House of Long Shadows

"Numenor? Had Kitten opened this as part of her brand-new drone? Hmm."

I saw the small clear cylinder with a single capsule by the sink. When I looked at the packaging again, it had my name, not Kitten's. When she had recharging gear or other peripherals delivered, she placed her name on the order—had someone from Numenor sent me a free trial vitamin? They always ran ads about health, genetic tweaking, and the like. Maybe it would give me cat ears and a tail. That would throw the other artists for a loop. It was as easy to remove those traits as to grow them. I popped the capsule into my mouth, washed it down, and looked forward to the pill's effects. It was time to rest and see if and when Arya returned. I think we had a long talk ahead of us. Two naked bodies lay in the bed. Kitten's drone and Julia lay spooned together on the right-hand side. I slipped in quietly and left them alone. My body needed sleep now, but it would be another story when I woke.

T Minus Two Days: November 2nd

The sun was streaming brightly through the windows, and after the pleasant distraction with Julia in the kitchen a few hours earlier, today looked to be a great day to get out, walk around, and get some drawings knocked out. Julia lay sprawled face down, her features hidden beneath all that wavy red hair the same way it had been earlier. I was tempted to slap her ass again but decided to let her sleep. Something about her butt seemed out of place, and then it hit me.

"You must have one of those cellular regeneration packages," I muttered. "After the pounding your ass got last night, you should be walking funny for a week. Oh well, breakfast in an hour, sleepy head."

I pushed some of her hair out of the way, kissed her cheek, and got up for a nice long shower. I caught an odd scent as the water warmed to the proper temperature. I raised my hand hand to my face and sniffed. It was a floral perfume, Black Rose or Rosalyn Dhu unless my nose was mistaken; when did Julia start wearing perfume? That was one of Dad's biggest no-nos; he hated artificial scents. After divorcing him, she threw caution to the wind and bought some to spite him, which was good for her. I'd tell her the first chance I got.

The shower lasted longer than expected, but the scratches on my back needed attention from one of Kitten's medical drones. Julia was full of surprises, submissive one moment and then a clawing wildcat after a few orgasms. It would be challenging to return to Arya if this kept up. After drying off and dressing, I helped Kitten fix breakfast. The amount of food she chose to cook was more than I would have, but so much sex leaves a body starved. The scent of coffee brought Arya and Julia to the table. I kissed them both to show I wasn't playing favorites. When Julia sat she did so slowly and after placing a folded towel on the chair's seat.

"My poor ass," Julia whimpered. "You two," and she pointed at Kitten's drone and me, "did a number on my pussy and backdoor."

"Whoa, hold the fuck on," I snapped and glared at her. "I fucked you this morning and you weren't complaining."

"When? What time?"

"Around three o'clock," I said. "I couldn't sleep after taking a vitamin and felt feverish. I went down to the kitchen, and your ass was sticking out of the fridge. We went at it hammer and tongs and not one complaint. You even scratched my back. I had your perfume all over me." I ranted until Julia showed her trimmed nails.

"You know Carcosa is allergic to perfumes. I never bothered wearing it."

"It wasn't her," Arya laughed. "Must have been another redhead."

"Morning," the woman said as she walked in, drying her hair and hiding her face. She stood next to Arya and lowered the towel for the big reveal. "Sorry about your back; thanks for the pounding." She said and kissed me passionately in front of the others. "Mmm, I am starved."

"What is she doing here?" Arya asked, trying to reconcile why an A-List actor was standing in our kitchen.

"Miss Watson? How did you get in the house?"

"Surprise," Kitten declared. "Hollywood is interested in the history of this house and wants to shoot a horror flick here."

"You let her in? I heard the two of you talking last night," I said.

"I warned you he was a light sleeper," Kitten laughed. "I thought you'd like to show the house, share some interesting stories, and meet Emma Watson. I never suspected you'd copulate with her the night she arrived."

"Miss Watson's hair and ass, I mean butt, look like Julia's," I stammered.

"Come on, Al, call me Emma after everything we've been through. Will you give me a tour when the time suits you? I don't want to be a bother."

"Impossible," I blurted out, and she smiled. "Eat up, food is ready."

