Humor

“Abby. Abby, close the mirror.” The voice seemed so far away and she was trapped in the cupboard.

A sharp jolt to her hand and the viewer snapped shut. Abby blinked in astonishment at what she had seen, felt and heard. “Holy crap.” He leaned over her and took the viewer from her hand. Contact was minimal, but she still managed to keep her power to herself.

“I am surprised that it took you that powerfully.”

He still kept his hands free of her as she wobbled to her feet and that act of separation made her grit her teeth. “I had to jump start the mechanism, it may be a little stronger now until you work the charge off it.” She settled back in on the sofa and took another slug of the lemonade. “Who knew that a seal could be that angry?”

He was putting the viewer back and turned to her in shock. “A seal?”

“Yeah. It was a seal’s soul trapped in that painting. A small magus sealed it in there after he found the seal almost dead on the beach. He then had a clown painted on the treated sealskin. He wanted people to be as scared of clowns as he was.” She relaxed back and let the images she had seen wash over her. It was a small child’s frustration and humiliation that drove him to create that painting. That he had control of enough magic to do it was just another tool for his plan.

“Seriously? A child did that?”

“Yeah, in the late sixties or so.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“No. But with the upped charge, you should be able to investigate. And the reason he attacked Laura was that she smelled a bit like a piece of herring. What seal could resist?” She kept her eyes closed as she heard him pick up the viewer and move to the painting again.

A few short moments later he closed the tool with a snap. “Sonofabitch. It was so simple and yet I couldn’t see it.”

“I am betting that it happens a lot with older mechanisms that rely on magic. But back to the reason I am on your couch. I need to know about what I am.” She didn’t have any room to put her feet up on his coffee table so she kicked off her shoes and curled her feet up on the couch.

“You are a Nexus.”

“Yeah, but why did the council put all of you here?” This question had been bugging her. “And who the heck is on the council anyway?”

“The council is a group of elected officials from the differing magical races that have survived to modern day.” He answered the second question first and crossed his own legs in the lotus position on the other couch.

Oh, he is limber. This has possibilities.

“The last few times a Nexus has been found, it has been drained dry by whoever found it and has died shortly after. We didn’t want that to happen to you.”

“We? Who is we?”

“Your new neighbours here on Oak Point Way. Each of us volunteered to be here as a type of an honour guard. If you can learn to control your dispensation of magic, you will live a long and healthy life.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will sputter and burn out like a candle and there will be nothing we can do to help you. You carry the seeds of your own survival or destruction within you.”

Abby took a deep sip of her lemonade. “Wow, that is a heavy conversation killer. Okay. The next question is, why is the energy signature on my gnomes changing color?”

“Really? So quickly?”

“Uh, yeah. So. what is doing it?”

“As living things take on your energy, they convert it for their own use. The more they live, the faster they change. The tree for example will metabolize the energy that you gave it and your magic will be irretrievable from that point on.”

“Okay. So as long as it is still my energy, I can pull it back?”

“That is the theory. I don’t know of any cases where the Nexus was able to do it extensively though. That is why you need the training that I am offering you.”

She sighed heavily. “What exactly would this training entail?”

“Every morning when your energy is at its peak you will come over and I will give you exercises to enhance your control over your energies.“ Xander rose and moved to a side cabinet, the drawer that he opened yielded a seven-foot strand of pearls. “These pearls are a good outlet for your extra energy. You can fill them up one at a time and use them to relieve the overflow to prevent accidents like the one that struck Laura.”

Abby wrapped the pearls around her hand and hefted them. They were not light. “I am supposed to haul these things around with me?”

“Well, they will give you a place to put your extra energy. It’s your choice.” He crossed his arms and scowled.

How could she not find that sexy? Her power ramped up again and she filled three pearls in a few seconds.

Then three more as he stated, “I want to see you first thing in the morning, every morning until we get this under control.”

She would like to see him first thing in the morning, after they had spent the night tangling the sheets. Five more pearls. “Fine. I will be over here first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

“Excellent. I look forward to working this out with you. I will be here to help you out as long as it takes.” He took her hand in his and looked deeply into her eyes.

