Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Rachael Yukey

We have bent the rules, we have lied
Loved and known you’ll rise again
Friends will do all this for you
Sonata Arctica, 2024

Closing Nettie’s bedroom door carefully behind her, Hannah padded down the hall in the direction of the muted voices coming from the kitchen. The hallway opened out into the living room, and Julie waved to her from the opposite side, where she was seated on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island, Cindy on her left. Both wore bathrobes, and were sipping from steaming mugs of coffee.

Rising at Hannah’s approach, Julie plucked a mug from a hook below one of the cupboards. “How do you take your coffee?” she said, keeping her voice low.

Hannah gave her a warm smile. “With a little cream, if there is any.”

She settled onto a barstool, watching as Julie poured the coffee, stirred in a splash of cream, then set the cup in front of her. “Thanks. Halee still asleep?”

Cindy and Julie exchanged a cautious glance. “Haven’t seen her yet,” Cindy’s tone was evasive, her cheeks pink.

“Oh, stop,” said Hannah. “I know she spent the night with you two. Think I’ve never done the same thing? I thought we established last night that we’re all on the same page.” Cindy’s face relaxed into a grin; Julie turned her eyes to the ceiling with a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that. I figured you knew what was gonna go down,” said Cindy. “Still… plausible deniability, y’know? I’m glad we’re sympatico on this.”

“To answer your question, Halee was still out when I got up twenty minutes ago,” said Julie. “We gave her a workout.” Hannah chuckled into her coffee.

“I take it tall, dark, and moody is still in dreamland, too?” Cindy inquired.

“Yeah,” said Hannah, taking a cautious sip of the steaming brew. “I don’t think she slept well. I got up twice to use the bathroom, and she was awake both times.”

The glance Cindy and Julie exchanged was not lost on Hannah, but she said nothing. She had questions to which these two probably had answers, but couldn’t think of a tactful way to pose them.

“So!” said Cindy, breaking the momentary awkwardness, “is there a plan for today? Three-fourths of the Pussy Posse are in town, and it’s my weekend off. We should do something.”

Hannah abruptly set her mug down. “The—what? Pussy Posse?”

Julie snickered. “It’s what me, Mallory, Cindy, and our friend Emma used to call ourselves. Other girls came and went, but the four of us were like sisters from the sixth grade all the way through high school.”

“Sisters with benefits,” said Cindy with a wink.

“Sounds idyllic,” said Hannah. “I think I’m kind of jealous.”

“It was pretty sweet,” Julie agreed.

Three sets of eyes swiveled toward the hallway at the sound of a doorknob turning. A puffy-eyed Halee emerged, saw them looking her way, and gave a limp-wristed wave before disappearing into the bathroom.

Julie turned her eyes back to Cindy. “We’ll figure something out,” she said, “once Mal emerges from penis-land.” She glanced over at Hannah. “And after Nettie drags herself out of bed.”

Hannah shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on a reunion of old friends…”

“No, no,” Cindy broke in. “People hanging with us is just part of the tradition. It was always me, Emma, Julie, and Mallory, but lots of others were in and out.”

The bathroom door opened once more, and Halee padded down the hall toward them. She was wearing the clothes she’d arrived in the evening before.

“Morning, sunshine,” said Cindy.

“Any coffee left?” Halee wanted to know. Answering her own question with a glance towards the Braun, she changed course, heading for the cups hanging under the cupboard.

Julie rose quickly from her stool. “Sit, sit. I’ll get it for you. Want anything in it?”

Halee’s head swung back and forth in slow motion. “Nope. Thanks.” She plopped her backside onto the stool next to Hannah’s.

“Black coffee at thirteen,” said Cindy with a chuckle. “When I was your age I was still having chocolate milk for breakfast.”

Julie set the cup down in front of Halee. Nodding her thanks, the girl raised the piping hot beverage to her lips.

“Remember that old wives tale,” said Julie as she reseated herself, “that you couldn’t give coffee to kids because caffeine would stunt their growth?”

Cindy snorted. “My mom believed that bullshit,” she said, “but she didn’t think twice when I was guzzling pop by the gallon, and that stuff’s full of caffeine.”

Halee rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That’s ludicrous. Pop is, in every conceivable way, far worse for you than coffee.” She took another sip. “That said, I have been known to suck one down every once and again.”

Cindy burst out laughing. Halee’s eyes narrowed. “Something I said?”

“Kinda,” said Cindy, still chuckling. “Sorry. It’s just that you’re really starting to sound like your dad.”

Hannah snickered. “I was thinking the same thing. Sorry, hon.”

Halee relaxed, rolled her eyes, and sipped more coffee. “Whatevs. It’s what Nettie says, too. GIve me a break; I’ve been listening to the guy chatter nonstop for thirteen years.”

“And when she says nonstop, she ain’t tellin’ tales,” said Cindy with a grin.

All eyes flicked in the direction of the hallway at the muffled sound of a pager going off. “Uh-oh,” Julie muttered.

“I don’t think Antoinette is on call today…” Hannah trailed off at the sound of flurried activity coming from the master bedroom.

“Maybe not,” said Cindy, “but Nettie’s the only medic on the squad. If she thinks they need ALS, she’ll go.”

Sure enough, the door flew open a moment later, revealing a tousle-headed Nettie dressed in tactical pants and a light blue Bronning Ambulance hoodie. She was speaking into her portable radio. “Bronning medic to on-call.”

“Wilder here.” Terry’s voice.

“I’m jumping on with you,” said Nettie as she crossed the living room. “Don’t leave without me, and make sure my ALS bag is in whichever rig you’re taking.”

“Scott’s my partner,” Terry replied, “you’ll get to the station before he does.”

“Copy that,” said Nettie, shoving her feet into her boots and bending double to lace them.

“Sorry,” she said, craning her neck to look at her guests. “Based on the dispatch, I’m smelling sepsis. They might need blood pressure support, and the EMTs can’t do that. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“What do you have for that, aside from fluids?” Hannah wanted to know.

“Just added Levophed to my ALS kit here in Bronning,” Nettie replied as she straightened. “Literally last week. We’ve had it for awhile at work.”

“Nice!” said Hannah. “That’s what I’d use, too. Do what you gotta do, hon. I’ll wait.” She blew a little kiss, bringing a smile to Nettie’s lips. Then she was gone, pulling the door closed behind her.

Julie drained her mug, then slid off the barstool and turned towards the half-full carafe. “Anyone want a refill?”

Cindy handed her cup over. Julie refilled them both, stirred a spoonful of sugar into Cindy’s, and settled back in, placing both mugs on the table. Then she began patting down the pockets of her bathrobe, locating and retrieving her phone. “If Terry just got paged out,” she said, “I imagine Mal’s awake now if she wasn’t already.”

She tapped at the screen, then set the phone on the counter. It was on speaker, and Mallory picked up after the first ring. “Morning, love,” she said.

Julie grinned. “Since you don’t sound completely dead to the world, I’m guessing you’ve already been up for at least an hour.”

“Fuck yourself, love,” Mallory replied in a too-sweet voice.

“If I did, I’d be playing for an audience,” Julie replied. “You’re on speaker, by the way. Everyone in the house has been told to go fuck themselves.” A low chuckle issued forth from the other end of the line.

“Anyway,” Julie went on, “we were just talking about finding some kind of trouble to get up to today. Got any ideas?”

“I dunno,” Mallory replied. “Cindy lives around here, maybe she can think of something.”

Cindy tipped her head back, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Remember how we used to go out to Lake Norman, bring some lunch, just hang out and fish? Swim if it wasn’t too cold? There’s a river that runs a little ways east of town.”

Julie pursed her lips. “That sounds promising.”

“I’m in,” said Mallory’s disembodied voice.

Julie looked to Hannah, eyebrows raised. The redhead tilted her head to one side. “I’ve never been fishing in my life,” she said. “But if Antoinette’s up for it, I’ll try anything once.”

***

Heather Dulcey shivers beneath the single threadbare blanket the two girls share. A few hours earlier their captor threw it carelessly over them, then disappeared, bolting the door of the dingy old shed behind him. It’s not cold enough to freeze to death, but during the night it’s still cold enough for them to be miserable.

Gina dozes lightly against her shoulder, a bruise on her cheek where the haunted-looking middle-age man struck her for some undisclosed transgression, just before depositing them on the cracked concrete floor.

Heather weeps as she watches rays of the sun brighten tiny gaps between the siding planks, hoping that the day will warm quickly. She wonders what the bald man with the dead eyes wants with them. She looks at her sister, suddenly overcome with guilt. Gina tried to tell me. Why didn’t I listen?

Doing her best to cry quietly so as not to wake the sleeping girl, Heather buries her face in her hands.

***

“Jesus Christ, what have you got on there, Mal?” Cindy was hastily reeling her own line in. “Gimme a second and I’ll grab the net.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Mallory grunted, fumbling to loosen the drag on her reel with the hand that wasn’t gripping the handle of the bent-double fishing rod. “It’ll be a miracle if whatever this is doesn’t break the line.”

Nettie put aside the hook she’d been tying on for Hannah. “I’ve got the net, Cindy.”

Julie was shaking her head. “God, half of us don’t even have a line in the water yet, and Mal’s already hooked the Loch Ness fucking Monster.”

Swirling water splashed, the rapid-fire clicking sound of the drag assaulting their ears as the behemoth on the other end pulled line from the reel, moving fiercely downstream. Mallory gave the end of the rod a quick jerk, then stole back a little line as the fish redirected momentarily towards the bank.

“That’s it,” Julie encouraged. “Keep playing him. If he makes it to those rocks, you’re probably gonna lose him.”

“Don’t I know it,” muttered Mallory, jerking the tip of the rod in the other direction, then pulling in a bit more line. The fish changed heading again, diving once more for the rapids downstream, line playing out with that harsh buzz.

Hannah was staring open-mouthed, eyes darting between a grim-faced Mallory, and the churning water just beyond where the line disappeared beneath the surface. “Holy shit,” she said. “I have no idea what’s happening right now. Is something wrong with her pole? Why is the fish pulling string out?”

Nettie, now standing by the bank with net in hand, flashed a grin at her. “It’s called drag,” she said. “If there’s no give, the fish’ll just break the line.”

Hannah came up alongside Nettie, peering at the water. “So… what then? She has to keep fighting with it till it gets tired?”

“Yup,” replied Cindy. “With something that size you do. I’ve got six-pound test line on that reel, and she has something a hell of a lot bigger than that hooked. You can’t just brute-force it up to the shore.”

The five women had set themselves up in a secluded spot half a mile from the main road, following a trail that only Cindy’s pickup and Hannah’s recently purchased Jeep could negotiate. They were outfitted with fishing gear from Nettie’s late father’s stash, along with a couple of rods and a tent from Cindy’s house. Food had been packed, and fishing licenses had been obtained for Hannah, Julie and Mallory, the latter two hesitating only a moment over the exorbitant out-of-state fees. “Whatever,” Julie had said with a shrug. “I’m gonna need it anyway; Dad and I are going to Lake Anne for bass next week.”

Hannah’s eyes were glued to the water now, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was beneath. Suddenly the surface broke, a gaping maw momentarily visible, followed by a long stretch of shiny grey back. Then it was beneath the waves, thrashing furiously rather than trying to swim in any particular direction. In her peripheral vision, Hannah was aware of Mallory judiciously reeling in more line.

“It’s a pike,” Cindy was saying. “Fuckin’ big one, too!”

“I think you’ve got him now, Mal,” said Julie. “He’s not really pulling anymore.”

“Maybe,” said Mallory, “but I’m not going to get cocky…” and then line was playing out again, as the animal on the other end dove deeper and headed once more downstream. “See?” said Mallory, a slight smile on her lips as she raised the tip of the rod. Her eyes never wavered from the end of her line.

“Freakin’ pike,” said Julie, laughing. “I forgot how they get these sudden last-ditch energy reserves.”

Within moments, however, the fish was redirected once more, thrashing ineffectually as Mallory inexorably brought him back upstream. Line played out, then was retrieved. And again. The buzz of the drag was almost constant. Finally the creature was only feet from shore, clearly visible, hardly fighting at this point.

Nettie was moving in with the net, cautiously angling to slide it underneath the belly.

“Look at that,” said Julie. “It’s gotta be over three feet long.”

Slipping the hoop of the net along the river bed and under, Nettie hoisted the fish from the water.

“What would something like that weigh?” Hannah’s tones were hushed.

Nettie hefted experimentally. “Fifteen, sixteen pounds. Maybe more, ‘cos this one’s got some girth to it. Jesus.”

Hannah watched in silent fascination as Julie removed the hook from the gaping mouth with a set of forceps, Cindy secured a stringer through a gill, and the fish was placed back into the water, the stringer tied securely to a tree just off the bank.

“Whoa,” she finally said, as the others rinsed off their hands in the frigid river water, laughing and congratulating Mallory on one hell of a fight.

Nettie looked back to Hannah, expression softening. “Hope that didn’t put you too far off your lunch, sweetie.”

Hannah shook her head. “Are you kidding? Let’s finish getting my pole set up. It’s my turn!”

***

“Not too impressive, is it?” Hannah proclaimed, gazing at the fish dangling from the end of her line with a critical eye.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Cindy. “That’s one gorgeous crappie!”

“Yeah, but compared to…” she waved helplessly towards the point on the bank where the fish stringer disappeared beneath the surface.

“Apples to oranges,” said Nettie, gesturing with the half-eaten apple in her hand. “Nobody else here is gonna catch a pike that big today either, and anyway, they’re different species. Cindy’s right; that’s a damn good size for a crappie. It’d make a meal for two people, with some leftovers. It’s a great first catch. Put it on the stringer.” She bit into her apple with a satisfying crunch.

Hannah shrugged, her face breaking into a grin. “I just figured with how hard it fought…”

“That it’d be bigger?” Julie put in. “Naw. Crappie are in the bass family, which means they fight like hell once you hook ‘em. They taste like bass, too. It’s not as big as Mallory’s pike, but it’ll have a richer flavor.”

“Okay, then,” said Hannah. “Someone wanna show me how to get this sucker off the hook?”

***

“What—what is that you’re making?” Heather cringes, instantly regretting having opened her mouth. Beside her, Gina clutches her arm and whimpers. But her words invoke little reaction from the man seated on the floor across the shed from them, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes never waver from the stick he’s whittling to a sharp point with a large bowie knife.

Emboldened by the silence, Heather pipes up again. “What is it you want, anyway?” The last two words come out as a strident wail. Blue eyes flick upwards in her direction, a slight smile curling the corners of his mouth upwards. It is not a pleasant expression.

Heather cringes back against the wall as dawning realization courses through her. “You—you like it when we’re scared, don’t you?” Beside her, Gina begins to wail.

***

“Hannah—chow’s on.”

Hannah glanced over her shoulder to where Nettie beckoned from her place by the fire. Shadows were growing long as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. The other four were gazing at her expectantly. Mallory wielded a spatula, tending a cast-iron pan suspended over the fire. Julie had expertly filleted a handful of the smaller fish they’d caught for their dinner.

“Gimme a sec—something’s playing with my line.”

“Honey, that bait-stealing bastard’s been nibbling for five minutes,” said Cindy, not without sympathy. “If it was gonna grab, it would have by now.”

“Damn,” muttered Hannah, reeling in with a great show of reluctance. Since hooking into her first fish, she’d been like a woman possessed, her line out of the water only long enough to remove her catches and re-bait her hook.

“I think we’ve created a monster,” Mallory observed, flipping the last fish fillet out of the pan and onto a platter.

“Yeah—I thought you said you weren’t really the outdoorsy type,” Nettie called out as Hannah trudged up the bank to join them. She beckoned to the vacant camp chair next to hers. Hannah fixed her hook into an eyelet as the others had taught her, leaned her rod against a tree, and settled in. Nettie held out an end of the blanket that was draped across her shoulders, unfolding it until it encompassed both of them.

“Honestly, this is way more fun than I thought it was going to be,” said Hannah with a smile.

“You’re having a good first day,” said Julie. She was shoveling portions of fish onto plates along with raw veggies from the cooler, then passing them around. “You’ve caught what—three crappie, two bluegill, and a pike?”

“Thanks,” said Hannah, as she accepted her plate of steaming fish. “But just to set the record straight, it was five bluegill and two pike.”

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Cindy shot back, laughing. “Anything under keeping size does not count.”

Hannah tipped her middle finger to Cindy, an amiable smile on her face. She was delighted by how comfortable she’d grown with these women on such short acquaintance. Taking up her fork, she corralled a chunk of crappie. “Still caught ‘em,” she insisted.

Shoveling the forkful into her mouth, she rolled it around on her tongue, nodded appreciatively, and swallowed. “That’s delicious,” she said. “Wow. The fish itself, and—you seasoned it with something, didn’t you? Please tell me it’s not a secret ingredient.”

Cindy, Mallory, and Julie all burst out laughing. Hannah looked to Nettie, who only shrugged. Cindy rummaged in her pack and pulled out a plastic package with a picture of breaded fish on the front. The logo read SHORE LUNCH. “The secret ingredient,” Cindy declared.

“Don’t waste your time trying to create your own fish seasoning.” Mallory’s voice was a little muffled, and she seemed to belatedly realize she was talking around a bite of fish. She swallowed, then went on. “Shore Lunch was our secret weapon back in high school. You just moved to Johnstown, didn’t you? I’m pretty sure there’s a Fleet Farm there. They’ll have, like, ten or twelve different flavors of this stuff. Seasonings and breadings both. They’re nearly all fantastic.”

Hannah nodded, savoring another bite. “Seriously, I’m having a great time,” she said. “I can’t wait till Bethany gets here. Stuff like this is exactly why she says she wants to get out of the city.”

“Can’t wait to meet her,” said Cindy. “She’s the reason Halee didn’t come with us, right?”

“Yeah, those two were planning to video chat or something this evening,” said Hannah. “They’re getting pretty close.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nettie stifling a grin. Too late.

“Do I sense an undertone here?” said Julie with raised eyebrows.

Hannah snickered. “Oh, yes. You do indeed.”

***

Standing on a kitchen chair, Halee Wilder plugged a power cable into the back of the wireless router on a shelf above her father’s stereo. “Okay,” she announced. “Internet should be back on as soon as this thing reboots.”

“Ummm—was it not on to begin with?” Terry inquired, entering the living room.

“I ran CAT 6 up to my room,” said Halee. “This lame-ass router doesn’t want to hotplug for some reason. I had to reboot it to get it to recognize the new line and assign an IP.”

“Whoa—hold on there for just one second,” said Terry, pausing in the middle of the room. “You did what?”

“Ran CAT 6,” she repeated. “You know, ethernet cable. It’ll provide me with a hardwired connection to…”

Terry held up a hand to forestall the coming lecture. “Yes, thank you, daughter dearest, I know what CAT 6 is. The actual question I’m attempting to ask is why.”

“Because the wifi in my room is stupid and slow,” she replied.

“Fair enough,” said Terry, “but if I might be so indelicate as to inquire—what route did you choose to run said cable? Please tell me I won’t be stumbling across gaping holes inexpertly drilled through my walls.”

Halee giggled. “Relax. This house has more than enough holes in it already. I utilized the unused vent shaft behind your left speaker, ran it from there to the next floor, and then through the hole in my closet floor left over from a previous owner’s ill-advised wiring scheme, which you have thus far failed to repair. It was my thinking that it may as well get used for something.”

A door opened in the hallway, and Halee’s younger sister Dawn and her friend Allison emerged. “Seriously, Halee,” said Dawn as the two of them ambled through the living room. “You’ve gotta quit talking like that. The only way I can tell you two apart is that his voice is deeper.”

“And where might the two of you be off to?” Terry wanted to know.

“The park,” replied Dawn. “It’s nice out. You okay with that?”

“That depends. How trashed is your room?”

“Medium trashed. But I promise I’ll clean it after dinner.” Not even waiting for a reply, she strode off towards the foyer, Allison in her wake.

“I will hold you to that,” Terry called out behind her. He turned back towards Halee. “Is the wifi in your room really that bad?”

“You can do basic web surfing on it,” she replied. “But Bethany and I have plans to video chat after dinner, and the wifi connection on the second floor is inadequate for the purpose.”

Terry grinned. “Care to tell me what the two of you have to discuss that’s so private the meeting can’t be held down here?”

Halee grinned back, meeting his gaze head-on. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Terry’s eyebrows shot up, comprehension dawning on his face. “In point of fact, I probably wouldn’t,” he said. “Forget I asked. But Halee—have fun.”

***

The pointed stick grazes the flesh of Gina’s abdomen, leaving a scratch behind but not drawing blood. The girl shrieks in terror.

Tears stream down Heather’s cheeks. “Leave her alone, you f-fucking creep!” The man with the smooth-shaven head and haunted eyes doesn’t seem to hear her. Slowly, almost reverently, he draws another light scratch across Gina’s belly.

***

“You have to have the exact right mixture,” Cindy was saying as she poured vodka into a plastic cocktail cup. “Vodka up to this line, and then…” she stopped pouring, set the bottle aside, and screwed the top off a two-liter bottle of Sprite. “You pour the Sprite up to this line. See?” She held the cup out ceremoniously.

“So it’s all about the lines that are molded into the cups,” said Hannah, accepting the proffered drink.

“Right,” said Julie. “You have to use different lines if you’re using Seven-Up, and then there’s another set that works best with Mello Yello. Sprite’s best, but the store back home in Dickson used to run out of stuff. So we did a lot of experimenting to get the best flavor with each brand. God help us if the cup manufacturer ever changes their molds.”

Hannah took an experimental sip of the mixture, then a longer one. “That does go down pretty good.”

“Trust us; we’re the experts,” said Mallory with a grin. She took the cup that Cindy was holding out to her and took a long swallow.

“What I want to know is where you got hold of a steady supply of vodka at that age,” said Nettie, taking a sip of her own Sprite and vodka mixture. “When I was a teenager here in Bronning, the best we could do was usually cheap beer.”

“There was this old lady named Elaine who lived right above the liquor store in Dickson,” said Cindy. “She was like ninety years old, had five kids who wouldn’t talk to her, a bunch of grandkids she’d never met…”

“God, what did she do?” said Hannah.

“We never found out,” said Julie. “I got curious once and tried to do a little snooping, but never learned anything. She had one mission in life, and that was to stay drunk on cheap-ass blackberry brandy. But she was living on Social Security, so she couldn’t even afford that half the time. If you gave her enough extra to buy a bottle of her favorite tipple, she’d pick up anything you wanted. And I guarantee, old Reggie Moen knew she was doing it, too.”

Nettie’s head jerked up. “Reggie Moen,” she said, looking towards Cindy. “I think I met him a few times. Wasn’t he…”

“My great-uncle, yeah,” said Cindy with a smirk. “He eventually got shut down for selling weed and shrooms in the back room. Died a couple of years ago.” She raised her cup. “To Uncle Reggie, the crooked old coot. And Elaine, the facilitator of many pleasant evenings at the lake. May they both rest well in whatever fucked-up afterlife they’ve found themselves.”

“Hear, hear,” said Julie, as they all raised cups. Hannah laid her head on Nettie’s shoulder.

***

“Oh, fuck me,” muttered Halee, frowning at her laptop screen.

“Trouble?” Terry inquired, looking up from his magazine. “Serious enough trouble to assault your father’s ears with such ghastly language?”

“Sorry, Dad—slip of the tongue.”

“I daresay. What seems to be the problem?”

“I just borked my display server.”

Terry furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure which term I’d like you to define first: ‘borked’ or ‘display server’.”

Halee sighed, fingers pounding her keyboard in furious rhythm. “Borked is just computer-talk for ‘messed up’. A display server is the software that allows your computer to display graphical windows.”

“And why would you be fooling around with your display server? I’ve been using computers since long before you were a twinkle in my eye, and have never even heard of such a thing.”

“It’s Linux, Dad. I was trying to get it to run multiple—oh, never mind. I was trying to trick it out to do something it wasn’t designed for, and I messed it all up.”

“That’ll teach you.”

Halee chuckled. “Probably not. I break something by messing with the source code at least once a week. It’s only a problem right now because I’m supposed to cyb—I mean, video chat with Bethany in a couple of hours. I guess I can use my phone if I have to. The big screen is better, though.”

Terry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, but he let it pass. “I was unaware that you harbored this interest. How long have you been doing this whole Linux-y source code computer thing?”

Halee shrugged. “A couple of months. I was going to talk to you about this anyway—there’s an online Summer of Code course I want to sign up for, and I need to do it by next week. I’ll learn to program in Python, but it’ll cost four hundred. Can I do it?”

“Have I ever denied you the opportunity to expand your horizons? Once you’ve solved your borking problem, or whatever it is you called it, email me the link. I’ll get you signed up.”

Halee hit the enter key and sat back, letting out a sigh of relief as her graphical display reappeared on the screen. “Aannndddd… we’re back.”

She turned to her father with a smile. “Thanks, Dad. It won’t go to waste.”

***

Under the blanket they shared, Hannah was drawing lazy circles on the inside of Nettie’s jeans-clad thigh with her fingers. Nettie slapped lightly at her wrist. Giving her an insolent smile, Hannah moved her fingers further up the thigh. Nettie shuddered, inhaling sharply through her teeth. It did not go unnoticed.

“Whoa,” said Julie, eyeing them speculatively. “There wouldn’t happen to be some fooling around going on under that there blankie—would there?”

Hannah’s grin broadened. “Mayyyybe.”

Nettie tried for a severe expression, without much success. “She’s a bad person. It’s not my fault.”

“We like bad,” Cindy assured her. “Bad is good.”

“Says the official custodian of law and order,” said Mallory with a tipsy giggle.

“If it makes you feel any better, the Piano Princess here just unbuttoned my pants under our blanket,” Julie announced.

Mallory slapped her partner’s shoulder with the hand that wasn’t sliding beneath the loosened waistband. “Don’t tell them that,” she protested. “Cindy might have to arrest me.” She giggled again, and it was infectious—the entire circle of women erupted in a fit of laughter.

“God, get a tent,” said Cindy, eliciting another round of giggles.

“Us or them?” said Julie through her laughter. “There’s only one tent!”

Hannah looked toward the three women across the dying fire, then thoughtfully studied the tent. Finally she said the very thing they were all thinking. “It’s a big tent,” she ventured. “Plenty of room for lots of people to get up to all kinds of things.”

Cindy was the first one out of her chair. “Race you!”

***

“Honestly, Halee—you can make the X11 display server walk and talk, but it’s never gonna get up and do dance steps,” said the voice from her computer speaker.

“So what I’m trying to do is impossible? What if I tried Wayland?”

“Girl, if you can make any PC display server anywhere in the world do everything you’re trying to make it do at once, you just landed a job at Google or Microsoft. Probably as a project lead. Look: what you want has already been done, just not at the display server level. You’re runnin’ a tiler, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah, Qtile. But—”

“So you can get what you want inside your window manager, without ever diddle-fucking around with X. And you’d know that, baby doll, if you’d read the docs. You need to get some background under you, hon. You’re trying to fly when you haven’t really learned to tie your shoes yet.”

“Hey, fuck you—”

“I’m just sayin’. Being able to write Bash or Lua scripts doesn’t mean you’re ready to hack on complicated projects written in low-level languages. You have to learn the fundamentals first, you feel me?”

Halee let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I feel you. Thanks, Toya. I’ll keep you posted on how the course is going.”

“All right, kid. I gotta bounce, you good?”

“Yeah, I have something I have to get to anyway.”

“Righty then, over and out.”

Halee killed the connection with a smile. She was annoyed over her amateurish coding error, but the call she’d just left had been a good test—she had solid broadband speed in her room now. She adjusted the zoom on her cam, placing the laptop on the bed beside her. Wearing nothing but a sheer pair of black panties Nettie had picked up for her, she settled in to wait for Bethany’s call.

***

The shed door slams, a padlock clicks into place from outside. Gina is shuddering uncontrollably, hands clasped over the crisscross of light scratches on her belly. None deep enough to draw blood, let alone leave a scar, but a terrifying promise of things to come. Sniffling, Heather draws the blanket tightly over them both.

Soon to come: Chapter Five!

The story thus far: Seeking a missing Texas Ranger, our old acquaintance The Tequila Kid comes across a poor family named Miller. Like many others in the area, this widow Sarah and her two little girls, Amy and Cindy, have been brutalized by a wealthy scoundrel named McCuller, who intends to drive away all the owners of small farms and ranches in the area and take their land. Later, drying off from heavy rain at the local stable, Sheriff Lucas Clay comes in search of The Kid, demanding she surrender her guns. Knowing Clay to be corrupt (and in league with McCuller), The Kid asks to speak with him in private. Moments later at the jail, he threatens her, and she deals him a beat-down, then informs him that she means to arrest McCuller and Tyson Avidite (a banker who is part of the conspiracy) before she leaves.

From the sheriff’s office, she goes to the Silver Slipper, the town’s saloon, gambling house and brothel. There, she encounters a young man named Jud Nelson, who she’d seen Sheriff Clay harass earlier. Recognizing him as a decent sort, she hires him to watch the jail to see if Clay leaves. Then she meets a twelve-year-old girl named Dixie, who does menial work at the Silver Slipper and is bullied by Toots, the brutish bartender. The Kid asks Dixie which girl is the most popular of the whores. Star, the girl replies, and The Kid gives Dixie the money to pay for Star’s services that evening.

Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, The Kid enjoys an intense hour of sex with Star. Afterwards, she asks the prostitute a few questions about the town and its doings. She learns that Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she seeks, disappeared around the same time as Dixie’s older sister Dallas, who was one of the whores at the Silver Slipper. The Kid asks about Ben McCuller, but Star refuses to answer, claiming “it’s too dangerous.” When The Kid goes back downstairs, Jud returns to let her know that Sheriff Clay just left town, riding hard in the direction of McCuller’s place.

Figuring she’s done as much as she can for one night, The Kid decides to join an ongoing card game, where she ends up winning a decent amount of money, as well as a neglected horse, which she takes to the local stable where her own horse is being kept.

The next morning, The Kid is informed by Jud Nelson that Cy Warren, McCuller’s enforcer and dirty-jobs man, has just entered the sheriff’s office, using a key. On their way to confront him, The Kid is taken aback to recognize the horse Cy has hitched up outside as Thunder, who she knows to be the property of Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she is seeking. More determined than ever to get answers from Cy Warren, she boldly strides into the sheriff’s office, a nervous Jud close behind.

The Kid quickly catches Warren in an obvious lie about his having purchased Hansen’s horse, and arrests him on the spot, drawing her gun before he can. Once Cy is locked up, she and Jud set off for banker Tyson Avidite’s office. With the genuine ranch deeds in her possession, she and Jud quickly establish that the ones Avidite is holding for McCuller are obvious forgeries, created in an effort to steal the area’s small ranches from their rightful owners.  Confronted by the evidence, Avidite breaks down and confesses to his role in McCuller’s crooked conspiracy. 

Later that day, The Kid steals onto McCuller’s land while he is away. She encounters his vicious pair of trained dogs, and deploys Indian methods she learned as a young girl to make friends with them. That accomplished, she carefully breaks into his study, where she fiddles with a certain something in the man’s desk drawer before making her escape.

The Kid has one more task to accomplish before turning in. She drops by the Silver Slipper to liberate the young girl Dixie from her menial position. The vicious bartender Toots is intent on stopping The Kid, but she takes him down with a couple of well-placed punches, then helps herself to a large wad of cash from the man’s pocket for Dixie’s back wages. The Kid and the girl then depart, leaving an enraged Toots behind.

The Kid takes Dixie out for a decent meal, buys her a new set of clothes, then gets them a room at a local boarding house. After a bath, The Kid plans to turn in for the night… but Dixie has other ideas, insisting on making love to her benefactor as a way of saying thanks. The Kid finds the sweet young thing impossible to resist. 

The next morning, on her way to the sheriff’s office, The Kid happens upon two men loading a large wagon with food and supplies, and quickly realizes they work for McCuller. When they beat a man for begging for a little flour, she arrests them both, putting them in jail along with Cy Warren. Once they’re locked up, she asks Jud Nelson to return the deeds McCuller stole to the families he took them from — along with a thousand dollars for each family, taken from McCuller’s bank account, and the contents of take the wagon of supplies.

By that time, The Kid is obliged to cut Warren loose, but she refuses to give him back his horse (who belonged to the missing Ranger Hansen), forcing him to walk back to McCuller’s ranch. Needless to say, Cy Warren is quite displeased.

The Kid takes Dixie to the Miller home, asking Sarah if she can take the girl in. Sarah immediately consents. Her daughters Cindy and Amy quickly take a liking to Dixie (whose real name, we learn, is Clara), and agree with their mother. 

That night, The Kid beds down in the Millers’ barn, keeping a lookout. Before turning in, Sarah gives her daughters a bath, along with Clara/Dixie. Later, Sarah pays The Kid a late-night visit, and ends up slipping into The Kid’s bedroll to keep warm. There, she mentions having bathed the girls. The Kid wonders out loud why Sarah’s daughters don’t wash themselves, then gets the young mother to admit that she very much enjoys seeing the girls nude. By then, Sarah is so aroused that The Kid easily seduces her, and they begin to make love.

Meanwhile, Clara is in bed with her new sisters, teaching them some very intimate games. Cindy and Amy have already explored kissing with one another, but Clara gets them to go much further. They all have a lovely time.

Sarah, on the other hand, is so troubled by illicit thoughts of her daughters that she pulls away from The Kid, apologizes and leaves. Returning to the house, she is surprised to find Clara waiting in her bed. Sarah resists, but Clara’s seductive skills are so well-honed that she ends up giving in, allowing the girl to make love to her. One at a time, Any and Cindy are awakened by the sounds of passion, wander to their mother’s room to investigate, and end up joining in the sexual abandon. Sarah gives into her newly discovered desire and makes love to both her children, as well as Clara.

Meanwhile, evil rancher McCuller has assembled an army of rough men to drive the small farmers and ranchers out of the area for good, killing them if need be. He also hires notorious gunman Kid Coley (who widowed Sarah Miller a couple of months earlier when he shot down her husband) to kill the Tequila Kid. 

After releasing McCuller’s men Sam and Cookie, The Kid heads over to the Silver Slipper for a drink with Jud. When the bartender Toots sees them, he seizes a gun and tries to shoot The Kid, but Star blocks the shot and dies herself.

As McCuller’s army prepares to ride, Kid Coley, on his way to kill the Tequila Kid, pays a visit to the Miller home, intent on raping and killing Sarah Miller and her little girls, unaware that The Kid is lying in waiting for him. She challenges hum. Coley accepts, but his attempt to cheat backfires, and The Kid gets off a fatal shot. Before he dies, Coley triumphantly lets The Kid know about McCuller’s invaders and their plan to burn out the local small ranches and farms. Horrified by this revelation, she slings Coley’s corpse over his horse and sets off for McCuller’s ranch, with only enough time for a shouted farewell to Sarah and the girls. 

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the thrilling final installment. Read on…

by Purple Les

Sam and Cookie returned to the ranch with their empty wagon just as McCuller’s crew of toughs was preparing to ride. The men were armed to the teeth, and half of them carried cans of kerosene and coal oil, earmarked to burn down the sodbuster homes.

Nervously approaching McCuller, hats in their hands, the two cooks told McCuller of their ordeal – how The Tequila Kid put them under arrest, clapped them both in jail for the night, then stole the supplies in their wagon.

To their enormous relief, the boss wasn’t too bothered. Cy Warren had already filled him in on their arrest, and though McCuller hadn’t known about the stolen supplies, he brushed off the loss for the moment. “Boys, you can forget about that damned Tequila Kid. We’ve got a hole dug for her out back, and that bitch will be lying in it this time tomorrow. As for the supplies…” McCuller mulled it over.

“We can go back, boss,” said Cookie, eager for the chance to make things right. “Just need to swap out the horses–”

“Not right now,” McCuller said, shaking his head. “I need you to ride out with the boys. The raid’s about to happen, and I can’t spare a man. We have enough grub to hold us for a couple of days. For now, get a horse and saddle up.”

“Yessir, boss.” Cookie made for the stable.

Sam began to follow, but McCuller stopped him, “Not you, Sam. I need you here to get that side of beef smoked. I’ll help you hoist it up on the spit when you’ve got the fire right.”

As the men prepared to depart, McCuller moved among them with words of encouragement and slaps on the back. Soon the lot of them rode off, headed for town and the sheriff’s office.

Sam had a fire pit ready to barbecue, with a cord of fine mesquite to smoke the meat. It would take a couple of hours to get the fire to the intensity he wanted before the beef could be put on the spit. In the meantime, the sauce needed to be made – about five gallons, he figured.

He’d just come out of McCuller’s house to fetch water, lugging a large oaken bucket. Glancing off into the distance, he stopped cold on the porch at the sight of a rider and two horses. The second horse bore some kind of load, and as the rider drew nearer, Sam realized it was a body, draped over its back.

Must be Kid Coley with that dead Ranger, He thought. Good. Mr McCuller’s plans are all comin’ together..

As the rider approached the porch, Sam’s eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he whispered, setting the bucket down.

The Kid said, “Go tell your boss I got a Christmas present for him.”

Sam scurried into the house without a word. A moment later Ben McCuller stepped onto the porch, his face ashen at the sight of the body that had been cut loose from the saddle, then unceremoniously dumped on the ground. The light from the open door of the house shone on Kid Coley’s pale, dead face.

McCuller snapped his fingers twice. His dogs emerged from the open door to stand on either side of him. When he stepped down from the porch, the huge beasts followed. In the cold air of early evening, steam issued from their nostrils and mouths. In the light from the lantern they seemed more like black shadows, only with white fangs jutting behind their curled lips.

McCuller finally tilted his head to look up at the rider. His eyes smoldered with fury, but he wore a tight smile. “Well, I suppose you must be that Tequila Kid, the Texas Ranger I’ve heard tell of. And you’ve come calling with a corpse, I see. Now why don’t you step down and tell me what this is all about.”

Glancing around, The Kid rode Button back about thirty feet to a corral, leading Coley’s horse along. She dismounted, tied the horses’ reins to a rail, then began to make her way back to McCuller.

Ben McCuller’s voice was barely audible as he hissed, “Sic ‘em.”

Snarling, the huge black beasts plunged forward and raced toward The Kid, their jaws gnashing furiously.

Squatting down, The Kid rested both forearms on her knees with hands extended, the way Four Feathers had taught her years ago, then loudly intoned a few words in Mojave. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, remaining utterly motionless in the face of such savage power as it barrelled toward her.

An instant before their attack, the dogs came to an abrupt stop in front of The Kid. They sniffed her hands, then the rest of her body, finally burrowing their faces into her crotch. Satisfied, they began to lick her face. Slowly getting to her feet, The Kid scratched both dogs behind the ears.

McCuller was thunderstruck, No one, no one had ever bested his dogs. He whispered to Sam, “What the hell’s going on here? They should’ve torn her to bits by now.”

Sam had gone pale. “I’ve heard tell ‘bout that gal,” he muttered “There’s some kinda strong Injun medicine she got. They say she can command any animal, and bullets can’t hit her.”

“Bullshit,” McCuller snorted. “Go make that hole a little bigger. When you’re done with that, dig through Coley’s pockets and gear and find my money.”

“Yessir, Mister McCuller.”

The Kid watched Sam run off as she strode toward the house, a dog on either side. She came to a halt before McCuller, who could clearly see her tattooed chin and clear blue eyes in the lantern light. He noticed the bullet hole in her Stetson hat. Did Coley do that? he wondered.

McCuller gave a sharp whistle, and the dogs ambled over. He said, “Sit.” and they took up positions on either side of him. “Uh, my apologies for the dogs. Sometimes they get a bit too excited when strangers appear. Now, then, what’s this all about?” He pointed at the body. “Why did you bring this man here?”

The Kid prodded the corpse with the tip of her boot. “Well, now, ‘this man’ is what’s left of a well-known gunman known as Kid Coley. Said he worked for you, so I brung him back. I admit, he’s kinda the worse for wear.”

McCuller was already shaking his head. “No… no. I do recall encountering him a time or two. It’s hard to forget a face like that. But I have no need for the services of a gunman.”

The Kid spoke a couple of words McCuller didn’t recognize. The dogs stood and wandered over to where Coley lay. They sniffed it, then each dog raised a back leg to mark the corpse with their urine.

McCuller’s eyes widened a bit, but he held himself steady. Giving The Kid an oily smile, he said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Come on in the house, young lady. We’ll have a drink and a chat.”

Looking from one dog to the other, McCuller said, “Heel,” then mounted the porch to enter the house. The dogs followed him inside, The Kid close behind. As she closed the large oak door, McCuller addressed his dogs again. “Down. Stay.” The large black beasts settled down on either side of the fireplace, and The Kid followed McCuller through a door to his office.

McCuller gestured at a worn leather chair placed before his desk. The Kid seated herself, but without removing her coat or hat.

Bending to open the bottom left hand drawer of the desk, McCuller took out a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses. He poured two drinks, then handed one to The Kid. He leaned against the front of his desk, took a sip and said, “Well, then… what is it you want from me, miss?”

Without missing a beat, The Kid said, “It’s Ranger, not ‘miss’. And I’m here to arrest you.”

McCuller assumed a surprised expression. “Arrest me? For what, pray tell?”

“Land and bank fraud.”

“Oh? Very interesting. Anything else?”

“Probably murder. The fraud for certain, though.”

McCuller crossed his arms and laughed. “Oh, I see. This is that business about the bank and the deeds they hold for the farmers in these parts… sodbusters, I think they’re called. That other ranger talked about it. I keep my money in that bank, and it upset me something fierce to hear they might be caught up in crooked goings-on. I’ve always known Tyson Avidite and Sheriff Clay to be decent, upstanding men, so it was hard for me to believe they were in cahoots on some… some scheme to fleece honest families of their land.”

