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

Erik knew that look all too well and looked down shamefacedly. Oh God how much had she seen? "Mother, I can--"

But she wasn't having any of it. His father was understanding enough, fortunately. But then his mother implied things about Sam he wouldn't tolerate from anyone else and his face snapped up, suddenly mirroring her icy glare. "Mother!" His father stepped in on his behalf and he nodded a thanks. It had always gone this way, no matter how old he'd gotten, but now with the implications she'd just made he had to take a deep breath before speaking.

"She is not a prostitute," he said sharply, color rising in his face. "We've been...seeing each other. For the past two months. We met at work, our work brought us here, our colleagues are staying here and so is she. Our colleagues, by the way," he added with a pointed look, "include several well-respected members of society including French aristocracy and the English landed gentry." That had always been important to Frau Heinz-Schmidt, that Erik associate with the 'right sort' of people. "I am very much fond of her. I ah...I was hoping to introduce her to you. Perhaps over breakfast?"

Well, he'd gotten over the hard part. Being 'very much fond' of Sam was a vast understatement and from the look on his father's face Erik knew he knew that. His mother knew too, but from the icy, reptilian look in her eyes wasn't quite so understanding. Erik stood in the hallway with bated breath, waiting for what she might have to say to his getting serious about a girl. She'd been nagging him about taking a wife, certainly, but she didn't know Sam from a hole in the ground, and furthermore she wasn't from any sort of money or title; she wouldn't be pleased when she learned that, but getting a foot in the door and making way for her to get to know Sam first was the important part.
 
Free of the ropes - a pity, that - Sam wracked her brains. Her pretty silk robe would be clothes, technically, but it was cut scandalously short. That wouldn't help much, especially with her drawers lying God only knows where. So she settled for wrapping a sheet around herself more or less like a toga. It woukdn't fool anyine, but it covered her at least. So, by the time the door opened, she wasn't technically naked.


"Yes, over breakfast," Joseph agreed. "That would be delightful."

"I will not..."

"Come along, Anna," jiseph insisted, voice mild. "This will look better in the morning." He shot his son a quick grin. "Good night, Erik."



Small mercies, it was only Erik. Everyone else had moved on. "So," she said, perching on the edge of the bed. "Yer folks are home? Kinda... well, awkward." She sighed, looking down at thefloor. "Ah... Erik? Ah don't speak much German yet, but... do 'Hure' an 'Prostituierte' mean what Ah think?"
 
Erik gave his father a small smile of gratitude. "Good night Father. Mother."

With a sigh he rubbed his face before slipping back into the bedroom, making sure first that his parents were in no position to see inside. He assumed Sam would have sense enough to at least cover herself, but imagined she might still be mortified if they saw her. He sat on the edge of the bed with her, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry, Schatze," he said wearily. "I didn't expect them home for another week. I suppose business didn't keep them as long as they thought."

"Ah...Erik? Ah don't speak much German yet, but... do 'Hure' an 'Prostituierte' mean what Ah think?"

His heart sank. Erik knew that Sam had issues she was working through with Anne Marie: body issues, possibly issues with expressing her sexuality. He'd have given anything for her not to hear what his mother had said. "Meine Mutter, she...Well, she jumps to conclusions," he tried to explain. "And it's often the worst possible conclusion. I was also accused of paying for prostitutes for the entire house, so it wasn't just you. Suspicious minds and all that." He kissed her temple, silently hoping it hadn't gotten to her. "Ignore it."

Slowly Erik leaned back until he was laying on his back across the bed, pulling Sam with him and holding her. He enjoyed simply laying with her and holding her almost as much as he enjoyed fucking her. "I hope you don't mind, but I set things up for you to meet them tomorrow at breakfast. It ah...it was the only thing I could think of, spur of the moment."
 
"Breakfast is fine," Sam whispered, kissing him back. Then she smiled. "At least we ain't gotta worry none about whether or not they think we're sleepin together..."

Fuck. That reminded her. She was still horny as hell. But poor Erik,,, after arguin with his folks, he seemed plum tuckered out. Which wouldn't do at all. She started to try to pout - something she'd never been good at - then began to smile as an idea struck her. "Hang on," she whispered. "Ah'll be right back."

Call her a whore, would they?

She rose, crossing the room and licking the door. Then, walking slowly back, she let the sheet slip to the floor. "Seems ta me," she said conversationally as she knelt before him, "that Ah ain't rightly fulfilled mah contract. See..." She began stroking his dick, smiling as it surfed back to life. "Y'all done paid quite a bit fer th' best Tejas whore in Berlin, an' Ah got a professional reputation ta protect."

