To Protect and Serve Ch. 04

"I told ya, you didn't do anything wrong," Clyde said. "I just thought you should meet with these nice folks and the four of us can work something out that'll protect everyone."

Gayla looked at Shamira. "She'll keep looking. I can tell that about people. Some just want a quick yes or no about the person who's passed on, but your sister . . . she's the kind that NEEDS to know. She needs closure."

"That's her," Shamira muttered. "She's a bulldog when she gets her mind to something. And she called ME stubborn."

"You are," Clara pointed out.

"I am . . . don't you start."

The four of them spent twenty minutes or so formulating plans, only to have each one scuttled by the fact that Gayla couldn't lie, and too many of the stories crossed that line.

"Wait," Shamira said, "can't you just say that you made contact and that you were told that I want her to leave it be?"

"You think that'll work? Make her stop looking?"

"Maybe . . . oh who am I kidding? I just can't believe she'd even think of doing something like this."

"I've only been at this a few years," Gayla replied, "but sometimes it's the cynics that have the hardest time lettin' go."

"Another thing that you and your sister have in common," Clara muttered. "Ouch!" Shamira had returned the favor from earlier.

Clyde's phone started to beep at him. He rolled his eyes and flipped it open. His eyes went from "rolled" to "wide open" in a hurry. "Ladies, we have a problem." He got to his feet and headed to the door, but he got there just a second too late as Samantha Kingsley busted through the front door.

"What did you find out?" she blurted . It was a small room, and there wasn't anyplace for anyone to hide. Shamira had stood up to watch Clyde head for the door. Her eyes met those of her sister. "Shamira?" the older sister murmured.

Shamira's heart filled her throat. She had convinced herself that she would never see her family again outside a set of binoculars. She debated briefly denying being Shamira, but it wouldn't have worked. Samantha hurled herself across the room and wrapped herself around her sister's frame, tears in her eyes. Shamira could hear her sister's heart beating rapidly. She hugged Samantha back.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Clyde, Clara, and Gayla all stepped back, looking at each other and shrugging. No one had any idea what to do. They all stood by and watched as Samantha Kingsley, born Samantha Carswell, stepped back and punched her sister dead in the face. She gripped her hand in pain while Shamira barely registered shock.

"You're like fucking concrete," Samantha murmured, tears flowing as she hugged her sister again. "How could you? How could you pretend to be dead? Do you have any idea what I . . . what we've all been going through?" The stunningly beautiful blond girl stepped back, placing her hands on Shamira's face, staring at her as if to make sure she hadn't made a mistake. "Did you get in with the mob or something? Why did you do this? And why are you here?"

"Tell her," Clara said from behind her. The Native American's voice was compassionate and low. "Tell her the truth."

"Who is she?" Samantha asked. "Tell me what?"

"Samantha . . . I didn't pretend to be dead. I died."

Samantha stepped back. "You're a ghost? I thought you couldn't touch ghosts."

"That's not entirely true," Gayla said, then shrunk under Clyde's disapproving glare. "And that isn't particularly important right now."

"Mr. Pritchard?" Samantha said, noticing Clyde. "What are you doing here?"

"That's . . . a long story," he muttered, trying not to meet her gaze. "Yer sister will fill ya in."

Samantha looked back at Shamira. "What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

"Sort of," Shamira said. "Listen, as I said, I did actually die. But the people I tried to save . . . well, one of them gave me a gift before I died. Thought I was worth 'saving' I guess."

"What are you talking about?"

Shamira closed her eyes and pointed her face to the ground. When her face came up, her eyes were almost all pupils, and she had her fangs extended. "There are other things out there than ghosts," she said.

Samantha fainted, but her sister caught her before she hit the ground.

Two hours later, after Samantha had recovered, Shamira explained everything. Well, she left out little things like her new-and-improved sex life, but she covered all the bases in regards to dying and becoming a vampire.

"And you . . . are a werewolf," she asked of Clyde, who had found the entire process so far quite entertaining. "How can that be? You have cats!"

Clara looked over at Clyde and snickered. Clyde blushed.

"They're my kids'," he explained.

Samantha scrunched her eyebrows. "No, your kids have dogs, except Tommy who has the chinchilla. I'm talking about your cats . . . Buttercup and Tootsie, right? Two longhairs?"

