The Jim Morrison Heist Pt. 02

Like a fool Jallen Delete dropped a bundle on a Brioni suit.

He'd adopted tweed for his summer job at the Magick College to project a scholarly image. Any soiree at Runesgate Manor was special, and he wanted to dress that way. Zoey could not help but approve. He now knew she was none too keen on the way he kitted himself out. He had a game to play at college, not ruffling any tail feathers of resident strutting peacocks. With few exceptions like Zoey, he left all birds alone and did his best to get along with the students and staff. Zoey was serious and bright, she disliked pretentious people who put on airs. Hogfarts was full of that. Now that he knew her Zoey seemed more adult than most of the rest in his classes.

Jallen could still slide the panties off most female student admirers if so inclined (or so he thought) but unsurprisingly they all lacked in worldly experience. He desired a little intelligent conversation between all the heart stopping sexual interaction. None of the other girls had Zoey's good looks either, or her goddess body. Jallen also sensed none of his groupies capable of keeping him interested long, in or out of bed.

She and he had only seen each other in class since the rainstorm, keeping a discreet distance in order not to draw attention to any kind of relationship they might have. Girls still gathered around his desk after the lesson and he sighed when Zoey left the room each day. Although Jallen still enjoyed the attention of his groupies, as Zoey liked to refer to them, he thought about her more than he cared to admit to himself. What man wouldn't? The fact they would attend a party together cheered him. When they talked on the phone at night she always sounded genuinely eager and engaged. He reminded himself not to get too serious about Zoey each time she invaded his daydreams.

The day of the night of the summer solstice affair Zoey told him on the phone, "Don't fret over appearances and pick me up at my grandmother's."

"You've not let her know you're going out with one of your teachers, have you?" he asked.

"No, not that I care," Zoey blustered. "She won't be anywhere near the house anyhow. Her Seven Suits club meets on Saturday nights. Granny's turn to host was last week, so she'll be out of here by six. The old girls usually sup at The Hare & Half Moon, have a little natter before adjourning to one of their cottages. Who knows where they're breaking out the cards this evening."

"Seven Suits, eh? Never have understood the game."

"Neither would I if granny hadn't taught me. I've been playing Seven Suits since I was a kid."

"Are you any good?"

A low sexy laugh purred over the line in his ear. "Assuming you don't know how to play I'm at least good enough to take your money."

"I'll bet, but not against you. What's a good time to pick you up then?"

"No later than eight, I'd say. Distrikt 33 is an hour's drive from 14."

"Not if we take my helicopter."

"Tell me you're joking."

"Actually the bloody thing's been grounded. No rotors."

"How disappointing. If we were going on a regular date and not to a costume party it would take me no time to get ready. We could give my mattress a bounce too before dinner and a film. As it is I'm undergoing elaborate costuming preparations for Lady Rowling-Boyle. Or more honest, I'm dressing up for you."

"You got my heart beating like twelve drummers drumming now. What kind of costume, love?"

"Ohh no you don't. Tell me what you're going as? The man in tweed?"

"You spoiled my surprise," he sniffed. "The only clue I can give is I've decided against a Derby. Other than that, Zoey, top secret."

"Same here, so no more questions. Women should keep their men guessing, don't you think?"

Jallen dodged the question. "It always seems that way to me."

He parked under the oak at five till eight. Zoey must've been looking out the window, before he rang the bell she opened the door. She hid behind it with only her face in view. Her eyes stunned him, twice the size than when she sat in a desk at Hogfarts. The eye shadow must've taken hours and been applied by an artist, bubble gum pink with a stark edge of yellow closest to the bridge of her nose. Sprinkled glitter dotted her skin from the far corner of each eye to the tops of her made-up cheekbones (soft red) that deliberately crossed over the line of tasteful into slutty garishness. Pink lip gloss made her mouth seem fuller than normal, her pout advertising it craved more than an ice lolly to put in it. Zoey's heart shaped face alone could stop his own heart at fifty feet.

The majority of her long blonde hair hung in two thick braids, one on each naked shoulder. Both plaits were decorated with two small ribbon bows apiece, one powder blue, the other pink. One rubber band secured the end of each braid, one pink, one blue. Long unbraided tendrils of hair twisted together drooped down both sides of her head, a mixture of untidy perfection and cosmopolitan sexy. Zoey wore no earrings or jewelry but a black velvet choker accented the whiteness of her neck. A sheer bone white minidress left most of her breasts bare and hugged her curves from beneath her arms just down to the bottom of her bottom. Jallen could effortlessly distinguish the division between the individual cheeks of her ass through the dress, the colour of her nipples and the blue bikini panties sunk between her clenched thighs. Strategic circles cut out of the material left her vulnerable tummy bare in front and displayed her dimples of Venus in back. She lurched around in with high platform soled rubber shoes a brighter red than her cheekbones.