He was nicely hard again, so she crawled forward and cradled his cock between her breasts, watching his face as she squeezed them agains his hard, hot flesh. "An' th' thing is, master," she added as she began to move, enjoying the feel of him moving against her skin. "The hing is, Ah always provide satisfaction."

She crawled forward once more, sighing at the feel of his rigid dick and velvet head against her skin, stopped ng only when his length pressed against her hot, needy slit. "Y'all paid, master. Yah want yer whore ta ride that fat dick of yers, ride it till y'pump mah whore's cunt fulla cum? Or do y'all wanna roll me over an' use yer whore as yer li'l fuck toy?"

She leaned in, her breasts soft in his chest as she whispered in his ear. "Ah'm yer whore fer th' night, master. Use me however y'all want."
 
Erik gave a small, tired smile. "She'd have assumed we were anyway," he assured her, letting his eyelids fall closed. Dealing with his mother in any sort of tense situation always left him feeling drained. When Sam got up, however, he opened them curiously. "Hm?"

Sam locked the door then let the sheet fall to the floor as she came back to bed. He breathed in sharply as she started stroking his cock and she started talking about herself as though she were actually a whore. This was a delicious game...but after the events of the night his mother had been the straw to break the camel's back and he was just so tired. Then again, he had gotten her worked up, and it was hardly fair to let her deal with it alone. Erik's cock twitched between her breasts when she called him 'master;' she knew he loved that.

"Ride me," he breathed, grabbing her hips and moaning as he pulled her down and slid inside her hot, wet cunt. He rolled his hips, pressing himself deeper inside her as his thumb teased her clit.
 
Sam gave voice to a whimpering sigh of relief as Erik finally pushed up into her filling her. Throwing her head back she clenched diwn, delighting in the feel of his thick resistance to the grip of her muscles. "Fuck," she moaned, slowly stroking her hands iver her belly and cupping her breasts. "So... fucking... good..." His fingers and cock on her clit were delicious, and he filled her deep with every rolling thrust of his hips.

But then she caught his wrists, leaning forward to push them into the mattress. "But it ain't right fer y'all ta do the work, master," she whispered, licking her lips and squeezing his cock again. "Yer payin' after all." Flexing her legs, she rose up until just his head was in her then slid slowly down his shaft again, gasping and arching her back as she took him deep once more. "Yer payin', so let yer whire do th' work master."

She rode up him again, this time squeezing around him tightvas she did. "Such a thick, hard dick, master. Ah... Ah sure am lucky y'all... picked me. Kin... kin Ahm.. kin Ah feel yeh cum?" She stared diwn at him, fucking him with long, slow stokes that drew delighted sounds from her own throat with every thrust. "Or did y'all wanna... show me how... how a real man fucks... fucks his dirty little whore?"
 
God but he loved the way she called him 'master'! Erik wasn't usually one for a power trip, but the way she said it made his cock twitch in excitement every time. He bit his lip as Sam rose up, then came down and slowly sheathed him inside her once more. He groaned and pressed his head back into the mattress, reveling in the way her inner walls squeezed him tightly. He raised an eyebrow when she mentioned how a real man fucks a whore. He was tired, but he couldn't let that one slide. Without warning he grabbed her thighs before flipping them over and pinning her to the mattress.

"Trying to say I'm not a real man?" he demanded in a low growl. Erik pinned her arms down before slowly pressing his length into her once more. "What's a whore know about a real man? You've never been with a real man in all your life." His thrusts slowly picked up speed as he leaned over her, preventing her from moving while he fucked her. "A real man fucks a filthy whore like you until she can't walk straight." Erik grunted as he thrust into her more forcefully, concentrating on not cumming. "Until she begs to cum and screams his name." He leaned down and slid his tongue along her jaw before whispering in her ear, "Scream for me Samantha."
 
"Gawd," Sam moaned as Erik slammed into her. "Gawd... master... gawd, please... fuck me..."

Not all that long ago, during one of her therapy sessions, Sam had brought up her concerns about her sex life. Specifically, her worry that she liked when Erik was aggressive and dominant and rough. Because it tangled up with her own near-rape as a young girl and the women she'd worked with who had been raped to make her wonder if there was something wrong with her. It was a terrible crime, she knew, but did wanting to be physically dominated by Erik mean she wanted to be raped?

Anne Marie had smiled at that, and answered in her infuriating way: "What do you think?"

"Fuck! Erik!" her cries were a mewling plea for more and more of him. She spread legs wider, letting him push closer and deeper with each almost painfully-hard thrust, legs and back arching to meet him. "Fuck me! Erik, gawd please, fuck me hard! Harder!"

