Lost at Sea Bk. 02 Ch. 20

"Yeah. It's not much fun," Caine said.

"Why does it happen?" Alexandra asked.

Caine's golden twin answered. "Because of how your Sight interacts with my metaphysical presence."

"Being observed is all it takes to force you to separate?" Alexandra asked.

"More like being observed forces me to pick between being separated and being together. As uncomfortable as separate is, forced together is worse. Imagine being locked in a trunk with another person, and every sound echoes, and you can't uncross your eyes," Caine explained.

"This is difficult to follow," Alexandra admitted, struggling to conceptualize what they... no- what he was telling her. "How did it happen?"

"What do you know about possession?" Caine asked.

"Which kind? There are a number of types," Alexandra asked.

"The usual kind," Caine said. "A demon wearing someone like a raincoat."

"Demonic domination," Alexandra tilted her head in thought, surprised at what seemed like a non-sequitur. "It is rare. Usually the final stage of demonic infestation. It is a... parasitism of the soul. After a protracted spiritual battle, the host becomes unable to resist the demon's presence any longer. The entity enters the host bodily, and overrides the host's will. Through that, a possessing entity can use the body like a puppet. However, it is... imprecise. Where the soul can directly interact with the body it resides in, a possessor has to command the soul to command the body. Even the most weakened soul tends to fight the invading entity, so full, overriding possession is rare."

"Alright, now what about the other kind?' Caine asked.

"What other kind," Alexandra raised an eyebrow, worried about where these questions were going.

"The willing kind," Caine said simply.

Alexandra pursed her lips in disapproval. "Diabolism. I'd rather not speak of it, but the short description is, it is when some misguided fool deliberately invites a demon in."

"That's good enough," Caine said, holding up a hand. "What do you think would happen if one of those Chimeric kids got possessed?"

Alexandra's mouth opened, but she said nothing for a moment. The whole question was simply bizarre. "They have two souls... so only one of them would be possessed? I honestly have no idea."

"Last question," Caine said. "Do you know how Holy Vessels work?"

"Of course I do, that was the first thing I..." Alexandra's eyes slowly went wide. "I think I understand where you are going. This borders on Heresy."

Caine snorted. "Now maybe. Sure didn't used to be."

"So you're a Holy Vessel with two souls?" Alexandra didn't believe the words coming out of her own mouth."

"No," Caine shook her head. "Close enough though."

"This is... complicated. Why? What is the point? Why would the Magistrate do this?" Alexandra asked.

"What's the point of Holy Vessels?" Caine asked rhetorically.

"To give an Angel a voice. To allow us to speak directly with the most divine servants of the Warden," Alexandra said, not really following.

"And the Vessels themselves. What happens to them?" Caine asked.

"They... are martyrs," Alexandra said sadly. "The body and mind are put under tremendous strain by allowing their body to be entered by an angel. Most can only do it for a short time, and all eventually go mad or die."

"That's true of all possession," Caine nodded. "The soul isn't meant to be used that way."

"It isn't possession!" Alexandra snapped. "Being a Vessel is voluntary! No angel would ever force themselves upon someone."

"True," Caine's golden twin said silently.

"You think getting permission changes the toll it takes?" the other Caine asked. "It's still possession, trust me."

"That is blasphemy," Alexandra said flatly.

"Fine. I'll accept that charge for the sake of getting on with this," Caine sighed. "How about we just say that being a Holy Vessel takes a toll on the mind and body that is similar to possession?"

"Fine, I will concede that the physical and mental side effects can be similar," Alexandra said, clearly not happy with the direction the conversation had taken.

"So again, what do you think would happen if a Chimeric person got possessed?" Caine asked.

"I have no idea," Alexandra shrugged. "I suspect you can tell me."

"Chimeric people are used to having an extra soul," Caine said. "A possessing entity can't just override the body or mind. It becomes a sort of... partnership."

"Symbiosis," Alexandra nodded, following along.

"Good word for it,' Caine agreed. "The point is, Chimeric vessels don't burn out."

"Why have I never heard of this?" Alexandra's face twisted into confusion and disbelief. "This seems like the sort of thing that could change the entire structure of the church."

"It did,' Caine said. "We're pretty damn rare to begin with, and then we had to be found and... indoctrinated."

