Chapter 12 You Can’t Keep a Dead Man Down!
The kitchen was warm and lively. They had wiped the kiddos down with what Jon had made earlier. Gretta had indeed stopped rubbing her eyes and was mostly green-goo free from eyes and nose. Once the other two kiddos were pretreated, they had stopped rubbing their eyes as well.
“Not bad,” Ellen smiled to herself as she drank her tonic. For a group with pinkeye, they were chatty and hungry.
Gilly, she decided could run her kitchen for the rest of his days. This man liked to cook. Okay, so he fucked dragons…and maybe a few other questionable…things… she grimaced, but that was now in his past…and she could see his future in her kitchen. To go along with the oatmeal, he had made little individual chocolate soufflés. They were to be eaten first, while the oatmeal sat on top of the stove and became extra creamy, just the way Sara liked it.
“Damn,” Ellen sighed to herself. “Every day should start with a little something hot and chocolate. I wonder if he does pots d’ crème? We could end the day with something cold and chocolate.” Yummy noises were made while the smallish bit of sweet was consumed with fresh strawberries. Then came the oatmeal. “Damn,” she sighed again, “extra creamy is lovely with brown sugar and walnuts and a strawberry or two!”
Looking around the table, breakfast was going fairly well, considering Gretta had stopped banging the spoon to something that sounded oddly like The 1812 Overture and was feeding herself with her hands; Willy, closely watching his uncle, had mastered the art of sticking the spoon to his nose and would get a little crossed-eyed trying to see; Sara was joyful that her daddy was home and every few minutes she would say, “I love you Daddy! I am so happy you are home!” as she would blissfully eat her oatmeal; every time the oldest daughter said that, Jody joyfully kicked Gilly in the shins, causing him to give a pained smiled as each time he told her, “My darling daughter, it is good to be home,” and Jody would kick him again.
Time to shift her focus. Jon was presently at the kitchen sink mixing up some type of potion looking entirely too-o-o-o happy! Occasionally he chimed into the conversation, but Ellen thought he was probably mumbling incantations and the secret passwords that would get you into the doctor’s lounge and toilet while he chopped, measured, and said a blessing over the ancient scale, he would look at her and repeat ancient scale that uses weights that he was using to weigh his dry ingredients.
“There are such things as electronic scales. You can buy them anywhere. Very accurate,” he stressed. “With ancient scales, this is how zombies get made,” he said at one point as he waited for the scale to balance. While she was still smirking, he turned and focused on her. “When was the last time you had this calibrated?”
“Calibrated?” she snorted. “The last time that happened…there are several little metal tags on it. The latest says 3 12 50.”
Looking aghast, Jon clutched his hand to his forehead. “That would be the 12th of December, 1950. Zombies,” he sadly shook his head and sighed deeply. “I fear I am going to be making zombies.”
Breakfast came to a close at the same time as Jon’s adventure in zombie making.
The kitchen was cleaned up and everyone moved into the living room.
“There are toys in the attic,” Ellen said to Jody. “Age appropriate. I think it is time to get some down.”
“Show me where,” she smiled, “and I’ll take Gill to bring them down.”
“Just take the stairs to the top,” she smiled. “On the far back wall. I labeled the bins: Random’s Things along with the suitable age. I thought maybe one day there would be a grand baby,” she smiled wistfully. “Instead I have nieces and a nephew. That works,” she nodded her head.
Jody squeezed her hand and then looking at her husband said, “You’ll do. Let’s go.”
The children all had their lovies and had settled around their dad on the couch. He had brought down a crate of books and had pulled several to read.
Ellen and Jody had settled into chairs off to the left of the fire. Jon sat at Ellen’s feet.
“You are going to your brother’s wake?” Jody asked.
“Yes,” Jon replied. “Ellen is going with me.”
“How did he die,” she asked.
Gilly was still reading but his attention had diverted just a bit, a questioning look on his face and a lot of eagerness.
Jon laughed and replied. “That is Ellen’s story to tell.”
Jody’s attention shifted to her sister-in-law.
“Reggie had broken into my home one day and had removed the firing pins from my rifles. So I was very unhappy with him to start with.
Then, very early one morning, when I walked into the living room, he was threatening Jon. I shot him in the back of a head with a silver bullet.”
