Benjamin Cantrell

Hello.

This particular yarn started a long time ago.

I'm not sure why I stopped, I'm not sure why I began again.

But, I added it to my collection. I think it is good. Hopefully you will as well.

I dropped this particular story into 'Novels and Novellas' for a reason. While there is magic involved, it's not really a 'Science Fiction and Fantasy' story. It takes place at what could be interpreted as present day, and I regard fantasy as strictly elves and fairies. Am I right?

You are the judges, of course.

Just a warning, any one of these 'name' stories can 'spoil' another. Yeah, I'm awful.

-contains magic-

-only adults when sexual situations are involved-

-long-

-turn your blue light filters on, folks.-

People handle grief differently, my counselor tells me. She seems to regard my grief as curious, simply because I am wearing my wedding band ten years after my wife had passed away. She also joked with me that I was using my band as a shield, to stop women from getting close to me. I asked her how long she had been living in Los Angeles.

She didn't give an answer.

I told her that my band was actually a magnet for some women, women who wanted to have a romp in the hay without getting emotionally attached.

Janara admitted she had never thought about that. She and her husband had been married for eight years and he had never had a woman come onto him sexually.

For me, it happened at least once a week, I explained. I was going to have to find another brush-off line, because most of the women who came onto me didn't get it when I told them that I didn't have any pet rabbits.

Janara didn't get the reference, either. I told her the name of the movie and she would have to see it for herself. At our next session she told me that she got the reference and that the movie should be remade for the current generation.

***

I was eating at a diner three weeks later, minding my own business, and watching the traffic roll down the street when an extremely beautiful woman sat across from me in my booth.

"Hi," she held out her hand, "I'm CJ."

I didn't want to be rude, so I took the offered hand and did a normal handshake. CJ was a little late releasing mine, and seemed to pout a little when I pulled away. "Benjamin."

"Are you going to finish those fries?" She asked.

"CJ, I'm sorry, but I'm married."

"Hmm. That was a yes or no question."

Sassy.

I pushed my plate across the table, following it with the bottle of catsup. "I don't have any pet rabbits."

She snorted because her mouth was full of fry. She swallowed what was in her mouth and took a swig of my water. "Rabbits don't make good stew anyway, especially when they haven't been skinned. Gerbils are better pets and make good stew."

Sassy, smart, and had a good comeback.

I toyed with my wedding band. "How old are you?"

"That's not polite," CJ scowled. "If you really must know, I'm just a little older than you."

It was my turn to snort. "How old do you think I am?"

"Just a little younger than me."

Brushing her off without hurting her feelings wasn't going to work. "CJ, I'm not interested." I grabbed the check and left her there, munching on my fries. I snagged my waitress on the way to the cashier and tried to give her the money for my meal. She refused, saying that the woman who came to my table had already settled my check and given her a hefty tip.

Looking back at my table, I saw CJ pop my last fry into her mouth. She gave me a little wave after she finished drinking what was left of my water.

Pet rabbits indeed.

***

My evening would be taken by the dinner I had been invited to attend. The restaurant-slash-karaoke bar that I partially owned had contributed nearly one hundred thousand dollars to The Pink Foundation over the past year and that got me my invite. It wasn't unusual for me to be invited to events around the city. I made good money managing the bar, and that allowed me to be generous to causes dear to my heart.

The Pink Foundation was my dearest cause. My wife Louise had died of breast cancer ten years ago, and I was still grieving. Louise had followed the protocols exactly: She got an annual mammogram, did self-examinations weekly, everything. The protocols hadn't failed her, the cancer had swept through her body like a literal tidal wave.

Louise and I had been in Columbus, Ohio, having dinner with her daughter from her first marriage when she passed out. We got to the hospital, and after the doctor examined her, she came out to talk to me.

Her first question was to ask me if Louise had passed a recent mammogram. I told her that Louise had just gotten a clean bill of health the previous month. The doctor's face went into total disbelief mode. She told me that Louise had advanced breast cancer and was surprised that she was even mobile.

I told the doctor she had to be wrong, Louise and I had done a two-mile run that very morning. I got the twisty face again, then the doctor asked me if she could perform an MRI. I agreed, and she went to write the order. Orderlies whisked her past me a few minutes later, the doctor coming to talk to me again.