Topping up his glass, McCuller thoughtfully scratched his chin. “There was this one rumor I’d heard, and I passed it on to that Texas Ranger – Harlan, was that his name? – about some deranged farmer who stole a passel of deeds and made up that whole silly land-snatching story.”

Keeping her voice even, The Kid said, “Would that ranger’s name be Clark Hansen?”

“Yes, indeed,” McCuller smiled, “That was it. Clark Hansen. Well, young lady, he did some investigating and found that farmer’s story to be a load of hogwash. The three of us – Avidite, Clay and me – were innocent of any wrongdoing whatsoever. Ranger Hansen wrote out an affidavit to that effect and gave us each a copy. Mine is right here in this drawer.”

“Where’d he go after givin’ you them reports?”

McCuller shrugged. “Heard he ran off with a saloon girl.”

The Kid said, “All right, then. Why don’t you show me that paper Hansen wrote. I’d like to get this matter cleared up.”

“Of course,” McCuller said. “I have it right here.” Moving behind his desk, he opened the top right drawer and reached inside.

The Kid did her best to look surprised when McCuller took out a pistol, aiming it at her. “I’m afraid you won’t be arresting me today,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe they’d send another dull-witted Texas Ranger out to arrest me.”

“I’d advise you not to pull that trigger.” The Kid said.

McCuller chuckled. “Why on earth not?”

“There’s already one Ranger gone missin’. If I don’t send a telegram by Christmas Day, there’ll be a half dozen more Rangers here the day after. You can’t kill ’em all.”

“The telegraph’s over in the next town. And I can kill them all. Me and my men.”

“So you killed Ranger Clark Hansen, did you?”

Perched on the corner of his desk, McCuller nodded. “Yes, I did. Shot him right next to where you’re sitting.”

The Kid swallowed hard, her jaw clenched as she said, “How’d you get the drop on him?”

“He told me he’d be back to arrest me after he stopped at the bank. He thought enough of me as a man to turn his back on his way out. I put a bullet in it.”

The Kid sat still as a statue as McCuller dipped back into the drawer. Taking something out, he tossed it in her lap. It was a Texas Ranger badge with a little nick on the left side. Hansen’s badge.

“What happened to that crook, Sheriff Clay?” The Kid asked, running her thumb over the badge.

“I had to dispose of him. He came here scared of you, no idea what to do about it. I knew right then that he was no longer of use to me. I told him he could hole up here in the bunkhouse for a few days… and the moment he stepped off the porch, I let the dogs take him down. When I called them off, he begged me to kill him. I had my men plant his body alongside Hansen’s, out by the chicken coop. You’ll soon be out there yourself, along with Coley. Hope you don’t mind sharing the same hole.”

“What about that Dallas gal?” The Kid asked, still not looking up.

“Oh, her. She came up here a few hours after Hansen, begging me not to marry her sister. She grew very tiresome to me after a few minutes. Finally, I told her I’d reconsider if she sucked my cock. She wasn’t very good at it, but got the job done. I told her I’d forget her sister and marry her instead. She was happy when she left… well, almost left. I set the dogs on her, too; let them rip her apart. I wouldn’t shoot a woman.” Drawing the hammer of his pistol back, he continued. “I don’t consider you a woman, just another goddamn lawman… and to be honest, I’m bored with you. Stand up, now. I don’t want blood on that chair. It belonged to my father.”

Instead of getting to her feet, The Kid wondered aloud, “Why is it you want to marry Dixie, anyhow?”

McCuller chuckled. “Know what? I don’t mind saying it aloud to someone this once. You’ll be dead in a couple of minutes anyway.” He paused to pour more whiskey into his glass. “I had to start running my father’s ranch when the old man passed away. I was just twelve, but the men respected me; lent a hand when I needed it. At fourteen, I’d expanded the ranch and was making good money, the new man of the house.

“I was in love with my sister Betsy. We’d always been close, and she loved me too. When I was sixteen, we decided to marry. She was twelve then. Our plan was to tie the knot when she turned thirteen.

“We told our mother, and she pitched a righteous fit. She called it incest; said it was a mortal sin. After she ranted and raved at us, we told her nothing would change our minds. Come what may, we intended to marry.

“Mother went into her bedroom and came out with my father’s gun in one hand, her Bible in the other. She shot her. She shot Betsy. And as my sister lay dying, Mother dropped the gun, knelt by her and said, ‘There, my child. I saved you from the torments of hell.’ And then my sweet Betsy died.”

Pausing to sip from his glass, McCuller said, “I killed my mother. Picked up Father’s gun and beat her to death with it, right next to where Betsy lay. I gave the law a cock and bull tale about a burglar breaking in while I was making the rounds, but I knew that story wouldn’t hold up for long, so I cut my losses and moved on.

“I started over here and was doing just fine – that is, until the foreign scum and white trash started moving in, taking land that was meant for me… but you wanted to know about Dixie, didn’t you?

“I first saw her in the bar, wiping down a table. I was… thunderstruck. She’s the very image of my little sister. My mother was wrong about us, you know. That’s why I had to take her life. The Almighty knew the love I shared with my sister was right and good… so he returned Betsy to me, even if she doesn’t understand it herself just yet. But she will, she will. I bought her from Toots and asked him to make her work hard, so hard that she’ll be happy when I come to take her away and make her my bride.”

Still aiming his gun at The Kid, he took out a silver pocket watch; flicked it open. “In a couple of hours, my men will dispose of that boy Jud… this ranch hand who thinks he can wear a sheriff’s badge. Then they’ll drive those sodbusters off my land.”

“It ain’t your land,” said The Kid. “That’s the law, McCuller. It’s why I’m here to arrest you.”

“To hell with the law!” McCuller thundered. “I can take that land, and I can hold it. That makes it mine.” He gave a derisive snort. “Know what the problem with you Rangers is? You put your trust in man’s law. Words on paper! My law is that of the wild. A wolf needs no lawyer, no writs. He takes what he wants; makes it his.”

McCuller picked up his glass; took a swallow. “Once those dirt-scratchers are gone, this ranch will be my kingdom. Betsy will turn thirteen soon, and I’ll marry her. She’ll bear children for me, and I’ll rule this land.” He snickered. “That’s right, I’m a king. You should address me as Your Highness or Your Majesty.” McCuller aimed his pistol at The Kid. “Tell you what. If you call me, ‘Your Majesty, King McCuller,’ I just might let you go.”

Try as she might, The Kid couldn’t conceal the loathing she felt. “Know what? I’d rather you shot me, Your Assholyness. And by the way, I still mean to arrest you.”

McCuller went from amused to enraged in an instant. “Bitch!” he snapped. “My God, I’m sick to death of you. Get up and die now.”

The Kid slowly rose, still holding Hansen’s badge in her left hand, the whiskey glass in the other. Finally meeting McCuller’s gaze, she said, “Ruth and Clara.”

“What? Who?” McCuller growled.

“That girl you killed, her name was really Ruth,” The Kid said softly. “The girl you bought is named Clara. They were sisters. Someone’s daughters. Ruth and Clara Lamb. Just thought you might want to know.”

“Nothing you say interests me.” McCuller took aim. “I’ll still let you have your last words, though.”

The Kid’s cool blue eyes peered into his. “It’d be best for everyone if you didn’t pull that trigger.”

McCuller gave a derisive laugh, then fired. A loud explosion went off in his hand, and he fell to the floor, howling in agony.

The Kid watched him for a moment, then drank down her tot of whiskey. The detonation of the gun had filled the room with rancid smoke, so she let her empty glass drop to the floor, then opened the office door. Perhaps drawn by their master’s cries, McCuller’s two dogs came in, positioning themselves on either side of The Kid. Slipping Hansen’s badge into her pocket, she petted them both.

The Kid squatted down next to McCuller, who was writhing where he lay, his face a mask of pain. “Told you not to shoot, didn’t I? Y’see, I was in here the other day, makin’ friends with your dogs and diggin’ through your desk drawers. I blocked up the barrel of your pistol. Yep, you sure ought to have listened to me.”

The Kid stood, folded her arms. “Y’know, Clark Hansen wasn’t just another Ranger. He was a good man. A true friend. I’d never have got to be a Texas Ranger but for him vouchin’ for me. And you shot him in the back, you…” She shook her head in disgust. “Well, you won’t be shootin’ anyone with that hand now, you piece of cow shit.”

McCuller groaned. The thumb of his right hand was hanging loosely, almost detached. Through bloody lips he managed to speak. “God damn you… You cunt. I’ll d-destroy you.” Twisting his body to the left, he gazed at his dogs and stammered, “Si – sic…”

The Kid smiled. “Oh, are you tryin’ to talk to your dogs? What’s that word you want to say? Let me see now… sarsaparilla? No that weren’t it. Hmm… succotash? Sesame?”

Suddenly the rage and pain in McCuller’s eyes was colored by fear as The Kid nearly voiced his own attack command. Damn her! he thought. Can she control my dogs?

“How ‘bout I do somethin’ to stop that blood?” Tequila asked. By then, the sleeve of McCuller’s white shirt was drenched in crimson.”Then I’ll take you to town to heal up until you’re able to stand trial.”

McCuller rasped, “Go to hell, bitch.”

The Kid didn’t reply, just moved behind McCuller’s desk. Returning to that top drawer, she found a locket with a picture of Ruth and Clara inside, and put it in her vest. Making her way toward the door, she glanced at the dogs, then McCuller. Suddenly she snapped her fingers, muttering, “That’s it.” She bent to pet the dogs one last time. Then, pointing at McCuller, she quietly said, “Sic ‘em.”

The Kid abruptly turned and walked out, shutting the door behind. She heard the dogs thunder across the floor – then Ben McCuller’s scream.

Drawn by the noise, Sam was hastening into the house as The Kid approached the front door. She said, “Reckon your boss wants you, Sam,” but the man was already stomping down the hallway to McCuller’s office.

Outside, The Kid unhitched Button, rode her close to the house, then waited, listening closely. Soon the sound of two shots came from inside. That’ll be Sam killin’ the dogs. Now there should be one more shot. If McCuller’s the man I think he is, he’ll be beggin’ Sam to kill him… and Sam’s the kind of man who’ll do what he’s told.

She waited. A moment later, another shot. Within seconds, Sam staggered out of the house, a pistol in his grip. He screamed, “You cunt scum bitch! Them dogs tore Mister McCuller almost to death. I had to kill him, God damn it! You ruined everything, you fuckin’ whore!” He raised the gun.

Instantly drawing her Colt peacemaker, The Kid shot the pistol out of the man’s hand. Sam howled, clutching his wounded fingers.

“Way I see it, your boss got what he deserved,” she said. “Was I you, I’d high-tail it out of these parts afore you get what you deserve… and that’s somethin’ a lot worse than a hurt hand.”

With that, she tugged the reins, turning Button away from the white-faced man and into the night. Nudging her mare into a gallop, she prayed to whatever gods there were that she could reach Jud before McCuller’s hired thugs did.

***

Jud Nelson was getting a taste of being sheriff. First, he’d had the town undertaker remove the bodies of Star and Toots from the Silver Slipper. Going through the desk, he managed to locate the paperwork that needed to be done after. It didn’t look too difficult. Now he sat at the desk in the sheriff’s office filling out forms, making a report. I’ll check it all out with the circuit judge when he gets here next week, make sure I did it right. Jud had just signed the report when he heard horses come riding in – at least half a dozen, from the sound of it.

Peering out the window, he saw McCuller’s men dismount, led by Cy Warren. Jud drew a deep breath to brace himself, knowing he could well be dead before the next hour chimed.

Time to see what you’re made of, boyo, he told himself. He checked his pistol, put on his coat and hat and walked out the door.

“Howdy, fellas,” Jud said. No one replied; they just looked at him.

About thirty feet down the street, Cy Warren folded his arms. “I’ll be takin’ over as sheriff, Nelson. Just hand over your badge and gun there and I’ll let you be.”

Jud knew Cy was lying; even that far away, he could read it in the man’s eyes. The Kid made him look a fool, and I was there to see it. Ain’t no way he’d let me live after that.

He answered, “I guess you’ll have to take it off me, Cy. If you’re man enough.”

Warren’s face darkened in anger, more so when a few of the men chuckled. He took a step forward.

Jud pushed the right side of his coat back to reveal his gun. “Don’t come no closer, or I’ll have to draw on you.”

Cy snorted in disdain. “Reckon I’ll have to kill you then,” he said, pushing back his own coat.

Cookie spoke up. “Listen to me, Jud. No one’s got nothin’ against you. Do like Cy says. We’re gonna drive out the ranchers and sodbusters, and there ain’t a thing you can do to stop it.”

“He’s right,” Cy said. “Drop your gun and badge and ride out. That Tequila Kid is dead; she got shot down by Kid Coley. You’re alone now, Best give it up.” Coley must of taken care of her by now, he decided.

Jud felt his stomach tighten. Never been much at pullin’ off a bluff at the poker table… but now I got to come up with the best bullshit I ever told.

“Listen to me now, boys,” Jud said, glancing around at the various men. “You got it all backwards. Earlier today the Tequila Kid sent a telegram from the next town, lettin’ the Texas Rangers know what’s goin’ on. Hell, she was here not half an hour ago. She killed Coley; now she’s headed out to McCullers’ to collar him.”

The men all seemed to be paying close attention. Okay, Jud told himself, they seem to be buyin’ what I’m sellin’. Just gotta keep ‘em with me.

“If you split up and head out to the ranches, you’ll be dead men for certain,” Jud continued.

Cookie frowned. “What’s that mean?”

“The Tequila Kid didn’t come back alone,” Jud said. “She brung a posse. There’s a couple of Texas Rangers at each ranch and farm, and they’re just waitin’ for you men to show up. I’m tellin’ you this because I ain’t got hard feelings against you.”

The men began to talk to each other. Shit, I best take him out now, Cy told himself. He’s tryin’ to buffalo them into backin’ out on me and McCuller. He took a step forward.

Jud said loudly, “Stop right there, Cy… or by God, I’ll draw.”

Cy took another step, and Jud pulled his gun. He hadn’t cleared the holster when Cy fired, but the shot went wide. Just like I remember him, Jud thought. A fast draw, but his aim’s shaky from a distance. Stay calm, get off one good shot.

He was taking aim as Cy fired again. This bullet tore the sleeve of Jud’s thick coat, but didn’t touch his arm.

Cy was about to take a third shot when Jud fired. Cy’s right arm flew out to his side, sending his gun sailing into the street, and his left hand went to his ruined chest. He stood still for a moment, then dropped to his knees. Looking up at Jud, he whispered, “You killed me,” then fell forward onto his face.

Quickly approaching, Jud bent to feel Cy’s neck for a pulse. Nothing. Turning to the men watching, he shook his head. None of them drew their own guns, so Jud said, “You want to take him with you? Or should I make the arrangements?”

Jud watched carefully as the men grouped together. A few of them spoke, the others listened closely. Eventually, they grew silent, and a couple of them nodded.

Cookie approached Jud. “We’re movin’ on. You take care of Cy. This whole thing’s got too messy for us. We ain’t gonna get ourselves kilt doin’ McCuller’s dirty work… and if we go back to him without the job done, we’re dead.” He shook his head. “Truth be told, I’m startin’ to think our boss is a few bricks shy of a load.” He shrugged. “So long, Jud. Reckon you done earned that badge.” With a brief nod, he trudged back to his horse.

The men mounted up and drifted off into the night. Jud stood there, his heartbeat gradually returning to normal as he watched them go. After a couple of minutes, he paid another visit to the undertaker.

***

“I never killed a man before.”

The Kid had told Jud what she’d done, then she listened in silence while Jud filled her in on what had happened in town. When he’d spoken those last words, she stood and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know it will haunt you for a spell, Jud. All I can say is I recall the first man I killed. I didn’t like doing it either. If it helps ease your mind any, Cy Warren was for sure a killer of innocents, and you done the world a favor killing him. ”

“It’s not much comfort,” Jud said, “If it makes you feel any better, Kid, the Doc told me he’d been giving Star laudanum for a cancer she was sick with. He said it was almost a blessing for her to go quick like she did.”

Jud watched a tear roll down The Kid’s cheek as she shook her head sadly, saying, “It ain’t no comfort to me, either.”

Jud sat in silence for a minute before saying, “That sure was good work you did.”

Kid shook her head, “I was sloppy all the way, Jud. Took too many gambles, and I’m damn lucky it come out okay in the end. Kid Coley almost shot me dead. Them dogs of McCuller’s might just as easily forgot who I was and ripped me to shreds. And what if McCuller had checked his gun after I’d messed with it? Worst of all was, I didn’t watch out for Toots when I should of. Star died ‘cause of that.

“McCuller would have had the last laugh, ‘cept for you, Jud. You took care of Cy Warren and got them men to leave without doing what they was supposed to do. You saved the farmers, and this town.”

“Shucks,” Jud replied, his cheeks slightly flushed, “Can’t say I put much thought into it. I just went with my gut.” He paused, then added, “Sure is funny that McCuller sent a man to kill the girl he wanted to marry without even knowin’ it.”

“That’s what happens to men who spend their lives makin’ other folks suffer. Sooner or later, they end up hurtin’ someone they don’t mean to hurt.” The Kid patted Jud’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to take a life, but you saved a lot more. If you want to take the badge off now, you got the right to. You come through for me and the town both. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’ll keep on being sheriff for a while, I guess. I liked the way the sodbusters treated me when I gave ‘em their mortgages and money. I’m glad I got to help the town, too.”

“Then wear this badge instead.” The Kid said as she tossed the real sheriff’s badge on to the desk. Jud picked it up as she added, “McCuller kept a little collection of badges and whatnot from everyone he killed.”

“I’ll be damned,” Jud said. “Guess that makes it official.”

“Reckon so,” The Kid said. “I also think Clark Hanson would of liked you to keep Thunder. You and that stallion are a good match.”

She watched Jud pin the badge on then said, “I got to get over to the next town to send a wire.” Quickly bending down, she kissed his cheek. Jud felt his face grow hot and his heart fluttered for a moment as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

The Kid put her hat on, made her way to the door and opened it. Just before leaving, she glanced over her shoulder. “Adios, Jud.”

Jud said, “Merry Christmas, Kid,” to the closing door. He looked up at the clock. Just after midnight. Opening the lower drawer of the desk, he took out a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a drink.

***

 The town was silent and dark as The Kid approached the front door of the general store. Using a set of picks she’d filched from a burglar years ago, she quickly jimmied the lock. She took a few things, then placed the last of her poker winnings on the counter for payment.

Leading Button to the stable, she found Abner studying a half-played checker game, taking an occasional nip from his jug of applejack.

He looked up. “Hiya, Kid! Come for a rematch?”

“Sorry, Ab, not tonight,” she said. “I got important business to see to. Listen – you know how to write?”

“I can read and write some, if I need to. What for?”

She placed some brown paper, a small can of red paint and a brush before Abner, then let him know what she wanted. When he was finished, she nodded her approval. “That looks real good. One more thing – you got a saddle to fit a child? I’ll need the bridle, too.”

While Abner looked over his gear, The Kid visited Thunder in his stall, petting the stallion, as she gently spoke. “Well, from here on, you’ll have Jud looking after you.” The horse nickered softly. “I know, big boy, I know. I miss Clark awful bad too, but you’ll be happy with Jud. Why I reckon he’ll fuss over you just like Clark did.”

“Hey, Kid! Got that saddle for ya!” she heard Abner call. Patting the horse’s nose one last time, she made her way to the front of the livery.

The saddle was exactly what she wanted. Giving the grizzled old man what money she had left, The Kid shook his hand. He opened the stable door for her, and as she led Button out, along with the palomino she’d won from Final Preston, The Kid said, “Much obliged, Abner.”

“So long, Kid,” Abner replied. “Be sure to stop by next time you’re in these parts.”

“That I will. Adios, Abner,” she said with a tip of her hat. Mounting Button, she rode off, the wind blowing and snow beginning to whip around her as she disappeared into the distance. Abner watched until she was gone from sight then, with a sigh, returned to his checkerboard.

***

From up on the ridge trail, The Tequila Kid could see Sarah’s home. The snow had stopped and the sun was rising on a cloudless sky. She could see a light come on through a window, then smoke began to emerge from the chimney.

The Kid put her battered telescope back in the saddle bag. I wonder what little Arabella’s doin’ right now. Havin’ a nice Christmas morning with her family, most likely. I figure she’s sure to have forgot me. Don’t reckon I’ll ever forget her myself. The Kid shook her head sadly as she pictured Arabella, touching the gold ring on its chain under her shirt.

“Well, they’re up now,” the Tequila Kid told Button, stroking the horse’s mane. “Soon enough someone will be headin’ out to the barn.” With an impatient snort, Button beat a front hoof into the snow. “I know, girl. We could of made it to the next town by now if we hadn’t come to the Miller place first.” Button’s response was a shiver and a toss of the head. “It was somethin’ I had to take care of, girl. Don’t fret, now… you’ll warm up, soon’s we start movin’ again. Here – this is for you,” she added, pulling the apple out of her coat pocket.

Button shook her head up and down excitedly as The Kid removed the yellow ribbon tied around it. “It’s from that little Amy girl. She wanted you to have a Christmas present, too.”

The Kid took a small bite from the apple, smiling as its sweet juice ran down her chin. Then she offered it up on the palm of her hand, and Button devoured it in a few gulps.

Wiping her hand on her jeans, The Kid reached into another pocket, feeling for the hard-boiled egg Amy had given her. Carefully cracking the shell on her saddle horn, she peeled and ate it.

Finally, The Kid took out the child’s last gift, the pine cone Amy had decorated for her. Admiring it, she said, “Look, Button… this here is what they call a Christmas decoration. Ain’t it pretty?”

Button sniffed it. Deciding it wasn’t food, she snorted and shook her head, jingling the bridle. The Kid returned the cone to her pocket. Taking up the yellow ribbon, she tied it in a bow on the black forelock of Button’s mane.

“Don’t you look nice, girl. Now let’s get to the next town.” Mounting up, she continued to talk to her horse, as she often did when riding on her own. “I got to wire Captain Richards, let him know about all them dead bodies on McCuller’s land. Reckon he’ll want to come deal with this mess himself.”

Tugging the reins, she guided Button onto the trail. “I better wire Andromeda, too, let her know I won’t see her for a spell yet. She won’t be happy with me missin’ Christmas again… and I can just see her rollin’ her eyes when she gets that telegram collect. Know what she told me last time I saw her? She said, ‘Kid, I love you to bits, but you treat money as if every pair of britches you own has holes in all the pockets’.” She laughed, then fell silent.

Her thoughts strayed to Dixie. It’s Clara now, she reminded herself. I reckon Captain Richards will be the one to let her know what happened to her big sister. I imagine Sarah will have poor Ruth buried at the ranch. Hope she does, anyhow.  She’ll rest easier there.

Got to make sure I give Richards that locket for evidence, and tell him to pass it along to Clara when the case gets closed.

Taking one last glance down at the Miller home, she rode on.

***

I don’t know when I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was laying my head in Ma’s lap, but I was curled up in the big chair wrapped in a blanket when Amy woke us all up yelling, ‘It’s Christmas!’ We all slept in our clothes not knowing if Ma would be having a shoot out with McCuller’s men. But no night riders ever did come by.

We were mighty glad to still be alive and safe. Ma figured either the snowstorm or the Tequila Kid kept us from being attacked, and she said we should thank God for sparing us the next time we said our prayers.

Amy wanted to go see what Santa Claus brought us right away, but Ma gathered us around her first. She said ‘Girls, I don’t know what gifts the day will bring, but I promise you this. We will have the gift of each other’s love tonight.’ 

Then Ma gave each of us a kiss. It was the special kind, where she put her tongue into our mouths. I was first, and when she kissed me, I felt her hands move down my back till she was touching my bottom. Then she did the same for Amy and Clara. I saw Clara reach up to touch Ma’s titties when they kissed. I wished I thought of doing that! But I figured that night there would be plenty of chances to touch my mother anywhere I liked. 

When we were all done kissing, Clara said something specially nice. She gave all of us big smiles and said ‘Ma, Cindy, Amy, you are the best Christmas presents in the whole world, and I can’t wait to unwrap you later tonight.’ 

The way we were looking at each other right then made me think we were about to get started early on the loving part. But Ma just patted Clara’s bottom and told us to go see what Santa brought, then we needed to get breakfast started. 

When me, Clara and Amy went into the parlor we saw stockings hung on the mantle, three of them. Each had an orange and a hand full of walnuts in it. I like busting open the walnut shells with our nut cracker. I decided to save them for later but dug right into my orange. Amy said she’d eat her orange later. Clara wanted to wait and enjoy hers another time.

Amy was happy with her stocking, but she was wondering what else Santa Claus left for us. Just for a moment, I thought cause of the stockings that maybe Santa did come after all. But when I heard Clara  saying thank you to Ma in the kitchen, I knew that was who had got us the oranges and nuts. But I didn’t say nothing. I just hoped Amy wouldn’t be too sad when that was all there was that we got. Me, I didn’t mind so much about there not being a Santa Claus to leave us presents. Long as we had love for one another, it would be a good Christmas.

Ma said while she and Clara got breakfast started, me and Amy should go out to the barn to look for eggs, so we put our coats on and went out into the cold. The snow looked so beautiful in the sun light. I remember thinking it was a gift from God to us for Christmas. I hated for us to spoil it by leaving tracks, but we had to get those eggs. I seen snow a couple times before, but not so deep as this. Amy had a huge smile on her face, cause she’s not seen snow since she was a baby. It did my heart good to see her so happy.

Amy ran ahead of me and opened up the barn door, then she stood stock still, staring at something. All of a sudden she yelled, ‘Cindy, Cindy, come and see!’ I was scared a fox had got at the chickens so I hurried over. 

I looked inside and there was the most beautiful horse in the whole world, standing there with the sun light hitting her. She was a palomino, golden with a white tail and mane. Pinned on her saddle was a big piece of brown paper with red paint on it that said:

MARY X MAS 4 SINDY FROM SANTA KLAWS

It was like something out of a dream. I walked up slowly to the horse to pet her, and she seemed to like me right off. I was so excited! I moved her over near a stall wall and climbed up on her and had Amy get on behind me. I rode her out of the barn and to the house yelling for Ma and Clara to come see. They both rushed out of the house with their mouths hanging open.

Now I saw there were packages hanging off the saddle horn. One was a big envelope saying, 2 SARA, a small box said, 2 AIME, and a brown paper bundle, 4 KLARA.

Clara ripped hers open. It was a pretty store bought dress. She held it up and then ran inside to try it on. Amy opened hers and it was a brand new harmonica, nicer than the one that got shot.

Clara came back out and she sure did look pretty in her new dress. Ma told her she would sure look fine in it when we went to the Vales for the Christmas party. I don’t think she was wearing anything under it, and thinking about that made me warm and trembly inside. She said she would go make the biscuits, and Ma told her to hang the dress up first. 

I was so glad I never said nothing to Amy about there being no Santa Claus, because I figured now there had to be. No one else could of done all that. If it had been a person there would of been footprints all over around the barn. Besides, nobody could have ever known I wanted a horse except for Santa. I guess he can’t spell very good though. 

***

Sarah stood on the porch, listening to Clara whistling and humming in the kitchen as she made the biscuits. She looked at her oldest daughter beaming as she rode the golden palomino around the yard. Behind Cindy sat Sarah’s baby girl Amy playing “Joy To The World,” the sun glinting off the shiny new harmonica.

Noticing the envelope in her hand, Sarah opened it and peered inside. Her eyes widened, and she pulled out a bundle of cash. Quickly counting it, she whispered, “Eleven hundred dollars?”

Also tucked into the envelope was a bill of sale for the horse. Sarah glanced at the list owners. The last name on the list was TEKILA KID, followed by a small drawing of a raven. At the very bottom it read, FROM THE KID 2 SINDY MILLER.

Sarah held it to her breast for a moment. Now she knew who all this had come from. She would never know the money the Tequila Kid gave her had been taken from the dead body of Kid Coley, the blood payment given to him by McCuller to kill her, the girls, all her neighbors and the Tequila Kid.

There was something else in the envelope. Sarah reached in once more, and her eyes filled with tears as she held the gold watch she’d given her husband. The same watch Kid Coley had taken off Eric’s dead body. Opening the watch, she looked at the small picture of her, Cindy and Amy.

Stepping into the yard, Sarah went to the grave marking her husband’s remains. She whispered, “We’re going to make it, Eric. Me and the girls, we’ll be fine. You can rest easy now.”

As she made her way back to the house, Amy came running up. She hugged Sarah around the waist, then took her hand. “Are you happy, Ma?”

Sarah picked the small girl up in her arms and swung her around until Amy squealed in delight. Then she kissed her child and said, “Yes, sweetheart. I’m the happiest woman on earth.” She set the girl back on the ground. “What about you, my love? Are you happy?”

The child gave her mother a dazzling smile. “I sure am. I got what I wanted for Christmas. More, even.” She paused. “I’m gonna go in and help Clara now. Thanks for lettin’ her stay with us, Ma. I like havin’ two sisters!”

“And I love having three daughters. Tell Clara I’ll be there in a minute myself,” Sarah told Amy before she scampered off.

A moment later, Cindy rode up on her new horse. “Isn’t she beautiful, Ma? I’m gonna name her ‘Tequila,’ after that girl Texas Ranger.”

Sarah could think of quite a few reasons why a girl of ten shouldn’t give her horse such a name, but instead of protesting, she said, “That’s a good choice, sweetheart.”

She watched contentedly as Cindy continued to ride around, then looked up toward the trail on the hill, shading her eyes with a hand. Squinting hard past the glare of bright snow and low sun, she carefully scanned the ridge.

Looking intently, she could just make out the small dark figure of a horse and rider against the snow.

Knowing she wouldn’t be seen, Sarah waved anyway. “Merry Christmas, Kid,” she whispered. “Thanks, and may God keep you safe.”

***

Arabella Elizabeth Hodgekiss DuMount had enjoyed a wonderful Christmas day with her new mother Clementine, and her new sisters Mimi and Susie. That evening as they finished singing carols by the piano, Clementine suggested the four of them head up to her room to spend the rest of the night doing what they enjoyed more than just about anything: undressing, slipping into bed and making love.

Arabella said, “I just want to step out for a breath of air, Mama. I’ll be up directly.”

Now she stood on the front porch, gazing up at the stars. “Kid, wherever you are, my Christmas wish is for you to come back to me some day. I love my new family, but I still miss you somethin’ awful. I can’t ever be all the way happy ‘til I see you again.”

She stood quietly for a long moment, then wiped away a few tears and went back inside.

***

After sending a brace of telegrams, the Tequila Kid hung around the office, waiting for replies. Once she’d explained how she’d never learned to read, the telegraph operator kindly offered to read each one to her. She’d had to send all the cables collect, as she’d run out of money yet again.

That night The Kid camped outside of town. As she waited for her coffee to brew in a crimped-up can on the campfire, she bedded Button down – talking to her all the while, as she often liked to do. It helped with the loneliness she sometimes felt on the trail.

After hobbling Button’s forelegs for the night, The Kid draped a blanket over the horse. “Sure was good of Abner to give me this old horse blanket for you, girl. You’ll be a little warmer tonight.”

She seated herself by the fire. “Well, girl, Captain Richards got the wire I sent. He cabled me back to let me know he’s on his way. He’ll be meetin’ up with me, him and a few Rangers. See, I got to show him where McCuller had all them bodies buried. Hope he don’t need me to help him make out the reports. I sure do hate doin’ that.”

She paused to pour her coffee, then continued. “And hell’s bells, is Andromeda ever hoppin’-ass mad at me! First, ‘cause I couldn’t spend Christmas with her… and ‘cause I cabled her collect yet again. Reckon I’ll have to treat her extra nice when I make it back to Knuckle Ridge in a couple weeks.” She chuckled. “Aw, once I’ve had me a bath and got her into bed, she’ll forgive me just about anything,” The Kid smiled, picturing the face of her steady lover. “Wonder how she’s been doin’ with her bone diggin’ since I saw her last. Maybe she’ll have one of them dino-saurs put together to show us when we get back.”

Taking the last swallow of coffee, she put her can away, then carefully spread out her bedroll next to the dying campfire. Before settling in for the night, The Kid wrapped both arms around Button’s strong neck and pressed her face against the horse’s side, listening to the mare’s beating heart. “Goodnight, girl. Andromeda told me not to forget to say how much she loves you. But I love you even more.”

Tugging her boots off, she climbed into her bedroll and tried to relax. In spite of herself, she gazed up at the sky, suddenly overcome by a surge of melancholy. The stars grew blurry as her eyes filled with tears,  and she fumbled for the gold wedding ring that she wore on a chain over her heart. The ring that Arabella had given her, the one that had belonged to the child’s late mother.

The Kid heaved a sigh. Damn it, Arabella… seems like every day, every night I’m left thinkin’ of you. I’m glad you’re just a little girl, and probably forgot all about me by now. I wish I could do that, let the memory of you go and move on. But I can’t. The love I feel for you still burns in my heart.

The Kid turned onto her side, then winced in discomfort. Reaching into her coat pocket, she found the pine cone Amy had decorated for her. Inside her bedroll, she cradled it to her chest, lost in thought.

Somethin’s been worryin’ my mind ever since little Amy sat on my lap and told me about Santa Claus. And what Jud said about Santa made it nag at me even more. Somethin’ I recall from a long time ago. Or was it a thing that happened to Amy, and I got it mixed up in my head?

She kept puzzling over it, like a child keeps picking at a scab on their knee.

At last a faint memory came to her out of nowhere, like the white wisp of smoke from the embers of the camp fire.

She was sitting on a sofa. Moonlight spilled through a window to illuminate a small scrubby pine tree and five stockings hung in a line above a hearth. The room was cold, but there was no fire lit. On the mantle of the hearth, a small glass of milk was placed next to a plate of cookies.

She was startled by a woman’s voice. “Why, Mary Ann! What are you doing out of bed at this hour?” The woman sat down, drawing her child into a warm embrace.

“I want to see Santa Claus, Mama.”

“Dear, you know Santa won’t come till everyone’s asleep. Pa and your brother and sister are all sleeping. You don’t want to be the one who keeps him from coming, do you?”

“No, Mama.”

“Come on, then. Let’s put you to bed.” The nice-smelling woman bent to pick her up, cradling her in the crook of an arm. She wrapped both arms around the woman’s neck, allowing herself to be carried to bed.

The woman gently laid her down next to her older sister, who was already fast asleep, then sat down beside her, humming a lullaby. Gently brushing a shock of rusty red hair from the little girl’s forehead, the woman lightly kissed her cheek, whispering, “I love you, Mary Ann.”

The Kid could almost recall the tune of the lullaby, but the whole of it evaded her. As she tried to call the melody to mind, she fell into a sound, peaceful slumber.

The End

For a list of the many characters who populate this saga, check out Dramatis Personae.

Thus far in our story…

Prologue: Hailey Ellis has returned to Morcant-On-Sea after several years away, only to find the coastal town is a shadow of its former self. Amidst this decline, Hailey navigates her various relationships, but a shocking encounter with her selkie aunt foreshadows a chain of events that will change all their lives forever.

Ch1: Several months later in the village of Derwold, the summer holidays begin for the Newton girls. Eleven-year-old Freya struggles to cope with the changes that adolescence brings, and wonders why she feels so angry and alone. To add to her unhappiness, she experiences her first period. 

Ch2: The next day, Freya has a chance meeting with Elsa Hart, wife of the new lord of Derwold Manor. A little later, Freya joins Sadie and her sister Millie for a lesson in alchemy, but things don’t quite go as planned when Millie inadvertently amplifies the potency of the love potion they’ve brewed. After the effects have worn off, Millie visits the churchyard to pay her respects to an old friend. Whilst there, she has an encounter with a black panther, and discovers she can communicate with the creature.

Ch3: Several days later, Simon and Elsa host a housewarming party in the grounds of the old manor. Elsa treats Freya to a tour of the recent restoration efforts, and the seeds are sown for a burgeoning friendship. Meanwhile, post mistress Sally Jeffries has a few too many drinks and ends up accidentally setting fire to pompous druid Bernard, then has a few choice words for Simon Derwold, who she remembers from decades before. Georgia, Sadie and Millie make their way home, where they indulge in a night of passion in the lounge, only to be interrupted by Elsa and Freya. Elsa comes to suspect her new neighbours are not all that they seem.

Ch4: The vicar of Derwold has been murdered by an unknown assailant. Unaware of the events that are about to unfold, Sadie tries to fathom the mysteries of the ancient standing stone near her cottage with the help of Freya and Millie. Later, Freya pays a visit to Derwold Manor, and she and Elsa enjoy an afternoon of passion. It turns out Elsa is using Freya for her own ends, and the eleven-year-old is tricked into revealing all their secrets.

Ch5: Sadie receives a concerning call from Vivaan Dinesh, Derwold’s resident doctor. At the surgery, she is confronted with the murdered vicar. Meanwhile, Millie rescues Bernard from the mysterious black panther, and the traumatised man confesses he’s not a real druid at all. 

Sadie sets out to investigate the vicar’s murder, and discovers that someone has set an arcane wall around the village, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. In the woods that surround Derwold, she meets Astris the dryad.

Ch6: Astris tells Sadie that Elsa is the one who has sealed off the village, though for what purpose she doesn’t know. The dryad also hints that Elsa is a witch, and that she harbours great power. Sadie researches the Derwold family and discovers they have a troubled history. She also discovers Elsa changed her name to conceal her past, and is inexplicably older than she seems. 

At the post office, Sally Jeffries tells Sadie a disturbing childhood story, in which an eight-year-old Simon tortured and killed his pet dog. Suspecting the vicar’s murder may have been Simon’s doing, Sadie hastens to Beekeeper Cottage to make sure everyone’s safe, but Freya has already gone to the manor to meet with Elsa. Sadie races to retrieve her.

Ch7: At Derwold Manor, stark truths are revealed. Elsa has sealed the village off to protect Simon. More than that, she intends to set the stage for a new world order, one where women rule and men are consigned to history. She asks Sadie and Millie to join her, but Sadie refuses. She and Freya arrive back at Beekeeper Cottage only to find Georgia and Millie missing. They are captured by Elsa’s thugs, and reunited with Georgia and Millie, the four of them are imprisoned in the manor. 

Discovering the large rock in the cellar where they are confined is actually an ancient standing stone, Millie manages to tap into its magic, and she and Sadie are transported to an unknown location. 

Ch8: Enraged, Elsa threatens to kill Georgia if Freya doesn’t tell her where Sadie and Millie have gone, but Freya manages to convince her they know nothing of their whereabouts. Taking no chances, Elsa locks them in a room full of taxidermy specimens. Freya opens up to her mother, expressing her fears and doubts.

Meanwhile, in the Cornish town of Morcant-On-Sea, a tribe of Selkie rescue a near-drowned Sadie and Millie, then point them in the direction of the lighthouse. Sadie hopes that whoever lives up there can help them get back home. Having reached their destination, they discover a strange cocoon-like object. Before they have time to consider exactly what it is or what it means, they realise someone has followed them into the lighthouse.

Ch9: Elsa uses the menhir to determine Sadie and Millie’s whereabouts. Having discovered they are in the town where she spent her childhood, the enraged woman prepares to recapture them. 

Meanwhile, Sadie and Millie meet Hailey and Derek. Hailey tells them that whatever’s sleeping inside the cocoon was once her selkie aunt, Rita. Sadie explains that she needs to get back to Derwold to rescue Georgia and Freya, but with no easy way back to the mainland, they will need to wait until morning. Meanwhile, Sadie’s cat familiar, Billy Buckham, sneaks into Derwold Manor with plans of his own.

Some time later, Millie is awakened by a strange voice summoning her to the top of the lighthouse. There she meets a spectral version of Rita, and the two of them enjoy a moment of intimacy, culminating in an exchange of old magics. Over on the mainland, Elsa makes her way towards the coast to prepare an invasion.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by BlueJean

1

Jack knelt bare-chested on the floor of his lounge, his arms forcibly held out to his sides by things that had surely been conjured from his worst nightmares.

He’d been sold a dodgy batch of weed, that had to be it. The bastards must’ve put some kind of hallucinogenic chemical in it. What other explanation for the shifting green mass of dead-eyed creatures that occupied his living room?

He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, trying to pull himself together. When he opened them again, the spectral horrors still haunted his vision.

And if that wasn’t madness enough to contend with, now the apparitions were parting to allow a woman through. Her hair was a shocking flame peppered with two streaks of grey at the temples. Jack felt a palpable sense of relief to know he wasn’t alone with these creatures anymore.

The woman folded to her knees before him. “Hello, handsome,” she crooned, brushing her fingers lightly against his cheek. “I saw your light on. I hope you don’t mind me calling at this late hour. I used to live in this house, you know. I love what you’ve done with the place.”

Jack stared terror-stricken at the newcomer. “I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m seeing things. Can you s-s-see them, too? Can you?”

The red-haired woman tittered gleefully. “Of course I can s-s-see them, s-s-s-silly boy,” she told him mockingly. “It was me that summoned them, after all.”

“What the fuck are they?”

“The dead, sweetling. The dead. Of course, they don’t know they’re dead. If they did, they would’ve returned to the Great Cycle by now. And the longer they linger between life and death, the more of their humanity they forget, until eventually there’s nothing left but hate and regret. A perfect army of mindless rage, ready to be utilised at a moment’s notice.”

“M-make them go away. Please.”

The woman trailed her fingers down Jack’s bare torso. She pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger and twisted painfully. Her mother had done the same thing to her many times, right here in this lounge.

Jack cried out, and the creatures in the room surged forward at the shrill sound.

“Sála!” the woman commanded, and it seemed to Jack that her voice came from all directions at once. He was unfamiliar with the word, and the language it belonged to, but somehow he still caught some sense of its meaning: Heel!

“No, you mustn’t make a fuss, my sweet,” the woman told him with mock concern. “The slightest thing can set them off. They despise the living, you see.”