Ten more pearls. Oh, to hell with it. She jumped forward and locked her lips with his. It was just as fantastic as the first time, but this time she had him at a disadvantage and he took a moment to react. He reacted with passion and she was halfway through the necklace before she was able to break the contact. “Wow. Okay. We can’t do that again. Or we can’t do that again today. But I would definitely like to do that again. But not when we are working on extending my expiration date.”

His grin was devilish. “Done. The instant that you are firmly in control of the power, we have a date.”

She extended her hand and he shook it. “We have a deal. What is your official job title by the way?”

He was escorting her out and he gently pinched her backside as he gave her a light shove out the door. “I am the Safety Warlock. Do you feel safe?”

A large part of her still melted whenever she saw him, but with his council related absences, she had started to guard herself against his comings and goings. Miranda's trial had been weighing on his mind, his previous relationship with Randi colouring his new arrangement with Abby. It was a confusing situation, but as she drifted through her house and went to watch the goings on around her car, her heart warmed to see Xander directing the gnomes on how to change the oil and check the coolant.

The distinct tingle of magic that she felt whenever she saw the Safety Warlock ran though her. "So, how is the car, will she make the trip?"

"Why do you call it a she?"

"Because her name is Bluebell." Abby walked up to stroke the fender and the hatch of her battered station wagon. The magic jumped into the car.

Xander looked at her accusingly. "Was that necessary?"

"If we want her to take us down south, yes."

"Well, the gnomes wouldn't fit in my car unless we put them in the trunk and I don't think that is an option, is it?"

"Wow. You are a smart fella." He stood and wiped his hands on a rag as he approached her. He swept her into an embrace as he leaned her back against Bluebell.

Physically, his interest in her had no relation to her being the Nexus, but emotionally, he was distant. She shrugged and pressed herself against him from chest to knees. "Is that a wrench in your pocket or are you happy to see me?"

"Harby has the wrench."

The kiss he laid on her was enough to heat her blood, it was also enough to start spontaneous repairs of Bluebell's leprous hide. The car was going to be able to fly if he didn't stop doing that thing with his hands around her waist. Being with him gave her the feeling of being delicate and dainty. Dainty was something she had never before achieved.

"How is it that the gnomes know more about your car than I do?"

"They read the Haynes Manual. I found it under my bed a few days ago. Since Harby still had my keys, it wasn't too much of an issue for me. I wasn't worried about them taking it apart since I obviously couldn't drive it."

He leaned back and scowled. "The keys that I used to get into the car so we could open the hood?"

"Yup. Those keys. Harby ate them the day of the car bomb." Her grin was evil and she knew it. "I haven't seen them since."

He groaned. "Can I give them to you now?" He reached into his pocket and pulled the keys out. He jerked his hand back as Angel immediately darted from underneath the car to snatch them. Small scratches marred his skin as he brought his hand to his chest.

"Apparently the little buggers don't trust me not to blow up." He scuttled away with the keys clutched to his chest but the gargoyle didn't eat them, for which she was thankful.

"They are protective of you, almost to a ridiculous degree, but I do warn you that the summit is going to be a somewhat challenging environment for them. You may want to try and confine them to your room for some of the larger events."

"Well, as the current Nexus, where I go, my creatures go." His distraction was making her insular and weird. She wanted something familiar with her at all times. "I am practicing that phrase because I get the feeling that I am going to need it."

He laughed.

For just a moment she saw the man that she had fallen head over heels for. The man who had been subdued since she mentioned that her power was evolving. She didn't know what was going through his head, but before too long, she was going to get tired of this dance, even if a dance was what had drawn them together to begin with. A sharp peck on his lips and she squirmed free. "I have to check on Seesee and the little ones. Who knows what they are going to consider evening wear?"

He barked out a short laugh.

She smiled as she went back inside. It was safer to be out of his vicinity, her home was already opening the door before she touched it. The extra energy was bleeding off into her house and it liked it. Number thirteen Oak Point Way was getting a life of its own.

With the camaraderie having run its course, the ladies left Abby alone with her thoughts as she closed her door. Well, she tried to close it, but a frantic flapping of wings stalled her. Buffy struck her squarely in the chest, squeaking in distress.

"What is it honey?" Abby tried to calm the clinging gargoyle, but it was difficult with her wings still flapping and her claws digging into Abby's skin.

"Calm down, are you hurt?" Abby carefully used her inner eye to assess Buffy's condition. Her basic energy was stable, her body was not damaged and nothing was off.

