Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"That's a fair point," Erik conceded with a shrug. He put away the cheap bottle of rum he'd been considering and looked at the higher shelves. Perhaps perfectly good liquor didn't have to go to waste, after all.

Once they had returned to the house Jean Luc looked approvingly at their purchases. "You have good taste," he complimented them before gesturing to a door in the hallway. "Come, everything is ready." He lead them down to the basement where Celine waited.

~*~

Anne Marie looked around in genuine wonder and approval at the explosion of color and culture. Her mother had been from Spain, and her paternal grandmother had been the Turkish wife of the French ambassador; so long as she stayed out of the sun (and she made sure of that) she could "pass," but in her life her complexion had caused her more than one altercation in countries like the Confederacy. She felt strangely comfortable here after spending several days getting sidelong glances from pale people on the street as she walked arm-in-arm with Algie.

"It's marvelous," she grinned.

"Marriage is overrated anyway," Kieran asserted to Raphael's assertion that he couldn't marry a white woman. Women were overrated. He'd fought himself not to pull away when Raphael had taken his arm, still not entirely comfortable with his newfound sexuality. Now his foot slid along Raphael's calf under the table.

"I certainly hope you don't continue to think that way," Anne Marie said lightly. "I want grandchildren, you know." It was as much performance as it was a subtle reminder that they weren't simply socializing. Kieran rolled his eyes.

"Too bad I don't plan on having any," he sniped back. "I hate kids."

Anne Marie snorted and shook her head. "You'll feel differently once you've met the right woman, I'm sure. Now enough talk, dance with me Algie?" She held out her hand and looked hopeful while Kieran sneered derisively.

"Hopeless, that one," he said to Raphael, jerking his thumb at Anne Marie once they'd left the table. "Gold digger, that's all. So..." He took a long sip of his drink before turning in his chair to face his companion and slid one hand down his arm. "Tell me about yourself."
 
Algernon rose, taking Anne Marie's hand as he did. "Shall we dance, my dear?" he asked, escorting her out onto the floor.

Raphael watched them leave, then sipped at his drink. "Oh, where to begin," he laughed. "My family has been in New Orleans since it was a French posession, although my branch didn't take possession of the plantation until after the invasion. As a colored, my grandfather wasn't eligible to be an officer and his pride wouldn't allow him to serve as a common soldier, so he wasn't prrsentvwhen the Martians butchered the Third New Orleans at Savannah."

Cautiously, just in case he'd misread the cues Kieran was giving off, he touched the other man's arm. "As for myself, I took my degree in Accounting at Dillard, with a minor in English." A little shrug. "Father insisted I be able to manage the affairs of the plantation when I inherited. Then, having become interested I. The traditional religions of my ancestors, I toured the Caribbean and a portion of Western Africa."

Kieran hadn't pulled away, so he casually traced a finger along his forearm. "But what of you? You must have traveled as well - you have the most fascinating accent, after all, and one your father lacks."



Sam's guts churned with nervous tension as she followed Celine and Jean-Luc down into the basement. Not out of fear - she was armed, after all, and pretty sue that she could take Jean-Luc bare-handed if she had to - but because of what had happened at the last ceremony. Not that she wouldn't mind Erik watching her with the pretty little Celine, but she wasn't sure about having Colin or Jean-Luc along.

Especially not Colin. He reminded her too much of her brothers.

The basement floor was bare poured concrete, and an elaborate design had been marked out on it in colored dust of some sort. Flour, most likely. Candles lit the scene, even though the house was wired for electricity, and a set of drums rested next to a table holding more candles and other objects she didn't recognize.

"That's the same symbol they carved into the dead woman," Colin remarked.

"It is," Celine replied, equally casually. "The veve of Papa Ghede." She smiled at his frown. "If we are to speak with him, we must signal to him."

Jean-Luc placed the rum and cigars on the table. "And relax. It is no more a thing if evil than the electricity in this house. Men have used good to justify evil since men have walked the earth."
 
"Why should we think it a thing of evil," Erik asked, "if it is not a thing at all? By my admittedly limited understanding of voodoo, it cannot hurt you if you do not believe in it."

He was stubbornly refusing to believe in any of this horseshit. Voodoo hadn't kill this woman, people had. The only reason he was even entertaining this line of reasoning was because of the markings carved into the newest victim. For this reason he stood well back with his arms folded across his chest, watching as Celine and Jean-Luc prepared for the ritual.

~*~

A background story! He'd forgotten to think of a background story...dammit! Mentally he scrambled, keeping a cool demeanor externally as he struggled. "He's from Australia; met my mum--er, mother--when he came to Dublin on business. He fell in love with her and with Ireland, so I grew up there." Kieran threw in a wistful smile for effect. "She ah...she evacuated during the war. We thought she'd be safer there; I stayed with my father to fight. Problem is she went to Galway, and we know how the Battle of Galway Bay went." Galway was still flooded and unlivable, and Kieran had in fact lost several cousins in that battle. "So then this tart comes along," he jerked his head toward the dance floor and watched Madame LaMonte and Professor Swift as he spoke. "Met her on a train to Hamburg and of course all she's looking for is more money. Already got one dead husband she inherited from; I'm sure she's just waiting for him to kick off." They were awfully close, and kissing rather often. The pirate had honestly thought that having known each other for as long as they had it would have been like kissing a sibling.

He turned his face away out of embarrassment when Anne Marie wrapped her arms around Professor Swift's neck and tangled her fingers in his hair while kissing him deeply. They'd fucked a number of times and Kieran felt like he was witnessing her being more intimate than she had when she was naked. It was just...weird to watch them be anything but professional. Still, at least they were selling their story convincingly enough. "So I was wondering how that worked," he said, steering the conversation back to Raphael and absently toying with his fingertips. "I didn't think people of your complexion were allowed to own property, never mind an entire plantation, in this country."
 
"Why should we think it a thing of evil," Erik asked, "if it is not a thing at all? By my admittedly limited understanding of voodoo, it cannot hurt you if you do not believe in it."

"That, my friend," Jean-Luc laughed, "is a thing of utter foolishness. Men who fear vodoun use it as a security blanket, to convince themselves that there is no power in the loa. Does one need to believe in gravity, to fall? In fire, to burn?"

"Hush," Celine said gently. "This is a sacred time, so argue later. For now, the drums." Jean-Luc nodded, taking up a stick in each hand and beginning a slow, throbbing rhythm. "First, we will sing to all the lwa," she said, stepping out into the veve of colored flour. "Sing, and dance. Follow along as you can, if you wish." She winked at Erik. "They will hear, whether you believe or no."

With that, she began to sing in time with the drums. The lyrics were French, and Colin looked startled to realize that they were an Our Father followed by a Hail Mary, sung in an oddly monotone chant. The dance was simple, a sort of slow stomp in a circle, spinning slowly and clapping hands and swaying. As the Hail Mary started, Sam stepped into the circle and began to clap and dance as well. "More fun than jes' watchin'," she told the two men with an embarrassed little grin.

"Se vre lakou a ban m rele lwa yo," Celine sang in the local Creole as the two women circled the veve. Sam followed along fairly well, much more comfortable with this language than the 'purer' French that Anne Marie had been teaching her. "Lè m rele lwa yo, lwa yo tande mwen."