She took his other nipple and twisted slowly, her nails digging into the tender flesh there. Jack clamped his mouth tight against the pain, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “Shhhh…” she whispered. “Not a sound, lovely boy. Not a sound.”

A dark patch appeared on the crotch of Jack’s lounge pants and spread outwards. The woman released his bloody nipple and gave him a sympathetic look.

“Oh, dear. It looks like you’ve had a little accident. Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She patted him on the head, and Jack flinched away from the contact.

“Dear me, you and I were having so much fun, I almost forgot the original purpose of my visit. What a scatterbrain I am!” She leaned into him. “I’m looking for a young woman and a little girl, you see. The woman is in her late twenties with long, chestnut hair. She’s very pretty – the kind of woman little boys like you sniff around like dogs. The girl is eight or nine with hair that’s dark blonde. She’s quite adorable, in a nauseating sort of way. Perhaps you prefer girls her age? Well, I’m not one to judge. They’re strangers to this town. Have you seen them?”

He had seen them, and he would’ve given them up without much thought to whatever this sadistic woman was going to do to them. He didn’t know these people, after all. They weren’t his problem. No one was asking him to protect two complete strangers, were they? No one had any right to demand that when a horde of undead were bearing down on him. That just wouldn’t be fair at all.

But he’d seen where the woman and her kid were headed from his bedroom window. Up towards the lighthouse. Up where Hailey and Derek lived. And Hailey and Derek were his concern. Derek was his friend and former captain. And Hailey was…

What was Hailey to him? Friend? Lover? Fuck buddy? Hailey had never made that very clear, and sometimes Jack needed people to spell things out for him, because it was too complicated to figure out that stuff for himself. She liked him, he knew that much, and he definitely liked her, enough that he didn’t want to send this spectral shitstorm heading her way.

Jack gave tiny shakes of his head, praying it would be enough to end his ordeal and make the lady and her pets go away.

The woman brought her face close to his, her breath warm against his ear. “I see the lie in your eyes, pissy boy,” she whispered. “I can do terrible, terrible things to you. Slow, painful, horrific things. You’ll beg me to kill you, but I won’t, not right away. And when I’m finally bored of playing, I’ll set my friends on you. They’ll tear you apart and claim you as one of their own. You mustn’t lie to me again, sweetling. I can’t stress that enough.”

She sat back on her haunches and smiled at him amicably. “Now. Let’s try again, shall we? Where did they go? Tell me.”

“L-l-lighthouse…” Jack whimpered, and in uttering that single word, some irretrievable part of his soul flickered out like a candle. He’d sold them out. As easily as that, he’d sold his friends out. And he could never take it back.

“The lighthouse, you say?”

Jack gave an almost imperceptible nod.

The woman tenderly pushed his lank hair back behind his ears. “Good boy. What a good boy you are.”

She rose to her feet, then turned to leave. The undead closed around her like a protective wall until both she and they were gone.

Jack collapsed to the floor and sobbed. “Sorry, Hailey… So sorry…”

Then he remembered his phone lying on the coffee table.

2

Hailey awoke with a start. Her phone was buzzing away on the nightstand next to her bed. In a fug of semi-awareness she reached out to see who the caller was, but knocked it onto the floor instead. Blindly fumbling around on the carpet, she managed to retrieve the device before it rang off.

It was Jack. Why the hell was he phoning her at this hour?

“Jack, what the fuck?” she groaned. “It’s 4:am.”

“Hailey! Get out of the house!” a frantic Jack cried, causing Hailey to pull the phone away from her ear with a wince.

“Wh-what? What’s happening?”

“Get Derek and run! She’s coming up to the lighthouse!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Jack? Have you been smoking that shit again?”

“Hailey, listen to me, I’m not fuckin’ around here! There’s a woman. She has an army of… I don’t know what the fuck they are – dead people! She’s lookin’ for a lady and a kid. She was gonna kill me, I had to tell her. She’s on her way. I’m hangin’ up. Get out of there! Now!”

Hailey stared at her smartphone for a moment, trying to make some sense of the bizarre call. She stood on the bed and peered out the porthole window. A sickly green glow roiled and undulated down by the harbour and the lower part of town. It looked like the Northern Lights, but that made no sense – Northern Lights happened in the sky, not down on the ground. And that green mass was moving through the streets at an alarming rate, like a wave of poison.

There’s a woman, Hailey! She’s coming!

“Oh my god…” Hailey murmured, then in a considerably louder voice: “Derek! Sadie!”

Sadie shot awake with a cry when Hailey crashed through the lounge door a few moments later.

“Sadie, there’s something coming!”

The witch brought her hands up in front of her. They were tingling like crazy, the power in her fingers readying itself, warning her something was near. She leapt from the couch and peeked behind the curtains. The night was awash with spectral energy, a green glow on the horizon that was rapidly encompassing the rest of the sky.

“No… Oh, bloody hell, no. This is not ideal.”

“What the hell is it?” Hailey demanded.

Derek barrelled into the lounge in a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. “That’s what I’d like to fuckin’ know. Last time I saw summit like that was out on the boat with Sully. He swore blind it were the ghost of old Captain Bren and the Siren.”

“Elsa’s raised the dead,” Sadie murmured, her face gone pale. “The silly bitch has raised the dead.”

“The dead? Like… the dead dead?” said Hailey. “W-we should probably go, right?”

“Go where, girl?” Derek said. “You know as well as I do the only way out is right through whatever the fuck’s headin’ our way.”

“It’s too late,” Sadie said with a note of resignation. “She’s here…”

The sea of dead crashed into the old stucco cottage with a ferocity that took the witch’s breath away. They clamoured at the walls and the windows, their numbers so great it sounded for all the world like some living, seething earthquake bearing down.

Elsa must have summoned them from miles around, millennia of seafarers lost to the depths, unaware of their plight and thus prevented from returning to the Cycle. Most times these spirits were benign, unable to interact with the living world in any tangible way, but once given a conduit into the physical realm, Elsa would use them to command havoc. It’d been much the same with Isabel – Sadie’s ancestor had only been able to cause such harm because she’d anchored herself to the great oak and leeched off the dryad’s power.

Sadie could hear them clawing at the weaker points of the building – the glass of the windows, the slate tiles on the roof, the floorboards beneath their feet. She knew the old cottage wouldn’t keep them out for long.

She backed away from the window, regarding her tingling hands absentmindedly, as if the answer might be found there. “Uh… Okay. Okay.” When she turned back to Derek and Hailey there was steel in her eyes. “Stay close to me,” she told them. “Whatever happens, do not run. I can’t protect you if you do. Millie, get up, I need your help!”

Sadie pulled back the quilt on the inflatable bed only to find it empty. “She’s gone. Millie’s gone… Millie! Millie, where are you?!”

3

Millie dreamed she was slumbering on a huge egg. It was warm and moist, and pulsated against her body like a beating heart. It invoked memories of the womb, safe and comforting.

It was the tingling in her hands that woke her. She’d felt it before, that day in the cemetery when the dead had stirred beneath her. But now it was greatly amplified, like a bad case of pins and needles, the kind of tingling that could drive you mad.

Millie opened her eyes and found herself draped naked across the Rita-Cocoon, her limbs wrapped around its egg-like circumference. It smelled of the sea, and something else beneath that – the earthy promise of sex, or perhaps the remnants of the act itself.

She slid to the floor and went to retrieve her clothes. How on earth had she ended up here? There’d been a naughty dream with a naked lady on a bed, and—

Something was coming. The lighthouse shook with the violence of its approach. Millie scrambled to slip her t-shirt and knickers back on just as the hatch in the floor flew open and the dead poured into the light chamber. She screamed in terror.

4

Sadie didn’t hear the scream, she felt it. She’d unfurled her animal senses, probing for any sign of Millie, the same way she’d found numerous lost pets and missing livestock – though the folks of Derwold had always believed their resident schoolteacher just had a knack for being in the right place at the right time, if they considered the strangeness of it at all. Elsa had been right about that, at least – hiding the arcane in plain sight was remarkably easy in the 21st century.

“She’s in the lighthouse!” the witch cried, startling Derek and Hailey. “We have to get to her!”

Sadie drew in as much power as she was able, then used it to set a ward around the three of them. She strengthened it with an ancient chant. “Ónteros pelnis dó pālājō!” Second skin to protect!

An invisible barrier shimmered into life around them. It was by no means impenetrable, more a deterrent, a portable version of Elsa’s weavewall set around the village of Derwold. Attempting to breach the ward’s boundaries would invoke fear in the dead, but convincing a spirit is far from the same as convincing a living person. The dead were without reason, mindless husks of the people they had once been. In their madness, Sadie knew the apparitions would do whatever they could to get at them. She would need to go on the offensive as well as the defensive.

This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? she told herself. Bonafide witch business. The real thing. Well, guess what? This is about as real as it gets, girl. Time to do or die.

“Stay close!” Sadie told Derek and Hailey, then began moving forward. She paused at the front door of the cottage, then turned back to them. “Get ready. Do not panic. Do not run. Understand?”

“Are we sure we want to do this?” Hailey said in a thin voice.

“We don’t have any choice, Hailey. I have to get to Millie.”

Pale-faced, Hailey gave a grim nod.

Derek made some effort to swallow his own fear. He smacked a fist into the palm of his other hand, then hollered, “Fuckin’ bring it on! I’m in the mood for spankin’ some zombies!”

Sadie gave a quick approving nod, then slung open the door. In a heartbeat, hell closed in around them.

5

“Tá sheol thú!”

Millie wailed the chant as the spectral horde flung themselves at her. It was the incantation used to send the dead back to the cycle, the same one Sadie had used on Isabel months before. But where Sadie had used it as a tool to gently persuade and compel, Millie now used it as a weapon, the old Celtic words sharp and precise, hurled out with ferocious momentum.

Spectral figures sputtered out of existence at the uttering, only to be replaced by scores more, the small light chamber seething with the vile things. Millie cried out in terror, barely resisting the urge to simply fall to the floor and curl into a little ball.

“Tá sheol thú! Tá sheol thú! Sadie! Help me!”

More of them imploded into nothing, but others flooded into the chamber to replace those lost, filling the spaces their undead brethren had vacated. Millie knew she was fighting a losing battle.

Sadie had often explained to her how language was used to reinforce magic, how different languages represented tiers of power. In Europe, the Celtic dialects had always been intrinsically linked with witchcraft, the modern variants considered the weakest, the ancient precursors more potent. The root of all Celtic languages, Proto-Indo-European, or ‘Eurasian’ as the witches know it, held the most power. Millie and Sadie had been learning the reconstructed language together.

Millie uttered the tenuous words now, hoping they would be enough to turn the tide. “Egō sontejō juwetū!”

The dead evaporated in greater numbers, three or four at a time. Still they came, though now they seemed less sure of themselves. Without any clear idea of what she was doing, Millie amplified the spell, projecting it like a sonic wave. It rippled out, obliterating spectres along its path.

Power sought power, tapping into hidden knowledge locked inside Millie’s genetic code. Older words formed in her mind, a dialect never intended to be uttered by human beings. The language of the Tuatha Dé Danann. The First Tongue.

Millie pushed the ancient chant out like a tsunami, the lighthouse groaning at the sorcery unleashed within its walls.

“Mœ. Nê. Dâ!”

The dead flickered out like candles. Any that remained turned tail and fled, terrified of whatever it was the child commanded.

“MŒ! NÊ! DÂ!”

The canopy overhead suddenly shattered, raining glass down on Millie as she stood with her eyes tight shut, trembling with the power coursing through her body.

When she found the courage to open her eyes once more, the dead were mercifully gone. But something worse now stood before her.

“What a naughty little girl you are,” Elsa crooned disapprovingly, hands hooked onto her hips. She briefly considered the strange mass of the cocoon occupying the chamber. Then she was upon Millie.

6

Sadie mustered all the power she could command to both maintain the ward and send as many of the dead onwards as she was able, throwing out her chants in all directions. A single bead of blood trickled from a nostril and dribbled into her mouth. She licked the coppery taste away, then resumed her grim work.

They had reached the lighthouse, and were slowly working their way up the spiralling metal staircase. The dead seethed around them. They dogged and besieged the protective ward, becoming increasingly emboldened each time they breached its tentative membrane. Hailey clung onto Sadie for dear life while Derek thrashed around with his fists, hollering his own set of unique chants:

“Who you gonna call?! Who you gonna fuckin’ call?! By the power of Greyskull!”

Sadie didn’t think those particular phrases were part of the witch’s repertoire, but she knew any words compelled by courage held their own curious power.

Without warning, some unknown blast of arcane energy exploded towards them like a shockwave, the deep thrum of it invoking a sudden nausea. Sadie looked up towards the top landing just in time to see a throng of undead vanish into nothing. Those that remained fled down towards them, crashing through the ward’s membrane with terror-stricken expressions etched onto their pale, dead faces. The ward held for a few scant seconds more, then failed completely.

“Get down!” Sadie cried, and the three of them collapsed to their knees, arms moving instinctively to cover their heads, for all the good it would do them.

The dead flew past, clearly more concerned with escaping whatever power had been turned against them than harming the three living humans left so suddenly exposed. The spectres that had harried them from behind were now retreating too, what little rationale they still possessed informing them it was probably wise to put as much distance between themselves and the lighthouse, and indeed the town, as possible.

Sadie peered down the stairs after them. “They’re gone.”

Hailey held onto Sadie’s arm so tightly her nails were beginning to dig into the flesh there. “W-what’s happening? Are we still alive?“

“Permission to shit my pants,” Derek said, his eyes wide with fear.

Before Sadie could deny the request, a child’s scream echoed through the lighthouse. The three of them raced to the top.

7

When they scrambled up into the light chamber, they found Elsa with an arm clamped around Millie’s throat, her other hand held out limply in front of her, blood dripping from a wound between thumb and forefinger.

“You bit me, you savage little bitch! How dare you!”

“Let her go, Elsa!” Sadie demanded.

Elsa regarded the young teacher with surprise. “Miss Laine, you’re alive. Bravo! What on earth have you been teaching this revolting little hobgoblin? She severed my link with the dead and sent them all running back to the sea.”

Derek stepped out in front of Sadie and Hailey, using the bulk of his arms in a foolish attempt to shield the two young women. “I ain’t never hit a woman before,” he attested, “but God help me, if you don’t let the littl’un go, I’m gonna stick my boot where the sun don’t shine.” Like the others, he was barefoot, but the sentiment was sincere enough.

With a look of pure fury, Elsa snaked a hand out towards the big man and projected a single word at him. “Kruwós!”

Blood erupted from Derek’s nose, spraying out in a wide crimson arc. He fell back against the wall with a wail, cupping his face with both hands in an attempt to stem the flow. Hailey folded to her knees beside her uncle.

“You’re lucky I have more pressing matters, Captain Birdseye,” Elsa hissed. “I’ve drained men dry for less.”

“Let Millie go, Elsa,” Sadie said. “She’s just a child, for Christ’s sake.”

“You’re not in control here, Sadie. I’m calling the shots, do you understand? The three of us are going home, and everyone is going to do as they’re fucking told!”

“I’m not helping you! Neither is Millie. Face it, you’ve made a mess of things. Find someone else to help you with your insane plans and leave us all alone.”

Elsa curled her lip up into a snarl. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you? I tried to be nice, but I see now that was a mistake. Unruly children need discipline, not mollycoddling.”

“What happened to you, Elsa?” Sadie said, trying to buy them some time until she could work out her next move. “I know your mother and her boyfriend died here in this town. I think you killed them, but you must have had a good reason.”

Elsa’s brow darkened, her eyes gone to flint. “I strongly advise you to shut your mouth, Miss Laine.”

“They hurt you, didn’t they? They hurt you and you lashed out. I don’t think you meant to kill them. You lost control. It wasn’t your fault. Stop this madness before it’s too late, Elsa. I can be a friend, if that’s what you need. Come back to the—”

Elsa held her palm out and thrust it forward. Sadie fell to her knees upon the cold metal floor. A terrible heat welled up inside her, kindling in the marrow of her bones. She screamed in agony.

“Tân a gwaed!” Elsa hissed. “Fire and blood! These are the weapons with which I killed my bitch of a mother, and I have kept them well honed, sister!”

“Leave Sadie alone!” Millie wailed, clamping her teeth over Elsa’s wrist and biting down hard enough to cause a jet of blood to spurt from the artery there. When she drew her mouth away, a small white tooth sat embedded in the flesh. Elsa roared in pain, but it wasn’t enough to make her release her grip on the child. Millie brought a foot out in front of her, as if she were about to frogmarch away, then swung it back with all her might, cracking it against Elsa’s shin.

Elsa howled, shifting all her focus to the child beneath her. She locked both hands around the girl’s throat and squeezed. “Vicious little monster!” she screamed. “You awful, awful people! I’ve had enough! I’m going to kill you! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!”

8

The creature inside the cocoon stirs from her long slumber.

She senses danger all around her, and the most primal of instincts rouses her to action: the need to protect the thing growing inside her at all cost. It is an utterly alien concept, for her kind do not give birth, but the other part of her understands the sentiment intimately, the old part, the part that remembers.

She is being pulled in two different directions. The wrongness of it induces a kind of breathtaking panic. The old part of her wants to escape, to use the thing growing in her belly as a vessel. Even now, memory and rationale migrate. What remains is base and animal – predation, hunger, instinct.

She can hear them outside. Angry, frightened, weak little creatures. Prey.

One of them is louder than all the others. Its sorcery washes against the walls of her cocoon. She can taste its arrogance. It believes it is all-powerful. It wants to dominate and control, but nature never intended its species to be apex predators, so it asserts its will fearfully, furtively. She will teach it the error of its ways.

Her stomach cramps with excruciating pain. The thing inside her grows with such speed and urgency. Such speed!

How dare these noisy, squawking primates invade her nest. How dare they disturb her rest and threaten her offspring.

The One Who Got Away. The name means nothing. And everything.

She’s angry. Very angry.

Her eyes flutter open.

9

A sudden urgent sound came from somewhere behind Elsa, like something tearing through flesh. From that shadowy part of the chamber, where the dim light of the single halogen wall lamp couldn’t quite reach, a grey mottled arm burst free of the cocoon, followed by the unfurling of a great membranous wing. Then another arm; another wing.

Elsa turned towards the ruckus, the rupturing cocoon no more than three feet away from her.

“What’s this now?” she said in wonder, and in answer, the full form of whatever had been gestating inside that sac for so many months chose this moment to unleash itself upon the world.

It exploded from the cocoon in a shower of amniotic fluid and, towering over Elsa, wasted no time in sinking its razor-sharp teeth into her right shoulder before the woman even had time to register the attack.

Elsa roared, a sound that was equal parts outrage and pain. She released her grip on Millie, affording the eight-year-old the brief opportunity to scramble quickly away. Hailey reached forward to grab her, shielding the child with her arms.

The creature thrashed its wings violently, their span so wide there was nowhere in the cramped confines of the light chamber to escape their reach. Sadie, now free of Elsa’s sorcery, noted with some horror that the creature had no choice but to keep beating them – with a long, serpent-like tail in place of legs, it would’ve collapsed to the floor otherwise. This was a thing designed to both swim beneath the water and fly through the skies.

Its upper body was that of a woman, pale grey breasts protruding from its chest. But its face was merely a mockery of womanhood, a death mask incapable of displaying the full spectrum of human emotions. Mimicry, plain and simple, the way a Death’s-Head Hawkmoth imitates a bee.

“Rita!” Derek cried, stumbling in front of Hailey, for it was indeed Rita’s face the monstrosity wore. “Rita, stop!”

The creature struck him with a wing, knocking the big man off his feet and into the wall. It was in a frenzy now, attacking anything it could reach, no doubt panicked to find itself in such inexplicable confinement. It grabbed the elevated dais in the center of the chamber that housed the huge lamp and lunged downwards, snapping at Hailey and Millie, its tail whipping back and forth in the air.

Hailey dragged the girl with her as she scrambled back towards the open hatch in the floor, her momentum inadvertently slamming it shut.

“KRUWÓS!” Elsa howled, unleashing a burst of sorcery at the thrashing creature. Blood sprayed from its sickly grey nipples, like grim sustenance intended for some hellish offspring. More blood trickled from its soulless black eyes. The thing screeched, a sound so loud and piercing in the confines of the light chamber, it made the eardrums pulsate. Millie covered her ears, burying her face in Hailey’s chest.

The creature flew at Elsa and caught her in a deathly embrace. Arms locked to her sides, Elsa could no longer direct her sorcery at the thing. It let out another nauseating screech, then bit down on Elsa’s right ear, ripping the appendage away from her head as if it were tissue paper. Elsa let out a howl that almost rivalled the creature’s in intensity and volume.

The monster lifted itself into the air, beating its wings with such force and alacrity they cracked the surrounding air with miniature sonic booms. Then it flew up through the shattered canopy and away, Elsa still clutched tightly in its arms. The dark witch’s screams echoed into the night, then faded to nothing.

10

No one moved for several long seconds.

“What the hell was that?” Hailey whispered, too afraid to speak the words out loud.

“A siren,” Sadie answered as she shuffled towards Hailey and Millie. She took Millie in her arms and began picking shards of glass from the child’s hair. “I believe it was a siren.”

“Aye,” Derek agreed, nursing the impressive collection of wounds he’d accrued. “Never seen one ’till tonight, but it were a siren all right.”

Hailey put her hands to her face and sobbed. “My god, poor Aunt Rita… This is terrible.”

“We need to get out of here,” Sadie said, “before it comes back.”

“She ain’t comin’ back,” said Derek.

“What makes you say that?”

“A siren don’t hunt its prey, it lures it in.”

“Yes, of course. The Siren Song. But still, if I’m to get back to Derwold, this may be our only window. If that thing’s out there, it has Elsa to – to deal with. At least for a while.”

Sadie made a reasonable assumption that Elsa would be the creature’s first meal upon entering the world, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to voice the notion.

“Don’t call her a thing,” Hailey whimpered. “She was my aunt.”

Sadie shook out Millie’s soft blonde curls of any remaining glass while Derek put a comforting arm around his niece.

“We’re going home, Millie,” the witch said softly. “How does that sound?”

“My tooth came out,” Millie said in a quiet voice, as if it were of little consequence.

Sadie pulled the child close and held her for a long moment, fighting back the urge to burst into tears. Millie looked so small and helpless. She didn’t much like the way the eight-year-old stared off into some imaginary distance, either.

11

When the four of them emerged barefoot from the lighthouse, the night had given way to the first rays of morning.

“What the hell,” Hailey murmured, gazing out towards the sea.

“What’s wrong?” Sadie asked.

“The lighthouse was never this close to the cliff edge.”

Hailey walked out to investigate. She stopped a metre from the edge, then sank to her knees, hands clutching despairingly at her head. “Oh my god…”

When the other three joined her, they offered their own versions of shock and disbelief.

Morcant-On-Sea was gone.

Elsa had vowed to wipe it from the map, and it’d not been an empty threat. Almost the entire town had collapsed, a gaping maw of chalk, sandstone and mud where once there had been roads and houses. A few roofs still peeked through the rubble, but most of the buildings had gone the way of the rest of the cliffside, shuttled down until whatever remained was piled up in the harbour district.

At least some of the houses on that lower part of town had survived. Hailey felt some measure of relief at knowing Isla and Madeline’s beachside property had remained largely untouched, but then a knot of despair welled up inside her – Jack’s house had sat halfway up the town. Like everything else around it, the building was nowhere to be seen.

“Jack… oh God, no! How could this happen?”

“It’s all gone,” Derek muttered. “I can’t believe it.”

“Was it Elsa?” said Millie.

“The dead came through like an earthquake,” Sadie said, by way of an answer. “If the cliffs were already unstable…”

“Let’s just get down there,” Derek said. “See what’s what.”

12

The four of them stopped off at the cottage first to get changed into their clothes and pick filaments of glass from bare feet and hair as best they could. When they were done, they made their way to the edge of the cliff, where the gate to Hailey and Derek’s property now opened out onto a yawning void.

“How’re we going to get down?” Sadie asked.

“Slow and careful,” Derek replied, lowering himself into a squat. “Climb aboard, shipmate,” he told Millie, gesturing to his back.

Millie clambered onto the big man, wrapping her limbs around his sturdy form. Derek lowered himself over the edge and began picking his way down while Sadie and Hailey followed closely behind. The four of them avoided any sheer drops, opting instead for the slopes, but the ground was loose and unstable beneath their feet, and more than once they found themselves slipping and sliding until they were able to gain purchase once more.

When they’d reached the halfway point, where the cliffside levelled out to a temporary wide ridge before continuing down, they found a handful of residents toiling away at the buried remnants of a house. Among them were Madeline and Isla, the two of them sifting through rubble and detritus. When Hailey saw who was with them, she sobbed with relief.

“Jack!”

Pale-faced and haggard, Jack pulled away bits of wood and brick from the destroyed home. When he saw Hailey and Derek, he clambered over to them and drew Hailey into a rough hug. “I thought she was gonna kill you! I couldn’t’ve lived with myself if she had. I’m so fuckin’ sorry!”

“It’s alright, Jack,” Hailey told him, kissing him on the mouth. She drew back and winced at the sight of the angry black bruise on his bare chest, the nipple there torn and bloody. There was no time to ask how he’d come by it. “I thought the worst about you, too. How did you manage to escape your house?”

“I got out just before the town collapsed. I figured goin’ in the opposite direction to those… things was prob’ly the best idea, so I ran down to the harbour. Then everything just started comin’ down.“

Jack looked shame-faced at Derek. “I feel like a right coward. I led them your way, didn’t I? But them ghosts, see, they was bad. I never saw nothin’ like ’em before. And that woman, she was a nasty piece of work.”

Derek lowered Millie to the ground, then put a rough hand on the back of Jack’s nape, drawing their brows together. “Don’t be fuckin’ daft, boy. They would’ve killed ya, and then found us anyway, most likely. I saw ’em with me own eyes. Don’t know any man that’d be brave enough or foolish enough to try and stand up to the dead.”

No, it takes a woman to do that, Sadie considered imparting.

“You would, Derek,” Jack told his old captain. “You would’ve told ‘em to go fuck themselves, wouldn’t you?”

Aye, boy, Derek thought. I wouldn’t’ve sold my friends up the river like you did. I would’ve let ’em tear me apart before I did that. But then, I ain’t got much to live for these days.

“We all made it out alive, didn’t we?” Derek said instead, not wanting to make the boy feel any worse than he already did. He looked across at the destroyed house. “Well, most of us.”

“Are there people buried under here?” Hailey asked Madeline.

“I can’t be sure, but we think this was Elsie Ryder’s house,” the doctor said.

Elsie was old and had lived alone in her bungalow for many years. If she had died here, Hailey prayed it’d been in her sleep, unaware of her plight and the horrors that’d caused it. “We’ll send help,” she said.

“Where’re you going?” demanded Isla. “You can’t just leave!”

“We have to get Sadie and Millie back to the mainland. It’s a matter of urgency,” Hailey answered, then realised how that might sound.

“More urgent than this?” Madeline asked incredulously. She brushed her hands against her slacks and trudged towards Derek. Her hair was in disarray, and she was devoid of makeup. The sleeves of her cotton shirt were rolled up to her elbows, then tied into a knot around her waist. She looked for all the world like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With the Wind.

Hailey couldn’t help but feel a grudging admiration for the woman – Madeline was the last person she’d ever expect to see knee-deep in dirt and rubble, toiling away with the rest of Morcant’s dwindling populace. But despite her many faults, Madeline Guiliani was still a doctor, and was it not a doctor’s instinct to preserve life at all cost?

“What the hell is going on?” Madeline hissed. “Does this have anything to do with Rita, that thing up there in the lighthouse? God knows, the cliffs were unstable, but a town doesn’t just collapse like that, Derek! And that weird green mist? Jack was near hysterical when we found him down by the harbour, spouting some nonsense about the living dead.”

“It weren’t nonsense, Madeline!“ Jack cried.

“It ain’t easy to explain, Mad,” Derek told the woman. “And there’s no time to. But we’ll be back, don’t you worry.”

Madeline seemed ready to say more, but instead she waved a dismissive hand and turned back to the grim task of searching for survivors.

Hailey placed one last kiss on Jack’s brow before the four of them continued on down to the harbour and Derek’s boat.

13

While Hailey, Sadie and Millie climbed aboard the fishing vessel, Derek refuelled the boat via a large tub of diesel kept on deck. After several attempts at turning the ignition, it seemed uncertain whether the neglected trawler would start at all, but eventually it did, and they were on their way.

As they moved at a brisk pace along the coast, towards the river Severn, Sadie surveyed the utter destruction they were leaving behind. “What have we brought to your doorstep?” she murmured. “I am so very sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hailey told her. “This is all on Elsa.”

“Do you think Rita ate Elsa?” Millie asked quite seriously as she sat on Sadie’s knee.

Despite themselves, the two young women looked at one another and smiled. It was a bizarre notion, until they stopped to consider that it might very well be true.

“To be honest, I’m not sure if sirens enjoy eating sour old harridans or not,” Sadie offered. “Personally, I prefer sweet little girls.” She wrapped her arms around Millie’s waist and pretended to nibble at the child’s neck. Though disheveled, feverish, and utterly exhausted, Millie still found room for a smile. She laced her fingers into Sadie’s.

Hailey could not have failed to recognise the signs – the way they touched one another; gazed into each other’s eyes. An intimacy like that went far beyond the boundaries of teacher and student. She was quick to recognise it for what it was. Hadn’t she experienced the very same forbidden passion with Rita, Madeline and Isla all those years ago? It was like discovering someone else who spoke the same secret language.

She yearned to ask, to know how they had come to such a place, perhaps even to speak of her own experiences. But Hailey couldn’t be completely sure she had the right of it, and regardless, there were more important things to think about right now. “Rita’s not Rita anymore, is she?” she said.

Sadie was quiet for a time. “No,” she finally answered. “I don’t believe she is.”

“I think Rita’s still there somewhere,” Millie said. “She called me to the lighthouse.”

“Is that why we found you there, sweetheart?” asked Hailey. “Because Rita spoke to you?”

Millie considered that for a moment. “I think so. She wanted something from me, but I can’t remember what.”

“The Selkie project a kind of glamour,” said Sadie. “It seems to draw people to them.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Hailey replied with a bitter smile. “Rita’s been using it on me for years. The same with Derek, I suppose. In some way, I think she set her own trap when my uncle stole her skin and hid it away.”

Sadie made a soft hum of agreement. “It’s incredible to think that some Selkie transform into Siren, but it must be a rare occurrence. Now that I think about it, it makes a certain sense. They both use a glamour; they’re both creatures of the ocean.”

“We’ve lost her for good,” Hailey murmured. “Poor Aunt Rita…”

Sadie gave a wince. “I’m such an idiot. Here I am prattling on with no thought of what you’ve lost. I’m sorry, Hailey.”

Hailey shook her head. “It’s okay. I lost my job too, and now my home, I guess. But I met you and Millie, so you know, every cloud.”

“But we dragged that bitch along with us.”

“I already said that wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad—” Hailey cut herself short. She peered around her, brow creased into a furrow. “Wait, why are we turning round?”

Hailey entered the wheelhouse where Derek was driving the boat. “Uncle Derek? What’s wrong? Why are we heading back towards Morcant?”

Derek’s face was set firm. “I can hear her, Hailey. She might be hurt out there. We should go to her, you know? Just a little detour, tha’s all. It won’t take long.”

“What’s happening?” Millie asked.

“Shh,” Sadie told her apprentice as she scanned the open water, a silencing finger held to her lips.

The sound was faint, but had a strange pitch to it that seemed to echo through air and water, a tremulous thrum that resonated in the pit of the stomach. If Sadie had been pushed to describe the sound (and never having heard anything quite like this, it was difficult to describe), she could only think to compare it to the sound of both whale and bird. It was strangely compelling.

Siren Song. What else could it be?

Sadie slipped Millie off her knee and rushed to the wheelhouse. “Derek, listen to me,” she said, placing a hand on the man’s broad shoulder. “That’s not Rita out there. Not anymore. Turn the boat around or we’re all going to die.”

“You don’t understand, girl. It is Rita. Why would she be callin’ to me if she didn’t remember who I was? It don’t make no sense otherwise. After everything I done to her, I got to help her now.”

“I have to get home, Derek. I can’t waste any more time, do you understand? Close your mind against it. She’ll hurt you if you go to her.”

Sadie gave Hailey an imploring look. Hailey nodded her understanding. She turned her uncle’s face towards her.

“I hear her too, Uncle Derek. We’ll come back here to look for her, if that’s what you want, but not now. We need to get Sadie and Millie back to their village. Their friends are in danger. Turn the boat around, okay?”

Hailey put a hand atop her uncle’s and gently turned the wheel. Derek looked back at her with tired eyes. “Aye. You’re right, girl. You’re always right, ain’t ya? Dunno what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back to Morcant and set me straight. What a fuckin’ mess I’ve made o’ things.”

Hailey kissed her uncle on his hairy cheek. “Shut up, you big drama queen. You don’t have a monopoly on making a mess of things. We’ve all done our fair share of that.”

Derek smiled. “Aye, true enough. True enough.”

Set back on course along the coast, Sadie and Hailey settled into their seats once more. Millie sidled back into her teacher’s lap.

“I wanted to go to her too,” Hailey admitted. “But it wasn’t particularly hard to resist.”

“Not for you,” Sadie told her. “But Derek would’ve found it much harder to ignore.”

“Why?”

“Because men are the weaker sex. Mentally, at least. It’s no coincidence that all the old Siren tales mostly involve men sailing to their doom.”

“Wait, back up, girlfriend. Men are the weaker sex? Is that official?”

“Pretty much.”

Hailey threw a fist into the air. “Yes!”

Sadie and Millie laughed.

14

As they entered the Mouth of the Severn some time later, Sadie and Millie had drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms while Hailey took a seat next to her uncle in the wheelhouse. She offered to take a turn driving the boat, but a thin mist had settled over the water, and Derek told her it’d be best if he kept the wheel for now. For all his bluster and high-spirited bravado, Hailey couldn’t deny her uncle had always taken his job as captain seriously.

She left him to it and sat back down opposite Sadie and Millie. Oblivious in her slumber, Sadie had let a hand wander between Millie’s thighs. Hailey watched as she stroked the child through her leggings, the eight-year-old emitting content mewls in her sleep.

Sadie’s eyes flickered open and saw Hailey staring back at her. She noticed where her hand was poised and pulled it quickly away, then gave a yawn. “Hi.”

“Rita seduced me when I was eleven,” Hailey declared, her voice low enough that Derek couldn’t hear. “I found a video of her and Madeline doing things to Madeline’s daughter. Isla was only five then. I had sex with Madeline, too. I later found out she had a long history of sexual encounters with children, usually with their mothers’ approval. She can be very persuasive. I enjoyed my time with them very much, and think about it often when I masturbate.”

Sadie stared back at her for a long moment, reluctant to so much as blink. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You know why. I’ve seen the way you look at Millie. I just need to know she’s happy with what you’re doing.”

Sadie felt like she was suddenly backed into a corner, panic threatening to make her do something rash. She forced herself to keep her cool. Lashing out wouldn’t help here.

No one had ever found them out so easily before. Except for Elsa, she supposed, and that was only because Freya had opened her mouth. She could’ve kicked herself for her complacency. There had been a kind of protection over them back in Derwold, an air of acceptance that comes from familiar neighbours who have little reason to scrutinise people they know so well. It was Elsa’s hide-in-plain-sight theory at work again. And something else, something indefinable – old magics at work that kept trouble from their doors. Derwold was a special place. Derwold was an old place.

But leave the confines of home and everything changes. Strangers see things that friends miss. Strangers open their eyes and look.

“If Millie didn’t consent, I wouldn’t do it,” Sadie finally said. “Yes, she’s happy.”

“And her mother? Her sister?”

“If you’re asking if they know, then yes. If you’re asking if they participate – I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” said Hailey. “You’re right, it’s none of my business, and if everyone’s on board with it, then it’s all good. I just… seeing you touch her brought back some fond memories, that’s all. And Millie… she’s so cute.”

Millie was stirring now. She stretched her arms in a big yawn. Some colour had reached her cheeks again, and she looked healthier for it. “I am cute, actually,” she agreed. “Everyone says so. To be honest, it’s a bit of a pain being so adorable sometimes, but we work with what we’ve got. Right, ladies?”

Hailey clapped her hands together and shrieked with laughter. “Omigod, I’ve heard it all now!”

“Oi, stop havin’ fun back there!” Derek hollered from the wheelhouse – and just like that, the tension in the air evaporated.

“You’re going to be trouble when you’re older,” Hailey told Millie sincerely.

“Oh, she’s already trouble,” Sadie insisted. She glanced at Derek over Hailey’s shoulder, then settled her gaze on the young woman opposite her. Bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she snaked a hand back between Millie’s legs.

Millie pulled her leggings up higher, stretching the material over her mons to form a camel toe as she gave Hailey a naughty grin. Hailey could only stare in wonder.

“Do you like watching me do this?” Sadie asked Hailey, sliding a finger back and forth through the narrow crease of Millie’s vulva.

“Yeah,” Hailey replied, mesmerised.

“How about this?”

Sadie slipped her hand beneath the elastic of Millie’s leggings and panties. Penetrating the little girl’s pussy, she pumped her finger in and out, knuckles stretching the thin fabric.

Hailey peered back over her shoulder briefly. Derek was oblivious. Poor Derek had always been oblivious. “I like it,” Hailey confessed. “I like it a lot.”

“But she’s only eight, Hailey,” Sadie cooed. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m finger-fucking an eight-year-old girl?”

Hailey could only shake her head. Her sex pulsed with a steadily rising heat.

Sadie pulled her hand from Millie’s leggings and held up her middle finger. It was glazed in a thin sheen of liquid. She brought it to her nose and sniffed. “Mmm… smells so nice.” She crooked the offending finger in Hailey’s direction. “Come closer, Hailey.”

Hailey leaned forward in her seat. Sadie spun the finger round and round, moving it ever closer towards the beguiled young woman. When it found her nose, Hailey breathed in the scent of little girl pussy, raw and heady.

“Taste,” Sadie said, and popped her finger into Hailey’s mouth.

Hailey had time to savour the slightly sour taste before Sadie drew her finger away and slipped it back inside Millie’s knickers. Back out it came a few seconds later, then found its way between Hailey’s open lips once more.

“Doesn’t she taste divine?” Sadie asked, checking to make sure Derek was still occupied. Thankfully, even had he glanced their way, Hailey was mostly obscuring his vision. The coast clear, Sadie peppered kisses across Millie’s neck, her tongue teasing at the girl’s nape. “Let’s pull your knickers down a little bit, poppet,” she said, and Millie lifted her bum, allowing Sadie to roll the leggings and panties down just enough to expose her bare slit.

A groan escaped Hailey’s lips.

“Shhhh…” Millie whispered with a finger to her lips. “You can touch me if you like, Hailey. Don’t tell anyone though, okay? It has to be our secret.”

“I won’t tell,” Hailey agreed.

In a carefully calculated move, Sadie took Hailey’s hand and brought it between Millie’s legs. Millie was warm and smooth, and Hailey wasted no time in brushing the tips of her fingers over the girl’s puffy labia.

Good, Sadie thought. Hailey has crossed the line with us.

It was uncharacteristically devious of Sadie. Millie wasn’t hers to share, and she knew Georgia wouldn’t approve, but it was necessary if they were to avoid complications.

Christ, I’m starting to think like Elsa, she considered with some alarm. Is this how it begins?

Sadie unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a discreet hand inside. “Lick your finger if you want to fuck her with it,” she told Hailey. “She’ll take all of it, won’t you, sweetie?”

Millie nodded enthusiastically. “Go as deep as you can, Hailey. I like to feel it moving in and out.”

“Oh, God,” whispered Hailey, though what dark deity she was invoking was anyone’s guess. She sucked her index finger, coating it in saliva, then brought it to the entrance of Millie’s vagina.

“Fuck her,” Sadie hissed, a hand toiling beneath her knickers. “Finger-fuck that little girl.”

Hailey slipped her finger into Millie’s cunt, all the way up to the third knuckle. She slowly drew it back out, then slipped it back in again.

“Faster!” Millie whispered, so Hailey began pumping her finger back and forth. Millie was so tight. So warm and wet and tight.

Hailey checked on Derek once more, then quickly popped the button on her own trousers, tugging the zip down. She strummed her fingers across her engorged clit, moving in time with the finger she was using to fuck Millie.

Millie leaned across and whispered in Hailey’s ear conspiratorially. “Do you want me to put my fingers in your pussy, Hailey? I will if you want.”

Hailey responded by pulling her jeans and knickers down until they ringed her thighs, then placed one of the girl’s hands against her throbbing sex. Millie felt around for a few seconds before plunging two fingers into the young woman’s cunt. If it hadn’t been for the thrum of the boat’s engine, and the lapping of water against the hull, the liquid sound of Millie’s fingers pumping back and forth would’ve surely drawn a curious glance from Derek.

Sadie came against her own hand, the climax unusually intense after so much pent up stress was finally able to find a means of release. She pulled her fingers from her sodden pussy and popped them into Millie’s mouth.

The sight was enough to send Hailey over the edge. She bucked against Millie’s fingers, whimpering as quietly as she was able, finally nodding to indicate she was spent.

Retrieving her hand, Millie brought two glistening fingers to her nose, breathing in the young woman’s  scent. She grinned at Hailey sheepishly. “You smell good.”

Hailey returned the smile, then regarded the finger she still had buried deeply in Millie’s snug little hole. “Shall I keep playing with you?” she asked the child, then to Sadie: “Is she able to come?”

Hailey had no reason to assume Millie knew what ‘come’ meant, of course. How could Hailey possibly comprehend the full extent of everything they’d indulged in.

“She doesn’t always come,” Sadie told her.

“Mummy says I don’t always have to, because I’m too young for it to matter much.”

