Hate to Say I Told You So: Part 7

Part 7:  Follow the Lollypop Guild

"Where are we?"  Abby asked while lying on her back in the middle of a green field of grass beneath a bright blue and white sky.  She was still dizzy from the transport and the kaleidoscopic colors still danced at the corners of her eyes.  Her ears still rang with, "miles and miles..."

"Shh,"Troy Green, Associate Professor of Ethnology and Comparative Religions scolded his buxom companion, Abby Bancroft, Krav Maga instructor, "We might be on the ramparts of the Wizardess' fortress."

Dartegnan Pneumann, father of abducted daughter, Susan,  managed to stick his head up.  With his long neck he managed to barely glimpse over the tops of the grass and saw an adorably quaint village to his right, "Do you think her fortress is in that village?"

"What?"  Troy sat up and immediately wished he hadn't.  "That's the last time I pick a song spell from the 60's" he moaned and flopped back down.

"Troy," Abby said with some urgency.

"No, leave me be a moment.  My head is spinning, but the kids will be alright."

"Troy," there was even more urgency and Dart had joined in.

"No."  Troy said emphatically and managed to slur the short word, "I need rest.  The Wizardess' fortress is in fact a castle, which is, as I saw from my very quick, but thorough, long distance recon, all the way over there."  He waved over his head in the opposite direction from the village.

"Troy, the village is - "

"Of no concern to us.  Our goal is the castle, though I admit I expected it to be much closer."  He propped himself up on his elbows, but let his head hang down to look backwards as the castle.  "Much closer and less pink."

"Troy!"  Both Dart and Abby yelled.

"Troy?  Troy Green?"  A small, high, wizened voice crackled.

"Where?"  Troy sat up.  "Who else has my name?"

"Who else indeed?"

The trio all sat up and looked around themselves.  They were surrounded by small people, each carrying a drum or flute.  They looked ready to use them.

The musically armed posse were each brightly dressed in shades of a single color, but none exactly like another.  One particular drummer seemed better fed and perhaps more muscular than the others.  He wore a star on his blue jacket.  The woman beside him carried a pan flute and wore a red sash over the red jacket of a reddish suit.  Beside her was another woman, taller, thinner, younger, with wild blond hair all dressed in yellow.  She alone had a national guitar.

It was from behind these three that at elderly voice came, fragile yet playful.  It laughed.

"Who are you and why did you come here?"  The man in blue demanded.

"Troy Green, I told you," the still invisible voice said.

Troy got to his feet slowly and cautiously, more because that was the only way he could move than from a fear of the villagers.  He looked around the field they stood in, "This is public land, isn't it?"

The woman in red puffed her chest and looked sternly.  The woman in yellow arranged herself like she was about to do a Pete Townsend windmill and lay some serious power chords on them.  The man in blue looked irritated and hooked his thumbs in his belt, "Listen here.  I'm Sherriff Rufus and this is Mayor Sallee and Wizardess Areelee.  Although you are on public land we reserve the right to question any transdimensional travelers within a five mile range of our village.  Who are you and why are you here?"

"Troy Green!"  The invisible voice shrieked.

"Sherriff Rufus, I am indeed Troy Green, and my companions are the lovely Abby and the dashing Dart."

"Why are you here?"

"Let me ask you a question, if it has nothing to do with your village then why do you care?  Why the armed band, what has you so concerned?"

"Do you know where you are?"  Rufus asked.

"Some land primarily administered by the Brixies, I imagine a valley tucked away somewhere.  It's delightful by the way."

The mayor smiled and said, "Thank you," before she regained her composure and returned to her stern gaze.

"Is that the way it works?"  Dart asked.

"Primarily," Troy turned to speak to Dart.  He wobbled quite a bit when he did and the group surrounding them all raised their instruments to the ready.  "Sorry," Troy said to them, "I was just going to explain to my companion that most Brixies prefer to keep to themselves in far off corners of the world, either that of hidden parts of cities.  Did you ever notice how most buildings don't have a thirteenth floor?  Or do they?"

