Life as a New Hire Ch. 44

"The Bear-Goddess," Katrina enlightened me. "I apologize," Katrina nodded to Rayen as I clasped arms with this woman in the Amazon-style.

"I have you to thank for being alive," she grinned at me wickedly. "On the occasion of my first great-granddaughters birth, I planned to take myself to the cliffs. I had lived a full life, my line was strong and I was feeling worn. Unfortunately, the 'Peacemaker' – Wakko Ishara – inaugurated the Goddess' reemergence by plunging the Host into a Global War."

"The Golden Mare asked me to forestall my desires to see my ancestors because she believed our people had need of me," she grinned.

"I would say I'm sorry about that, but I'm not." I smiled back just as wickedly. "I figure all of us will meet our ancestors eventually and I see no reason for any of us to rush it. Are you here to become part of my bodyguard, or are you going to do something constructive with your life?"

"I was warned by many sources that you were flippant and irreverent," her expression told me she thought that was a good thing. She was still keeping our arm-grasp.

"St. Marie has selected Rayen to be the '****'," Katrina informed me. In Old Kingdom Hittite that mean Western Head of the Queen's stables. I had a sneaking suspicion it meant more than tossing hay bales in a corral.

"That means I am in charge for the Host's fighting forces in North and Latin America," Rayen translated. "Among other things, I am in charge of training the Houses of the Host for their entry into battle. My first act was to put forth an edict forbidding anyone from taking themselves to the cliffs without my permission."

"That was nice of you," I tried to make light of her beneficence.

"My second act was to look into the mustering of all the Houses with holdings in North America. I came across two oddities: the first one stands before me and the other one is in Belize."

"With the rebirth of the Isharan House guard – you will supply the Amazon Host as required in both logistic and combat roles. I wish to make it very clear that your House Guard will be sent into the fight.

"Unlike some of my sisters, I have spent years fighting alongside Runners. What they lack in cultural expertise they make up for in ferocity. That needs to stop."

"The ferocity?" I clarified.

"Yes. We can't afford to lose them, so they will have to learn patience – with the understanding they have nothing to prove to their full-blooded sisters."

"Thankfully, we all have you as a promise that merely doing their duty will win them recognition – insane heroics not required."

"Ummm ... thank you? You're welcome?"

"Since the First Directive was promulgated, I have nominated fourteen Runners to be in my House. Not one was accepted. I am tired of that shit. If I recommend someone to House Ishara, will you be amenable?"

"Yes – with a codicil." That got her attention. She was liberal-minded, yet she was about to get steeped in even more radical thinking. "I must consult with the elders of my House before making a final decision. They have paid the price in sweat and blood to be where they are and I trust their judgment as much, if not more, than my own. It is how Ishara rolls."

"I had heard that," she gave me a feral twist of the lips. "I wasn't sure if it was the honest truth, or an attempt to personally tarnish your prestige. Three of the women I nominated are now in your House, just so we both know we are on the same page." Woot!

"Artio's loss is Ishara's gain," I grinned.

"Too true. Now to my second oddity – the one in Belize," Rayen continued.

"Sakunyias."

"Yes; better known as the Friendless," she still hadn't released my arm so I began to stroke the inner forearm with my fingertips. Hey, I had never done a chick like her before and I was more intrigued than scared ... because I'm an idiot.

"At your behest, she is raising a '****' (OKH: precise meaning was 'hand'. In context, it meant five groups of five fists.)

Amazon social groups had four members while military groups had five. Why? Everyone in a military group covered a set number of skills. A fifth member would fulfill an area of expertise they lacked, or a skill set they needed for a particular mission. Pamela had told me this. (She also told me she had continuously shed herself of the other four sent on assignments with her until the Host relented and let her fly solo.)

"Saku got her full 125? I know you are some hard-ass bitches, but serving with her is as close to being in a suicide unit as the Amazons allow," I grunted.

"She has 137. She had 142 to screen. One died and four others were too crippled to continue. The rest still seem eager enough. Now St. Marie has to figure out where to place them for the best effect."

"Until they run out of stamina, or blood, they are going to kill everything they come across," I pointed out.

"Exactly," Rayen finally let go of my arm. "I wanted to make sure we agreed on that assessment as well."

"If she survives, will she be allowed to resurrect House Anat?"