“Land ahoy!” came a loud holler from the wheelhouse, making the three of them jump.

Hailey hastily jerked her finger from Millie’s pussy, and the three of them scrambled to reinstate their clothing.

“You don’t need to bloody shout, Uncle Derek!”

“Oh, beggin’ yer pardon, m’lady! I’ll write a fuckin’ letter next time, shall I? There ain’t no whisperin’ at sea, girl! Look lively!”

***

Breaking news: Picturesque Cornish town, Morcant-On-Sea, fell victim to a catastrophic landslide in the small hours of last night, completely destroying homes and infrastructure. The peninsula, home to the famous Seahenge, has suffered from severe coastal erosion in recent years, leading to the town becoming largely abandoned. Eyewitnesses report seeing a strange green cloud just before the incident, leading to speculation that a gas explosion may have played a part in the disaster. Rescue teams and the emergency services arrived on the scene an hour after the incident. The search for survivors has begun, and continuing support is being offered to residents. We’ll bring you updates as we have them.

National News Agency

15

A short while later, the trawler glided into the small harbour of the Anglo-Welsh border town of Lydney. The sky had taken on an ominous appearance, dark clouds roiling on the distant horizon. The air was cool and still. Derek tied the boat up to the jetty, and the four of them disembarked.

“How will you get back home from here?” Hailey asked Sadie.

“By rail is quickest,” Sadie told her. “There’s a train from here that stops close to Derwold.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll see when we get there, I suppose. At least we don’t have Elsa to deal with anymore.”

“You could just call the police. Let them deal with it.”

Sadie shook her head. “I’ve thought about it. But I have no idea if the village is still inaccessible. And besides,” she peered across the jetty at Millie, “we have too much to lose if the police start asking questions.”

“Sure, I get it.“

“What will you and Derek do now?”

Hailey watched her uncle carry out a rudimentary maintenance of the boat. He performed the task half-heartedly, his attention frequently returning to the open waters, as if he were anxious to be back out there. “We’ll return to Morcant and offer what help we can,” she said. “After that – I have a feeling we’ll be searching for Rita.”

Sadie placed a hand on the young woman’s arm. “Let her go, Hailey. You must. You saw what that thing’s capable of. It’s suicide to go looking for her.”

Hailey’s mouth tightened. “I told you not to call her a thing.”

“I will call her that! Because she’s not your aunt anymore. Whatever happened to Rita can’t be undone. You need to understand that.”

“He’ll go out there looking for her, regardless,” Hailey said, nodding towards her uncle. “I can’t let him do it alone, so if I can’t talk some sense into him, it looks like we’re going.”

“To do what?” Sadie asked incredulously.

Hailey offered a wry smile. “We’ll see when we get there, I suppose.”

The point was well taken. Hailey and Derek’s dilemma was not so different from Sadie’s. They all had their own problems to deal with.

“Make me a promise,” she told Hailey. “If you run into trouble, fall back and call me. Maybe I can help.” They had all exchanged numbers back on the boat. Sadie had given Hailey her home number, as well – their smartphones had been taken by Elsa’s thugs, and she had no idea if they’d ever see them again. “If you’re doing this, then do it smart.”

Hailey nodded. “I will.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

The two women stood and regarded one another wistfully for a moment. Then Sadie drew Hailey into a hug. “I wish you could’ve met Georgia and Freya. I’ll miss you, Hailey.”

“Me too,” said Hailey earnestly.

16

Millie sat on the gunwale of the boat, legs dangling over the edge. Peering out across the water, she considered the extraordinary events of the last day. It seemed like forever since she’d last seen her mum and sister, though in reality, it’d only been yesterday. So much had happened since.

One of the tasks Sadie set her students during the summer holidays was to write an essay about something they’d done during the extended break. Millie knew she could never tell the other kids about her adventures, but if such a thing had been permitted, she thought it might’ve gone something like this:

On my summer holidays, I was kidnapped by Lady Derwold, who turned out to be a dark witch, and a bit of a nutter to boot. Luckily, there was an ancient standing stone in the basement where we were imprisoned, so I used it to teleport me and Miss Laine to a Cornish town miles away.

Unfortunately, we came out the other side underwater, and would’ve surely drowned if it hadn’t been for the timely intervention of some nice selkies. Selkie are people that turn into seals, if you didn’t know. Or possibly seals that turn into people. Then we met Derek and Hailey, who live in a lighthouse.

Later that evening, Elsa raised an army of undead and tried to re-kidnap us, but I used my magic to scare the dead away and thwart her nefarious plans. She was so angry, she nearly strangled me to death, but just in the nick of time, Hailey’s Aunty Rita (who used to be a selkie, but then turned into a siren) burst from a giant egg, bit Elsa’s ear off, and then flew off with her.

We quickly made our escape, but the entire town of Morcant-On-Sea had been destroyed, so we had to climb our way down the cliffside. Safe and sound on Derek’s boat, we made our way home.

Millie tittered to herself. How’d you like that, Mia Pissypants? Makes your holiday in Greece look like a trip to Butlins.

She felt a big pair of hands settle on her shoulders and turned to find Derek peering down at her. She gave him a gap-toothed smile.

“It suits ya,” Derek said of the missing tooth.

“I quite like it, actually,” Millie agreed. “I think I might keep it like this.”

Derek nodded gravely, his attention drawn back to the open water. “How we doin’, Millie?”

“We’re doing okay,” Millie told him. “You’re going to look for Rita, aren’t you?”

Derek let out a big sigh. “Aye. To end it once and for all, whatever the hell that means.”

Millie furrowed her brow into deep lines of concentration. That thing was happening again – ideas floating around in her head she couldn’t quite grasp. She’d had the same feeling about the Dryad, wondering how the forest spirits had come to be, and again when she’d met the Selkie. It was like a big jigsaw puzzle with some of the pieces missing. And now she was on the cusp of understanding once more. So unbelievably frustrating!

“Derek,” she began. “Rita is still there. Don’t give up on her.”

Derek regarded the child with wonder. “Where is she?”

Millie thought about it for a long moment. Finally she touched her stomach. “Here? Maybe?”

“Er… in yer belly?”

“Not my belly.” Millie shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed.

Derek looked seriously at the girl for a spell, then broke into a grin. “I reckon yer ‘avin’ old Derek on. It ain’t nice to take the piss out of the elderly, ya know.”

Millie took the opportunity to show off her new smile again. “You’re not that old. I had a friend who was much older than you. His name was Mr. Dalliard.”

“Boyfriend, was he?”

Millie shook her head seriously. “Just a friend. You remind me of him.”

“Well, I’m honoured.”

Sadie called up to her from the jetty. “Millie, we’re going now.”

Millie and Derek climbed back down from the boat, and the four of them said their goodbyes. Sadie and Hailey promised to keep in touch, and Millie promised to send a big jar of Newton honey in the post, though it was far from certain whether Derek and Hailey would ever return to their home on the cliff, or even if the old cottage was still deemed habitable.

A short while later, Sadie and Millie were on a train bound for home, and whatever awaited them there.

Soon to come: Chapter Eleven!

by Rachael Yukey

Got to keep runnin’
Stormbringer comin’
He’s got nothing you need
He’s gonna make you bleed 
Deep Purple, 1975

There’s movement on the broken, crumbling asphalt that gradually gives way to gravel. Eyes squint in the moonlight, but can make out no details until the shadowy figure approaches the wash of illumination from one of the few remaining street lamps that still function. An old man walking a dog, and taking his sweet time about it.

The watcher hunkers back down, pulling his jacket more tightly around his upper half. The delay is a temporary annoyance, no more. That painted-up whore will be out for a couple more hours, at the very least. He has plenty of time.

***

Watching Cindy Moen delicately trace Julie’s bottom lip with the tip of a finger, Nettie Hastings felt her pulse quicken. She reined in her excitement through force of will. Enticed though she was by what was taking place on her sofa, Nettie knew she and Hannah needed time to themselves.

Julie was gazing at her expectantly, the question about sleeping arrangements still hanging in the air.

“Ummm…” Nettie thought fast. “I think it’ll be me and Hannah in my bedroom. There are guest rooms down the hallway—just take whichever one you want. First door on the right has the biggest bed.” She thought it best to leave any implications unspoken.

Her eyes turned to Halee. “That goes for you, too, if you’re sticking around. I’m offering you a room of your own to crash in. Whether you use it or not, that’s your business.”

Halee grinned. “I get it.” She turned back to Julie and Cindy, a question in her eyes. Julie met her gaze with a smile. Cindy tipped her a wink.

Nettie stood, extending a hand to her lover. Hannah took the proffered hand and rose gracefully to her feet. “Good night, all,” said Hannah as the two women made their way towards the master suite.

“Night,” Julie called out.

“Sleep well,” Cindy chimed in.

Giving Nettie’s ass cheek a squeeze through her jeans, Hannah tossed a grin back over her shoulder. “Oh, we will,” she replied. “In an hour or two.”

“Come on, you,” Nettie growled, practically dragging the redhead through the bedroom door and pushing it shut behind her.

Halee was sitting forward in her chair, hand resting on her Coke can, eyes fixed on the two women on the couch. Julie caressed Cindy’s cheek; Cindy’s fingers lightly trailed across the back of Julie’s neck. They seemed to have eyes only for each other, and Halee felt a twinge of uncertainty. It seemed only moments ago that an invitation had been given, but had she misread the signs?

Then Julie turned to her, a smile on her lips. Patting the vacant cushion to her left. “Um, Halee? You don’t have to sit all the way over there, you know.”

Confidence returning in a chest-loosening rush, Halee got to her feet and made her way across the room. She settled in next to Julie, boldly pressing her body against the older woman’s tall, lean frame, thrilling at her warmth. Her hand came to rest on the small of Julie’s back, bare millimeters above her ass.

Julie cupped Halee’s chin with her fingers, turning the girl’s face upwards to meet her gaze. “Is it really true you’re not a virgin, or were you just messing with your dad?” Her voice was low, husky, and intense.

“Oh, it’s true,” Halee replied, surprised at the unsteadiness in her own voice. “And I’m pretty sure he knows it, too.”

“Yeah,” Cindy breathed, reaching out to take Halee’s hand, which she clasped firmly. “I know Terry well enough to pick up on that. He knows damn well what’s gonna happen here tonight, and he told you straight out to have all the fun you want.”

“You guys don’t think it’s weird?” Halee’s fingers trailed downward to lightly caress the crack of Julie’s ass through her sundress, taking Cindy’s hand along for the ride. Julie shivered deliciously.

Cindy reached across Julie’s lap with her free hand, traced a finger lightly from the top of Halee’s knee and up her thigh. “Hon,” she said, “if you had any idea of the stuff we did at your age, and with who…”

The images that flashed through Halee’s mind were enough to push her into a frenzy of desire. Sliding her butt forward to the edge of the couch cushion and lying back, she grabbed the hand that was inching up her thigh and pulled it higher, a low moan escaping her throat.

She intended to place that hand on her mound, but Cindy stopped short just centimeters below the target, letting her finger gently tease the inside of Halee’s thigh. “Getting a little excited there, sweetie?”

Halee’s response was to thrust her hips forward, desperately trying to close the gap between those taunting fingers and the place she needed them to go. “I feel like I’m gonna come in my pants,” she moaned.

Julie grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Standing abruptly, Cindy bent down, slipping one arm behind Halee’s back, the other under her knees. She straightened, effortlessly hoisting the girl up along with her. Being cradled by the muscular young policewoman, the feel of that well-toned body against hers, heightened Halee’s arousal even further. A delicious shiver rippled through her.

“Wanna get that first door on the right, Julie?” Cindy intoned, her voice thick and husky. Julie was on her feet in an instant, scooting down the hall and fumbling with the doorknob in her excitement. Cindy was right behind her, arms full of trembling girl. Julie hit the light switch, illuminating a queen-sized bed against the far wall.

Cindy deposited Halee on the dark blue comforter, feet dangling off the end of the bed. Then Cindy plopped down beside the girl, nimbly undoing the button of Halee’s jeans as she caressed the teen’s bottom lip with the thumb of her free hand.

Halee captured that thumb between her teeth and flicked it with her tongue as Cindy pulled the zipper down, insinuating her fingertips beneath the elastic of the girl’s panties. Then Julie was there on Halee’s other side, hand delving beneath the fabric of her t-shirt, tracing the cleft of the navel, then moving upward to caress a budding breast, stroking a taut nipple with teasing fingertips.

Halee threw her head back, dislodging Cindy’s thumb from her mouth. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “Please!”

“Gonna come in your pants, are you?” Cindy whispered, her mouth now close to Halee’s ear. Julie leaned in from the other side, barely parted lips tracing the jawline, moving lower to nuzzle her neck.

Just when Halee thought she was going to lose her mind, Cindy’s fingers traversed the last couple of inches to the girl’s aching cunt. “Girl, you are dripping,” she breathed as she slid her fingers between the gooey folds.

Halee gasped, thrusting her hips upward as Cindy’s middle finger brushed her clit. “Oh, my god…” She was cut off as Julie’s mouth captured hers.

Cindy went to work, her fingers moving furiously. The effect was immediate and powerful, and Halee knew it would all be over for her in a minute or two. She twisted her head to the right, breaking off her kiss with Julie in order to draw in a great gulp of air, an instant before a jolt of pleasure made itself felt.

“Oh, God!” she cried. “OH! Oh my—” Her words trailed off in a shuddering gasp. Julie’s lips closed over her ear, nibbling it gently, then moving lower to graze the neck with delicate little love bites. Cindy slid her hand lower, easing the middle finger into Halee’s dripping hole, just up to the second knuckle.

The next wave of pleasure was so intense Halee almost passed out, and another followed right on its heels. This wasn’t going to be an orgasm, it was going to be a nuclear explosion.

“Oh, holy God!” the girl wailed. “Oh Jesus, I’m g-gonna… OH!”

“Come in your pants?” Cindy breathed. “Sounds good… come for me…”

That’s when it hit. Halee thrashed helplessly, tiny gasps escaping her mouth. It was almost too much to take, fireworks showering from her core in a dazzling display that practically overloaded her pleasure centers. Julie was nuzzling her neck like a hungry wildcat, Cindy’s hand moving in time with the wild thrusts of Halee’s pelvis.

Finally, after a small eternity of purest rapture, her climax began to subside. Halee was gulping desperately for air, almost sobbing. Her sex grew too tender to touch, and she tugged on Cindy’s arm, pulling the hand up and out of her sodden panties.

Julie’s mouth found hers again. Halee met her with enthusiasm and lots of tongue, giving the kiss serious attention this time. Cindy leaned in, nuzzling her jawline. “You really did come in your pants, didn’t you?” she mouthed into the girl’s ear.

Julie came up for air grinning, her face flushed. “Wow, did she ever!”

Halee placed a hand on the back of Cindy’s head, pulling her in to crush their mouths together. Cindy kissed her back with a desperate hunger, then pulled away, her breath ragged. “Okay,” she mouthed, “I’m gonna come in my pants if something doesn’t happen here.”

Halee didn’t need to be told twice. Gripping both sides of the t-shirt that read Franklin County Sheriff’s Department, she tugged it suggestively. Cindy obligingly raised her arms, allowing the girl to pull it over her head and off. Halee flung the shirt across the room, then reached behind Cindy’s back, deftly unclasping the strap of her bra and letting it fall into the policewoman’s lap. Cindy plucked the bra up and cast it to the floor with a flick of the wrist.

For a moment, Halee could only stare, feasting her eyes on Cindy’s generous breasts before burying her face between them. Her tongue emerged to lick as she reached out to tweak and caress two very stiff nipples. Cindy let out a long, low, moan that evolved into a growl.

As Halee began kissing her way down Cindy’s firm, flat belly, hands never ceasing to caress and knead the supple flesh of the luscious tits, Julie moved in to engage her old friend’s mouth in an impassioned kiss.

Releasing her hold on those glorious breasts, Halee blindly reached for the waist of Cindy’s jeans, fumbling a little as she worked the button loose. Cindy lifted her butt, and Halee wriggled her pants off, taking the panties along for the ride.

Cindy swung both legs up onto the bed and spread them apart, putting her delicious nudity on full display. Julie stretched out alongside, taking a nipple into her mouth. Cindy let out one of those low, lusty moans again, hips churning to a rhythm only she could hear.

Gripping a smooth, well-muscled calf in each hand, Halee settled down between them. Her fingers trailed up over the top of Cindy’s knees, then teased the inside of her thighs. Finally she swooped in like a hawk, her open mouth covering the smooth-shaven mound, her tongue caressing the hot, dripping flesh beneath.

“Oh, honey,” moaned Cindy, “you really do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

Halee glanced up to take in in the two older women smiling down at her, lust in their eyes. She flashed them a wicked grin. “Bet your ass I do.”

She returned to kissing and nuzzling Cindy’s mound, exploring its every nook and cranny with an eager tongue. Cindy’s hip motions were becoming more frantic, her breath shorter and increasingly ragged. Halee was dimly aware of Julie going back to work on those full, ripe tits. She brought her right hand into play, trailing a finger through Cindy’s folds, teasing the dripping entrance.

“Oh, God, just fuck me,” Cindy moaned.

Happy to oblige, Halee slid a finger inside, quickly following it up with another. She reveled in the gooey warmth of Cindy’s cunt, feeling her own heat rise again at the slick, wet sounds of vaginal penetration, enhanced by the rich scent of arousal.

She took a moment to enjoy the view of Cindy’s gorgeous pussy, with its prominent inner labia and protruding clitoral hood. The glistening moisture coated her fingers like warm honey as she withdrew them, then abruptly thrust them back in.

“Oh, holy shit!” Cindy got out, her voice rising to a squeal on that last word. With that, Halee settled in for a wild ride, planting her tongue right on that needy clit. She wasted no time, licking the swollen nub in a rapid back and forth motion that elicited an instant, rapturous response. Cindy was moaning with every breath, wildly thrusting her hips. Halee rode with it effortlessly. Then those moans were muffled, and Halee glanced up to see Julie and Cindy kissing again. At some point Julie’s sundress had disappeared, and Cindy’s hands were clumsily playing across Julie’s smaller but perfectly formed breasts.

Suddenly Cindy thrust her hips up from the bed, thighs clenching Halee’s head. Halee couldn’t have extricated herself even had she wanted to, so she kept licking as if her life depended on it. The woman’s vaginal muscles clenched and released, clenched and released against her buried fingers. With an enormous gasp, Cindy broke her kiss with Julie, her head thrashing from side to side as she drew in short, sharp intakes of breath. Then she went limp.

Halee crawled up to collapse next to Cindy, throwing an arm across the blonde woman’s body, resting her head on those amazing tits and closing her eyes. Her own breath was ragged and shallow; she’d come herself only minutes earlier, yet she was ready to go again!

She gradually became aware of hard, hissing breath that wasn’t hers. Oh, yeah – Julie. No one’s gotten her off yet. Better do something about that. Her energy renewed, Halee struggled into a sitting position.

But Julie was already being taken care of. Opening her eyes and lifting her head, Halee was treated to the sight of the now-naked woman on her knees, legs wide, furiously rubbing her own clit as Cindy finger-fucked her from below. Julie’s mouth hung slack, lips quivering. Her breath hitched and tore. Sweat beaded her forehead.

Halee got up on her knees, noting that she was the only one still wearing any clothes at all. That was okay—she didn’t really want to take her shirt off anyway. She had grown self-conscious about her scars.

Leaning forward across Cindy’s voluptuous body, Halee briefly captured Julie’s trembling lower lip between hers, caressing it with a stroke of the tongue. She drifted lower, nuzzling and nibbling the line of the jaw, then turned her head to the side, raining kisses across the woman’s neck. Hardly conscious of the act, Halee slid a hand into her own panties, engaging her clit, shuddering and moaning as the first wave of pleasure made itself felt.

She was nibbling Julie’s earlobe when the dark-haired lady suddenly wrapped her free arm around Halee’s head, pulling their cheeks tightly together. Julie’s ragged breath had turned to soft moans, which grew shorter and high-pitched as she fell over the precipice into the sweet void of orgasm.

Julie’s spasms carried Halee along for the ride, the teen inhaling in explosive gasps as she rode the wave of her second climax of the evening.

Finally spent, the two of them collapsed almost simultaneously, one on either side of Cindy. As the panting lovers nestled in beside her, the blond policewoman gave Halee a sidelong glance. “Is that twice now you’ve come in your pants tonight?” she said, a feral grin on her lips. “Maybe you should think about taking ‘em off.”

***

Nettie all but dragged Hannah into her bedroom, slamming the door behind them. The lithe redhead was both delighted and bemused. She was finally at Nettie’s house, the two of them in her bedroom.

Hannah was almost overcome with excitement, but there was a nagging undertone that interfered with her pleasure. The conversation about Nettie’s time in Dickson as a child was chewing at the back of her mind, demanding just a little bit of houseroom for consideration.

Nettie had never mentioned any kind of childhood trauma, and you didn’t have to be very bright to pick up on the ripple of discomfort that had flowed through the room at the mention of it. There was something unexplained here, something that all her senses told her she very much needed to know about.

As Nettie pressed her against the door, engaging her lips and tongue in a heated kiss, Hannah thrust that annoying little voice aside, at least for the time being. Her cunt was on fire, throbbing with a deep-banked intensity that couldn’t be ignored. Looping her hands around Nettie’s neck, she met the kiss with enthusiasm.

Nettie’s hands were scrabbling with the button of Hannah’s jeans. Her frenzy was infectious, and Hannah found herself suddenly overcome with impatience, her need too great to be contained. Pushing the clumsy fingers aside, she undid her own pants and shoved them down with a single thrust. Nettie was frantically unbuttoning herself, her breath hissing through gritted teeth.

Moments later their bodies crashed down upon the bed, the petite redhead atop her lover’s tall, muscled frame, faces buried between thighs in a delicious sixty-nine. Neither had bothered to remove her shirt.

Hannah came first, lifting her head long enough to let out a keening wail. Then she re-engaged, licking her partner’s clit at blinding speed. It took Nettie only another thirty seconds or so before her orgasm kicked in.

***

Heather comes awake all at once, thrashing hard against a hand clamped firmly over her mouth, and a muscular arm pinning her body to the bed.

“Stop struggling.” The whisper is harsh in her ear. A face looms large before hers, features she can barely make out in the darkness. The shades are drawn against the moonlight. There’s menace behind that voice, and Heather feels what little fight she has evaporate into nothing as cold fear envelops her. She goes limp.

“Good girl. Now, I’m going to take my hand away. If you scream, if you move without my say-so, if you do anything I don’t tell you to do first, I’ll cut your kid sister with the big-ass knife that’s in my other hand. She already knows—don’t you?” The shadowy head jerks in the direction of the back corner of the room, and Heather can just make out Gina, hunkered down against the wall. The cowering shape begins to whimper softly.

“We have some walking to do,” the guttural voice informs her, just barely above a whisper. “So you’re gonna get your shoes on, and you’re gonna be quiet while you’re doing it. Off the bed, now. Let’s go.”

***

Mallory Kalvornek cautiously descended the stairs, amused at her own pointless attempts to step quietly on the ancient hardwood. The place was bigger and nicer than the house she’d been raised in, and the stairs correspondingly wider, but they were steeper than modern construction, and creaky as a two-dollar violin. Even a small person like herself couldn’t sneak around in a house like this.

She was wearing a bathrobe, a distinctly feminine-looking one that had been hanging from a hook on the door to Terry Wilder’s closet. It was much too long, the back of it brushing the steps as she made her way to the ground floor, and she found herself wondering if it belonged to Nettie. Always sensitive to personal cues, Mallory had picked up within minutes that Terry and Nettie had some kind of history. Fairly recent history, if she was any judge.

Reaching the ground floor, she glanced around to orient herself. Terry had mentioned before drifting off that the bathroom was down the hall and to the right, so she made off in that direction.

She found the bathroom easily enough, took care of her business, then emerged into the hallway. She and Terry had gone straight upstairs from the foyer, so she had yet to take the tour. The hallway spilled her out into a dining nook, with the living room just beyond. To her right she could see another, narrower staircase, and to her left the kitchen was visible through a red-brick archway. Classy, in an old-fashioned rural American sort of way.

She paused there for a moment, taking it in, then traversed the creaky old floor, passing a family-sized dining table and taking the single step up into the living room. There was a substantial stereo system against the opposite wall, and Mallory padded across the room to it, looking it over with admiration and a touch of envy. She’d become an audiophile as a child under the tutelage of her older friend Jamie, and as she and Julie’s combined income had grown, she’d indulged accordingly—but this stuff was a couple of levels above anything she’d be likely to afford anytime soon.

Terry was a mystery to her. On the surface he was garrulous, well-spoken, and unfailingly cheerful, exactly as Nettie had described him… but she sensed an undercurrent of turmoil there, and wondered at its source. Mallory was not a gregarious person, but she possessed a sixth sense about others that rarely steered her wrong. Terry had fucked up her radar right from the word go.

Of course, the man had recently undergone a major ordeal, seeing his daughter shot in the chest and then becoming a captive himself, all at the hands of his ex-wife. But she’d met him a week or two before those things had happened, at the funeral for Nettie’s father, and sensed it then, too.

Here you go again, Mallory-girl. How come on those rare occasions you encounter a man you want to sleep with, it’s always someone who’s got demons running around loose in his head? She chuckled, managing to startle herself at how loud it sounded to her ears.

It occurred to her that she wasn’t exactly sure how to get back to Terry’s bedroom. The place was huge, and she’d never been that great with spatial orientation to begin with. Her colleagues liked to joke that she was the only professor who could get lost trying to find her own office.

Demons or no, one thing was for sure: Terry WIlder knew how to fuck. Her cheeks warmed slightly as she thought back over the past hour or so, at the playfulness and passion of his foreplay and the raw intensity of his lovemaking.

Her attention shifted to his music collection. Racks of CDs affixed to the walls, shelves filled with records below. There certainly was a great deal of it, and it appeared to be entirely made up of classical titles. Fingers lightly brushing the record sleeves, she found herself impressed by the scope of his interests. Alongside the usual suspects, the Mozarts and Chopins and Bachs, was also a half dozen or so Salieri titles, some Buxtehude, and what looked like a complete collection of Fernando Sor. She was pleased to know that his interest in her upcoming album was most likely genuine, not induced by a desire to get inside her unmentionables.

Hearing footsteps on the narrow staircase leading into the dining area, Mallory swiveled her head in time to see Terry emerge, wearing sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, his shoulder-length hair somewhat mussed for once. He paused, looked left then right, gave her a small wave, and retreated down the hall to the bathroom. She turned her attention back to his collection, not really looking this time, waiting for him to emerge. The door opened, footsteps approached, and then Terry was behind her, hands on her waist.

He nuzzled her hair, planting a soft kiss on the back of her head. “Find anything you like?”

She turned to face him, craning her neck to look up into his eyes. Her lips twitched in a smile. “Nice collection. There’s stuff in there I don’t even have, and I play this sort of music for a living.”

Terry stepped to her side, gently turning her by the arm to face the shelves full of vinyl. “The greatest musical minds of the western world, captured on wax and contained in a small corner of my living room. I built this collection piece by piece, and standing here looking, even I find it impressive.”

Giggling, she nudged him in the side. “The whole damn house is impressive. How many square feet?”

“Six thousand, give or take.”

Mallory let out a low whistle, then gave him a sidelong glance. He didn’t seem terribly talkative, and although their acquaintance had been brief, it struck her as being out of character. Unfortunately, while she was good at reading people, drawing them out was not amongst her strong suits.

It dawned on her to get him sitting down and chatting. “Say, can a girl get anything to drink around here?”

Terry smirked. “Are we contemplating something to drink, or did you have fruit juice in mind?”

A laugh escaped her. “How about fruit juice with something to drink in it?”

The smirk became a full-blown smile. “I think that can be arranged. Would a screwdriver be sufficient, or do you require something a bit more refined?”

She grinned back. “You figure I’m a girl and a college professor, so I’ll only drink stuff with little umbrellas sticking out of the top?”

Terry pursed his lips. “I try not to make assumptions,” he said, a teasing note in his voice, “but it seems that every college professor I know—and I do know a few—only drinks coffee if a single cup costs at least five dollars and is full to bursting with caramel, chocolate, and Cool Whip. Their taste in alcohol tends to be remarkably similar.”

Mallory turned to face him, challenge in her eyes and a smile on her lips. “When you get up early to make my coffee in the morning, I’ll have you know that it needs to be black and strong. And in a non-disposable cup.”

A delighted grin on his face, Terry leaned in, placing a kiss on her half-open mouth. “Aren’t we the presumptuous one. Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll only be a moment.” He strode off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh, and by the by,” she called to his retreating back, deliberately tossing out a turn of phrase she’d heard him use earlier in the evening, “only barbarians put Cool Whip on their foo-foo drinks. Whole dairy toppings are the choice of sophisticates everywhere.” Terry let out a guffaw, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Still smiling, Mallory crossed to the sofa, settling herself against the left arm and curling her legs under her. She could hear the fridge open, and the clink of glass. Then his returning footsteps behind her. He handed her the drink en passant, holding one for himself in the other hand.

Her eyebrows raised. “Thought you were a whiskey man.”

Terry settled onto the cushion next to her. “Since I’m drinking with a sophisticate from the mighty American university system, I thought it perhaps better to try a little cultural elevation. Cheers.” He raised his glass. She touched it with her own, then sipped. And raised her eyebrows—it was a strong screwdriver. The vodka warmed her throat as she swallowed.

“You know,” she pointed out, “we’ve already had sex. Do you really feel the need to get me drunk?”

“I have to think the alcohol from earlier in the evening has worn off,” Terry replied with an air of nonchalance. “Given that any woman who is both intelligent and sober is unlikely to share my bed, it seemed prudent to impair your judgment sufficiently for a second round to be negotiable.”

Mallory couldn’t help but laugh again. “Wonder how things are going back at Nettie’s.”

Terry shrugged. “If there’s a god in the heavens, roughly the same way they went here.”

“I’ll drink to that.” This time Mallory raised her glass, and Terry clicked his to hers. They both drank.

“Speaking of Nettie,” Terry said, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow, “I didn’t realize till today that the two of you had childhood history.”

“About a year’s worth,” she replied, taking another sip. “We’ve kept in touch, but I can’t say we’re particularly close anymore. How long have you known her?”

“A little over three years. She conducted a skills training session when I was gearing up to take my EMT psychomotor exam. That was roughly a year after I moved to town. I was the only one to show up, and we became friends.”

Mallory pursed her lips. “More than friends.” It wasn’t a question.

Terry shrugged. “On and off, until recently. But rest assured, the ‘more than friends’ part is now quite firmly in the rear-view mirror.”

“By your choice, not hers.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re quite the perceptive one, aren’t you?”

“On and off.”

He sipped at his drink. “Nettie is my closest friend, and I love her dearly. But if I were to tell you she can be a difficult person to maintain a relationship with, I doubt I’d be saying anything you don’t already know. She’s not necessarily to blame for that, but it doesn’t change the fact.”

Mallory nodded, taking a swig of her own. She could feel her buzz returning, and was surprised to discover she’d already polished off half the glass. “There are—well—issues. From when she was a kid. I’m not sure how much I should say, because I’m not sure how much you already know.”

“If you’re referring to her sister’s death, and both her parents’ subsequent institutionalization, of course I know.”

“I wasn’t sure. She hasn’t always been particularly forthcoming about it.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say I found out from her. I know because I’ve lived here for four years, I’m fairly active in community affairs, and it’s a damn small town. Hell, I even know where her sister is buried; it’s in the same boneyard where we planted her dad a couple of months back. But never once has she breathed a word about it to me.”

Mallory tossed back the rest of her drink in a gulp, feeling more than a little ashamed of herself. She’d fretted about Nettle off and on down through the years, but now she wondered if she should have worried more. Damn it, Mallory-girl—you really should have done a better job keeping in touch.

Terry regarded her empty glass with raised eyebrows. His was still three-quarters full. “Another?” he ventured.

Raising an eyebrow, Mallory gave a low chuckle. “Ha—no way. I’m onto your game now.”

“Dammit,” said Terry. “All my elaborately-laid plans, reduced to nothing.” They both laughed, but sobered quickly.

Mallory shook her head. “That doesn’t worry you—I mean, that you’ve known her all this time and something this fundamental has never come up?”

Terry drew in a long breath, then blew it out slowly. For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to answer. “I do worry about her,” he said at last. “Quite a bit, actually. She has terrible nightmares—I mean, the kind of shit where you soak the sheets with sweat and scream in your sleep. And we’ve shared a bed often enough for me to have noticed a direct correlation between the frequency of the nightmares, how actively she pushes people away, and her drinking habits.”

He hesitated, took another sip from his glass. “I know, because I’ve been told by others, that when her parents went off the deep end following Annamarie’s death, Nettie got shipped out for a year or thereabouts to live with relatives. I didn’t know until tonight that it was Julie’s family she stayed with. I imagine you must have known her pretty well.”

“Yeah.” Furious with herself, Mallory felt tears lurking close to the surface. She plucked the drink from his hand, took a sip, and forced a grin as she handed it back to him. “You’re obviously having trouble finishing that. Thought I’d help.”

“My gratitude knows no bounds.”

“Anyway—yeah. It was either late January or early February when I was in the sixth grade; I remember that because we had the first rehearsal of the band that became 80 Proof when Nettie and Anna were still missing. Nettie came down to stay with Julie’s family a week or two after the funeral. My parents had just split up, Mom was starting tech school, Julie and I were already a couple—I was spending as much time at their house as anywhere else. Nettie was really messed up when she first got there, and it took months for things to get even a little bit better. She moved back in with her mom right around Christmas, if I remember right.”

“It’s amazing that it got better at all,” Terry remarked, stroking his chin. “She’s done remarkably well, all things considered.”

“But it’s not over for her, is it?” Mallory felt a single tear spill out of each eye, powerless to stop them. “Dammit.” she dashed them angrily away with the back of her hand. Terry laid a hand on her forearm, plucking Kleenex from a box on the coffee table with the other.

Taking the tissue gratefully, she dried her eyes, then found her voice again. “It’s still sabotaging her relationships, from what you’re telling me. It’s still messing up her sleep. I think maybe the scariest thing is that she still keeps it inside. I’m pretty sure Hannah doesn’t know. Did you see her expression when Nettie living in Dickson for a year came up?”

Terry nodded. “Indeed I did. I have a feeling our lovely lady doctor is going to have a question or three over the next few days. I hope to god Nettie doesn’t fuck that up. I like Hannah, and I think they’re really good for each other.”

“Yeah.” Mallory turned her gaze to the ceiling as more tears gathered beneath her eyelids.

She felt another light touch on her arm. “You okay?” he inquired gently.

“I feel a little bit responsible. Julie and I—we did try to keep up with Nettie at first. But you never knew when you were going to hear back from her, so we kind of started letting it slide. Then we both went into demanding fields of study—you know how it is. I feel like we should have done more.” She sniffled, but managed to hold the tears back. Barely.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” said Terry. “You were separated by distance, and an ever-increasing span of time. There’s a limit to what can be accomplished under those circumstances.”

Sniffling again, she gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Here,” he said, pressing what was left of his screwdriver into her hand. “You look like you need it more than I do. Besides, you were right—I lack the sophistication for this stuff.”

Despite everything, Mallory had to smile. “I thought I told you this trick wasn’t going to work.”

He chuckled. “No trick. It would be rather unseemly to attempt seduction under the present circumstances, don’t you think? After you’ve polished that off—or dumped it down the sink, your choice—we’ll go to bed, where we need do nothing more than sleep.”

Snatching another Kleenex from the box, Mallory blew her nose. She tossed back the remainder of Terry’s drink in one gulp, set the glass down on the coffee table with a satisfying clunk, then looked up at him, wearing a grin.

“Fuck that,” she said, loosening the sash of the bathrobe in what she hoped was an alluring gesture. “I need something to take my mind off all this. Got any ideas?”

Terry’s eyebrows buried themselves in his hairline. “Oh—I might be able to think of a thing or two.”

***

Two terrified girls are herded through the seldom-used back door of their ramshackle trailer. Make that never-used; there aren’t even any steps attached. Theirs is a corner lot, and this secondary door leads to a side yard only about ten feet from the trees, so their movement is largely shielded from prying eyes. Heather hesitates at the precipice, and receives a sharp blow to the back of the head. Whimpering, she jumps to the ground, loses her footing, and tumbles headlong onto the grass. Gina drops to the ground next to her, landing with somewhat more grace.

Then he is beside them, bending down to jerk Heather to her feet. Gina huddles against her, clutching at her pajamas, face tracked with tears. Rough hands separate them, that harsh whisper grates once again on their ears. “Into the trees. Move.”

On to Chapter Four!

Introduction from JetBoy: Connoisseurs of erotic lesbian fiction should need no introduction to the sweet, savory tales of Louisa May. More than anyone, she filled me with the hunger to write sex stories of my own. She withdrew from the scene years ago, but came back in a big way in 2021 with a sizzling new work, “Sasha’s Counsel.”  Well, Louisa has even more to say, and in that spirit she has gifted us with a delightful new story.

Here it is, you lucky people. Hope you get as much pleasure out of reading it as I derived from editing it.

By Louisa May

Thanks to JetBoy for his indispensable contributions to this story. He has afforded me the indescribable luxury of being understood.

***

It was Didi’s birthday — her little girl, twelve years old! Valerie Viteri had prepared a suitably impressive celebration for her daughter.

Red velvet birthday cake… Check!

The entire first season of the hot new HBO series, Game of Thrones, which she’d had put on hold for her daughter at the library. Up to then, she’d deemed the program too full of sex and violence for someone Didi’s age to watch. But now that she was twelve (how did that happen?) Valerie had decided to allow it, as long as Didi was watching it along with her… Check!

A six pack of beer that, on an affectionate whim, she also decided to allow  – again, as long as it was to be drunk with her mother. As it was a Friday night, and Didi’s birthday was September 12, and she was twelve, Valerie simply couldn’t resist when she spied, in the Craft Beer section, a brew called “Twelve is Awesome!” What she didn’t know was the fact that the “twelve” in the beer’s name referred to its rather steep alcohol content: 12 percent. Which may have had something to do with the unusual events that transpired later on…  Check!

It was the last day of the first week back at school. Still summer, really, and a hot day — but also Friday afternoon, the doorway to two days of glorious freedom! And an extra jolt of freedom for Didi, because her mom had hinted at birthday surprises. “We might very well have our very own little party when we get home,” she’d said with arched eyebrows. For both Didi and her mother attended the same school — Valerie as an administrator in the principal’s office, Didi as a brand-new seventh-grader.

Sure enough, when at 5:00 PM that afternoon, they’d finally arrived home — Didi was pleased and surprised to encounter streamers, banners, balloons…

She turned to her mom, who was grinning at her. “When did you get time to do all this?”

Valerie waggled a finger at her. “Who said I did it?” She smiled wickedly, then kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I dashed home during lunch, silly.”

Didi’s eyes were wide, her tongue pushing against her inner cheek, a grin winning out. “It’s… amazing!”

“Awww,” Valerie blushed, then wrapped both arms around Didi, pressing the girl to her chest.

Didi felt the warm sponginess of her mother’s breast resting against her cheek. Then Mom kissed the top of her head, and she was released. “Happy Birthday, my little lady.”

Didi blushed. “Not so little.”

Valerie grinned as she turned and headed for her bedroom. “No, not so little,” she said over her shoulder, “and getting bigger all the time! Let me get out of these clothes, then we can have your birthday dinner!”

In her bedroom, Valerie removed her earrings. No, not so little, she thought.

Didi really was becoming her ‘little lady.’ Her girlish body was just starting to fill out. And she did have her mother’s mouth, those full, sensuous lips. And the high cheekbones. But then there was that golden-red hair (that Didi always insisted be put in pigtails), her bronze skin tone, those amazingly green Irish eyes. Those freckles. Those dimples! More and more like Brian every day.

Brian… has it really been ten years?

Valerie remembered feeling so safe in her little life as a mom, so secure. Her husband was a brand-new corporate attorney, while she’d recently given up her career as a Broadway chorus dancer, idly daydreaming about perhaps doing a bit of coaching here, a bit of substitute teaching there.

Then came their first real vacation together, when Brian had wanted to try hang-gliding… the almost hallucinatory moment when she’d been told of his death… then the panicky months afterwards, when she’d had to find out how to make her own way, to provide for her two-year-old daughter. How? With what skills? There were precious few openings for a thirty-two-year-old Broadway dancer — and besides, what would she do with Didi?

Valerie sent out a flurry of job applications, all emphasizing her pre-Broadway experience in theater administration. And, miraculously, managed to land the job she held now.

Shaking her head, she shucked the School Administrator’s outfit she was required to wear, with very little variation, every day: dark blazer (with perhaps a bit of color on holidays); button-front sleeved tops (white or blue); knee-length skirt (no pants — the schoolboys might be distracted by her ass); matchable flats; and yes — pantyhose (nude, naturally). When she’d first taken this position ten years ago, after over a decade as a professional dancer, Valerie’s reaction to this last requirement had been “Whaaat? Every day?!” Not aloud, of course… she’d needed the job desperately, and was beyond grateful to have it, especially since it meant a free education at an expensive private school for Didi. So, though Valerie much preferred the cool, smooth elasticity of tights, she resigned herself to living with the disadvantages of nylon hose – a few days of sweaty discomfort, as well as the occasional run. Years later, she’d grown accustomed to it.

As she stood at the bathroom sink removing her make-up, Valerie was, for the umpteenth time, struck by the generous heft of her breasts. She turned sideways. Dang. From just one kid? Twelve years ago? How on earth…?