The drum beat picked up the pace. Shrugging, Colin glanced at Erik. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing at the two women. "I mean, it'll be an interesting story for later." With that he waited for a gap and stepped in, clapping and stomping and swaying in a passable imitation of the motion of the two women. His pronunciation left something to be desired, but he stumbled through a rough approximation of the song.

"Si pa te gen Lwa, nou tout nou ta neye!
"Si pa te gen Lwa, nou tout nou ta peri o, nan peyi letranje.
"Nou soti nan Ginen, men nan men, pye nan pye!
"Nou prale yon kote, lè n rive, n a va posede!
"Anba kal negriye, nou prale yon kote, tou benyen, tou poudre ak Gwo Lwa a, n ape navige!"

Celine changed up the steps now, leading the dancers into the center of the veve and back out to the perimeter as she sang in French once more.

"Papa Guédé bel gason
"Guedé Nibo bel gason
"Abiyé tou en blan poil al monté au palais
"ldl abiyé tou en blan li semblé yon député lel abiyé tou en nwa li potré yon sénateur!'

With a thunderous roar, the drums fell silent. "Do you hear us, Papa Ghede? Do you hear us?"

As if in response, Colin swaggered across the veve, slapping her on the butt as he passed by. Leaning against the table, he donned an old-fashioned stovepipe hat, then bit the end of a cigar off and spat it on the floor. "Don't gotta shout none," he laughed, lighting the cigar on one of the candles. "I done heard you, you an' that fine white girl an' her fine white boy." Colin mimed a kiss at Erik, then took a drag on the cigar. "Been busy for me round these parts, recent-like. So, what you want with Papa Ghede, Mama Celine?"


Algernon leaned into Anne Marie as she kissed him, thoroughly enjoying himself. As she pulled away, he caressed her cheek with one thumb. "You play your role well," he said with a subtle, sly grin. "Why, one would almost believe we were living as husband and wife." He kissed her back as they moved in time with the music, hands sliding a little lower than might be considered appropriate. But then, so little of this club seemed concerned with what was appropriate, so he was just fitting in.

Sadly, there was still business to attend to.

"His porch is the right color," he whispered. "But then, two-thirds of the porches in New Orleans are as well. So that is hardly damning evidence. And I do wish we could continue this dance in private," he added, pulling her a little tighter against him and kissing her once more. "Now."

Glancing back at the table, Kieran and Raphael were clearly still deep in conversation. "We should draw him out. See if there is anything in his religious philosophy that would lend itself to the dark deeds we are investigating."



"We can," Raphael said slowly, face hardening. "If we are free. If we have papers, proving we are free and free-born. And if there are no white relatives who can inherit our property, or white buyers who also wish to make a purchase. And as long as we remember our place, and don't upset the white elite." He lifted his glass and swished the alcohol around his mouth before swallowing, as if trying to rid himself of a foul taste. "From what little I know of Ireland, I don't know who has it worse. The Irish under the United Kingdom, or my people under the Confederacy."

The glass thumped into the tabletop. "But I do know we could use Fenians of our own. To shake up the..." He stopped, and drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I've said too much." His attention returned to the dancing couple on the floor. "Has your step-mother given your father a child? Or are you still his sole heir?"
 
Kieran crinkled his nose and shook his head in distaste. "It's bullshit mate, is what it is," he said forcefully, gesturing with his glass before draining it. When Raphael compared his plight to Kieran's, the pirate shook his head dismissively. "They're right bastards, but you can't tell what religion a man is if he's just walking about on the street. And we got rid of our anti-miscegenation laws ages ago. A piece of good luck for me from where I'm sitting." He quirked an eyebrow suggestively, sliding his foot down Raphael's calf under the table. "Particularly in a place like this."

"But I do know we could use Fenians of our own," Raphael said, setting his glass on the table. "To shake up the..." He stopped and drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I've said too much."

"To shake up the what?" Kieran pressed with a smirk. "The find upstanding white Christian gentry? I'm sure I could find a few freedom fighters to send your way..." In his pursuit of the pretty piece of ass it had escaped Kieran that he'd never mentioned being a Fenian, and that he probably oughtn't reveal his connections to them for fear of blowing his cover as an upstanding society gentleman.

"Has your step-mother given your father a child?" Raphael inquired, steering the conversation back toward Professor Swift and Madame LaMonte. "Or are you still his sole heir?"

"Still an only child," Kieran sighed. "Though not for lack of her trying. It's bloody disgusting." He rolled his eyes and glanced, then turned away again as Professor Swift's hand slid scandalously low. "She rabbits on about wanting grandchildren when she's hardly any older than I am." He snorted. "Doesn't seem to realize that that's not going to happen." He watched to see if Raphael would get the hint and perhaps suggest somewhere for them to go.

~*~

"Marriage, if only," Anne Marie teased with a smile. "What a scandal we would cause if the children thought we were living together as a husband and wife. What a preposterous notion, non?" She wiggled her hips a little as Algie's hand slid lower than he would have ever dared at one of the clubs they frequented. It was thrilling.

"His porch is the right color," Algie whispered, before pointing out that 'haint blue' wasn't exactly an uncommon color in Louisiana. Anne Marie rolled her eyes.

"You're ruining a perfectly good date, my love," she teased. "But I did see some spots of paint near the door which looked to be fresher than the rest of it. That may be worth investigating if we can manage to distract him." She glanced over at the table where Kieran's body language had changed significantly. Distracting Chaney might be a bit easier than they had initially thought.

"And I do wish we could continue this dance in private," he added, pulling her a little tighter against him and kissing her once more. "Now."

"Oh but we both know that delayed gratification is so much more satisfying," she purred, leaning in as though to kiss his throat but stopping just shy of actually touching her lips to his skin. "We can send the children out for the evening later," she promised, "and have the entire suite to ourselves. I always miss you whenever we're on a mission."

"We should draw him out," Algie said, glancing over at the table, "see if there is anything in his religious philosophy that would lend itself to the dark deeds we are investigating."

"Oh I think Kieran looks to be doing a perfectly fine job of that," Anne Marie said mildly, following his gaze then looking back to her partner. "A little sweat, a little moaning, a little of that divine death, a little pillow talk...everybody wins." At his expression she sighed, knowing that it may lead to yet another conversation about professionalism and their relationship distracting her from their careers. It might on occasion, admittedly...but that didn't mean they were any worse at their jobs. "We'll still turn the conversation back to his religion," she promised, "but I still think that Kieran will have much better luck pounding that out of him."

~*~

Erik opened his mouth to argue. He most certainly was not afraid of voodoo or loas or any of that nonsense! He simply thought it to be the apex of foolishness. But Mama Celine shushed her husband and Erik thought that as a visitor it might be wise for him to hold his tongue as well. The ritual got underway, and Erik felt like an intruder upon a religious ceremony in which he was most unwelcome, despite Celine's assurances. Sam joined, and he felt a sort of embarrassment on her behalf. Eventually Colin joined in too, and invited him to join. It would have been more awkward, he thought, if he were the only one standing on the outside of the circle. Grudgingly he joined.