"That is for you and the rest of the Council to decide. I think your chances are good. Of the three Houses you have messed with, Ishara is a go and SzélAnya is a 'more than likely'. Normally I would find the murder of one's house head and sister to be an unforgiveable sin. Since I am dealing with you ... I won't make a wager either way."

"I like you."

"That is why I wanted you two to meet," Katrina joined the grin-fest. "Now, let's get down to business."

"As chief diplomat of the Host, I want you to arrange with the Earth & Sky for weapons shipment to North America" Rayen grew serious. "Training burns up lots of ammo and wears down the weapons. Plus, we need to seriously upgrade our stockpile of heavy weapons.

"I also want a high-level meeting with the Cult of the Jaguar. Since we share the same turf, I want a cooperative agreement on mutual defense and support."

"Huh?" I gasped in surprise.

"Can you do it?"

"That is not the issue, Rayen," Katrina snorted. "Do you realize you're the FIRST Amazon who has officially asked him to do his job? Give him a moment to get over the surprise."

I was indeed surprised. Havenstone had taught me never to stay surprised for more than a second, or bad shit would happen. So ... back to the task at hand.

"Won't there be a weapons problem? We don't use their calibers, or systems."

"Turkey and Georgia are NATO-compatible. What they don't have in their own stockpiles, or don't produce, they can get from the appropriate member nations. I haven't heard that they are under an arms embargo yet."

"Okay – on it."

"What about the Cult of the Jaguar?" Rayen proceeded.

"I already have a diplomate with what passes for a collective management of the 9 Clans. I'll get right on it. Give me three to five days. Being a group of secretive assassins, I predict they will have to mull this over before getting back to me."

"Pleasure talking to you," she finally let go of me. "Keep me informed of diplomatic developments within my jurisdiction. I look forward to meeting with you again," and off she went. Nice ass and not just for an older chick.

"Rayen was nominated for Golden Mare," Katrina mused.

"Too 'Runner' friendly?"

"Yes and she has always felt free to speak her mind. My two favorite retorts of hers were: 'that's as stupid as setting aside your shovel so you can shovel manure with your hands' and 'you are the one they kept?' (as opposed to throwing them off the cliffs for being defective at birth)."

"I'm glad she is on our side," I nodded. Katrina knew I meant both as a weapon for the Host and as a friend to Ishara's interpretation of the First Directive.

"She's been shot, stabbed or riddled with shrapnel 27 times, been declared medically dead twice, is 61 years old and I still wouldn't want to face her on a sparring mat, much less match wits with her on the battlefield," Katrina agreed. "She is also one of our best strategic minds."

Sixty-one? That meant she had fought in the last round of the Secret War. By her looks and demeanor, she was a soldier, not a sniper like Pamela. Correct that – she was an officer who planned out campaigns as well as battles, then followed through leading by example.

"Is there anything else?" I turned to Katrina.

"A few things Executive Services have come across that we want JIKIT to look into," she began. The short version: by the end of December, Havenstone was on schedule to recruit 202 Runners. Overall, the number of Amazons would fall with battle attrition. St. Marie and Katrina were okay with that.

A long, low-intensity war of attrition actually worked in the Amazon's favor. The quality of the replacements would remain high. Every Amazon was already a trained combatant. Training new recruits to that level would require two years. (Working them up to Security Detail level would take another year.) Our fanaticism would not diminish at all. No war-weariness would set in.

Despite the existence of the Golden Mare and the Council, the Amazons weren't a centralized society. Killing our leadership would be bad, but not catastrophic. The eldest surviving Amazon of each House would become the new leader and she would appoint an apprentice ... and on and on.

The 9 Clans shared in that adaptability, though they did not have the Amazon's numbers. The rest had hierarchies with some degree of infighting. This was most extreme in the Illuminati and the Seven Pillars, less so in the Condottieri and even less so in the Earth & Sky and the Egyptian Rite.

The death of Hayden exemplified that point. At the start of the war, the Amazons had lost their supreme authority and it hadn't slowed them down a bit. In contrast, the death of Cael O'Shea brought the Illuminati to the bargaining table and resulted in the 30 year truce ~ the Protocols.

We finished up our little meeting with a discussion on the Illuminati and what, if anything, the Amazons could do about them. Our plate was full fighting the Condos while aiding the 9 Clans and E&S in their war with the 7P's. Vigilance remained the watch-word. Ten minutes later, I was heading to work.

