Heather Jenkins-Sagemueller

Notes from the Author:

No, this is not the area where I warn you about ages and fakeness. That is inferred.

--This story is a direct follow-up to "Heather Jenkins." You should read that first or you'll be lost. I have no idea how that story ended up in Sci-Fi & Fantasy. I blame the wheel mouse.

--This story is long! (So is "Heather Jenkins.")

--This story contains magic for people who are offended by such things. (There are.)

--This story is also related to "Kevin Brown," if you feel like reading more of my stuff.

I think that's all.

The last thing I thought when I saw him raise his foot above my face was: 'Severe injury to the brain.'

I managed to turn my head, but not enough to keep him from catching my hair. He lifted his left foot up and stomped on my crotch. I saw so many stars I thought my head was going to explode, my crotch had never been attacked like that before.

Before I knew it, he was lifting me up by my arm and whipped me like a rag doll across the room and toward the wall. In the back of my mind, I pictured a wall in my house in Columbus.

i managed the linear fold but was still moving at the same speed when I hit the wall in my bedroom. It hurt, but I could catch a breath knowing there wouldn't be a follow-up attack.

My most obvious pain was coming from my balls. I tried to stand, but my left leg wouldn't support my weight and I fell back down. I had to get out of my clothes, the tight feeling I loved had turned into claustrophobia. The binding and restricting my movement causing a feeling of panic.

There was a gun safe under my bed, it held a .357 revolver and a set of daggers. I pulled one of the daggers out of its sheath and cut the laces on my shoes first, dragging them off. My socks followed, and I could see my feet were normal color, so no blocked arteries. My suit jacket was next, cut carefully lest I add a slicing injury to the list.

My right arm complained when I tried to switch hands with the knife, probably dislocated when Declan used it to throw me like a rag doll. I settled for a slow cut and finally got my tank and bra off.

Before I could start on my leggings, another hand took the knife from me. "Mother, what happened to you?" Hayley cried.

"Help me reset my shoulder," I grunted.

"I'll call a healer," Hayley said.

"Don't!"

"Why?"

"There will be questions that I can't answer. I don't want people going off on some revenge mission until I figure out what happened. Are you going to help me or not?"

"What do I do?"

Hayley helped me set my shoulder, then I cut the rest of my clothes off. My left leg was broken, along with some of my ribs, and my face was severely fucked up. My balls hurt less now, a bright light in a purple tunnel.

"Can you get me some gold, Hayley?" I asked.

"That's not something I normally carry around with me. I can get some, but there will be questions. Most of the time our kind doesn't need gold, we draw most of our power from a different plane."

"Shit, I don't have my purse or you could go buy me some."

"What does it look like?" Hayley asked.

"Forget it, Hayley. It's where I was...assaulted."

"Just think about the purse. Close your eyes, imagine the color, the texture."

"Okay."

"Now reach for it in your mind."

There was a popping sound, and my purse was in my hand. I opened my eyes and Hayley was beaming. "Wow."

"Object translocation. You can call anything you own to you, no matter where it is."

"That's a nice trick," I admitted.

"Just remember that the amount of energy you expend is relative to the size and mass of the object you are calling to you. Car keys? Sure. The whole car? No."

It hurt to laugh at her explanation, but I did. I rummaged through my purse as best I could and pulled out my wallet. "Do you have your identification?"

Of course the bank would call when somebody tried cashing a five thousand dollar check drawn on my account. After answering my security questions, they finally gave Hayley the cash. Two hours later, I heard her rustling around downstairs, then she came up into my room. She handed a small bag over to me. "Declan did this to you, didn't he?"

"You let me worry about who did this to me," I warned. "There is something going on here that is beyond a simple beating."

"Like what?"

I reached into the bag and pulled out a gold necklace. It dissolved into my hand, leaving behind everything not gold. I could feel the gold in my body, but it wasn't doing much. Another necklace, same negative result.

"Why aren't you healing?" Hayley sobbed.

"I am, just a little. All of the life-threatening things are healed, it the cosmetics that aren't healing."

"Why?"

"The same reason hickeys don't heal right away. Passion. Declan picked a fight, and I pushed him back to get him away from me and that's when he attacked."

"How did he pick a fight? Hayley asked.