He felt absolutely ridiculous. He understood the bastardized French, but with his formal training stumbled over the words. It took him a few moments but he managed to fall in step eventually. Again with his formal training in structured dance he felt like an idiot doing what felt like a sort of dance a child would make up. All he could think was that it was made up: the language, the dance, the ritual, the spell, all of it felt like a game of make-believe perpetrated by children who had seen a movie reel about jungle savages. Not that these people were savages, but it felt as though they were attempting to play at it.

All at once everything stopped. Erik nearly staggered, but caught himself with some dignity as Celine called out for Papa Ghede. He had expected there to be some pause or a ringing silence. Instead Colin swaggered across the floor, groping Celine as he crossed. His eyes widened as the captain spoke in a voice and an accent that was not his own, and shied back when he mimed a kiss at him. This was...supremely uncomfortable. Erik shook his head, unable to process any of this.

"Colin!" he sounded offended in his outburst. "Surely you cannot be serious!"
 
Algernon gave Anne Marie a look of deep concern. "That would be entirely the wrong approach," he said, voice flat and hard. "You know as well as I that torture only guarantees that you will receive the answers you want to hear. Not the truth." He watched Kieran closely for a moment. "Do you think we need to intervene? I have seen him turn violent before, and I would rather wait until we know it is needed."


"Colin?" Colin drew on his cigar and puffed out a ring. "No, mon. I'm not Colin." He grinned. "He's my horse, he is. I'm Papa Ghede. But you all should know that, since you called to me." With that he sauntered across the room, bottle of rum in one hand and cigar in the other, pacing around Erik and examining him from all angles. "Du magst diese Idee nicht, oder? Vielleicht bin ich nur einer von Jungs Archetypen? Ein Ausdruck des kollektiven Unbewussten, gefiltert durch die afro-karibische Kultur, hey boy?"

"Papa Ghede," Celine began.

Colin held up a hand for silence. "Hold on. I'm checking out the talent. And what do we have here?" He walked around Sam now, eying her appreciatively. Then he slapped her ass, and laughed as she spun angrily. "I like you, you hear. You standing on the crossroads, foot in two different worlds..."

"You touch me again, and..." She blinked. "Two... different worlds? Ah don't know what you mean."

"Sure you do," Colin laughed, offering her a cigar. "Sam. Your paths easier, now you've made peace with it. But you tell me, Sam. What did you want to talk to Papa Ghede for?"

Hesitating, glancing at Erik uncertainly, Sam finally pulled herself up straight and looked Colin in the eye. "They's been murders, usin' voodoo an' yer name. An' Ah wanna see if'n y'all kin tell us who's been doin' them."

Colin puffed his cigar. "And what will you do, if I tell you?"

"Stop them," Sam stated, flatly. "Hard."

Swigging from the bottle of rum, Colin pursed his lips. "See, here I've got a problem. Cause I know who they are, but they're worshiping me as surely as Mama Celine here does. They offer the prayers, and they offer the gifts, and they're sincere even though they don't know they are." He shrugged. "Don't seem right, sending doubters after my followers."
 
Erik pondered that. "Es ist ein schlect Idee nicht..." he admitted with a shrug and a tilt of his head. "Aber, warum er? Und wie? Ich habe keine Drogen und so weiter gesehen..." This last was mostly to himself, and "Papa Ghede" was content to ignore him right back, not answering his question of why. He would figure out the hows later, but the suggestion of this "loa" fellow being a construct was the best way he knew how to understand the whole thing, nonsense though it was.

And nonsense though it was, Erik still launched himself at Colin when he slapped Sam's ass and practically undressed her with his eyes. Jean-Luc caught him up in a half nelson before he could do anything, but Erik struggled against him as Colin looked at her like a piece of meat. Construct of the collective unconscious indeed!

"Wie wäre es, wenn ich deinen Hals durch dein Arschloch zerreiße und dich zurückschickst, was auch immer Grube du kroch aus, wenn du es nicht tust?" Erik snarled, still struggling against the much bigger, much stronger man.

~*~

At Algie's countenance and expression of concern, Anne Marie couldn't help but burst into laughter. She leaned her cheek against his for a moment, trying to regain her composure, then smoothed his hair back affectionately and held his face with both hands. "Oh Algernon," she cooed. "My sweet, beautiful Algie. Je t'aime." She leaned in and kissed him sweetly. "My love, your only concern for Monsieur Chaney after spending an evening with our dear Fenian friend should be whether he will be able to sit comfortably."
 
Sam only followed about half of what Erik had said - her German was improving, but the rapid and hostile phrases had whipped right past her. Still, from the Jean-Luc's eyes went wide, it couldn't have been anything friendly. "Calm down, Mister Schmidt," he hissed. "You can't be talking to..."

"No," Colin laughed, "he can, on account of the fact that he just did. Let him go, Jean-Luc." Erik staggered a little as the big man's grip relaxed, and Colin sauntered over. "You got yourselfva big old smart mouth on you, boy." There was an approving note in Colin's voice. "So, I tell you what...."

Drawing on the cigar, he blew a cloud of cmoke into Erik's face. "You take your best shot, son, and you make it count." Tossing the lit cigar aside, Colin stripped off his jacket and shirt and stretched, letting lean, hard muscle ripple. "Cause I'm gonna wreck you. But, if you actually beat me, I'll tell you what you want."

Suddenly, Colin's fist buried itself in Erik's gut. "Gonna have to do better than that, though."



"A few freedom fighters, hm?" Humor dancee in Raphael's eyes. "You are a man of many surprises, Kieran Swift. Could it be that not all of the fortune your step-mother seeks was acquired by means that would be considered... polite?" He held up a hand. "I assure you, it doesn't offend me. A portion of my family wealth derives from smuggling rum and molasses and coffee, after all."

To change the subject, he asked about the status if Kieran's inheritance. The answer made him nod thoughtfully. "Oh, I understand completely," he sighed. "Eventually I shall have to do my duty - make a respectable marriage and ensure an heir. Perhaps I shall even be friends with her, when that day arrives." He rested his hand on Kieran's stroking the pirate's fingers. "But that day is not this day. May I show you around? There are more private rooms, bettercsuited to... conversation."
 
Kieran snickered when Raphael suggested that Anne Marie might inherit fortune from less than legal means. "I may be inheriting, but I've got my own bank account, mate," he assured him, "and that bitch won't get a brass farthing from what I do. My father...probably knows, but if he does he hasn't said anything. I take it as tacit approval." He grinned charmingly as he ordered another drink and mentioned that Anne Marie wouldn't be having grandchildren any time soon. Raphael rested his fingers on the pirate's as they commiserated over the drudgery of being expected to find a wife and produce an heir. The idea of being with a woman wasn't reprehensible to Kieran--after all, he'd done it many times in the past and managed the job just fine--but he couldn't imagine tying himself down to one, nevermind sleeping with her regularly.

Then Raphael offered to show him around and he grinned. "Love to," he said, pushing out his chair and standing with him. "Too loud in here anyway."