{8:58 am, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd ~ 5 Days to go; the Final Salvo ~ at this time}

I had deposited my Mother in the place I felt was safest for her – with OT (Oyuun Tömörbaatar) at the Kazakhstan's UN mission. Her being my family was what mattered to them most. I picked her up on my way to work, which made my entrance into the lobby all that much more cataclysmic.

I was traveling light with only Wiesława Živa providing me with security. Chaz, Pamela and Juanita were catching up with their sleep, with a promise of taking me out for a late lunch. That was really them telling me to not leave JIKIT until they came for me around 2:00 pm.

So anyway, me, Mom and Wiesława walked into the ground floor of the Mil Ma Towers to find eleven people waiting on us. We were in downtown Manhattan in a part of town the NYPD paid particular attention to. What could go wrong, right? Two of the people were Amazons from Havenstone. With them were two fine young men from the US 'don't make me kill you' Department. By this time in my life I was sure they had one – which no one talked about.

Five of my expectant visitors were of the same mold as those who protected Hana for me. Not the Ghost Tigers – that would have put me at ease. Sure, they were a gang of assassin and in this circumstance; I would have preferred them. As it was, ten sets of highly-trained Illuminati operative eyes kept me, my party and the four guardians of JIKIT in their overlapping fields of vision.

The last two ... were doing an impromptu family reunion. They were Aunts 'X' and 'Y', and neither of them smelled like fish, or crab.

"Aunt Deidre," I tossed out there. "What brings you here today?"

It looked like clobbering time! No. Wait. Neither Mom, nor my aunts, were saying anything and they were normally so verbose.

"Sibeal."

"Imogen."

"Sibeal, you are looking surprisingly well for a dead woman," the other one said.

"Deidre, you are looking surprisingly alive for someone who deserves to be dead," Mom bantered back.

"How long have you known about this?" Imogen's eyes flickered my way.

"Not long ... a while ... more than a day ... ah ... take your pick," I mumbled. I decided to turn that frown aka 'my gut wrenching terror that my Mother was about to die' upside down aka ramped up my sexy, 'glad to see you in a totally incestuous way'.

"So, what brings you here today and why aren't you waiting upstairs with the rest of my band of cutthroats, malcontents and ne'er do-wells? Oh, and I'm happy to see both of you." Karma was about to bitch-slap the shit out of me and it was so well deserved.

"I'm pregnant," Imogen studied my reaction. Yeah ... I had banged her after Deidre, but before Baibre because I am a fucking reprehensible human being and sometimes, I feel I am utterly irredeemable.

"Great news," I exhaled. I so wanted to ask 'so, who is the father?' except that was too cruel, even for an O'Shea.

No one stopped me from stepping up and hugging her. Everyone in the lobby had heard her loud and clear. Anyone who knew me, or even about me, knew she wasn't passing on the information because Imogen liked sharing good news. I kept my hands on her hips while I leaned my torso back until we could make eye contact.

"Does Granddad know?" It occurred to me in that second that Pamela was going to kick herself for missing this and the opportunity to kick me as well.

"I told him over the phone. His reaction was neutral," she responded.

"Whoa ... girl? Boy? How are you doing? When are we going to sit down and figure out a name? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Come home with me," she suggested.

"No," Mom snapped. "Next time he steps into your custody, we all know you won't let him get away." She meant the plane trip to Ireland.

"No, Mom," I countered. "I'm a grown man now and I make my own decisions. That being said – no, I'm not going home with you."

"Not only am I still in love with the concept of my personal freedom, I have important work to do. People are counting on me."

"We are counting on you too," Deidre stated. "In fact, that is the other reason we came here. We need you."

"Why do I feel that has to do with something besides sex?"

"Can we talk to you in private?" Imogen requested. There were a thousand and one reasons to say 'no'. Things like 'common sense', bad behavior – they had murdered my homicidal uncle – and the fact they were as morally twisted as their creator. Oh – and they were hot and I hadn't been laid in FOREVER.

"Sure. Let's go upstairs. You can have your people sweep the room to ensure our privacy then the four of us can sit down and have a family chat," I offered.

"We don't want her in the room," Deidre indicated Mom.

"We are a package deal," I denied her. "Like her, or not, she is as much family to me as you both are."