Clara stifled a full-blown laugh.

"Don't say a word," Clyde growled.

"Listen, can I . . . can I talk to Shamira alone?" Samantha asked.

"Let's take a walk," the muscular woman replied.

"Won't you burst into flames?"

"Only if you try to light me on fire again."

"Once! And you were the one who said, 'Oh, a little more lighter fluid is all we need.' It wasn't my fault that Darin threw the match in at the same time I was spraying --"

"You were aiming at me!"

"I told you to back off."

The two women walked outside, going over and sitting on the hood of Samantha's car.

"So, you came all the way out here to talk Gayla into not letting me know about you? Why don't you want me in your life anymore? Your family --"

"Samantha, my new life is going to be dangerous. More than my old one even. My boss basically convinced me that the magical world is like the mafia. Yeah there are rules, but those rules aren't normal. Things that go bump in the night don't play nice, and if they knew I still had ties to the mortal realm . . . to my family . . . they might come after you to get to me to get to my boss. I may not have asked for this, but I can do some good here. But it'll be hard if I'm constantly worrying if some monster is standing outside your door, or watching John at soccer practice or Craig at daycare." She took Samantha's hand when her sister blanched. "I wanted to tell you. I actually visited the house after the funeral --"

"I knew it!" Samantha said, jumping to her feet, "I knew you were there!"

"Yeah. And I almost woke you up and screamed that I was still alive. Which, in retrospect, would've been a bad idea. Well, my boss helped me realize I could help by family for generations, but --"

"But you can't talk to us anymore? Bullshit!"

"You going to put a quarter in the swear jar when you get home?" Shamira grinned. Her sister used to cuss like a sailor before the first child was born, then they initiated a "swear" jar that had paid for many a summer camp.

"Screw you! It only applies when I'm at home. Otherwise I could buy a car after being at the clinic for ten hours."

"Anyway, my boss didn't say that I couldn't talk to you. He just pointed out the dangers in it. And c'mon, I've only been dead a few weeks. The learning curve here is a bitch."

Samantha glanced over her. "Well, I must say being undead has improved your sense of fashion. Why didn't you dress more like this when you were alive? Or is this some kind of payback for all the times I suggested something and you said --"

"-- but I wouldn't be caught dead in it. Hah hah. No, I . . . I can't explain."

"We spent a lot of time convincing her she was hot," Clara said, making both sisters jump. "Then we made it mandatory dress code."

"Put a bell on her!" Samantha said, holding her chest like she'd just had a heart attack.

"Hey," Clara said, "she's worse!" She was pointing at Shamira now. "Has she told you she can teleport using shadows?"

"You can?! No way!"

The next several minutes involved small demonstrations of Shamira's power as she hid in the shadows somewhere and then appeared somewhere else. Samantha actually looked envious.

"I wish I was a vampire," she muttered.

"Why? It's a hell of a lot more work being dead than it's supposed to be. Besides, you've got the husband, the great kids, a job you love --"

"And I've got my sister back." She looked at Clara. "Since you're here, maybe you can tell us how to stay in touch? Since I'm not giving my sister up again unless they kill her for real?"

"One, you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"As if anyone would believe me," Samantha said, scrunching her face and acting like she was talking to a small child.

"That's her mommy voice," Shamira explained.

"I'll bet the kids behave," Clara said, smiling brightly. "Easiest thing to do is buy rechargeable, no-plan cell phones. Only use them to call each other."

"We can do that," Shamira said. She felt better than she had since she died, as if a large part of her life had found its way home again. She picked Samantha up and gave her a (slightly) bone-crushing hug.

"Fuck, she's got stronger?!"

"She's actually as strong as a vampire a hundred years older than her. She's going to be special," Clara replied.

"She was already pretty damn special, even if she'd never admit it."

Clara smiled, then looked at Shamira. "I think I like your sister. Hey, go tell Clyde what the deal is and see if he knows a good place to buy the phones. I'll bet he does."

As Shamira wandered into the building, Samantha took a deep breath. "She's really still here," she whispered.

"She really is," Clara said, sitting down next to her. "You two are really close aren't you?"

"Yeah. I helped her with her broken hearts . . . I wasn't allowed to marry Patrick until she approved of him, though he always made her a little nervous. There were so many stupid people that didn't appreciate her, so she always turned to me. I just didn't realize until I thought I'd lost her that I always turned to her too."

"She's amazing," Clara replied. "She's a good cop, and so far she's been a good friend. She told us about Jimmy --"

"Surprises me. She keeps that one close to her vest. I honestly thought she'd never allow herself to be happy again until she'd saved everyone on earth from everything after that. But she seems . . . happier now." Samantha shot the strange woman next to her a meaningful look. "You will take care of her right? Don't make me get my husband's nine-iron and come down to Atlanta in the mini-van to kick someone's ass."

Clara was grinning. She really liked Shamira's sister. "We will. But like she told you, her job is dangerous."

"But it sounds interesting, at least to her. And if it fulfills her somehow, then it's worth it. This is just so much to take into account."

Clara smiled inwardly now, wondering how Samantha would take it if she truly understood Clara's relationship with Shamira, or the life her sister had gotten into.

Clyde, Shamira, and Gayle all came outside. Gayle looked much relieved, Clyde looked content, and Shamira was practically glowing. "Mall opens in an hour," Shamira said. "We can get phones there."

"I'll have to tell Patrick something in case he finds it. Probably say it's work related. The dufus will buy that."

"He's a dufus, but you married him," Shamira said, hugging her sister again. "You wanna take your car or ours?

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The next night . . .

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Clara and Shamira pulled back into the garage shortly before midnight. Shamira's spirits were high, and Clara was smiling despite complaining for the last three hours that Samantha and Shamira had just gotten their phones and didn't need to use them after spending half the day together.

"It's actually good to be home," Shamira said, hanging the keys up on the wall.

"Yes it is," came Clara's voice from behind her. The slimmer woman shoved Shamira against the wall. "And now, you need to remember that you're not in Kansas anymore. And it's not your day off anymore," she whispered heatedly into Shamira's ear. "Go to your room, put on something appropriate, and then report to Shane." She stepped back and brought a hand down hard on the muscular woman's denim-clad ass. "Got it?"

"Yes Mistress Clara," Shamira crooned. 'Did I just croon?' she wondered. 'I guess I did.' Something was different. She was happier than she could remember. She actually had a bounce in her step as she went to her room, and looked for a uniform for the evening like a teenager picking out an outfit for her first date. Straps or skin? Leather or latex? Make-up or . . . mask? Monique had filled up Shamira's closet with an assortment of active-wear, and there was a shelf covered with mannequin heads dressed up in all sorts of bondage masks. She ran her hands over each of them. This was new. New was good. Was she really this excited?

Shane was sitting in his office, waiting for an update. He had a stack of things in his outbox that needed to be distributed, but he wanted to find out how Shamira and Clara's trip had gone. Clara had called him from the garage and told him that Shamira was on her way and that things had gone well. She had that amused tone to her voice that showed up whenever she knew that Shane was going to be surprised by something. That made him smile. He heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said smoothly. When the door opened, he almost didn't recognize his muscular new vampire. She was wearing a spandex mask, with holes similar to a ski mask with a hole in the back for her ponytail. Those large breasts were attempting to spill out of the leather-mesh bra, and she was wearing a pair of stretchy butt-shorts that exposed more cheek than they concealed. She also had a pair of leather steel-toed boots that were buffed and polished as black as night.

"Shamira," he said softly. She looked different, and not just in dress. She actually looked relaxed. "Approach the desk." He watched as she walked forward, a certain confidence in her step. Many submissives leaned towards being meek. There was something defiant hidden just underneath Shamira's skin, and it excited Shane. "Bend over the desk and grab the edge on this side. Good." He removed his belt and folded it in half. "Now explain what happened on your trip."

"Yes Sir," she started, just before the first slap of the belt came down on her helpless backside. 'Just enjoy it,' she told herself. She even pressed her crotch against the edge of the desk as the belt met backside. She told him everything that happened, including her accidental reuniting with her sister. She figured it probably would piss him off, but she wasn't going to sugarcoat it.

Actually, Shane was delighted. Admittedly it wasn't his ideal situation, but it had apparently brought Shamira to this point. She had become part of this bizarre new world, and she was able to share it with someone to a small degree. All her new friends were part of it, and she had just needed some kind of connection to her past. By all accounts, Shamira's sister seemed like a reasonable person who wouldn't endanger anyone, and she anchored Shamira in many ways.

By the time his new charge was done with the story, her backside was striped heavily, and she didn't seem nervous or regretful at all. Despite popular mythology, vampire's blood did flow, but only when needed to heal the body. Shamira seemed like she wanted to climax. He'd give that to her . . . that and so much more. But not yet.

"Do you understand why I've treated you this way?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing.

"Because I've made you angry in some way?" she replied, pressing against his desk.

"Because you've made me very proud," he replied soothingly. "Put your hands behind your back now." When she had done as he commanded, he pulled handcuffs from another drawer and secured her wrists. Then he hit the intercom. "Henry, could you come to my office please?"

Shamira wondered what was in store for her. She'd never been with Henry in a carnal sense, and her curiosity was getting the better of her.

Henry showed up, looking even more Western casual than Shamira usually did. He broke out in a grin when he saw that the boss already had company.

"When did she get back?" he asked as if she wasn't there.

Shane unzipped his slacks and pulled his semi-rigid member out. "Open," he ordered Shamira, shoving his cock into her mouth. "Suck." He waited until she began applying pressure, bringing him to full rigidity, then continued. "Henry, I think Shamira here should help with that little project I put you on. You're still lead, but I want to expand her horizons," he said, winking and staring at her backside.

Henry nodded, unzipping his own jeans. "Feet together," her ordered Shamira. 'Damn she has a nice ass,' he thought. He peeled her shorts down to mid-thigh, effectively trapping her legs together while exposing her. He raised a hand and smacked that now-bare ass hard enough that it rang out through the office. Then he pushed his way between her folds and straight into her core, enjoying the tightness of her pussy as he began pumping her.

"Does she know what the project is?"

"Not yet. You can fill her in."

Shamira was trying to pay attention to what they were saying, which was difficult considering the circumstances. Henry was a bit better endowed than Shane, and the two of them together was a lot of manhood. Shane had grabbed her head and was thrusting himself between her lips, and she was sucking eagerly and dragging her tongue along his length. And with her thighs pressed tightly together, Henry's shaft felt bigger than it probably should. Neither man was being particularly gentle with her. She was just a sexual object, no more important than a cup of coffee while they discussed business.

She tried to ask permission to orgasm, but with her mouth full of cock, the idea was daunting. Her body was seized with delight, and neither man even slowed his pace. Her juices flowed out as she lay between them, and her mind didn't pick up on much of anything that they said for the next minute or so. The next thing she picked up was:

"-- by Thursday. Renata is returning with the new security additions on Friday, so that will be a meet'n'greet day, then she's got the deal with the faeries on Saturday."

"You sure she's going to be up for it after this deal and her 'therapy' with Banshee?"

"She'll do as she's told," Shane said. He withdrew his member from her face, slapped her on her cheek through the soft mask, then waited for her to respond.

"Yes Sir," she got out just before he shoved his member back down her throat. And he was going down her throat all the way, activating her gag reflex automatically. But since she didn't need to breathe, Shane didn't much care.

"No more flaking out?" Henry asked, spanking her ass hard again . . . and again . . . and again.

"I think that she's learned her place," Shane replied. "She belongs here. She belongs to us."

Henry grabbed Shamira's bound hands and pushed them up, locking her arms and making her push harder against the desk. With her shoulders. Shane slapped her exposed upper arms, lighting up the skin there as well. Shane started pulling all the way out of her mouth, slapping her in the face with his cock, then thrusting rapidly back in. And Shamira dreaded the moments that he wasn't inside her. His cock should be inside her. Both of them should. All of them should.

'What the hell's gotten into you?' Shamira asked of herself. But she had no answers for herself except for the grunts of pleasure that poured from her mouth into Shane's shaft, amplified by the pounding that Henry was giving her.

Henry pressed both of this thumbs into Shamira's ass and pulled slightly as he fucked her. He was looking forward to exploring all her pleasures, but this was just some quick fun. He was sure that Shane had a reason he was sharing, and Henry wasn't one to look a gift whore in the mouth. Or anywhere else.