"Holy heck." Nothing except for the small, bright spot of life blooming in the gargoyle's belly.

"Where are the boys?" Carrying the little creature, she held her tightly to her chest as she went to look for the other two gargoyles in the backyard. They were up in the trees, hanging baseball caps that they had stolen from unsuspecting men the previous autumn.

"Okay, Buffy. Who is the father?" She pried her creature off her and lured her onto the kitchen counter with a cookie. "Is it Angel?" No response in the aura.

"Not Firefly?" No reaction and the little gargoyle looked away.

What did that leave? "Is it a gnome?" The flare brightened into a hot, red pulse in Buffy's aura.

"Thank goodness. I was afraid it would have been an elf. That was a close one." She held her breath for her next round of questions. "Harby? No. Good. That would have been one ugly little bugger. Skint? No. Splint? No, good that would have been tricky. Oh, lord. That leaves Bitsy."

The flaring of her aura was telling the tale. It was Bitsy.

Abby sighed. It did make a certain amount of sense. Those two had always been drawn together. But a gnome-gargoyle baby? That was a little much to take in.

"Sweetie. When did it happen?" She held onto Buffy's little hand and smiled as the fingers gripped her.

Buffy waved her hand and squeaked again. This time it sounded more like a word. "Today."

"Wow. The little one seems to draw your magic a little."

"No fly."

"Oh. That was why you crashed into me. I think I can give you some supplements to help with that. But this will be your private stash. Don't let the boys into them or they will eat them all." Abby took a cookie and poured the power of the surprise she had felt when she realized she was about to be a grandmother to a flying gnome.

"One cookie a day until the baby gets bigger and then up to three. I will put them in a special spot and get the elves to guard it for you."

Buffy's cute little face with its wild mane of fluffy hair looked happy and hopeful as the cookie replaced some of the magic she had been missing.

"There. Better?" When her little one smiled and nodded, she said, "Good. Now you can tell Bitsy if you wish to, but if you want to keep the secret from your other companions, that is your choice. Come to me once a day for a check-up and I will try to compensate for any changes in the baby's growth cycle with extra boosts. At this point, it is all I can do. I think I may give the cookies to Laura. The gnomes won't dare break in to her yard…again."

That had been a funny afternoon. The gnomes wanted to know if they could swim and had jumped into Laura's pool, promptly sinking to the bottom and making mermaid retrieval imperative. Fortunately, what they did learn was that while they could not swim, they could not drown. It was a bright side.

However, after that escapade, Laura banned them from her yard unless Abby was there to babysit. It was a nice, safe place for power cookies.

She made the call and pressed one of her five cookie jars into service. She would leave it in the backyard in one of the small alcoves that was built into the reed hut that acted as a cabana.

Seesee had left her plenty of cookies, so she charged up a dozen and put them in the jar. Now, the only problem was sneaking over to Laura's without the gnomes seeing her.

A thought broke over her and she smiled at the simplicity. Laura was currently alone, so Abby had a few minutes until Verne came over for their date.

She knocked on the door, cookie jar in hand and simply gave it to Laura with instructions on where to put it. Buffy was sitting comfortably on Abby's shoulder and smiled brilliantly at the mermaid as she greeted her.

"Do you have the goods?" The dark and spooky voice Laura was using belied her bright grin.

In her own version of spy talk she whispered, "I've got the jar. Stash the goodies and all will be well."

A canny look came to the mermaid's eyes. "What will I get in return?"

Abby drew herself up straight. "I will order the gnomes to stop putting fish food in your tea and your juice and your salad." She had gotten enough amusement out of it anyway. Having minions had its good points.

"Deal." Laura extended her hands and took the cookie jar, not commenting on the teddy bear holding an Eat Me sign. "I look forward to doing business with you again, Nexus. Buffy, congratulations."

The little gargoyle extended her wings, stood up on Abby's shoulder and bowed. She squeaked her thanks and then settled back into her perching position.

The two bipedals shook hands and with a jaunty wave, Abby left her friend's yard just as Verne was making his way to his lady's sidewalk.

"Good evening, Verne."

"Evening, Nexus. Taking the gargoyle out for a walk?"

His question was just silly. "Of course I am. I can't ride her, now can I?"