They consented far too fast. Either I was falling into their masterful trap, or something horrible had happened. Neither options was palatable to me. The bodyguards departed, Wiesława last of all.

"What's gone wrong?" Mom preempted me. Her sisters glared.

"Father's body is not his own," Imogen told us. I was trying to figure out the relevance of that when Mom gasped.

"Oh fuck," she said in a small voice. "No serum?" Oh yeah, the refinement of those addictive pheromones Grandpa Cáel had gifted me with. Whatever flesh-form he currently inhabited wasn't one containing his genetic make-up meaning ...

"Oh shit," I mumbled. "What can I do?"

"Yes," Deidre replied to Mom.

"Let them die," Mom insisted (to me). Less I forget, she was raised by Grandpa Cáel too. Her being a loving mother to me didn't translate over to her being a humanitarian of any kind.

"The Hell you say," I jumped up and stared down at Mom. "You hate them. I don't. Letting them die makes me worse than HIM." Grandpa.

"So you will help us?" Deidre moved to the edge of her seat.

"Okay. This is the point where I threaten you into making some concessions, we argue then you eventually cave in because no matter how terrible your futures look, you aren't willing to give up on living. None of that is going to happen. What do you need from me?"

"Come back with us to Ireland so we can finish our experiments," Imogen joined me in standing. Unwilling to give her sister any physical advantage, Mom stood as well.

"No. That isn't even a believable lie," I scolded her. "You don't need to blackmail me into helping you. I'll do it gladly. That doesn't mean I'll let you trick me into doing something stupid. I do 'stupid' all the time. I'm accustomed to it and I know it when its ugly head rises up before me. Try again."

"We could pick a neutral location," Deidre suggested.

"How about Havenstone?" They didn't look like that plan was even worthy of their consideration. "Imogen, inside you is growing a possible heir to House Ishara. An attack on you would be an attack on Ishara. Barring you betraying the Amazons, you would be perfectly safe."

"Wonderful," Mom's sarcasm dripped off every word. "I'm going to be a grandmother to my nephew while my son is bringing a child into the world that can double as his cousin."

"That sound pretty horrible, Mom. It is the truth, but it still sounds pretty terrible."

While those words tumbled out of my mouth, I did a little soul back-searching. How in the fuck was – outside of the actual fucking – was Imogen pregnant? My existence was a freaking fluke of nature. A few words were bandied about the room while I was lost in deductive reasoning and turning hunches into assumptions and turning those into reasonable mystic hypotheses.

I created the Mojo-Little Engine that thought it could. Specifically, the legacy of Vranus. Legions of little Vranusian sperm had been jumping hurdle after hurdle to keep the faith alive – that Vranus would meet his Ancestors with his mission accomplished. I was already half way there.

Still, the legacy of Vranus and the hopes of Dot Ishara hadn't stopped in their struggle just because I had been born. They were still trying to restore the mortal descendants of a Dead House. They were also still spiritually pushing me on to fulfill his last command – to save the Arinniti sons.

I was halfway there by returning the offspring of Bolu, Vranus' fellow guardian, back to the fold. It remained for me to round up the purpose of the whole mission in the first place. My semen weren't taking a chance that I could get gakked before that was accomplished. Having knocked up an augur despite the toxic soup she called blood should have been a dire warning to me ... I'm an idiot.

When the curse of Sarrat Irkalli clashed with the actions of Dot Ishara, Ishara had won. Sarrat Irkalli sought to deny Alal any children of his own. Dot was insisting the male line of Vranus Ishara continue on. The end result was Alal received his long-denied grandson ... who just happened to also want him dead because of a feud that stretched back over two millennia.

As an added insult, his grandson then knocked up one of Alal's genetically manipulated daughters ... again giving him something he couldn't accomplish on his own – heirs – grand-sons and –daughters, most who would also want to kill him, being Amazons and members of the 9 Clans after all. Why? Cause Goddesses are bitches, that's why.

That got me to wondering when would be the next time I was going to meet Ishara. I hadn't suffered severe head trauma in while and she was overdue for some snuggle time, witty banter and a fortune cookie. I'd try to be careful. It wouldn't do any good, but I had to try.

"Why are you crying?" Mom touched my arm.

"No reason," I lied.

"Why don't we make plans for tonight?" Deidre insinuated herself next to me. "We'd like to meet Hana. From what I understand, Father likes her."