She finally introduced herself as Markie Harris and that she had been in emergency medicine for only a year. She had previously been a general surgeon. I asked her why she had made the switch, and she had told me that she wanted to treat people as people and not just as slabs of meat on an operating table.

I went to the ER waiting room to talk to Louise's daughter Jenny about what was going on. She was in total shock that the doctor said her mother had advanced breast cancer. She said that there was no way that could happen and demanded to see the doctor. We didn't have to wait long, Doctor Harris came out into the waiting room and waved us back.

She told us what the MRI had found: Louise not only had advanced breast cancer, it was metastatic and was everywhere in her body. Jenny gasped in disbelief, and I told Doctor Harris that what she was saying was impossible. She shook her head and told us there was nothing medicine could do for Louise.

Over the period of just a week, Jenny and I had watched in horror as the cancer swept through Louise's body. In one of her lucid moments, she told Jenny and I that she was in no pain, she was just extremely tired. The lucid moments became fewer and shorter until she closed her eyes and didn't open them again.

***

I looked at the band on my finger. Yes, my Louise was gone. She would want me to move on, wouldn't she? Jenny had given up on trying to get me to take the ring off, calling me old and cranky, and even one time: cantankerous. She said she loved me and that even though she wasn't my biological daughter, she'd always call me 'dad.'

I fiddled with the ring, trying to take it off and failing miserably. I got some Vaseline to help me, and the ring finally got past the knuckle and slipped the rest of the way off. I went into my bathroom and was starting to wipe the Vaseline off my hand when a pang of guilt hit me.

Why was I feeling guilty? Was I betraying Louise by taking the band off? I tried to put it back on my finger and it wouldn't go past the knuckle. In fact, my knuckle had swollen a bit because of the fight to remove the ring. I went to the bathroom, trying to get my hands clean. There Vaseline came off my hand with tissues, and then I wiped off the band. I carried the ring into my bedroom and placed it on Louise's dresser. I had a second thought and pulled open the top drawer.

Louise had a ring holder in that drawer. It was originally from a jewelry store, having the velvet crevices in which to squeeze your rings. When the government had finally released Louise's body, I had taken her engagement and wedding bands and put them into that holder. I placed my wedding band beside Louise's and closed the drawer.

I didn't know what I felt as I drove to the banquet hall where The Pink Foundation dinner was being held. I kept it together, mostly because I wanted to honor Louise's memory by attending the event, an event dear to my heart.

Security gave a brief glance at my invitation and waved me through. Just past the name tag table was the seating chart, which told everyone where to sit. I moseyed through the tables, verified my spot and went to observe the crowd. This particular hall was my favorite because it had a second-floor balcony from which I could observe the people below me. I spotted the security immediately, even though they were trying to be unobvious.

The six men with bulges in their jackets were expected. There were an equal number of women wearing suits which were feminine enough to not immediately give them away, but functional enough to allow them to respond to a threat. The firearms were a tool of last resort, I knew that even The Diamond Stalker, a man who had terrorized Melissa Johnson for five years, had been very powerfully arm-locked and led out of an event like this one with little comment.

Then there was the security planted among the guests. The men could have been me, year-old tuxedos, just a little rough for the aristocrat crowd. The women security were dressed as guests, but all wore the same type of bracelet and had the telltale glint of earwig posts sticking out of their ears.

Suddenly one of the woman guards looked up at me, and when she was sure she had my attention, gave me a little wave.

What the fuck?

I recalled that woman from several other occasions and she had even been in my club over two dozen times in the past year! I racked my brain for the times she had been in my club and what possible celebrity she could have been guarding.

Some Observer you are.

Then I saw her, a woman strutting across the floor in a purple gown and with a curtain of brown hair long enough so that it looked like a bridal veil when she moved. She stopped several times to greet other guests, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of her.

That shade of purple had been Louise's favorite color, and my favorite color as well. Every time we went somewhere, she had worn a scarf, blouse, or any article of clothing, dyed in that shade of purple. She jokingly called it my eye-magnet, so that I wouldn't look at any woman but her, like I looked at her.