After an hour of talking, and more hours of thinking, the answer was simple. No, she didn't want to be raped. That was madness. She wanted Erik. More importantly, she trusted him. And, be honest here, she wasn't a gentle, delicate woman. So she trusted Erik enough to not just make love to her, but to fuck her brains out.

"Gawd, Erik! Master! Please! Please, fuck yer whore! Fuck me like yer filthy little whore!" She was clenching around him now, almost there, trying to scream for him and kiss him and press her body against him. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him, feel his back moving as he used her, and the way he held her wrists pinned to the bed just aroused her the more as she writhed and struggled beneath him. "Ah... Ah'm... Ah'm...oh, Gawd, Erik!" She screamed his name as she climaxed, body rigid beneath him as her walls clenched down on his cock and pulsed, greedily trying to draw the seed from him.


Shifting, Colin pulled one of his pillows over his head to muffle the sounds from across the hall. He was glad - well and truly he was - that Sam and Erik were turning into a happy couple. Clearly a very happy couple, from the way Sam was carrying on. But, for the love of God, it was nearly two in the morning! Couldn't they keep it down, just a little?
 
Erik ached. His cock was so hard it ached as he slammed into his lover and she cried out for him like a pleading whore. The muscles in his back and ass ached as he fucked her so hard that through no small feat the heavy wooden frame of the bed rocked so hard the posts thumped against the wall. Sam spread her legs wider and he ached to be deeper inside her.

"Fuck...Samantha!" he panted, tightening his grip on her wrists and pinning them more firmly to the mattress as she struggled beneath him. "Cum for me Samantha!" The Ranger ceased her pleading and could only scream as her walls clenched tightly around his cock. The way she held him, the way she screamed his name, was too much. "Fuck!" Erik ached as his body went rigid and he positively exploded inside of her, filling her womb with his seed over and over until he was completely spent. Panting, he slowly slid his shaft from inside her and collapsed next to her on the mattress, feeling wobbly all over.

"That was incredible!" he panted, wrapping his arm around her and shakily pulling her close. "Mein Gott!"

She'd told him about her experience as a child. It had been a long, emotional night for both of them but he was glad she'd told him; it gave him insight into who she was and how better to love her. Erik was aware that while Sam enjoyed love making she more enjoyed getting fucked, but since her revelation he was also careful to watch her for signs of going past enjoyment. She knew he would never intentionally hurt her or do something she didn't like, but he sometimes wasn't sure whether she would do something for him despite not enjoying it, and if that ever happened he wanted to stop it before she started feeling violated. God but she wore him out!

"You are so beautiful, meine Liebchen," Erik murmured, drawing his fingers down one of her sides to her thigh where his seed spilled out of her. They were often careful...but he'd have been lying if he claimed that he would be bothered if she did get pregnant. "Ich liebe dich."
 
Sam shuddered with the aftershocks of her orgasm and the violent thrill of Erik's body moving against her as he found his own release. Her arms and legs twined around him as he filled her, and she sighed happily at the sensation of his cum moving within her. "Gawd," she breathed happily. "Gawd Ah love you."

Erik sagged diwn on top of her, resting his weight upon her before he rolled to one side and held her close. His breath tickled her ear sas he told her she was beautiful, and she snuggled against him. "Y'all make ne feel beautiful, Erik," she whispered. She wasn't sure she believed it, but she believed he believed it. And that was good enough.

"Ich liebe dich," he murmured, stroking her inner thigh.

"Ah reckon y'all do," she laugheed, "choosing to deliberately misunderstand. "Y'all sore do love fuckin' dich..." Laughing, she rolled on her side and kissed him. "Nah, Ah'm jes' funnin' yeh. Ah know what y'all mean, an' Ah love y'all too."

Snuggling closer, she breathed in their mingled scents and listenened to his heart beat. "Reckon Ah..." she yawned, "Ah'll hafta... fix mah hair. Gotta look presentable fer yer folks." She yawned again, muzzily aware that - fir the sake of propriety - she should go back to her own room. But propriety could go hang, she decided. Erik was right here, and he was warm and solid and comfortable, and his arms felt so right around her, and it wasn't like they hadn't been sharing a bed at home anyway.

With that happy thought, she drifted off to sleep.
 
Sam chose to deliberately misunderstand him, but Erik still couldn't help but wince at her butchering of both English and German simultaneously. "You're lucky we were interrupted," he said, "or I would tan your hide for butchering spoken language so." He grinned and kissed her back, figuring that if she was learning his language the least he could do was learn some of her colloquialisms.