Nothing broke one's sense of warm snugliness more than hearing, "Your snowmen were on the news. They froze someone in a solid cocoon of ice."

"It's a bad habit of yours to watch the news before you are awake, Xander. Give me a minute and I will prove you are insane."

Abby yanked the covers over her ears and tried to roll over. He stopped her by making the covers disappear. "Bastard."

"You have met my parents and they are married. Now get up. We need to get to the bottom of this and we have to examine that poor frozen man."

If Xander was going to insist she get up, he could at least dress her. She grumped into the shower and had a quick scrub. She was towelling her hair dry as she walked back to her room and still muttering to herself. Her clothes were laid out, so she jerked on the underwear, which let her know that the gnomes had done it.

The warlock had his panties in a twist.

Her gnomes had oatmeal on the table today. When Xander stayed over, they alternated good breakfasts with healthy ones, just to throw him off.

Abby scowled and munched her gray paste with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. They tried to make it tastier by adding chocolate chips and blueberries, but it was no plate of bacon.

"Come on, Abby. We have to look at the man who was frozen." Xander was on his feet and he had her jacket in hand.

"Fine, but my hair is going to freeze."

He waved his hand and it was bone dry.

"Nice trick. Let's move." She grabbed her jacket and stomped into her boots at the front door.

His car was waiting, warm and ready. They made quick time to the street in Sargent where the frozen man was making quite the stir.

The fire department was there, trying to cut him loose, but Abby could see with her inner eye that he was bound, not by ice but by magic. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. The snowmen were gently crusted, but this was a thick mass of magic that was as clear and hard as the ice that held him.

Tears clogged her voice. "We have to get him out."

"We can't. He is safe enough for now. Nothing can be done to save him, but nothing can be done to harm him." Xander turned the car back to Oak Point Way.

"If we destroy the snowmen, will that eradicate the ice?"

"It should. They are the binding magic after all."

"Why him? Why did they attack him?"

"He was defending his Christmas lights. There were, also, several other thefts of lights and generators. Whatever they are up to, it isn't good."

They were on the short span between their street and the main town when a snowman darted across the road in front of them. It disappeared into the woods, but it left Abby shaken.

"I thought they were slower in sunlight."

"They should be. It must be your magic that is speeding them up." He turned carefully on the slippery road and soon was in front of her house. "I am going to contact the specialists and see if they will come to help. If not, I will try to get what information I can from them. I will see you in three hours, alright?"

"Alright. I will give the gnomes a pep talk and try to keep them inside. Same for the gargoyles. I don't want them out there with those psycho snowmen in the yard."

"I doubt very much that they are still in your yard, but it is a good precaution." He leaned over and they kissed. "See you in a few hours and don't do anything reckless. I will be back as soon as I can."

"Back? From where?"

"The consultation with the experts. I have to transport myself to them. They won't talk over the mirrors."

"Okay. I won't do anything stupid and you will get back as quickly as you can? See you soon."

Abby hopped out of the car and held the door until her feet stabilized on the ice. Sliding her feet in a skating motion, she made her way to her door. As Xander entered his house, she had a feeling of foreboding. The gnomes were usually pretty good about keeping the walkways clear.

The house was silent. She took a deep breath and called for her creatures. "Everybody, front and centre."

Cupid's heavy breathing jarred his lungs. He'd been on the run for the last hour. Every time his pursuers caught up, a feint here, a dodge there, enabled his escape.

The smell of the wharf assailed his senses as the evening's drizzling rain muted the normal odors of the natural and unnatural. A foghorn from a distant ship on the bay beckoned to the land bound. Shadows leapt forward, vicious creatures seeking to impede his progress. He tamed them, utilized the surreal gloom to his advantage.

A painful throb to his side caused him to bend over where he placed his hands on soaked knees. He fingered the torn right leg of cloth, pulled it back to reveal a battered kneecap. Shit, this is--was my favorite suit. The cold night air inflamed the injury, caused the open wound to sting. A grimace twitched his lips as he recalled its cause. He slipped on a forgotten dead fish in an alley on his last run from the group.

Far off voices and the echo of heavy footsteps forced Cupid to recede into a cavity created by two shipping containers improperly stacked side by side. The narrowness of his cave forced his breathing to slow.

