35- Jack

A light slap on his back woke him from his thoughts and Jack looked up to find his brother standing over him. "You alright, Jack? You look like hell."

"I’m okay. Having a bad week, is all."

T.J. took off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair before sitting down at the little table Jack had procured for the two of them. "Want to tell me about it?"

No. Not really. Jack started to decline the offer but, glancing up at the concerned expression on his brother’s face, "I’m worried about my job," was what he actually said.

"But you’re a chief inspector. I should think your position is pretty secure by now."

"Detective chief inspector," Jack nodded. He’d thought so too, until just recently. He’d been back on the job for a month now, after his little vacation, but he still hadn’t been able to shake off that other case. Everyone could tell he was off his game. He was distracted, making mistakes. He couldn’t seem to make himself really care about any of his current work. His mind just kept going back to the Andrews kidnapping, and the bloody double-homicide that had gone with it.

He told his brother about all of this, about how his superiors had started double-checking all of his work and sending other officers to verify things behind his back. He told him about the frequent moments, throughout the day, when he would get so lost in his thoughts that he’d completely lose track of what was going on around him, and when became aware of his surroundings again, he’d have no idea how much time had passed. He told him about how his friends and coworkers had started avoiding him, about how most nights he would lie awake in his bed all night, just staring at the ceiling and thinking about that Jones woman and those strange people in Switzerland, until his alarm clock signaled it was time for him to get up again.

A server stopped by their table, and Jack ordered a straight scotch.

T.J. stared at him. "Since when do you drink scotch?" he asked. "I’ve never seen you drink anything stronger than a little beer or wine in your entire life."

"I find it calms my nerves," Jack replied.

"This isn’t like you," T.J. leaned forward. "You’re not usually one to let your own feelings get in the way of your job. Haven’t you ever had an unsolved case before?"

"Of course. Cases go cold all the time. Especially in the Kidnap Unit. But this one is different."

"How so?"

How, indeed. Jack began to explain. He was vague on the details at first, because he really wasn’t supposed to talk about the case with civilians at all, but in the end he decided that he just didn’t care about that anymore, and he told his brother everything. The strange manners in which the mother and the boyfriend were murdered, and the gruesome scene they had created. The near-perfect quality of Ms. Jones’s false papers. The strange people in Switzerland, and the mysterious interview he’d had with them. The warning Mr. Waiblingen had given him in the lift. The pictures and video footage that had been so expertly tampered with. The way in which the Swiss police watching that house had suddenly lost all interest in the case– that really struck him as odd; it was as if they had all been bribed, or threatened, or . . . hell, it was as if they’d all been hypnotized or something. Not that Jack believed in such things. But one day they were reporting suspicious activity, noting unusual behavior, trying to get interviews with the household help, investigating the true identities of the two who lived there, and the two new arrivals from Malta . . . and the next day, they suddenly all agreed that there was nothing of interest at that house. It just didn’t make sense! "There’s something going on there. And it’s bigger than this one incident. They’re all up to something . . . something big, and this Nadina Jones is in on it. When I spoke to the other two, I swear they were protecting something, and it wasn’t just her they were protecting. It was something important. Some huge secret."

"Like what?"

Jack wasn’t sure about that yet. He had theories, but no real clues as to what it was that they were all hiding. Perhaps they were international terrorists of some kind, or they were involved in some kind of human trafficking ring, or they were part of a drugs cartel, or they were illegal arms dealers, or maybe it was some dangerous new religious cult . . . . He didn’t know what it was, but he did know that no one was investigating it. That they were somehow just getting away with . . . whatever it was, and had been for some time now. He knew that they had to be caught– they had to be stopped, and the fact that no one seemed to care about it . . . well, it was driving him toward a nervous breakdown, and he knew it!

Jack fell silent and downed his scotch in one long gulp, then buried his head in his hands. T.J. watched him in silence for a few minutes, then began riffling through his coat pockets. After a moment, he pulled a small pad of paper from an inner pocket and, after borrowing a pen from one of the servers, he scribbled a note, ripped the paper from the pad, and placed the note on the table in front of Jack.

It was a medical prescription.

"This is to help you sleep at night. Take one every night before bed. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can’t get you a recommendation for a good psychiatrist. You need help."

Jack looked up at his brother. "You think I’m losing my mind?"

T.J. shook his head. "No," he said, "But you will, if you don’t have someone to talk to about all of this. This isn’t healthy. You need someone who can help you get through this . . . whatever this is. Someone to help you get over it, so you can be yourself again. This obsession of yours isn’t just getting in the way of your work, it’s getting in the way of your life."

Jack nodded.

"Promise me you’ll get those pills."

"I will."

"Good. I’ll call you tomorrow about the psychiatrist." T.J. watched him worriedly for another minute, then asked, "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"No, I’m alright."

"Well, take care of yourself, will you? I’ll talk to you tomorrow."

Jack watched as his brother gathered up his things and paid the bill for both of them. He glanced down at his watch. It was later than he had thought. They’d been sitting at this table for more than three hours. How many drinks had he had? He hadn’t kept track. He slowly stood up and made his way toward the door, out into the fresh night air, then decided to take the train home.

T.J. was scared for him, he could tell. Well, he was scared for himself. His job was in danger, his health was in a bad state . . . and he felt like his mind was slipping, too. Perhaps his brother was right, perhaps he did need some professional help. He just wasn’t sure what, if anything, a psychiatrist could possibly do for him.

34- Nadina

"There is a spare bed in M’boku’s room. You can sleep there, until I can make other arrangements," Nadina opened the door to the larger bedroom in her flat and waved a hand toward the single bed that sat opposite from the one with the large tent on it. Alexei gave her a quizzical look, and she added, "I sometimes use that bed, when he is feeling insecure."

"No!" M’boku stomped his foot and slammed a tiny fist into Alexei’s right hip. "You can’t go in! Only ’Dina can be on that bed!" Nadina peered at Alexei’s face, watching carefully for his reaction.

"What?" Alexei turned to face him. "Why not? I thought we were friends."

"NO. WE’RE. NOT. FRIENDS!!" M’boku shouted back. "Only ’Dina!"

Nadina bit her lip. It was true that the two of them had never been friends. Alexei had clearly never approved of Mila’s inexplicable infatuation with M’boku, and M’boku had never shown him any kindness– in fact, Nadina couldn’t deny that he had actually been quite cruel to Alexei on several occasions– but she hoped that Alexei could look past all of that, and just think of how greatly this new arrangement would benefit him. M’boku was dormant now, after all. He couldn’t remember any of their interactions from the past. He was just behaving like a normal four-year-old boy. To him, Alexei was someone they had just met, and he wasn’t comfortable enough with him to share a room just yet. Whether or not that changed would depend on Alexei’s actions.

"We’re not friends, huh? Well, I guess not." Alexei glanced around M’boku’s bedroom for a moment. "That’s too bad, though. Because I know everything there is to know about cars and trucks . . . and dinosaurs. I am an expert on dinosaurs."

M’boku calmed down a bit and narrowed his eyes at Alexei, as if he were trying to determine whether or not he was telling the truth.

"That’s right," Nadina verified with a smile, "Alexei is very smart. He knows about a lot of things."

M’boku frowned. "But he has a bad-guy mask."

Alexei raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"He means your eyepatch," Nadina explained. "On television, only the villains wear them."

"Ah. Right." Alexei crouched down to M’boku’s level. "You don’t think it looks cool?"

"No. Not cool."

"I wear it to cover up my scar that I got when I was fighting a bad guy. You want to see it?"

Still unsure what to think, M’boku nodded.

Alexei lifted the patch off of his eye and gave a fake smile. M’boku’s eyes went wide. Nadina was surprised that Alexei would show it to him. She had never seen him without his patch. Mila would never have let him show his scar to anyone. Nadina blinked. It wasn’t pretty, but she had seen much worse before.

"A bad guy did that?" M’boku asked quietly.

"Yeah. I fight bad guys a lot. It’s dangerous work. I guess you could say I’m sort of like a superhero. In fact, Nadina and I have fought some bad guys together before."

M’boku looked up at Nadina. "Really?"

Nadina smiled. "Of course. Alexei is really strong, like I am. We’ve teamed up a few times."

M’boku’s eyes lit up, and Alexei’s smile turned genuine. "Maybe . . . if we were friends . . ." he said as he put his eyepatch back on, ". . . maybe I could teach you a few moves . . ." He glanced at M’boku for a moment, then added, "If I teach you how to fight, maybe you could join our team, and we could fight bad guys together . . . if that’s okay with Nadina?"

Nadina thought about that. If Alexei were careful, and just taught him a few basic moves, it might be a good idea for him to learn how to defend himself. As long as no weapons were involved, Alexei’s hand-to-hand style was simple enough that M’boku should have little difficulty learning it. But would Alexei be careful? Would it be safe enough? More importantly, could he be trusted that much? She narrowed her eyes at him. "You understand that if M’boku is harmed by you in any way, whether it is intentional or not . . ."

"Yes, I understand. You don’t have to worry– I’m not stupid enough to let him get hurt on my watch."

She felt a tiny pair of arms wrap around her thigh. M’boku hugged her tightly and stared up at her with pleading eyes. "Please, can we do it? Pleeease?"

Nadina pretended confusion. "But I thought you said you weren’t friends?"

"We are friends! I want to!"

Alexei grinned triumphantly. Nadina sighed. "Well, since he’s your friend, I suppose it would be alright."

M’boku squealed with delight and dragged Alexei into his bedroom to show him all of his toys. Nadina watched them with mixed feelings.