"My parents?" Erik yawned back, pulling a blanket over them. "They won't bother us tonight. Do your hair in the morning." But she was already asleep and he was very nearly there himself.

In the morning he felt much less at ease about the whole thing. Already his mother had a terrible first impression of Sam. What if she still didn't like her after actually getting to know her? Erik pulled a comb through his hair and straightened his shirt before offering his arm to the Ranger.

"Ready?" He wasn't. With a deep breath he opened the door and led her downstairs to the formal dining room for breakfast. His parents were already there and had already been served coffee. Erik knew she hated it, but he pulled out Sam's chair for her anyway and waited for her to sit; it was expected of him. "Guten Morgen," he said conversationally. "Mother, Father this is Miss Samantha Cavendish of Tejas. We've been seeing each other for two or three months now." He smiled tightly and sat, ringing a small bell at the table for coffee while is mother turned a critical eye to the new woman in her son's life.

"Frauline Cavendish," she said evenly. "How delightful to finally meet you, and with your clothes on, even."

"Mutter!"

Frau Heinz-Schmidt merely raised her eyebrows mildly. "So propriety is now something we don't talk about in mixed company?" she challenged without raising her voice. "Strange times we live in. Strange times indeed." Coffee was brought and breakfast was served--a large spread of meats, cheeses, and breads--and Frau Heinz-Schmidt considered Sam over the rim of her glasses as she spread marmalade on her toast. "So Frauline Cavendish," she said at last, "how did you and my son meet?"

Erik shook his head ever so slightly at Sam. His parents didn't know about the Meridian Society--it was a secret society, after all--so hopefully she would have the presence of mind to just say "work." Mentally he kicked himself for not working out a story with her beforehand.
 
The only problem with having slept in Erik's room, Sam decided, was having a room of her own. Where her clothes were. That'd have to change, because haviing to wrap herself in a blanket to go get dressed without flashing the household was ridiculous. Especially since the Professor was stepping out of his own rooms as she emerged frim Erik's door. They stared at each other for a moment, and she clenched a fist. Let him say one word...

"Good morning, Samantha. I trust you sleot well?"

"Uh... yeah."

"Excellent." He paused. "Madame La Monte and I will be dining out for breakfast. You and Erik are welcome to join us."

"Uh... that's nice an' all," Sam said. "But Erik's folks done got in last night, an', well..."

"Say no more Samantha. I'll pay my respects to them before we leave, then." He smiled faintly. "A good morning to you, then."

Sam's thoughts raced as she entered her own room. Anne Marie... and the Professor? But that was... that was... That actually made sense, she realized as certain behaviors suddenly fit together. But, hell, did they even realize? No, probably not.

"Well, shee-it," she breathed. "How'm Ah supposed ta play matchmaker, when Ah barely know whut Ah'm doin' meself?"


Sam already didn't like Erik's mom. His daddy seemed fine, if a mite quiet, but his ma? The word that came to mind was "snooty cunt", which was actually two words but no never mind. And it was worse because she'd tried to make a good impression. Dug out her skirt, black wool that hung below her knees and a matching vest over a white blouse. She'd even put on a little make-up.

"Erik an' Ah met at work," she said, finally trying to make nice. "We..."

"And just what sort of... work do you do. Miss Cavendish?" The woman's voice was cold.

Bitch.

"Why..." Sam smiled, equally cold. "Ah'm a Tejas Ranger, on assignment wit' an agency that coordinates intelligence sharin' between nations, wit' an eye towards tryin' ta prevent another war from breakin' out." Which was true enough, as far as it went. "Erik an' Ah share an' office."

Sort of.

"So you're his secretary?"

Bitch.
 
"No, Mutter, she is not my secretary," Erik said with an air of forced patience, cutting up a sausage before scooping it up with a piece of cheese. "She is my partner. My colleague."

"So they send women to do that sort of work, do they?" Frau Heinz-Schmidt said mildly. "I'd heard they were different over there, but clearly they haven't heard of propriety."

"So what sort of work do you normally do when not on international assignment, Frauline Cavendish?" Erik's father interrupted. "As a Ranger, I mean. I'd heard they were sort-of like the police there, but then I also heard they'd sent a detachment during the war so I imagine 'police' isn't quite the right comparison. Er...were you in the war, Frauline?" he added politely over the rim of his coffee cup. Joseph's wife glared at him, but his son gave him a grateful look of relief. It was good to have someone on his side.
 
"Ah don't know about propriety," Sam replied tartly. "Ah jes' know that they ain't afraid ta let th' best handle matters. An' ya ain't gotta have a..."