There was a hoot of laughter from Gilly and all the children laughed along with him while they all applauded.
“Take that to heart,” Jody faced her husband. “Jon offered to do the same thing for me to you.”
The smirk was gone and the father to three small children was once more deeply engrossed in reading The Cat in the Hat.
“He came in your house…” Jody shivered a bit and returned to the conversation. “How do you know that?”
“Gut feeling,” she responded. “Plus, the crows told me.”
Nodding her head, Jody filed that away for another time. In the room was a serial killer fairy, vampire, and the human talked to crows and probably a few other things as calm as she was about this. Not your normal in-laws but it sounded like they had white trash relatives as well. This could work. Her focus was back on her husband. “Know wonder Gill worried,” her voice caught. “He, he does not have to go to the wake…?” There was deep concern for her husband on her face.
“No,” Jon replied. “His children are ill and he needs to be home. However…” that word hung on the air. “If he wants to know who is father is, he will need to be present so that Ellen can compare their auras.”
Gilly got up and carrying the baby, he handed Gretta to his wife and laying his head on her lap, he said softly. “I would not leave you.” Raising his head, his eyes met hers. “I will never leave you to face your fears by yourself, again.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as she ran her hand down his cheek. “But if you could know who your father is…” she ran her hand through his hair. “You would have peace of mind about that.”
When he smiled at her, she pinched him.
“Ouch,” he rubbed his shoulder.
“Oh,” she arched an eyebrow at him, “you are still out in deep water.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” was all he said as he raised her hand for a kiss.
“I expect you will,” she eyed him and handed back the baby. “Now, I believe we grown-ups are talking and you have the children.”
The adult conversions continued and there was a pillow fort going up beside the couch.
“He’s wonderful with the children,” Ellen said smiling as Gill was on his stomach on the floor and swam the kids across the moat.
“Yes, he really is,” she smiled. “He likes playing with them…” Jody’s voice trailed off. “He did not…” her voice caught… “as a child…”
“No,” Jon shook his head.
“His mother,” she fought back the tears, her face contorted with sorrow, “can you kill that evil bitch for me?” she whispered.
“With pleasure,” Jon smiled.
Wiping her eyes, Jody nodded her thanks.
“Now, what do you want to do?” Ellen asked him. “We are leaving…? She quizzed Jon.
“Hm-m-m, are you a good sailor?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded. “As a rule. Charles liked to sail the Chesapeake when we lived in D.C. I’ve been out in ocean going vessels to whale watch and that sort of thing. A cruise ship or two.”
“I’ll walk you across the universe, but the first couple of times can make you a bit seasick. I’ll get you a patch to wear, just in case. I have a suite at the Lanesborough in London and we will be staying there.
So I think we could leave whenever you are ready, check in, do a bit of shopping for the wake and attend the next day.”
“Gill needs to go,” Jody was watching her husband as he was taking turns helping the children to color.
Nodding to her, Jon turned to him and said, “Gilly, your wife believes and I concur that you will need to at least be present for a bit, maybe an hour, the day of the wake; say your good-byes and Ellen can check to see who your father is.
She will be doing the same for me. She tends to think I am a Halfling and that Jonarad is my father.”
Gilly drew back in amazement. “So, Joniad would be your sister…” his voice trailed off, his thoughts elsewhere. “You know, that makes sense.
And you think that one of Father’s brothers is my actual father?”
“Yes. But Ellen should be able to confirm that once she has eyes on you and everyone else.”
“May I ask how?” Jody’s voice chimed in.
“She reads auras,” was his answer.
“Yes,” Ellen nodded to Gill. “There are not enough color markers between the two of you to say brothers. More like uncle and nephew.”
“Oh…” Jody and Gilly said at the same time as Jody sat back into her chair. “And our children?” she asked.
“An equal mix of the two of you,” Ellen smiled.
“Now, I do not want Jody to worry,” Jon continued. “Gilly, if you walk the King’s bridge and you should be gone about an hour all total and we will push that to make it less.
Then we will see who makes their move to kill us. We shall splatter them across the universe and then return home.”
“Are they going to have a reason too?” the youngest brother asked as he looked up from the coloring book.
“Just being prudent,” Jon replied. “Right now, I have no intentions of telling them how Reginald died. I am going to let him do that. Of course, that could change, especially when Mother gets mouthy. Orlaith should not even come up in the conversation.