If this worked out, Alexei would be spending most of every day alone with M’boku while Nadina went out. She would come home in the evenings and spend an hour or so with him before putting him to bed, then she would leave again in the morning before he woke up. She would provide Alexei with instructions for M’boku’s meals, as well as daily lesson plans and curriculum so that there would be no lapse in his education. In exchange, Nadina had agreed to put a generous sum into an account every month. Nadina had managed to set the account up with a very good interest rate, with the stipulation that Alexei would not have access to the money until M’boku left for boarding school– which would be in about one year and four months. At that time, Alexei was free to do whatever he chose with his earnings. Until then, Nadina would pay for meals, clothing, and whatever else Alexei might need for the duration of their arrangement.

He also had a few rules to abide by while he was there. No drinking, no going out at night, and absolutely no gambling of any kind. Alexei had been insulted by that last rule. "I do not have a gambling problem!" he had insisted. "Good," she had replied, "Then it shouldn’t be a problem for you to abstain while you’re with us." He hadn’t had a response for that, and she had moved on to the other details of the arrangement.

Nadina sighed as she watched the two of them playing together. She wished she didn’t have to do this, but she knew that every minute that she spent with him was a risk. How much damage had she already done? She worried about it constantly. How close was he to a premature awakening, just from the time they’d spent together over the past year? Was it already too late? There was no way of knowing at this point, but she hoped that being apart from him every day like this would reduce the risk. It was all she could think to do. She knew M’boku would be upset when he found out that she would be gone most of the time now, but she knew that he would get used to it. It was for his own good.

They had decided to tell M’boku that Nadina was "at work" during the day. Perhaps she really would get a job somewhere in town, just to give her something to do while she was out. She had degrees in business and finance, among other things, so maybe she would do something along those lines.

She also intended to use the extra time to research various boarding schools. She wanted to ensure that he got the best possible education, in the most secure and comfortable environment. He would need his own room, and it would have to be somewhere that would allow students to stay year-round– she didn’t want him forced to live with her during long vacations. The whole point of sending him to a boarding school was to distance herself from him, for his own safety. She would also want to be able to live near the school, so that she could watch over him from a safe distance and be close enough to protect him, should he ever be in any danger while he’s at school. And it would have to be an institution that provided a minimum of twelve years of education, from age five to at least age 16– that had been the age at which he had awakened the last time. It would be difficult just finding a school that would satisfy all of her criteria, and then she was sure it would take some time to get him admission into such a school. The entire process would certainly help to occupy the hours that she would be spending away from home.

She only hoped that she had the willpower to stay away from him every day.

33- Xerondar

Xerondar stepped out of the car and thanked the driver.  His Portuguese was a little rusty– and about three hundred years old-fashioned– but the man smiled and nodded before driving off.  He slung his bag over one shoulder and looked up at the tall building in front of him.  Fanzou lived in one of these flats.

It had taken Xerondar two weeks to make the decision to go to Brazil.  He didn’t feel comfortable going so far away from Nira, but Fanzou had promised to keep her under surveillance while Xerondar was away and to notify him immediately if he detected any problems.  He still felt uneasy about it but really, he knew she would be okay.  Besides, it would only be a few weeks– maybe a month– and then he would be back.

The front entrance was locked and required a code to get inside.  Xerondar put his bag down and began to fumble through his pockets for Fanzou’s apartment number, when the speaker cut on.

“Yo!” a young male voice called over the intercom, “Welcome to my humble abode!  I’m buzzing you in now.  Third floor, second door on the left.  Door’s open!”

Xerondar looked up.  He didn’t see any cameras anywhere.  He decided they must be very well-concealed.  “Thanks!” he called back, then he picked up his things and opened the door.  As it closed, a big gray fur-ball darted in behind him and ran up the stairs.  He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and marched up three flights of stairs, then turned left.  The second flat had an obvious security camera mounted above the door next to an old sticker on the wall that read “HELLO THERE” in what must once have been bright colors.  He wiped his feet on a faded blue welcome mat and opened the door.

The place was surprisingly warm and inviting.  To his right was a small seating area with a sofa and an overstuffed armchair, across from which sat a huge television and four different gaming systems.  To the left was a wall with a closed door, and a beat-up metal sign that read “No foreigners allowed here” in Japanese.  Beyond the door the space opened up, and to the right was a small kitchen with a little plastic table and some folding chairs, while to the left was an arrangement of desks and tables, upon which were several computers and various other machines which all seemed to be hooked up to the computers, with one comfortable-looking rolling chair in the middle of it all.  Past that area were two more doors and a small room off to the side with a couch and a small table.

The door directly in front of him opened, and out came Fanzou.  He was, of course, different from how Xerondar remembered him.  He was a slender man with Asian features, and had messy, shaggy dark hair and a few days’ growth around the edges of his chin and the corners of his mouth.  He wore a rather worn, loose pair of cargo pants and a faded gray tank-top.  Fanzou grinned.  “You made it!” he said, “I was almost sure you wouldn’t come.”

Xerondar laughed.  “So was I,” he admitted.

“So that room’s yours,” Fanzou said as he gestured toward the doorless room beyond the computers.  “That sofa opens up, and there’s drawers in that table where you can stash your stuff.  I’ll put some curtains up today so you can have some privacy.  I meant to do that before you came but . . .”  Fanzou glanced toward his computers and scratched at the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Xerondar shrugged.  He didn’t plan on staying here for very long, so he didn’t see any need for Fanzou to start changing things just for him.  His eyes wandered toward the computers again.  All of them seemed to be on, and each of them appeared to be running a separate program.  Different colored Post-it notes filled with illegible scrawlings covered the edges of the monitors and the walls behind them, and crumpled-up notes littered the floor beneath the desks.  “What are you working on?” he asked.

Fanzou shrugged.  “Different things,” he said casually.  “Nothing really exciting.”  He glanced back at his workspace again and added, “Just . . . while you’re here, please don’t turn off anything over here.  And don’t touch these two,” he gestured toward two computers in the corner which seemed to be running something complicated– black backgrounds with green and white numbers and letters scrolling up the screens.  “It’s a matter of life and death.”  Fanzou looked at Xerondar and laughed at his expression, then in a more serious tone added, “Really.”

“Okay,” Xerondar had already assumed that Fanzou’s computers would be off-limits.  He removed the bag from his shoulder and entered the room that Fanzou had indicated would be his.  Stretched out in the center of the fold-out couch was a hugely fat, long-haired gray cat, which Xerondar recognized as the one he’d seen on his way in.  “Is this your cat?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Fanzou replied.  “I didn’t tell you about her?  Her name is Quistis.  She’s an old grouch at first, but once she gets to know you, she’s not bad.”

“Quistis?  That’s an unusual name.”

“Yeah, I got it from a video game.”

Xerondar stared at the giant fuzzball.  Something about her demeanor made it very clear that this was her room that he was taking over.  “I’m sorry,” he told her, “I won’t be here long, I promise.”  He moved to pet her, but she swatted his hand away with her paw, glared at him for a moment, then marched snootily from the room to wrap herself around Fanzou’s feet.

He tossed his bag onto the table and looked out the window.  Fanzou’s was a corner apartment, so it had more windows than most of his neighbors’ homes.  The view wasn’t the greatest– just a lot of tall buildings and a bit of sky– but it was nicer than what he had expected from the home of such a notorious recluse.

He stepped out of the room.  Fanzou was busily typing away at one of his computers.  Xerondar tried the door next to his room.  It had a shower, a sink, and a toilet.  A small window with some potted plants on the sill.  Gray and white tile.  Modest, but clean.  The next door opened into a sparse bedroom with a small single bed, a little chest of drawers, and a side table with a lamp.  Above the bed hung a framed charcoal sketch of a beautiful young woman whom Xerondar assumed was a recent incarnation of Xiaoli.  Fanzou had thick curtains on the windows in that room.  Xerondar guessed that he must sleep during the day a lot.  He closed that door and went to check out the room near the front door.  That door wouldn’t open.

“I keep that one locked,” Fanzou said without turning away from his computer.  “It’s dangerous, and I don’t want Quistis going in there and getting hurt.”

Ah.  So Fanzou did still keep up some of his old hobbies.  Xerondar had wondered if he’d given them up to spend all of his time on his computers, but apparently he hadn’t.  Suddenly he was really glad that he’d decided to pursue a friendship with this guy.

Xerondar planted himself on the small sofa near the front door and looked around.  It was very comfortable.

“You can watch TV or play whatever you like.  The games are in the cabinet under the TV.  I’ll be done here in about an hour, and then we can order pizza or go out, or whatever.”

“Okay.”  Xerondar had never really played video games, so he decided instead to just relax and soak in his surroundings.  It felt strange, knowing that Nira was here in this world, knowing exactly where she was, and yet willingly being thousands of miles away from her.  He almost felt like he was shirking in his duty to her somehow.  Even though he knew she shouldn’t need him until she awakened, which wouldn’t be for another twelve years or so.  He sighed.  He had promised Fanzou that he would try not to dwell on such thoughts while he was in Brazil.  He was here to try and distance himself.

It would be good for her.  He knew that the closer he was to her– the more carefully he watched over her– the harder it was for him to stay away from her.  And being too close to her while she was still dormant could be bad for her.  It could cause serious problems.  That was the main reason that he had agreed to visit Fanzou in Sao Paulo.  It was for her own good.

A little over an hour later, Fanzou got up, stretched, and disappeared into his bedroom.  He came out again after a minute wearing a faded t-shirt and a pair of flip-flop sandals.  “Dude, I am craving takoyaki right now.  You like Japanese?”

Xerondar shrugged.  “Sure.”

“Awesome.  Liberdade is like three blocks from here.  It is like the mecca of all things delicious.”
Xerondar laughed and followed him out of the apartment.  As they left the building, he once again glanced around at the entrance.