"Must you?" Alexandra admonished.

Caine looked at her incredulously. "Yeah. I must. This is my fucking life I'm talking about. Your church isn't all hymns and charity work. They have done things that would make any diabolist look like a choir boy."

Alexandra opened her mouth to protest, but Caine cut her off.

"To me, Alexandra. They did horrible shit to me, and I did horrible shit in their name. Because they told me to. Don't even try to tell me I don't understand. Your Magistrate? Today's church? It's built on a history of blood, and most of it came out of people who didn't deserve what happened to them," Caine's expression was fiercer than she'd ever seen, so Alexandra wisely kept her opinions to herself.

"Continue," she said. "About the Chimeric Vessels."

"There were never very many of us," Caine said after a moment to collect himself. "But we sure did change the church. Think of everything that's happened in the last two hundred years or so. The church went from being one of many religious institutions ministering to the people, to the Magistrate."

"And you think that is because of you?" Alexandra asked, skeptical.

"Directly," Caine nodded.

"And there are others like you? How many? Why was I never told?" Alexandra was still grappling with the weight of what Caine had told her, and the enormity of the cover up.

"I think you were, you just didn't know what you were being told," Caine shrugged.

Alexandra gave him a long look. "Speak plainly."

Caine held her eyes and spoke slowly. "There were a hundred of us,"

Alexandra's eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh my."

______________

Will blotted his face and chest dry with his shirt as he walked back to the tent he was sharing with Bella. The cold water of the lagoon had been brisk enough to take the sweltering mugginess out of the warm summer night. It was good to feel clean again.

His injured hand throbbed. Keeping the bandages dry while he bathed hadn't been easy. Whatever the doc had put on it had definitely helped cut the pain and swelling, but it had clearly worn off. Still, he'd expected worse. Bites never healed comfortably. Bella's healing ritual had gotten rid of the rope burns and most of the smaller scrapes and bruises, but the bite had been too severe for her magic to do much about. At least the rum he'd drank at the wake was dulling the ache.

As he neared the tents, he heard the muffled sounds of a woman's pleasure, just for a moment. A small inhaled gasp, and an exhaled moan of pent up tension. His brows furrowed. He knew that gasp. He also knew the tent next to his instantly, even in the dark. He'd spent countless nights in it. He'd sewed up a few tears in it himself.

He'd been able to mostly ignore the knot of tangled emotions that welled up inside him whenever he dealt with Jack, but unexpectedly finding her tent next to his, and hearing the sounds of her passion, were too much.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. Who's idea was it to put their tents together? Was he seriously going to have to listen to her and Quinn going at it? He knew she had more sense than that. She wasn't an exhibitionist at all. When it came to displays of sexuality, she was practically prudish. They'd discussed it a few times, and he knew she and Bella used to argue about it fairly frequently. Bella used to try to get Jack to show off, but Jack was always adamant. She called it 'decorum."

Will knew that if Jack was going to be having sex, she'd make sure it was as private as possible, so all he could guess was that what she was doing was deliberate. Why would she do that? Was she actually trying to upset him? She was prone to picking fights sometimes, but this didn't seem like her style.

He stood outside the tents for a minute, trying to process what was happening, and how he felt about it. He found himself thankful that the tent was thick enough, and the lantern inside low enough, that he couldn't make out her silhouette.

He was angry, but he couldn't really place why. They'd never been in a relationship. She'd been his friend, and his partner, and while they'd slept together often, they'd always been very clear about maintaining their independence. They'd both had other lovers, and neither of them was the jealous type.

So why was he mad now?

He found himself wanting to do something to disrupt her lovemaking, just to be petty, but he gritted his teeth and pushed those thoughts aside. He didn't really want to make her pay, especially considering that she wasn't really doing anything wrong, he just wanted to not care about it.

Why did he care? What had changed? Was it just the surprise of it? There was a lot of bitterness and frustration growing as he stood there. That wasn't all though. Heartache was in there too. Loss. Mourning. Nostalgia.

He hadn't seen their tents next to each other like that since they'd been on their first expedition together. They'd spent hours laying next to each other, only the two thin walls of the tent separating them, talking. They'd started out as rivals, but quickly became partners, then friends, then lovers. They'd never needed both their tents since.

Until now.