"This is not a valley, or even Earth."  Wizardess Areelee said, he voice was surprisingly beautiful and musical despite her look which conjured up images of a screaming banshee.

The old voice finally broke through the three officials and he brought a face with him.  An ancient looking Brixie poked his mostly bald head between the hips of Mayor Salee and Wizardess Areelee, "It's a pocket universe, created by the Witch," the old man pointed a crooked finger toward the castle, "Hello Troy, my boy.  Good to see you again."

"Bukus, my dear old friend!"  Troy scrambled over and got on his knees to hug the old Brixie.  "How did you get here?   I thought you were living in Patagonia like a king."

"I was, but the village here needed help so I followed them here, though they don't appreciate my help."  He shot a sneer at the Brixies around him.

"We don't need another Wizard," Areelee said.

"It's not like you've been any help anyway.  We're still here," Mayor Salee said.

"Where is here, what is here, what's a pocket universe and why are you in it?"

"A while back the Witch created this pocket universe as her own personal domain."

"Or discovered it," Areelee said.

"The Wizardess has her own theories, which may very well be valid.  Regardless of the universe's origin, the Witch has made it her headquarters and fortress.  She ripped a chunk out of Earth to make it more habitable and stole this village to help keep the land."

"To be her slaves," The mayor said.

"More like serfs," Bukus said.

"But why?"  Abby asked.

"We think she's in league with the Guns of Brixton."

"Isn't she human?  What do the Guns want from a human witch?"

"She has a very powerful army -"

"See!"  Dart said, "She she's probably kidnapped Susan to try to get the Hammer of the Gods.  I'll be she doesn't even want you."

Troy shrugged, "Some women do."

"There's another thing, "Sherriff Rufus said, "She has a fleet of flying monkeys."

"Of course she does," Abby said.

"Flying monkeys?"  Dart asked.

"Yes," Bukus said, "Just like those." He pointed to the group flying in tight formation from the castle.

"That looks bad," Troy said.

"It is," Rufus said, "Run!"   

As they were running the villagers played their instruments haphazardly.  It was more cacophony than music and had little effect.  Before they made it to the village the monkeys were above them.  Rather than having separate wings they looked like a cross between flying squirrels, bats and baboons.  They all wore helmets with spikes on them.

One of the monkeys had three bright metal pips on his helmet.  He carried what looked like a megaphone.

"I see you're prepared to pay my ransom, even though I hadn't told you what it was," a woman's voice came from the megaphone.

"In case you didn't know, this is the Witch, Kirke and I am very pleased with my ransom reward, however since you did not pay him to me you forfeit your daughter."

Troy pulled out an harmonica while he ran.  He turned and planted his feet to play, but as he took a deep breath a monkey swooped down and knocked it out of his mouth.

Dart drew his sword.

Another monkey hit Troy in the chest and knocked the wind out of him before he could even sing.

Two more hit Dart and Abby in the back, tumbling them to the ground in surprise.

Three monkeys swooped onto Troy before he fell and carried him away, one on each arm and one holding his mouth.

The megaphone laughed, cackled a moment, then resumed laughing as Troy was flown off in the direction of the castle.

Hate to Say I Told You So: Part 6

Part 6:  Over Hills and Far Away

"Could I have a glass of water?"  Senaka Lincoln asked Maggie Pipp.  She stood shakily from casting her singing spell over the tiny droplets of blood.  Each droplet seemed to be vibrating in rhythm and Maggie wondered if it wasn't her imagination that she could hear the music they made.

"Were you successful?"

"I think so, but making magic always dries my mouth so."

Maggie fetched a glass of water from the kitchen.  When she brought it to Senaka the darker woman had been joined by the heavyset Jonny, the androgynous Sailor and a withered old man with dark leather skin and a ring of pure white around the back of his head.  He wore thick glasses and carried an ancient acoustic guitar.

"Ole-Man Rivers I'd like to introduce Margaret, "Maggie" Pipp, private detective and bedmate of Troy Green." Senaka said.