“What is it?” Fanzou asked.

“I was just wondering where the cameras are.”

“Cameras?”

“Yeah, don’t you have some out here?”

Fanzou gave him a strange look.  “Dude, unlike some guys I know, I don’t spy on my neighbors.  That would be creepy.”

Xerondar rolled his eyes, then frowned.  “Then, how did you know when I got here?”

Fanzou laughed.  “Um . . . not sure if you know this, but they’ve invented these things called windows.  You can use them to see what’s outside without even leaving your house.  Amazing, right?”

Xerondar grinned and shook his head.  Part of him felt silly, but with Fanzou’s reputation, who could blame him for making the assumption that there were spy-cameras rigged outside the front door?

32- Karl

He let go of the seat and watched her go.  The contraption moved more awkwardly under her than it had under him– slow and wobbly.  Her soft shoes kept slipping off of the foot-levers and her balance was unsteady.  She said the clothes felt strange.  He told her that the machine would not work if she sat side-saddle on it.  They were ladies’ riding clothes.  Jacob had ordered them from Paris.  Fortitude refused to wear them.  Grushilde liked the idea of wearing them, but said they were difficult to get used to.  Like wearing men’s clothing, she said.  She had fallen three times already, but she wanted to learn.  So each time, he had helped her mount again, helped her toes find the levers, and had given her a push to get her going.  He watched her now, making slow, crooked little circles around him, gradually going a bit faster and a bit more steadily.  As he watched, the front wheel went over a rock and she lost her balance.  “Karl!” she shouted, and he leapt forward to catch her.  She fell into his arms, knocking him to the ground, and the riding machine fell with them.  He worried only for a moment, but then he heard her giggling.  She sat up and untangled herself from the machine and from him, then lifted it up off of him.  She laughed as he stood up and brushed the dust from the back of his pants.  “Thank you, Karl,” she said with a bright smile, “Now help me get back on this thing!”

Karl woke to find Jacob’s face looming over him and nearly jumped.  “Geez, Jacob, I’ve told you not to do that!  I don’t care how child-like my face looks when I’m sleeping; I don’t like people hanging over me like that when I wake up!”

Jacob laughed.  “Sorry,” he said, “but you were calling out Grushilde’s name in your sleep.  Over and over.”

Karl sat up in the bed and rubbed the sleep from his face.  “I’m sorry.  Was I loud?  Did I wake you?”

“No.  I was already awake.  But I thought maybe . . .”

“Oh.”  Karl sighed.  If only that were the case.  “No, I was only dreaming about her.”  He thought for a moment.  “But it will be soon, I think.  I doubt it will even be a year.  I’ve been thinking about going to Australia soon.  I want to get there before she awakens.”

“Is that what you were dreaming about?”

“No, actually . . . do you remember when we got that bicycle?  And you got those riding outfits for the girls?”

Jacob laughed.  “I remember.  Fortitude thought it was all so stupid.  She wanted no part of it.”

Karl grinned.  “I remember it was your idea to begin with.  Fortitude thought you were crazy.” 

“Yeah.  But Grushilde loved it,” Jacob nodded.  “She used to ride that thing everywhere.”

“And you could never get her to stop wearing those funny clothes.”

Jacob groaned.  “When I ordered them, I never thought Grushilde would want to wear them all the time.”  He laughed again.  “I don’t think I’ve seen her wear an actual skirt since.”

Karl laughed.  Jacob was exaggerating, of course.  Hilde had worn plenty of skirts and dresses since then.  She just preferred something that was easier to run around in.  “God, I miss her.”

“I know.”

A light tap at the door interrupted them.  “I’m coming in,” a soft voice warned from the other side, “Are you decent?”

Jacob got up and opened the door for Fortitude.

“Ugh!  Jacob, you’re naked!” Fortitude shouted as she pulled the door closed again.  “Cover yourself up so I can come in!”

Karl laughed again.  Jacob was wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.  That was certainly not what Karl considered naked, but Fortitude apparently had her own definition of the word.  Jacob rolled his eyes and grinned as he pulled a robe on and tied it around his waist, then he tossed another robe onto the bed so that Karl could cover up his own sleep-shorts and bare chest.

Jacob let her in again and, satisfied with their new level of decency, she bounced into the room and seated herself on the edge of the bed, tucking her feet up under the bottom of her dress and flipping her ash-blonde curls back behind her as she did so.  “I talked to Hespah,” she told them.

Karl sighed.  “And?”

“She’s still very angry with me.”

Jacob shook his head.  “Of course she is.  You have to admit, that’s understandable.”

“Yes, I know.  But now I’ve apologized.  And I released the command.  So she can stop avoiding you now.”

Karl glanced at Jacob.  That was a relief.  Hopefully that whole incident would be forgiven and forgotten soon.  And Shepetheleh would never have to hear about it.  When Fortitude had first told them what she’d done, Jacob had panicked.  She, of course, hadn’t been thinking about what kinds of consequences her little “outburst” could have.  She had simply been angry, and had just lashed out at Hespah without really planning to. 

“We need to make this right,” Karl muttered.  An apology from Fortitude would go a long way, but he still felt that something else was needed.  Something that would get them all talking again.  Remind everyone how well they’d always gotten along.

Jacob shrugged.  “Why don’t we all go into town today?  We could go to a restaurant, maybe do a little window-shopping . . . The weather is really beautiful today.”

Karl rolled his eyes.  “That’s your answer?  Window-shopping?”

But Fortitude looked excited.  “No, I think it’s a good idea,” she said.  “Come on, Karl.  It’s been so long since we’ve been out of the house.  And Hespah’s been cooped up all by herself for almost two weeks now.  I’m sure she’d love to go out.”

Jacob was already in Karl’s closet, pulling out more of those ridiculously expensive clothes that he was always buying for him.  A pair of brown jeans came flying across the room to hit Karl in the face.  Then a blue t-shirt.  And a brown and blue plaid shirt.  Karl held up both shirts.  “Which one do I put on?”

Jacob paused for a moment and looked at him.  “Both, of course.”

Of course.  Jacob was always making him wear two or three shirts at once.

Jacob tossed a belt at him.  “Tuck the t-shirt in, wear the belt, leave the collared shirt unbuttoned.  And here are your shoes and socks.”

Karl laughed.  “You know, I’m not a three-year-old.  I do know how to put my own clothes on.”

Jacob and Fortitude exchanged a look, and Fortitude laughed.  “I’ll go tell Hespah,” she said as she made her way toward the door.

Karl stood up.  “No, I’ll get her.  Just give me a minute.”

Fortitude shrugged and left the room.

Karl followed Jacob’s instructions without even pausing to ask why the shirt had buttons on it if he wasn’t supposed to use them, then he rushed out of the room to find Hespah.

She was in the kitchen, sipping at a cup of coffee and staring into the pantry.  She turned to scowl at him when he came in.  “Karl,” she said with a nod.

“Hespah,” he nodded back.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah,” he replied.  “You were right, of course.  It only took about ten days or so to heal up.”

“Jacob, too?”

Karl nodded.

Hespah’s eyes dropped to the floor.  “Look, I’m sorry I kicked your asses so hard,” she said.  “I guess I should have gone easier on you.”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her.  “We needed it.”  He laughed.  “Now we both know how out-of-shape we are.”

Hespah grinned.  “Yeah, well . . . I guess, since it was your first day back in the gym in a while, maybe I could have been a little more careful with you.”

“Don’t worry about it.  We’re not made of glass, you know.”

Hespah snorted, then turned back to the pantry.

“By the way, the rest of us were talking about going into town today.  Get something to eat, maybe walk around a little.  You should come with us.”

“I don’t know.  I’m not ready to start acting all chummy with that . . . with Fortitude.”

“Please?  If you don’t come, Jacob’s going to make me go shopping.”

Hespah laughed out loud that time.  “Okay.  For you, then.”

Karl smiled to himself as he followed Hespah out of the kitchen.  When he and Grushilde had first come to live here, Shepetheleh had described the arrangement as “tactically prudent”.  Allies living under the same roof made for a stronger defense.  But somehow, for Karl, these people had become like a family.  Grushilde, Jacob, Fortitude, Hespah– even Shepetheleh– they all knew each other so well.  And it just didn’t feel right when two of them were fighting.  The last two weeks had felt so wrong.  It was a relief to finally be making peace again.

31- Alexei

The second guy went for a low tackle, but Alexei dodged it and shoved his knee up between the man’s ribs.  Then the big one came at him, bellowing loudly and leaping into the air to throw himself at him.  An idiotic move.  Alexei ducked and turned, moving himself out of the way, then kept turning, swinging his leg out to take a hard sweep at the guy’s knees, kicking them up higher so that instead of landing on his hands and knees, he took most of the impact on his neck and shoulders.  Right then the smaller guy was starting to get his breath back and was pushing himself up onto his elbows.  Alexei shoved his fist into the man’s face, but he was still trying to fight back.  At that point he completely forgot his plan and just started raining punches down on the two men on the ground.  He ignored the guy on the other side of the alley.  That one had been all talk.  A punch in the face and he was done fighting.  But these two . . .  Alexei had planned to just knock them all down and run.  Get back to his hotel.  Stay in his room for the rest of the night and wait until tomorrow to go out again.  But the idiots refused to stay down.  They kept trying to get up and fight.  It was frustrating.  Alexei slammed his knuckles into the big guy’s mouth and felt a tooth come loose, then he shoved his other fist into his jaw.  He was just about to aim another blow at the smaller one when he realized he was being watched.