"Fuckin' hell, Zoey. You've pulled off the naive little lady look, above your kissable neck anyway. If not for your gravity defying chest protectors and black girl ass I'd mistake you for someone younger."

She stuck her pierced tongue out at him. "That's not nice, professor, but spoken somewhat like a poet. I can judge the overall effect anyway just by reading your dick-o-meter approval rating myself." She cupped his genitals through the front of his silk trousers. "Mmm, the highest ranking possible, the 'hard as Chinese arithmetic' category," she murmured. Her eyes got real wide when she first noticed a change in him for the first time. "Look at you. Mister Shave-and-a-Haircut-Six-Bits. Without the sidies you changed your face."

"Is it not just new, but improved?" he wanted to know.

"To tell the truth, yeah, I think so."

"Really now?" he glowed.

He was fishing for a compliment and she gave it to him. "You look more modern, younger. That's a helluva Brioni suit, tapered sleeves and trouser legs. No pinstripes, no pleats, good good. Are you masquerading as a banker or something?"

"Or something I guess. I'll put a mask on before we go inside. Shame, this suit cost as much as a car. What do you call your costume? Virgin sacrifice?"

"Bloodthirsty cultists please check your sacrificial daggers at the door. I lost my eligibility a while ago."

"You could still pass for a virgin."

"Poppycock, to quote my granny, and get on with yourself. Only way I'd pass would be if you performed the hymen exam. Takes just two fingers."

"Happy to lend a hand if the need arises."

"We'll talk about what arises after the party."

"I don't even want to go now. You look good enough to eat y'know."

"I'd let you if I hadn't just spent two hours slaving over a hot mirror." She touched a playful fingertip to her lips and struck a pose. "And what about your decadently expensive new suit? You've dressed to impress so why would you want to waste the effect? Your loins are girded in Brioni armour for entering high society, not a Wellie toss behind a fucking pub. People you'll likely meet tonight are astronomically wealthy and politically expedient, a common recurring link. Whatever the ramifications, at least you're dressed for the occasion."

"If I crash and burn I've kept the receipt," he said, "I can always return the bloody suit before month's end."

"It is unfortunate to have prearranged plans, but we can't let down Lady Anyys now can we. Ready?"

"Nuisance," he muttered under his breath.

"Let me get my purse and the lights and we'll dash."

Zoey sat next to him in the front seat of his Cadillac. The trip to Far Owls took an hour. She didn't sit pressed up against him like before. A car blanket in the middle of the bench seat divided them, she'd have moved it if she wanted. He'd set it out on purpose.

"Why have you got the rug in here?" she asked. "It's June, the summer solstice and all that."

"It's for you to wrap up in when we get stopped at a checkpoint."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"You know how those buggers are with their torches, especially after dark. Just one glimpse of that dress and they'll be lighting you up like a Christmas tree for a closer inspection. Or pat you down on the pretext of hunting for a bomb or an itty bitty Beretta or whatever they can think of to take issue with."

"I don't give a shit if they see me in this dress. Everyone at the party's going to."

"Now where do you think they'd want to look? Beautiful woman cavity search are four of their favorite words."

"I didn't think of that. Well done, suh."

"The M1 to Far Owls involves at least two stops. The blighters always have checkpoints at the entrances and exits. See what I mean, here's the first."

Jallen queued up behind all the other cars. Zoey threw the blanket over her legs without another word. When it finally got to be his and her turn the soldiers swarmed round Jallen's old Cadillac like ants on a sugar hill. They spotted Zoey in the front seat under wraps and told them both to step out of the car. Only when they ran out of excuses to gape at her did they consent to let the Cadillac onto the M1. Checkpoints were everyday routine not worth wasting much conversation on.

Back on the road Jallen muttered, "I remember a time you didn't have to go through that."

"I don't."

He drove some more and asked, "Are your hands cold?"

"Not tonight, I've had them under a blanket. Besides it's not raining."

"You never know, the skies are dark and look pregnant with rain."

"Whether they're expecting or not, professor, the skies are dark with night."