He followed the plantation owner upstairs, where the music faded to a throbbing thud, and down a hallway where any number of interesting people moved in and out of the rooms. There were men dressed like women, women dressed like men, men and women dressed in nothing at all, of all colors and sizes and persuasions. The pirate looked around approvingly. This was his sort of place. The smallest twinge of guilt distracted him for a bare moment when he casually thought of how Colin might react to a place so outrageous, but that guilt was easily pushed aside. They were both airmen, after all: constantly on the move, never in the same place very long, and on opposite sides of the law. On top of that Kieran had never made any secret of his notorious philandering. What did Colin expect, that they'd fuck and just like that his entire personality would change?

"So tell me love," Kieran said once they'd slipped into a room, gently pinning Raphael against a wall and leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his neck. "How's a respectable man like you..." Another kiss as his fingers swiftly and deftly unbuttoned his shirt. "Find a wild place like this? Because if your voodoo ceremonies are anything like this place, I might just have to convert..." He slipped his hand down the front of Raphael's trousers, gently gripping his shaft.

~*~

Erik staggered a step or two when Jean-Luc's grip relaxed and he pulled his arms back into a comfortable position. When Colin blew a cloud of cigar smoke into his face his fists clenched, knuckles white, and he shook with rage. After the tension of the past few days, after Sam's belligerence and overcompensating masculinity once she was declared pregnant, after months of arguing with his mother over his choices and trying to reconcile his mother and his almost-wife, after the worry, after the frustrating lack of leads, after being dragged into a bullshit ceremony that no reasonable person would believe in and having to pretend it was real, something inside Erik had snapped. Colin, under the influence of scopolomine or some other psychotropic drug which made him not himself, stripped from the waist up and challenged him to a fight. Erik took a step forward, then doubled over in pain as he was hit in the gut.

That tore it. It felt as though someone else had control of him as Erik whipped off his shirt and laid his pince-nez carefully on the table. He was much thinner than Colin, more wiry and with less defined muscle. Sam had been teaching him how to box, however, and so he wasn't entirely defenseless. His knuckles erupted in pain as he landed a one-two punch in the face, then one more for good measure. He was something Sam had called a "south paw," which she said could give him an advantage in a fight, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference here. Colin hit back like a hammer. Fortunately, Erik hadn't needed boxing lessons to learn how to take a hit; his mild, bookish nature had ensured the attraction of many a childhood bully. He was shocked momentarily out of his blind rage when he swung for the face, missed, and landed a blow squarely in the throat. Regardless of whether Colin had been acting on some repressed desire when he'd acted untoward toward Sam, or whether he was being controlled by some drug, Erik didn't want to accidentally kill him by crushing his windpipe. Had he even hit him hard enough for that?
 
"Erik!" Sam shouted as Colin - or Ghede, in Colin's body - punched her fiancee. As the two circled each other she shrugged out of her long coat. Erik had come a long way, but she damn well wasn't going to stand by and watch him get whipped! Because he would be. Colun was taller and heavier and faster, and... she whipped her head around, glaring murder at Jean-Luc as he caught her arm. "Don't interfere, cherie," he said. "This is a matter fir men."

Behind him, Celine rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Sam glared at the big man for a moment, then punched his wrist. His grip slackened and she tore her hand free, catching him in the stomach with a left-handed jab. It was like hitting a padded tree, but it ooened him up enough for a knee to the crotch followed by her heel smashing into the arch of his foot. Then four rapid punches to his gut sent him to the floor as he tried not to puke. "Don't you never," sbe said in icy tones, "tell me ta stay outta man's work. Y'hear?"

Celine shook her head, equally amused and concerned. "I warned him, last night. But could you please not damage my husband? Because he has a point."

Sam glared at her. "What pointz."

"This is not a brawl, Samantha." She gestured at Erik and Ghede. "This is a contest. And your Erik made the challenge."


Colin - Ghede - chiked and gagged as he staggered back, then chuckked hoarsely. "Got guts there, bookworm." Then he lunged, tackling Erik and smashing him to the floor. They rolled for a minute befire Colin ended up on top, forearm locked around Erik's throat. "Funny thing is, I ain't even gotta work hard to get Colin here to fight. He's wanted to do this for a while, 'ceot he's too well-bred. Got a whole lotta anger and jealousy bottled up, he does."

He hung on as Erik twisted beneath him. "He's had a thing for your gurl since Venice. Just didn't say so, cause he thought she woukdn't be interested. Then you moved in." Colin chuckled nastily in Erik's ear. "A thing for you, too. Jealous of both of you, and angry at you both, and at himself." The arm tightened. "Ain't it funny what comes out of the unconscious, boy? Wonder what you'd say, if I rode you instead?"


"My, you are forward, Mr. Kieran Swift," Raphael laughed, groaning a little as Kieran's hand gripped his shaft. "And our ceremonies? They are frequently, but not always, rather tame affairs." His long, slim fingers worked on Kieran's shirt, stroking his chest as the buttons parted. "Not like you. You, I suspect, are wild."

He pulled Kieran's shirt open and off, tossing it carelessly aside. "Wild and dangerous," he added, tracing the rolling muscles of the pirate's stomach as he explored lower. "Like a very few of our rituals." Slender fingers unfastened his belt and opened his fly, exploring within. "Wild rituals, celebrated to the throbbing beat of the drums, in the dark."

He stroked his hand up and down Kieran's erection, caressing and squeezing. As he did he leaned forward, tasting the pirate's mouth hungrily. "Would you like to see one?"
 
The pirate gasped lightly as Raphael's strong, slender fingers curled around his shaft. Talk of throbbing and wild abandon in the dark didn't help to calm his pulse as they frantically disrobed each other. All thoughts of Colin had fled as his hand slid up Raphael's shaft, his thumb playing over the tip before sliding back down. He moaned as he thrust into his slender hand, and his free hand came to cup the back of Raphael's neck when he caught him up in a passionate kiss.

"Oh God yes," he breathed, gripping Raphael's shoulder in preparation to turn him and pin him against the wall.

~*~

The brawl between Sam and Jean-Luc only dimly registered at the peripheral of Erik's attention. Once it was clear he hadn't killed Colin he straightened and waited for the stronger man to straighten. He wasn't going to fight dirty just because he was at a disadvantage. But then stars burst in front of his eyes when Colin tackled him to the floor. They tussled for a minute before Erik found himself in a headlock. The German twisted and scrambled beneath him, vision dimming as "Ghede" told him things--nasty things--that Colin never would have admitted to except under the influence of some substance. He wondered aloud what Erik might say if he were also victimized.

"I'd tell you..." he choked, "to get...the fuck...off..." With a mighty effort he threw his head back to slam Colin in the face with his skull, not hard enough to dislodge him, but hard enough to make him loosen his grip and give them both headaches. With a jab to the torso with his elbow Erik was free at least for the time being. He crawled away, choking and gasping, then staggered to his feet. "And I'd say you hit like a twelve-year-old girl." Not true, of course, but from personal experience he knew that the right twelve-year-old girl could hit much harder than expected.
 
"You are in too much of a hurry, Mr. Kieran Swift," Raphael assured him, stroking the pirate's thick shaft. "But then, so am I." He squeezed lightly, then reluctantly released him. "First, though... something to make it better." Crouching, he took the opportunity to suck Kieran's head into his mouth and circle it with his tongue as he fumbled for his breeches.

