mother was thought to have been a victim of poaching, their small herd having been cut off from their traditional migration route to the Mount Kenya forests by the fencing that followed the expansion of human settlements.

They had estimated Tobi's age to be only days old. The only measure that had kept the poor newborn alive was the discovery by Ms. Elizabeth that when a newborn did not have the opportunity to draw on its mother first milk, they missed out on the critical colostrum needed to trigger the infant's natural immune system. When a colostrum-deficient infant was discovered, they had to ascertain whether a severe enteritis was present, producing bleeding from the rectum and the onslaught of deadly pneumonia. Ms. Elizabeth had discovered that a transfusion of blood extracted from another newborn could be distilled to plasma and injected through a vein in the ear of the stricken orphan, saving its life. Such had been the case with Tobi. After the successful transfusion, they had given her hope for a new chance at life. In the Meru dialect, Tobi means life.

Johno's decision to bring her in from her life in the wild had given her hope again. She would now escape the ruthless slaughterhouses along with the three young orphans; the two four-year-old juveniles; the young bull, Medoc; and their two young rhino, the youngest completely blind.

Johno heard a trumpet from inside the plane. A trumpet of glee and happiness—but loud, very loud. The big ones must be overjoyed about the recovery of the little nameless one. Hefting himself up onto the cargo deck of the transport he could not believe his eyes. Tobi looked ten years younger. The nasty rip in her right ear was gone, the long gnarly scar near the tip of her delicate trunk, nonexistent. She shifted happily from side to side, lifting her feet as if her swollen arthritic joints no longer pained her. The bull and two juveniles excitedly ran their trunks all over her legs.

_My Lord_ , thought Johno, stunned to the core. _I think I have just met the second most important person in my life._

# Chapter 3

Abby ran from truck to truck ensuring all were empty. To her consternation, she inadvertently attracted the attentions of one of the truckers.

"Come on, babe, slow down. I just want to say a proper how do."

Abby ignored him and continued to check the trucks. She wanted to shove off and get the transport in the air. In the back of her mind she began to worry about the manpower it might take to properly care for all of the animals she planned to save. She wanted to ask members of the Bronx Zoo trucking convoy to voluntarily join them, yet she couldn't be certain that would give her enough manpower.

"Babe, come on. I just want a little time to chat ya up seeins I might be back in these parts again, ya never know. Sure would be nice and neighborly if ya let me look ya up." The unfortunate lothario was none other than the skinny, weasel-faced, cigarette-smoking trucker who had pissed his pants back at the Big Cat Sanctuary when he had unexpectedly confronted a bear and a lion as they calmly padded to his truck. It seemed he had finally recovered his dignity and located his missing balls. She stopped in her tracks to face him.

"Look, _babe_. I don't have time for this. I appreciate the job you did for me, but it's time to move on now." _Or is it_? Abby's head shot straight up with an idea. Turning to the shit-kicker, she plastered on her best smile.

"Whoa—Dezi likes." His face lit up like a kitten that had just discovered the keys to a sardine truck.

"Dezi. May I call you Dez?" Abby flinched to herself at the sound of her cheesy come-on, even though Dezi's had been far worse.

"Babe, you can call me anything you want as long as you call me." He snickered and preened, tugging semi-discreetly at his crotch, the area experiencing an unmistakable swelling. Rolling her eyes, she sensed that the pathetic guy spouted his annoying repartee to make up for his unfortunate mug and unimposing stature, yet she also sensed something broken and hurt in this impudent guy. Freezing the smile on her face, she tried again.

"Dez, if you're available, I would like you to accompany us to Newark to help with the offload of the animals. I'll pay you well. The job will take about twelve hours, including flying time. I need additional help at a zoo and could really use you. I'll fly you back to Tampa first class and cover the cost of leaving your truck here." She bit the bullet and placed her hand seductively on his arm. He jumped a foot in the air with surprise at the unexpected touch.