If anyone asks,” he smiled charmingly at his brother, “you are my new accountant and we are joined at the hip.”
“And am I your new accountant?” Gilly asked in wonder.
“Welcome to the House of Irving,” Jon smiled and batted his eyelashes, “Gillmore Irving.”
“Thank you,” Gill smiled in return. “Thank you,” he said bowing his head. “Thank you,” he brushed the tears from his eyes and handed Sara a purple crayon.
“While we are gone,” Ellen was wondering what she had just missed as Gilly looked absurdly pleased and was grinning like an idiot. “You are more than welcome to stay here,” she said to Jody. “The crows will sound a warning if someone of poor moral character or evil repute wants to come to the door. I can show you where I keep the pistol and the silver bullets.”
“Oh…!” Jody sat up in her chair.
“Oh! Most good,” Gilly chimed in. “It really leaves no mess. A small whirlwind picks up the body and the residue and returns them to whoever sent them.”
“Oh-h-h-h,” her eyes got wide.
“You are doing just fine,” Ellen smiled at her.
Nodding her head, perhaps in agreement, Jody smiled at her. “You sure you don’t mind. Your home is so lovely,” she added looking around. “Our three can get pretty boisterous.”
“Well, it’s not child proof,” Ellen was thoughtful. “There is a box in the attic full of those things as well. For the outlets and such. I am sure Gill could install them, today.
But you can stay here until you can get some crows of your own. I’ll talk to Clive, see what he thinks.”
“Clive?” Jody’s voice was full of hesitation.
“King of the Crows, or at least that is what I call him. He will be helpful.”
“Well, he may not need to go far,” Jon smiled at Jody. “There is a house for sale on the street. Natural stone Tudor. Looks big enough to handle a growing family and maybe a grand piano.”
“Has a great front porch,” Ellen sighed. “It even has a fireplace. Let’s bundle up and walk down and take a look,” she said standing. “Fresh air sounds lovely. Plus, it will introduce you to the neighborhood crows.”
As they walked along, Sara liked to talk to the crows as well. She was holding Ellen’s hand while she watched with delight as they would land a few feet in front of her and laugh and chatter before they would take flight.
Jon was carrying Willy who was curious about everything he saw and sometimes wanted to be carried and sometimes wanted to walk.
Gilly was carrying the baby. Gretta was looking about and smiling at everyone and everything. He had his other arm around Jody.
“That’s a nice house, Gill,” she said as she looked around the neighbor. “Very nice. This is all very lovely,” she murmured as she admired the almost one hundred year old homes. Their yards with towering pecan trees and maples, bare for the winter but majestic just the same.
You really are a rich bastard,” she stopped walking and turned to face him.
“Yes to rich and also to bastard,” he replied. “Jody, if you want the house, just say so. Or if you want something bigger, just tell me.”
“Bigger?” she mumbled. “Gill, this is one of those neighborhoods that you just dream about living in.”
“Do you want to see the inside?” he asked, his voice earnest.
“Well yes,” and there was a bit of hysterical laughter coming from her.
“Most good,” he smiled at her. “I have the estate agent’s number. We’ll give them a call as soon as we get back to the house.”
“Here we are,” Ellen smiled down at Sara. “Home again. Let’s put out some food for the crows. Miss Sara, if you would ring the crow bell, they will know that lunch has been served.”
Over lunch plans were made, the kitchen was cleaned and small children laid down in front of the fire for a nap.
“Gilly, I will let you know when to walk across,” Jon nodded to his brother as he pricked his finger with a fang and holding it out, Gill put it in his mouth and sucked.
“Walk on past The Rosy. Turn right at the glowing pink star,” Jon said. “Then concentrate on your house in London.”
“Got it,” he nodded.
“If you get lost, just give a shout out and I will come and get you. But this is no different then walking the alleyways home. Just a more direct route.”
“Perfect,” the youngest brother smiled.
“Good. Ellen and I will be leaving shortly.”
“If you want to stay,” she looked at the couple who seemed to be relieved that the invitation still held, “in the laundry room on the shelf is a set of screw drivers and also an electric screw driver that is plugged into the wall. Help yourself to the baby proofing.”