"Better for both of us," he added, opening a small jar and dipping his finger into it. There was a pale, clear grease on his fingers, one that smelt faintly of mint, and Raphael began to smear it liberally on Kieran's pulsing erection. "The tingle is menthol," he explained. "It will keep you harder longer, and enhance our pleasure. And the ointment will make penetration easier."

Grinning, he swioed the last of it on Kieran's stomach, then rose and leaned against a table. "Is this how you want neme?" he asked, spreading his legs.


Sam stared, mouth agape at Colin's confessional taunt. He was jealous? Of Erik? And of her? That meant... Suddenly, little behaviors she'd noticed in Colin sprang to mind in a whole new light. Paying for dinner at a nice restaurant, that last night in Venice. The way he made a made sure to hold doors and pull out chairs for her, even though it annoyed her. Invitations to concerts and lectures, and asking her to accompany him to the museum.

"Shee-it," she hissed. "Ah'm as blind as th' Perfessor."

"Ghede is a harsh spirit," Cecilia murmured, wincing as Colin tackled Erik once more. "There are no secrets in death, after all. But he is fair."

With a burst of strength, Erik heaved Colin off him. The aeronaval captain rolled, then struggked awkwardly to his hands and knees. "What the hell just happened?" he asked, sounding confused before spotting Sam. The color drained from his face. "Oh, no. I didn't..."

"Sure did, boy," Ghede laughed, stalking towards him in Erik's bruised bidy. "Round two, now."
 
"Oh!" Ghede wriggled Erik's shoulders as though adjusting in a newly tailored jacket. He took a skipping step toward Colin before pulling back and kicking him in the stomach. Hard. "Oh!" He laughed heartily as he booted the captain onto his back. "Oho does this one got an earful for you, boy!" He knelt on Colin's chest and pinned him by the neck with his forearm, using his weight and wiry build in ways Erik hadn't yet learned. "He's seen the way you look at his woman. His. Woman. Pisses him off, you know, the way he don't get the same respect as you because the little girl can hand his ass to him."

If Colin passed out now it would end, and that just wouldn't be as fun. Ghede remained on his chest, but removed the pressure from his windpipe. "Better looking. More confident. Stronger." He punctuated each word with a blow to the face. "He knows that any day now he'll wake up and there'll be nothing left but a note, even though you're less of a man." Two more punches and Erik stood to start kicking him once again. "He's disgusted by you, you know. You and that pirate whore." Ghede landed kick in the side then stalked around to Colin's other side. "Suuure he grapples with it. Tries to hide it. You're a better agent," another blow, "a better marksman," another, "should be no difference, right? But deep down--not even that deep, really--you repulse him. And now you're set on stealing his woman, you filthy half-man."

He stood back and allowed Colin to breathe and recover a little. "So get up then." He chuckled as he watched Colin struggle. "Show him how much of a man you really are. Winner takes all, hm?" He smirked darkly and jerked his head in Sam's direction. "I said get up!" Erik barked, moving as though to kick Colin again to make him move faster. Ghede wiggled his shoulders a little again, and successfully mixed his surprise with a cruel glee while the captain struggled to his feet.

~*~

"Better?" Kieran raised an eyebrow and smirked. The smirk was replaced by surprise when Raphael sank to his knees and sucked on his head. "Fuck..." he breathed, putting a hand on Raphael's head. He tried to pull him back, but he was preoccupied with a jar full of some substance. The grease was cool and tingly on his shaft, and he made a noise of surprise as he looked down at the man at his feet.

"Trust me love, I've no problem staying hard for a long time." His stomach twitched at Raphael's touch and the line of coolness left there. "But if it'll make it even better..." Kieran put his hands on the table on either side of Raphael, pinning him between the table and his body. He grinned as Raphael spread his legs, and pulled his knees up over his hips like he might have a woman.

"Well, for now," he chuckled, kissing Raphael deeply and sliding his hands over his ass.

The pirate vaguely recalled the image of the table sliding by his vision and a thudding pain before everything went black.
 
"You... son of a bitch..." Colin croaked, rage glittering in his eyes as he rolled away from Ghede's kick and scrambled to his feet. "I knew you weren't interested in men, so I never hinted. But, 'half-man'?". He threw a punch, and blood spurted from Erik's nose as he connected. "Sam's no different, you hypocritical bastard! You don't deserve her!". He threw another and another, wanting to smash in the sanctimonious German's face. Wanting to hurt/I] the little bastard.

From the sidelines, Sam's eyes narrowed in anger. "This's gone far enough," she hissed, starting forward. "Ah'm puttin' a stop talking...". A hand fell on her shoulder and she stopped, slowly turning to glare at Cecilia. "What?" she demanded, venom dripping from her voice.

To her credit, Cecilia didn't flinch. "You musn't interfere..." she began.

Sam gripped her hand and threw it from her shoulder. "Watch me.". Then she spun on her booted heel and stalked across the room. Colin was closest, so she moved in him first. A knuckle punch to the kidney put him down, gagging in pain. "Y'all sit down!" she spat. "Ah'm..."

And then Erik punched her.


The dancing was a delight. Really, any opportunity to be close with - affectionate with - Anne-Marie in public was a delight. And so Algernon made the most of it, trying to observe the energetic dances of the jazz afficiniados and emulate them. But, after a number of songs, he was feeling winded and thirsty. So as the latest ended, he offered his love his arm and escorted her from the floor. "We shall dance again, I promise," he said, breathing a little hard. "Once I catch my breath and have a drink."

Ordering a boilermaker from a passing waiter, he held out Anne -Marie's seat and then joined her. "We shall have to find more opportunities to do this," he continued, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. "It is most invigorating. I shall have to take lessons, though.". He glanced around the room. "And where have Colin and our host gotten off to?"



Despite the pain, Colin watched in horror as Erik's fist connected, whipping Sam's head around. It had been meant for him, he knew. Erik had cocked his fist as Sam punched him, and started to swing as he went down. He should have taken it. It should be him who Erik hit, his blood spraying from a split lip. Not Sam's. God, no, he pleaded silently. Not this! Gagging with pain, he clutched his back and tried to rise.

Sam stepped back, calmly turning her ice blue eyes to sweep over them both. "Do you all feel better, now?" Ghede asked, contempt dripping from her voice. "Feel like men now, do you?" She touched her split lip, glanced at the blood on her fingertips. "Do you?"
 
Ghede did him no favors. Erik had felt his body moving, had heard the words come from his mouth, but none of his actions were his own. He'd struggled through long enough for the pure rage to overtake him for a bare few seconds as he yelled at Colin to stand, but had drowned again under the influence of the demon. That was the only thing he could think of to describe it, though he knew that couldn't be true. Ghede left him mere seconds before his fist connected with Sam's face. Blood drained from his face and he covered it with both hands, feeling sick. Oh God he hadn't...but he hadn't meant...

"S-Sam?" he asked shakily, taking half a step forward but honestly terrified of what she might do. Not that she would hit him back--he could take being hit--but that she might have taken in all that he'd said and, this on top of all of it, decided she was done with him. God he would have rathered pitch himself headlong off of the Devil King's complex than strike her! He felt nauseated with guilt and shame, and couldn't even attempt to look at Collin. "Samantha, Liebchen--"

It wasn't Sam who answered. Her voice was hard and contemptuous, as she would have had every right to have been, but it wasn't her. The look in her eye, the timbre of her voice, the way she spoke...it turned a hard knot in Erik's stomach to think that she was in the grip of that monster. He straightened and clenched his jaw as Ghede chastised them.