"I'd be doin' you a solid?" He looked as anxious as a puppy trying hard to hold its urine.

"Yeah, Dez. You'd be doing me a solid."

"So you and me might find some time in the future to do the dirty?"

Abby recoiled. "For Pete's sake, Dez, let's take things a bit slower. We'll talk about that when the job's done. Do we have a deal?"

Dezi narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Abby identified his transparent emotions as they flickered across his homely face, clearly wondering how far he could go with her, hoping she wasn't putting him on. He broke out in a smile.

"Yeah, babe, let's go for it." He held out his hand for a shake. Abby clasped his hand only to be pulled off balance toward him and rewarded with a sloppy attempt at a kiss.

"Damn, Dez, I said, slow. S-l-o-w. Got it?" His shit-eating grin made her wonder about the wisdom of her offer.

"Yeah, babe, I got it." He pursed his lips and made kissing sounds.

_Oh, please deliver me_ , she thought. "Why don't you head to the transport after you park your truck someplace safe? Introduce yourself around and find a seat like a good boy, okay?"

"Okay. See you later, babe." He turned toward his truck with a slap and a caress on his own butt, turning once to wink before disappearing from sight.

_Puke_. Abby shook her head, her long golden hair swaying as she wondered how in the world she would explain this to Jose.

Coming upon the last truck, she recognized the driver.

"Hello, Mr. Calloway. You must be in a hurry to get on with your next gig." Clyde straightened up respectfully from his lounging position alongside his truck, his portly belly still hanging well below his belt.

"Miss Preston, happy to see you. This sure has been a first for me and my rig. You have a mighty magic touch with the beasts." His clear hazel eyes bore into hers. Abby recognized a man not easily fooled but practical enough not to ask questions. "I'm in no hurry. I'm not running to the next job. My wife and the grandkids are in Tampa for a couple of weeks. I'm going to join them, kick back a beer and let the kids have their way with me." Clyde's lined but still relatively attractive face shined with pure bliss. And of course, that gave Abby an idea.

"Mr. Calloway—"

"Call me Clyde."

"Clyde. And I'm Abby. As I was saying, would you be interested in lending me a hand for another twelve hours? It means going to Newark with us on the transport and help with the logistics of another load of animals at a local zoo. The pay is rich."

"How rich?"

"Rich enough to make it impossible to turn me down."

"Well, now you're talkin'. But just twelve hours. I need to get back to my grandkids."

"No problem, Clyde. Why don't you pull your truck over there and find a seat on the transport? If you could sit with Dezi and keep an eye on him, I would be most grateful."

"Dezi?" His eyebrow rose.

Abby laughed knowingly. "Yeah, I know. But the guy's harmless, he just needs a firm hand."

She waved as Clyde nodded and climbed into his truck with a smile. "Twelve hours, not one minute more."

*

Jose eyed the passenger seats on the transport. The door separating them from the cargo hold didn't appear strong enough to resist the efforts of Barney, let alone the Bengal tiger Scotty and Echo called Caesar. Abby may have them under control with Echo's implants but she was a novice at this. _Christ, anything can go wrong_. He thumped down in a seat near the middle, wondering when Abby would join them. His list of questions now reached from Tampa back to Sarasota. He steamed quietly as he caught a glimpse of Captain Cobby picking a seat near Kane.

Sizing up the transport, he wondered how much this jaunt would cost, not that money was an issue. The cabin appeared capable of holding them all. The seats sported an undistinguished brown vinyl, hard but serviceable. The backs of the seats were designed to allow a line of sight around the whole cabin. _All the better to spot the carnivore planning to eat you_.

Jose heard the cabin door bang. Turning around, he spotted a ferret-faced skinny dude coming down the aisle, followed by a big man with an enormous beer belly dragging him down.

"Hey, call me Dez. This here is Clyde." Dez gave a two-finger salute from his brow and kept moving, nodding and saying hello.