He froze for a moment, then turned to look, brushing his hair out of his eyes with the back of one bloody hand.  It was a tall, thin woman with espresso-colored skin and black hair the length of peach fuzz on her head, wearing a light grey suit with a pink blouse, dragging along a little rosy-cheeked caucasian child with short-cropped hair the color of dry dirt.  He recognized the woman, and by association he had his suspicions about the boy’s identity as well.  “Nadina?”

Nadina picked up the little boy and rested him on one hip, presenting a motherly image that conflicted with everything Alexei had ever known about her.  “Alexei,” she said in that stern, authoritative tone of hers, “What are you doing here?”

Alexei blinked.  What was he doing here?  He thought that would have been obvious.  The more important question should be, what was she doing here?  And was that kid really who he thought he was?  And if so, why couldn’t he sense him?  She couldn’t possibly be holding M’boku while he was still dormant . . . could she?  “Nadina,” he said softly, “who is that kid?”

Her eyes narrowed at him dangerously and he flinched back as she took a step forward.  “Come on,” she said, “This isn’t a good place to talk.”

Alexei looked around.  They were standing in a dirty alleyway between two casinos in downtown Macau, with three bloody men groaning at their feet.  But somehow it felt safer to stay here than to follow Nadina to wherever she might be taking him.  Still, he followed her.  It should be fine.  Nadina was a practical person.  And M’boku didn’t have many friends.  And as much as Alexei hated the guy, for some reason Mila was fond of him.  She was probably the only one who liked that psycho.  So it wouldn’t be practical for Nadina to do anything treacherous.  She and M’boku needed to hold on to any friendships they could get.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

Nadina looked him over for a moment, then reached into her bag and produced a package of disinfecting wet wipes and a box of bandages.  “Clean yourself up,” she told him.

Alexei took a wipe from the package and began cleaning his hands as they walked.  It stung at the broken skin on his knuckles, but it felt good to get the blood and dirt off.

The little boy was staring at him.  “Are you a good guy?” he asked.

Alexei took a second wipe from the package and considered that for a moment.  A child’s idea of good and bad was always so clear.  In reality, there was no such thing as good guys and bad guys– everyone was a little of both.  He looked at Nadina, holding this kid’s hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.  Even she had a soft side.  “Yeah,” he replied after a minute, “I’m about as good as your Nadina here.”

Nadina shot him an icy glare, and Alexei flinched.

He finished washing his face and hands and opened the box of bandages.  They were brightly colored, with Super Sentai heroes printed on them.  Alexei glanced at Nadina, then looked down at the child.  He smirked as he wrapped the Super Sentai bandages around his knuckles.  It was a good thing Mila wasn’t here to see this.

After a minute, Nadina stopped walking and looked down at the little boy.  “You’re hungry,” she stated, then she turned to Alexei.  “Have you eaten?”

Alexei shook his head.  He hadn’t eaten anything in days; he couldn’t afford to waste money on food right now.  But he tried not to show it.

Nadina let the boy pick a restaurant and twenty minutes later, they were ordering cheeseburgers at a McDonald’s.  Alexei tried hard not to show how hungry he was.  He took small bites and made them last.  He didn’t want Nadina thinking he was desperate.

“So how long have you been in Macau?” she asked him.

“Only a few days,” he replied.  “What about you?  What are you doing here?”

“I live here, for now.” 

“Oh?”

Nadina glanced at the boy and nodded.

Alexei stared at the child.  “Nadina,” he whispered, leaning forward, “Is that . . . who I think it is . . . ?”

Nadina smiled and ran a hand through the child’s ash-brown hair.  “This is M’boku,” she confirmed.

Alexei swallowed.  “But he’s not . . .”

“He’s still dormant.”

Alexei leaned back in his seat and watched M’boku for a few more minutes.  He was a cute kid.  But what was Nadina thinking?  Didn’t she realize how dangerous this was for him?  No, of course she did.  There must be more going on here.  Some extreme circumstance that would force her to take this kind of risk.

M’boku tugged at Nadina’s shirt.  “Can I get ice cream?” he asked.  Nadina gave him some money and he ran to place his order.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she asked.

Alexei thought about that.  “Honestly, I’m a little jealous,” he replied.  “I would love to be able to have Mila with me right now.”

Nadina watched him in silence for a minute.  “Where are you staying right now, Alexei?”

“I have a room at the Sands.”

“Oh.  How long do you plan to stay in Macau?”

“As long as I can.”

Nadina nodded slowly and sat quietly, watching M’boku.  The girl behind the counter handed him a tray with three items on it and asked, in broken English, if he could carry it by himself.  M’boku smiled at the girl and replied, in perfect Cantonese, that he was strong enough to do it without help.  The girl seemed surprised, and Alexei laughed.  Nadina was teaching the boy well.

M’boku made it back to the table without spilling anything.

“What did you get?” Nadina asked him.  “I don’t think your little tummy is big enough for all of that!”

M’boku giggled.  “No way!” he said, then he handed her a small sugar cone with vanilla ice cream on it.  “This is for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” she replied with a nod.

“And this is for you.  It’s the same as mine.”

Alexei stared at the cup that had been placed in front of him.  “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s ice cream, silly!  It’s Oreo and taro flavor!”

Alexei smiled.  M’boku had never bought him dessert before.  He decided that he really liked the dormant, four-year-old version of M’boku.  He was much easier to get along with than the M'boku he was used to.

Nadina stared at Alexei as she nibbled at her ice cream cone.  After a while, she leaned forward.  “I have an idea,” she said.  “I think we can help each other out.”

30- Jack

It felt strange.  Jack closed the door behind him and glanced around the small flat.  It was like visiting a friend who lives out of town– everything was familiar, but in a distant sort of way.  It didn’t feel like home.  Jack sighed and dropped his bags.  He supposed that was what happened when one was away for so long.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why he had never bothered to fix the place up.  There were no pictures on the walls, no little decorative items sitting around.  The furniture was comfortable and functional, but not particularly nice to look at.  It was clean, mostly.  A pile of clean laundry was scattered across the settee.  He had packed his bags in a hurry and hadn’t bothered to put everything away before he’d left.

He made his way into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  The smell nearly made him ill.  It would probably have been wise to clear out those old take-out boxes before going away.  He peered past the half-fermented kung pao chicken and the fossilized pepperoni pizza and found the one thing that hadn’t been compromised during his long absence.  There was only one bottle left, but he needed it after these past few days.

It had been so long since Jack’s last drink.  He didn’t usually drink much to begin with, and he had abstained to keep his mind sharp while he was working on that case.  But now he felt the cold, bitter liquid slide down into his empty stomach and he found himself wishing he had more than just the one bottle.  He wanted to just drink and drink, until he no longer cared about anything.  He didn’t want to think about mangled, bloody corpses, or about helpless little children being stolen away from their homes.  He wanted to forget about that mysterious woman and her strange friends.  Those people with only first names, who lived in giant houses and carried weapons and made threats and had big, dangerous secrets and false papers.  People who could manipulate security footage from all over the world.  People who were obviously involved in something very large and very illegal, but who never seemed to get caught.

Jack drained the last few drops from his bottle and set it down beside the sink.  Since that woman had left Switzerland with the boy, the investigation had gotten nowhere.  A few false leads, but nothing more.  She was gone.  The boy was gone.  And she had the audacity to tease them with images and videos on a daily basis– images and videos which couldn’t be used to trace them, no matter how thoroughly they were studied.

After several months with no new leads, it had been decided that the small task force should be broken up.  The case had gone cold.  The investigation was, at this point, a waste of resources.  There were other cases– other crimes being committed, other criminals to be caught.  Everyone was sent home.  Jack was given a week’s leave, and then he would be back at his old desk, probably assigned to another kidnapping case.  A normal one, this time.  Something involving a ransom demand, perhaps.

Jack groaned.  There was so much more to this case than just a double murder and a kidnapping.  He knew it.  And no one else seemed to see it.  The local police in Switzerland had somehow gotten the idea that they were wasting their time watching those people.  They had stopped all surveillance of that house.  Why?  Were they paid off?  Threatened?  And no one had ever found that man who had attacked the hospital.  He had completely disappeared.  Why couldn’t everyone see that there was something very wrong about these people?

The whole situation made him sick.  Jack made his way to his bed and pulled off his clothes before flopping down onto it face-first.  Worst of all was the fact that there was nothing he could do about it.  He’d tried explaining his suspicions, hoping to convince someone to keep the case open, but all he’d gotten was a canned response.  “Thank you, we’ll look into it.”  That was it.  Nothing more.  And now he was expected to just put it all behind him, enjoy his week off, and be ready to get back to work next Monday. 

As if it were that simple.

Jack stretched out across the bed.  At least now he would finally be able to catch up on his sleep.

29- Tsu Lai

Desiderius had a way of entering a room as if he owned the place.  Even when he was newly awakened, he still somehow managed to exude that same kind of brisk, masculine confidence.  Tsu Lai watched as Desiderius’s adolescent form strode manfully into the sun-room and stopped in front of Aterat.  He dropped to one knee and gave a short bow with his head, then stood back up.  Aterat’s face glowed at this unexpected display of fealty.  She gestured for him to sit in the wide wicker chair across from hers.

Precia had entered just after Desiderius, but she had remained by the door.  Tsu Lai poured tea for Aterat and Desiderius, then quietly made his way to the wall where Precia was standing.  She was looking well.  Her dark brown ringlets were pulled back into a messy knot at the back of her head and she wore a simple grey dress that matched her eyes and complimented her olive complexion.  Precia appeared to be in good condition, judging by the well-toned muscles that he could see in her bare arms and calves.  Her shape was no real indication, though.  No matter how muscular she got, Precia always had those wide, round hips and that small chest.  She was tall for a woman, or maybe her height was about average now– her head almost reached the center of Tsu Lai’s chest– she was about half a head taller than Aterat’s current form.  He couldn’t see any weapons on her, but with Precia, one never saw the blades until she was using them.  Sometimes not even then.  She had a way of hiding them so that they appeared to just materialize in her hand when she needed them.  It was the kind of deceptive tactics that always made Tsu Lai nervous.