She lifted them, then slowly trailed her hands outwards, squeezing along the way, pausing for a final tweak of the nips. Oooh. Yep, they grew, too. Like aliens. Now whenever she got even mildly excited (a rare event, these days), those alien nipples invariably betrayed her, becoming huge – almost visible through her blouse. Amazing. What used to be barely visible little pink nubs on her skinny dancer’s bod had grown into dark little fingertips at the ends of her breasts. From 32A to 34D. Who’d have thought it? She shook her head and continued her ablutions.

Didi, meanwhile, had gone to her own room and taken off her soccer gear — jersey and shorts into the hamper, cleats under the bed, shin guards flung into the corner. She stood in front of her door-length mirror, naked but for her panties, and raised both arms – she-man pose! Look at that! Red hair in cool pigtails, solid bod, sin-ew-y muscles (still somewhat hidden in baby fat, oh well). What’s gonna keep her from making first string?

She dropped her arms with a sigh. How could she be a she-man with these little bumps pushing their way out of her freckled chest? Can’t even call them boobs… She turned sideways. Yup, just tiny little bumps. Sticking out her rear end, she grabbed a cheek with each hand and squeezed, then studied the result. A little better — but still, not much. Nothing like Mom’s.

Just last week, Didi had run into her mother’s room to see if she knew where her favorite socks had got to — and was stunned to be presented with Mom’s naked bottom as she rummaged about in her lingerie drawer. Stunned, because she hadn’t realized how very… beautiful her figure was. Her bottom, especially.

Didi frowned at the mirror. Well… she wasn’t even five feet tall. And some girls teased her about her braces, saying dumb crap like, “Hi, Darla!” But soon! Soon, she’d show them her moves, how awesome she could be. She raised a fist and whispered, “Yeah!”

“Didi? You ready for dinner?”

“I’m coming!” She whipped on her favorite Steelers shirt, wriggled into long jammy pants, and hustled into the kitchen, where Valerie had a whole platter of hamburgers set in her place.

“Whoa! Is this…?” She picked up one and confirmed that yes, this was from her favorite burger joint. “YES!” Removing the wrapper, she took her first delicious bite. Valerie looked on, smiling.

After dinner, Valerie brought in the cake, singing. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to youuuuu…” Didi just grinned, closed her eyes and made a wish, blowing out the candles. Then Valerie cut thick slices of cake, which they ate with pleasure.

Afterwards, Valerie took the leftover cake to the kitchen. “Go ahead and relax on the couch. Maybe we’ll do something fun tonight.” She winked. “I don’t know.”

Once Didi was settled in, Valerie retrieved the Game of Thrones DVDs from her purse and brought them into the living room. “So.” She smiled at her daughter, aware that the girl was expecting something special. “I have a certain DVD here…”

But just as she was about to tell Didi what she’d bought, the lights went out. As did the air conditioning. As did everything.

“Well, that’s not good.” Valerie pressed the light switch near her. Nothing.

“Hmm…” She went to the window and looked out. There was no light anywhere in sight. “Oh, my.”

Didi cautiously made her way to the window at the other end of their apartment. “There’s no light out here, either.”

Valerie got her phone out and tried to call the electric company, but the line was busy. As she set the phone down, there was a knock at the door.

She opened it to a neighbor – George Phelps, from across the street. “You too?” she murmured.

“Hey, Val. Yeah, no power. Hell of a thing. We’re gonna walk down a few blocks, see if it’s out all over.”

“Good luck,” Valerie told him. They exchanged nods, and George set off.

Valerie tried phoning once more, but with no success. She looked up at Didi. “Wow. Some birthday, huh?” It was getting quite dark in the apartment.

“I know.” Didi seated herself on the couch with a sigh.

Determined to salvage what she could of their evening, Valerie went into action. “Okay. So. We make do. Right?”

Didi looked up at her mother – puzzled, but game. “Right?”

“Right.” Valerie started scrabbling in a bureau in the living room. “I know we have candles here somewhere. Aha – I knew it!” She took some tea candles from the drawer, then a pack of matches. Setting them out on the coffee table, she lit each one.

A glow soon enveloped the room as Valerie sat back to survey her handiwork. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”

Didi nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “We’re good to go.”

They decided to play Scrabble, which was the only game close at hand. “This’ll be fun, right?” Valerie said as she began to unpack the box.

Again, Didi nodded. “Sure, Mom. Um… what was that DVD you had?”

“Well, it was the first season of Game of Thrones. I was going to let you watch it with me – you know, as a birthday present.”

“Oooohhh!” Didi slumped in her seat. “God, what a cool surprise! And now, we don’t get to watch it! Stupid electricity,” she pouted.

Valerie frowned. “Ohh, I know. It sucks.”

“Oh… it’s not that bad, Mom. Really. Just hanging out with you, I like that too.”

That made Valerie smile. “Well…” She paused to tug at her sweatpants, which were beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. “That’s okay, then… if it’s okay with you, honeybunch. Seriously.” Reaching out, she cupped her daughter’s face in both hands. “Everything’s all right?”

“Seriously, Mom,” Didi murmured, amused by her mom’s earnestness, “it’s fine.”

Valerie gave her daughter a kiss on the nose. “Good!” Getting up, she went out to the kitchen to fetch a stool. Plunking it on the other side of the coffee table, she took her seat, rubbing both hands together. “Okay then, let’s do this!” And they began to draw their first sets of letters.

After a few minutes of play, Valerie raised a finger in the air. “Wait!… I have another birthday surprise, one I completely forgot!” She rose, then hurried into the kitchen. Coming back, she said, “I had this in the fridge, which is, of course, non-functional. Lucky for us, these are still cold.” She placed two bottles on the table. “Drink up!”

Didi was floored. “Beer?” She picked up one of the bottles, gazing at it in disbelief.

Valerie grinned at her. “Yep. Hey, you only turn twelve once, right?” Taking a beer for herself, she showed her daughter the label. “See?”

Didi stared at the bottle and grinned back. “Twelve is Awesome? Totally!”

Unscrewing the top, Valerie held out her bottle. “To being twelve. Years. Old!”

“Yes!” Didi cheered. They clinked bottles, then took deep swallows. Savoring the taste, Didi smacked her lips. “Cool!”

Valerie nodded. “Right?”

Didi concurred. “Right!”

Sipping their beers, they continued Scrabbling, trying to ignore the heat. The temperature had yet to drop, and the lack of air conditioning was really making itself felt.

After a while, Valerie started fanning herself. “Whew! Man, is it hot! You don’t realize how important the AC is until it’s not working, you know?” She took off her sweater.

Didi noticed right away that the t-shirt her mom had underneath the sweater was already a bit sweat-soaked — and that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Valerie plucked restlessly at the front of her shirt for another minute or so, then abruptly stood up. “Yuck! Okay, that’s all I can take. I have to, to, get more comfortable.” Giving Didi a sheepish smile, she added, “I mean, normally I wouldn’t do this…” She began to peel her sweatpants off. “But this is an emergency situation!” Stepping out of the sodden sweats, she threw them in the direction of her room. Shaking her legs, she muttered, “Ugh, so sweaty!” then stood before Didi in her t-shirt and panties, spreading her hands in a gesture of self-display. “This okay?”

Didi shrugged. “Yeah, whatever.” Actually, the sight of Mom undressing was something that interested her quite a lot, but she thought it best not to let that interest show. It was pretty warm, though – her own jammy pants, being polar fleece, were getting increasingly hot and sweaty inside.

Valerie pointed at her daughter. “What about you, kiddo?” she chuckled. “I can’t be the only one hanging out in my underwear.”

“No,” Didi agreed. She held up a finger. “But, um, I’m not wearing underpants, so I’m gonna go get some!” With that, she jumped up and ran to her room.

Valerie called after her. “You’re actually supposed to wear something under those!” Sitting back on her stool, she took a long swig of beer. She burped, then muttered to herself, “Then I wouldn’t have to wash them so often.”

Didi came back wearing a Minions T-shirt and Monsters Inc. boxer shorts. Valerie had to smile. “Look at you, Cartoon Girl.”

Didi looked down at herself. “Yep. Big ones,” pointing to her boxers, then to her chest, “and little ones.” She looked up and blushed. “I mean, you know, the Minions. Little.” And she flopped onto the couch.

Valerie giggled. “I know what you meant.” To ease her discomfiture, she leaned forward and tapped the Scrabble board. “Your turn, baby.”

Didi leaned into the board, carefully studied her tiles, then quickly placed a row of them on the board.

Valerie spelled the word out as it appeared. “B-R-I-S-T-L-E.”

Didi nodded. “Bristle.”

“Wo-o-w…” Valerie murmured, frowning. “Excellent.”

Didi grinned. “Well, I thought so.”

“You almost used all your letters.”

“I know.” She looked at the board. “If only I had a ‘D’ or an ‘S’. But I don’t.”

“Still. ‘Bristle’, that’s pretty impressive.” Valerie wrote down her score, then suddenly looked up. “Oh, my God, I forgot to tell you — you know Ashley Bristol, right?”

“Umm, yeah…”

“Well.” Valerie scooted her chair in closer. “She — and the other Ashley–”

“Which other Ashley?” Didi said, frowning. “There are like eight of them, I think– “

“You know, they hang out together, always chewing gum… oh, Ashley Hernandez!”

“Oh, right. The slutty one.”

Valerie laughed. “They both are!”

Didi took a swig of beer. “That’s true.” She burped.

“Excuse you!”

“’Scuse me.”

“It’s okay, I burped too.” Valerie took a pull from her bottle.

Didi couldn’t keep herself from staring at those incredible boobs when Mom tilted her head back. It’s like they’re alive… God, she’s so perfect, so totally awesome…

Anyway…” She noticed her daughter’s stare. “What, did I spill some?” She checked her chest, then looked back up at Didi. “Ohh…” She grinned; wagged a finger. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, no peeking.” She looked back down at herself. “They are pretty great, though, I know.” She studied Didi’s chest thoughtfully. “You’re coming along rather nicely yourself, I see.” She burped. “Whoops. ‘Scuse me.”

Didi blushed, and smiled. “You’re excused.”

Valerie took a little bow. “Thank you.” She looked at the Scrabble board. “What was I saying…? Oh, the Ashley girls! Okay, so they were both in the office, right? ‘Cause your art teacher, Betsy Duval, said they were dressed inappropriately, don’t you know.”

Didi made a face. “Mrs. Duval…”

“I know, she’s such a pill, isn’t she? I mean, she makes this big deal of being this groovy old hippie chick, with her hair in these endless braids –”

“Those long dresses…” Didi made a face.

“Right? Those long, flowing hippie skirts she always wears, and her really mellow voice, like,” she began to speak in a low, breathy register “‘Oh, Val, darling, Val, you look like that actress, darling, you know, The Abyss? Perfect Storm? Oh, you know who I mean… Scarface? Anyway — could you be a doll and run these forms for me. I am such a spaz with all these, these numbers. It’s my artistic mind, you know… there’s absolutely no side of my brain good for anything else. Thank youuuuu!’ And off she’d float, like some big, red-haired llama or something.”

Valerie was sitting with her legs kind of spread out on the stool. Didi thought she detected a few dark hairs peeking out of her mother’s underwear – but was especially careful not to stare, so Mom wouldn’t catch her looking again. “So,” she prompted, “the Ashleys…?”

“YES,” Valerie continued, giving her head a quick shake as if to clear it. “So, they were dressed pretty slutty. Like, tiny skirts that went right up to their, their –”

“Their cootchies?”

“Diana Viteri!” Valerie gasped, then she chuckled. “I was about to say, their crotches. Or privates?”

“That’s so weird,” Didi said. “It’s like, why is it called ‘privates’ anyhow? I mean, especially for those girls… they might as well call it their ‘publics.’

Val laughed. “Their ‘pubic publics!’” She drained her beer, then held up the empty. “Well, this one’s cashed. Think I’ll have another. How ‘bout you?”

Taking her last swallow, Didi handed her mother the bottle. “Sure.”

“Okay…” Valerie rose from the stool, swaying slightly. “Woo.” She paused for a moment, savoring the mood. “This is very good beer.”

Didi watched her head to the kitchen. Mum’s t-shirt wasn’t quite long enough to cover everything, so the twelve-year-old got a good look at her full, womanly bottom, which looked especially nice in the skimpy panties she wore.

Relaxing back into the couch, Didi gave a contented sigh. Even if we don’t get to watch Game of Thrones, this is turning out to be a really cool birthday. Kind of weird, but cool.

She’d begun to notice a certain… dampness in her boxer shorts, a squishy feeling she had down there. It was probably because of getting to see her mom so open, so visible to her. Usually, she was so buttoned up, only undressing behind closed doors.

Valerie came back with two bottles. “Here ya go,” she said, handing one to Didi. She glanced around the room. “Hey, these candles are gettin’ low. They’re too small for this kind of thing, really. Hmm, let’s see…” She continued to look about. “Now, where are they… ?” Padding over to the bureau, Valerie opened a drawer, peering inside. “No…” Opening one further down, she exclaimed, “A-ha!”

As Valerie bent down to dig through the lower drawer. Didi was transfixed. Mom’s t-shirt had hiked its way up so that her bottom, the panties askew and one cheek almost fully uncovered, was now quite open to view.

Didi felt a warm pulsing in her missy. Then as her mom continued to rummage, she noticed a darker area in the middle, where the underwear had slipped. Was that… her butthole? Suddenly, Didi could barely breathe.

Valerie arose, holding two large candles in glass containers. “I knew I had these somewhere!” Her smile at Didi turned to a look of concern. “Are you okay, honey? You look kinda flushed.” Setting down the candles, she put a hand to her daughter’s forehead.

Didi swallowed. “No, I’m… it’s fine. I just got hot for a second.”

“Hmmm… maybe we’ve had enough beer for one night…”

“No!” Didi exclaimed, shaking her head. She smiled up at her mother. “I like it. I just felt a little warm right then. I’m fine.” She gently took her mother’s hand away from her face. “Really.” She held up her bottle. “This is an awesome birthday beer.”

Valerie grinned. “Right?” They clinked bottles and drank.

“Ahh!” Didi smacked her lips, then surreptitiously plucked at the crotch of her boxers. Jeez, she was really warm down there. “So, um, you were saying something about the two Ashleys…?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m being so spacy tonight! Okay, SO. They were both like, calling each other sluts, and they actually started fighting, I mean physically fighting, right down on the floor –”

“In those short little skirts…”

“Yes, in those little skirts, flashing their panties for the whole world to see–”

“I made out with Ashley Bristol, you know,” Didi tossed it off casually, followed by a sip of beer.

Valerie froze in mid-motion, the bottle halfway to her mouth. “WHAT?”

“Yup.”

“You made out with Ashley Bristol? When did this happen?”

“It was at the country club. You know, the Sunny Bay Club, around Christmas? That party?”

“The one the Berrigans threw, that’s right, for all the sixth and seventh graders. You made out with her?” Valerie scooted her stool back, jumped up and seated herself at the other end of the couch. “Tell me! You have to tell me everything. What happened? How–”

“They had this den, this playroom downstairs, and it was kinda dark, and there were a lot of people making out, you know, girls and boys, and girls and girls… and boys and boys. That’s what they did down there.”

“And?”

Didi raised her eyebrows. “And I’m telling you!” It was a big distraction, having Mom so close to her, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in t-shirt and panties. Suppressing the urge to stare, she adjusted her boxers again before resuming the story. “So, Ashley grabbed my hand when we were upstairs and pulled me down to this room –”

“She’s such a slut, that girl…” Valerie was leaning in, her eyes wide.

“And we sat on this sofa in the back, it was kind of, I don’t know, like humid. Funky, you know? And she goes, ‘You can feel my boobs’ –”

“Oh my God! Such a slut!” Valerie fell back on the arm of the couch, briefly flashing a glimpse of her dark pubes.

Didi shivered, but kept her voice steady as she continued to speak. “So, of course I did… and–”

Wait!” Her mom popped back up. “What did her boobs feel like?”

“Umm… kinda spongy, like–”

“Her bra was stuffed. Absolutely. Did it feel like it was stuffed?”

Didi heaved a big breath. “I don’t know, Mom, I don’t have a whole lot of experience with touching girls, you know?” She looked down at her own barely risen bumps.

Valerie held her gaze steady, then tilted her head. “No… of course you don’t.” She continued to look at her daughter, clearly pondering something.

Didi took a swallow of beer, then narrowed her eyes. Mom was smiling at her in a weird way. “What?”

Placing a warm hand on the girl’s knee, Valerie murmured, “Didi… is hers the only boob you’ve touched?”

“Ashley?” Her mother nodded. “Uh-huh. Just her.”

“So if you felt another breast… a real one this time… you might be able to tell the difference. Right?”

Didi felt a bit dizzy. “I guess…?”

“I think probably, yes.” Valerie scooted closer to her daughter. “Okay, then.” She gestured toward her own chest. “Put your hands on mine, and see how they feel.” Didi stared at her mother, paralyzed. “Go ahead. Think of it as… as an experiment. For a good cause.”

Didi hesitantly put out both hands – then paused, uncertain of herself. Valerie encouraged her. “It’s okay. Don’t be shy.”

Swallowing hard, Didi touched, then latched on to her mother’s breasts. Her eyes widened in awe. Such wonderful softness, so thick and full!

“Go ahead… squeeze them,” said Valerie.

Didi did just that. They were firm, yet oh so squeezable. She felt her little missy start to drip, but by then, she was past caring.

Valerie finally pulled away, carefully adjusting her shirt. Her nipples were quite evidently excited, all but visible through the light fabric. “Now… did Ashley’s breasts feel like that?” All Didi could do was shake her head vigorously. “I didn’t think so,” Valerie said with a smile, then took a swig from her bottle. “Is that all that happened with her? You made out, you said… right?”

Didi cleared her throat. “Umm, right. Right. But it was kinda gross.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… you know, I felt her boobs, and we started kissing, and at first it was okay, but then she started like, licking on me, like in my mouth, and she was… slobbering on me–”

Valerie winced. “Oh, no–”

“Yeah, I felt like she was trying to eat my face or something. It was really yucky.”

Stroking her daughter’s leg, Valerie murmured, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Your first kiss should be… I don’t know, it should be wonderful–”

“Well, this one wasn’t.” Didi shuddered.

“That’s so sad… guess I was lucky. I had someone teach me who knew what they were doing.” She continued to absently stroke Didi’s leg from ankle to knee, losing herself in the memory. “It makes all the difference if your first kiss is with someone who’s especially good at it, and cares about you… my gosh, what a sexy experience…”

“Was it Dad?”

Valerie looked at her daughter blankly, as if she’d been daydreaming. “What?”

“Dad. Was it him that taught you to kiss?”

Taking her hand away from Didi’s leg, Valerie nervously toyed with her black hair. “No, this was… long before your father, this was…” She stood to retrieve her beer, then suddenly exclaimed. “I know! Let’s play Truth or Dare! You want to play?”

Didi furrowed her brow, concentrating. “Is that the game Madonna plays with her friends in that movie?”

“Truth or Dare. That’s the name of the movie.”

“And they play Truth or Dare. Right.” Didi took another swallow of beer.

“So? You want to?”

“Play the game? With you?”

Valerie was visibly excited, practically bouncing in place. “Yes, silly!”

Didi shrugged. “Okay. I guess.”

Valerie reached out to touch the girl’s cheek. “What’s wrong, honey? You don’t want to play?”

“No, it’s just… I mean, if I asked something, like, weird or wrong or something, you might get mad.”

“No, no – I wouldn’t get mad.”

Did frowned. “You say that…”

Quickly sitting down beside her daughter, Valerie murmured, “Didi.” She put a hand up, three fingers raised. “Scout’s honor. I will not get mad. In this game, there are no wrong questions. Or dares, or… whatever, okay?” She lightly slapped her thighs three times. “Tell you what. For the occasion of your birthday, our family room is hereby designated a No Mad Zone. Okay?”

Didi smiled. “Okay.”

“Good!” Valerie stood, and began pacing the room. “How to start, how to start…” She set her beer on the coffee table. “Rock, Paper, Scissors?”

“Sure.”

Valerie clenched her right hand in a fist, resting it in the left hand. “Ready?”

“Wait, wait, what happens? Who gets what if they win?”

Val’s hand dropped to her side. “No, it’s no one wins, it’s just–”

“I mean when you win Rock, Paper, Scissors – what happens then?”

“Oh. Then, you get to ask the question. Or, think up a dare.”

Didi nodded. “Okay.” She held out her hand. “Ready?”

“Oh, yeah.” Valerie was grinning. “Here we go. One, two, three!”

Didi held out a rock; her mother had gone with paper. Valerie laughed. “I win! Ha-haa!” She did a little bump-and-grind, singing,. “I won, I won, it’s your birth-day, but I won!”

Didi smiled in spite of herself. “Yeah, yeah, okay. So do it.”

Valerie studied the girl for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “So, will it be… truth? Or dare, my little lady?”

“Umm… truth?” Didi replied.

“A-haa… okay…” Once more, Valerie paced the room, like an old-time detective. “Hmm, hmm, hmmm…” Coming to an abrupt halt, she placed both hands on her hips. Didi thought her mother looked awesome, standing there in just her T-shirt and panties.

Folding her arms, Valerie fixed her daughter with a probing look. “Okay. Have you ever seen, or participated in, um… any activity of a sexual nature?” She flipped her hair back, pleased by her ability to come up with such an incisive question. “Remember, now…” She pointed at Didi. “…you must be absolutely truthful!”

Didi sat quietly, chewing her lower lip. “Activity of a sexual nature… whoa.” She looked up at her mom.

Valerie tilted her head. “Is this like, too weird? ‘Cause, you know–”

“No, no, it’s cool, I’m just… hmmm…” Her hand strayed to her boxers. “Like, anywhere? Any time? With, like, anyone else? Or just me? Or–”

“No, not just you, that’s… no. I mean, any activity from anyone else. Oh, and, not the internet. Real people only. Okay, then.” She sat on her stool, eager to hear whatever Didi had to say.

“Ohh-kaaay…” Didi was shaking her head, sifting through memories as she stared up at the ceiling. And it came to her. She quickly sat up. “Yes!”

“Yes?” her mom was a bit concerned. “What? Who?”

“I mean, it wasn’t me. But I did see it, so…”

Valerie’s mouth opened wide. “Yes! So tell me, tell me. Truth!” She hurried back to the other end of the couch, took a seat and leaned towards her daughter. “I’m all ears.”

“Okay, so… um…” Didi noticed her mother’s face had a rosy glow that went all the way down her neck, into her t-shirt. And her nipples were sticking. Straight. Out. She wanted to get a really good look, but managed to keep focused on her mother’s face. “So, you know how last year, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I always stashed my book bag in the art room? ‘Cause that was my last class, but I had to get to practice like, immediately?”

“Mmm-hmm, I remember.”

“Okay, so… one of those days I went back to get my bag after practice, and I heard this weird noise–”

“What kind of noise?”

“Like, kind of… like somebody was hurting? Or, trying to pick up something really heavy? I didn’t know, it was just… weird. So, you know how Mrs. Duval’s office has a window next to her door.”

“Yeah…”

“And there’s all this art stuff taped to it, so you can’t see through. But, like, a while back, I was in her office and I saw one of my projects, it was a bunch of turtles I drew.”

Valerie nodded. “Oh, sure, I remember those.”

“Yeah, so… I don’t know, I wanted to take one of those drawings with me, so I did. It was just a little one. But when I took it down, it made… well, there was this little space in the window.” The heat of the room and the scent of Mom’s perfume were making Didi a bit light-headed, but she soldiered on. “So I kept hearing this weird, like, crying sound. But not really crying, because sometimes it was talking, like… chanting or something. So I sneaked up to the window and peeked through where that turtle space used to be…”

Valerie grabbed her daughter’s leg. “AND?”

“And… I saw Mrs. Duval on her couch, and she was sitting with her legs spread wide open, her dress was way up over her stomach, and she was like, completely naked under there–”

“Oh my gosh–”

“–and she was just, like, rubbing and rubbing herself–”

“Her cootchie?”

“Yeah, digging her fingers inside, and then rubbing… and she was so hairy, like, tons of hair…”

Valerie stared at her daughter, her mouth open and breathing heavily. She swallowed. “So… is she really a redhead?”

Didi gave a weak smile. “Oh, yeah, it was all red hair down there. Maybe some other colors, too, but… yeah, really red. Her, um, cootchie was red, too.”

“Ohh, my, gosh…” Valerie slumped back against the plush arm of the couch. Her knees were up and her legs scissored in and out as she began to giggle. “Oh my gosh…” Her giggling grew into laughter. “Betsy Duval! Rubbin’ one out! Oh my GOSH!” She took a swig of beer, then almost spit it out in another spasm of mirth. “Oh! Oh! that is so amazing!” Setting her bottle on the coffee table, she jumped to her feet and started hopping up and down. “Mrs. Prim Betsy, jilling in the office! TOO funny!”

“What’s jilling?” Didi asked, furrowing her brow.

“Ohh, honey, it’s like… what do boys call it when they, um, masturbate? Jacking off?”

Didi shook her head.

“Well, that’s what they call it. So… Jack and Jill! Boys jack off, girls jill off! Get it?”

“Ahhhh…” Didi was enthralled by her mom’s excitement, her energy. “I never heard that.”

“Well, no, I should hope not.” Reaching for her beer, Valerie took another gulp. “Man, oh man… I will never be able to look at Betsy Duval the same way ever again. Hah!” She pressed a hand to her panty front. “Ooh, I have to pee. Your turn next!” And she hustled, a bit clumsily, to the bathroom.

Didi settled back with her feet up on the sofa, considering her choices. A dare – that’s what she really wanted to go for. A very specific dare. But could she really ask her mom to do something like that? Well,  Mom did want me to talk about sex stuff, after all. Maybe that meant this was a good time to be bold herself, to take this game of Truth or Dare into uncharted territory. It still seems weird, though, thinking about Mom that way. But also really, really interesting. Hmmm…

On to Part Two!

The story thus far: Seeking a missing Texas Ranger, our old acquaintance The Tequila Kid comes across a poor family named Miller. Like many others in the area, this widow Sarah and her two little girls, Amy and Cindy, have been brutalized by a wealthy scoundrel named McCuller, who intends to drive away all the owners of small farms and ranches in the area and take their land. Later, drying off from heavy rain at the local stable, Sheriff Lucas Clay comes in search of The Kid, demanding she surrender her guns. Knowing Clay to be corrupt (and in league with McCuller), The Kid asks to speak with him in private. Moments later at the jail, he threatens her, and she deals him a beat-down, then informs him that she means to arrest McCuller and Tyson Avidite (a banker who is part of the conspiracy) before she leaves.

From the sheriff’s office, she goes to the Silver Slipper, the town’s saloon, gambling house and brothel. There, she encounters a young man named Jud Nelson, who she’d seen Sheriff Clay harass earlier. Recognizing him as a decent sort, she hires him to watch the jail to see if Clay leaves. Then she meets a twelve-year-old girl named Dixie, who does menial work at the Silver Slipper and is bullied by Toots, the brutish bartender. The Kid asks Dixie which girl is the most popular of the whores. Star, the girl replies, and The Kid gives Dixie the money to pay for Star’s services that evening.

Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, The Kid enjoys an intense hour of sex with Star. Afterwards, she asks the prostitute a few questions about the town and its doings. She learns that Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she seeks, disappeared around the same time as Dixie’s older sister Dallas, who was one of the whores at the Silver Slipper. The Kid asks about Ben McCuller, but Star refuses to answer, claiming “it’s too dangerous.” When The Kid goes back downstairs, Jud returns to let her know that Sheriff Clay just left town, riding hard in the direction of McCuller’s place.

Figuring she’s done as much as she can for one night, The Kid decides to join an ongoing card game, where she ends up winning a decent amount of money, as well as a neglected horse, which she takes to the local stable where her own horse is being kept.

The next morning, The Kid is informed by Jud Nelson that Cy Warren, McCuller’s enforcer and dirty-jobs man, has just entered the sheriff’s office, using a key. On their way to confront him, The Kid is taken aback to recognize the horse Cy has hitched up outside as Thunder, who she knows to be the property of Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she is seeking. More determined than ever to get answers from Cy Warren, she boldly strides into the sheriff’s office, a nervous Jud close behind.

The Kid quickly catches Warren in an obvious lie about his having purchased Hansen’s horse, and arrests him on the spot, drawing her gun before he can. Once Cy is locked up, she and Jud set off for banker Tyson Avidite’s office. With the genuine ranch deeds in her possession, she and Jud quickly establish that the ones Avidite is holding for McCuller are obvious forgeries, created in an effort to steal the area’s small ranches from their rightful owners.  Confronted by the evidence, Avidite breaks down and confesses to his role in McCuller’s crooked conspiracy. 

Later that day, The Kid steals onto McCuller’s land while he is away. She encounters his vicious pair of trained dogs, and deploys Indian methods she learned as a young girl to make friends with them. That accomplished, she carefully breaks into his study, where she fiddles with a certain something in the man’s desk drawer before making her escape.

The Kid has one more task to accomplish before turning in. She drops by the Silver Slipper to liberate the young girl Dixie from her menial position. The vicious bartender Toots is intent on stopping The Kid, but she takes him down with a couple of well-placed punches, then helps herself to a large wad of cash from the man’s pocket for Dixie’s back wages. The Kid and the girl then depart, leaving an enraged Toots behind.

The Kid takes Dixie out for a decent meal, buys her a new set of clothes, then gets them a room at a local boarding house. After a bath, The Kid plans to turn in for the night… but Dixie has other ideas, insisting on making love to her benefactor as a way of saying thanks. The Kid finds the sweet young thing impossible to resist. 

The next morning, on her way to the sheriff’s office, The Kid happens upon two men loading a large wagon with food and supplies, and quickly realizes they work for McCuller. When they beat a man for begging for a little flour, she arrests them both, putting them in jail along with Cy Warren. Once they’re locked up, she asks Jud Nelson to return the deeds McCuller stole to the families he took them from — along with a thousand dollars for each family, taken from McCuller’s bank account, and the contents of take the wagon of supplies.

By that time, The Kid is obliged to cut Warren loose, but she refuses to give him back his horse (who belonged to the missing Ranger Hansen), forcing him to walk back to McCuller’s ranch. Needless to say, Cy Warren is quite displeased.

The Kid takes Dixie to the Miller home, asking Sarah if she can take the girl in. Sarah immediately consents. Her daughters Cindy and Amy quickly take a liking to Dixie (whose real name, we learn, is Clara), and agree with their mother. 

That night, The Kid beds down in the Millers’ barn, keeping a lookout. Before turning in, Sarah gives her daughters a bath, along with Clara/Dixie. Later, Sarah pays The Kid a late-night visit, and ends up slipping into The Kid’s bedroll to keep warm. There, she mentions having bathed the girls. The Kid wonders out loud why Sarah’s daughters don’t wash themselves, then gets the young mother to admit that she very much enjoys seeing the girls nude. By then, Sarah is so aroused that The Kid easily seduces her, and they begin to make love.

Meanwhile, Clara is in bed with her new sisters, teaching them some very intimate games. Cindy and Amy have already explored kissing with one another, but Clara gets them to go much further. They all have a lovely time.

Sarah, on the other hand, is so troubled by illicit thoughts of her daughters that she pulls away from The Kid, apologizes and leaves. Returning to the house, she is surprised to find Clara waiting in her bed. Sarah resists, but Clara’s seductive skills are so well-honed that she ends up giving in, allowing the girl to make love to her. One at a time, Any and Cindy are awakened by the sounds of passion, wander to their mother’s room to investigate, and end up joining in the sexual abandon. Sarah gives into her newly discovered desire and makes love to both her children, as well as Clara.

Meanwhile, evil rancher McCuller has assembled an army of rough men to drive the small farmers and ranchers out of the area for good, killing them if need be. He also hires notorious gunman Kid Coley (who widowed Sarah Miller a couple of months earlier when he shot down her husband) to kill the Tequila Kid. 

After releasing McCuller’s men Sam and Cookie, The Kid heads over to the Silver Slipper for a drink with Jud. When the bartender Toots sees them, he seizes a gun and tries to shoot The Kid, but Star blocks the shot and dies herself.

At the same time, McCuller’s army prepares to ride. 

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Purple Les

It sure was freezing cold for being so sunny out. Ma had sent me and Amy to Mrs Vale’s to borrow some cake pans. Now that we had flour and eggs, Ma wanted to bake us a cake to take to the Vale’s Christmas party. 

It was a long walk on the main road, so cold the ground was rock hard. Amy was playing her harmonica as we walked back home and I was carrying the cake pans. I thought her lips would freeze to it for sure, but she just played it fine anyway.

I was walking ahead cause I was in a hurry to get back home again. And because I wanted to get away from the music. I love Amy to bits, but if I had to hear Hark the Harold Angels Sing one more time I might rip off my own ears, dig a hole in the ground and bury them.

Then she stopped playing long enough to come running up next to me. She went on about how good it was that it was Christmas Eve day, and chattering on and on about baby Jesus, and Santa Claus.

I never was too sure about Santa Claus. Seems like it would take a miracle for him to do all the things folks say he can. I have heard about miracles and Christmas time magic, but never seen any.

I figured out last Christmas it weren’t Santa that brought us presents. It was just Ma and Pa, telling me and Amy that Santa done it. Now with Pa gone, I didn’t see how we could have any kind of Christmas. We had some money now, but Ma couldn’t go into town and spend it on presents cause of the stores not selling to any of us farmers after Mr McCuller made them stop. The only reason we could even get food was we’d trade some eggs or hay or even Pa’s things for whatever little bit of something our neighbors could spare. But it had been a spell since we traded cause everybody had less and less all the time.

So I just didn’t see any way Ma could pretend to be Santa Claus and leave us presents. It made me wish Santa could be real, just to make my sister happy. But I knew he weren’t. So it would be a sad Christmas for us. I didn’t say anything to Amy though. No sense in ruining it for her. I’m more grown, so I understand, but cause Amy is still only eight, I wanted her to believe a little longer if she could. But she’d find out Christmas morning just the same.

Out of nowhere a horse and rider jumped right in front of us out of some tall brush, and me and Amy stopped dead still right where we were.

I dropped the cake pans right there in the road, I was so scared. The rider got off his horse, laughing at us. He said, ‘Member me, girls?’

Well sure, we remembered him. Who’s ever gonna forget the low down skunk of a man who shot your own Pa dead? But we didn’t say nothing. Well, I didn’t, but Amy hollered ‘You’re Kid Coley! You’re the bad man who killed our Pa!’ I didn’t recall ever seeing her so mad.

Faster than I could blink, he drew his gun and shot Amy’s harmonica right out of her hand. He had a real scary look on his face now. I was glad Amy’s fingers didn’t get shot off, but she started to cry anyway.

He said ‘Good riddance. I hate music, and I specially hate the sound of a d—m harmonica. Say, I been following you kids for a ways now, and I got a message for your mama so listen close. I’m coming to see her later this afternoon. You tell her I’ll show her what it’s like to be loved by a young man with fire in his belly, not some sorry old gunslinger turned sodbuster.’

He shoved his gun back in his holster, then reached down and scooped me up. He put me in a bear hug so I couldn’t move, then kissed me. I kept my mouth shut or tried to but he pushed his tongue in my mouth. I could hear Amy yelling at him to let me go, trying to pull me from his grip.

It was horrible and seemed to go on forever, but at last he threw me to the ground and laughed. Amy kneeled by me, and Kid Coley spit on the ground right next to her. He said, ‘Tell your ma I hope she’s got that much fight.’ He put a hand on the front of his pants. ‘Don’t worry, though. I’ll save some for you girls.’ Then he rode off laughing. 

Amy helped me get up on my feet, then picked up her harmonica. It was ruint, but she said it was a gift from Pa and she meant to keep it. 

We ran home fast as we could to warn Ma. I forgot to bring the cake pans, we was in such a hurry.

***

Button shied and snorted at the sudden crack of a gunshot. The Kid paused, then led her horse at a fast trot toward where she thought it came from, then slowed down to cautiously approach a thick cluster of dried-out brush, grown high enough to conceal a man.

Drawing close, she saw where something had come through the brush, then spied a couple of baking pans, lying in the road. Dismounting, she just barely made out where horse hooves marked the ground in one spot, aimed toward the town. Then she found marks in the dust from the heels of small boots, running the other direction. Two pair, from the look of it.

This don’t feel right, The Kid told herself. She quickly gathered up the pans and mounted up, then rode Button at a gallop down the road in the same direction those little boots had gone.

***

I didn’t really start to crying till we was back home again. I felt like a big baby but just couldn’t help it. Ma comforted me for a while till I come back to my senses. Clara kept Amy busy making some decorations out of pine cones she’d picked up around our ranch. Ma had me sit still and drink some tea. I felt better some, but got all scared again when Ma took the rifle down from the mantle. I watched her clean it and load it up. All the time I kept looking at the ruined harmonica on the table, thanking God Amy hadn’t been hurt.

We all jumped when there was a knock at the door.

***

Sarah snatched up the rifle when she heard the knock. “Who is it?” she yelled, struggling to keep her voice steady and strong. Don’t let him know you’re scared, else you and the girls are done for.

She felt almost sick with relief to hear, “It’s the Tequila Kid, Sarah. I found some bakin’ pans up in the road, and figured they was yours. The girls all right?”

Setting the rifle down, Sarah quickly let The Kid inside. She gave the young woman a fierce hug, then slammed and bolted the door.

***

We was all glad to see the Tequila Kid. I felt a little braver now that she was there.

***

The Kid held Amy in her lap while sipping hot tea, listening intently as Amy and Cindy told her what had happened, her eyes returning now and then to the broken harmonica on the table.

After hearing the gist of Kid Coley’s message, The Kid stood Amy up on the floor, then got to her feet. Putting a hand on each girl’s shoulder, she murmured, “You two sure are brave. I admire you for that.” She turned to Sarah. “I’ll stable Button in the barn, then wait there for that damn Coley. But first…”

The Kid checked Sarah’s rifle, satisfied to find it cleaned and loaded. Moving the dining table over to the door, she tipped it onto its side with the legs facing the entrance. The Kid cocked a round into the rifle and said, “Sarah, come on over to this side of the table and get down behind it.”

Sarah knelt behind the table, facing the front door. The Kid handed her the rifle, saying, “If that door starts to open, shoot!” Laying the barrel on the table’s edge, Sarah took aim, and The Kid nodded. “That’s good. For now, just stay calm and do whatever you like, but keep an eye and ear open. You hear a horse approach, get behind that table and ready to fire that gun.”

The Kid faced the girls. “When Coley shows up, you three hole up in the bedroom. Keep the door closed. I reckon Coley will raise a ruckus when he gets here. That’s when I want you girls to run and hide. We got us a little time, so after I put Button up I’ll scout around some.” She looked up at Sarah. “Remember… the door opens, you shoot and don’t stop shootin’ ‘til that gun’s empty.”

“Kid,” Sarah said, a frantic look in her eyes. “Maybe… maybe you should take the girls somewhere else. Somewhere safe. This is no place for them to be.”

Resting a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, The Kid sighed, “Truth is, there ain’t no safe place for good folks ‘til this is over.”

“Take Clara, then,” Sarah pleaded. “He’s after my family, not hers. She shouldn’t be mixed up in this.”

Clara spoke up. “No, ma’am. I’m stayin’ right here. You folks took me in, and I’m with you, no matter what.”

“Oh, my sweet child,” Sarah whispered, on the verge of tears. Reaching out, she drew Clara into her arms, then gestured Amy and Cindy into their embrace.

Watching them hug, The Kid took a slow, deep breath. Hope I got what it takes to keep these good folks safe. I know for fact Coley’s taken out faster than me in a fair fight. “I better get out to the barn,” she said.

Sarah looked up. “Don’t you get yourself hurt, Kid. Please, be careful.”

Taking Sarah’s hand, The Kid gave it a quick squeeze. “Just keep yourselves safe. Don’t you worry about me none.” Touching the brim of her hat, she opened the door and stepped out, then turned and said, “Keep this door locked.”

The Kid started for the barn, leading Button – only to turn when she heard the sound of running feet. There was little Amy, hastening toward her. The Kid squatted down, and when Amy got to her she said, “You shouldn’t be out here, sweetness. Go on, get back indoors, and stay there like we agreed.”

“I will, I promise,” Amy declared. “I just came out to bring you this.” Turning her back to Button, she held up a large red apple with a yellow ribbon wrapped around it. “It’s for Button,” the child whispered. “So she has a gift for Christmas. It’s the only apple that was in the supplies we got. You will give it to her for me, won’t you?”

The Kid had to blink back tears when she replied, “Why, I sure will. I’ll surprise her in the mornin’, and I’ll tell her it’s from her good friend Amy.”  She carefully put the apple into her coat pocket.

“And this is for you!” Amy said excitedly, handing The Kid a hard-boiled egg. “Merry Christmas.”

“Why, shucks. Thank you kindly.”

Reaching into her pocket, Amy took out a pine cone with splotches of green and blue paint on it. “This is a Christmas decoration, Kid. Or you can use it like a little Christmas tree. You can put Button’s apple under it for her!”

The Kid cradled her gift in both hands. “Well, now,” she said, beaming at the little girl, “I never had nothin’ like this before. I’ll treasure it always. Thank you, Amy.”

“You’re welcome.” Amy replied, smiling back.

“Uh, I’m sorry I ain’t got nothin’ for you, Amy.” The Kid said glumly, then her face brightened. “Except this.” Going down on her knees, she gave the child a warm, lingering hug.

Hugging her back, Amy murmured, “That’s a real nice present, Thanks, Kid.”

Drawing back, The Kid rubbed the tip of her nose against Amy’s. “Glad you liked it. I don’t go round givin’ hugs to just anyone, y’know.” She gave the little girl’s bottom a pat. “Now get you back inside, pardner.”

The Kid watched as Amy ran up to the door, turned to give her a quick wave, then scurried into the house. For a long time, she studied the Miller home, bracing herself for the confrontation with Kid Coley. Sure hope I can keep them safe… or if I get killed, I hope Sarah can take him down herself.