And there that woman was, walking through the crowd in a color that was so attractive to me that I couldn't take my eyes off her. I couldn't resist looking at her, and I didn't want to seem like a stalker to the two dozen security people on the floor, so I would have to make my escape.

I found the quickest way to the exit, and was almost there when I felt a hand on my arm.

Shit.

The hand pulled me around until I was looking at the woman in purple, giving me the brightest smile. "Where are you going?" She asked.

"I'm not feeling very well," I lied.

"Come now, Benjamin. You haven't even tried the rabbit stew.."

All of a sudden I saw that playfulness in her eyes. "CJ?"

"Chicago Jane," she nodded. "Come, there's some people I want you to meet."

"I...I think I should go. I don't want your security to think I'm some kind of stalker," I protested.

"If anyone is the stalker, it's me," she giggled. "Come, Benjamin, let me show you to your table."

She started to pull me toward the VIP table. "Chicago, I'm over there," I pointed.

"If you let me call you Benji, I'll let you call me CJ."

"Um, okay."

"I've moved your seat," CJ said. "I know you won't mind."

"And if I do?"

CJ whirled around and looked me in the eyes. "Don't be a shit, Benji. This is the path that you have always had, you've just been too stubborn to follow it." She hadn't said that aloud, I heard her in my mind.

"What?"

"Focus on the now. The questions will answer themselves if you just pay attention. Observer."

Oh, my, god.

"Goddess, Benji. God is a woman. Her name is 'gaia.'"

When CJ finally got to her table, my head had stopped spinning. Somewhat. She introduced me to Kyle Andrews, and his wife Melissa Johnson-Andrews. I knew the names, I had seen their movies. Johan Birch, and his wife Petra. I knew those names as well, Johan was the owner of Birch America, and that company had put more rockets into space than every country on Earth. Combined. US Senator Dave Wallace, and his wife Tara Knight. Heather Jenkins-Sagemueller and her wife, Tiara Thatcher.

That was a huge amount of information. I had heard the names before, separately. Collectively, this group was a powerhouse of money and influence.

"Welcome," Kyle said. "We are glad you're here."

"Why?" I was extremely, supremely confused. Kyle looked over my shoulder and beckoned to somebody.

I looked over my shoulder, and the one of the women whom I had marked as security; actually the same woman who had waved at me, came over to the table and handed Kyle a gold bracelet. "Thank you, Marti," Kyle nodded to her.

"Welcome sir," Marti chirped.

"You have ninety seconds to ask the relevant question and get an honest answer," Kyle said. He slapped the bracelet onto the table. "Now."

"Why are you paying so much attention to me?" I asked.

CJ took my hand. "Because nine years ago you made a donation of one hundred thousand dollars to this very foundation. That donation, and the study it funded, saved my mother's life. Me individually, and later this group as a whole, have been watching you, as you have been observing us."

"Twenty seconds. Time for one more," Kyle announced.

"Why now?" I asked.

CJ took my hand and pinched my wedding ring finger. "Because you finally let go."

I hadn't realized it before, as I was too intent on Kyle's supposed clock, but time had stopped around us. Of course I had only a second to assimilate that information before time resumed.

"What do you mean?"

"A vow is a very powerful thing," Johan volunteered. "If you can keep your head from exploding for a little while, I promise to explain that to you."

"Johan," CJ said in an aggressive tone. "You need to stay out of this. This is a club matter with your clan barely on the periphery."

"Benjamin," Johan locked eyes with me. "You need to pay attention to everything that happens around you from this moment forward. Everything, no matter how insignificant, needs to be cataloged. This is your power. I am not fucking around with you."

"Johan, goddess-damnit!" CJ growled.

"CJ," Johan growled back. "Shut up."

"If I may intervene here, we are among mortals," Marti said. "A cone of silence can only last so long before it is noticed."

"Thank you, Marti," Kyle said.

My head almost did explode. The woman with Johan, his wife Petra, seemed to sense that and engaged CJ and I in conversation about seemingly normal things to help calm things down. The dinner was served, speeches given, and I was presented with a certificate which I would hang in my club, as I was a participant in the fight against breast cancer.