Erik's father decided to try and change the subject at that moment, and Sam was happy to go along with that. "Naw, Ah ain't a soljer. Ah'm a Ranger, which is a mite like yer Feldgendarmerie or th' Yankee Federal Bureau o' Investigation. We supplement local law enforcement, an' we enforce the law where there ain't no local sherrif." She smiked cheerily. "Un motin, un Guardaparques, as we like ta say."

Erik's ma focused on her breakfast, and his dad nodded slowly. "It sounds quite dangerous."

"Nah," Sam snorted. "Borin' more like. Lots o' ridin' cross-country, mostky ta escirt a witness or prisoner or check yer turn. Ah kin count on me hand tg' number o' times Ah've actually been shot."

"You've been shot[/iz]?" Erik's ma gasped.

"Yep." It actually bothered more than she was letting on, having come that close to death. But she'd be hanged if she'd admit that. "Right in th'..."

"So," Erik's pa interruoted. "How long have you two been seeing one another?"
 
Work. Work was a good topic. Sam was more than happy to talk about her job as a Ranger and his father was more than happy to listen. Erik could see the judgement in his mother's eyes at the way she talked, but he couldn't care less and that was what mattered. Sam mentioned getting shot, however, and Erik almost groaned aloud. His father wasn't quite the traditionalist his mother was, but even that was probably enough to shock him. Fortunately the presence of mind not to show it and to redirect the topic again.

"About two months or so," Erik answered quickly with a grateful look. "Well, we began a correspondence outside of work before that. But if you wanted to call anything official I would call it two months."

"And this is the first we're hearing about it?" Anna said, with much more behind it implied. "I wonder why."

Colin and Kieran rounded the corner to enter the dining room but halted just short of the doorway upon hearing voices. The pirate nudged the door open a crack with his toe and, seeing the situation, exchanged a look with Colin before turning on his heel and walking out the front door. Bugger that mess!

"Perhaps because I'm an adult?" Erik suggested just as mildly, sipping his coffee. "And my comings and goings are generally my own concern?" If she was going to be stubborn about it, two could play at that game. "I'm a private person, Mother, you know that."
 
"Also been a busy coupla months," Sam added, trying to help. "Work done got..."

"So busy that you couldn't find time to write a letter?" Anna interrupted, addressing Erik. "I know you value your privacy, but we are your parents. Perhaps we care about you enough to want to know you are..." she glanced sideways at Sam, "dating."

"Ain't hardly had th' time," Sam tried again, gamely. "The Professor - our boss, Ah mean, Doctor Swift - is a real ball..." She swallowed the rest of the line with an effort. "A real slave dr..."

"Gertrude paid us a visit on Monday," Anna interrupted, ignoring Sam completely. "She asked after you. It would have been nice to be able to tell her your news."
 
Sam was trying to help, she really was. But it seemed like every time she said something she accidentally made things worse. Erik was about to step in and help her with the turn of phrase she was looking for when his mother interrupted. Again. He could feel his temper beginning to rise but took a few deep breaths to try and quell it.

"Well I always find it much better to hear someone's news from that person themselves," he countered easily, "and fortunately we both happened to be at the Chancellor's party last night. She seemed to get on with Sam quite famously." Not technically a lie, since they'd both been playing nice and a complete idiot might have thought that they were actually being pleasant to one another. This, however, seemed to actually alarm his mother.

"You were at that party last night?" she asked, trying to sound calm. "I heard there were some dreadful things which happened. A Soviet invasion or something?"

"Nothing of the sort," Erik said dismissively, spreading marmalade on his toast. He was just happy to get the topic away from their relationship. "Communists, certainly, but not Soviets. But that is what my unit does, Mother. We neutralize threats like that. Unfortunately there were a few casualties, but considering their plan was global domination and, unchecked, they could have easily achieved it I think we managed the best possible outcome. Samantha was brilliant at diversionary tactics while we waited for backup; even I was fooled!" He grinned at Sam before taking a bite of his toast, trying to casually bring her back into the conversation without attracting his mothers ire and scrutiny again.
 
Anna gave Sam a sour, haughty look. "And what sort of... distraction was she?"

Sam narrowed her eyes, not liking the implication. "Oh, that? Well, Ah got mahself shot in th' belly wit' a burner."

Anna blinked. "That, I mean, whatever do you mean?"

"One o' them heat rays, a Webley 400 Special, set on minimum power an' wide spread." She sipped her coffee and nodded approval. Erik's folks had excellent taste. Most likely his dad chose the blend. "Like th' worst sunburn Ah ever had. Hurt a lot, but not cripplin'." Anither kick. "Jes' gave me a whole parcel o' mean ta take out on th' bad guts."