She led Button into the stable, gave her some hay, and seated herself on a bale of hay to wait for Coley, looking out through a chink in the barn wall. She kept Button in her line of vision, knowing her horse would surely hear a stranger coming and warn her with a noise or sudden movement.

The Kid was sitting on a bale of hay when she saw the mare’s ears turn and her head lift. Button nickered softly and The Kid whispered, “Good girl.”

***

Kid Coley rode up slowly. He glanced around before dismounting to open the gate and lead his horse in. He didn’t bother to close the gate. As he approached, Coley looked thoughtfully at the barn.

From inside the Tequila Kid stared back, unseen. C’mon, Coley, bring your horse in out of the cold. Better yet, just come on inside, see if anyone’s in here.

But Coley moved past the barn, paused to tether his horse near the water trough, and advanced toward the house. He paused for a moment, drew his gun, then shouted out, “Sa-rah Mil-ler!” He snickered. “Or maybe I should say ‘Sarah Jax’. Hope your girls gived you the message I sent.”

***

We seen him ride in and did like we was supposed to. Well, almost. Clara and Amy went in the bedroom and shut the door, but I was at the table with Ma. I just couldn’t leave her alone out there. She tried to make me go but I flat out said I wouldn’t, so she let me stay. She rested her arms on the table and cocked the rifle, ready to fire. Then we heard him yell.

***

Kid Coley looked around, wearing his malevolent smile. “All alone here, ain’t ya? Be smart now, Sarah. You and your girls take off all your clothes, then open up and invite me in. Do that, and I’ll let you live when I’m done. Make me force my way in, and I’ll still have my way with all of you… but I’ll make you hurt real bad afore you die.”

He fell silent, waiting for a response. None came. His jaw tightened. “I know you’re in there, God damn it!” Coley shouted. Drawing his gun with one hand, he rubbed his crotch with the other. He inspected his pistol, spun it in a quick circle with his trigger finger, then shoved it back into the holster. Baring his teeth, he snarled, “Fine. Fine! You had your chance to treat me right. I’ll make you wish you never been born, all of you!”

Stepping forward, he froze suddenly as the sound of a raven’s caw echoed through the yard, breaking the silence of the cold, late afternoon. Hand on the butt of his gun, Coley looked up and around, but saw nothing. He turned toward the house again, then heard the raven caw again, louder this time.

Looking over his shoulder, Coley saw the Tequila Kid standing about twenty feet away, thumbs hooked in the belt on her pants. She wore no coat, and stood slouched with one knee slightly bent.

“Kid Coley, ain’t it?” she asked, almost casually.

Coley kept his expression neutral, but inside he was rejoicing. Perfect. I been searching all over for her, and here she is, The Tequila Kid. All mine for the taking. I’ll kill her, then have my fun with Sarah and her girls before I shoot ’em all. Torch the house, take The Kid’s body back to McCuller for the rest of my money, then help his men burn out the rest of them sorry-ass farmers. A good day’s work.

“Well, now,” Kid Coley said, “I’m famous, am I?”

“Oh, I knew it had to be you, judgin’ by that big yellow streak runnin’ down your back. You’re a tough man when it comes to killin’ innocent women and children, ain’t ya? Whatever spawned you must be real proud.”

Coley’s upper lip on one side turned up, so he resembled a growling dog. His face turned dark, a flash of anger replacing his coolness. “Shut your damn trap. I know all about you, Miss Tequila Kid. Cast-off redskin scum like you ain’t fit to talk about my ma and pa. If they was still alive, they’d be right proud of me. My people built this country up from nothin’, made it what it was. Now look at it.” He spat on the ground. “We killed or drove off most of the redskins, then what happened? It got filled up with Irish, Germans, Chinese, Mexicans… more kinds of human garbage than I can put a name to. Worst of all was that damn Abe Lincoln freein’ all the darkies, givin’ ‘em the notion they’re as good as a white man.

“That’s why I work for men like McCuller. He knows this country has got to be made pure. And that ain’t gonna happen ‘til we get rid of the trash. As for your sort… hell, you Texas Ranger scum are even worse. When the law defends these sodbusters it ain’t law anymore, it’s a sad-ass joke. You’re a goddamn disgrace to that badge you wear… and once I’ve snuffed your light out, I’ll put a bullet hole right through it.” Kid Coley pushed his coat back on the right side, readying himself to draw. His dark eyes smouldered with hate.

“And you’re the one to do that?” The Tequila Kid replied with a disdainful snort. “I can return fire, y’know. It won’t be like shootin’ women and children in the back like you’re used to doin’, Kid Chickenshit.”

Coley’s mouth twisted. “I don’t kill women nor children… just vermin that don’t belong here. Just keepin’ the filth from spreadin’ around.”  He shook his head disdainfully. “Know what? It’s nothin’ but a waste of breath talkin’ to a half-breed like you. Time to die, Tequila Bitch.”

“Tell ya what, Coley,” The Kid murmured, “Just to be a sport about it, I’ll draw left-handed. Give you a fightin’ chance.” She moved her right hand behind her back.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Coley replied, wagging his finger. “You’re tryin’ to pull the wool over my eyes. I’ve heard tell of your left-hand draw. Reckon I’ll take my chances with the right.”

“Fine, fine,” The Kid said. “I’m gettin’ bored, listenin’ to you jabber all day long. On the count of five, fill your hand.”

Coley grinned, “You can count to five? Shit fire, I didn’t know redskins even knew what numbers were. You must’ve learned that afore them savages took you. Course, they ruint you for livin’ among white folks. Me, I’d of put a bullet through your head the day you first showed your face in a town.”

He’s tryin’ to get me rattled, The Kid told herself. “Goddamn it, Coley… don’t you ever get tired of workin’ your jaws? Shut the hell up and let’s get this done.” She took a deep breath, let it out.  “One, two..” she began, putting her left hand behind her back, preparing for Coley to make a move. Sure enough, before The Kid could say, “three,” he went for his gun and drew.

A split second after Coley’s gun left its holster, The Kid shifted her position ever so slightly, just enough for the shot to miss, though it sent her hat flying. A split second later, The Kid fired herself, the shot hitting Coley square in the chest. He staggered back a couple of steps, then crumpled to the ground.

Quickly moving to the man’s side, The Kid kicked his gun away, then squatted down next to him. Coley was mortally wounded, but not yet dead. Just missed his heart, she told herself. Blood flowed freely, soaking through his shirt.

A large, folded piece of paper was tucked into the front pocket of Coley’s coat. Taking it out, The Kid opened it up to find a rough map of all the ranches and farms in the region. There was writing as well, but she had no idea what it meant.

When Coley spoke, it took her by surprise. “I guess you got lucky, damn you. I’m done for.”

“You’re a fool, Coley,” The Kid replied. “I couldn’t of outdrawn you. If you hadn’t tried to cheat, it would of been me layin’ there with a bullet in my head.”

Coley slowly nodded. “I reckon so. But you ain’t gonna stop McCuller from drivin’ them dirt farmers off his land, every fuckin’ one of ‘em. His men are ‘bout to kill that new sheriff, then they’ll be movin’ on them families, a few hours before dawn. Any of ‘em who don’t p-pack up and leave will die. Hell, maybe McCuller’s boys’ll kill the ones who d-do leave, just for fun.” He coughed up a gobbet of blood.

The Kid was numb with horror. Hell’s bells. McCuller’s already made his move, and I didn’t see it coming. What do I do now?

Coley was choking on a laugh. “So that’s it. You may of won this battle, but McCuller… he’s won the war.” A bloody froth coated his lips, and his voice was reduced to a ragged whisper. “I’ll see you in hell, bitch…”

With one last rattling laugh, Coley fell silent, a grotesque death smile frozen on his reptilian face.

The Kid’s mind spun frantically, like a dog chasing its own tail. Shit. That raid’s gonna happen in about five, six hours. Jud could already be dead… and even with a head start, I can’t get to every ranch in time. My only chance is to get to McCuller and nab him, have him call his men off. No time to spare – I gotta go now!

Quickly going through Coley’s pockets and gear, she then slung his dead body over the back of his horse, fastening it to the saddle. Climbing up on Button, Kid turned toward the house and yelled, “Sarah! I got to go! I took care of Coley, but keep on the lookout for any more of McCuller’s men.” Driving Button ahead, she called out, “Adios!” then hit the trail, riding hell-bent for leather.

***

Me and Ma both jumped when we heard the shot. She pushed me down and rested the gun on the edge of the table, her eyes fixed on the door. She looked fierce but her cheeks were pale, and I know she was mighty scared, too. 

Later on Clara would say she was sure there was two shots. Ma was of the opinion if there was two shots, they must have happened at the same time, but there was no way to know, so we waited.

It was dead silent. I asked Ma if she thought the Tequila Kid was dead. Why didn’t she shout out to us? Ma couldn’t figure out the quiet either. Surely who ever shot the other would speak up, wouldn’t they? 

We couldn’t stand it no more after what seemed an uncommon long time. Then just when we was about to look out the window, there was the clomping of horse hooves.

Ma told me to stay put and she went to the window, but I followed her anyhow. She gave me a look but didn’t say anything. 

We looked out, just barely raising our heads. It was almost dark, but there was the shape of two horses riding out the gate. One horse had a rider, the other horse had a body slung over the saddle. I sure was glad to see the rider was the Tequila Kid. 

She rode toward us a little and shouted out that she shot Kid Coley, but we needed to watch out for more raiders. Then she and the horses was galloping off into the dark. 

Ma checked on Amy and Clara and found they had fell asleep. We figured it best to leave them that way. So me and Ma went back behind the table to listen and wait for any trouble. Don’t know how after all that excitement, but I fell asleep myself.

We never did see the Tequila Kid again.

On to Chapter Eleven!

For a list of the many characters who populate this saga, check out Dramatis Personae.

Thus far in our story…

Prologue: Hailey Ellis has returned to Morcant-On-Sea after several years away, only to find the coastal town is a shadow of its former self. Amidst this decline, Hailey navigates her various relationships, but a shocking encounter with her selkie aunt foreshadows a chain of events that will change all their lives forever.

Ch1: Several months later in the village of Derwold, the summer holidays begin for the Newton girls. Eleven-year-old Freya struggles to cope with the changes that adolescence brings, and wonders why she feels so angry and alone. To add to her unhappiness, she experiences her first period. 

Ch2: The next day, Freya has a chance meeting with Elsa Hart, wife of the new lord of Derwold Manor. A little later, Freya joins Sadie and her sister Millie for a lesson in alchemy, but things don’t quite go as planned when Millie inadvertently amplifies the potency of the love potion they’ve brewed. After the effects have worn off, Millie visits the churchyard to pay her respects to an old friend. Whilst there, she has an encounter with a black panther, and discovers she can communicate with the creature.

Ch3: Several days later, Simon and Elsa host a housewarming party in the grounds of the old manor. Elsa treats Freya to a tour of the recent restoration efforts, and the seeds are sown for a burgeoning friendship. Meanwhile, post mistress Sally Jeffries has a few too many drinks and ends up accidentally setting fire to pompous druid Bernard, then has a few choice words for Simon Derwold, who she remembers from decades before. Georgia, Sadie and Millie make their way home, where they indulge in a night of passion in the lounge, only to be interrupted by Elsa and Freya. Elsa comes to suspect her new neighbours are not all that they seem.

Ch4: The vicar of Derwold has been murdered by an unknown assailant. Unaware of the events that are about to unfold, Sadie tries to fathom the mysteries of the ancient standing stone near her cottage with the help of Freya and Millie. Later, Freya pays a visit to Derwold Manor, and she and Elsa enjoy an afternoon of passion. It turns out Elsa is using Freya for her own ends, and the eleven-year-old is tricked into revealing all their secrets.

Ch5: Sadie receives a concerning call from Vivaan Dinesh, Derwold’s resident doctor. At the surgery, she is confronted with the murdered vicar. Meanwhile, Millie rescues Bernard from the mysterious black panther, and the traumatised man confesses he’s not a real druid at all. 

Sadie sets out to investigate the vicar’s murder, and discovers that someone has set an arcane wall around the village, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. In the woods that surround Derwold, she meets Astris the dryad.

Ch6: Astris tells Sadie that Elsa is the one who has sealed off the village, though for what purpose she doesn’t know. The dryad also hints that Elsa is a witch, and that she harbours great power. Sadie researches the Derwold family and discovers they have a troubled history. She also discovers Elsa changed her name to conceal her past, and is inexplicably older than she seems. 

At the post office, Sally Jeffries tells Sadie a disturbing childhood story, in which an eight-year-old Simon tortured and killed his pet dog. Suspecting the vicar’s murder may have been Simon’s doing, Sadie hastens to Beekeeper Cottage to make sure everyone’s safe, but Freya has already gone to the manor to meet with Elsa. Sadie races to retrieve her.

Ch7: At Derwold Manor, stark truths are revealed. Elsa has sealed the village off to protect Simon. More than that, she intends to set the stage for a new world order, one where women rule and men are consigned to history. She asks Sadie and Millie to join her, but Sadie refuses. She and Freya arrive back at Beekeeper Cottage only to find Georgia and Millie missing. They are captured by Elsa’s thugs, and reunited with Georgia and Millie, the four of them are imprisoned in the manor. 

Discovering the large rock in the cellar where they are confined is actually an ancient standing stone, Millie manages to tap into its magic, and she and Sadie are transported to an unknown location. 

Ch8: Enraged, Elsa threatens to kill Georgia if Freya doesn’t tell her where Sadie and Millie have gone, but Freya manages to convince her they know nothing of their whereabouts. Taking no chances, Elsa locks them in a room full of taxidermy specimens. Freya opens up to her mother, expressing her fears and doubts.

Meanwhile, in the Cornish town of Morcant-On-Sea, a tribe of Selkie rescue a near-drowned Sadie and Millie, then point them in the direction of the lighthouse. Sadie hopes that whoever lives up there can help them get back home. Having reached their destination, they discover a strange cocoon-like object. Before they have time to consider exactly what it is or what it means, they realise someone has followed them into the lighthouse.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by BlueJean

1

Hailey had seen them crossing the yard from the porthole of her attic bedroom. Most evenings – assuming she was at home – she would stand on the bed, poke her head out of the window and light up her single cigarette of the day. The habit had gone from needing, or even wanting, to something more ritualistic, an invocation of loss and longing to accompany the fading light of day.

Having watched the sun disappear into the sea, Hailey took the last puff of her cigarette and then pinched it out. She was about to throw the butt down below when two figures moved across the yard. When they came into the light of the garage, Hailey saw it was a woman and child.

Her first thought was that they were peddling some religion or other – Jehovah’s Witnesses or Scientologists, perhaps – but it seemed unlikely. Ferries from the mainland were few and far between these days, and none of them operated at this late hour.

Instead of ringing the doorbell, the couple bypassed the cottage altogether and made for the lighthouse. Were they tourists, then, hoping to get a view from the top? Even if the lighthouse had been unlocked, what were they expecting to see up there in the pitch dark? Maybe their climb up here had taken longer than they’d anticipated, and the daylight had simply run out on them.

But when the woman grasped the handle and pushed open the door, Hailey was aghast to discover the lighthouse was unlocked, after all. Even now, they were venturing inside.

How many times had she told Uncle Derek to make sure it was locked when he came back down? How often had she stressed the importance of it? And it wasn’t people entering that had been her chief concern. Rather, the thing inside getting out.

Flicking her cigarette butt through the window, Hailey jumped off the bed and scrambled downstairs. She was through the front door and halfway across the yard when it occurred to her there was nothing on her feet but socks, but all the better if it silenced her footfalls upon the metal staircase of the lighthouse. The interlopers didn’t seem like a threat – probably just idiot grockles with no respect for private property – but better to be cautious.

She padded up the spiral staircase, careful to keep some distance between herself and the visitors. When she caught sight of them lingering on the landing above, she hung back until the woman climbed up into the light chamber, soon followed by the little girl.

“Sadie, what is it?” she heard the child say when she followed them through the hatch. The two of them were regarding the cocoon with understandable confusion.

“That,” Hailey said as she entered the light chamber, “is my Aunt Rita.”

In retrospect, it’d been a stupid thing to say. Such an outlandish claim would inevitably require an explanation, and trying to explain such a thing as this would be as difficult as it was unwise. But the way these trespassers had regarded her aunt with looks of dull horror – it irked her. There was a person inside that thing. Someone she loved.

The woman and girl spun to face her.

“Who are you?” Hailey demanded. “The lighthouse isn’t open to the public.”

“We’re not here to cause trouble,” the woman said. “We were told Rita might be able to help us.”

“Help with what? Who told you that?”

The woman seemed reluctant to answer, so she and Hailey simply stood and stared at each other until the young girl broke the silence.

“Is that really Rita?” she asked, pointing to the cocoon on the floor. “If that’s the menopause, I don’t ever want to have one.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not the menopause,” Hailey said, amused despite herself. Then to the woman: “I’m not sure what’s happening to my aunt, but I can’t help thinking this was something better suited to the ocean. I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but if you know anything at all that can help…”

The woman shook her head. “My knowledge of the Selkie is limited. Karnu said she was going through some change, but I didn’t expect… this.”

Hailey started at that. Who were these people?

“You spoke to the other Selkie? Listen, I… I’m not sure what’s going on, but you can see Rita’s beyond helping anyone. It’s really not a good time for us right now.”

The woman regarded her awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Hailey offered her a strained smile. “We just want her back, you know? It’s been hard to deal with.” She brought her hands to her face and broke down, no longer able to contain the months of despair and worry. She collapsed to her knees, huge sobs racking her body.

Millie peered up at Sadie with wide, concerned eyes, then burst into tears too.

Sadie could’ve used a strong drink.

2

Elsa’s hand hovered over the collapsed menhir. She hated the stones, hated their particular brand of alchemy simply because it couldn’t be tamed; couldn’t be owned. The Tuatha had undoubtedly versed their human cohorts in how to travel through the monuments safely, but those days had long gone, the knowledge lost along the way.

Attempting to traverse the stones now would be a fool’s venture. With no reliable way to navigate their complex networks, gods only knew where you’d end up, assuming you even reached a destination at all. The thought of becoming lost forever in the realm between realms filled Elsa with a rare terror.

But this time she had no choice. Sadie and Millie had run, and no one ran from Elsa. Even if she declined to follow them through the menhir, she would still need to enter that dream-like nexus to determine where they had gone, then travel to their destination using more conventional means.

They were too important to let go. Both Sadie and Millie knew how to find the dryad, but more than that: like Elsa, Millie was Old Blood. Her power was too valuable to squander. If she could be brought on side, the child would become a force to be reckoned with in the war to come. If she could not… well, Elsa knew ways to absorb such power once its host had been eliminated. Hadn’t she been drawing power from the dead the same way all these years?

She steeled herself, then brought her hand down upon the runes etched into the stone. All at once she was inside the nexus, pathways snaking out in all directions like the silvery limbs of some vast celestial tree. She could see the faint residue of Sadie and Millie’s course, and followed it as far as she dared without fully committing herself to the crossing.

Water. A henge fashioned from fossilized trees. A beach. A harbour. A seaside town full of colourful houses built into the cliffside.

What mockery was this?

One of them must have drawn the location from her mind. They were laughing at her, weren’t they? Having a fine joke at her expense.

Not only did we escape, Elsa, but we went there. To that place you tried so hard to forget. We know all about it. We know, Elsa.

Elsa’s rage threatened to cast her into the current that tugged and harried from every side. It was all she could do to pull herself back from the nexus and exit the stone for the dim light of the cellar.

“You devious bitches!” she screamed at the fallen menhir. “But I have you now!”

3

Sadie got her drink. A tall gin and tonic with a slice of lemon.

Millie asked for tea, and it arrived in the biggest mug she’d ever seen.

“A sailor’s mug, that is,” the large bearded man Hailey had introduced as her Uncle Derek told Millie with a wide grin.

“It’s like a bucket!” Millie exclaimed, and when the man threw his head back and bellowed out a great laugh, she’d nearly jumped out of her skin and upended the vessel.

They’d all exchanged names after that, telling one another abbreviated versions of their respective stories.

The town they’d found themselves in was called Morcant-On-Sea. Sadie wracked her brains trying to recall why the name seemed so familiar, then it struck her: The newspaper article about Elsa had been from a publication called The Morcant Echo. This must have been where Elsa had lived when she was a girl. Surely it was no coincidence. Had Elsa somehow primed the menhir in the manor’s basement to deposit any potential travelers here? Did she visit her old haunts from time to time?

“Witches…” Hailey murmured as they all sat up to the kitchen table. “That’s… mental.”

“Is it really that strange?” Sadie said. “Considering your aunt is… was a selkie?”

“I suppose not. But dryads? And travelling through ancient monuments? It’s hard to take in. Did you know about any of this, Derek?”

Derek toasted and buttered rounds of bread with his usual workmanlike efficiency. “Can’t say I’m familiar with dryads, but Sully used to tell tales about the henge down in the bay, how it could show you other worlds and whatnot. Mind you, it was always best to take whatever he said with a pinch of salt when he’d had a skinful, God bless the old bugger. And make no mistake, we saw some strange things out on the water. Things neither of us could explain.”

“The Selkie and Dryad are both part of what’s known as the Tuatha Dé Danann,” Sadie explained. “A confederation of supernatural beings that seem to have guided humanity long ago.”

“But where did they come from?” Hailey asked.

“I don’t know,” Sadie admitted. “But I don’t think there are many left now. The Romans wiped out most of the Dryad when they invaded Britain.”

Hailey offered her own version of that sad story. “Rita said the Selkie were driven from their hunting grounds and scattered. She thought her tribe might be the last.”

“Hailey? What happened to Rita?” Millie asked. “How did she end up like that?”

Hailey opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Sadie put a comforting hand on the young woman’s arm. “You don’t have to explain.”

“No, it’s okay. The change began months ago. I found her at the top of the lighthouse. Her hair had turned white, her skin started showing signs of lesions, and this… weird stuff started growing all over her body. When it got worse I had our local doctor examine her, but she didn’t know how to help. The other Selkie weren’t much help, either – Karnu just kept telling me Rita wasn’t Rita anymore. He seemed scared.

“After that, Rita wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her. She was adamant that the lighthouse was exactly where she needed to be. We could only watch as that cocoon thing began to grow around her.”

“Was Rita able to tell you what was happening to her?” Sadie asked.

Hailey shook her head. “I couldn’t get much sense out of her at the end, but she said it was a metamorphosis of some kind. She said the Selkie of old devoted rituals to it.”

“You think she’s still alive in that cocoon?”

“Something’s alive in there,” Hailey said.

“It’s Rita,” Derek growled. “How many times have I gotta say it?”

“Don’t start this again,” Hailey told her uncle with a tired groan. “You don’t know what she’s turned into any more than I do.”

“If you’d let me cut that thing open like I suggested, we wouldn’t be arguin’ ’bout it, would we?”

“We have no idea what it is! We could end up killing her if we start interfering with it!”

“I think it’d be very risky, Derek,” Sadie agreed. “If this is some natural part of the selkie’s life cycle, better to let it play out. Like Hailey said, whatever’s happening to Rita, it was surely meant to occur underwater. I’m amazed it’s managed to survive up there.”

“We think the cocoon draws salt and moisture from the air,” said Hailey. “There are vents in the light chamber from where it used to run on gas decades ago.”

“We shoulda got her out and back to the water when we still had the chance,” Derek grumbled as he deposited a plate of toast and various jars of condiments on the table. “Now she’s too big to fit down the hatch.”

Hailey ignored her uncle. “What do you plan to do now, Sadie?”

“We need to get back to Derwold, but I don’t know what we’re going to do once we get there. Even if Astris has unraveled the weavewall, we don’t stand a chance against Elsa without help.”

“Well, don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere tonight, girl,” said Derek. “The ferries don’t run this late. My boat needs refuelin’ before it’s ready for a trip, and I don’t fancy doin’ that in the dark. I can take you round the coast and up the Severn first light tomorrow, if it’s any help. My boat’s the only vessel left in Morcant, anyhow.”

“Don’t people live here anymore?” Millie asked.

“Not many,” Hailey told her. “Most of the houses were sold as holiday homes years ago, and when the cliffs started to collapse, the town was more or less abandoned. Now the only people who live here are the ones who can’t afford to sell up, or are just too stubborn to leave.”

“Which category do you fall into?” Sadie asked.

“The my selkie aunt is trapped at the top of a lighthouse in a weird cocoon category,” Hailey replied with a wry smile.

Millie let out a big sneeze, then wiped her nose with a sleeve. “Can’t we just go back the way we came? Through the tree henge?”

“Absolutely not,” said Sadie. “We nearly drowned coming through. I’m not taking the chance. Besides, transporting ourselves back into a locked basement doesn’t seem like a particularly good rescue plan. Is there no way we can get back across land? Morcant’s a peninsula, isn’t it?”

Derek shook his head. “The land behind the cottage is connected to the mainland, but you’d be riskin’ life and limb tryin’ to get over that way. It’s full of fissures and covered with gorse. You wouldn’t know you’d put a foot wrong ’till it was too late, ’specially in the dark. That’s why they never built a road across – too unstable. Looks like you’re beddin’ down here for the night.”

Sadie was sick with worry about Georgia and Freya. Did Elsa value them enough as hostages to keep them alive? Would her and Millie’s inadvertent escape drive the woman to vengeance? She could only hope they would remain unharmed until she could make it back to Derwold. But she dared not voice those fears in front of Millie.

“That’s ours!” Millie squealed, pointing to a large jar of Newton Pure Honey.

“Aye, aye, we’ve got a live one here,” Derek chuckled, ruffling Millie’s hair. “She thinks we’ve nicked ‘er honey.”

Millie sneezed again. When Sadie put a hand to her brow, she found her apprentice unusually warm.

“No, I mean we made it from our bees! Me and my mum and my sister.”

“You made this honey?” Hailey asked, a frown etched into her brow. She’d always been a sucker for good quality honey, and had not long ago discovered the small website from which the Newtons sold their product. Now it seemed like too much of a coincidence.

“No, the bees did!” Millie replied enthusiastically. “But we put it into jars.”

“So… your mum’s a beekeeper?”

Millie nodded proudly. “Hmm-mm. So am I!”

Sadie confirmed it with a nod. “Are you okay, Hailey?” she asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“This woman that kidnapped you, this Elsa. Will she come after you, do you think? And how dangerous is she, really?”

“Why do you ask?”

Hailey leaned back in her chair and gave the two newcomers a fresh appraisal. “Because I think Rita knew you were coming here. And she seemed to think it wasn’t going to end well for any of us.”

4

Georgia opened her eyes to find Elsa staring back at her. She gave a start, rousing Freya from her own slumber, tucked in front of her mother on the couch.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Elsa said softly.

“What do you want?” asked Georgia. She had no idea what the time was, but knew it must be late.

“I thought you might like to know I’ve found Sadie and Millie.”

Georgia and Freya sat up straight, both fully awake now.

“Are they safe?” Georgia asked.

“I assume so,” Elsa said with a shrug. “Their trail is still active, so they’re alive at least.”

Georgia wasn’t sure what that meant, but to know they were alive was enough for now.

“Where are they?” Freya asked.

“That’s not important right now. I just thought you’d want to know they’re both okay.”

“Like you care what we think,” Freya told the woman curtly.

Elsa gave her a hard look. “Don’t be petulant, Freya. It doesn’t suit you. I’m going out to collect them now. If all goes well, your little family will be reunited soon.”

“Don’t hurt them, Elsa,” Georgia said. “Just don’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Georgia,” Elsa told her. “I was born to lead, you know. That was what the Tuatha fashioned us to be. The trouble is, you fucking people don’t seem to have any idea how to follow. And so things get messy. It really is infuriating.”

Elsa turned on her heels and made to leave. “Kurt and Bernie will see to your needs while I’m gone. I’ve instructed them to bring you food and refreshments, and to escort you to the bathroom when you require it. Simon’s ever so keen to say hello, but I’ve warned him not to bother you. You’ll thank me for that, I’m sure.” She stood in the doorway and turned back briefly. “You see how courteous I can be? When we’re all together again, we’ll make a fresh start. Sadie and Millie will help me with my work, you and Freya can go back to tinkering with your bees and flowers, or whatever it is you do, and we can all be a little more civilised. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Without waiting for a reply, Elsa left the room, closing and locking the door behind her.

“What an absolute cow,” Georgia muttered.

5

Sometime later, Georgia was rapping on the door of their makeshift prison.

After what seemed like an age, Kurt unlocked it and peered in, looking as if he’d just woken up. “What?” he grunted.

“We need a pee,” Georgia said.

Kurt glared at her and Freya for a moment, then nodded begrudgingly. “You first, then the kid. Try anything and I’ll smack you.”

Kurt led Georgia down the corridor to a small water closet, clutching her arm the whole way. She closed and locked the door, her attention immediately drawn to the sash window above the toilet, and with it a small ray of hope. As quietly as possible, she flipped the catch and pushed the lower sash up. It opened six inches or so, but wouldn’t move any further than that. She tried pulling the top sash down, but that wouldn’t budge at all.

She knew from experience that these types of windows were a pain in the arse to maintain. If the hinges and ropes weren’t oiled on a regular basis, and decades of paint allowed to accumulate, they would never operate as intended. With screwdrivers and no small amount of brute force, she probably could have got it open, but there was nothing to be done here and now, especially with Kurt outside. And even if she could escape, there was no way she was leaving without Freya.

“Shit,” she hissed, then parked her arse on the toilet to relieve herself.

When it was Freya’s turn, the girl practically sprinted to the toilet, Kurt hot on her heels.

“Slow down, you little brat.”

“I’m gonna piss myself, dickhead!”

Kurt seemed to find that highly amusing, hooting with laughter. Freya turned and gave him the finger, then closed and locked the WC door behind her. That only made him laugh all the more.

She barely had enough time to push her knickers round her knees and plant her bum on the loo. “Oh, thank God,” she sighed in relief, finally able to unloose. She closed her eyes while her bladder emptied, and was only faintly aware of the purring noise behind her. When she turned her head, Billy Buckham was sitting on the window sill, regarding her with the cool indifference only a cat can muster. Freya let out a startled cry.

“What’s going on in there?” she heard Kurt grumble.

Freya racked her brains for some excuse. “I pissed on the toilet seat, if you must know,” she called back.

“Just hurry it up.”

Freya finished her business, then pulled her leggings back up. “What’re you doing here, Billy?” she whispered to the cat.

Billy gave her a languid blink, as if to convey that it was none of her concern; that she should carry on with her day and let him do the same.

“You’ll get caught if you stay here,” Freya warned him, trying to push him back through the small gap in the open window. Billy swatted at her hand, drawing blood. “Ow, you arsehole!”

“Who you talkin’ to?” Kurt called, rapping on the door.

“Shut up, I’m washing my hands!”

“If you’re not out here in the next few seconds, I’m gonna kick the fuckin’ door down.”

“Billy, go!” Freya hissed. “Please!”

Billy wouldn’t budge. Neither would the window when Freya made a last ditch attempt to open it wider. There was no way she could squeeze through a gap that small, and even if she did, she would surely plummet to the ground in the absence of something to hold on to.

Out of time, she unlocked the door and glared at Kurt, hoping she could draw attention away from Sadie’s cat. “You know, it’s actually quite rude to stand outside a toilet and harass a lady like that. I’m telling Elsa when she gets back. I don’t think she’ll be very pleased, do you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go back to your room, so I don’t have to listen to you whine anymore.”

Billy strolled out of the WC and padded up the hallway. Inexplicably, Kurt didn’t even seem to register that  a cat was there, though there was no possible way he could have failed to see him.

“What?” the thug said, following Freya’s line of sight with a frown.

Freya shook her head. “Nothing.”

When she looked again, Billy was nowhere to be seen.

6

Millie sat curled up on Hailey and Derek’s couch wrapped in a quilt, a hot water bottle pressed against her chest. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin warm and clammy. It hadn’t been long before the events of the day had begun to take their toll, leaving the eight-year-old aching and exhausted. If that wasn’t enough, sneezes and snuffles had set in, a sure sign of a cold, no doubt brought on by their unplanned dip in the ocean, followed by a breezy trek up to the lighthouse in damp clothes.

Hailey had called on the local doctor, Madeline, to check on Millie, then insisted on washing and drying Sadie’s and Millie’s clothes. She lent Sadie a sweatshirt and a pair of lounge pants (the two women were of a similar size and build), but Millie had settled for the warmth of the quilt, and not much else besides her knickers.

Madeline placed a hand upon the girl’s brow. In the years that Hailey had been absent from Morcant, the woman had lost little of her statuesque beauty, and none of her chic style. Tonight she wore a tight fitting black skirt and a white blouse, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.

Hailey knew it for what it was: a carefully cultivated image, a layer of elegance and sophistication designed to hide a seedier truth – Madeline Guiliani was an unrepentant sexual deviant. She had been having sex with her own daughter since the girl was knee high. She’d also seduced an eleven-year-old Hailey, though Hailey had never held that against the woman. Even to this day, some of her most powerful masturbatory fantasies were memories of kinky afternoons with the perverted doctor and her little girl.

No, it was Madeline’s corruption of Rita that had soured Hailey’s disposition towards her. Rita had been little more than a plaything for the woman, an object of revenge for her husband’s death at sea. Perhaps Rita would never have ended up in this predicament if Madeline had stood with her in female solidarity from the very beginning.

Or maybe she was always destined to end up in a cocoon at the top of a lighthouse, Hailey considered. I can hardly blame Madeline for that.

“Well, you’re certainly very warm,” the doctor told Millie. “Let’s pull that quilt down a bit, so I can take your temperature.”

“Don’t thermometers usually go in the mouth?” Hailey asked. “Or, er, up the bum?”

Millie looked somewhat alarmed at the prospect of a glass tube up her bottom. Thermometers weren’t really her cup of tea, not since she’d been very small and another doctor had unceremoniously deposited one up her backside when she was entirely unprepared.

“I don’t want a thernomonom up my b-b-b—” But before she could finish, Millie screwed her face up and erupted into another sneeze.

“It’s a digital thermometer,” Madeline told her with a look of distaste. “It goes under the armpit. Now slip the duvet down for me, and don’t be a baby.”

“I see your bedside manner hasn’t improved much,” Hailey said, an edge to her voice.

Madeline shot her a cool look. “I’m afraid I don’t have many patients left to practice on these days.”

Millie let the quilt fall away from her bare upper half. Madeline’s eyes wandered over the child’s boyish chest. “Oh, my. This brings back memories. Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Hailey muttered, peering back at the closed lounge door. Sadie was in the kitchen with Derek, planning their trip back to the mainland. They could walk in any second.

Isla, Madeline’s teenage daughter, was sitting next to Millie with her knees tucked beneath her. She blew an enormous bubble with her gum. When it’d reached the limits of its elasticity, it exploded, covering the lower half of her face with a pink mask. She peeled it away, and Millie joined the teen’s chorus of giggles until another sneeze claimed her.

Madeline tucked the thermometer into the pit of one of Millie’s arms and held it there for a long moment, the thumb of her other hand brushing discreetly against the child’s nipple so Hailey couldn’t see what was happening.

The doctor’s sleight-of-hand had been refined and perfected over the years – a touch here, a touch there. Never enough to arouse suspicion, at least until Madeline could be certain that a little one’s mummy was conducive to the idea of a bit of naughty fun. And there had been quite a few willing participants over the years, enough that Madeline had begun to suspect the rulebook on female sexuality wasn’t quite as definitive as the world believed.

Isla was well aware of what her devious mother was up to, though. “Do you like that, Millie?” she asked the girl in hushed tones.

Millie smiled and nodded. The doctor lady was pretty, and smelled nice. True, she was feeling rough as a badger’s arse (one of Mr. Dalliard’s favourite sayings), but that gentle stroke against her nipple felt awfully soothing.

“She’ll put her hand into your knickers if you want her to. Won’t you, Mum?”

“Don’t you bloody dare!” hissed Hailey. “Just hurry up and take her temperature.”

Isla gave a pout, then poked her tongue out at Hailey.

Madeline smiled thinly. She removed the thermometer from beneath Millie’s arm. “You have a little bit of a fever, sweetheart. Hailey or your mum can collect some decongestants from the pharmacy tomorrow.”

“Sadie isn’t my mum, she’s my teacher,” Millie said.

“Oh? Are you on a school trip? How did you end up naked in Hailey and Derek’s house?”

“It’s complicated,” Hailey said.

Just then, Sadie entered the lounge with Derek. She and Madeline regarded one another with interest.

A popular theory states that when two beautiful women meet for the first time, they’ll either scratch each other’s eyes out or fuck one another senseless. Suffice to say, there was no danger of violence in Derek and Hailey’s lounge that evening. The signals were easy enough to interpret, had anyone bothered to look.

“As I was just telling your student,” Madeline told Sadie, drawing closer, “she has a small fever, but it’s nothing to be too concerned about. Keep her warm and rested.”

Sadie didn’t think either of them had the luxury of warmth and rest, but nodded anyway. “Thanks for coming over here at such a late hour,” she said, her eyes flickering down to admire the doctor’s cleavage, the first couple of buttons undone on the woman’s blouse. “I really appreciate it.”

Madeline followed Sadie’s line of sight with an arched brow. “I’ve no doubt,” she cooed.

There was an unusual atmosphere in the lounge. Some indefinable dynamic at play. Sadie let her senses snake out tentatively: A scintilla of intimacy passed between Hailey and the pink-haired teenager. The doctor regarded Millie with an interest that was all too familiar. Hailey scowled at Madeline, animosity festering there. Intriguing. But it was none of her concern, and there was no time to dwell on such things.

The only one who seemed to have nothing to hide was Derek. In the few hours since Sadie had met the man, she’d developed quite a soft spot for him. There was a gruff honesty about the old seaman that demanded you take him as you found him or not at all.

Derek pulled Isla into a rough hug, then saluted Madeline. The doctor’s usual shrewd regard softened somewhat. She rolled her eyes, then flipped back her own salute.

“Isla’s fun,” Millie said when doctor and daughter had departed. “I like her.”

“Oh, she’s a hoot a minute,” Hailey agreed wryly.

Derek stretched his arms behind his head and gave a loud yawn. “Time for some beauty sleep, I reckon!”

“You could use it…” Hailey shot back.

Derek threw his head back and boomed out a great laugh. “See how I gets treated in me own house, Millie? It’s an injustice, I tell ye!” He turned to Sadie. “We’ll set out at first light. I can get you as far as Lydney, but you’ll need to make your own way back home from there.”

Sadie smiled. “Thank you, Derek.”

“And I don’t keep a lock on me bedroom door, so no funny business, all right?”

“Uncle Derek!” Hailey barked.

“Oh, I’ll do my best to restrain myself,” Sadie replied with a chuckle.

Derek gave another belly laugh, then left the girls to it.

Hailey shook her head in embarrassment. “You can’t take him anywhere. Listen, I can sleep on the couch if you two want my room.”

Sadie waved a dismissive hand at the offer. “I wouldn’t dream of it. We’ll be fine on the couch, honestly.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure. We have an inflatable mattress Millie can use. I’ll fetch you some bedding, too.”

While Hailey was doing that, Sadie took a place next to Millie. She pushed the girl’s lank hair back behind her ears. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“I’m okay,” Millie said. “It’s just a cold.”

“Mmm. What a kerfuffle we’ve got ourselves into.”

“Sadie, will Mummy and Freya be alright?”

Sadie wasn’t sure how to answer that. Would they be alright in that dark, damp basement, at the mercy of a dark witch and her sadistic, nappy-wearing husband? It didn’t bode well, and that was without taking into account Sadie’s lack of any kind of rescue plan. She still had to somehow breach the wall around Derwold before even considering what came after that.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” the witch said, trying to reassure herself as much as Millie. “Tomorrow we’ll head back to Derwold and find Astris. Then the three of us will march up to the manor and lick some arse!”

“I think you mean kick some arse,” Millie said with a giggle.

“Exactly, my apprentice!”

7

Georgia awoke for the umpteenth time that night. There was some kind of ruckus out in the hall – raised voices, shoes upon floorboards. When the door to their makeshift prison swung open a few minutes later, she discovered the source of all the hullabaloo: Simon Derwold.

He appeared to be wearing one of Elsa’s frocks, and he’d had a fair bash at applying some of her makeup, too. Georgia thought he could’ve used a few pointers.

“Mr. Derwold, sir!” she heard an alarmed sounding Bernie hiss from somewhere behind Simon. “Mrs. Hart said they’re to be left alone, sir. She was very clear about it, she was.”

Simon had a big grin on his lipstick-smeared face. “They’re guests, Bernie! It’d be incredibly rude of me not to greet guests, wouldn’t it? Hmm?”

“You’ll get us into trouble, sir,” Kurt pitched in, although he didn’t seem quite as concerned about the situation as Bernie. The burly man extended a hand to the Lord of the Manor, but Simon slapped it away as if it carried the plague.

“Don’t touch me, you brute! I’ll tell!”

“Be reasonable, Mr. Derwold,” Kurt grumbled. “Elsa gave us very clear instructions that these two weren’t to be bothered tonight. It’s our jobs on the line here, sir.”

“Elsa’s not the King of Derwold, I am! I’m the fucking King of Derwold! I pay your wages, not Elsa! Actually, do I pay your wages? Well, I’m not sure, to be honest, but that’s besides the point.” Simon began stamping his feet like a petulant child. “I’m the King of Derwold and it’s my job to greet guests at Castle Derwold!”

Kurt and Bernie stood in the doorway, seemingly unsure how to proceed. Georgia doubted anything in their job description would’ve prepared the two men for a madman in a dress.

“Right, have it your own way, sir,” Kurt said at last, and ushered himself and Bernie away.

Georgia felt an acute stab of panic when the two men departed, and was about to shout out for them not to leave. But Simon had already closed the door behind him. He regarded them both with a sheepish smile. “Can you believe the insolence? I mean, really! What a pair of absolute rotters! I can only apologise.”