Seeing the two tents next to each other was a brutal reminder of how much they'd lost. They were practically strangers again. He'd been hoping for some kind of reconciliation, but they were both such different people now. Was it even possible? She couldn't give him answers, but she had finally given him an apology. Was it enough? Could it really ever be enough?

He wanted it to be, but it clearly wasn't enough yet.

Was he jealous? He presumed it was Quinn in there with her. Did that matter?

"Fuck," he repeated, less fiercely this time.

He hated jealousy. It was poison. It never brought anything but pain, and it ran completely against everything he thought love should be. Jealousy was the desire for control. It was the antithesis of love. It always came from wants or expectations that were full of problems.

So what was his problem?

As soon as he asked himself the question, it was obvious, and just made him mad at himself.

He wished it was him in there with her.

He rolled his eyes at himself. After so long trying to shed his feelings for Jack, trying to let go, trying not to care, all it took was hearing her moan once and suddenly he was all tangled up again. He wanted her. He hated wanting her. He felt like an idiot.

Then he heard another moan of female pleasure. Lower. Throatier.

Bella.

Was she in Jack's tent? That idea made him a little angry too. Not really because he felt jealous, but because it made him feel like the rug had been pulled out from under him. Bella was sometimes impulsive, and tended to think that sex could solve everything, but this was different. She'd been very clear about what she wanted, and how she planned to get it. They were on the same page about how to handle the situation with Jack, or, at least that's what he'd thought.

He heard Bella moan again and realized it was coming from his tent. Then he heard a muffled laugh. A third woman. One he didn't recognize.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

His frustration and anger subsided as bewilderment took over.

The sounds of pleasure continued from both tents as he stood there in the dark wondering what was going on. To his surprise, in spite of the bizarre array of emotions moving through him, he found himself becoming aroused. He adjusted his pants and wondered if he should leave.

"When will he be here?" the third woman asked in a muffled voice.

"Whenever the wake is done, I suppose. Why? Are you anxious or excited?" Bella asked, half-tease, half-worried.

"A bit of both," the woman admitted.

He knew that voice. Her accent was unmistakable. What was Doctor Kalfou doing in his tent?

"Sure, you, that he will be alright with this?" the doctor asked.

"Pretty sure. I know he's attracted to you. That's obvious," Bella teased. "I'll just ask really nicely when he shows up."

The doctor laughed. "Quite convincing, you."

Will rubbed his face with his hand. He should have known this was one of Bella's schemes. He started silently laughing, in spite of himself.

"Are you almost ready?" Jack's voice asked from the other tent. "I'm growing rather tired of this waiting."

"We're almost done. Just two more lines to draw. We just... got distracted," Bella snickered.

"You have two minutes, and then I'm starting without you," Jack said.

"I love it when she gets bossy," Bella muttered to her companion.

Whatever conflict and anger Will had been feeling had mostly bottled itself back up again. There was too much here to interest him. Hearing Bella and Jack tease each other had been strangely compelling. It was comfortable and familiar, and gave him hope for himself. Then there was the mystery of whatever Bella was orchestrating this for. He wanted to know.

The doctor's involvement was the real clincher. Bella was right. He was very attracted to her, and didn't want to let his bizarre tangle of feelings about Jack get in the way of an opportunity to explore that.

Then the second thought hit. Without the anger, he was able to more easily think about the bigger picture. He could imagine a hundred different ways this situation could become awful. It was exactly the kind of precarious thing that his curse was prone to making worse. He wondered if he should just walk away and go sleep on the beach. That would be the safe thing to do.

Bella gasped and giggled again, and Will paused. She was like a compass. Sometimes following where she pointed was hard, but she always pointed him the right way.

He took the last few steps toward the tent and pulled back the flap.

______________

"I really appreciate this, Mister Kaduska," Janie said as she accepted his hand and sat up from the canvas sack she'd spent the last hour hiding in.

"Oh, my pleasure, my dear. Anything for you, you know that," The big merchant grinned. "Besides, any opportunity to be a thorn in the side of the Teach gang is one I'll take."

Janie swung her legs off the table Kaduska had set her down on, and let the rest of the canvas bag fall away as she stood up. She looked around. It hadn't been long since she'd been here, but it felt like ages.