Anna was looking scandalized, now. "I don't think this is..."

"Shucks," Sam continued. "Twerm't even th' worst Ah ever been hurt. Git six inches o' steel in mah gut once,an' Ah still beat th' stupid outa the guy what done it."

"I would be delighted to hear more about yiur adventures, Samantha," Joseph interrupted. "May I call you Samantha?"

"Ah'd be delighted, Herr Schmidt," Sam replied with a genuine smile.

"Then you must call me Joseph. I insist." He beaned at his son's... lover, he guessed was the right word. "And it would be a delight to hear more of your adventures, but surely not at breakfast?"

"Nah, yer right," Sam agreed, recognizing the request to change the subject. "Ah jes' got carried away."

"Yes, I noticed," Joseph remarked, eyes flicking from Sam to Anna and back. "Will you and Erik be staying much longer in Berlin? The holudays are approaching after all, and..."

"Holidays?" Sam sounded confused now. "It's nearly two months ta Christmas."
 
Erik clenched his jaw, also disliking his mother's tone. Sam explained that she'd gotten shot and he nodded proudly. "Two of our colleagues had to pretend to betray us, one of them shot her. If she hadn't been on fire I think I would have shot him back."

But Sam continued, talking about the time she'd been stabbed, and he gently squeezed her thigh under the table. That might even be pushing things for his father, who was generally a more understanding man. He surprised his son by claiming to want to hear more about her adventures, then gently steered the conversation away from violence. When Sam grew confused about the holidays Erik smiled and patted her leg. He opened his mouth to explain but his mother arched an eyebrow.

"You mean, you are a Gentile?" she asked acidly.

"Baptist, Mother," Erik answered as though they were simply talking about the weather. He looked at her mildly though his eyes burned, daring her to say even the smallest thing about it. "I've taught her a little of our religion and culture, but it's a lot to learn. It's nearly two months to Christmas, Schatze," he continued, looking at Sam as though his mother had never spoken, "but it is less than a month to Hanukkah. You won't find this in your Old Testament because it isn't important to Christians, but it's an important piece of our history. In Biblical times there was a revolt against a king who had outlawed Judaism and ordered the Great Temple in Jerusalem to be used for sacrifices to Zeus. After the revolt succeeded there was a rededication of the Temple, but the law requires the menorah burn all day and night with unadulterated, unfiltered olive oil with the seal of the kohen gadol--the high priest--but there was only enough oil in the flask for it to burn for one day. By a miracle of God, the oil burned for eight days and nights, which was enough time to prepare a fresh supply of kosher oil."

"And the Gentiles don't consider this miracle to be important," Anna snorted.

"Mother!" Erik openly glared this time before taking a deep breath and trying to turn her back out of the conversation by addressing his father. "I'll have to check with Professor Swift if we need to do any follow-up, but I don't see any reason why we can't be here. Liebchen?" He looked at Sam. If she wasn't comfortable celebrating Hanukkah with them he wasn't going to force the issue.
 
"You mean, you are a Gentile?" Anna asked acidly.

"Nah," Sam responded, slightly confused. "Ah mean, Ah ain't always rough an' tumble mind. But ain't no-one accused me o' bein gentle..."

But then Erik jumped in, and it became quickly apparent that 'gentile' was another way of saying 'not a Jew'. Which, fair enough, she wasn't. But then, Erik started explaining what this Hanukkah thing was. So Sam listened, filing the information away for future use. "Ah don' get it," she said, when he finished. "Why wouldn't that be in th' Bible. Sure do sound like a bona fide miracle to me."

Or a coupla priests bucking up the populace, she thought. But she kept that thought to herself. "But yeah, if'n th' Society kin spare us fer a month, Ah'd - we'd - love to. If'n it ain't no trouble fer y'all, that is."

"That..." Anna began darkly.

"Would be delightful!" Joseph finished, gripping his wife's hand and beaming. "Wouldn't it, dear?" The last was said pointedly, and Anna seemed to deflate a little.

"Yes," she sighed. "It would."

"An' Erik kin fill me in on th' holiday," Sam added, trying to extend an olive branch. "So's Ah don' go askin' no stupid or embarrasin' questions."
 
"Oh I think it's a little late for that," Anna said lightly with a nasty smile before taking a sip of coffee.

"It's never too late for questions!" Joseph intervened, deliberately misunderstanding his wife. "And there are no such things as stupid questions, Samantha. Curiosity about the world around you is a trait to be nurtured! We have never discouraged any form of learning in this house, have we my dove?" He turned his smile to Anna and squeezed her hand. Her lip curled into a grimace.