Georgia, now standing next to the couch with a stunned Freya beside her, knew she had to play this carefully. If Simon had really killed the vicar (and thankfully, Sadie had not gone into any great detail concerning that), then he was obviously a very dangerous man. The fact that he was also clearly insane only made their situation that much worse.

“You just can’t get the staff…” Georgia said with a weak smile, praying that the fear wasn’t evident in her voice.

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Simon replied with a chuckle. He reached a hand out to Georgia. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced yet. I’m Simon, and you’re Georgia. Are you?”

Georgia took the hand offered to her and gave it a hearty shake. “Er, yes. I’m Georgia. Lovely to meet you, Simon.”

Simon pointed to Freya with a delighted grin. “There she is! Lady Freya! No introductions necessary here. Freya and I are old friends, you see. Quite the frequent visitor to Derwold Manor of late, am I right, Freya?”

Freya glanced at her mother briefly, and all Georgia could do was flash her eyes, hoping the meaning was clear enough: For God’s sake, just go with it!

“Uh, yeah,” Freya said in a small voice.

Simon paced the room, regarding each of its stuffed occupants in turn. “Ah, my old friends. Each one frozen in time. Memories of a happier life. Of a more civilised age. If I remember correctly…” He reached behind a stuffed mongoose and retrieved something about the size of a human fist. “Ah, yes, here we are.”

He brought the object to Freya. “This is Monty.”

Monty was apparently a dead mouse encased in a sphere of glass and mounted on a small plastic base. The poor thing looked like it’d been teleported inside a snow globe.

“Monty was my very first friend. I loved him very much. But Monty could often be a rather naughty little mousie, and sometimes it was necessary for me to give him a jolly good talking to. I’m sure Monty would’ve gone on to live a very long and fruitful life, had he cleaned up his act, but, well, I was only a wee lad back then, and I was very curious to know how long a mouse could survive underwater.”

Simon pushed the globe into Freya’s hands and closed her fingers around it. “Monty is yours now, if you’d do me the great honour of accepting this humble gift.”

Freya regarded the mummified mouse with barely concealed disgust. “Um. Thanks?”

Simon reached out and jiggled the globe to and fro. “You’re welcome, Lady Freya!” he said in a high-pitched voice.

“Ha, good one, Simon,” Georgia said. “That was nice of Simon, wasn’t it, Freya?”

“Yeah… terrific.”

Simon clapped his hands together. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I shall let you both get some sleep. I do hope Elsa finds Sadie and Millie. I’ll visit again, if you’d like me to.”

“Oh, yes. That sounds great, Simon,” Georgia told him.

Simon lingered in the doorway a moment. When he turned back, his near permanent grin was gone. Whatever replaced it was cold and hard, and utterly devoid of humanity. “I don’t much like broccoli,” he said morosely. “But I’m doing my best to eat it like a good boy.”

Then he was gone.

“Mum,” Freya said, after a moment of stunned silence. “We really need to get out of here.”

8

Millie opened her eyes in the dark of Hailey and Derek’s lounge.

Someone was calling to her, the voice faint but insistent. When her eyes had adjusted a little more, she peered back at Sadie’s vague shape on the couch. Her teacher was deep in slumber, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Millie pulled back the blanket and crept from the room, dressed in nothing but her knickers and t-shirt.

Child of the Tuatha… Come to me…

She could hear whalesong off in the distance somewhere. The sound tugged at her, impossible to resist.

Millie opened the front door of the cottage, then shuffled across the yard towards the lighthouse. Its glass canopy was awash with a strange light, a beacon that seemed to lure instead of warn away, as lighthouses were surely meant to do.

Come to me...

Hadn’t she heard those words before, from some other place? Not from a lighthouse, but an ancient tree? The bearer of those words had wanted to keep her for itself, hadn’t it? Wanted to draw her into the tree forever. Did this one mean her harm, as well? The words were honeyed and alluring, and Millie didn’t think there was any ill intent behind them, but hadn’t she thought the same about that other voice once?

She entered the lighthouse and climbed its many steps to the top. Finally, she clambered up into the light chamber.

She found herself in a bedroom. It had a little window and pretty wallpaper on the walls. There was a naked woman sprawled out on a bed, her dark hair styled like one of those old movie stars that Millie had seen on TV. Her figure was that of the hourglass, her breasts large and pillowy.

The woman propped herself up with an elbow. “Hey, kid.”

“Hello,” Millie said back. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Rita.”

Rita? Wasn’t Rita the thing inside the cocoon? Or had the cocoon just been a dream?

“You’re a very pretty little girl, Millie,” Rita cooed. “I happen to like pretty girls.”

“How do you know my name?” Millie asked.

“Isn’t that what the witch called you?” Rita said. “I haven’t seen one like you for a very long time. I’ve been waiting for you. I think you might be able to help me with a little problem.”

“Problem?”

Rita dipped two fingers into the dusky crease between her legs, making them slick with her essence, then swirled them through the air. The aroma quickly found its way to Millie’s nose, its thick musk more potent and seductive than anything her senses had ever experienced. “Come closer,” Rita said, and Millie found herself padding barefoot over to the bed.

Rita brushed a sticky finger across Millie’s top lip, and it was almost enough to make the eight-year-old’s eyes roll back in their sockets.

“Oh, that smells so nice…” Millie murmured.

Rita tittered gleefully. “Let’s get that t-shirt off, shall we?”

She drew the child’s top up and over her head, then pressed her pillowy breasts into the little one’s boyish chest. Millie slung both arms around the woman’s shoulders and mewled in satisfaction, the warmth and softness of Rita’s tits delightful against her bare skin.

Rita cupped Millie’s bum through her panties, kneading the firm little cheeks. “It’s been so long,” she murmured. “I never felt so filled with desire as I did when I was in this form. Madeline taught me all the delights of human lust and depravity. Such a heady concoction. Nothing at all like the mindless animal coupling of Selkie.”

“Mmm,” Millie hummed, rubbing her body against Rita’s voluptuous form. She wasn’t sure what the woman was talking about, but that was okay.

“Stand up on the bed for me, Millie,” Rita said. “I want to watch you take those pretty panties off.”

Millie clambered up onto the bed and inched her lilac knickers down while Rita sat on her haunches and squeezed her breasts together.

“Oh, look at that beautiful pussy,” Rita cooed when Millie’s panties had reached her knees. “So smooth and bare.”

“My mum likes it, too,” Millie said, and briefly wondered if that was information she should be sharing.

“I can’t say I blame her,” Rita chuckled. “Let me help you take those knickers all the way off, sweetie. Then we can get down to the nasty stuff.”

Rita slipped the panties down to Millie’s ankles, letting the child step out of them.

Millie couldn’t help herself – grasping the woman’s thick, dark hair, she thrust her smooth vulva into Rita’s face. “I – I’m sorry if it’s not very polite, Rita, but I really need you to lick me, okay? Mummy likes licking me there a lot. So does Sadie, and my big sister— Oooh!”

Rita lashed her tongue up and down the girl’s pussy, the fresh, tart savour of child cunt invoking memories of lazy afternoons with Madeline and her six-year-old daughter Isla, and later with a younger version of Hailey. She stabbed her tongue into Millie’s hole, and the little girl welcomed it with a whimper, grinding herself against the woman’s mouth.

And then Millie was coming, white hot waves crashing against every nerve ending in her body, the intensity of it making her growl like something feral. Her thrusts petered out until there were none left, and she collapsed to her knees upon the bed.

She’d never come that hard before, had never felt the need to. Her body was entirely capable of such pleasure, but her childish mind had rarely made full use of its capacity, usually content to fool around until boredom or indifference set in. Some days, playing with her mother and sister, she didn’t climax at all.

But now the smell of this mysterious woman, so thick and rich, had ensnared her. And with it, Millie’s arousal stirred once more. It tapped into something old and primaeval, some part of her wanting to penetrate and burrow into her new lover’s cunt, to be inside Rita, to explore her on a subatomic level.

And therein lay the magic that Rita sought. There was still a chance, slim though it was.

Rita sat back against the headboard and slung her legs wide for the child. “Show me what you can do, kid.”

Millie was all too eager to put her mouth where that wonderful aroma originated. She flicked her tongue up and down the sour flesh, nuzzling at Rita’s folds.

“Fuck yeah,” Rita groaned. “Eat my cunt, little girl. So fucking nasty.”

Millie found the woman’s clit, already popped free of its fleshy sheath, then took it between her lips, swirling her tongue round it while she clumsily stuffed two fingers into the hole below.

Rita pinched her dark nipples, mouth set into a snarl while the girl went at her. She kept herself from climaxing for as long as she could, but finally gave in to her body’s demand and came in Millie’s face, the cream of her passion oozing down over the girl’s mouth and chin.

Millie didn’t seem much inclined to stop licking. That was fine with Rita. Reaching down, she tugged at the child’s shoulder. Millie understood what the woman wanted, and swung her legs over Rita’s head until the two of them were mouth to cunt.

Rita prised open Millie’s bum cheeks and went to work on her arsehole, tracing the little pink confection with her tongue. She slipped a finger into the tight hole below and pumped it back and forth while she pleasured the girl’s anus.

Millie brushed her fingers over Rita’s clit, breathing in the woman’s thick aroma.

When the two of them had come several more times, and the muscles in Millie’s mouth were beginning to ache, the eight-year-old twisted her body round and let her weight settle back on Rita.

Rita kissed the child on the mouth. “I don’t have much time left, Millie. I can feel myself slipping away. There’s just one more thing I need from you, if the Elders spoke true of Old Blood magic.“

She twisted her hips until their pussies slotted together. Millie moved against the woman, brushing back and forth. Rita arched her pelvis to press them even more tightly together. Their fluids mingled, creating a liquid bridge between them. They both cried out in ecstasy, and finally it was done.

A seed had been planted. Whether it would take root or not would remain to be seen.

“You must not be here when I wake,“ Rita said, stroking the child’s hair.

“Why?“ Millie murmured.

Rita whispered in her ear, “I’ll hurt you.“

9

Elsa stood on the beach and gazed out across the water at the peninsula she had once called home, visible in the darkness only by a few street lamps and half-lit houses. It had taken her two hours to drive here; now it was almost morning.

Morcant-On-Sea had been another life; another person. A weak, frightened little girl called Frances Mooney had lived in one of those houses, beaten and tortured by her mother and her mother’s vile boyfriend.

Then Frances had begun menstruating, and the power that had lain dormant within her quickened. She had used it willingly enough. But without mastery or self control, and driven by rage and fear, the sorcery was a terrible thing to behold. Frances had turned her tormentors’ insides to liquid until they bled from every pore and every orifice. Then, just before they could escape into the soothing release of death, she’d made them combust.

Surrounded by blood and fire, serenaded by their screams of agony, her rebirth was complete. Frances Mooney became Elsa Hart, not yet in name, but certainly in sentiment.

But there was still something of Frances left in Elsa. And only now, having returned to this wretched place, did she realise it. She felt the old weakness bubbling beneath the surface, the uncertainty threatening to swallow her up. It sickened her.

What was Morcant-On-Sea if not a withered limb? A useless, burdensome thing that served no purpose other than to hinder. Better to cut it away and be done with it.

She had come to find Sadie and Millie and bring them under her command. But now she knew there was something else left to do that was equally as important. If she was to kill Frances Mooney for good, Morcant-On-Sea would need to be wiped off the map.

Elsa fondly regarded the magpie sitting on her shoulder. It nuzzled at her face and she kissed it on the beak. “My sweet Minerva. You’re so precious to me. And that’s why you must stay here.“

Will come! Will help!

No, my friend. Not this time. There is grim work to be done. Fly now. Fly!

Minerva fluttered her graceful wings and took to the sky.

Elsa made her way down to the shoreline. Raising her arms skywards, she began to summon the drowned dead.

On to Chapter Ten!

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

by Rachael Yukey

Rainbows, they only laugh when you cry
Lightning has struck you not once but twice
Warfare, it will subside when you are blind
Love’s within your reach and there’s no time
Queensryche, 2022

Diary of Mallory Kalvornek, June 4th, 2022

Back home in Dickson! Actually, I was just here a couple of months ago, but not long enough to really appreciate it. Julie and I flew up when Nettie’s dad died, drove to Bronning for the funeral, and returned to Colorado the next day. And guess what: in about ten minutes we’ll be joining the driveway boarding queue to make the three-hour drive to Bronning all over again. We just got out of the car last night after a long-ass drive from Boulder, so I can’t say I’m anxious to climb back into any kind of vehicle—even one with Julie standing in as the sexy stewardess.

I haven’t kept a diary since the summer of 2007, when I was twelve years old. So why, you might ask, am I taking the pen up again now? Truth be told, I’m not clear on this myself. Maybe it’s because I’m slowing down for the first time in forever. I have a PhD in music, a teaching position at a good university, and a rock-solid relationship with the best domestic partner I could ask for. I turn down more requests to perform than I could possibly accept, and I’m starting to earn some recognition as a composer. I’ve reached a comfortable plateau in life.

Maybe I’m starting a new diary because our vacation is triggering so many memories, even though it hasn’t really begun yet. For some reason, that first year with Julie is bouncing around in my head. I struggled so much with everything! Losing my faith, accepting myself as gay (my bisexual side would emerge a few years later), falling in love. It was the most difficult year of my life—but also, in lots of ways, the best.

Or maybe it’s this intangible feeling that I’m on the cusp of something important. I’m not sure, really—this summer is meant to be a vacation, but I wonder if it’s really that simple.

There’s unfinished business I’ve got to deal with. I need to reconnect with Mom, for one thing. We were the best of friends (and occasional sex partners) in the years following her divorce from my father, but she’s been cold and distant for the past three or four years now, and I’m not sure what to make of that. Whatever’s wrong, it’s time to have it out with her; try as best I can to make things right.

Speaking of Dad—well, I’m still processing that. The adrenal gland cancer that took his life at the age of forty-eight was shocking, unexpected, and cruel. We were never close when I was little, but things changed after he split with Mom, and he eventually came to terms with my choices and my sexuality. We became friends. He even grew close to Julie’s father Jason, and they became hunting and fishing buddies.

Now it’s time, past time really, to make some hard decisions. Ownership of the family farm fell to me when Dad died. The house I grew up in, almost two hundred acres of untillable woodlands, and a large amount of cropland. I’ve been renting out the latter, along with the grain storage facility, and letting Jason hunt the woods in the fall. But it was always a temporary solution, and I’m committed to deciding on a final disposition of the property before the summer is out.

Our plan for the first week home was to spend time with Julie’s family. I was really looking forward to it; in many ways, I was closer to them than my own parents during much of my preteen and teen years. But at the last minute, Jason received an invitation to be keynote speaker at an EMS conference in Las Vegas. He accepted—and his wife Lisa, along with their daughter Victoria, chose to go along for the ride. I can’t fault them for that; who turns down a family vacation in Vegas? But it left Julie and me to our own devices on our first weekend home.

So we decided to visit Julie’s cousin Nettie Hastings in Bronning. If you read the diary I kept when I was twelve, you know Nettie, but she’s not the same traumatized little kid you remember. Far from it. She’s twenty-six years old, a paramedic, and dipping her toes into the investigative line of work, assisting the DEA with some of their more difficult cases. There’s a retirement party planned for the director of her local volunteer EMS service this afternoon, and we’re expecting to be there in time for it. Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder is taking over the position, and will be giving a speech.

Sigghhh… Julie just asked if I’m ready to get my ass in gear. I love her more than life itself, but I’ve never gotten used to her boundless energy and enthusiasm. Did I mention that I do NOT relish the idea of getting into a car at this moment in time?

***

“Robbie’s resemblance to Yoda extends far beyond his advanced age and his large, hairy ears.” Terry Wilder paused for effect, letting the brief spate of laughter run its course. Resplendent in a salmon-colored sports jacket and jaunty black fedora, he seemed at ease, hands resting lightly on the edges of the podium. The Minnesota breeze tugged at his shoulder-length hair.

The day had blossomed to warmer-than-expected temps, and the party had been hastily moved from the fire hall to the large, grassy field immediately behind. The port-a-stage from which Terry spoke had been erected at the far end of the expanse, just short of Marshal Avenue. Over his shoulder and across the street, the long, low-slung red-brick nursing home blighted the landscape. Weeds sprouted from the cracks in the cordoned-off parking lot, and the Edmunds Realty sign planted on the overgrown front lawn had begun to fade with age.

Terry, favored his audience with an ingratiating smile, then plunged ahead. “Much like the fabled green oven mitt of Star Wars fame, Robbie’s presence has always been one of calm, wisdom, and fortitude. If he ever becomes agitated or overwhelmed, I’ve certainly never seen it. His competence and leadership have upheld the highest standards for far longer than I’ve been here, and led to Bronning Ambulance receiving awards for exceptional emergency care every single year during his directorship. That’s thirty-two years of honors, folks, including no fewer than seven awards for best volunteer service in the state. No other such agency can lay claim to more than three.”

He paused again as a round of applause swept the field. Julie Hanson, standing just behind the last row of folding chairs, extracted her arm from her partner’s waist and clapped along. She didn’t know Robbie Wachinsky from Adam, and had only briefly met Terry Wilder a couple of months before—but he was an engaging speaker, and being out of the car seemed reason enough for applause all by itself. She wanted a shower, or at least a private moment to extricate her undies from the crack of her butt, but for the moment the sunshine and warm spring breeze would suffice. She and Mallory had pulled into Bronning just moments before the ceremony began.

“It falls to me now,” Wilder was saying, “to shoulder the burden Robbie has carried so well during his lengthy tenure. What do I bring to the table, aside from prodigious good looks and charm?” Another pause; another pattering of laughter. “To be honest, I’m not so sure myself. I do know I have very large shoes to fill, and can only do my best to carry on the tradition of leadership and standard of excellence that Robert Wachinsky has set for Bronning Ambulance. And on that note, the time has come to break bread in Robbie’s honor. Pastor Dan from First Lutheran is going to lead a prayer, and then we can all dig in. Pastor?”

Julie and Mallory applauded with the rest of the crowd as Terry Wilder strode to the side of the platform, making way for a bearded young man wearing a button-down shirt and tie. The assemblage bowed their heads, and Julie followed suit, noting out of the corner of her eye that Mallory was resolutely keeping her head high and her eyes open. Julie was more than content to do as the Romans do when in Rome, but Mallory’s childhood struggle for independence from her Evangelical upbringing had left its mark. Observing any sort of religious practice, even on the surface, was a point on which she would not bend. Julie took Mallory’s hand and squeezed.

The prayer was mercifully short, and lines began to form at the potluck tables. Julie turned at once towards the open back door of the fire hall. “Bet there’s a bathroom in there,” she said, smiling down at her partner.

Mallory snickered. “And here I thought I was the only one who needed to pee.” They made for the hall at a fast walk, still holding hands. As always, the pair turned heads. Eye flicked towards Julie’s long, shapely legs, amply on display courtesy of her short flower-print sundress. Mallory’s diminutive, curvy form drew just as many looks, buttocks on display under tight designer jeans, her low-cut orange blouse showing just the right amount of cleavage.

“Think there’ll be any food left for us?” said Mallory.

Julie giggled. “I think we’ll be okay with a quick pee break. Did you see those tables? I thought they were going to collapse from the weight of all those eats.”

Mallory raised an eyebrow. “Is that a structural observation based on obscure math that can only be calculated by someone with a master’s degree in engineering?” They both laughed. Julie let go of Mallory’s hand, preceding her through the fire hall door. Julie, whose stepmother was mayor of a little slice of nowhere pretty much exactly like this one, raised her eyebrows at the almost-new condition of the red-on-grey steel-sided structure. She supposed its predecessor must have been in poor condition indeed for the city council in a burg like this to vote through the money for a new building, and wondered if some state funding might have been taken advantage of.

Minutes later they emerged, Mallory in the lead. Julie squinted in the bright sunlight, casting her eyes about for a familiar face. She felt lighter and more relaxed with an empty bladder, to say nothing of her panties no longer being wedged between her buttocks.

Mallory was the first to catch sight of someone they recognized. “There’s Nettie,” she said, tugging on Julie’s sleeve and pointing towards a picnic table off to the right. A virtual carbon copy of Julie sat hunched over a plate of food, a shorter, ample-bosomed redhead parked across the table from her.

Nettie was Julie’s cousin, but they could have been twins. They shared the same lean, six-foot frame, and thick black hair. They were distinguishable mostly by affectation; Nettie wore her hair long and flowing, whereas Julie had recently adopted a pixie cut. The frames of Nettie’s glasses were orange; Julie had always favored purple rims.

Hand in hand, Julie and Mallory set off across the grassy field, picking their way through the throng. Nettie caught sight of them as they approached and waved them over.

“There you are,” she said, standing as they reached her table. “I saw you guys when you got here, but the ceremony was starting, and then you disappeared before I could say hi.” She spread her arms, and they came together in a three-way hug.

“We didn’t get a chance to pee before the speeches,” Julie explained, squeezing tightly.

“Yeah, if Terry had talked for much longer, I’d have a big stain down the front of my pants,” said Mallory.

Nettie laughed, releasing them and backing off a step. “I’m glad you could make it. This is my girlfriend, Hannah.” The redhead was standing now, stepping forward with hand extended. “Hannah, this is my cousin Julie, and her partner Mallory.”

Julie glanced at the outstretched hand, then looked into Hannah’s eyes and gave her best smile. “It’s a pleasure, Hannah. Can I hug you?”

Hannah grinned back, then stepped into Julie’s waiting arms. Julie felt a light tingling as the shorter woman’s ample breasts pressed against hers. They parted, and Hannah turned towards Mallory, who was already opening her arms.

“You two should go get some food,” said Nettie as Mallory and Hannah embraced. “Terry and his girls are coming over to eat with us, but it’s a big table. There’ll be room.”

Sure enough, by the time Julie and Mallory returned with heaping plates, Terry Wilder was seated at the table, holding forth on Walt Whitman and the rise of a distinctively American brand of poetry. His four daughters stuffed their faces as their dad chattered on. Julie was damned if she could remember any of their names.

Oh wait—the oldest must be Halee. The one who got shot. 

Halee, Julie couldn’t help but notice, was already ripening into a beautiful young woman. How old is she? Maybe thirteen? Her hair was dyed jet-black with blue highlights, budding breasts just barely visible under an Iron Maiden t-shirt.

Terry broke off his monologue, head lifting to give the two approaching women his full attention. “Julie and Mallory, right? We met a couple of months ago.” Julie seated herself next to him at the end of the table, Mallory settling in across from her.

Looking across the table, Julie caught the eye of the gothed-out beauty to Mallory’s left. “Halee, isn’t it?”

Halee met her eyes boldly, overtly dropped her gaze to Julie’s chest for a moment, then looked back up. “Yup. Good to see you again.” Julie raised mental eyebrows at the directness of the girl’s gaze; the way she emphasized the word ‘you’. Damn… is she flirting with me?

Julie turned her attention to the girl on Halee’s left. “I’m sorry—I don’t remember the rest of your names. I met too many people at the funeral reception last month. You are—”

“Dawn,” the little girl piped up. She had long chestnut hair, high cheekbones, and an endearing smile.

“And how old are you, Dawn?”

“I’m eight.”

Julie leaned forward, craning her neck to look past Terry, to the two girls seated between him and Nettie.

Terry grinned. “Sound off, you two.”

The little towheaded girl next to him smiled shyly and said “I’m Maya, and I’m six.” She then proceeded to stuff four fries in her mouth at once.

“Oh, gross, Maya!” exclaimed the girl next to her. “Naomi. I turned eleven last Tuesday.”

Terry was looking at Julie sidelong. “You’ve changed hairstyles. It’s lovely.”

Julie allowed herself a smile as she dipped a french fry in ranch. “Thank you.”

“Notwithstanding that change, it’s nothing short of astounding how closely you resemble your cousin over there,” he went on, jerking his thumb towards Nettie.

“They looked alike even when they were kids,” said Mallory, scooping up a forkful of potato salad. “Except that Nettie was shorter than Julie. She caught up in her teens.”

Terry looked across the table at Mallory, capturing her eyes as she shoveled the food into her mouth, favoring her with a lopsided grin. “I wasn’t aware you’d known these two for that long.”

Mallory blushed lightly under his scrutiny, swallowing her food with a visible effort. “I’ve known Julie since we were ten,” she said. “I met Nettie when she was almost eleven, and Julie and I were either twelve or close to it.” She looked down at her plate, blush deepening, then tipped her eyes across the table to her partner, her head tilted slightly.

Julie returned the look with a slight smile and a nod. She’d never felt the slightest bit threatened by Mallory’s bisexuality; after all, it wasn’t like they’d ever been sexually exclusive. Mallory’s very occasional hunger for a man usually manifested itself exactly like this—suddenly, when she found herself attracted to a particular guy. She never acted on her desire without asking, and Julie had never refused her.

Wilder glanced between the two women, and Julie had a feeling the exchange hadn’t been lost on him. Well, she thought, Nettie DID mention that he’s exceptionally good at reading people. In the meantime, her gaze was drawn to Halee Wilder, seated next to Mallory and tucking into a cheeseburger. The girl’s eyes were flicking between her father, Julie, and Mallory, wearing a sardonic grin that was focused, intelligent, and totally aware. She caught Julie’s eye and locked gazes. Tilting her head to the side, she tipped a wink.

Julie blinked once, then lifted her eyebrows suggestively. Halee’s grin got bigger. This hot little vixen IS coming onto me, Julie realized. It didn’t faze her in the slightest; she and Mallory had enjoyed their own first sexual adventures with adult women when they were younger than Halee was now. But such brazenness was a bit surprising, especially at that age. Halee might just prove to be a fun diversion, either in a threesome with Mallory, or perhaps a bit of one-on-one fun if Mallory preferred to indulge in a little straight sex with the girl’s father. It would not, she reflected, be the first time.

Then there was that smoking hot redhead sitting across from her cousin. Nettie had referred to Hannah as her girlfriend, but Julie couldn’t help but wonder just how exclusive they were. And what about Nettie herself? It had happened before, but they’d been much, much younger then.

From the opposite end of the table, Nettie listened to the conversation with half an ear, working her way through a burger in between sips of coffee. She was blissfully content to have Hannah across the table, right there in her hometown among friends and family, but something about this whole downtable exchange was preying on her mind.

Not that she had a problem with anything that was transpiring, but the thought of Julie and perhaps Mallory embarking on a tryst of some description with Halee was triggering images, flashes in which memory and imagination were so entangled she had no way to distinguish between the two. She’d blocked out much of that horrible, traumatic year following the death of her twin sister, to the extent that she remembered kindergarten better than she remembered the second half of the fifth grade, or the first half of the sixth. Most of that time she’d spent living with Julie’s family.

She’d always thought of her liaisons with Miranda Olmstead at age fourteen as her first genuine sexual experience, but at times like these, she wondered. Images of herself in licentious situations with Julie and Mallory as children, even with some of their friends, flitted in and out of her head. How much of it was real, how much fantasy? She’d never worked up the courage to ask.

“Antoinette?” A light touch to the back of her hand shook Nettie out of her reverie. She looked up, startled. It was Hannah’s fingers resting on her hand, her lover’s eyebrows raised in concern.

“Sorry,” Nettie tossed off a laugh. “Got to daydreaming, I guess.”

“Ladies, and gentleman, Antoinette Hastings has officially departed low earth orbit,” said Terry, gesturing in her direction with a spoonful of baked beans, which he then proceeded to slip into his mouth.

“I was just asking if you’d gotten settled in the new place,” said Mallory.

Nettie shrugged, willing her tensed muscles to relax. “I’m all moved in, but I haven’t finished going through Dad’s stuff. About half of it is still boxed up in the garage.”

“What about the business?” Julie wanted to know.

“On the market,” Nettie replied. “I decided hanging onto it would be more trouble than it’s worth. Know anyone who wants to buy a lumberyard in the back end of nowhere?”

A chuckle made its way around the group, interrupted by a dozen or so pagers going off at once, two of which were at their table. Julie, her waist lightly touching the vibrating pager clipped to Terry’s belt, let out a squawk and dropped her fork.

Bronning Ambulance, Franklin, respond to 13343 State Highway 27 for a mental health crisis. Caller states that she swallowed three times her usual dose of Zoloft and is requesting transport to the hospital. Your time is 1632.

“Whoa,” said Julie, running a hand across her eyes with a laugh. “It’s been too long since I’ve lived in a house with one of those.”

Terry cast his gaze around the open space. “Who’s on?” he called out.

Nate Haus was already on his feet and moving across the field. He waved an arm over his head. “Me and Jessie.”

“Actually,” Robbie Wachinsky announced in a deep booming voice as he rose from the table nearest the stage, “Jessie’s sick. I’m covering.”

Terry burst out laughing. “Robbie,” he said in a voice that carried across the distance and over the horde, “you’re the only person I know who’d volunteer to cover at his own retirement party. I’ll take it for you, if you want.”

“Y’know what?” Robbie said as he followed Nate across the grass, still loud enough for everyone to hear, “this is the last time I’ll ever have the pager on. I can take a call. I’ll be back before it’s time to cut the cake.”

He paused as he passed their table. “What do you think, Nettie? Will we need a paramedic?”

Nettie snorted. “Three times an SSRI dose? That’s six hundred milligrams at the outside. It’ll make her sleepy; it’s not gonna kill her. Just drive her to the hospital. She’ll be fine.”

Robbie clapped her on the shoulder. “Enjoy the barbecue, then. I’ll be back.”

***

The sun is sinking slowly beneath the pines, casting long shadows as it approaches the nadir of its trajectory. A pair of sunken, bloodshot eyes watch it descend, the mind that lurks behind those eyes barely contained in its impatience. Sleep has not come easy this day. So much watching, so much waiting. Too much. It has been so very, very long.

Less than a mile away, two girls watch TV in the living room of a dingy, unkempt trailer. Their mother appears at the hallway entrance, her too-bright lipstick intended to match her red knee-high “steppin’ boots”. Her denim skirt doesn’t quite manage to cover the prominent bubble of her ass.

“How do I look?” she wants to know.

***

How, Nettie lamented to herself, do I end up in these situations? Nothing like wanting to rip someone’s clothes off and fuck them silly when I have a roomful of guests. 

She was ensconced on her loveseat, an arm around Hannah, a drink in the other hand. Robbie’s party had begun to split up as the sun went down, people trickling off of the field in small groups like stray electrons spinning off into the ether. She’d helped gather up and pack away the folding chairs, then retreated with her guests in tow.

Despite having Hannah all to herself for the first time in weeks, she could hardly have avoided offering Julie and Mallory a place to crash while they were in town. She had room to spare, and Bronning’s only motel was the best of all possible places to pick up bedbugs, lice or a social disease. With rarely-seen family in the house, her place had turned into a sort of party after the party—the kind that nobody would be driving home from.

Mallory and Julie had taken most of the couch, close together with arms touching, Mallory on the middle cushion. On Mal’s other side was Franklin County Sheriff’s Deputy Cindy Koep, who had gone to school with Julie and Mallory in Dickson. Occupying the room’s two recliners were Terry Wilder and his eldest daughter, Halee. Terry had found an overnight babysitter for his two youngest girls, while eleven-year-old Naomi was doing a sleepover at the home of her best friend Chelsey.

An image flashed through Nettie’s mind of what those two young lovebirds were most likely up to, which was a good deal more spicy than playing with Barbie dolls and watching Disney films. After all, she’d been there to watch them have sex for the first time. A wave of heat spread upwards, flowing from her groin to her belly. Dammit.

Mallory, Julie, and Hannah had mixed themselves daiquiris, Nettie and Terry were sipping shots from a bottle of scotch Terry had brought along—Nettie had taken one look at the label and resolved never to ask what the price tag was—and Cindy was nursing a bottle of locally brewed beer. A half-finished Coke rested on the table next to Halee’s chair.

A record was playing, the volume turned low. Nettie had chosen a Van Halen album in deference to her guests; at the moment Sammy Hagar was begging the question ‘Why Can’t This Be Love’. Why indeed? Nettie mused. Damned if I know.

“In other news,” Cindy was saying, “remember Floyd Peterson? That sorry sack of shit just got sentenced. He’ll be doing five years minimum.”

Julie guffawed. “Color me the least surprised person on earth. What’d he do this time?”

Cindy took a long pull of beer before she replied. “Assault with a deadly weapon. He beat the shit out of a guy with a big-ass crowbar. The victim was suing to get his money back; I guess he contracted Floyd to do a cement-block basement for his trailer and the whole thing came out crooked. No surprise there, either. So,” she paused for another sip, “Floyd shows up at this dude’s house drunk off his ass, and the moment the door opens, starts swinging. Probably would have killed him, but he dropped the crowbar and ran when he heard the victim’s wife jacking a shotgun shell into the chamber. The prosecutor tried to get him for attempted murder, but they couldn’t prove intent.”

Floyd Peterson. The name bounced around in Nettie’s mind, trying to find a place to land. It sounded familiar; someone she must have known during her year in Dixon. An image flashed through her mind; screaming girls wrestling in the snow with a taunting bully, all seen through a haze of tears. She couldn’t be sure it was related.

Mallory was shaking her head. “Good grief. Wasn’t he living with Kelly Larsen?”

“She walked out on him two years ago,” Cindy supplied. “Took the kids and moved into one of those crusty apartments above Dickson Hardware. Last I heard, she was working at the grocery store.”

“What a waste,” Julie lamented. “She was a year ahead of Mal and I in the advanced learning program, and wrote amazing poetry. Had a real head for math, too. I’ll never understand how someone that bright ends up going down such a bad road. I hope she kicked him in the balls on her way out the door.”

“He sounds like a real jerk,” said Halee.

“He was in our grade at Dickson Public,” said Cindy, “and a regular little asshole. Even in elementary school, he was constantly in trouble. Me, Mallory, and Julie got in a fight with him once, along with our friend Emma.”

That image flashed before Nettie’s eyes again; girls fighting with a boy in the snow. And an older girl, with goth clothes and a dirty mouth. Something about a man in an overcoat?

Hannah’s eyebrows went up. “How’d that happen?”

Cindy threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, God—it was so fucked. He never messed with any of us again, though.”

Julie was shaking her head. “It was right after school; we’d have been in the sixth grade. Floyd was picking on—well—a younger kid.” Her eyes flicked uneasily towards Nettie, then away again. “He—”

“Hold on,” Nettie broke in. “Why do I have the feeling I should remember this?”

Cindy looked down at her hands. Mallory and Julie exchanged an uncomfortable glance. It was Mallory who broke the silence. “Yeah—you were there. You usually walked home when the rest of us did.”

Hannah poked Nettie in the ribs. “You never told me you went to school in Dickson.”

“I lived with Julie’s family for about a year,” said Nettie, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “Long story. I was pretty young, and my memories of that time aren’t always real solid. When Cindy said ‘Floyd Peterson’ I got an image in my head of a kid being wrestled down in the snow by a bunch of girls—I’m guessing that’s what this is?” She hoped rather fervently that someone would get the hint. Hannah was looking at her with an eyebrow raised; Terry with an expression of profound sympathy.

Fortunately, Mallory was as perceptive as ever. “Like Julie said, it was right after school. It was spring and kind of nice out, and I was going to Julie’s house after school that day, so a bunch of us decided to walk home. We had this route we’d take. We’d hit Emma’s house first, then Cindy’s, and finally Julie and I would end up at her place. Nettie kinda got roped into the whole thing while she was crashing at Julie’s.

“Anyway, the five of us were standing around outside the school, not really in a big hurry to start walking, and Floyd came by with one of those sad sack guys that used to follow him around and do whatever he said…”

“I think it was Tom Ladwig that time,” Cindy put in.

“Yeah, Tom!” said Julie, picking up the thread. “So Floyd’s passing by, and starts totally being a douche. And I guess I kind of lost my head.”

“Julie was screaming at him to shut up,” said Cindy, “and that older girl you two used to hang out with showed up and threatened to put his lights out.”

“Megan Frost,” Nettie said suddenly. All at once the entire scene was replaying in her mind, as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. “I remember now! You guys went back and forth for a bit, Mallory squared off with him and threatened to kick him in the balls, then Julie just fucking pounced him. Mallory came in right behind her, then Cindy and Emma got in on the action. I remember Mallory yelling at Megan to stay out of it, because she was older and might get in more trouble.”

“Yeah,” said Mallory, smiling at the memory. “Floyd was trying to get his hands on Julie’s wrists, and I knew she’d be in trouble if that happened, because he was a lot stronger. So I just kind of dove in, then Cindy and Emma helped. He was a big kid, but the four of us had him down in the snow and pretty much pinned before the principal broke it up.”

Terry was laughing. “The mental picture you’re painting here is beyond hilarious.”

“Did you get in much trouble?” Halee wanted to know.

“Floyd got in-school detention for a few days, with zeros for missed assignments,” Cindy said. She took a swig of her beer, let out a satisfied sigh. “Which we thought was funny, because he was already flunking some subjects. The four of us had to write essays on alternatives to violence. My mom was kind of pissed because she was obsessive about black marks on my record, but it wasn’t a big deal. Julie’s dad was the coolest. He took us out for ice cream.”

“Including Megan,” Julie put in, “because we told him how she’d helped. She’s the reason Floyd got in so much trouble, because she saw the whole thing and backed up our story. Dad was so proud of us I thought he was going to burst. I don’t remember how Mallory’s parents took it.”

“They were finalizing the divorce,” said Mallory. “I don’t think it even registered with them. Emma got grounded for a couple of days; nothing serious.”

“Are you guys still in touch with Megan?” Cindy wanted to know.

“Yeah!” said Julie. “She lives in Fargo. She’s married now; she and her partner got hitched literally the day after gay marriage was legalized in North Dakota. They’ve got three adopted kids, and are fostering two others.”

“Whoa,” said Cindy, laughing. “We’re both talking about Megan here, right? Goth chick with a sharp tongue?”

“Yeah, that Megan,” said Julie with a grin. “Hard to believe, huh?”

“What about Emma?” said Nettie.

“Oh, she’s just down the road from Dickson,” Cindy supplied. “Perham, to be exact. She’s a network engineer for Arvig Communications; it’s the primary telecom in that part of the state. We have lunch when I’m down that way; maybe twice a year or so.”

“We’re still in touch, too,” said Julie, “but we haven’t seen her in a few years. Speaking of which, Cindy, did you get the time off in August?”

“I did! Can’t wait to get the four of us back together again.”

“Fantastic,” said Mallory. “Jamie Nelson will be around, too, because we’re reuniting 80 Proof to play the town festival. I let Megan know, and she says she’ll try to make it. If not, we’ll drop by her place on the way home. Just so you know, Nettie—if you want to catch up with some of that crowd, come down to Dickson during the first week of August. You were only around for about a year, but people still ask how you’re doing. Jamie in particular.”

Nettie rested her head against the back of the love seat, her eyes unfocused. Mention of that sweet, spacey teenage girl with the huge record collection and wicked guitar chops launched a cascade of memories; things she hadn’t thought of in years. Surprisingly, most of them were pleasant. Have I been so intent on pushing aside the bad stuff, I’ve let the good stuff slip away? 

It took her a moment to find her voice. “It’d be amazing to see Jamie again.”

“One of your old bandmates, Mallory?” Terry inquired. Mallory returned his gaze, accompanied by a shy smile.

“Jamie was our guitar player,” she said. “I used to hang out at her house, and we’d jam and come up with riffs together. Then we’d present the best ones to the band. Julie was usually there too, and Nettie used to come along sometimes to hang out. Jamie was a big metalhead, and Nettie fell in love with her record collection.”

“So this Jamie chick is the person responsible for Nettie’s predilection for that abysmal noise?” Terry demanded.

Julie was laughing. “Oh yeah—big time.”

“And Nettie is now infecting my daughter with the same disease,” said Terry, looking woefully in Halee’s direction. “I thought the punk rock was bad, but over the past month the sanctity of my domicile has been infringed upon by uncouth pummeling and unholy screeching, courtesy of the likes of Iron Priest, Judas Maiden, Megatallica, and who knows what the hell.”

Nettie, who had chosen a most inopportune moment to sip at her scotch, was forced to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying it all over the room. Halee was doubled over with laughter. “Dad,” she got out, “if you’re gonna make fun of what I’m listening to, you can at least get the names right.”

“I’m a classical musician by profession,” said Mallory, laughter in her voice, “and even I know better. Come on now. Halee’s even wearing an Iron Maiden tee.”

“The correct naming,” Terry said balefully, “makes it no more palatable.” But he was grinning. He switched tacks. “When you speak of writing riffs for presentation to your band, can I take that to mean you performed original material? I have your upcoming album of piano music on pre-order, by the by.”

“Thanks for that,” said Mallory. “You’re a friend of Nettie’s; I’d have hooked you up with a promo copy if I’d known you were interested. As for 80 Proof—we started out as a cover band, but then started doing our own stuff.”

“They did pretty well, too,” Julie put in. “By the end they were playing original music in cover band clubs, for cover band money. They recorded three albums—just regional releases, but they did okay. I mixed sound for most of their shows, and produced the second and third albums.”

“What kind of music?” Halee wanted to know, leaning forward in her chair.

“We were a very eclectic sort of rock band,” said Mallory. “Ranging from heavy metal to jangly folk-rock. Just whatever came out when we sat down to write. I’ve still got a bunch of CD copies of all three albums, if anyone wants them. They’re long since out of print.”

“What about that piano album Terry just mentioned?” Hannah inquired.

“Classical music—part piano and part harpsichord. Mostly lesser-known 18th-century composers, including some works that, as far as I know, haven’t been recorded before. There’s also some Bach thrown in to help sell the thing, and two of my own pieces.”

“My daughter Bethany listens to classical music,” said Hannah. “I’ll have to get her a copy.”

“I’m particularly excited to hear your original work,” said Terry. “I ordered the vinyl limited edition; one of only a hundred copies, I’m told.”