Emma sat on one side, Julia on the other, and Arya opposite me. I kept silent as the three of them compared time spent with me. For a newcomer, Emma relished emoting and describing what happened earlier. I ate leisurely while Kitten hand-washed the dishes instead of loading the dishwasher. The little shit was watching and listening to the conversations with glee. After the meal, she collected the plates from the table and washed those as well, any excuse to remain. I hadn't seen this side of Kitten before, or maybe I ignored it. A hand settled on each leg when I was about to get up for my walk.

"I have done a little research," Emma began as the conversation turned the corner. "As I understand it, you are related to another Longshadow who crewed for an ancestor of the latest heir to the vast Marsh shipping line."

"Yeah," I said as both hands moved towards their goal. "My relation was the first mate to Old Obediah Marsh, and after several years, they went their separate ways."

I didn't tell her that Obediah founded the Esoteric Order of Dagon or that my ancestor started the Hermetic Order of the Silver Twilight. The reason for the split was jealousy and power. Emma and Julia giggled when their hands met over my groin. Arya narrowed her eyes but grinned instead of getting angry or jealous. When and how would I confront her about the guy driving the Chevy outside the strip club?

"Why so serious?" Arya asked, and I tried and failed to speak. "What? Spit it out already."

"Did I ever tell you I was a fan of classic cars," I asked, but when she remained calm, I continued. "The 57 Chevy is one of my favorite." That struck a nerve, and she went pale.

"I must leave," Arya shouted and was up and out the door without a hug or kiss.

"I suspect the car isn't just a showpiece," Emma said. "I don't want to get between anyone, but I need to thank you for the pleasant greeting. No one has ever fucked me like that in my entire life." She paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "I have a favor to ask."

"Um, ask away; I can't make any promises," I said, still reeling from the revelation that I fucked an A-lister actress and Arya storming off like that.

'I almost fucked her ass,' my inner voice gleefully reminded me. 'She slept in the same bed.'

I had spooned with her for hours, oblivious to her identity.

"About the movie and my part in it. Can I stay here, get your perspective, and walk around the place to feel its atmosphere?"

"Well, as long as I am here when you look around," I said. "We have plenty of rooms for you to... oh, I see."

"Don't you want a second or third shot at me? Something to tell your grandkids. I fucked Emma Watson into a coma. Julia?"

"I'm a relative newcomer as well," Julia replied. "Arya seemed to be okay with me being here, but this car business needs to stay between Al and Arya. We need to let them solve it, or not."

"I agree. You mentioned walking the property, may I join you?" Emma asked.

"Sure, I'd like the company. Julia?"

"I need to meditate. It is meditation time," Julia said almost manically, practically robotically.

"Understood, we'll be outside if you want company," I offered.

Kitten's duties weren't limited to the house's interior but the lawn, gardens, and greenhouses. One was under repairs but waiting for the permit from the historical society. They had to vote on the measure, but that greenhouse was over a century old and housed some extremely rare orchids, which I moved elsewhere until and if I was allowed to restore the structure. I walked over to the deconstructed greenhouse and told Emma about its history and a few of the orchids.

"My grandfather was an explorer who brought home an exceedingly rare species commonly known as the Devil's Orchid."

"Can I see it? Is it in bloom?" Emma asked.

"I suppose we can, but you must wear a gas mask. That orchid produces a toxic cloud that renders anyone breathing in the pollen susceptible to hypnotic suggestion."

"Bullshit," she laughed. "That story is straight out of a Victorian-style porno."

"I can prove the plant's toxicity," I said. "One of the tasks I give myself is collecting Devil's Honey. I sell it to universities and organizations of higher learning."

"You raise bees?"

"It took several generations of manipulation to get a species of bee that will collect that orchid's pollen. Want a taste?"

"Sure."

"Is there anything you find reprehensible or something you usually wouldn't do? That way, I can prove that the honey and orchid are genuine."

"I am terrified of heights," she exclaimed. "Ever since I was a kid and fell from a tree, I have been paralyzed with that fear."

We reached one of the repositories that Kitten maintained. A dozen or so cough drop shaped candies contained the Devil's Honey. I used gloves to handle the treat and offered it to her. She opened her mouth, and I plopped it onto her tongue.

"Suck on it," I said. Kitten started a thirty-second time, and when it reached zero, Emma stood glassy-eyed next to the greenhouse. "Did your producer or director send you here?"

"Yes," she said lethargically. The honey had doped her system, leaving her slow, happy, and suggestible.