Once they had both finished looking each other over, the two of them turned to watch Aterat and Desiderius.

Aterat picked up her cup and swirled a spoon around in it.  “You look very handsome this time, Desiderius,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied.  “You are very beautiful, yourself.”

Tsu Lai looked at him again.  He had a Polynesian look to him– dark olive skin, dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones.  He had a smooth face and an athletic-looking body.  But he was still a boy.  It was difficult to say for sure, at this point, whether or not he would keep his good looks when he reached maturity.

Aterat smiled.  “How long were you dormant, this time?”

Desiderius leaned back in his chair.  “I turn fourteen in three months.”

Aterat beamed at him proudly.  “Less than fourteen years!” she gushed.  “You’re growing so strong!”

Tsu Lai’s mouth twitched slightly at one corner.  Aterat was obviously patronizing the boy.  Aterat herself had awakened at the age of nine this time.  But then, hers was a much older soul than Desiderius’s was, so of course she would be the stronger of the two.  He wondered briefly how long Shepetheleh had stayed dormant the last few times, but then he quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.  He must never compare Aterat’s strength to Shepetheleh’s, even in a passing thought.  It would upset her if she knew he even considered such things.

Tsu Lai and Precia stood silently near the door and listened as Aterat and Desiderius talked.  Desiderius asked after several of the others and Aterat told him what she felt he needed to know.  He was the first of her own who had awakened in the fifteen years that had passed since her own awakening.  The three who had left her cause had all been reborn, but so far none of them had awakened.  Konrad was still dormant.

“Jaira?”  Desiderius asked.

“She has not yet returned.”

Desiderius sighed.  “And once she does return, how long before she awakens?” he muttered.  “We are weakened without her.”

Tsu Lai gasped quietly and glanced at Precia, who tensed her shoulders and watched Aterat’s reaction with worried eyes.  The idea that Aterat might ever need to rely on the strength of anyone but herself was one that must never be implied in her presence.  Tsu Lai knew she was struggling to hold in the sudden fury that Desiderius’s words had triggered.  He could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his own veins.

Aterat closed her eyes and pursed her lips, but otherwise she maintained her outward composure.  “Jaira is strong,” she conceded with a nod, “but I am here, so her absence makes little difference.”

The color left Desiderius’s face as he realized his mistake.  “Of course,” he replied hurriedly.  “I only meant . . . ah . . .”

“It doesn’t matter,” Aterat cut him off with a wave of her hand.  “We are in the better position right now anyway.”

“How many do they have?”

“One or two.  No one important.  That fool Shepetheleh has not returned yet.”

Tsu Lai felt a slight movement beside him and caught Precia stealing a glance at him.  From her smug, amused expression, it was clear that she had heard about his recent failure in Switzerland.  Did everyone know about that?  He sighed softly and unconsciously brushed his fingers against the spot on his hip where he had been shot.  How long until that humiliating episode would be forgotten?  He focused his attention back on Aterat.

Desiderius leaned forward slightly in his chair.  “So then I guess we won’t be making many big moves anytime soon.  Do you know what you want to do now?”

Aterat gave a small smile.  “Actually, I’ve been toying with an idea recently . . .  But I’ll tell you about that later.  For now, you must be tired.  I’ll let you get settled in.”

Desiderius thanked her and excused himself, and Precia followed him out. 

Aterat leaned back in her chair with a groan.  “Well, I suppose that could have gone a lot worse,” she muttered.

Tsu Lai nodded slightly.  She had been so nervous about this reunion, and now that it was over, he could tell that she was exhausted.  He quietly removed her outdoor shoes from the small cabinet beside the outer door and brought them to her.  She gave a little sigh and lifted one foot up as he knelt to remove her sandals.  An hour or two spent relaxing in her garden would relieve most of the tension that had built up over the past few days.

Aterat wandered over the winding path toward her favorite little grotto.  When she entered, she found a book on the seat of the wooden swing there.  She glanced back at Tsu Lai for a moment, her face completely blank, then sat down with the book.

He gave a short, silent bow and left her to her reading.  As he walked away, he just barely heard her whisper, “How did he know this was exactly what I needed, when I didn’t even know it myself . . . ?”

Tsu Lai ducked his head and allowed himself a wide smile.

28- Nadina

Nadina held tightly to the tiny fingers that wriggled around in her hand.  She rarely liked to venture into downtown Macau, preferring to keep to the somewhat safer suburb where she and M’boku were living.  But today she’d had some business to take care of, and she’d promised M’boku that once they were done, if he was good, they would go to a show.  Macau was a big casino town– the gambling capital of the world– and while that did attract some of the most unsavory people, it also meant that there was always a lot of great entertainment available.  M’boku had been asking to see a troupe of acrobats that had been advertised a lot lately.

Recently, she’d started calling him by his real name.  She wasn’t sure if that was a risk or not, but calling him John just felt wrong to her somehow.  And the first time she’d accidentally addressed him as M’boku, he’d answered to it as easily as if he’d never had any other name.  She wasn’t certain whether or not that was a bad sign, either.  But she didn’t sense any indication that he might be awakening early, and he hadn’t been showing any of the usual symptoms, either.  So she tried not to think too much about it, and kept reassuring herself that soon enough he would be safely off to boarding school, and she wouldn’t have to worry anymore about causing him any permanent damage.

They had to walk through the main level of the casino to get to the theater entrance.  The crowd inside was uncomfortably thick, so Nadina lifted M’boku up and carried him, smiling at the feeling of his little arms squeezing around her neck and shoulders as he excitedly watched the twinkling lights and bright colors that surrounded them.

For a moment, she thought she saw a familiar face on the other side of the room.  Nadina peered through the throng and caught a glimpse of a young man with platinum-blonde hair being led into one of the private rooms in the back, but she couldn’t see his face.  She shook her head.  Even if she hadn’t just imagined the patch, it really could have been anyone.  Was she becoming paranoid now?

There was a long line at the entrance to the show, and everyone was crowded so closely together that Nadina considered going home.  But she had promised M’boku that they would see this show today, so she braved the heat and the stench of all those people and packed herself in with everyone else, clinging tightly to the precious child in her arms.

Almost immediately she felt a large, rough hand slide up the back of her skirt.  Yet another reason why she hated crowds.  “Remove your hand from my body,” she enunciated in her most polite Cantonese, “or I will remove it from your arm.”  The man behind her laughed, the stink of alcohol on his breath nearly gagging her as the hand slipped even higher under her skirt.  Shifting M’boku to one side, she reached back with her free hand and grabbed the man’s wrist.  Squeezing it hard, she wrenched it to one side until she felt it snap.  The man whimpered and collapsed onto the floor, cradling his broken wrist against his chest.  The rest of the crowd stepped around him as the line moved forward, ignoring his pathetic crying just as they had ignored his perverted groping.

Nadina squeezed M’boku with both arms and planted a quick kiss on his soft cheek.  He would never have tried something like that.  No matter what others may think of him– no matter how far he may sometimes take his little games– no one could ever accuse him of being less than a gentleman to any woman.

After waiting in line for about an hour, they were finally able to find their seats before the show began.  M’boku had no problem with the long wait.  He was fascinated by all of the lights and the people everywhere, the music and noise of the casino, and the posters of acrobats in colorful costumes hanging on the wall near the entrance to the theater.  By the time they were seated, he was so excited that he could hardly keep himself still, and was squirming and bouncing in his chair.

Nadina smiled.  At times like this, she was glad to be able to spend time with him as a child.  Usually she didn’t get to be with him until he awakened, which usually happened when he was a teenager.  Last time he’d been about seventeen years old.  Being together like this, when he was dormant and so small and sweet . . .  She hadn’t thought it could be possible for the bond between them to grow stronger than it already was, but caring for him as an innocent, helpless child had somehow made her feel even closer to him than before.  If she didn’t know that it was dangerous for him, she would want to keep him with her like this every time.

Nadina was not very impressed with the acrobats, but what they lacked in physical skill, they more than made up for with dramatic lighting and music, and with elaborate, glittering costumes.  M’boku thought it was the most amazing thing he’d ever witnessed.  He couldn’t stop talking about it as they left the theater, and as she carried him through the main floor of the casino, and as they walked outside.

He skipped along beside her, clinging to her fingers as she led him back toward the station.  “. . . and that man jumped on top of that other man, and then that girl climbed up to the top of all the men, and she stood on her hands and made her body go all twisty and curly!  And then that red princess lady did a jump and a flip and she landed on that twisty girl’s belly!  And then– those guys are fighting.  Are they bad guys?”

Nadina turned to look.  There was a brawl going on in an alleyway behind the casino they had just left.  She was about to turn away and move on when something made her stop and take another look. 

One man was huddled against a wall, holding his face as if he had a broken nose.  Two other men were still fighting their assailant, a slender teenager with pale blonde hair who had his back to her.  It was this person that had made her give a double-take.

The two men still fighting the young man were both very large and capable-looking.  The taller of the two appeared to be of northern-Chinese descent, with short-cropped black hair and a wide jaw.  The other was a bit leaner, with more of a Korean look to his features, and had shaggy red-brown hair that stuck out fashionably in all directions.  As Nadina watched, the red-haired man bent low, thrust his arms out in front of him, and rushed forward to tackle the blonde boy’s middle.  But the boy shifted to one side at the last second and lifted one knee hard, right into the red-haired man’s diaphragm, knocking the breath out of him.  Then the larger man ran at him, shouting wildly as he raised his fists high in the air and jumped to throw his whole weight into the massive blow he was aiming at the top of the boy’s head.  But the slight young man dodged this attack as well, turning smoothly out of the way and tripping up the man’s landing so that he fell head-first onto the concrete. 