“Wow—thanks. Those limited editions aren’t cheap. I was surprised the label did one at all, seeing as how this is my first release with them.”

Noting belatedly that the music had stopped, Nettie got up and crossed the room to her turntable. “Any requests?” she said as she carefully lifted the record from the spindle and slipped it into its sleeve.

“How about something heavy, just to piss Dad off?’ said Halee, grinning smugly at her father.

“Tempting,” said Nettie, “but…”

“I could go for something heavy,” Cindy broke in. “Talking about Jamie Nelson kind of put me in the mood for it. Weird, huh?”

Deciding to go for a middle ground, Nettie selected a Rainbow album. Settling back onto the love seat and wrapping her arm around Hannah, she noticed a shift in the room. The conversation had lulled, the lengthy Hammond organ intro of the first song creating an atmosphere of mystery and intimacy. People sipped their drinks.

It was Hannah who broke the silence. “Mallory, Julie—I have to ask. How long have you been a couple? I seem to remember at the picnic today you told Terry you’d known each other since you were ten or so.”

Julie wrapped an arm around Mallory’s shoulders; pulled her close. “We met in the fifth grade,” she said, “but we didn’t really start hanging out until a year later. And then…” she hesitated, sipping her daiquiri. “We got involved sexually pretty shortly after that. Some might say we were too young, but here we are, after all these years.”

Visions flashed once again through Nettie’s mind, half-remembered images. She noted a sleepy little smile playing at the corners of Cindy’s mouth.

“I think the age thing is overblown,” said Hannah. “When you’re ready, you’re ready. At least you knew what you were. I totally went into denial when I realized I liked girls. I started spreading my legs for every dude in my high school just to prove how gay I wasn’t, and that’s how I got knocked up at age fifteen. Not that I have any regrets. Things turned out.”

“Things usually do,” said Cindy. “I had my first sexual experiences with girls, and I was pretty young. Now I’m married to a man. And I feel like everything that happened was the right thing for me at the time. Halee—is this conversation okay with you?”

Halee snorted. “Please. Nothing here I haven’t heard before. I’m a lesbian myself, actually.”

Terry sipped his whiskey and grinned. “But a lesbian of the pure, innocent, platonic variety, to be sure. None of my daughters shall lose their virginity until they’re at least thirty-two—and even then, I expect them to ask permission.”

“Whoops,” said Halee with a smirk. “You should have told me that before I did something irrevocable.”

Terry set his empty glass on the end table, fixing his eyes on his daughter. “This is one of those moments,” he said carefully, “in which I can’t tell whether you’re being serious or sarcastic.” But before Halee could speak, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Never mind. It’s none of my business. I can hardly expect my progeny to emulate my own standards of sexual purity.”

Nettie rolled her eyes. “Says the man who’s poked half the married women in this town.”

“Fake news,” Terry said cheerfully. “Nothing but incel energy here.”

“Look at it this way, Terry,” said Cindy with a smirk. “At least if she’s a lesbian, you don’t have to worry about a pregnant teen in your house.”

“I worry at the prospect of having human teenagers in my house, period,” said Terry.

“You just turned thirteen, didn’t you, Halee?” said Julie.

“Yup.”

“And you’re already comfortable with your sexuality,” said Hannah. “Good for you.” She raised her glass in Terry’s direction. “And good for you for being so chill about it. Especially at her age.”

Terry shrugged. “I’ve been making the beast with two backs since I was thirteen myself. Under those circumstances, one can hardly be judgemental.”

Halee choked on a mouthful of Coke. “The beast with two backs?! Jesus, Dad!”

“You’ve never heard that expression?” asked Nettie with raised eyebrows.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Halee shook her head. “I have now.” She grinned. “Besides, who knows? Maybe I’ll be interested in guys somewhere down the line. Right now, I’m just into chicks.”

“That’s how it happened for me,” said Nettie. “I didn’t figure out I was bisexual till I was sixteen.”

“I always knew,” said Cindy. “Even when I was hooking up with other girls, I knew I liked boys, and that I wanted to marry a man and have kids. But I didn’t have hetero sex until I was seventeen.”

Hannah pursed her lips. “Can I ask how long you’d been fooling around with girls at that point?”

“Since her twelfth birthday,” Julie chimed in, raising her glass and grinning. She, Mallory, and Cindy dissolved into gales of laughter.

“Oh, God, the sleepover!” Cindy choked out.

“So all the elaborate fantasies the boys concocted regarding the goings-on at girl’s sleepovers have some truth to them after all,” said Terry. “I must say, it warms my heart a little.”

“Not as many of ‘em as you’d probably like to think, big guy,” said Cindy. “Most of the time it was just silly crap like playing Fuck Marry Kill. But if you got those two—” she waved a hand at Julie and Mallory—”together with the right combination of girls, shit got crazy sometimes.”

“We liked to spread the fun around,” Mallory said with a smile. “But I was like Nettie; it took a few years before I knew I was bisexual. Obviously I’m in a committed relationship with Julie, but sometimes I’m attracted to men, too.” Her gaze locked with Terry’s for a moment, then dropped to her hands.

“I know I’m asking a lot of nosy questions, but I’ve always wondered how couples dealt with that kind of thing,” said Hannah. “You can tell me to mind my own business if you want.”

“Johnny and I have an agreement,” said Cindy. “I don’t sleep with other men, but women are fair game. I’m careful to not abuse the privilege, and he occasionally gets a little extra payoff. Some of the women I hook up with are bi, so he’s gotten a few threesomes out of the deal.”

“Mal and I have never been completely exclusive,” said Julie. “As Cindy can attest. When it comes to other women, we’ve always done hookups together. Both of us or neither. There’ve been a handful of exceptions, and we always agree to those in advance.

“But once in a while Little Miss Insatiable here wants a penis, and I’m not at all into that. She always checks with me first, and while she’s off having fun with the Weiner of the Week, I’m free to indulge myself with whomever.”

“I like it,” said Hannah. “The lack of jealousy, I mean.”

Kissing Mallory lightly on the forehead, Julie smiled. “It’s just the way we started out,” she said. “We were always doing stuff with other people, right from the beginning. Some of them quite a bit older than us, but I think that worked out nicely. We sure learned a lot!”

“One of the first women I bumped uglies with—there’s another great expression for you, Halee—was old enough to be my mother,” said Terry. “I failed to see the problem then—and honestly, I still do.”

Hannah grinned. “A room full of enlightened souls. I love it.”

Another silence enveloped the room, but not an awkward one. Sexuality practically crackled through the air. Nettie suspected there wasn’t a dry vagina in the house, and couldn’t help but notice how Terry’s hands were strategically folded across his lap. His eyes were locked with Mallory’s, and neither of them were being furtive about it anymore.

Nettie was aroused herself, but also exhausted. She hadn’t had a wink of sleep since her long night on the truck. She needed to get off, then she needed to pass out, preferably in the next hour or so.

“I hate to be the party-pooper hostess,” she said. “But I’m gonna have to call it before much longer. I was on the boo-boo buggy most of last night.”

“It might not be a bad time to turn in,” Cindy agreed.

Terry nodded, his gaze still fixed on Mallory. “It seems as good a time as any to make an elegant departure. Thanks for having us, Nettie; it’s been delightful.”

Nettie shook her head. “I planned on everyone staying here tonight because I knew we’d be drinking. There’s lots of room, Terry.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Terry smiled. “My house is an easy walk from here, and it’s a lovely evening. Halee can either come back with me, or stick around and indulge in whatever—” he paused meaningfully— ”festivities remain.”

Halee paled visibly, and Nettie’s heart skipped a beat. Terry, she realized, was more aware of the past two months’ activities than she would have guessed. Obviously, he was prepared to take it in stride. She forced herself to relax.

Hannah was eying Terry appraisingly. “Sounds permissive.” she said, a note of teasing in her voice.

“I do try to not be an ogre,” said Terry. “With all that said—”

“Hold on,” said Julie. Her eyes were on her partner. “Since it’s all kind of out in the open anyway—Mallory, are you leaving with him?”

Mallory’s hand darted to grip the back of Julie’s head, pulling her into a deep, wet, sensuous kiss. They parted, foreheads resting together. “I love you, Julie,” Mallory said.

“Love you too,” said Julie. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I will. You do the same,” said Mallory. Rising from the couch, she crossed the room to Terry, fearlessly taking his hand.

“Goodnight, all,” said Terry. “Halee, coming or staying?”

Halee looked to Julie, an eyebrow inquisitively raised. The older woman gave her a smile and a slight nod. Halee turned back to her father. “Staying.”

“All right, then. Have the best of all possible times. Don’t get up, Nettie; we can let ourselves out.”

As the front door closed behind them, Julie slid to the middle of the couch, wrapped an arm around Cindy, and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “It’s been way too long,” she breathed. Halee was staring across the room at the pair, naked lust in her eyes.

“Okay, then,” said Julie, “what are the sleeping arrangements for the rest of us?”

***

A tired engine whines to life, coughing hoarsely through rusted-out pipes. It settles grumpily into idle, lifter knock apparent even above the roar of the mufflerless exhaust. The woman behind the wheel checks her makeup in the rearview, hoping the age lines don’t show too much through the foundation. She smiles.

Her nostrils burn a little from the nose candy she’d taken on board just before emerging from the bathroom, but the high is starting to kick in, and she’s feeling alive, wired, and hot to trot. Let the fat-ass babysitter ride herd on those two snot-nosed little brats for a while; it’s steppin’ time!

As the sun finally disappears beneath the pines, she shoves the gearshift of the smurf-blue Accord into reverse and backs out, flakes of rust pattering to the ground in its wake.

From a vantage point high in the boughs of a pine, the corners of a mouth curl upwards from beneath a pair of binoculars.

On to Chapter Three!

Note from JetBoy: We’ve not had a new offering from our beloved kinkys_sis in a while, for which I take full responsibility. Anyhow, I’m addressing this shameful deficit with a delightful little tale from her pen. Do enjoy.

by kinkys_sis

Inspired by a beautiful red-haired schoolgirl I saw on a bus. Her manner was absolutely infectious; she was a bundle of fun. We never spoke, although she did smile at me. Isn’t imagination a wonderful thing? (By the way, for those who don’t know, the name is pronounced “Shav-awn.”)

***

When I finished my hospital shift, I had about ten minutes to make the three PM bus for home. If I missed that, it was a half hour wait for the next one. It wasn’t so much the wait that bothered me, it was the fact that the three-thirty PM stopped at two schools on the way. Then the bus was crammed with loads of school kids, all competing to see who could make the loudest racket. Christ almighty, I hated that bus.

That day, I reached the stop just in time to see my bus pull away and into traffic. Swearing under my breath, I resigned myself to the half hour wait, followed by an unpleasant journey. Even if I managed to wangle a seat, it would be too crowded and noisy for me to work on my crossword puzzle.

Sure enough, when the bus stopped at the schools they came pouring on, mobs of them, shouting at each other. It was a cacophony of inane comments, bursts of anger, shrieking laughter and tinny snatches of music from their cell phones.

To add to the general din, the driver was yelling for them to move toward the back of the bus and “take your sodding seats.” It was the same every day; you’d think these kids would learn from the experience. But no, they always managed to make the driver lose his temper.

The bus was already halfway full when I got on board, so I’d been obliged to take one of the two sideways-facing seats near the front, which are never comfortable. And then to have all of these kids around me, jostling for space… well, I had to give up on doing my crossword right away. There just wasn’t enough room for me to fill it in.

A young redheaded girl directly in front of me struggled to keep her balance when the bus pulled away. She hadn’t been able to reach a handhold. It was only the mass of bodies that was keeping the girl on her feet. It was an accident waiting to happen.

Sure enough, at the first corner she almost fell on top of me, but managed to right herself just in time. “Top of the day to ye, ma’am,” she said in an exaggerated Irish accent, wearing a huge grin.

I can’t recall whether I gave her a scowl or a weary smile in reply, but it didn’t matter. She’d already turned away to answer a friend.

Finally, the bus arrived at my stop, where I had to force my way through a dreadful crush of bodies to reach the exit door. “T’was a fine pleasure meetin’ ye, ma’am,” she quipped, then took my vacated seat.

I didn’t give her more than a moment’s thought. It just felt good to be off the bus.

***

It was two days later, and once again, I ended up on the three-thirty, in the same seat as before. This time, I didn’t even bother to get my crossword puzzle out.

Instead, I was idly checking my phone when I heard that familiar Irish accent. “Is it you again, then? We shouldn’t keep meetin’ this way.”

It was that high-spirited redhead, clearly trying to amuse herself and her friends. I gave her the merest glance, then went back to my phone.

It quickly became obvious that this vivacious teenpop was popular among her peers, with one youngster after another engaging her in conversation.

A moment later, I noticed something else. I was only half-listening , but it suddenly struck me that the girl’s Irish accent had completely vanished when she answered the girl stood next to her. She sounded English and posh as can be. It was enough to make me look up.

What first got my attention was her unruly mass of long bright ginger hair. She clearly had trouble keeping it under control. Then I realised she was smaller than any of her friends. They all looked to be around thirteen or fourteen. She seemed to be younger, but somehow I knew she wasn’t.

Suddenly aware of my scrutiny, the girl turned to glance at me. Now I knew why she could so easily slip into the accent. Her freckled face and deep green eyes, combined with the ginger hair, shouted Irish.

She turned that big grin on me. “You’re all of a wonderin’ about me now, pretty lady. And you’d be right. ‘Tis a mix of English and Irish, to be sure.” She laughed, then continued in her English voice. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m daft as a brush.”

I had to admit her manner was downright infectious; witty and charming, but very relaxed with it. I could easily see why she was popular.

The bus had been about to pass a stop when at the last moment, a man who’d been idly poking at his phone jumped up, frantically waving his arms and calling out, “Sorry, sorry… I get off here!” The driver hastily swerved into the stop bay, almost screeching to a halt. The mass of standing bodies held on for dear life, so as not to get pitched forward. But the redheaded girl had nothing to hold onto, so I instinctively reached out to steady her before she toppled over.

Although I managed to grasp both her arms, she still almost fell onto me. Quite accidentally, my knee went between her thighs before she recovered her balance. Oddly enough, she didn’t immediately pull away, just grinned and murmured, “A bit personal, considering we just met.”

I felt my face get hot, but she hastily added, “I’m only joking, ma’am. I told you, don’t pay any attention to me when I get like this.”

Pulling away, she went right back to chatting and laughing with her friends. Funny; I found myself wishing she’d spent a little more time with me.

When she saw me press the STOP button, the girl leaned in my direction, all smiles. “Have a nice rest of the day, lovely lady. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow…?”

I knew it was just idle chatter; no real meaning behind her words. But after exiting the bus, I couldn’t help thinking of how she’d lingered while straddling my knee, maintaining intimate contact for longer than was necessary.

Why on earth would she do such a thing? Could she have been… coming on to me? The very idea seemed ludicrous, so I forced myself to think about something, anything else.

But in spite of my best efforts, the girl continued to prey on my mind. I kept recalling that pretty smiling face, that wild, untamed mane of red hair, those twinkling green eyes.

I found myself growing increasingly curious about this young stranger. What was her name? How old was she? What were her interests, her favourite books, bands, films? Did she have a boyfriend?

Did she even like boys?

***

I didn’t have much going on when I wasn’t on the job. An active social life didn’t fit in with continually varying shifts at the hospital, so I found it difficult to build any sort of steady romantic relationship.

Oh, I occasionally dated men, and slept with some of them. But none of these dalliances were ever more than casual, and always seemed to taper off before a few weeks had passed.

Don’t get me wrong — I liked these men well enough, and the sex was enjoyable, but I wanted something of substance. It’s just that I had no real idea what that something was, or how to go about getting it. So my personal life was mostly spent in a kind of limbo, longing for more.

In the meantime, my thoughts seemed to keep returning to that young girl. Her cheery nature had certainly brightened my day, but it was that moment of unexpected intimacy that I thought of the most. Could she really have ground her sex against my thigh? Young schoolgirls didn’t behave that way… or did they? Not that I normally gave much thought to the ways of young girls.

***

For the first time ever, I intentionally waited for the three-thirty bus and, once aboard, claimed the same seat as before. There was no ulterior motive behind my actions other than the fact that I enjoyed being in the presence of the redheaded girl. I could put up with the crowds and the noise for that.

She grinned when she looked my way, nudging her way through the mob until she was standing in front of me. Leaning in, she murmured, “I thought I might get lucky again today.” She saw my puzzled expression. “After what happened the last time we met, that is. I thought it was fun, didn’t you?”

The girl next to her had overheard. Making a face, she gave my redhead a poke in the ribs. “Stop teasing the lady, Siobhan. You’ll get into trouble one of these days, the way you carry on.”

Now I know her name, I thought, surprised by the satisfaction I took from that. As for Siobhan, she put on an innocent expression. “Teasing? Who, me? I don’t know what you mean.” She looked back at me. “Do you know what she means?” She lowered her voice to barely a whisper, “Besides, I wasn’t teasing… not at all.”

The whole exchange left me floundering, my face hot. What on earth was she up to? It shocked me to realise that this girl was openly flirting with me, in a way that was anything but innocent. For God’s sake, she couldn’t have been a day older than thirteen!

I didn’t know where to look, what to say or how to handle a situation like this. So I did nothing at all, just sat there staring at my knees.

At the next stop, even more youngsters crammed themselves into the bus, pressing Siobhan against me. By then, she was facing away from me, chatting to a girl on her right who had just boarded.

The bus rounded a corner, everyone swayed, and before I knew it, my knee was once again between the girl’s thighs. But this time, she stayed put.

I tried to pull back, but she seemed to follow. I could feel the heat of her sex against my bare skin.

On the verge of panic, I reached out to press the ‘stop’ button, even though we were at least a half dozen stops away from my destination. But Siobhan seized my hand just in time to prevent that.

I stared up into her calm green eyes. The warmth of her sex on my knee had increased… and was that a hint of wetness I felt? It shocked me to realise that Siobhan was pressing herself down more firmly, grinding the front of her knickers against my bare knee. The motion of the bus rocked her back and forth, assisting the girl in her lewd task.

I might have shoved her away out of sheer embarrassment, but I could also see that no one else was aware what Siobhan was doing — not in that crush. So I did nothing, thinking it best to avoid a scene. That’s what I told myself, at least.

Somehow, I found myself studying Siobhan’s arse… then the rest of her. For a fleeting moment, I tried to picture her naked before thrusting the thought away. She’s practically a child, for fuck’s sake… even if she is rubbing herself off on my leg.

By then, the front of her knickers was soaking wet. And to my surprise, I felt a corresponding dampness of my own, accompanied by a deep, resonating pulse between the thighs that left me light-headed. As if acting on their own, my legs parted even further, making it easier for the girl to grind against me.

My God, I was getting aroused by this! What was going on here? I’d never so much as kissed another girl, much less lusted after one. Had I lost my mind?

Siobhan suddenly seized my hand, clutching it tightly. I saw her hips jerk before she pressed her sex into my knee more firmly than ever. She was coming! I resisted an abrupt, powerful urge to reach out and grope her arse, but it was a very near thing.

Before I knew what was happening, the girl pulled herself away. I looked up to catch Siobhan grinning at me over her shoulder, eyes twinkling.

I yanked my skirt down lower to cover whatever evidence she’d left behind on my knee, struggling to get a grip on some very confused emotions. The craving, the need I was experiencing was like nothing I’d ever known. I ought to have been disgusted. Yet somehow, I wasn’t.

This time, she didn’t prevent me from pressing ‘stop’, but waited for me to look her way. When our eyes met, Siobhan raised an eyebrow. I knew it was a question, but what, I didn’t know. I was too flustered to deal with her right then. All I wanted was to escape. This wasn’t even my stop!

I had to squeeze by her to get through. Her mouth almost touched my ear. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. Hope I didn’t upset you. If you’re not here tomorrow, I’ll know you’re not happy with me. But if you are here, well… let’s wait and see.” I felt her pat my hip. “Bye for now, lovely lady.”

***

For the remainder of the day, I fought to get Siobhan out of my mind and failed miserably. The memory of her warm, wet pussy against my skin, nothing but a pair of knickers between us… it haunted me, like a song that wouldn’t stop running through my head. The scent of her shampoo, the weight of her against me, the way her body jerked when she came. I was appalled and fascinated in equal measure.

In my heart, I knew I could and should have stopped her. But I hadn’t, and that’s what I found so difficult to understand. I’d allowed a young schoolgirl to rub herself off on me. Worse still, I’d found myself aroused by it. Christ, I still did, hours later. Did that make me some kind of pervert?

Slumping back in my chair, I took a swallow of wine and allowed the memory of Siobhan’s face to come into focus. Young, yes, even younger looking than I suspected she was. I already knew she was strangely beautiful. It was a kind of pixie-like face, very expressive. Her sense of humour, her joy, her boundless enthusiasm for life and living… it was all there for the world to see when she smiled.

I was shocked to realise how much I was drawn to the girl. In fact, I genuinely liked her. Even though she’d used me as a masturbation aid without seeking my consent. Not that I’d ever have given it had she asked. I stared at my knee. It was almost as if I could still feel her grinding against me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt the urge to masturbate. I wasn’t going to, though.  It seemed too much like flirting with danger, the idea of getting myself off to thoughts of an underage girl. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, and trying to figure it out didn’t help.

Fuck, girl, I told myself, this Siobhan has got you more excited than you’ve ever been.

I told myself that I had to stop thinking about her. There was nothing good that could ever come of it. Yet my body was urging me to go somewhere very dangerous, to get myself intimately involved with a child. And that’s what she essentially was — a child.

One thing I knew for certain: I wouldn’t be catching the 3:30 the next day.  And despite my growing attraction to Siobhan, I kept that promise.

***

It was one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. Far more patients to see than normal, several of them peeved at having to wait longer than expected. I didn’t even get a lunch break. I was in a foul mood; at odds with everything and everyone. And to cap it all, I missed the 3 pm bus!

I certainly didn’t want to take the 3.30, but couldn’t bear the thought of waiting until four to get the next bus; I was exhausted as it was. Instead, I boarded the 3.30 and looked for a seat where I could hide myself. Perhaps Siobhan wouldn’t notice me.

She didn’t at first. I saw her glance about the bus, a look of disappointment evident on her face. I admit it; I was surprised. Could it be that this was more than a schoolgirl playing a wicked game? Was she genuinely interested in me?

Just then the woman seated next to me reached out for the ‘stop’ button, muttering, “Excuse me, please.” I had to stand to let her out. I’d barely settled back into my seat when Siobhan sidled in next to me.

That day she spoke in plain English, no  trace of that Irish lilt. “You’re avoiding me, it’s obvious. That’s okay… I guess I do need to apologize for my behaviour the other day. But tell me, pretty lady, did you think about me afterward… even a little bit?”

Right off, I made my first mistake. I was tired, and all too aware of her closeness. So I didn’t think, just answered, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That’s why I stayed away.”

I heard her chuckle, then murmur, “I knew it.” She switched to her Irish voice. “Now why would you be wantin’ to stay away from me? Me, that wants nothin’ more than gettin’ to know you better.” She placed her hand on my knee. “This part of you seemed to enjoy gettin’ acquainted.”

I didn’t want to draw any attention, which I probably would have done if I’d pushed her hand away. Now came my second mistake. I dropped my coat over Siobhan’s hand, intending to conceal what she was up to from any casual observers, but instead of then ordering her to back off, I stammered, “Please d-don’t touch me like that.”

She did raise her hand, nearly breaking contact, but her fingers were still grazing my bare skin. “Is that what you really want? If I’d been older, would you still have asked me to stop?” I felt that wicked hand slide beneath my skirt until it rested on my thigh.

I tried to address her by name, but messed up the pronunciation. She laughed, then told me, “Shav-awn, that’s the proper way to say it. Now what are you tryin’ to tell me?” Her fingers were now teasing the inside of my thigh, steadily moving higher.

This time I managed to get her name out correctly. “Siobhan, you — you shouldn’t. We’re on a bus, for God’s sake!”

That bewitching smile of hers put in another appearance. “So, lady. ‘Tis only the where and not the what that’s botherin’ you? Besides, shouldn’t is different to don’t, I’m thinkin’.”

Her fingers pressed a little more firmly as they slid further. Another couple of inches and she’d be touching the front of my knickers.

I was a mess, my resistance dwindled to practically nothing. I didn’t want her to stop — in fact, my pussy was aching for Siobhan’s touch. Oh, that still, small voice of conscience was putting up a fight, whispering, She’s practically a child, it’s sex in a public place, you aren’t even a lesbian, stop this bus and get off, you sodding fool — but I was growing increasingly deaf to its demands.

At any rate, Siobhan didn’t stop. Her fingers lightly caressing my inner thigh, she leaned closer and whispered, “Now is when you should tell me to take my hand away… and I will, if it’s what you really want.”

I was on the verge of speaking… but before my lips could form that first word, her fingers brushed the front of my knickers. I immediately froze.

This was all so new to me — terrifying, yet thrilling. A smidgen of a girl was touching me up in front of dozens of underage kids just out of school.

I knew I should make her stop, but damn it all, I was still unable to speak. Or move. My pulse, however, was racing like a gazelle.

Then a shudder jolted through me when Siobhan traced her finger along the crease of my pussy.

I stole a quick sideways glance and saw her gazing towards the front of the bus as if nothing untoward was taking place, though one could detect a very slight smirk on her lips.

I still hadn’t protested, but came close to gasping out loud when her finger began to slide up and down, then I jerked in my seat when she found my clit. Thankfully, no one noticed. A second finger joined the first, one on either side of my pulsing button.

Her lips brushed my ear. “Relax, pretty lady; enjoy. After all, I’m only returning the favour. I do owe you one.”

For two days I’d not been able to keep this girl from my thoughts. Now I was at her mercy. Siobhan’s touch was magical, and I couldn’t summon the will power to resist. Instead, my knees had parted just enough to give the girl sufficient room to do as she wished.

And that she did. Her fingers worked faster, back and forth, sliding along the front of my drenched knickers. I could feel my orgasm approaching, like an oncoming headlight glimpsed in the distance. I reached down to grip Siobhan’s wrist, silently urging her to go faster.

Mind you, I was still very much aware of the fact that we were on a crowded bus. Somehow, I managed to hold myself still as my pussy began to pulse. That pulse grew into a throbbing, then a pounding, and seconds later I exploded in the most intense orgasm I’d had in a long, long time. And somehow, I managed to keep quiet through it all.

Once the madness had passed, I sat motionless, allowing myself time to recover, but still clutching Siobhan’s hand between my legs.

When I’d sufficiently calmed myself, I whispered, “Such a wicked girl. You took unfair advantage of me. I ought to have stopped you.”

She cut in, speaking in her posh voice. “Ah, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to, either. Maybe I did take advantage, but only because I’d seen the signs.” She abruptly switched back to her Irish. “So don’t let it be troublin’ you, not a bit. Are you hearin’ me?”

“Signs? What signs? I don’t understand,” I asked.

“I saw a sweet, lonely lady who needed love, wantin’ to be held and touched by someone special. I saw you was sort of interested in me… but maybe also a little scared. And I understand that. Me, I liked you from the moment I first saw you on the bus.”

“I… I liked you too,” I replied. “Guess I didn’t know how much.”

Siobhan nodded. “I sort of guessed you weren’t actually into women… well, what I mean is, you don’t seem like you’re gay.” She paused, blushing a little bit. “I haven’t been teasin’ you all this time, honestly, I was seriously trying to make you want to know me.”

I didn’t know what to say in reply. Because there really wasn’t a sensible answer.

I relaxed my grip on her hand, which Siobhan slowly withdrew from between my legs. “That’s the first time I ever tried anything like that,” she said, “and I’m glad I did. I know you enjoyed it, too, but I don’t think we should do it again…” Before I could protest, she winked and added, “not on the bus, anyways.”

She paused to study her two fingers, the ones she’d used to make me come, then smiled as she lifted them to her mouth. I watched in astonishment as she sucked them. The act was both shocking and exciting.

Once she’d sampled my flavour, Siobhan said, “It’s Saturday tomorrow. I go into the city most weeks. I’ll be on the bus that passes yours at a quarter past ten. It would make me so happy if you were to join me. We could go for a coffee, or a McDonald’s or something. I mean, if you aren’t working at the hospital.  That’s where you come from every day, right?”

Siobhan wasn’t being jocular now. She was genuinely asking me to meet her, almost pleading.

My thoughts raced as my stop was approaching. Good sense told me it was time to call a stop to all of this before this thing got even more out of hand.

I reached out and pressed the ‘stop’ button, still not knowing how to answer. The bus began to slow. “Please,” she barely whispered, a tremor in her voice.

Siobhan moved to let me out of the seat, briefly gripping my arm as I squeezed through. Then I turned to her and blurted, “I’ll try,” then exited without a backward glance.

I looked up at the window of the bus as I set off for my flat. Siobhan’s mischievous expression had returned. She blew me a kiss, and I couldn’t keep myself from smiling back at her.

***

I liked to shower each day as soon as I got home. It washed the smell of the hospital away, as well as easing the tensions that built up on the job.

Needless to say, thoughts of Siobhan flooded my mind as I undressed. I was quite astounded at the state of my knickers. I’d never been masturbated or even orgasmed in my knickers before. You could tell they’d been absolutely soaked through.

I pictured my lovely redhead putting her fingers in her mouth and sucking them after rubbing me off. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do something like that in public, where others could see. And yet Siobhan had done that very thing, just so I could watch her do it. Thinking about that made me tingle all over.

There was a throbbing between my legs and my nipples ached as I recalled the expression on her face when she tasted me. A look that spoke of purest pleasure.

That afternoon, I fingered myself in the shower, picturing Siobhan’s face. I even whispered her name when I climaxed.

That wasn’t the end of it, mind you. All through the evening, through dinner, and afterwards with a half bottle of wine, I thought about her. That’s when I realised that, consequences be damned, I was going to accept Siobhan’s offer to meet the next day.

I actually felt a measure of relief in making that decision, but it was followed by a generous dose of fear. Fuck me, I was going on a date with a thirteen-year-old girl!

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe this meant I was a lesbian, even though Siobhan had told me I didn’t seem like one. Am I gay, then? I asked myself. And if I am, should that bother me? I suddenly realised that I couldn’t care less.

What concerned me far more was what I was going to wear for our date. At twenty-six, I was precisely twice her age. Not old enough to pretend to be her mum, and probably too old to pass for her sister. Not that there was anything that would pass as a family resemblance, what with her ginger hair and mine almost pure black. I hoped no questions would arise about us and why we were together, but I knew we’d have to watch our behaviour. This time, I couldn’t allow her to fondle me in public, that much was certain.

In the end, I settled on trying to make myself appear as young as possible without being utterly obvious about it. A blue dress I hadn’t worn in years (but still fit into, thankfully), a pair of purple trainers I’d bought on impulse and never removed from the box, a brighter shade of lipgloss… I used every trick at my disposal to shave a few years off my age. And underneath, I wore the skimpiest, naughtiest lingerie in my wardrobe.

While doing my makeup, it struck me that I’d never gone to this much trouble preparing for a date with a man. My interest in this girl was fast becoming an obsession.

***

Rush hour was almost over, and the bus was near empty. The early morning buses were double-decked, they changed to single-deck for the rest of the day. I saw Siobhan wave through the window as the bus pulled in, not failing to notice her huge, happy grin.

I’m sure part of it was my outfit, but I actually felt like a teenager as I got on board. My heart was fluttering, my stomach doing flip-flops — just like a kid on a first date.

I stopped dead when I saw her stand up to greet me. Siobhan looked utterly gorgeous. Of course, the school uniform was gone. She now wore a skirt and button-up top with high heels. While I’d worked to make myself seem younger, Siobhan had opted for a more mature look.

I couldn’t keep myself from coming out with, “My goodness! Don’t you look beautiful, and, um… older. More grown up.” My God, I was babbling like a fool.

Siobhan took it in stride, though. She came back with, “So do you! Except, um, you look younger.” She wasn’t her usual cocky self, and that helped me feel a bit less awkward.

“Let’s sit up top,” she said, and I meekly followed Siobhan up the stairs. The dress she wore showcased her arse to impressive effect, and I found myself longing to reach out and touch it. Down, girl, I told myself.

Except for us, the top deck was empty, and I hoped it would stay that way. There were things I wanted to say that couldn’t be spoken in the presence of others.

As I sat next to Siobhan, she leaned in and kissed my cheek. She’d already done far more intimate things to me, yet somehow, this felt different. It was like a statement of intent, making it clear that  she wanted more from me than sex. Maybe I was reading too much into a brief kiss, but the warmth I felt inside couldn’t be denied.

Intending to return the compliment, I drew closer, expecting Siobhan to turn a cheek. Instead, she parted her lips ever so slightly, inviting me to kiss her for real.

I only hesitated for the briefest moment, well aware that I’d never kissed anyone of my own sex before… but now I wanted to more than anything.

I brought my lips to hers, only intending a brief, gentle kiss for starters, but as I began to draw away, Siobhan followed. Our mouths were pressed together; the kiss lingered. Then her tongue brushed my lower lip — and just like that, I surrendered, returning her kiss with every ounce of passion I possessed, giving myself over to the love of a thirteen-year-old girl.

She drew my tongue into a lustful dance, and I was only too happy to let her lead. I swear the kiss must have lasted for at least three minutes before we finally broke apart.

Siobhan and I were inches apart, our eyes locked together. We were both too overwhelmed to speak at first, then she gave a blissful sigh and said, “My first kiss from a lady… and what a beautiful lady she is, too. I was hopin’ for this all last night and this mornin’, too. I even prayed it would stay empty up here, so we could finally kiss for real. And I ain’t even gonna ask if you liked it, because I know you did. I could feel you gettin’ all excited. Just like I am right now.”

Taking her hand, I said, “Siobhan, I have to admit something. I was frightened by the thought of meeting you here today. I’ve never done anything like this with a woman before, much less a girl your age. But when I saw you today, all those feelings disappeared. That’s when I knew for sure that I’m… I’m attracted to you. I want to get to know you better, much better. And by the way, that was the nicest, sweetest kiss I’ve ever had.”

Siobhan was positively beaming at me. “See, I knew it. Maybe I acted like some clever, experienced girl… but really, I’m not. I just saw you that first day on the bus and I thought, oh my fuck, I gotta get to know that lady. I wasn’t sure what was the best way to get closer to you, and maybe I made some dumb mistakes. But, see, it worked, ’cause here we are.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “It’s you and me now.”

I pondered her words and what they meant. This beautiful, lively girl wanted me for a lover, and I still didn’t quite understand why. I answered, “Yes, Siobhan, here I am. This… this hold you have over me doesn’t even make sense, and I’m not sure how or why it happened, but I’m so, SO glad it did.”

Flashing that infectious grin of hers, she switched to her Irish lilt. “’Tis because I’m irresistible. I’m what you want, even if you didn’t know it. And me… fuck, I don’t know your name, but I’ve been lookin’ for someone special. Sure, I thought it would be a girl close to my age… then I saw you and I knew. Oh, and call me Shav — it’s easier.”

“Shav.” I savoured it. “Hi, Shav. My name’s Megan — and please don’t call me Meg, I hate that.” I touched a finger to her lips before she could respond. “This wasn’t easy for me, you know… meeting you like this. I tried to stop myself, because I knew it was wrong. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I came. Now… um, what happens next?”

She laughed. “Oh, that’s easy. We’re girlfriends now, and I’m gonna make you love me. Want to kiss some more, Megan?”

I did. Our mouths drifted together, and we kissed for ages. Her tongue quickly found its way between my lips, and I met it with mine.

I had a sudden, powerful urge to touch Siobhan’s budding breasts, so it didn’t surprise me at all when I felt her hand slide under my jumper. Sure enough, this teen girl began to feel me up.

Oh God, it felt good to have someone touch me like that. So unlike my previous boyfriend, who barely paid attention to my tits, always in such a hurry to get me out of my knickers and on my back. With Siobhan, there was affection in every caress. When she lightly pinched my nipple, I nearly came on the spot.

I had to touch her, had to give my young lover the same sweet gift she’d given me. Slipping a hand beneath Siobhan’s skirt, I began to stroke her thighs. She parted her legs, inviting me inside. Without a second thought, I laid my hand on the front of her knickers, overwhelmed at how wet they were… soaked through!

Out of nowhere, a nagging voice entered my mind, asking, What in God’s name are you doing with your hand up a thirteen-year-old’s skirt? I thrust the voice away, refused its call. I had something far more meaningful to occupy me.

There was but a thin layer of cotton between my hand and Siobhan’s mound. Did I have the courage to cross that line, to pleasure her with my fingers? If I gave in, this would be sex with an underage girl… only this time, I was the one doing the dirty work. I’d be risking everything.

Siobhan saw my uncertainty. “Please,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “Please touch me, Megan.”

I couldn’t tell her no, couldn’t make this adorable girl sad. Besides, I wanted to fuck her; craved her like a drug. Yes, I was that far gone.

Carefully easing the front of her knickers to one side, I found the juicy slit. Inexperienced as I was, it was plain as day that she was very aroused. I lightly traced a finger along the cleft, going up and down a few times before gently pressing the tip inside. It easily slipped into her warmth, right up to the third knuckle. Siobhan thrust herself forward, forcing my finger even deeper. “Oh, oh yes!” she gasped.

She crushed her mouth into mine, kissing me with a fierceness she’d not shown before. Her hand was still under my jumper, and she seized my throbbing nipple; gave it a quick twist. It hurt so wonderfully, a jolt of ecstasy that went straight between my legs.

Siobhan moaned into our kiss as I fucked her cunt, working my finger in and out. I didn’t really have a clue what I was doing, just went by intuition. I guess that was enough, because she was so clearly loving my touch. It was when she began to move her torso up and down, sort of raising up from the seat with every thrust, that I thought of her clitoris. Christ, how could I have forgotten that?

I made up for lost time, though. Leaning forward, I brought my left hand into play, searching for Siobhan’s clit while continuing to shag her with the right.

My fingers found the slippery nub. I rubbed and teased it. She writhed and moaned, covering her mouth as best she could. I rubbed faster. Suddenly, she gripped my tit hard, going tense for a moment… then a hard shudder shook her body, and I knew she was coming. She began to tremble, her hips jerking in time with my thrusts.

I saw her eyes open to stare into mine, her head bobbing, mouth hanging slack. “Sweet Jesus, Megan — fuck me!”

I’d never had a woman climax in my presence before, never mind a young girl. But now, this wild young creature was orgasming to my touch. It was one of the most beautiful moments imaginable. My heart was so full that I almost cried with joy.

Slowly, she calmed, then relaxed, collapsing into my arms. I held her tightly, my face buried in a sweet-smelling mess of ginger hair. After a short while, she turned her head up to look at me. She gave a little nod and a weary smile. “See, I knew it. You and me, we were meant to be.”

I could only gaze down at her beautiful young face, at a loss for words. So instead, I leaned down and gave Siobhan a tender kiss.

We were startled out of it when the bus made a sudden stop. We took our hands back, then paused to straighten our clothes. Shav was grinning that impish grin. “So, what’re we doing all day? Maybe you want to go to the cinema, then we could sit in the dark and touch each other’s pussies. Or we could do something boring… like go some place where we can eat.” She paused, then guffawed with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Ooooh, I made a little joke there, an’ you missed it. When I said ‘eat,’ I meant it as in ‘eat pussy’. I guess you never did that.”

I stared at her, feeling my face get hot. Of course, I knew what eating pussy meant. It’s just that cunnilingus wasn’t a topic I was used to discussing so freely.

Siobhan wasn’t fazed in the least. She took hold of my hand, lifted it to my mouth. “Taste me, Megan. Just like I did with you yesterday. Bet you’ll like it.”

My first impulse was to pull away… but that was the old me. Now I was curious to know the flavour of her cunt. Taking a finger into my mouth, I sucked on it. The taste was… not what I expected. It was naughty, it was heady and delicious, it was her. I wanted more.

Then and there, I knew I would be going down on Siobhan as soon as I was able. I longed to fuck her with my tongue, to have her essence coating my lips and chin, to hear the girl’s cries of passion fill the air.  Luckily, I had just enough self-restraint to keep myself from getting down on my knees right then, tugging  her knickers off and going to work.

She pressed a hand into my lap. “Ever had your pussy eaten?”

I shrugged. “Not very well. A couple of my boyfriends did it to me every now and then, but…”

Siobhan was already shaking her head. “Blokes don’t know what it’s about, I reckon.” She drew closer, grazing my ear with her lips. “I’ve not had it done to me, either… nor done it myself. You’ll be the first. We could do it this very afternoon, if you like. Care to let this girl eat your… cunt out?”

I knew I was blushing, but my excitement was at fever pitch as I murmured, “I was wondering, Shav. Shall we forget about going for coffee, McDonald’s, the cinema or whatever else… and just go back to my flat?”

“What?” she cried out in mock outrage. “Miss out on McDonald’s?” Then she giggled. “Sounds grand. There’s a stop just comin’ up, you wanna get off?”

Oh, I did. I seriously wanted to get off! By then, I was aroused all over again, my pussy practically aching for release.

We descended to the lower level and made our exit. I saw the driver grinning as we went by him. Fuck me, I’d forgotten all about the onboard webcam! He must have had a pretty good idea of what we’d been up to. Embarrassed though I was, I still held my head high as we disembarked.

Siobhan and I laughed ourselves silly as we crossed over the road to wait for the return. The bus stop was deserted, so I turned her to face me, cupping her face in my hands.

I was about to to whisper, I love you, Siobhan. But she spoke first.  “I know, Megan. Though it’s only been a week since we met, you love me. ‘Tis because I’m an Oirish witch, and that I am, to be sure. And you, my black-haired beauty… I love you, too, and I can’t wait for us to have our first fuck.”

The end.

I know some will be shouting – why does it end here? It would be so easy to write more. Yet, for me, the story is told. Any more is for you to imagine.