"Of course not," she answered tacitly.

"There, you see?" He turned his grin back to the young couple. "Ask away until your heat's content. Erik, do you have any work business to go about this morning?" He tilted his head slightly and Erik recognized it. He was giving them an out.

"I'm afraid I do, actually," he answered with a brief but grateful look. Under the table he squeezed Sam's thigh gently again. "Or, rather, we do. Professor Swift needs to debrief us after last night's...well, mission for a better word. It makes it all sound so cloak-and-dagger but really it's mostly paperwork." Of course, society work was cloak-and-dagger but his parents needn't know that. "So if you'll excuse us..."

"Of course, of course!" Joseph rose when Sam did and made a short little bow. "See you at supper then?"

"Work permitting." Erik smiled gratefully and shook his father's hand before kissing his mother's cheek and leading Sam quickly out of the room and through the front door. He'd said he had to meet Professor Swift; it would have been strange if they'd stayed in the house. "Samantha I'm so sorry about her," he groaned as soon as they were in the street. Offering his arm, he led her down the straße, looking properly mortified at his mother's behavior. "She's always been rather...uptight. But I don't know why she took a particular disliking."
 
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Over the Caribbean Sea
April 4, 1919

Sam wretched again, gripping onto the railing for dear life as she heaved up the contents of her stomach. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her forehead on the railing. Not so much for the support, although that was nice, but so she didn't have to watch the vomit plummet towards the distant sea. She'd never thought she was afraid of heights before, but she'd never been two miles up on an aeronaval ship before. "Oh, Gawd," she groaned, hawking and spitting in a vain attempt to clear the taste of bile.

Colin's ship, the HMS Peregrine was a fast ship, and comfortable for a warship. They'd been aboard for a week, and expected to make port in New Orleans tomorrow around noon. It would have been faster, Colin had explained, if they could have simply flown in a straight line, but neither the United States nor the Confederate States were in a mood to allow a foreign warship access to their airspace. So they'd had to make for the Bahamas first, then cut northwest towards the Mississippi delta.

She'd been excited, at first. The only real flying she'd ever done before had been in the stolen aerial screw, and she'd been hurting a bit too much to appreciate that trip. Better, New Orleans was the closest she'd been to home in three years, and she figured she could take a little time and take Erik to Juarez to meet her father after they were done here. But then, the first morning after they'd left port, she'd spent the morning puking. By afternoon she'd thought she'd found her 'sky legs', only for the nausea to return. Every morning after that had become a ritual. Wake up. Get dressed. Maybe manage to eat breakfast. Sprint for the nearest toilet or side of the ship. Vomit.

By now, Erik had it down to a science as well. She accepted the glass of water he offered her with a queasy smile, rinsed her mouth out and spat over the side once more, then took the mug of tea he had in his other hand. "Yer a life saver, love," she grinned as the strong, sweet brew burned through the foul aftertaste. "An' Ah cain't wait ta get offa this thing." She handed him back the mug and held her hand over her mouth as her stomach rebelled for a moment, then took it back as things settled down. "It's..."


"...tomorrow, correct?" Professor Swift asked. "We are still on schedule?"

Colin, wearing his uniform and looking every inch a Captain Drake of His Majesty's Royal Aeronavy, looked up from the navigational charts. "Actually," he said, tapping a stylus on the paper, "the lastest sightings put us slightly ahead of schedule. We'll be descending into Lake Pontchartrain tomorrow by ten in the morning, assuming that we have no difficulties with the Confederate patrols."

"Do you see that as being likely?" the Professor asked.

"Hardly." Colin rolled his chart and stowed it back in its rack. "We've ethered ahead, and our flight plan was filed before we left London. Since we're bringing embassy staff, it will be a mere formality."

"Good." The Professor didn't relax. "I only wish that the Sir Neville had been able to be more explicit about his concerns. I dislike entering a situation blind."

Colin shrugged. "I'm sure the ambassador had his reasons, Professor. No doubt, we'll get a full briefing. My only concern is Sam."

The Professor nodded. "Yes. I can't imagine a Mexican Ranger..."

"Tejas Ranger," Colin corrected with a smile.

The Professor waved him off. "It hardly matters. Whether she's a member of the Society or not, the Confederate authorities won't be pleased to see her."
 
Erik gave her a pitying look as she once again heaved over the side of the ship. He held her mug as she tried to hold back another bout of vomiting then handed it back to her. Easily he leaned on the railing and pulled her back to his chest so that she faced the deck rather than the sky and, wrapping an arm around her waist, rubbed little circles over her stomach.