Nadina watched him slam his small, pale fists into the bodies and faces of his attackers over and over, until she felt a small tug at her hand and looked down.

M’boku was staring up at her.  “Is he the bad guy?” he asked.

Nadina squeezed his hand and smiled at him.  “Not usually,” she replied.  She took a few steps toward the alleyway.

The young man stopped for a moment and turned to look at her.  He raised one bloody hand to brush his thick blonde hair out of his face.  He had a smooth, round face and a small, pouty mouth.  A pretty little nose.  His right eye was very beautiful– large and round, the color of milk chocolate, with a thick fringe of dark brown lashes.  The patch across his left eye had been shoved up onto his forehead, revealing the gruesome, knotted scar that disfigured his eyelid and spilled out over his eyebrow and the top of his cheek.  He had no lashes on that eye, and he couldn’t open it as widely as he could open the other, but he could still see through it, and he peered at Nadina with both eyes.

“Nadina?”

Nadina lifted M’boku and rested him on one hip.  “Alexei.  What are you doing here?”

27- Xerondar

Dude.  Seriously.

GET.

A.

LIFE.

And that’s ME talking.

Xerondar laughed.  Over the past few weeks he’d gotten used to Fanzou’s dramatic way of starting conversations.  He certainly knew how to get his point across.  Xerondar took a sip of Dr. Pepper and bent over his laptop to respond.  And what exactly do you suggest I do?  He pressed enter and waited.  Seconds later he heard another soft ping sound from his laptop speakers.

What did you do all that time she was gone?  Mope around and dream up the creepiest ways to stalk her when she got back?

He choked a little on his drink and some of the fizzy liquid sprayed out of his nostrils.  That hurt.  Xerondar reached for a napkin to wipe off the computer screen, then wiped the sticky stuff off of his nose and chin.  He thought for a moment before he replied.  Mostly I just attended classes.

Yeah I noticed.  Your transcripts are ridiculously impressive.

At this point Xerondar wasn’t even surprised that Fanzou had seen his transcripts.  Was there anything this man didn’t have access to?  Well I had a lot of time on my hands.

And you still do.  Come on, man.  You didn’t pick up a century’s worth of college credits just to walk around the neighborhood spying on a toddler all day.

Xerondar sighed.  Well, he was right about that.

You can’t even talk to her for another 10 or 12 years.  What’s the point?

He sat back and took another sip of his Dr. Pepper.  It was true that she wouldn’t be awakening for another decade or so.  But still.  I’ve missed her.  Surely you can understand that?

Of course.  We all have those feelings.  You think I don’t miss Xiaoli?  I think about her all the time.  I’m going to want to see her every day when she gets back.  But I won’t.

Xerondar rolled his eyes.  Sure, he wouldn’t.  It was easy to talk like that, when Xiaoli wasn’t even in the world yet.  Why not? he replied.  If you have a chance to see her, why wouldn’t you?

One word: DIGNITY.

I still have mine.

Xerondar frowned.  He wasn’t really that bad, was he?  It wasn’t like he was camped out in front of her house or anything.  And he’d been keeping his distance.  Waving from the porch every morning instead of asking to hold her actually took a lot of restraint.  Of course, he only did that because too much close contact so early would be dangerous for her.

You’re right, he typed.  Maybe I do need to back off a little.  Perhaps he could sign up for some classes somewhere.  There were a couple of universities in town.  And a new mixed martial arts place had just opened up down the street.

Ya think? Fanzou sent back.  You could always come down here for a few months.  Sao Paulo is really beautiful this time of year.  We could hit the beaches.  I could really use a tan.

Xerondar smiled.  Fanzou probably spent every minute hunched over a computer in a windowless room every day while the rest of Brazil played in the sun right outside his door.  He could just picture it.  No, he replied.  I can’t go that far away from her.  What if something happens and she needs me?

The whole point is to get away from her.  She’s an infant.  She’ll be fine.

Sure she would be fine.  Wasn’t that what people always said right before disaster struck?  I don’t know, he sent.  It would feel like I’m abandoning her.  It wouldn’t be right.

Everybody does it sometimes.  You know Mila was born in Japan a couple years ago, and that same day Alexei got on a plane for South Africa.  He hasn’t even seen her once.

South Africa, huh?  Xerondar could easily guess which city.  So that kid was still up to his same old tricks.

Grushilde’s in Australia and she’s almost 15 now, and Karl’s still chilling in Switzerland like nothing’s up.

Xerondar didn’t know much about Karl.  He belonged to one of Shepetheleh’s followers.  Don’t think I’ve met him.

The point is you need to get out more.  DO something besides sit at home and pine over the little drool machine like a lost puppy.

Okay you’re right, Xerondar conceded.  I’ve been acting pathetic.

So you’ll come?

Come where?  Brazil?  Had he actually been serious about that?  Xerondar thought for a minute before he responded.  I’ll think about it, he sent.  He looked at his watch and glanced up the street.  For now, I have to go.

Time to wave at the baby?

Xerondar laughed.  Yeah, he admitted.

Lol okay.  Later, man.  Think about my offer.

I will.

26- Hespah

“Ms. Stille, I feel like I must express my concern here.  When I said that he could resume normal activities, this was not what I had in mind!”

Hespah nodded to placate the man as she walked him to the door.

“Both of them are in very serious condition.  If either of them would let me, I’d have them both checked into a proper hospital and placed under twenty-four-hour supervision for at least a week!”  He began waving his hands in the air as he spoke. 

Hespah rolled her eyes behind his back.  He was really overreacting.

At the door he paused, and Hespah stifled the instinct to flinch when he took one of her hands and held it in both of his as if it were some small animal.  He tilted his head and smiled at her.  “Of course, I know you’re not to blame in any of this, Ms. Stille,” he said in that gentle, condescending tone that older gentlemen often used when speaking to small children, the mentally ill, and empty-headed pretty young women, “But as they won’t leave this house and they’ve both refused to hire a nurse, you’ll be the only one here to see that they’re properly cared for.”

Hespah nodded again.  “Don’t worry, doctor,” she replied, “I’ll take good care of them.”

He nodded.  “I’m sure that you will.  I’ve given them both a list of prescriptions.  Please see that they’re filled, and that they both stay in their beds.  I’ll be here again in one week to check up on them, but if anything happens before then, please give me a call.”

“I will.”

He was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned to her again.  “First the stab-wounds, now the impact injuries . . . Ms. Stille . . . I’ve been wondering for quite some time now . . .  Exactly what line of work are they in?”

Hespah smiled sweetly.  “They’re accountants,” she told him.

He frowned as if that were the most contradictory idea he’d ever heard, but after just a brief hesitation, he said his goodbyes and hurried out to his car.

Hespah closed the door behind him and laughed.  Really, Karl and Jacob just needed to rest for a few days and they’d both be fine.  If that doctor hadn’t come for one last check-up on Karl’s previous injuries, they never would have even seen a doctor.  A few fractured bones and some light internal bleeding was nothing to get excited about in this house.  They all knew how to take care of themselves around here.

And she’d gone easy on them– she always did.  Hespah paused to look at the bruises on her knuckles.  Okay, so maybe she’d been a little stressed out lately.  Maybe she’d been itching for a good fight for a few weeks.  Maybe she’d gotten a bit carried away, and maybe she’d unintentionally taken a little more of her frustrations out on Jacob and Karl than she had meant to.  But really, if they couldn’t even handle that much of a fight, they seriously needed to work on their skills.  She hated to think what would happen to Fortitude or Grushilde if someone like Tsu Lai or Nadina came after them when Jacob and Karl were unarmed.  Sure, they were relatively young, but that was no excuse.

And if Shepetheleh were ever in a situation where he had to rely on those two . . .

No way in hell would she let Shepetheleh come to harm because those two idiots had let themselves get out of shape.  She decided that as soon as they were both fully recovered, they would start training with her.  Hespah headed up the stairs to inform them both of this decision.

She came upon Fortitude in the second-floor corridor.  Something about the look on her face made Hespah stop.  Fortitude was staring at her with so much anger in those dark green eyes that Hespah took a step back.

“You hurt Jacob, and you don’t even care,” she accused.  “You hurt Karl, and you don’t even care.”  She took a step toward Hespah.  “You are supposed to be our friend.  Our ally.  We trusted you.”  She came closer, and Hespah felt the wall against her back.

“Fortitude . . . I’m sorry . . .”  Hespah scrambled for words.  “I didn’t mean to hurt them that much.”

Fortitude’s eyes narrowed. “All you’ve done is blame them and call them weak.  You haven’t even apologized.”

“I– I will . . .”

“No.”  Fortitude shook her head, her dusty-blonde hair bouncing around her face.  “It’s too late.”

“Fortitude, you don’t understand.  We were just practicing.  This kind of thing . . . it’ll make them stronger–”

Fortitude’s pallid cheeks flushed with color.  “They certainly don’t look stronger to me!”

“Just ask Jacob.  He’ll tell you . . .”

“No!”  Fortitude was nearly shouting now.  “I don’t want to hear them making excuses for you again!”

Hespah’s head was beginning to hurt.  She’d never seen Fortitude this angry before.  “Listen,” Hespah said, “They’ll both be fine.  Just give them a couple of days and you’ll see.”

Fortitude took another step toward her.  The pressure around Hespah’s temples intensified until it was getting difficult to bear.  “You just stay away from them!” Fortitude shouted, and this time  Hespah heard the power behind her words before she even finished the sentence.  “Stay away from all of us!”