"Will you be calling me professor at the party?"

"I better not, but I will rename you Sir Dickie Darling."

"Boo, hiss. I would remind you of my no clothes in the car rule."

"You told me the rules yourself, Dickie. That one only applies in the backseat."

"Right you are. There are no rules against touching, particularly during a lengthy and uneventful journey not unlike the one upon which we're now embarked. If you're so inclined you may fondle the chap behind the wheel or sit in his lap without reprisal on the road to Runesgate."

Zoey gave him a familiar fond squeeze.

He groaned, "Right, much better now, but mind how attached I am to it."

She groaned back. "That's so old you should sack your gag writer. It might well amuse me seeing you walking funny tonight."

"Yes, but you'd be the one walking funny tomorrow."

"That is so romantic, Sir Dickie. At least I'll be smiling."

"I hope silk doesn't stain as badly as corduroy."

"Let your dry cleaner worry about it."

"You could at least unzip my trousers if you're going to keep on doing that."

"But you might never get them zipped back up."

"A capital idea. Want to be sure to make a good first impression on Lady Anyys tonight."

"You told me she was a Black Veil vampire. If you go in there with your naked dick at full staff you're endangering yourself. Milady may instead want to suck something other than your neck." She laughed out loud. "You can't afford that to happen."

"Point taken although you have permission to nibble all you like. If you ease my burden I can be at full zip prior to our arrival."

"Just when I thought I'd make your dry cleaner rich."

The joke no sooner left her mouth when Jallen started to laugh but ended up snorting. "Oh no, not another."

She started to ask what was wrong and saw the queue of stopped cars not far ahead. Checkpoint numero two. Again she folded the car blanket around her. These soldiers weren't as nosey as the first, but the stop added another quarter of an hour to their journey. They drove the rest of the way in silence until the Far Owls exit sign became visible. From that point Zoey gave him precise driving directions.

"A right off the ramp and keep straight on that little road."

He drove them bumping down a country lane. After two miles he asked, "You're certain I'm going the right way? I don't see a sign of any gate. No mansion either."

"You won't you know, the Rowling-Boyle compound is subterranean."

"Seriously? Runesgate Manor is underground?"

"Uh-huh, totally. And circular too, all the walls inside are curved, not a flat one in the place."

"Cor blimey! What about the doors then? They're curved too?"

"No, curved doors would be awkward. No, doors are doors, they're flat but set into thick frames that stick out of each side of the wall. Imagine a rectangle peg in a rectangular hole in spite of surface curvature."

"How idiosyncratic Inbreeding not yet gone off the deep end."

Zoey's breasts bounced delightfully when she had a good laugh. She caught every nuance, Jallen always kept his wits sharp around her. "Wait till you see for yourself, professor, it's an odd but marvelous construction."

"I'm reminded of my weak spot for things marvelously constructed."

"Get your eyes off my tits and get them back on the road. Chas Park is dead ahead, starboard turn now."

Jallen clicked his signal indicator and drove off the lane onto a beaten path meandering through a field. He did know sorcerer strongholds often are circular dwellings. Any professor lecturing at a magick college like Hogfarts had to be a magical to some small degree, if not a full blown wizard like Ms. Gape. Flighty woman, slightly off in her gulliver and prone to leaping onto paths not taken, opposite what people expect. Her powers were phenomenal. Some said Guerlain Gape could relocate a mountain in the Himalayans next door to the Sphinx. Jallen's own magical credentials never came up with Zoey, not yet anyway. He kept his own secrets, and would've been a fool to think other than she did the same.

"I thought Chas Park would be more illustrious than this, there's no sign and no cars. There should be black SUVs, flying carpets and limos everywhere. This is supposed to be a party. Either it's not very well attended or we're hours early. Where should I dock this yacht?"

"I dunno, stay on the pathway."

Had the bright full moon not been a giant yellow orb in the heavens seemingly close enough to touch Jallen wondered if he'd've been able to see to navigate. "You visited here a few times, what did you do then? Parachute in?"

"The comedian who never sleeps, but you're in luck. Do you see that gypsy wagon dead ahead on top of the grassy knoll?"

He said he did.

"There'll be a gatekeeper inside. He will be obliged to direct us to the nearest parking garage."

"If there's more than one I don't see any of them. If dear Runesgate Manor is underworld it must have the most dismal view of any mansion in the ten figure range."