The lighthouse smelled simultaneously musty and smokey. Everything was still a bit damp from the torrent of conjured rain her Wards had created, and the scorch marks were still on the floor where the burning goo had stuck to it.

How long had it been since those pirates had taken her hostage right in this room? She'd lost track. Two weeks? Two lifetimes? It was amazing how quickly things change.

"This is where Will lives?" Tonya said, pulling herself out of her own sack and looking around with a look of mild disgust on her face. "I mean, i guess I've lived in worse places, but I kinda expected more. Will seems so refined."

Janie burst out laughing, then covered her mouth and coughed. "Excuse me."

Tonya gave her a confused look. "What?"

Janie and Kaduska looked at each other, amused. Janie sighed. Kaduska grinned. "Miss Tonya, you are a gem."

"What!?" Tonya demanded, pulling herself the rest of the way out of her bag and hopping off the table to look around. "He always dresses nice, and smells nice, but doesn't wear gaudy stuff or talk down to folks. You work for him, and you're the most refined person I know. He's like one of those gentleman adventurers from the penny dreadfuls."

"I am sure he would be happy to hear you say so," Kaduska chuckled, heading back to the door to bring more things in. Caine, wearing a cowled cloak, came in carrying a box. He set it down on the table and walked back outside.

"When I first met Will, this place was in worse shape than it is now. He had a black eye and a hangover, and had clearly not bathed in at least a week. Honestly, I thought he was a squatter. He was exactly the kind of person I would have expected to find in a run down lighthouse," Janie said with a small, apologetic shrug.

"Only a week? That's pretty refined by my standards," Tonya snickered.

"Oh dear," Janie said with a bat of cringe. "I forget about that sometimes."

Tonya fluffed her expensive looking saloon dress. "Sounds like the disguise is working."

Caine came in again, dropping off a second box next to the third.

"We are still going to have to work on your definition of refinement," Jaine teased.

Tonya started wandering around the room, looking closer at Will's collection of books, charts, and knick knacks. "Well, if it ain't you or Will, I don't know who's left to be an example.. Seems like slim pickings in Bastard's Bay. I guess you'll have to do if I'm going to learn, right?"

"Well that's true," Janie sighed. "I suppose here, the most refined person I can think of is Prelate Alexandra."

Caine snorted as he dropped off a third box. "You can put a bear in silk and lace, but it's still a bear."

Janie gave Caine a flat, disapproving look. "Lesson one. Do not take his word on what refinement is. He has none."

"What is all this stuff?" Tonya asked, picking up a small stone statuette that had been carved into the vague shape of a curvaceous woman holding an orb over her head.

"Keepsakes from Will's adventures," Janie said, opening up one of the boxes Caine had brought in.

"She's got tits that would make Bella jealous," Tonya said, turning the statuette sideways.

"Lesson two, refined people do not say 'tits.'" Janie said, trying to sound admonishing but not really succeeding due to holding in her laughter.

Tonya put the statue back and picked up a strange looking brass contraption. "What's better? Jugs? Boobs?"

"I always liked bosoms," Caine said as he brought in another box.

"Very helpful," Janie said dryly. She was simultaneously uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had gone, and also a bit amused by it. Her amusement surprised her. A few weeks ago she would have been appalled. "A refined person does not speak on such topics at all, and if they must, the most polite term is breasts."

Tonya looked from Janie's chest to her own. "You might have breasts. Pretty sure mine are just tits."

Janie's mouth opened in a silent 'O' of sympathy and heartbreak. She had no idea what to say. "Oh, Tonya. Don't talk like that. I- I think you have lovely breasts."

"Me too," Caine grunted, dropping off the last box.

"Likewise," Kaduska added, shutting the door as he came back in.

Janie and Tonya both blushed for very different reasons.

"Gentlemen! I-" Janie started, but was cut off by Tonya.

"Aw, thanks guys. It's hard working at Mary's sometimes. The only ones with smaller tits than me are the boys," She tapped her lips in thought for a moment. "Actually, pretty sure Chrissy's are bigger'n mine."

"Chrissy ain't a boy," Caine said.

"I mean, he's awful pretty, but I've seen his dick," Tonya said, giving Caine a doubtful look.

"You've seen her dick," Caine corrected.

Tonya blinked. "Wait. But he-"