When they walked into the suite in London, Ellen understood about what Jon meant by being seasick. She was wearing an anti-nausea patch, which was a good thing. Nothing prepared you for all that vast emptiness of space with the vibrant colors flashing past you.
“Feel like shopping?” Jon asked her. “I know one or two places that will stay open late for us.”
“Perfect,” she smiled. “Give me about thirty minutes to let my brain catch up with my senses, a cup of tea, and I will be ready to go.”
“Excellent plan,” he kissed her lightly on the mouth. “You rest and I will make some phone calls. Tomorrow at three we shall have the viewing. Mother will host a brunch, I am sure, and there shall be plenty of alcohol and the talking of trash. The party starts, of course, when we arrive.”
Malcolm House, where the viewing was to take place was in Hyde Park. So was Gilly’s residence. At two-forty five the next day, Jon and Ellen arrived, collected the youngest brother and was on their way. Promptly at three, they were ringing the doorbell at the Malcolm manse.
With pomp and circumstance they were ushered in and announced and the procession began…
Gilly was walking in front of his king and queen announcing their arrival as a sextet of strings played along with just as many French horns…
The first thing Ellen noted was that Reginald was laying-in-state in what had to be the library. The room was about two hundred feet long, with the sides lined with books that went to the ceiling and people that went to their knees when they passed by. At the back was a glass wall, which opened up to a conservatory, and that was where Reggie was spending his final earth bound moments.
The next thing she noted was that everyone was wearing either black or white. Jon was right. They did indeed look like chess pieces. Especially on the black and white tile squares.
Ellen was doing her very best not to laugh out loud as she was gapped at and “Drust…” was echoed through out the crowd. Folks were literally pointing their fingers and taking a step back as they peeked out from the farther down the line. One or two, she thought, fainted, just to prove their point. Jon had nudged her in the ribs more than once. “Don’t you dare laugh,” he whispered at her. “If you start, I will not be able to stop,” he managed to say with a straight face.
Tall brass candlesticks surrounded Malcolm’s body. As they got closer, she could feel the heat being pushed out into what was otherwise a very cold room.
His body rested upon a highly carved, four-poster, wooden catafalque, draped in black velvet with the body in white. As Ellen got closer, chains were run though silver rings at the top of the four-poster. From these were suspended bells.
There were three people kneeling in front of the body. One would have to be Malcolm, who was not Gilly’s father, according to the auras. Next to him was Joniad, the evil bitch from Hell, that was not Jon’s mother, according to the auras. And beside her was Jonarad, the patriarch of the family, who was sure ‘nuff, Jon’s father, according to the auras.
Looking to the left of the bereft kinsfolk, there stood Malcolm’s three brothers. The brother closest to Malcolm was indeed, Gilly’s father. When she smothered a smirk, Jon looked at her and she rolled her eyes. “As we thought,” was all she said. She felt his arm tighten beneath her hand as he placed his other hand on top of hers.
Before they reached Reginald, the family got up and moved. Malcolm and Joniad to the left to kneel with his three brothers; Jonarad to the right to kneel with his family.
When they reached the body, Gilly snuffed all the candles and then Jon and Ellen met him in front of the body.
“The one closest to your father,” Ellen said in his ear.
“Seaview,” Gilly smiled. “I always did like him.”
“You are to address me as Uncle Jon,” the King of The Supernaturals said with a straight face and loud enough so that only Gilly could hear. “All hail The Halfling,” he smiled as he put Ellen’s hand on Gilly’s arm. The two of them took three steps back, prepared to watch Jon say his farewell to Reginald.
With a deliberate air, Jon stood behind Reginald and took out his pouch and sprinkled his kitchen sink mixture in the air above the body and with great satisfaction watched as it swirled and settled where it willed. Then he removed the sword that was in Reginald’s hands, the blade running the length of his body.
Jon walked around to the front of the deceased, and faced them, the sword tip now resting on the floor between his feet, the pummel in his hands.
“On behalf of the family and my queen, I would like to thank all of you for attending, today. A Twillard shall, perhaps, rest among the stars. Or perhaps not.
As for a eulogy, I am sure Reginald was discussed over brunch. Any praise that was forthcoming during this time is what he shall take with him. As far as service to his king, he was my accountant and a piss-poor one.” Well yes, he could see it coming. Joniad was going to start. If she was not the center of attention what was the point.
“My King,” she placed her hands out in supplication. “He hears these final words and takes them with him. We all know,” her face was earnest to those around her, beseeching understanding, “that Reginald was not a mathematician. He served you happily in the capacity of accountant to the best of his ability. To honor him, my son should pass to the stars with the sword in his hands. We do not know what or who waits for him. Will it be friend or foe? You would not want your brother,” she purred when she said the words, “to be without his weapon. For when that dark day comes and you shall return to the stars, your brother will be there to welcome you and destroy any who would challenge you.”
“I would not,” Jon’s words were minced, was all he said staring straight ahead.
“He deserves his sword,” she said, her voice a bit more stringent, her face stern.
“Reginald knew nothing about swords,” Jon countered. “I do not ever remember seeing him carry one.” Looking around the crowd Jon asked, “Does anyone else?”
Looks passed back and forth through out the mourners. There was a lot of head shaking and the whispering of “Reginald with a sword? Not ever. A dagger was his weapon of choice. He could hide it and gut you when you were not paying attention.”
“He deserves a sword! My son deserves a sword,” she countered, loudly. “The weapon of the righteous and faithful.”
“Joniad,” Jon said softly, “right now, you need not to utter another word.”
“Will you kill me?” she smirked. “Your own mother, for asking for what is rightfully my middle son’s legacy. That in death, he should bear arms to support his king, his brother,” she said proudly, disdain in her sharp glance at Jon.
“First,” his attention was now on her. “You are not my mother. Secondly, he is not my brother. Thirdly, Reginald with a sword…he would cut off his own arm before he could strike a blow.”
You could hear the clock ticking from somewhere in the house. Ellen thought perhaps the Supernaturals did not have to breathe. Ever. They certainly were not now. They all appeared as statues with their mouths open. Gilly’s hand had just tightened on her arm.
The silence was palatable, as in a most delicious, appetizing, toothsome way.
All eyes now went from Jonarad, to Joniad, to Jon.
“Father fucking leads to insanity,” was chuckled by many. “That explains much about her,” they whispered and cackled.
“I did not fuck my father,” she screeched.
“No one said that you did,” Jon replied calmly, “Sister dear.”
“Oh-h-h shit,” was heard giggled throughout the crowd.
“That’s right,” Jon countered with a smile. “Your king is not only a bastard, but a Halfling.”
“You fucking, stalking, whore,” Jonarad hissed. “I heard my grandmother’s shade whispering to drown you at birth. The first-born Twillard is always a male she said. She warned me you would cause great suffering and misfortune and bring disgrace to our family name.”
“Me?” she shrilled. “I learned my sexing ways from you. You want me to respect you, you should have kept your dick in your pants,” she laughed. “Who knows how many bastards of yours walks this human world,” she gloated.
“None of my bastards walk here,” he shot back. “When I would plant my seed here, I was always the clan chieftain and each woman that came to my bed was my wife so that when I left, my child would rule.”
“Did not see that one coming,” Ellen thought as she raised an eyebrow at Gilly who was looking a mite bit shell shocked himself.
“Liar!” she screeched. “Ever since my son was crowned king, you have pissed and moaned about your standing with the crown. Now you think to lie your way into our histories!”
“Enough,” Jon smiled at one then the other. “This needs to get done. My bastard nephew, Gillmore Irving, of the House of Irving,” the crowd gasped and then looked at Joniad and actually pointed their fingers and whispered, “Slutty whore…” in mock dismay.
“Enough so says your king,” Jon spoke out into the crowd. “It is time to get to the task at hand.
So take note one and all and pass the word. Gilly is my new accountant. If he asks you a question about anything, you will be most cooperative. He will be hard at work for the next several hundred years figuring out Reginald’s mind fuck way of keeping books. Do not count on seeing him around. No one here,” his eyes searched the crowd, “has any business with him unless you have my gold.”
“But I must lock him in,” Joniad sputtered. “He needs his mother on the night of the no moon.”
“As I said,” Jon continued on, checking his nails. “My new accountant and I, we are now joined at the hip, so to speak, until my fortune is accounted for. I will lock him in,” he lifted his gaze from his fingers that were now claws, his fangs down. “I am missing vast sums of money and Gilly is going to find them for me. If he does not, a silver bullet in the back of his head could be a merciful way to die.”
The crowd took a step back. Well, that answered the question as to who had killed Reginald, The Robber Baron.
“Now, to make my nephew’s job a bit easier, I have charmed Reginald’s body and we shall see what he has to say from the other side of the stars. I am sure he would like to make his half brother’s job easier. Perhaps tell him where he has misplaced the gold for surely,” Jon smiled, “he would not steal it.” That brought another round of chuckles from the crowd.
“Now, let us see what words of wisdom Reginald has to impart to us.”
Jon stood at the foot of the body. Holding the sword above Reginald, it burst into flames and the dust motes that were now swirling up from the body caught fire and followed the trails downward. This caused the herbs that had been sprinkled on the body to burn and to begin floating above the body, which in turn pulled Reginald upright. When he was standing on two legs upon his bed, his eyes and mouth both opened and he started screaming! The look on his face was one of terror as words finally formed as he wailed, “They are consuming me! Roasting me! Eating me! Forever am I tormented!” His screams of pain and panic filled the library and reverberated on the ceiling, sounding like thunder that was being tortured.
Then flames engulfed his feet, went up his body like a sparkler until there was nothing left of him.
“What was that?” Joniad screeched. “What did you do to him?”
Ellen could sense that all those behind her had drawn back in fear. Jon looked at her and she shrugged. “Apparently, if you die on this side, you are subject to the same laws as the humans. Do good and be rewarded in death; do bad and go to Hell.”
“Sounds right,” Jon and Gilly both said at the same time.
Jon looked out over the crowd. Fear was apparent and ruling supreme.
“How does she know this?” Joniad began screeching. “This human,” she spit out, “her words are nothing. You did this,” she screamed at Jon, “you did this to your brother. To us all. Such lies you spout to split apart our family!”
“Not my brother,” Jon replied. “And I am only king in this realm, not the afterlife.
My queen is more than human. She is a reader. Our auras do not lie and neither does she. Seaview is Gillmore’s father.”
“Oh shit…” was heard by everyone as Seaview repeated “oh shit…” in a shocked voice and then just looked at his older brother, Malcolm, and shrugged his shoulders. “She gives great head,” he shrugged again. Malcolm thought about that and nodded in agreement. “Besides, my oldest brother, she told me Reginald was not yours either.”
“All lies,” Joniad hissed. “It is this human that our Halfling King has brought to the passing of my son’s spirit to the stars. She is the one to blame for this.”
Ellen turned to her and smiled.
“The unholy witch gave birth to three,
Her sons kept their own council and let her be.
Sighting down the barrel you could see
Her blood, her doom and all is now free.
I am,” her smile got bigger as she took a step toward Joniad. “A very good shot. And like my mate, I protect what is mine. Test me,” she grinned, “and you may join your son in Hell.”
Jon extended his arm to Ellen and they began walking. Gilly fell into step behind them. When they passed out of the doors into the beginning twilight, they all three said, “Elvis has left the building!” and high fived.
Jon put his arm around his mate and his nephew. “Let us haul ass,” he smiled as he fixed home in his mind and the star pattern shifted.
It was a lovely show inside the house! Plenty to talk about! These spirit passings were such dull affairs. But not this one! No, this one would be the talk for generations to come! Everyone wanted to see what was going to happen next as several jockeyed their way to the front for a better view. Even from the cheap seats, you could hear Jonarad speaking in proud tones of his king making loins.
Then the floor show started as they all pushed forward to see better:
Malcolm grabbed Joniad by the ear and held her tight, despite her hissing and scratching and flying fists. “Jonarad, oh king maker,” he addressed his father-in-law, “you paid me in good faith to mate with your daughter. I accepted and told you that she would give to me the heir to my house. In front of a great gathering, she took my name and made this promise to me and the generations that went before me and those that were to come after me. My shame is that I trusted her. No more.”
Yanking the chain away from the catafalque, he wrapped one end of it around his unfaithful wife’s arm.
“Smitty,” he bellowed.
A path way was cleared as a great hulking of a being walked forward. “Forge the ends together around her wrist and your wealth shall be the stuff of our ancient legends,” Malcolm said, his voice calm. “We shall be as our King has said, my mate and I. Joined at the hip. When you give birth, Joniad, to my heir,” he hissed, “gladly you may join Reginald in the stars.”
“No,” Joniad shrieked. “No, you cannot. I want my freedom. You can have yours, Malcolm. Think on this,” her voice was hysterical. “You can take a new mate. Begin again. The bond between you and my father shall be broken.”
“Hold her,” Malcolm said to his brothers who were to the task. The smith removed the hammer from his belt and with his breath, heated the metal of the chain.
All eyes were on the glowing links and not her.
Rubbing her tits against the one holding her right hand, he momentarily faltered in his strength and that was all she needed. Shoving him off balance, drawing her knife, she gutted the smith and then Malcolm. Lunging at her father, she felt the blade go in but did not take hold. Not a killing stroke, but good enough so that he would not follow her as she streaked toward the door and freedom.
Carefully but swiftly she had to remove herself from the earthly plane. What she wanted to do was walk the star paths until all of this was forgotten. But there were only so many portals that emptied into the home world. And this was a feisty bunch. Malcolm had more relatives then there were portals. This would allow them to take turns waiting for her to walk through. Yes, she had sexed up most of them but Malcolm’s house was no more and she was very possibly in some deep shit with those she had tongued off and rolled. Sex, drugs, gold or all three might not purchase her way out of this.
Home…she needed to get home where they could not find her.
Fixing the star path in her mind, she took the first step to freedom. Given enough time, she would have her revenge!
Ellen thought this time through was easier. The colors still swam before her eyes but that deep darkness did not bother her. When they stepped through, they walked up her side walk and rang the bell.
“What did all of that mean,” Ellen asked, “to you, Jon? Are you now a legal heir?”
Jody answered the door, “One hour, on the dot,” she smiled.
“Thank you Jody,” he bowed his head to you. “You missed the show but we shall gladly elaborate on it for you.
Let us talk, my bride, and we’ll attempt to answer questions as we go along.”
Gilly was shaking his head. “You would not believe…my wife…” he smiled. “Thank you for being so understanding and allowing me to attend. I missed you and the children but…”
At that time, Gilly’s phone rang. Listening, he took a step back, and then another. “Yes, thank you, I will inform our king,” he said.
“Joniad gutted and killed Smitty the BlackSmith, Malcolm and she tried for Jonarad, but did not deliver the killing blow and escaped and has gone into hiding.”
“The dragon tooth knife?” Ellen arched an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Jon replied. “I think we can all agree on that.”
“So, does the dragon count as the third son?” Ellen asked.
Eyebrows went up all over the room.
“Good question,” Gilly said. “How about I pour and we shall sit and talk and my lovely wife can ask questions while we fill her in.”
“So, what happens to this evil bitch now?” Jody whispered looking over at the children who were watching The Little Mermaid.
“There are many witnesses to her doing this atrocity,” Jon smiled.
“It is now open season on her,” Gilly said raising his glass and they all responded with, “Hear! Hear!”
Jonarad sat in front of the great roaring fire that was in his bedroom. His place of sanctuary. He shared this part of his life with no one. Not his wife, not his lovers, not his children. There was a massive bandage layered with herbs wrapped around his middle.
He was lost in his thoughts as he watched the flames. They closely resembled the fire that he saw in Malcolm’s eyes. Shifting in his chair he winced and thought about who had done this to him. “Poor Joniad. Her recruits will no longer be desiring of dropping the veil. They all saw what awaits them in death if they die on the earthly side. I think those who are backing her will no longer. The home world has now become a very important safe place,” he mused to himself.
Something settled on the air and he rolled his eyes. Why oh why did people think him a fool. Making a face he said, “If you plan on killing me,” he put his feet upon the cushion, “you are going to have to remove yourself from those curtains. And toss a few more logs into the fire as well. Leaving those doors open for you has left a chill in the air.”
“You have gotten careless, leaving the doors open onto your balcony,” Joniad said as she approached him. “If you were sleeping,” she chuckled, “you would already be dead.”
“I knew you would come,” he sighed. “I saw no need for you to tamper with the locks or the doors. Smitty is dead. Just who am I going to find to replace any damage that you do?”
“You would have let them chain me,” she pushed his feet off the ottoman and sat down and faced him. “To that oaf Malcolm.”
“He was your husband, he may do as he damn well pleased. And you have not kept your part of the bargain, have not,” he stressed “produced Malcolm an heir. Of course, it is a little late for that now. His body has been transported home and will be laid to rest in the henge. Of course, since he died on the earthly side, his forever fate may be the same as Reginald’s.”
“Do you believe that?” she asked, wanting to mock him but finding it difficult to forget what she saw…what Reginald was enduring, even as a shade.
Shrugging, he lifted the whiskey to his lips. “Reginald seemed to think so. Jon is not one to deceive.”
“That does not come from the Twillard side of the family,” she smirked.
“No it does not,” he replied, his voice was relaxed as he sipped his drink.
“So, you are no longer in favor of dropping the veil,” she kicked his foot.
“That is correct,” he laughed. “Just how many of our backers do you think would support us in that endeavor now? None. Jon could perhaps not kill all of us, but he would most of us before we could stop him. No one wants to endure for an eternity what Reginald was going through. The look of horror on his face! His screaming! I thought my ears were going to bleed and maybe this left one did. And the stench! Human grave rot smells sweeter.”
“I would so love to be worshiped as a god,” she sighed, then looked thoughtfully at her uncle. “So that was not Jon or his magic?”
“No,” Jonarad chuckled. “That was not my son who spun Reginald around.”
“Did you really marry Jon’s mother?” she picked at her nails.
“Yes,” he nodded. “I was most specific about my travels on earth. I had no intentions of sticking around those human dung heaps, but my loins would provide the stuff of legitimate kings for these hapless beings. From me great legends were born.”
“So…” she began.
“If you kill me,” his voice was that of a teacher to a student, “that nullifies you inheriting my material wealth and everything goes to Jon. My oldest and most faithful remaining heir.”
“Well shit,” she sighed as she stuck her knife into the stone floor. “You still get a bone for me?” she asked as she leaned forward and pulled open his robe. “Oh, I can see that you do. So Uncle, do you have the strength for a ride.”
“I believe that I do,” he smiled at her.
“When do you plan on killing Grandpapa,” she asked as she sat down on his lap. “And when you die, is Jon going to get your magic as well?”
“I do not plan on dying,” he brushed the hair from her face. “And if for some reason I did, then yes, my magic would go to him.”
“What about my father’s magic?” she asked.
“My youngest brother died without a legitimate heir. So sad, so tragic,” he said with a straight face. “It reverted back to your Grandpapa.”
“Did you really kill both of my parents at the same time?” she asked. “It looked like blade work.”
“Of course I did and yes it was. I used my sword Trumpet Song. Your mother was an unfaithful whore just like her daughter is an unfaithful whore. And my youngest brother…he always wanted what I had.”
“I am going to kill you,” she smiled at him. “But not right this minute. You are,” she blew him a kiss, “the best fuck I have ever had.”
Jonarad threw his head back and laughed.
She slit his throat and watched as his blood covered her breasts. Rubbing it in and then licking off her fingers, she started to rise and then noticed the best surprise of all. “Oh, still hard!” she giggled as she positioned herself and thought about her future.
When she had finished, she righted herself and picking him up, tossed him like a half cord of seasoned wood into the fire. His body sizzled for a moment then exploded into millions of ashes that danced for a moment in the fire and then they were gone. “To bad you did not die on the earthly side,” she said as she sat down in his chair and pulled the stopper on the decanter and finished it. “You and Reginald could keep each other company.”
Hm-m-m-m, his sanctuary was truly lovely. The very best of everything at his fingertips. “I should have married true wealth,” she said wistfully, admiring the tapestries. “He would often spends days up here with no one to bother him. I think I shall rest here a while and enjoy the fruits of my labors.”
Jody was happy everyone was home. Not that she had been scared…and the crows were good company…but…
this was the very best. The family was gathered in the living room, still discussing the day’s events; the new house that they had purchased and how soon they would be neighbors and wondering if they would cook or order take out when Jon sat straight up and inhaled deeply. When he exhaled, he flexed his fingers and asked. “Do I look any different?”
“No,” they all shook their heads.
“Why? What happened?” Ellen asked.
“Jonarad is dead,” he said. “I inherited his magic.”
“Which means that either Joniad has killed him…or Joniad was not really his daughter…or both…” Gilly stated. “Personally, I would roll with all of the above.”
From our house to yours:
Have a blessed and safe holiday!
As always, thanks for reading!