"Now that you say it Lady Anyys does spend a tidy sum on curtains. There are windows behind them, but not any you can see out of. You might get your eyeballs fried in their sockets if you could." Zoey the poet just painted a word picture not lost on him.

He dismissed it. "Milady surely makes up for it in lawn maintenance and window cleaning to balance the costs of excess drapery. Is it always dark inside, save the odd candle and oil lamp?" Suddenly a stream of mental dots connected for him. "There might be something in that vampire business after all. Vampires die in sunlight."

"Will you relax? The Rowling-Boyles have electricity, running water too. If they can afford acres of curtains they can afford all mod cons as well."

"You don't have to be an accountant to know it costs plenty to light up a pile large enough to be deemed a manor. Hope it's not overrun with creepy crawlies, cobwebs, ghosts and vampires."

"Be serious for a change, it's not a haunted fucking house."

"I am being serious. Have you seen their dungeon?"

"Stop it!" Zoey demanded, tits bobbing. "Runesgate is as lavish as a palace inside, and well lighted. Spotless too, Anyys is dreadfully OCD."

"Who'd have thought it? Have you ever seen her in the daytime?"

"A sensible and fair question. Now that I recollect it always has been after dark, at a dinner or party, some sort of affair this time of night."

"Then reconsider the rumors I heard about Black Veils and vampires then factor Lady Anyys into the equation. How old is she any way?"

"130 years at least," she joked. "She's been older than Cleopatra since I first met her."

"All the legends say vampires are ageless."

Zoey sat thoughtful for a moment in the moonlit front seat of the car. "On every occasion I've been here I never gave a thought to vampirism, but the connection is there if you look at it like that."

"Or she could just sleep in late. Another thing, Zoey, this is a summer solstice shindig, but I guess a sun is unnecessary for a nocturnal ball."

"One would suppose. Maybe the full moon is standing in. Now don't expect any Maypoles or wood nymphs fluttering about inside. I take back that last bit, maybe a gaggle of nymphs will flit among the costumes and sorcerers and grand ladies in attendance."

"Sounds more like Halloween than a midsummer party. Good thing I brought a mask."

Zoey pointed out Halloween has pagan origins as do both solstices. Oh, she was quick. Smarter than he was at her age. Surely she wasn't a magician or a witch--not and still be a schoolgirl in college. He braked to a stop and put the car in park, headlamps shining on the brightly painted wagon in the middle of moonlit nowhere. Jallen surveyed their surroundings waiting for the parking attendant to poke his head out.

"This is a bleedin' pasture, Zoey. Farmland as far as my eye can see."

"You don't see any crop circles, do you?"

"Aren't you a caution," he was saying when the back door of the gypsy wagon sprang open. "Is this our guy?"

"That's him, the astral gypsy, gatekeeper of Runesgate Manor."

The man had on raiment of so many tacky mismatched hues Jallen thought the chap might be colour blind. He didn't mention it to Zoey. In between the gypsy's short scarlet leather boots and the tie-dyed pirate's bandanna wrapped around his head he wore loose fitting pants with vertical purple and yellow stripes and a short lavender vest over a tessellated orange and black bell sleeved shirt with collar points that touched his breastbone. An intimidating scimitar thrust into the lime green sash around his waist indicated he may not be in a costume. The edged weapon did not look ceremonial or like a prop. Neither did the over-and-under 12 gauge he clutched in his right fist. The astral gypsy rocked a fierce forked beard without a moustache. His mouth resembled a knife slash that hadn't started to bleed yet. Glassy turquoise eyes laughed.

Out of the side of his mouth Jallen said to Zoey, "We've a regular Jack the lad here. I'm surprised he doesn't have four or five gypsy hoops in his ears and a bone in his nose."

She admonished him with a glare trying to squelch laughter at the same time. Her trembling breasts had to be the eighth wonder of the world; Jallen admired their tremble while the gypsy propped his riot gun against the side of his wagon. The man became effusive at the sight of the HMS Land Barge.

"Good evening, my friends, and welcome. I do adore and envy this magnificent relic from the jet age. 1959, correcto?" he asked, leaning inside the Cadillac through Jallen's unrolled window, joy in every word. "Am I gonna have some big fun parking this very fine vintage motorcar. Zoey Quark, so good to see you again! No need to wave that invitation, dear child, I recognized your exceedingly beautiful face the moment I stepped out of my wagon. Who is your friend? I want to buy his sedan. 75,000 quid, no questions asked."