Ole-Man extended his hand and smiled broadly.  He had a full mouth of yellow, but straight, real teeth.  "Delighted to meet you Ms. Pipp.  They call me Ole-Man, though I've no idea a'tal why.  Ole-Man Rivers, and I must say it is a pure pleasure to meet someone so lovely as you, absolutely a pleasure."

"Thank you," Maggie took his rough and hard hand in a strong shake.

"Whelp, might as well get to hunting.  Where we headed?"

"I've cast a spell on the blood, I suspect it will lead us to the hospital or aid station they took the Gun."

"Guns, eh?"  Ole-Man adjusted his guitar on his chest and played a few notes.  "What tune we using to hunt them?"

"I was thinking of 'Further On Up the Road.'"

"Johnny Cash or Robert Jordan?"

"Why do you even have to ask?" Jonny said.

"Cash's tune is a good one, full of pain and longing, traveling and meeting."

"No magic stronger than Robert Jordan's," Sailor said.

"True, but I didn't want to assume nothing."

"Did you know Robert Jordan?"  Jonny asked with a smile.

"Stole this here guitar out his dead hands," Ole-Man quipped back and started strumming a blues progression.

Senaka touched Maggie's arm, "We're all going to cast a spell and travel by magic.  Do you have any weapons?"

"Um, some pepper spray I guess.  I'm not really that kind of detective.  I'm more the computer intelligence gathering type."

"That's fine.  Can you sing?"

Maggie's eyebrows did a bit of a dance as she struggled to decide how to answer, "Yes?"

"If you can harmonize and you know the tune then join in, but if you don't think you can, it's find you don't.  We'll all sit in a circle around the drops and hold hands.  No one will get lost."

They did exactly like Senaka described.  Jonny helped Ole-Man to sit.  They all crossed legs and took each other's hands except Senaka and Jonny on either side of Ole-Man each grabbed a belt loop so his hands would be free to play.

"Ready," Maggie said, but none seemed to be listening.

The song began.

Maggie was not that familiar with Robert Jordan.  She knew that he was a famous Blues musician who was rumored to have sold his soul to the devil for musical talent.  Maggie was only familiar with the Eric Clapton version of the song.

As Ole-Man played, Maggie wondered if he hadn't sold his soul as well, the music was every bit as good as Clapton and maybe even better.  When it was time for the singing part though, it was Jonny that actually led the group.

"Further on up the road
Someone's gonna hurt you like you hurt me.
Further on up the road
Someone's gonna hurt you like you hurt me.
Further on up the road,
Baby, just you wait and see."

His voice was soulful, throaty, manly and lusty.  On the second stanza Senaka joined in.

"You gotta reap just what you sow;
That old saying is true.
You gotta reap just what you sow;
That old saying is true.
Just like you mistreat someone,
Someone's gonna mistreat you."

The room started to vibrate.  It flowed like a hot breeze rising from the delta, swirling around, through their hair, through their clothes, into their souls.  It made Maggie feel lightheaded, but she bounced and swayed to the rhythm, just like the others.

Sailor joined in song, and Ole-Man hummed along, his guitar driving the tune, rippling through reality, opening eyes and minds and doorways.

"Further on up the road."

There was a road.  They spun round in their circle, cross-legged by floating on the music rather than sitting on the floor, the road stretched before them, but they moved along it, bouncing and sliding.

The road seemed to lead right into a room.  Their dirt country road spilled itself onto the wooden floor of a large bedroom.  The circle of singers suddenly found themselves seated cross-legged on the floor.

The room was full of Brixies.  Some were being bandaged, some bandaging, and others questioning the bandagees.  The questioners were the first to spot them and they did not look happy.

Maggie's head was full and wavering, like she had just had a very strong drink.  Senaka struggled to unfold her legs and stand up, cursing lightly under her breath.  Sailor and surprisingly Jonny sprang to their feet, seemingly ready for a brawl.

None of the Brixies were lavishly dressed, but one seemed more put together, cooler and more powerful than the others.  He turned slowly to look at the newly arrived, his arms folded.