"You haven't beaten us," he said plainly, wanting to just make it go away. "Give us the information we summoned you for." If it challenged him to strike Sam again they would just have to go away without the information they'd sought, because they wouldn't do it. But Erik was concerned with finishing this and getting whatever it was out of his wife...if she still wanted to be his wife.

~*~

Anne Marie grinned uncontrollably as Algie led her around the dance floor energetically, sometimes missing steps but never fumbling. She laughed and took his arm, brushing locks of hair away from her sweat damped face as he led her to their table.

"Absolument," she agreed, seating herself. "But my love I could easily teach you. And would not it be better to have a teacher you know and little rewards for doing well?" She smiled and leaned in to kiss his neck. She followed his glances and shook her head, amazed at how he hadn't guessed yet. "Oh they slipped off some time ago." She dug in his pocket without asking permission to grab out his pocket watch, then replaced it and let her hand linger for longer than it would have if she were being appropriate. "It's only been fifteen minutes. Give them fifteen or twenty more. Don't want to be rude and interrupt something, after all."
 
"I haven't beaten you?" Ghede smirked with Sam's voice. "I rather think I have. I've...Y'all ain't beat shit.". Confusion flickered across Sam's face, followed by a defiant set of the jaw. "Jes" cause y'all done made Erik an' Colin make fools outta themselves? That ain't beating: nuthin"."

Sam shook her head, the sly expression returning. "They couldn't stop me revealing their secrets. You can't..."

"What?" Sam drawled. "Ah can't stop y'all from makin' me say Ah feel like a fake all th' damn time? That Ah'm scared Erik'll find someone smarter an' prettier, an' leave?". Her expression hardened. "That you...". Amusement, now. "Still carry a damn torch fer Anne? Reckon Erik knows that, jes' like he knows that sometimes Ah wish he was tougher an' stronger. Or are y'all study's n' ta tell him-". Her vote ce changed again. "That you wish you'd been born a man."

"Damn right Ah do," Sam snapped back at herself. "Been a whole family first easier if' Ah had. But Ah weren't, an Ah ain't changin' now. Now, y'all gonna fess up, or do Ah gotta whip yer ass?"

Sam chuckled at that. "I concede. The ones you seek were not believers when they began, and they lie and say they still do not believe. Your Anne Marie has met their houngan today, and the pirate is with them now." With that, Sam collapsed to the floor.



"I suppose you are right, my dear," Algernon agreed with a sigh. "It would not do to interfere when he is embedded deeply. Not unless he calls for assistance." He lifted his glass and toyed with it. "Damnation," he swore without heat. "This is like grappling with smoke. I can only hope that the others have learned more, or that Kieran uncovers something."
 
God but he made it too easy! Anne Marie covered her mouth for fear her snickering would give her away, but Algie seemed more concerned with philosophically addressing his drink in any case. She shook her head and looked away, wishing for all the world it weren't so rude to out Kieran however obvious he may be about it.

"I'm sure he's managing quite well on his own," she assured him, patting his arm gently. Fifteen minutes went by, however. Then twenty. Then thirty. Growing concerned, Anne Marie looked at Algie's pocket watch again and rose. "I think perhaps it is time we checked on our Captain Shane," she suggested calmly. "Something seems to be amiss."

~*~

She hadn't said anything he didn't know already, not really. All ridiculous, foundationless insecurities or open secrets between them. Things that stung, certainly, but nothing he didn't know and that they weren't working on. When Ghede suggested that Sam wished she'd been born a man, however, and when she didn't refute this, Erik raised his eyebrows. That was new. It was most assuredly something they would need to talk about once this case was settled...again, if she would still have him. But even that was thrown from his mind when Ghede gave them the information they'd come for and Sam collapsed.

"Samantha!" He rushed to her and gingerly picked her up. With a furious, contemptuous glare at Celine and Jean-Luc he turned on his heel and stalked back up the basement steps without another word. "Madame LaMonte and Kieran went with the Professor to see that Monsieur Chaney fellow, did they not?" he said once Colin had caught up. They had to walk around the block to get to the car, but his legs made short work of it. He struggled with the rear door but managed to get in with Sam in his lap. "It said she had met one of them, and that Kieran was with them. I believe they all three are in great danger."

The ride was long, and the silence unbearable. As Erik tended to Sam in the back seat and Colin drove he searched for the right words. Were there even right words? It was such a warm night that he only realized twenty minutes down the road that he'd forgotten his shirt and pince nez in the basement. This should be an interesting fight. Finally he took a deep breath and hung his head.

"I'm sorry, Colin," he said into the icy silence, "for what it said. Please believe me that I never would have said those things of my own accord, and I apologize for them."
 
Colin didn't reply for a full minute, unless the whitening of his knuckles on the steering wheel was a response. "I... want to be furious," he finally gritted out. "Just as I want to excuse what I said as merely being under the influence if some chemical. But...". The laugh he uttered sounded fake and forced. "Damn my education. Because it doesn't let me abide hypocracy.". With that said, he let his grip ease. "We are both fools, are we not? But you, I suppose, are the luckier one.". He glanced right, then sighed. "Shall we try to be friends again? I can forgive if..."

"Yer a lyin' sumbitch," Sam murmured from the back of the car. "Y'always get all stilted an' formal when yer pissed off, Colin."

The car jerked as Colin jumped at the interruption, and Sam swore softly and gripped her head with both hands as he got the car back under control. "Sam!" he gasped.

"Yeah, Ah ain't daid," she grumbled. "Jes' feel wicked hung over.". Moving carefully, she leaned against the seat back and rested her hands on Erik's bare shoulders. "Where we goin'? Did Ghede tell us?"

"To meet the Professor and Madame LaMonte," Colin supplied. "They're going into a trap."

Sam leaned her forehead against the back of Erik's skull. "Then swing by th' hotel on th' way. Ah reckon we'll want us some firepower, in that case.". She peered sidelong at Colin. "Reckon we all got some talkin' ta do. Later. Kin y'play nice, till then?"

"Of course.". Colin hesitated. "I mean that. We should talk, yes, but I'd hate to ruin two delightful friendships by being an utter ass. Will you accept my apology until then, Erik?"



The door was locked. It was the door to the room Kieran and and Raphael had entered - a small gratuity to the waiter had revealed that - and it was locked. So the Professor knocked. "Son?" he called, maintaining the semblance of their cover. "Are you in there?". No response came, so he knocked louder. Still nothing. So he stepped back, and slammed his heel into the wood by the lock. On the third blow the mechanism gave way, and he entered the room with gun drawn.

It appeared, for all the world, to be a middling quality hotel room - bed, dresser, a selection of small bottles of wine. But it was empty. No, wait. Not empty. Kieran's left shoe was on the floor, just beneath the bed. Scowling, he peered around. "He was here. But... where did he go?"
 
Anne Marie drew her weapon as Algie kicked in the door and swept the room. It certainly had appeared to be going well for Kieran. With a sinking heart she lowered her weapon but didn't let her guard down. How could she have been so foolish? Algernon questioned where he could have gone as he held up one of Kieran's shoes and she sighed and rubbed her face.