Clyde stopped at Jose's seat, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you. And you are?"

"Jose. Nice to meet you, Clyde."

"Oh, you must be Miss Preston's brother. You look so much alike." Jose flushed.

"No, her brother is further up. I'm her boyfriend."

Now Clyde flushed. "Sorry. It must be the shades." Nodding amiably, Clyde moved on to introduce himself to the others. Jose overheard him explain to Captain Cobby that they had joined the expedition as extra hands to help wrangle animals at a zoo _. For heaven's sakes, is she still going through with this_?

Jose sat back in his seat and glanced out the window. From out of nowhere, two sets of tiny wizened hands shot out to grab Jose's pants, hauling themselves up to make themselves comfortable on the seat next to him. Two white-faced monkeys had somehow slipped through the door and managed to locate Jose where they decided to seek refuge. Wouldn't he love to watch Senior Brooks' face if he could see this? Yeah, he would watch him in Hell where he belonged. Thanks to Echo, he'd been dispatched by the mysterious creatures which resided in her antlers, melting him down to less than the crud on the bottom of Jose's shoes.

He absently stroked the monkeys that had once played a short, happy act in his childhood. Taking stock, Jose realized his shock over the discovery of who had murdered his parents and the unveiling of Chloe as his kidnapped sister, was finally starting to dissipate. _But where did all this anger come from_? He realized he sounded like a petulant angry child. Jealousy? _Boy, no wonder Abby's distancing herself from me_. Her plate runneth over and his anger, while understandable, was of no help to her. He made a note to himself not to overreact to anything while he was still digesting the brutal events and discoveries at Chloe's—no, not Chloe's—the despicable slime ball, Omar Nasir's, mansion. Chloe had _never_ been his daughter.

Making an effort, Jose turned to the elderly monkeys to find solace in their warmth and the distant memories of the joy he had shared with them so long ago in Costa Rica.

You can read more by going to Smashwords or Barnes & Noble and clicking on Hive, Species Intervention #6609 Book 4.
To You, My Dear Reader,

I want you all to know how heartfelt my appreciation is that you have taken the time to read my books. Being an author is one of the most torturous professions out there. Many of us live on the thanks of our readers alone. If anyone cares to leave me an honest review on Amazon.com, Goodreads.com, Smashwords.com, Kobo.com or Barnes and Noble, I would be ever so grateful. You can leave a review on Barnes and Noble and Goodreads without having made the purchase there. Some of you are unaware that Amazon, in particular, promotes books based on the amount of reviews a book gets. No reviews . . . the book will stay a secret.

Don't be afraid to make suggestions or criticize the writing. How else is one to improve? Stay tuned for the next book in the Species Intervention Series, Armageddon Cometh.

J. K. Accinni

# Author's Page

J. K. Accinni was born and raised in Sussex County before moving to Randolph, New Jersey, where she lived with her husband, five dogs and eight rabbits, all rescued, and currently resides in Sarasota, Florida. Mrs. Accinni's passion for wildlife conservation has led her all over the world, including three trips to Africa, where ten years ago she and her husband fell in love with a baby elephant named Wendi, who had been rescued by a wildlife group. That baby is the inspiration for the character Tobi, the elephant featured in her fourth book, _Hive_.

The character of Caesar is inspired by a real life iconic tiger from the Big Cat Habitat and Gulf Coast Sanctuary in Sarasota. A portion of the proceeds from her third book, _Armageddon Cometh_ , will be donated to the sanctuary in support of the enormous expense required to house and feed the displaced wildlife in their care. Mrs. Accinni invites her readers to visit bigcathabitat.org to view the astounding facility and plan a visit with your family.

Mrs. Accinni also invites you to visit her webpage at www.SpeciesIntervention.com, where information on the Big Cat Habitat and Gulf Coast Sanctuary can also be viewed. Readers are encouraged to comment about the book or your own creature experiences.