Ole-Man had stopped strumming, but had made no attempt to rise.  He hung his head and said, "Too close, far too close.  Damn we're too good for our own good."

The Brixie leader gave a Shere Kahn smile, "So it would seem interlopers, so it would seem."

Hate to Say I Told You So: Part 5

Bigger Hole to Fill

"I like that attitude, girl," Senaka Lincoln told Detective Maggie Pipp.  "Troy, did they bleed?"

"I'll show you," Maggie said.

"Sailor, go get Ole-Man up here, we're hunting Brixies."  Senaka instructed the androgynous person of their group who nodded and dashed off.

"Are just the four of you going to go after them?  There were a dozen of them and I'm sure there were more where they came from.  What about the rest of the band?"

"We'll keep them on call, just in case.  Jonny, would send the little bird?"

The flush heavyset young bald man nodded and pulled a ceramic bird from inside his jacket.  He held it close to his mouth and began to whistle.  The song was intricate and beautiful, whistled incredibly well by a master, but it was dark and full of menace.  Maggie had never heard a whistle with so much ill portent.  As the song grew Jonny's eyes seemed to take on that shine a drunkards do when he begins a bottle.

Eventually the bird sounded like it was echoing the song, in a hollow, clear flute of its own.  It matched Jonny's song until it began to move and floated out of his hand.  On a rainbow of music the porcelain bird darted out the window and into the sky.

"Homing pigeon?" Maggie asked.

"Something like that," Senaka said.  "When the others get up here we will circle some of the spilled blood from the Brixies and begin the spell that should take us to them."

There wasn't much blood, just a few tiny drops here and there, mostly from Dart's strikes to heads or from mouths struck by Abby.  Maggie let them to the only drop that still seemed wet.

"If it takes us right to them, won't they be expecting us?"  Maggie asked.

"They'll be expecting us to track them through the Hammer itself, still we will have to be very careful about our song so that we harmonize, not chorus.  Please be quiet now," she bent over the drop and began to sing softly to it.  It was a quiet call and response.  Senaka would sing and listen to the response.  She swayed as she did it and Maggie could see her lips move, but she could hear almost nothing.

"Right, "Troy whispered, "We'll have to do something along the same lines.  Abby, why don't you get dressed and meet Dart and me in the office?"

She nodded and was gone in a flash.

"What's in the office?"  Dart asked.

"It has soundproofing.  I trust you have something of your daughters by which we can track her?"

"I have photos, I don't think anything else."

"Digital photos are far less than ideal, however she has half your genetics, that should help."

"Just the three of us are going after a wizardess and a pack of goons?"

"She is after me, Dart, so I suspect she will not anticipate my getting closer to her, also, I am a very powerful wizard, very powerful indeed."

"Yes you are," Abby had returned and nuzzled him close to him from behind.  Troy turned to admire her.

She wore her medium length hair in a wide violet ribbon and a summer dress different from the long black dress she had worn to the wedding the previous night.  She had replaced her heels with ballet flats, and carried her purse.

"You are quick.  Where did those clothes come from?"  Troy smiled.

"I was a Girl Scout, don't you know," she patted her purse and kissed him.  He returned her kiss a moment before he continued speaking to Dart, "Finally, you are quite handy with the stick and Abby is a mistress with the kicks.  I've no doubt of our success."

He held the office door open.

"I did mean to compliment you on that hockey-stick play this morning, "Abby said impressed.

"Well," Dart shrugged, "With a name like D'Artagnan you'd better be able to handle a sword.  I started with high school fencing, then kendo, then medieval swordplay, quarterstaff, bo, hanbo, and finally a little hockey.  I've never seen moves like you pulled this morning.  That was truly amazing and stunning to watch."

Abby smiled, "In addition to aerobics, yoga, Pilates and tai chi; I teach jujitsu and krav maga."

"Impressive," Dart said.

"Very impressive," Troy added and kissed her on the neck.

"And you are sure this wizardess wants you as an erotic toy; there could be no other motive?"