"How did he disappear so fast? We were right behind him," a nasal whine of a voice emanating from a man pierced the night.

"I don't know," a frustrated cultured British accent from another man responded.

A woman's voice, clear and high-pitched, offered a harsh answer.  "Could it be that you're both idiots?"

Cupid knew Mistress Fate had arrived. The Brit mumbled something but Cupid couldn't understand him.

"You're lucky you're good in the sack, Mr. Remington," she snapped in cruel reply. "Otherwise, your markers in Vegas would be due and owing right now."

The cheeky Mr. Remington was silent.  A few minutes after Fate's last comment, only the sound of soft rain against metal and another blast of a foghorn gave Cupid the impression he was alone.

To play it safe, he waited a few moments more before stepping out of his refuge. He peered around him.  His pursuers were gone. Cupid found his bearings and hobbled toward the point where the night's chase began, exhausted, hurt and hungry. "Care to share?" he inquired to a feral cat that eyeballed him with territorial certainty, protecting its rat buffet.

The animal hissed and grabbed its dinner, slinking backward toward the cover of garbage cans.

"How rude," Cupid stated. A shrill whistle broke the night and caused him to stop. It was the kind of attention grabbing sound construction workers used to heckle pretty girls as they walked by their work zones.

Cupid froze. He rolled his eyes and sighed. This night is never going to end. Turning to gaze at the source, despite the weariness pouring through him, his admired the perfect body of his black leather clad captor in appreciation.  She is something.

The thud of footsteps behind him initiated a glance over his shoulder. Two of Fate's Universal Solicitors were fast approaching. He recognized the handsome Mr. Remington's blond blue-eyed beauty and the creepy bugger of a man, Mr. Leach. Cupid shuddered as his gaze landed on the cowlick bald patch with its gray tufts of hair sprouting from the sides of Leach's egg shaped head.  The wiry mess somehow found a way to take root in his ears. Cupid's lip curled in disgust. By Zeus, Leach, will you do something about that?

Cupid turned once more to meet Fate's cobra stare with a grin and nodded politely to the woman approaching him. "Ursula, a pleasure as always." Her smile was dazzling. Eros imagined all the sharks of the Pacific Ocean bowed their heads in appreciation of its toothy cruelty.

"Eros Bubala, hasn't your mother ever told you it's dangerous to play outside after dark?"

"I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

Ursula strutted toward him. The sway of her hips was hypnotic. If they were not on opposite sides, he could show her a few things about hips--his and hers. She had no problem invading his personal space. Standing very close, her spiked hair poking his cheekbone, she sighed. As tall as he, only because of four-inch stacked black leather stiletto boots, she leaned toward his right ear and whispered seductively.

"Do you really think so?"

Cupid's eyes and mouth popped open in startled surprise as the pain of a dagger's blade stabbing through his diaphragm shocked his brain into paralysis. A numbing sensation followed. He looked down at a spreading stain that looked black in the dim glow of streetlights muted by the mist of moisture in the air. He laughed. "You won't succeed," he muttered as the threat of unconsciousness pulled him down to the wet ground. He fought to stay awake as two sets of masculine hands lifted him. One of the hands rifled through his rear pocket and pulled out his wallet. Damn lawyers, always stealing your money.

"Dump him." Fate ordered.

The freezing cold saltwater lay claim to him, the current making a human buoy of his powerless body before a rip tide tucked him under the pier and water filled his lungs. A final thought cavorted through his mind before he blacked out. My tailor's going to kill me.

Stellar tossed and turned in her bed, afraid to close her eyes. When she finally fell asleep, she was quickly interrupted by a familiar hologram floating above her bed. "Oh Lord, what are you doing here?"

"I'm the Christmas present dude."

"Okay first, you're not a dude, you're Lila's Mom. Second, why are you dressed like a chicken with a Santa hat on your head? Third, shouldn't you be in the kitchen cooking a chicken and not imitating one?"

"That's exactly what I said. However, this guy came to our house and said I have to go be a Christmas present chicken and I had no choice. So I put my dinner in the slow cooker, threw these feathers on over my apron and came right over."

"So, you're supposed to do, what may I ask?" Stellar asked hesitantly.

"Supposedly, I'm the guide here."

"Guiding me where?"