"Tomorrow you'll have both feet back on the ground," he assured her. "I'm sure Professor Swift will allow you a few hours to rest and get your stomach back, then you'll be back to your old self and just as deadly. Not that you're not deadly now," he added, kissing her temple. "But you can be deadly without erbrechen on the bad guys." He smiled weakly, but his eyes showed concern. She hadn't managed to keep anything down for days and he was worried for her health.

~*~

The Bhean Urchóidigh--known more popularly as the Wicked Wench to those not blessed with the Gaelic tongue--had been docked for two days and Kieran was growing restless. He'd refused to travel on Colin's ship since he had his own perfectly fine vessel and his men were due for a bit of shore leave anyway. Besides, things had been growing a bit...serious with Colin recently and he didn't like it. Not in the least. In fact he'd made a point of sampling what the city had to offer before Colin arrived, which had made him feel a little better. It wasn't like they'd ever talked about having a committed relationship, after all, and what Colin didn't know wouldn't hurt him. And if he ever did find out--unlikely--then who could blame Kieran? How was he supposed to know--

"Captain," the first mate interrupted his thoughts and Kieran looked away from the distant swamp at which he'd been absently staring. "The Peregrine's been spotted nearing New Orleans harbor. Orders?"

Kieran stroked his chin for a moment, noting absently that he needed to shave. "Shore leave," he said at last. When the first mate looked surprised he waved a dismissive hand. "The captain of the Peregrine and I have unfinished business. I'd like to take care of him myself. Until my business is concluded, give the men some time on land. It's been a while."

"Aye, captain."

~*~

"And what is a Mexican Ranger doing so far from home?" The man's eyes narrowed as he looked suspiciously from Sam's papers to Sam. "Have you orders?"

"Orders? She's here on my orders!" barked an official-looking man as he came striding down the high dock. "You're to let her through, Lafayette, and anyone she may travel with."

"Yes, sir," the stunned Lafayette said, grudgingly standing aside to let the others through. Anne Marie muttered a brief merci as they passed, but exchanged a look with Professor Swift.

"Thank you, Charles." Kieran smiled and slipped the official a few coins with a charming wink as he led his friends to where the pirate waited. "I think that calls us square. For now, anyway." He was discreet about eyeing Charles's rear as he walked away, then straightened and looked at the others. "'Bout bloody time. Told you my ship would've been better. I know all sorts of port officials who owe me favors."
 
"Funny thing is," Sam commented, examining her necklace, "Ah weren't even wearin' mah star or nuthin'. Jes' this." Examining the golden Mogen David for a moment, she tucked it back into her shirt. "Didn't notice it'd slipped out. Ah don't rightly reckon he'd even have asked fer mah papers wit'out it." Settling back into the carriage seat, she kissed Erik on the cheek. "Now don't you fret, none. Ah love it, an' Ah ain't takin' it off cause no damn Cassie's got a problem wit' Mexico."

Colin looked confused at that. "Cassie?"

"One o' these here Confederatex. It's how you pronounce See-Ess-Ay, ain't it?" She stared out the window. "Sure is purdy, here. Always did lime th' Big Easy, th' times Ah visited. Bit less... stuck up, Ah guess, than the resta th' country."

The carruage rolled smoothly on the rails laid in the streets, pulled by a team of four horses. Unlike the European powers, or the United Stares or Mexico, the Confederate States lacked the industrial base to mass produce advanced machinery for the civilian market, and tobacco and cotton and sugar weren't producing enough revenue to make imports cheap. As a result, much of New Orleans looked much the same as it did before the Martian invasion.

If you ignored the heat ray towers, emplaced for aerial and naval defense. And the airship station-keeping overhead. And the distant sight of a military tripod. The Confederates had not, after all, lagged behind in the arms race. Not by much, anyway.

"So," she asked, stretching her legs out. "Where is the British embassy, anyway? An' ee got any idea what they want us fer?"
 
Erik opened his mouth to point out that her association with Mexico might not have been the reason for getting stopped, but when Colin said something first he decided to leave it be. "A series of murders, I believe," he said, polishing his pinc nez. "A serial killer?"

"Mais non," Anne Marie said, looking through the dossier. "The killings are organized, but they appear to be more occult-like in nature. Victims have all been white women in their early- to mid-twenties, often found with occult symbols drawn in chicken blood."

"Voodoo?" Kieran asked, frowning.

"Voodoo doesn't have human sacrifice components to my knowledge," Erik said.

Anne Marie shrugged. "Voodoo seems to be the leading theory at the embassy, by the tone of the paperwork."
 
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