"He did the one thing he promised not to do, he came home with another man on his mouth. Only in this case is was about fifty men. He was coated with cum and it was nasty."

"He was cheating on you?

"Not really." I went into detail on the deal Declan and I had made before we got married. I could have my harem and Declan could have his orgies.

"That sounds kind of sick," Hayley admitted.

"Well, life is full of compromises."

Hayley was especially interested in my visit from Gaia. "So she said that you gave Declan the power to sap the masculinity from those men who were fucking him?"

"Just the ones who were fucking him for revenge," I answered.

"We need to inform the elders," Hayley said.

"No, you don't. This is my mess, I'm going to deal with it."

"So how are you going to deal with it? Let your husband beat you all the way to death the next time?"

"You let me worry about that. This isn't something that falls under the purview of the clan or the club, clear?"

"I will point out that any conflict between you and Declan may affect Brookstone Pointe," Hayley hedged.

"That comes after I at least get well enough to walk."

***

It took two weeks for my leg to heal well enough to work out with. Hayley took to sparring with me to work out all the kinks in my leg and my right arm. I couldn't lift as much as I used to back when I was Heath, probably a result of me giving Declan most of my manliness.

Even after two weeks, my bruises were healing at an extraordinarily slow rate. I was sufficiently concerned about that to let Hayley bring in a healer. The healer pronounced me fit, saying that I was consciously blocking the process. I admitted that I had some issues to resolve and she told me that we all have issues. Hayley whisked her away and came back with a business card bearing an attorney's name. A divorce attorney.

The front of the card was black with 'Arthur' embossed in white. The back was white with an address and number in Los Angeles. Only in Hollywood would they have a single-name attorney.

I called the number, they wouldn't even take my name until I could provide my referrer. I gave them Janine's name and crossed my fingers. The secretary was back in a minute, setting an appointment only an hour in the future.

My getting to L.A. in an hour wasn't the problem. Getting to a place I knew would be my problem. On a hunch, I called Janine, and she agreed to be my destination face.

"Holy shit! Hayley wasn't lying when she said Declan had dropped you off a building!" Janine said.

"He tried throwing me through a window if that counts," I said. "I take it you provided my bona-fide with Arthur?"

"Of course I would," Janine pulled me into a hug. "I'm going with you, sweetie."

We rode to Arthur's office, which turned out to be a building full of attorneys named Arthur. The idea behind the firm was to strike fear into opponents by telling them they were going up against 'Arthur.'

The 'Arthur' whose office we now occupied had a wall of degrees and certifications. The degrees were all in the name of Stewart Madison, but the nameplate on the desk read 'Arthur.'

I wasn't expecting him to look younger than me. Janine and I got a polite nod as he sat down and opened a new leather folder. He started with the basic questions, noting the answers as we went.

When I gave him Declan's name, he looked up and gave me the once-over. I could see him studying the bruises, eyes calculating the damage. I shook my head when he asked me if I needed to see a doctor.

Janine clasped my hand when she saw me start to tear up. I was thinking about the attack and how cold Declan had been. 'Arthur' passed a tissue box across his desk and started pulling information up on his computer.

When he asked about a prenuptial agreement, I was lost. I knew I had a copy, but it was in Vegas. When I told Janine I left it in the car, she understood immediately.

We promised to be back in a moment, he assured us that he was getting paid by the hour. I called Shania, who was understandably pissed and even more upset when I asked for the location of the prenup. She said that Declan had been trying to get ahold of me.

Janine, who was listening impatiently, told me to just send Shania a picture of my face. After I did, Shania replied with an apology and a picture of the folder. I was going to enjoy that magic power, even if it was the only one I used. Folder now in hand, Janine and I went back to 'Arthur's' office.

'Young Arthur' had been joined by 'Older Arthur' and both were displeased that Janine was there. The points of contention were that Janine was not only in charge of the law firm, because it was owned by Brookstone Pointe, but that Janine had substantial dealings with my husband. It was a conflict of interest for her to be in on my divorce.

Janine agreed to bow out of the meeting, promising to wait outside until I was done. She left with 'Old Arthur,' and I handed my 'Arthur' the folder.

He went through it slowly, betraying nothing until he reached the end. "Did you check these accounts to see if the monies specified were available?"

"Arthur..."

"Just call me Stew for now."