"To good stuff or something. From what I gathered, I'm supposed to show you what's happening right now and then you have to see someone else for the future. I don't know. It all sounds so familiar, yet so weird. I have no idea why he dragged me into this in the middle of preparing Vore's dinner. Plus Lila's father probably still hasn't taken the laundry out of the dryer, and by the time I get home, it will all be wrinkled. And I'll tell you, I'm not ironing it, he will have to put every piece in the ironing machine until they're perfect. That man--"

"Stop, I know all about the wrinkled laundry. Can we just get on with this please so I can go back to sleep. This whole thing is freaking me out here. What scares me most is you actually look pretty okay as a chicken."

"Fine, Ms. Impatient. Don't shoot the messenger here because this wasn't my idea. Remember that. I have better things to do with my time than schlep you through the universe on some intergalactic life lesson thing. By the way, do these feathers make me look fat? "

Stellar rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Now I see where Lila gets her craziness and, Ms. Chicken Lady, this century please."

"Fine, cool your hydrogen burners there, missy. We're going. Sheesh. Like I have nothing better to do--"

 "What's that?"

"What where," Lila's Mom responded.

"That there. Testy, what's he doing?"

"Just a minute I can't see over these damn feathers. Wait, he's shopping I think," she answered.

"Ask him what he's buying," Stellar said.

"No, he can't see or hear us. That's the deal remember? Don't you watch old holoflicks?"

"Oh shoot."

"What's the matter?"

"I hate blue grabnab fur. It clashes with my coloring and makes me look as pale as the moons of Sirious."

"He's just looking at it," Lila's Mom defended. "Maybe you can send some sort of psychic message or something."

"Yuk yuk yucky."

"That's the message?"

"Well you said to send a message," Stellar said.

"Yes, but be more creative. No wonder you and Lila are still single. What color do you like?"

"Pink."

"Okay, watch and learn. Pink fur, pink fur, ordering pink fur here."

"Uh huh? And that's any different than saying yuk?"

"You need to be more positive."

"I am positive. Positive that blue fur is yucky."

"This isn't going the way I planned," Lila's mom mused.

"So what's your plan? I just want to get this over with."

"You're supposed to look at some cosmic overview of your life and realize how you're not enjoying all the good things, yudda, yudda, yudda and stop acting like such a pain in the ass buzz kill and--"

"And what?"

"I don't remember any more. I'm not twenty, I forget shit."

 "But this crazy trip through the universe thing you needed to remember?"

"I'd leave now if I could, but we have one more stop."

"Then will you go back to cooking chickens instead of impersonating one please," Stellar pleaded.

"Deal."

Lila had never seen Buster in such a foul mood. She wondered what could have transpired to create this funk, but she was having a difficult time finding the courage to ask.

"I know you're wondering why I'm in such a mood. Thanks for not asking," Buster said softly.

"I'm impressed."

"With what?"

"With you. That's so evolved to notice my mood and communicate yours."

"Thanks for the compliment, I think," Buster said.

"You're welcome and, yes, it is a compliment," Lila whispered.

"I guess since I'm acting so evolved, I should tell you the rest."

"If you want to."

"I want to. This case is making me crazy. There are weird things going on like I've never seen before. I can't seem to make sense of anything. It's like floating through some crazy world where I can't speak the language."

"That's a good thing. Would you really want to understand all this insanity?"

"I'm a policeman. It's my job to understand insanity."

"Okay, let's be clear. I have no desire to be with someone who relates to the whole hot-dog-up-the-ass thing."

"Okay, okay, you're right. But I should know enough about the criminal mind to figure out what's going on here. Even if I don't understand or totally get it."

"But you do understand what's going on here. Some nuts with a vendetta are running around the galaxy shoving food up their victim's butt. Either they are pissed because they once got a bad meal, or the service sucked. Sometimes a five percent tip just isn't statement enough."

Buster laughed. "I hope murder isn't your remedy for bad service in a restaurant. Otherwise, we'll have to start ordering take out."

"Actually, it had never entered my mind, but there is a certain symmetry to the process. You have to admit, there have been times a small tip didn't fit the crime."

Buster laughed. "Maybe you're right. That waitress at The Blue Coffee shop on the moon was the rudest I've ever seen. Maybe a few hits of a Starbucks Latte Tall up her tush would send a message."