Hespah cursed as she stumbled to her own rooms and slammed the door behind her.  Her head was in excruciating pain, and she could feel Fortitude’s command like steel bands wrapping around her.

That little bitch.

Hespah made her way to the toilet and forced herself to vomit, relieving some of the pressure in her head.  Damn that bitch.  She leaned over the sink to rinse her mouth out and rub cold water on her face.  She stared into the mirror.  Her face was so red.  She lifted a shaky hand to wipe the hot tears from her eyes.

“Shepetheleh, where are you?” she whispered. 

That was the real problem here.  Fortitude would never have tried something like this if Shepetheleh were around.  She wouldn’t have dared.  Fear of Shepetheleh’s wrath usually kept all of them in line.  And Hespah was supposed to be untouchable.

Maybe she would tell him about this when he got back.  She thought about that as she climbed into her bed and pulled the blankets up over her head.  How much longer would she have to wait for him?  She needed him there now.  Everything was better when Shepetheleh was with her.

Hespah pictured him as she had seen him last.  He’d been tall and strong and beautiful.  Full of power and authority.  So clever and wise.  Fearless.  She tried to imagine what he would do if he were there right now.

He’d make that little bitch grovel at her feet.  Hespah belongs to me, he would say.  A hand lifted against her is a hand lifted against me.  And he would find some perfect and clever way to punish Fortitude for what she did.  Hespah could just see it.  And then he would ask Hespah if she was okay, and clap her on the shoulder, and leave the room to go about his business.

Hespah sighed.  Even in her fantasy, he treated her like a man.

25- Tsu Lai

Aterat began to move her foot and Tsu Lai jerked his hand away so as not to smudge the paint.  She had been particularly fidgety all morning.  A week before, there had been an e-mail from Precia stating that Desiderius had awakened and that they would be arriving on this day.

It had been six years since they’d had one of Aterat’s children living with them.  She pretended her usual nonchalance, but Tsu Lai could tell she was nervous and excited.  He knew she had been lonely without one of her own around.  He just hoped that Desiderius wanted to see her as much as she wanted to see him.

The domestics were all busy making everything perfect for Desiderius’s arrival, so Tsu Lai had been the only one to attend Aterat herself today.  He enjoyed being able to serve her like this.  He had prepared her breakfast, helped her bathe, helped her dress, arranged her hair . . . and now he was very carefully applying enamel to her toenails.  They were red, with a gold latticework design on the tips.  It was very delicate work, and if he messed one up and had to start it over, he knew she would be very irritated with him.

Her foot stopped moving, and he gently took it up again so that he could continue applying the gold paint, smiling to himself as he did so.  Aterat wasn’t the only one who was excited about Desiderius’s return.  Tsu Lai had been lonely as well, over the past few years.  He hadn’t had an equal to talk to in so long.  And he hadn’t seen Precia in decades.  They had always gotten along well.

He finished the last thin line of gold and sat back to close up the bottle.  Aterat lifted her foot to inspect his work.  “Good,” she said, then added, “Shoes.”

Tsu Lai stood and nodded, then left the dressing room.  He placed the two bottles of nail enamel in the box where they belonged, then entered her shoe closet to select the appropriate footwear.  He stared at the shelves with their rows of shoes, trying to remember which ones belonged with that red silk dress she had on.  He was fairly certain it was a pair of sandals with lots of straps on it.  There were three shelves that held strappy sandals.  He closed his eyes and tried to picture what her feet had looked like the last time he’d seen her in that particular dress.

He sighed.  This was not his area of expertise.  

He knew Aterat would be irritated with him if he chose the wrong ones.  He was tempted to call the girl who usually dressed her, to ask which shoes he should pick.  But she was helping to prepare Desiderius’s rooms, and besides, asking her would just be too humiliating for him.  This was something he should be able to do himself.

He tried thinking logically.  Red dress.  Red and gold paint on her toes.  Gold ribbons and red flowers in her hair.  It would only make sense that the shoes would be either red or gold.  He took down the seven pair of sandals that met that criteria and arranged them on the floor.  Then he cast aside the two red pair that were darker than her dress.  That narrowed it down to five pair.  Tsu Lai leaned against the closet door and groaned.  Did every woman have this many shoes?

Tsu Lai heard a loud sigh from the dressing room.  Aterat was getting impatient with him.  He needed to hurry.  He grabbed a pair of nice-looking gold ones and left the closet.

He tried to be casual and not call any attention to the shoes in his hand as he reentered the dressing room, but Aterat’s eyes went straight to them.  She frowned.  “Those aren’t the ones I wear with this dress,” she said in a confused tone.

“I’m sorry,” Tsu Lai replied with an apologetic bow.  He turned back toward the closet to make a second attempt.

“Oh, forget it,” she snapped.  “Those will do.  I don’t have time to waste.”

She was irritated with him.  He could tell.  But she wasn’t as upset as he’d thought she would be.  He knelt down and strapped the little gold sandals onto her feet.  Then he slipped a small gold ring onto the middle toe of each foot and fastened a gold chain around her left ankle.  He placed rings on her fingers and bracelets on her arms, a pair of gold earrings in her ears, and a gold chain set with rubies around her neck.

He showed her a mirror.  She smiled.  Tsu Lai’s breath caught in his chest.  Aterat looked like a divine goddess when she smiled.  “Now do my face.”

Tsu Lai balked.  Her face?  As in . . . cosmetics?

Aterat’s eyes left the mirror and looked up at him, reading his expression.  She tsked and stood up.  “Never mind, I’ll do it myself,” she declared with a wave of her hand.  “You’d just make me look like a clown anyway.”  She seated herself in front of the vanity table in the corner and began opening a jar of some sort of green oily substance.  “Just go . . . prepare something.  Desiderius will be here in less than three hours.”

Tsu Lai left the room.  He went to the kitchen to check on the preparations for the evening’s meal, then he went to Desiderius’s suite to see how it was coming along.  His rooms were beautiful.  Every amenity had been prepared for him.  There were new logs in the fireplace in his sitting room– the good madrone wood that had been seasoning in the woodshed for almost two years.  The bath had been supplied with various fine salts and oils, as well as a few strategically-placed scented candles.  The dressing room had new furniture, and the closets had new cedar clothes-hangers and sachets of dried flowers and cedar chips.  There were fresh flowers in the bedroom and new coverings on the bed.  And on one bedside table was a small stack of books– a gift for Desiderius from Aterat herself.  Tsu Lai inspected everything and ordered the windows opened to air out the residual smells of furniture polish and bleach water. 

He then headed up toward his own room, stopping along the way to check Precia’s room.  It was clean.  The floor had been swept, the furniture had been dusted, and the window had been washed.  The sheets on the bed had been changed and the curtains on the window were fresh.  He peeked into her bathroom.  It was clean as well– there was toilet paper and fresh soap, and some clean towels in the cabinet by the bathtub.  Good.

Upon entering his own room, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection and decided a quick shower would not be remiss.  He washed, and then he dried and combed out his silky, knee-length black hair.  He brushed his teeth and shaved off the light sprinkling of stubble that had appeared on his chin and upper lip.  Since Aterat had been so particular about her own appearance today, Tsu Lai decided that he would also be expected to dress for the occasion.  He donned his best black tunic and the matching black pants and, thinking to please Aterat, he wrapped a bright red sash around his waist.  He laughed to himself as he slipped on his “special occasion” shoes, thinking of Aterat’s shoe closet.  He glanced at the clock.  It had been about an hour since he’d left her.  He wanted to be by her side when Desiderius arrived.

Tsu Lai opened the large wooden armoir in the corner of the room and perused its contents, trying to select a weapon.  He fingered his favorite katana.  No.  A long sword like that might call too much attention to itself.  He wanted to be subtle about it, so he wouldn’t risk offending anyone.  He looked over a few of his shorter blades, hesitating for a moment over a three-hundred-year-old sgian dubh that he had kept as a relic from their time spent in Scotland.  Then he saw it.  A beautiful Mughal dagger with an ornate gilded hilt and matching sheath.  It had been a gift from Desiderius himself, so long ago that Tsu Lai had almost forgotten about it.  He lifted it out and unsheathed it.  The blade was good.  And it was so ostentatious-looking that it could easily be seen as merely decorative.

Tsu Lai smiled.  It was only appropriate that he be wearing the dagger that Desiderius had given him when he went to greet the man.  He selected his finest sharpening stone and began to run it down the edge of the blade.

It wasn’t that he particularly mistrusted Desiderius or Precia.  He happened to really like them both.  He just knew better than to blindly trust anyone, especially where Aterat’s own safety was concerned.  He knew Precia would understand this, and in fact he was certain that she would be armed today, as well.  It had nothing to do with their personal feelings.

But he also knew that it was best to be always prepared for a change of fealty.  If Desiderius ever did decide to revolt against Aterat, he wouldn’t be the first to do so.  Or even the second.

Just because Aterat was the one who first brought Desiderius into this world– just because she loved him and treated him as her own son– that did not mean that he would remain eternally loyal to her.  After all, Aterat had left Shepetheleh.  And that had marked the beginning of a violent struggle that had been going on for over a millenium now.

Of course, not every falling-out had started a war.  Tsu Lai remembered when M’boku and Nadina had left.  Aterat had been so glad to finally be rid of that lunatic that she had calmly allowed them to go, asking only that they never return.  And when Lyudmila and Alexei had decided to follow after them, Aterat had put up very little resistance, claiming that Mila simply wasn’t worth fighting for. 