"Do you want to climb that tree over there," I said, pointing to one of the largest and easiest trees in the grove. "No. But if you tell me to, I will."

"Close your eyes; imagine your fear of heights as a dark mist. Take a deep breath, hold it, and the fog will leave your body as you exhale, taking the terror with you. Keep going until every last vestige of your fear of heights is gone."

I had to phrase the suggestion carefully. If I left it at fear, I'd turn Emma into Batman. We all need fear to keep us in check. The balance must be maintained.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Normal," Emma said. "I still want to fuck you. I overheard you telling Julia how close you got to violating me. Wait until tonight, my ass belongs to you. I know how bad you want it."

"How do you know that?" I asked, and her answer took me by surprise.

"You told me, of course," she replied. "Last night, while I slept next to you. I heard your voice wanting my backdoor so badly."

"Did I talk in my sleep? Did Al ask to fuck your ass?"

"No, silly, Left did," Emma declared.

"Left? Who the fuck is that?" I asked, and her answer bordered on the insane.

"Just like Booker," she explained. "Your left hand urged me to spoon closer and give up my ass."

"You must have been dreaming. Left is just a character from a full-dive game. But for what it is worth, if you want to of your free will want that, I'll accept it eagerly."

"Mmm, my ass belongs to you," she whimpered. "Time to climb a tree. Watch me; you might enjoy the view."

'She just did the magic panty trick,' my inner voice declared. 'Look in the left back pocket.'

I plucked her jet-black panties from my pocket as Emma began climbing the ancient ash tree. The crotch was damp, and when I looked up, I could see her bare slit under the skirt she wore. The honey had cured Emma Watson of her fear of heights and secured me getting her ass pussy tonight. The drug wore off ten minutes later, and she raised her skirt and waved.

"I'll be," Emma said once she was back on the ground again. "You have a believer. Thanks for not taking advantage of me. No, my ass was yours for the asking even before I ate the honey."

"Let's continue, and I'll continue the tour."

Emma slipped her hand in mine and cheerfully embraced the natural beauty around her. We meandered across the top of the hill on which sat the House of Long Shadows. The Autumn leaves crunched under our feet and mingled with the other evergreen trees, contrasting with the barren trees that had already shed their leaves.

"The hill drops off and leads to a stream and Smuggler's Cave," I said, her eyes lit up. Her grip tightened, and we took the winding path to the hill's base and the trickling stream. "During the spring thaw, this stream can grow strong enough to hurl them off Thor's Strike, a waterfall just over here." Emma tugged me forward towards the top of the cleft in the rolling hills. I thought just a few minutes earlier, she would have been terrified to look out over the woods surrounding Arkham.

"Why do they call it such a strange name?" Emma asked.

"There is a local legend that during his final battle with the frost giants, he grew so angry he hurled his hammer to the other side of the world. This site is one of the legendary landing spots for Mjolnir, Thor's Hammer. I've looked."

Emma laughed and turned to face the cave. "Can we go into Smuggler's Cave?"

"No, we do not have the proper gear, and the cave is unstable. Sorry."

"We better get back; the weather will change," Emma said. "Look at those clouds."

I took her as far as the cave's opening. She leaned in and shouted.

"Wham!" The word echoed back along with a deep rumbling noise. "If I didn't know it was volatile, I'd swear that was an animal."

"Hybernating bear?" I offered and then continued with a few facts to appease her curiosity. "The most recent use dates back to prohibition, where the dry, chilly nature was perfect for storing kegs of illicit alcohol. The earliest records describe religious rites ascribed to unwholesome aliens and decadent native tribes of Asian, African, and Native American cultists. The documents I was able to access were vague and filled with derogatory and racist entries to, I believe, a cover for European members of the Hermetic Order, whose legacy my father carried on to this very day. The group was known back then as the Hellfire Club."

As we walked, the fallen leaves crunched and crumbled beneath us, sending a faint scent of pine mixed with dust airborne. Soon, snow would cover the hilltop, the ravine, and the surrounding countryside. I look around at the surrounding hills, many of which forgotten tribes raised ancient standing stones that predated the founding of this nation for thousands of years. A faint glint of sunlight on glass or metal caught my attention.

"What is that?" Emma asked, also noticing the brief reflection.

'Get down!'