"He was one of them," she groaned. "Celine and Jean Luc were an unnecessary path; Calypso had given us the correct name all along. They've probably gone back to the plantation." With a sinking feeling in her gut and a determined fire in her heart she swept out of the room, toward the back stairs. There was no time for idle speculation and standing around; if they wasted much more time than they already had, Kieran would die.

~*~

Wanted to be furious? He was furious. Sometimes they all forgot that the others were more observant than they let on, and Erik had plainly seen Colin's grip on the wheel tighten. His assurances rang hollow and although he was surprised when Sam's voice came from the back Erik was grateful for it. Breeding in both men would not have allowed them to talk more about it and they would have wound up playing at friendship when it had been destroyed. Sam's hands on his shoulders felt nice, comforting...but Colin wasn't the only one he needed to apologize to.

"Of course," Erik replied in response to Colin's question. "So long as you will accept mine."

The ride back to the hotel was quiet and tense, though less so than before. Erik helped Sam up the stairs--she refused to let him carry her--and quickly retrieved a new shirt and spare pince nez. Once they had gathered the weapons they deemed appropriate, Erik helped her back down the stairs.

"Liebchen are you sure you should be coming? You've just been through quite an ordeal and you're still not completely recovered." He couldn't help glancing down, however briefly, to her stomach. His concern was primarily for her, of course, but also for their child. She wasn't showing so it wasn't quite real yet, not to him, but it was still a consideration.
 
Sam swallowed a mouth full of water, swished it around her mouth, then swallowed. "Reckon Ah'll be all right," she said, locking a bolt into the firing chamber of the broken-down weapon she'd recovered from their room. "Still got me a headache, but Ah'll manage. Sides, them fuckers aim ta do worse ta Kieran, an mebbe he's a bit o' an ass - no offense, Colin - but he's our ass.". Chewing on her lip, she began assembling a barrel.

"None taken," Colin said lightly. "And Erik just means..."

"Ah know what Erik means," she interrupted, reaching out to squeezed her fiance's shoulder reassuringly. She grimaced aat the traces of gun oil left behind in the fine Egyptian cotton, then went back to work. "An' e'en though Ah'd have kicked yet ass a year ago fer it, Ah love yeh fer it.". There was a click as she slid the stock into place. " But me an' th' baby both'll be fine either. An' they're another gal an' her baby who won't be, an' I plan on sendin' them son's o' bitches on ta Hell fer that.". Looking up, she smiled sweetly at them both in the rear view mirror. "Sides. Yeah both know Ah'm better'n a fight than th' both o' yeh together."

"What kind of rifle is that/" Colin asked, trying to change the subject.

"Thompson M1921," she declared, holding the submachine gun up. "With th' Type XX box mag, 'cause th' damn drum jams. Them heat ray's are pretty sweet, but Ah wanna scare hell outta folk along wit' killin' 'em.". Catching Erik's expression, she grinned and squeezed his shoulder again. "Don't worry, baby. Ah'll take care o' yeh. Which reminds me..."

Digging in the bag, she passed a short-barreled shotgun up to Erik. "Winchester 1897. Five shells an' one in th' chamber. Fer room-clearin'."


The Professor took the stairs two at a time, holstering his pistol as he went. "Damnation!" he sword, furious at himself for his mistake. Anne Marie was right, of course. He'd missed it, and the fact that she'd missed it as well didn't make it sit any better. Not with one of his agents held by maniacs. "Our host drove," he remarked, thinking out loud. "We'll need to secure transportation, and quickly. The faster we move, the greater the odds that Kieran survives this."

He strode across the dining area, pushing imperiously through the clientele and shoving his way into the kitchen. "Our resources are limited, but they improve once we return to the plantation - I have additional arms and a wireless in the boot. Until then, sidearms must suffice - I have an extra pistol, if you are unarmed.". Ignoring the outraged cooks, he threw open the outside door and stalked across the parking lot towards a lng white car. "That will do nicely."
 
A steady stream of both French and English expletives came from under Anne Marie's breath as they flew down the stairs and through the dining room. The music sounded strangely muffled behind the doors which led to the dance floor and the "club" proper, and the sound was drowned out entirely by the sounds of a busy kitchen and the cries of angry cooks. She snorted at the idea that she was unarmed, but simply followed the charge through the kitchen. It was difficult to tell whether he was being gentlemanly or if he'd forgotten that he'd trained her and she would never be caught dead unarmed during a mission, but she didn't deem now the appropriate time to talk about it.

Algie led the way towards a beautiful white Lancia. Anne Marie didn't wait for his manners but let herself into the passenger's side. A man shouted and started across the parking lot, wielding a vicious-looking knife. She whipped her heater from its holster on her thigh and drew it level with his face.

"Try it," she challenged with a snarl as Algie climbed into the driver's seat. The man paused for a moment before deciding that a woman with a gun wasn't much of a threat. His pants leg caught on fire as she grazed his knee when she fired a shot across the hood into the parking lot. "Try it again." She kept her sights trained on him until Algernon had successfully hotwired the car and sped off. Once they were on the road she slumped down in the seat and sighed, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "You doubted your pupil, my dear?" she managed a tight smile over at Algie, but couldn't keep the worry from her face as they made their way out of town and back to the plantation.

~*~

Erik flushed, then relaxed a little when Sam squeezed his shoulder. There was indeed gun oil on his fresh shirt, but he didn't mind: he knew a good washer woman who could get out any stain, and gun oil was part of the symphony of scents that made up that which was quintessentially Sam. His expression softened considerably when she declared that she loved him for considering the baby, because she most definitely would have kicked his ass a year ago for even mentioning it. Had it really been less than a year? Yes...September. Well, before that really, when they'd started exchanging letters while she was convalescing in Barcelona. But September had been when he had taken her dancing. It really had only been seven months. Seven months and he was in love with an incredible woman; seven months and he had changed so much, and so had she; seven months and now he was going to be a husband...a father. It was amazing what could happen in less than a year. He was overhwelmed, briefly, with a wave of love for Sam. His beautiful, tough Tejas Ranger Samantha.

"That you are, Schatze." He smiled a little, always willing to admit that she was better than he in a fight. Most all of them were: while the others were hardly dullards by any means, he was the researcher, the polyglot, the resident focused intellectual. The others were men of action; he was a man of letters. Colin didn't seem comfortable with this abject truth, however, and turned his attention to the weaponry. He smiled a little as she started talking lovingly about her guns. A frown briefly crossed his expression when she talked about going in guns blazing, again worried about the baby.

"Oh, lovely," he remarked lightly, examining the shotgun. He'd learned a good deal more about ordinances since they'd been together. "But taking care of me wasn't what I was worried about, you know."
 
"Never," Algernon assured her, starting the car. "I was merely uncertain what sort of armaments you might have concealed about your person.". He backed up, changed gears, and sent their stolen vehicle roaring out of the parking lot. "Your dress displays you in a most delightful fashion, and I was unsure where you might have hidden a weapon. So offering you one seemed the gentlemanly thing to do."