But then, a few centuries later, when Dellanira and Xerondar had chosen to break their ties with her, Aterat had been furious.  She’d tried everything in her power to prevent Nira from leaving, until the day Shepetheleh came to take advantage of their in-fighting and attacked while Aterat’s attention was divided.  She had been forced to shift her focus to him, and she’d had to let Dellanira go as a result.  To this day, Aterat was still dreaming up ways to convince Nira to return to her.

Tsu Lai looked down the edge of the blade, then tested it by shaving the fine little hairs off of one of his knuckles.  It was perfect.  He wiped it down with an oilcloth and slipped it back into its sheath, then tucked it neatly into his sash.

He glanced at the clock.  Desiderius and Precia would be arriving in about an hour and a half.  He decided it was time to get back to Aterat.  On his way, he caught the attention of a boy with a dustcloth and instructed him to have someone send a large vase of fresh flowers to Precia’s room.

He found Aterat in her study, pacing back and forth in front of her desk with an unopened book in her hand, thin layers of red silk swirling around her ankles as she moved.  Even in this nervous state, she made an impressive sight.  “Where do you plan to greet them?” he asked her.

She stopped and turned to look at him.  “Would it be too old-fashioned to have him come to me in the main hall, like we used to?”

Tsu Lai smiled.  Before, whenever one of Aterat’s children had awakened and come to her, they had been presented to her in a large hall and had knelt at her feet while she sat imperiously on a dias in the center of the room.  But these days it was a little ridiculous to greet someone that way, and even modern royalty almost never behaved like that.  “I think you’re right,” he replied.  “It might seem . . . impersonal.”

“I see.”

“Especially considering that Desiderius is newly awakened,” he reminded her.

“Of course.  His head is still full of his modern lifestyle.”  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I’ll meet him in the sun-room,” she decided.  “We can . . . have tea together.”  She left to give the orders about the sun-room and the tea service. 

Tsu Lai followed her out, smiling at her awkward, anxious manner.  Most people never really tried to understand Aterat, and as a result she was often perceived as a cold, shrewd woman who only cared about her own self-importance.  But that simply wasn’t the truth.  He supposed he might be a little biased toward her, but Tsu Lai knew that Aterat had never bothered to hide any part of herself from him.  He knew her better than anyone, and in his view, she was a soft and vulnerable person with plenty of insecurities and a deep loneliness inside her. 

He also knew that if he ever described her that way to anyone, she would flog him mercilessly for it, just to prove him wrong.

24- Jacob

Sneaking one more glance into the library to make certain that Fortitude was still sleeping soundly in her favorite chair, Jacob ran a hand through his smooth brown hair and opened the door to the basement staircase. He'd been so busy lately that he hadn’t had a chance to get a decent workout in days, and today his body was begging him to go downstairs and give it a proper beating.

He didn’t have anyone to spar with. Karl was still on doctor’s orders to take it easy, and even if he weren’t, Jacob hadn’t even seen Karl since before his doctor’s visit that morning. And Hespah had been sulking around and avoiding him for the past two weeks. Karl said it was probably just jealousy. Seeing him with Fortitude made her want Shepetheleh even more. Jacob could understand that. 

Especially since Shepetheleh hadn’t even entered a carrier yet. His return was still a long way off.

So Jacob was working out alone today. Perhaps he’d start with a little yoga to stretch out his stiff muscles, then some calisthenics, and maybe an hour or two in the weight room, and then he planned to strap on some gloves and spend a good three or four hours breaking in his new punching bag. He grinned at the prospect– it had been a while since he’d last thrown a punch.

Midway down the stairs he heard the muffled sound of gunshot coming from the general direction of the shooting range. Curious, he ran down the rest of the staircase and trotted toward the far corner where the shooting range had been installed.

He opened the door and was instantly overwhelmed by a blaring cacophony of screaming voices and electric guitars, punctuated by the methodical rhythm of a gun being shot to the beat of the so-called "music". Grinning, Jacob took a pair of ear-plugs from the shelf by the door and shoved them into his ears before heading toward the last stall.

Karl was making a perfect pentagram of evenly-spaced bullet-holes in the center of the man-shaped target in front of him. He was wearing the black fitted Nike t-shirt Jacob had given him, and the gray rip-stop Dakine shorts with the little pockets on the back. Jacob loved those shorts. But alas, he was ruining the effect with a thick pair of brown wool socks. Brown. Jacob rolled his eyes.  That man would never learn.

The pentagram complete, Karl finished the target off with a shot to the center of its head, a shot in the center of each hand, and one in the crotch, before he set his gun down and pressed the button for a new target. Jacob took the opportunity to tap him on the shoulder while he was unarmed.

Karl turned around and flashed a dazzling smile, then fumbled for the little remote in his pocket to stop the music.

"Karl!" Jacob shouted with a grin as he removed the plugs from his throbbing ears, "What the hell are you doing?"

Karl shrugged. "The doctor said I can train again, as long as I don’t push myself too hard."

"And you don’t think firing a gun is going to jar your injuries at all?"

"No, it’s fine. Really." Karl rolled his eyes. "I’ve been trying to tell you for more than a week now, I’m all healed up."

Jacob crossed his arms. "And your doctor agrees with you about that?"

"Absolutely." Karl took a step forward and cocked a mischievous half-smile. "I’m fit to resume all of my normal activities."

Jacob raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh, really?" His eyes wandered over the fitted black shirt, the perfectly-tailored gray shorts . . . and those offensive brown socks poking up from the tops of Karl’s black and white cross-trainers. He sighed. "Okay then. Why don’t you meet me on the mat for a little light sparring?"

Karl grinned.  "You're on.  Just give me a minute to put things away in here."

"Of course. I have to stretch out first anyway."

Less than five minutes later, the two of them were circling each other in the center of a large blue mat.

Jacob began with a standard boxing stance. He kept his head down, his fists up to guard his face. He kept his knees slightly bent for freedom of movement and continuously shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, ready to dodge or strike whenever he had to. "Don’t worry," he said, "I’ll go easy on you."

"Don’t bother." Karl, as he usually did when the two of them had a bare-knuckle sparring match, adopted a basic jiu-jitsu stance– hands out in front of him, pawing lightly at the air like a cat swatting at a toy, feet apart and knees bent low, with most of his weight settled over his front leg, but ready to shift to the other leg at any moment.

Jacob made an opening jab with his left fist, but Karl dodged low and swatted it away with one hand. Jacob pulled back and bounced a little, then came back in with a quick one-two aimed low, which actually landed on Karl’s sides, and ending with a right uppercut aimed at his jaw, which Karl caught in an iron grip with his right hand. Knowing better than to try to pull his arm free, Jacob took advantage of Karl’s one-handed defense– and his lower stance– to send a candy cane punch right at Karl’s ear.

But as his left fist came down, his right arm twisted, and in one fluid motion, Jacob found himself on the floor, his face smashed into the mat, with Karl sitting on his back. Jacob wriggled backward until Karl was positioned over his shoulders, then thrust his body upward so that Karl was knocked head-first into the mat, then he bounced back up onto his feet, trying to regain his boxer’s advantage. But as soon as he was standing again, Karl’s right leg hooked around Jacob’s left knee, and his other leg swept across the fronts of Jacob's ankles so that he collapsed back down onto the floor again.

"Damn you, Karl," Jacob grunted as he tried to fend off the arms and legs that were wrapping themselves around his shoulders and knees. "You have the body of a snake!"

"Yeah, well . . ." Karl gasped as he hooked his elbows around Jacob’s shoulders and clasped his hands behind his head, pushing Jacob’s chin into the mat, "You said you were going to go easy on me . . ."

Jacob wriggled under Karl’s weight but found he couldn’t effectively move anything. "I was going easy on you . . . I thought you were still weak from your injuries . . . my mistake."

Karl climbed up off of him and sat down on the mat, breathing hard. "Well, it sure didn’t feel like you were pulling your punches . . ." he muttered as he pulled off his shirt to inspect his ribs.  In addition to the fresh red scars that still decorated much of his torso, two large, ugly welts had already formed on the sides of his body where Jacob had hit him.

Jacob sat up, rubbing the back of his neck and rolling his right shoulder where it had been twisted. "I always pull my punches when we fight," he muttered. "I don’t actually want to hurt you."

"No shit. Both of you were holding back."

Jacob and Karl both turned to see Hespah’s new face watching them from the foot of the stairs. She was dressed in a pair of gray yoga pants and a red tank top that showed off all of the tight, hard muscles in her arms. "If you two really fought with each other like you do with me, you’d both be completely ass-fucked for a week." She smirked at them, then added, "In a bad way."

Jacob grinned. He supposed that was true. What he and Karl did in here was really just play-fighting, after all.

Hespah kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the mat in her bare feet. "Now who wants to go against me?"

Jacob and Karl exchanged a wary glance.

"Well, Karl’s still supposed to be taking things slow right now . . ." Jacob told her.

She rolled her eyes.  "That's an old lady's excuse," she replied with a dismissive flip of her cherry-red hair.  Then she looked at Jacob.  "So what about you?"

"Well . . ."

Hespah growled, then pulled off her tank top and tossed it aside, revealing a black sports bra and a set of eight impossibly chiseled abs. "Fine then," she said as she crouched down onto her hands and feet like some wild cat coiled for a pounce. "I’ll take both you assholes."

Jacob knew that look in her eyes, even with the new face. Taking a deep breath, he adopted a wide, low stance and raised his fists up to guard his head.

Hespah smirked at Jacob, then turned to Karl. "Come on, blondie," she called, "I promise I’ll be gentle."

Reluctantly, Karl stepped forward, then decided to forego the usual opening stance and dropped right into a strange seated position, his arms and legs out at odd angles, his hands open like he was ready to catch something. It was an odd sight for Jacob, but Hespah apparently recognized this pose, because she smiled, reared back, and launched herself.