"Stew, I didn't check. At that point I didn't have any reason not to believe him."

"Do you mind if I check?"

"Sure. I've got to pay the bill somehow," I shrugged.

Arthur consulted his computer, asking me for the verification keywords. "All the mentioned monies are available. The banks say the accounts are individual. This agreement is very strange in the wording regarding the heirs. Are you pregnant at this time?"

"No, but I may have knocked up the surrogates Declan had retained before we were involved."

Stewart didn't flinch. "Are you post-operative?"

"Stew, I'm no-operative."

"You can still pursue battered spouse charges, ma'am," Stewart pointed out. "California law is very clear on that."

"The assault took place in Vegas, and I won't mention the assault if he doesn't. I did technically initiate the assault, even if I was on the losing end of the battle."

"According to this document, the divorce is just a matter of signatures. There is a small problem, though."

"Whatever could it be?" I asked.

"Well, all the properties and accounts that belong to you are listed in the name of Heather Jenkins-Sagemueller. In the event of a divorce, every asset is to be put into a trust bearing that name. Those terms are non-revocable. You can't change the names on the properties and you agreed to only spend the accounts, not transfer them."

"I can't sell the properties? What properties?"

"The penthouses in Pittsburgh, the houses in Denver, Beverly Hills and Seattle. The property in Bern would necessitate filing papers in Swiss Courts."

"He's marked me," I sighed. "Any chance of just giving it up and just taking the divorce?"

Stewart snorted and made a show of clearing his throat. "I have seen women give up as much as ten million dollars to give clear their name. But..."

"Yes?"

"I don't know about two and a half billion dollars."

"Huh?"

"Thirty percent must be put in a separate trust for any children, but the rest is yours. You could contest the terms, but you did sign the documents."

"File it," I waved my hand. "File it."

"Did you want this firm to handle the trusts? We are licensed in every state."

"Do you get a kickback on the fees?" I asked with a wink.

"My fees are fixed."

"I'm kidding, Stew," I sighed. "Any other stipulations?"

"It's not a stipulation, but he does request a face-to-face meeting in a separate letter. Invitation extended to bodyguards also. I'd take it, ma'am. Maybe there will be an apology?"

"You only see my face, Stewart. You don't see the damage he did to my shoulder and ribs and leg. We'll forget about trying to throw me out a twenty-story window because the glass didn't break. Understand?"

Stew suddenly looked abashed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Does he say where?" I asked.

"Only a picture," Stewart held up an eight-by-ten glossy.

"The Vienna House. Perfect." The bodyguards would have to be natural immortals and I would want there to be at least six. I could protect myself with magic, now that I was expecting something to happen. "How long to get those papers filed?"

"I will contact the attorney of record. He also lives in Los Angeles, so it's just a matter of filing and approval. I know a judge that specializes in divorce cases, so the hearing should be quick. Once that's done, I'll let you know, ma'am."

"Thank you." I stood, and he stood with me. Chivalrous, if not exactly necessary.

Janine was sitting in the waiting area chatting with 'Old Arthur.' "Got everything taken care of?" She asked.

"It's just a matter of filing," I shrugged. "It is pretty much cut and dried."

"I waiting until after the meeting to tell you, but Declan divested his shares in Brookstone Pointe a week ago," Janine said. "I'm glad I didn't have to fight him about that, we have a lot of that money tied up in our solar project."

"He just gave you the shares?" I asked.

"Three hundred million dollars' worth," Janine nodded.

"Very strange," I mused. "All very strange."

"Thank you, Cabot," Janine said. "Heather is a close friend and she needed my support."

"Not a problem now, ma'am," Cabot nodded. "I'm sorry, Missus Sagemueller. On behalf of my gender, I suppose."

Gender? Did I count as male because of my pecker? Probably not anymore, not with tits and ass like a Hollywood actress. "Thank you," I nodded.

Janine waited until we got back into the car to speak again. "You're very disturbed about something, Heather."

"Something I wasn't paying attention to when I signed the original prenup. Declan signed over twenty-five percent of his assets and several properties over to me as my wedding gift."

Janine whistled. "You're kidding, he signed over two billion dollars to you?"

"Two and a half, plus properties. But there's a catch."

"There always is," Janine said. "What is it?"

"In order for me to keep the money, I have to keep his name. Everything goes into trusts to assure my compliance."

"Even if you remarry?" Janine asked.

"Yes," I nodded. "He's also asked for a meeting at his house in Austria, specifying bodyguards can attend."

"I'll see if I can rustle some up for you."

"They'll have to be natural immortals," I said. "I'm not sitting on a plane for sixteen hours just for one meeting."

"Yes, of course," Janine giggled. "Forgot about that."

***

The picture of the Beverly Hills house showed a fantastic mansion set into a hillside. By the time Janine and I got to the house proper, two bodyguards and two women were there. One introduced herself as Morena Wasikowski, and the other as Celina. Celina was a guardian. She asked for permission to enter the house, then proceeded to take a tour with the bodyguards.

"That's a nasty bruise you have there," Morena commented. "You don't know any healers?"

"The remains are psychological, I have some issues to work out. Your accent, Russian?" I asked.

"Yes, it is. You are a spy?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You have an interesting aura. It says you are welcome most anywhere in the world," Morena replied.

"Oh, goddess," Janine muttered. "I'll be in the house, Heather. Can I go in?"

"Sure, Janine," I waved. "Why is she excusing herself, Morena?"

"Because I read your entire aura, it means I have expressed an interest in you, Heather. Janine has a surface interest in you, but she knows you won't go for her if you knew her type."

"What type is that?" I asked.

"Janine is a masochist, she likes to be abused. She gets off on it, actually."

"Like spankings?" I asked.

"No, like paddling and whips and bamboo canes. Need I say more?"

"That's enough," I held up my hand. "I'm not a dominant. I prefer it on the bottom, actually."

"Too bad. I'd be willing to do you with a strap-on for hours at a time," Morena gave me a demure smile.

"That's different," I shrugged.

"Hmm. I still think you're a spy."

"I'm not a spy."

Morena considered my second denial. "It must be your passport then. Have you travelled a lot?"

Then it dawned on me. "My husband got me a spook passport so I could visit him anywhere he may be doing business."

Morena snickered. "Those are pricey, some go as high as a million dollars a country. Too bad for you that he turned out to be a raging lunatic."

I wasn't going to ask how she knew that. "That's partially my fault, I suppose."

"Do tell."

I needed something to eat, and I hoped that there was something in my house. My house. Was Declan using his properties to assure that he would have another shot at me? "I know that guardians can ward against the magic-user, can they ward against normal human intruders?"

"There is a problem with that," Celina said from behind us. "You would have to invite every single human guest into the house. That includes every guest to a party down to the cable guy."

"Well, there is a solution to that," Morena said. "You just have to appoint a trustee to handle those for you. Celina used to be a trustee, she was very good at it."

"Hint, hint," I said.

"I could recommend a few," Celina admitted.

"And why not you?" I asked.

"Because I doubt you want my two screaming toddlers to come with me," Celina replied.

"There will be more screaming children soon enough, I suppose." There was Shania, Loren and Kelsey. What about Kasey? "How many bedrooms in this palace?" I asked.

"That's the spirit," Morena joked. "Let's go find out."

I wasn't expecting Morena to latch her arm through mine, but it felt nice after two weeks of sleeping alone. There was still pain wherever she brushed up against my side, and it irritated her as much as it did me. The master bedroom and the ensuite were about the size of the whole second floor of my house in Columbus. Janine caught up with us while I was gaping at the bathroom and wishing I could take a soak in the marvelous clawfoot tub.

"It is a rather nice place," Janine said. "Almost as nice as your castle outside Moscow, Morena."

"You're very rude," Morena said. "That place is old and stuffy and cold. I much prefer the house outside Bern."

"Shit," I muttered. "What's up, Janine?"

"Did you want to staff this place? I know some excellent women who would be glad to keep up after you."

"This palace is more befitting a Russian touch," Morena countered. "The kind of touch befitting royalty."

They are seriously trying to one-up each other? "How about I kick you both out and staff the place my way?" I asked. "Seriously, Janine, can you get in touch with...my girlfriends?"

"Shania, Loren and Kelsey? I can look them up for you. Your friend Kasey has gone missing."

"I also need to get in contact with Kimberly."

"When you were in hiding, Miss Pulanski went back to Poland. She was a little heartbroken at your disappearance."