He weaved around cars and horse-drawn buggies with a nonchalant ease, ignoring the shouted protests that faded into the distance. "I only hope," he continued, "that Rafael will be returning to his home with Kieran. That is our only lead, after all, and we would lose time and jeopradize his safety if we have to ransack it for clues.". Horns screamed as he rocketed through an intersection without slowing, weaving to avoid cross-traffic. "You aren't wearing synthetics, are you?"

Traffic thinned as they reached the outskirts of the city. Smiling to himself, he fed the vehicle gasoline and let the engine open itself up.


"Yeah, Ah know that ain't what you were frettin' about," Sam laughed. "An' yet sweet fer it. But y'kin stop now - Ah ain't so pregnant that th' baby's slowin' me down none. Not yet, nohow.". She started to lean over the seat to kiss her fiance on the cheek, then hesitated with a guilty look at Colin. She'd never been shy about being affectionate before, but it suddenly felt awkward doing it before a man who'd been interested in her.

Noting her expression, Colin grinned ruefully. "Don't mind me," he assured her, then focused his attention on the road. It didn't bother him. It shouldn't bother him. Nothing had changed, not really. Except for the airing of thoughts that he'd not allowed himself to think. But... Sam and Erik had found one another. And he? He had a pirate who was shying away from 'romance' and who didn't have the decency to ask about his affairs.

So he focused, not wanting to acknowledge the happy couple that shared the car with him. Another car sped past. He watched it, then blinked and looked again. "Was that... did the Professor and Madamr LaMonte just pass us?"
 
"It appears they did," Erik said with some bemusement. This was confirmed when Madame LaMonte twisted in her seat to look back at them, then turned back around and said something to Professor Swift. "I suppose we ought to follow them, oughtn't we?"

~*~

"Mais non. I have learned my lesson about synthetics." They sped past another car. "Was that...?" Anne Marie turned in her seat then back around again. "The others are behind us. Make sure we do not lose them, mon amour. I think we will need all the manpower we can get."

~*~

The engines were cut off halfway up the driveway. It wouldn't do to alert the cult to their arrival with the sound of cars coming straight up to the house. Erik frowned as the parties approached each other. "Professor, Madame, what--?"

"They've got Kieran," Anne Marie answered softly. "We were stupid enough to let him off alone with Monsieur Chaney and they disappeared from the club. They've had a twenty, maybe thirty minute head start on us and--dear God what happened to your faces?" In the dark she was able to make out how beaten and bruised all three of them were. "I thought you were going to see Celine and Jean Luc?"

Erik shook his head. "It's a long story. We've more pressing matters." With that he cocked the shotgun and began leading the way up the rest of the drive to the plantation house.

~*~

Kieran's vision was fuzzy and his thoughts fuzzier. He dimly registered the glowing gas lights above him and music playing dimly in the background. Maybe in another room? Maybe above his head? He couldn't tell. He tried to move but found it difficult to lift his arms and his abs hurt at the strain from trying to sit up. This was a comfortable enough spot to rest, anyway. Well, not comfortable per se, but he'd slept in worse places. A face swam into view and he smiled vaguely.

"Must've really knocked me off my feet, love," he chuckled drunkenly, "I can't move. Don't even remember what happened, really...guess we'll just have to go again."
 
"We did," Sam replied grimly, ratcheting back the action of her Thompson and checking the magazine was loaded before jamming it in. "An' we learned us a few things. Even if'n we didn't reckon we needed ta learn them. But they got them Kieran?" The bolt rattled home again. "Let's get goin', then."

"Rather," Colin agreed, selecting a heat ray from the boot of the Professor's car. After a moment he chose a pump action shotgun of his own.

"You all right, Colin?" Sam asked, eying him carefully. "It's Kieran, after all..."

"No," Colin said, flatly. He checked the rounds chambered in the shotgun, then threw a bandolier of shells over his shoulder. "But I won't do anything foolish, if that's what you're alluding to."

Sam laughed once, grimly, then clapped him on the shoulder. "Perish th' thought, Colin. Perish th' thought." She settled the sling of her own weapon around her shoulders. "Let's hoof it, afore Erik takes care o' everything."

Professor Swift had his own weapon out, a large-framed revolver that glinted dully in the moonlight. His backup weapon was a heat ray, and a slim-bladed dagger he'd slipped into one sleeve. Sam didn't believe that these were the only ones he - or Anne Marie, for that matter - carried. "Are you certain you should take part in this, Samantha?"

"This 'bout me bein' pregnant?" she replied flatly as she followed in Erik's wake.

"Yes," the Professor replied. "But not in the way you think. I saw the emotional response you had to the most recent victim. Will that response interfere with you carrying out your duty?"

"Dunno," was Sam's casual reply. "Depends on what yer thinkin' mah duty is. Me, Ah reckon it's ta kill every last one o' them mother fuckers, as quick as possible."

The Professor nodded slightly. "We need one alive," he said carefully. "At least one. To ensure that none of the - as you put it - mother fuckers escapes. Can you do that?"

"Ah ain't makin' no promises," came her response after a moment. "Ah'll try, but Ah ain't gonna let one o' y'all get bushwacked jes' so's we kin interrogate someone."

"A reasonable condition," Algernon allowed.



"Door's locked," Colin reported.

Sam nodded, then dug out the other object she'd brought from the car - a two-foot crowbar. Slinging he weapon, she jammed the hooked end into the door. "Cover me," she hissed, gripping the steel bar. Two shotguns came up as she pulled, ready to fill the hall beyond with buckshot. She tugged, swore a little, shifted her grip, and tugged again. A cracking sound filled the air, shockingly loud in the silence, and then she staggered backwards as the lock gave way and the door flew open.

No response. But in the distance, the wailing of horns and the slow beat of drums could be heard.
 
Their progress through the house was too effortless. Erik tensed and aimed his weapon at every noise, but it was just sounds of the house settling as they cleared each room. Captain Drake brought up the rearguard, but there was no word of warning from him, either. He was anxious to get to Kieran, but they needed to make sure they couldn't be surprised from the direction they'd just come as they followed the music.

Kieran was tied spread-eagle and naked to an altar in the sitting room the three of them had visited just that afternoon. On the Victrola spun the record from whence the music came, and the pirate groggily bobbed his head side-to-side to the slow beat. When his head came back to face the door, he grinned stupidly at his rescue party.

"Oi," he said in greeting before returning his attention back to the music. Well he wouldn't be of any use at all in his own rescue.

"Kieran what happened?" Madame LaMonte asked, slipping past Erik and kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently she laid her heat ray near her knee before beginning to pick at the knots.

"He got chose is what." The sheriff stepped from a door hidden in the wall, aiming a gun at Anne Marie. Colin felt the cold metal of a gun barrel against his temple at about the same time. "Don't even think about it li'l girl," he snarled as she reached for her weapon. "Do it and he's dead. Now get to your feet." Anne Marie remained kneeling, one hand on Kieran's wrist with the knot half-loosened. Losing his patience, Sheriff Duvernay crossed the room with two long steps and gripped her by the scalp. "I said git up!" Anne Marie cried out dramatically, bringing her hands to her hair as she did so and subtly slipping a long pin from her careful updo and carefully concealing it. Wouldn't do to accidentally poison herself, after all.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom