Homelands Pt. 09 Ch. 02

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Author's note

Part Nine concludes the portion of the series set in Spring. It is not necessary for you to have read the first six parts of the story, but this may be hard to follow if you haven't read Parts Seven and Eight. Part Ten will take us to Winter, and pull all the previous threads together.

This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex.

All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.

As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. I'll try to respond promptly.

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A few hours before dawn, the six of them returned home, smiling giddily and walking on air. They'd kept at for several hours after the last bit of Cahill's glamours faded away, and Caronwyn wasn't the only one who slipped back into her costume time and time again. For her part, Brittany hadn't even taken hers off. Just formed holes in it to allow her brother and sister access to her breasts, ass, and snatch. Good times had by all.

But the moment he set foot on Clan Walker's grounds, their five story home towering above him, Cahill came down from his high. He remembered the reason for their little costume party. The interrogations he'd stopped carrying out after the first and his mother's divination. He'd have been just as skeptical of that as she herself was, if not for the flute.

"Time for sleep!" Brittany declared. She looped an arm through Finnegan's, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said, "I'm the best kind of tired."

That Cahill was more responsible for that than he was didn't seem to bother their cousin. He gave her a smile and kissed the top of her head.

"What she said," Cahill's mother said to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think I'll be asleep before my head even hits the pillow."

"I've got to take care of something," he said. "But if you're that tired, don't wait."

She frowned. "Should I come with?"

"No, no," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "It's a one man job. I'll be up soon. But your head will definitely have had time to hit the pillow by then."

His mother smiled. "Okay. Maybe I'll still be up...but I make no promises."

"They were that good to you, huh?"

A flicker of light emanated from her brown eyes. "Someone was."

Cahill gave her ass a pinch.

"I'm going to look in on Kegan, Aengus, and Aileen," Fi told Seamus.

She always did that. It didn't matter who watched over the kids that night or how confidently they vouched for the children's wellbeing, his sister always checked on hers before turning in. It didn't matter that Aileen was nearly twelve and Kegan just a few months younger. Cahill wondered how old they'd be before she stopped. Assuming she ever did.

For his part, he was starting to get anxious about the flute. Did it make sense for him to be so impatient that he couldn't bother with doors and stairs after he'd spent so much time fooling around with his mother and sisters? Of course not. But all the same, he called it to mind, located its presence, and jumped right to it.

His brother's room was so well kept that it hardly looked lived in. The bed was neatly made, covers drawn tight enough to bounce quarters off them. Nary a speck of dust was to be found. Not on the TV screen, under the bed, or anywhere. The DVDs on his shelves were neatly ordered and the weights were all hanging from appropriate positions on racks. Nothing was out of place. Nothing left out in the open that could be stowed away in drawers, on shelves, or in the closet. Not so much as a shirt draped across the back of a chair.

How had they not realized before that the poor guy wasn't really in control? No one lived like that. His brother hadn't simply matured. He'd turned into an automaton.

He found the flute in a box inside another box on the floor of the closet. It was cool to the touch and strangely lifeless. Of course, he hadn't held it since he'd given it to his aunt. It had ceased to be his then, and no longer responded to his touch as it once had.

"Not for me, nor for thee," he muttered to himself.

It took more energy to unmake the flute than he'd expected. He'd either done a better job crafting it than he remembered, or it had grown stronger with use. When he finished, though, nothing remained. Not even a speck of silvery light.

Leaving the closet exactly the way it was, minus the flute, Cahill departed. He was only so surprised to find his mother fast asleep when he reached their room.

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As ever, the first thing Cahill did after waking was reinforce the protective glamours. He took his time with it, too. Even more so than usual. That he didn't find any real weak spots came as something of a relief, and he hadn't forgotten that he'd undermined Titania's plan the night before. But knowing that she'd come as close as she had to reaching Savanna inspired him to remain up in that great oak tree, playing his flute, for a good long while.

The city couldn't be too safe from her and her Wild Hunt.

When he returned home, he found Fiona standing by a rectangular pit in the backyard. At first, he thought she was doing some unconventional gardening or constructing a pond. But then he saw the truth of the matter. Had her hedge maze been formed to scale, it would have been more fit for kittens or bunny rabbits than people. But it looked like she'd squeezed a good ten acres or so into the hole.

The distortion of her glamour made it feel like he was looking out the window of an airplane. He could see little dots moving around, but not much more.

"Who's down there?" he asked.

"Oh, hey Cahill," she said, finally noticing him. She glanced at him quickly out of the corner of her eye, then returned her attention to the maze. Like an orchestra conductor, she flicked her index fingers this way and that. As she did, she reshaped the maze, frustrating attempts to navigate it. "A few of the kids. Brittany, Gallech, and Finnegan too, as giant wolves. Y'know, to give 'em a little extra motivation to get to the center."

Cahill raised an eyebrow. His sister and their cousin wouldn't hurt any of the children, but simply being pursued by oversized wolves would be enough to give Maeve nightmares.

"None of the little ones," Fi explained. "Besides, they're not pursuing them too seriously. Only Niall's gotten caught so far." A look of pride spread across her face as she added, "You should see Aileen move. I'm not sure they could catch her if they tried."

He frowned at the news about Niall. But the boy had other talents, particularly when it came to music. And Aeife would say it was good that he was only blessed in the one area. Not that he thought there was anything to that.

Probably.

"Padraig keeps walking through the walls like they aren't even there," Fiona said with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Crazy how quick their abilities are developing, huh?"

It was indeed.

But his mind had already turned from the children to the beautiful woman standing before him. In that green dress that barely covered her ass, exercising greater control over plant life than the rest of them could, she reminded him of the nature goddess who'd greeted him in his dreams all those times. Sometimes, that felt like it had been a lifetime ago. But just then, he keenly remembered the impression his sister had made on him back when he'd thought her nothing but a figment of his imagination.

She'd grown stronger since then. Not like their mother, who'd given birth to seven purebred children, but she had. And it showed. Mostly in her ass, which had grown bigger and more amazing. But in other ways as well. Her Libido didn't thrum quite the way Caronwyn's did, giving a pulsating resonance to any room she entered, but it was formidable.

"What?" she asked, blushing.

Cahill planted a hand on a mostly bare buttock and leaned in to kiss her neck. "You enjoy last night as much as I did?" he asked.

She shrugged him away. "Stop, Kay. I'm busy." Pulling the hem of her dress down as best she could, she added, "Besides, the kids might see us."

"So?"

Fiona huffed. "Sometimes you can be such an adolescent."

Despite her words, though, he felt a flicker of something in her Libido. Something that told him his attention wasn't entirely unwelcome after all.

"Sorry," he said, stepping away from her. "It was fun though, right?" He swept a lock of hair away from his sister's face. That, she didn't seem to mind. "Been too long since we got together. I've missed you."

"Almost as much as you missed Brittany?" she asked, swiping a finger through the air.

"What do you mean?"

She snorted. "You seemed pretty focused on her. Maybe it was just the latex?"

"I...guess," he said. Had he paid more attention to her than Fi?

That Catwoman outfit had been pretty hot. He'd enjoyed the way it felt under his hands. Against his body. The squeaking sound she made as she writhed beneath him. But that was mostly just because he'd never experienced anything like it before, he thought.

"Didn't take you for one of those," she said. "Maybe I should wear a catsuit next time."

"Can't say I'd object to that," Cahill said. "But the idea of you in just about any kinda outfit gets me a little excited."

He caught a glimmer in one of her green eyes. "Yeah?" A mischievous grin appeared. "How bout a burlap sack? That doing anything for you?"

"You know what I mean."

Another finger flick. "Sure. I admit, I didn't realize how much I missed playing those games. We should do it again soon. Maybe cycle back to some classics like Alice."

"Sounds good to me."

She eyed him askance for a moment, her Libido starting to swell. Then, abruptly, she said, "Oh, go away." With more than a little consternation.

"What?" he asked, laughing.

"I see that look on your face," Fiona replied. "You're getting ready to undress me right here, where anyone who looks up for a second or two will see."

"Right. I'm the one who's about to lose control," he said, giving her butt a good pinch. "It's okay, Fi. Better women than you have had more trouble resisting my charm."

A thick vine sprouted up from the ground and smacked him in the thigh. It would have hit his cock if he hadn't twitched to the side at the last moment.

Despite the reproach, she said, blushing, "Think you can sneak away for a bit later on? Sometime before dinner, maybe?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Daytime trysts were an indulgence they rarely allowed themselves. It pained him to say, "Perhaps," when what he really wanted to say was "You better fucking believe it." But he honestly wasn't sure he could get away with. Or that he'd let himself if he could.

"Yeah?"

"Perhaps," he repeated.

"Okay," Fiona said. "Well, if not today, soon?"

Cahill hesitated. Then caved. He felt guilty about giving serious thought to breaking rules for her he so seldom broke for his mother, but the nature goddess rarely propositioned him so directly. And seeing his older sister look downright nervous, because of him, was more than a little flattering. It was actually quite intoxicating. He might not be able to find the time right away, but as soon as he could, he would.

"Good," she said.

And, for the time being, that was the end of that. She shooed him away without looking him in the eyes, her full attention devoted once more to the children and their game. Cahill almost laughed at his sister's failed attempt to play it cool. To pretend that his answer hadn't set her Libido to boiling.

When he went inside, entering what ordinarily would have been the rec room, he walked into an upscale cafe. Most days, several sofas were arranged on tiers so as to combine the best of stadium seating with home comfort, facing a 120" flat screen TV. But now, there was a fully stocked coffee bar, and hand-carved wooden tables with matching chairs. Seated at the tables were the six youngest children, Seamus, Reilly, and Oberon. His mother was behind the coffee bar, working the espresso machine.

And looking damn good doing it. But, then, his mother looked damn good doing anything.

"A caramel macchiatto, please," Cahill said as he walked up to the coffee bar.

"Get it yourself, you bum," she said, albeit with a playful grin.

"Thought you were playing barista."

Not that she was dressed for it. Rather than black slacks, a white shirt, and a green apron, or some other unflattering outfit, his mother wore a red crop top and hip-huggers that emphasized her incredible figure. And damn, was her figure incredible. Her waist had always been thin, but it had shrunk even further as she'd grown stronger. Her hips had filled out a little, and as had her breasts, which had never been small. Between all of that and her face going from unbelievably gorgeous to whatever was even more beautiful than that, his mother redefined Cahill's very understanding of sexy. All it took was a quick glance at her and his circulatory system started working a lot harder.

"Just fixing myself a cup while I wait for the next round," she said as she watched the espresso drip steadily out of the machine.

He looked over his shoulder and saw what he'd missed in his haste to get a better look at his mother. Each table had a miniature faery chess set arranged atop it. A proper set would have nearly filled the room, but the children mostly didn't even know the difference. They'd made do with tabletop versions most of their lives. It just always surprised him, even after all these years, to see anyone playing chess while sitting down.

Strange. Not so long ago, he'd found faery chess completely alien. He still wasn't very good at it, but he'd grown so used to the real thing that the sight of chessboards small enough to play mortal chess on now struck him as odd.

"A tournament?" he asked, though he didn't need her nod to know the answer. "And Oberon's taking part? Did someone cut his umbilical cord?"

It was probably ironic for him to use that metaphor for his uncle's connection to Aeife, particularly when speaking to his mother, but Cahill could think of no better way to put it. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen his uncle amongst Clan Walker without her at his side.

His mother shrugged. "Think he's trying to make a point."

But, then, he also couldn't remember the last time his grandmother had so visibly questioned her lover's loyalty. Whatever might go on between them in private, all the rest of them saw was a perfect happy couple.

Cahill wished he could tell his mother that they could trust Oberon. But in order to do that, he'd have to tell her about the silver flute. And that meant he'd have to tell her about Liadan. Which he wasn't ready to do.

He should have years ago, he knew, but the more he chose not to, the harder it became to reverse a long string of bad decisions. He didn't think she'd care too too much about his involvement with the woman at this point, though she wouldn't love hearing it either. But she'd certainly want to know why he'd kept it a secret for so long. And the fact that he lacked a good answer would make the conversation painful.

"Regan's got no patience, I'm afraid," Caronwyn observed. "Maisie's not much better. But Morgan? Give that boy a few years, and he might be better than Seamus."

"Really?"

Not even Oberon was better than Seamus. No one was. Cahill's game had improved a lot, but if he won one game out of ten against his brother, he considered himself lucky. Except it wasn't luck, and that was pretty much the problem. Games of chance, he did well at. Unreasonably so. But his gift was of no help when it came to chess.

His mother nodded.

"I think Cori's got potential, but it's hard to tell. She seems to be throwing her matches." She gave the drink a good stir before adding some milk. "Can't say I blame her, either."

"Meaning?"

"Thanks to a strong opening, she had a significant materiel advantage over Aengus for most of the early part of their game. He didn't say anything too mean, but he sure gave her some nasty looks." A frown settled across her face. "You wouldn't understand, Kay. Being a girl means you just can't win. Either you're not as good at anything because your a girl, or you're punished for making the boys feel insecure."

"So she let him win," Cahill said with a sigh.

His mother placed a caramel macchiato in front of him. "Like so many before her."

Cahill looked at the drink then back at her. "Thanks. I would've got it."

She smiled before setting about cleaning the espresso machine for another use. "So happens I kinda like you." After a pause, she added, "But don't let that go to your head. When we go sit over there in just a moment, I'm not going to let you win."

"Ha," he said. "Like I need the help."

Truthfully, she was the better player, if not by much. But Cahill tried not to let little things like objective reality get in the way of his confidence.

A twinkle appeared in his mother's brown eyes. "Care to place a bet?"

"Well, I need to talk to Aeife," Cahill said. He'd like nothing better than to sit and chat with his mother while winning something fun and exciting from her. But they needed to deal with the security of the city first. "Is she around?"

"Yeah," his mother said. "She should be right back. What's this about?"

"No lesson for Ty today?" he asked, pointedly dodging her question.

With a frown that let him know the evasive maneuver hadn't gone unnoticed, she said, "I don't think she wants to let Oberon out of her sight for too long." She didn't say, "With good reason, if you ask me," but the look on her face said it for her.

"I'll explain later," he said.

She took a sip of her espresso, decided it was acceptable, and came around from behind the bar. "She went upstairs," his mother said, before gracing him with a small kiss. "If I'm not in the middle of a game when you come back, care to settle that wager?"

"Did we actually agree on one?"

"I believe I did," she said. He noticed her choice of pronoun, but let it slide. "You already owe Maeve music lessons," his mother continued. "So you can count on me picking something good in case you lose. Might want to get creative with your end."

"I'll do that," he said, laughing. Then, raising his cup, "Thanks for the coffee."

She waved dismissively while walking over to the one empty table.

Cori, seeing this, abandoned her post by Aengus' side. Cahill smiled to himself as he saw his daughter hurry over to his mother, who was already setting up the pieces. The one would have someone to keep her entertained until he came back, and the other would get to try out her A-game without fear of being punished if she did too well.

Cahill stopped on the third floor, which his three eldest children shared with Gallech and Reilly. He expected to find Aeife up on the fourth floor, but he thought he heard his grandmother's squeaky voice coming from Wynne's room.

With the help of a little glamour, he crept silently across the common area, past the kitchenette and one of the floor's bathrooms. He stopped just outside his daughter's room. A little more glamour amplified the sounds coming from within.

"Yeah, right," his daughter said most emphatically.

"It's true!" Aeife insisted. "They didn't."

"But you're so pretty," Wynne said in a whining voice. "And...boys love boobs."

His grandmother laughed. "Most of them, yeah."

"All of them," came the reply. Followed by a sob so saturated with despair that Cahill's heart broke in to a million pieces.

"I don't know about that. But that's besides the point. I developed late, believe it or not. Through most of high school, I was just a chubby girl with surprisingly small breasts." Lest that fail to make an impression on the girl, Aeife added, "Who was so pale they called me Casper. Or Lobster-face, when I tried, and failed, to do something about that."