I dragged Emma down with me on top of her as the echo of a gunshot broke the sound barrier, and the bullet that preceded it struck a nearby tree. What the fuck was that? An assassin had tried and failed to kill me, but why? There were more gunshots, and the sounds of their rapports became a cacophony before finally ending in a heart-pounding silence. I rolled onto my back and stared into Emma's eyes above me. Terrified of another attempt, I waited until the growing sounds of sirens replaced the gunshots as the predominant noise. The front door flew open and Arya raced out, one finger touching her earbud and nodding furiously. As I sat up with Emma, our eyes locked, and damn if Arya didn't look guilty.

"I'm on my way," is all she said to whoever spoke in her earpiece.

She ignored me, jumped into her convertible, and drove off, leaving dirt, dust, and leaves behind her. I swore that she had left earlier; what was going on?

'Maybe she is a reporter or want-to-be investigative journalist. The stripper identity is just a cover for the articles she is writing,' my inner voice offered. 'Is she writing a story about me? It would make sense why she has refused my offers of marriage. She likes fucking me but doesn't want anything more than that. That made sense of her crazy hours and often awkward behavior.'

I let out a sigh of relief. That also explained Arya's lies and inconsistencies about family, the money she made, and why she refused to let me film her sucking my cock. Nah, there are a lot of chicks that don't dig getting filmed doing lewd shit.

"Get inside, upstairs; you have been inside all morning. Got it? You don't need the cops dragging you into my troubles."

"Thank you. I am so draining your balls later," Emma said, fleeing into the house's interior.

I waited for the cops to show up and watched the ongoing reports about the gunman, who was, in turn, shot multiple times. I stood in the living room before the humongous holographic screen and flipped through the local news and streaming channels. Maybe they didn't know about the attempted assassination. Did I call and tell them? Fuck.

"Kitten, call my Dad."

I heard the ringing sound playing over the hidden speakers.

"Son?"

"Listen, I hate calling you," I began. "But someone took a shot at me, and there is nothing on the news about it. Should I call the cops or leave it be?"

"I know all about it," Carcosa said. "I'm surprised by your call but appreciate it. Please don't say anything unless they approach you. The last thing you need right now is unwanted attention. Soon, it will be unavoidable, but for now, silence is golden. Oh, speaking of it, I have one last gift for you. But it won't arrive for a while. It was nice speaking to you."

Click.

Carcosa ended the call abruptly, and I laughed. Some shit never changes, but this one time, I agreed with him. The last thing I wanted was attention, especially from the police and reporters. Maybe I'd give Arya, or whatever her real name was, an exclusive. Until shit went sideways, I'd keep it quiet. It wasn't until I had time to calm down and collect my thoughts that I smelled the strong urine scent and looked down. When had I pissed myself? The near-death experience had left me traumatized. I stripped down and added my clothes to the towel in the hamper.

I was beginning my second-morning shower when the doorbell rang. Kitten informed me that two police detectives were at the door.

"Let them in," I ordered. "Inform them I am washing up after the near miss."

As tempting as it was to walk out in only a towel, common sense reared its ugly head and won that argument. I slipped into jeans, a T-shirt, and a light hoodie. A man in an expensive suit a woman in dark slacks, and a matching cotton blouse stood in the entryway. I estimated the guy's suit had set him back at least a thousand dollars. He wasn't a local cop or detective but a federal agent. His body language and garments made him stand out. What agency did he represent? I played dumb until I could learn more.

"Can I help you?"

"I am Detective Ivy Baker," the cop replied and displayed her badge. "Your neighbors directed me here; one of them said someone shot in this direction. Can you shed any light on this situation?"

"Yeah, check out the tree on the eastern side of the house. I was taking a walk when someone with a scoped rifle shot at me."

"Bullshit," the man in the expensive suit blurted out. "If the shooter had a scope, how did you dodge a bullet?"

"I never said I dodged a bullet, did I?" I snapped, and my curiosity turned to intense dislike.

"Sorry. Can you start from the beginning?" The agent asked, but his apology felt hollow.

"How far back do you want me to go?"

"When did you wake up?" He asked.

"Three o'clock," I said.

"Did something wake you?"

"Nah, I just wasn't tired. So, I went down for a snack and to watch TV until I got tired. That didn't happen. Afterward, I was worn out and slept like a baby."