Hell of an enema, Lila thought. "But, Buster, there really is a method to this madness. The fact they were all in the restaurant business together, still haunts me. I keep thinking they didn't part as friends. Have you talked to Borgana again?"

"Yes, she was a silent partner. It was a small investment and she let her business manager handle everything. I can't help thinking there's something more here. A disgruntled customer wouldn't be enough to create such anger, this is a real vendetta. What makes people kill? Sex, love, money or relatives?"

"Relatives?"

"Sure family arguments heat up into murder all the time," Buster explained.

"Are any of the partners related?"

"Not as far as I've been able to discern. But that's a valid point. Maybe it's a family member once removed. I'll check it out."

Lila had a feeling, the one she got when she was onto something; her left boob started to tingle and itch. "My boob is tingling."

"I'm driving Lila, there's nothing I can do right now. Unless you want me to turn on autopilot and…"

Lila interrupted, "No, Buster, although hey, why not. No, my boob is tingling because I'm onto something. Whenever I have a hunch, my boob tingles and itches. And it's never wrong."

"You never told me this before."

 "I haven't had a hunch around you before."

"And your boob is always right?"

"Always, my boob is never wrong."

"Lila, do me a favor and never say that in public."

"What?"

"My boob is never wrong."

"Why not?"

"People will think you mean me." He switched on autopilot.

Finally, Hartwell saw a vague outline of the old galleon in the smoke and he realized that Madrigal’s ship had been carried by the waves to almost within jumping distance of the Plymouth. The rowing boat had been torn away from the side of the Plymouth by the forces of wind and water and Hartwell wasted no time in giving his final order on what had been his ship.

“Into the sea and swim,” he commanded. “Powder monkeys,” he yelled to the small used to tend and operate the cannons. “To me.” The boys, who found the captain to be an enigmatic yet fair man and who had witnessed the actions of Admiral Johnson with much indignation, scampered out from their hiding places and joined their captain.

“Grab a boy,” commanded Hartwell. His crew all grabbed at least one child each, as did Madrigal, while Hartwell took the smallest boy in one hand while holding his sister in the other. “Jump! Belay that!” The crew looked in fuzzy incomprehension as Hartwell ran to his cabin at the back of the vessel and emerged after a few moments with a bottle of absinthe. He grabbed the boy and Susanna once more as he re-joined the mutineers and shouted again, “Jump!”

They leapt out into the sea and noticed too late that the water was glowing red, a deep scarlet hue which flashed disturbingly beneath the waves. Fortunately, they all broke the surface of the water with no obvious ill effects. Apart from the strange glow, the sea was normal and the crew swam toward Madrigal’s ship.

It took a while for them to reach the vessel, hampered as they were by holding onto the frightened boys. As they reached the galleon and began climbing the ropes thrown down for them by the crew, they all felt a strange prickling sensation that seemed to envelop the entire body, inside and out. Each person, however, thought it was probably the trauma of the past few minutes and said nothing about it.

Behind them, the sounds of the two navy crews being cursed by Admiral Johnson drifted through the black smoke and white mist. Hartwell knew they only had minutes to escape. “All hands, cut and run!” he roared.

“Do it,” bellowed Madrigal at what was left of his crew. The men swung into action, bypassing the standard procedures by slicing lines to the anchor and rigging in order to expedite the escape of the galleon.

“Powder monkeys, make the cannons ready. Tench, Fitch, you’re on gunnery duty,” continued Hartwell. “Madrigal, where is your pilot?”

“Dead,” replied Madrigal, his lips thinning in fury at the betrayal and slaughter of his crew.

“I understand,” said Hartwell, quietly, “but we have no time for grief now. I need you at the wheel. You know this vessel better than us and your expertise can get us out of here.”

Madrigal nodded, seeing the truth of Hartwell’s words. Madrigal knew how low the galleon sat in the water, what her turn radius was, all the details required to pilot the ship through deep and shallow waters.

“Heading?” he asked.

“Anywhere that is not here,” replied Hartwell. “We’ll worry about a heading if we can outrun the Plymouth and the Morning Star.”

“On this vessel?” said Tench, looking around at the creaking, rotten galleon. “They’re faster, more powerful and new. We don’t stand a chance!”