Changing clothes after a banquet like the one we were leaving was a given. While CJ looked awesomely awesome in her purple gown, it wouldn't be comfortable wearing to any after-party. While I normally went home after such an event, CJ presented me with a change of clothes in a hanging bag. The outfit inside was just jeans, a t-shirt, shoes, and a leather jacket.

She came out of the improvised dressing room wearing a t-shirt, short purple skirt, and a leather jacket like mine. Her jacket was smaller than her frame, and it was half-zipped, which emphasized the v-neck tee and her wonderful cleavage. When she saw that she had my absolute attention, she gave me a smile and unzipped the jacket. The purple skirt caught my attention, I wouldn't say anything about the color because it looked awesome on her.

CJ and I went in her ride, a nice Chevy Tahoe with a very serious woman driver and an equally serious woman riding shotgun. Shotgun, almost literally, because they were both armed.

"This was a very interesting evening, CJ," I said as I took her hand. I would say that it is the most interesting evening that I have had in a while..."

She turned and gave me a half-smile, "But you've never had an evening like this. Yes, I am sure."

"You're pissed."

"Not at you, Benji," CJ admitted. "Johan and Kyle, they seem to think that you should know everything, all at one time! I wanted a chance to get to know you first, not have all this...the magic shit...dropped on you at once!"

I heard a snort from the front. "What's that?" I asked.

"If it should be said, Miss Chicago, all of the magic shit was dropped on us as well," the woman in the passenger seat replied.

"Yes, Salome, I'm sorry," CJ sighed.

"How so?" I asked. There was no answer.

"Go ahead, Salome," CJ prompted.

"Carolinia and I, we were brought to the US one hundred and seventy years ago as indentured servants. We served men until the last of the family died. It was only then that we were released from our word, that's when we found out about witchcraft."

"Wiccanism, Salome," CJ corrected.

"Oh, god," I sighed. "Slavery? That had to be what, eighteen forty? Huh?"

"Natural immortals," CJ clarified. "Magic, remember?"

"Our last owner died in nineteen eighty," Salome clarified.

What. The. Fucking. Fuck!!!

"If they weren't dead, I'd kill them myself! Nineteen eighty!"

"We didn't know," CJ said. "Nobody knew. Remember what Johan said about vows?"

"GOD!" I shouted.

CJ gripped my hand. "This is what I was afraid of, overloading you with too much information."

"Slavery. God!"

"Goddess," CJ clarified.

"Goddess," I grunted. "Salome, are you...you're..."

"We are security, both Carolinia and I are protectors."

"We are guardians," Carolinia clarified.

"How much do you get paid?" I asked.

"We want for nothing," Carolinia answered. "We have everything we want, our children have everything they want, and we can leave whenever we want, with a stipend that will have us living comfortably for the rest of our lives."

"And you know that for sure?" I queried.

"I can give you their names and addresses, a list of the ones who have chosen to leave," CJ intervened.

"You can?" I asked.

"Most every woman who has left has chosen Europe as their residence," CJ said. "Do you see? At-will and free-will, that is our credo. Anybody can leave, separate themselves from the clan."

"Why would we want to?" Salome interjected.

"Explain," I ordered.

"While Carolinia and I enjoy our relatively cushy lives as security, we spent a year at other tasks. They were not easy tasks, working in places we didn't know, against forces we couldn't see. It was a dark time, but we are stronger for it."

"Salome, what kind of dark times are you referring to?"

She sighed. "One time, we were part of a team sent to rescue a large group of women from a ghost town. Carolinia and I were briefly captured and managed to escape, only to have those we were trying to save whisked away from us."

"You're being very vague," I pointed out. "Is there a reason for that?"

"Salome?" CJ prodded.

"It was a supernatural activity, ma'am."

"You were at Shannonburg, weren't you?" I asked. "That ghost town that vanished."

"And later security at Sunshineville," Salome admitted. "Helping relocate and protect the women who needed protecting. I'm sorry, we're not really supposed to talk about Shannonburg and Sunshineville is off-limits for anyone not directly involved."

"How do you know about Shannonburg?" CJ asked as a redirect.

"I used to live in North Carolina."

CJ sighed. "I know. You have a step-daughter in Ohio. I know that because..."