"No," Troy kissed Abby on the lips, "It is plain as day, which is why we specifically must be the ones to go after her."

They were just entering the office, but from across the room Senaka snorted derisively.  Laughing she lifted her head from her song-spell, "Won't you get a room, all these jokes are breaking my concentration."

"She doesn't think it could be that," Dart said.

"She's jealous," Abby said.  Dart remained unconvinced.

They entered the office and closed the door firmly.  Troy went to a wooden display case next to the one that had held the Hammer of the Gods.  He handed the contents, a sword and scabbard to Dart.

Dart took them and looked the sword over.  It was a plain and simple yet elegant and exquisite small-sword.  He gave it two practice swings and two perfect tones sang from it, as if the greatest soprano were singing to her lover, or angels were blowing across the strings of a Stradivarius.

"It's a singing sword," Troy beamed.

"Really?"  Dart sheathed the sword.

Troy shrugged, "I'm a collector."  He looked around the room and clapped his hands.  "You can both sing, right?"

Dart and Abby nodded.

"Hmm, we need something strong, powerful, demanding, something we three can sing, I believe rock, hard, metal, yes, I think I have the appropriate song.  Do you both know, 'I Can See for Miles' by The Who?"

"Yes."

Troy didn't say another word, but belted out the opening line, "I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise.  I know that you have 'cause there's magic in my eyes."

They all joined in, "I can see for miles and miles and miles..."

The song went on, winding around them.  It didn't take long before the room was spinning psychedelia.  A kaleidoscopic tube grew round them opening on a scene of green and blue and white, gold and silver, ivory, ruby, emerald, sapphire.

The song twisted and turned for, "Miles and miles and miles and miles" as they slid through the tube of color and music up and down, round and round until the tube ended, gently dropping them through the hole at the end into a whole new world.

Hate to Say I Told You So: Part 4

Join Together With the Band

"What is that?"  Dart insisted as all the doors and windows of Troy Green's apartment suddenly, magically flew open.

"Hello in the house!"  Called an alto woman's voice, clear and melodic.   Then came a chorus of at least three harmonized voices, "Is everything alright?"

The four at the breakfast nook, Troy, Abby Bancroft, Maggie Pipp and Dart Pneuman suddenly felt safer and happier than they had before the doors had opened.  They followed Troy as he got up and all closed doors and windows as they moved to the front door.

Troy sang out, "Welcome to the band!"

In the front room, coming in the door were three people who couldn't have been more different.  They were led by a tall, leggy woman with ebony skin and caramel-cotton candy hair.  Her clothes were well tailored, but oddly mismatched in color.  She was followed by a young, but heavy bald man the color of an uncooked crab and covered with acne scars.  The third person was almost indescribable only because it was nearly impossible to say anything definite about the person, not hair, eye or skin color; not height or weight; not shape or even gender.  The only thing that could be said was the person looked healthy in a loose fitting top and jeans.

"This is your band?"  Dart asked.

"Don't I remember it being bigger last night?"  Maggie asked.

"This is just most of the rhythm section.  This is Senaka Lincoln."

The dark woman smiled and said, "Bass."  She held up the electric bass in her hands.

"Jonny Wales, piano," Troy continued.

"Pleased to meet you," the heavy man said in a tenor voice with a Welsh accent and yellow but straight teeth.  The others would have thought of it as a British accent.  He was carrying an amp for Senaka's bass.

"And this is Sailor Yamidori, our drummer.  I imagine Ole-Man Rivers couldn't make it up the stairs."

"He's in the van," Senaka said.  She was watching the women, and smiling at Troy.  "He won't drive it," she explained to them, "but he loves to sit in it."

"We all had attack nightmares and then this morning, we heard the didgeridoo and figured we best come straight away."

"That instrument is strictly defensive, and very powerful," Troy explained.  "We were accosted, but made good account of ourselves until -"

"I think your good account started last night."  Senaka smiled at Maggie and Abby, who both smiled back and each grabbed one of Troy's hands.  Senaka laughed.

"What's an attack nightmare?"  Maggie asked.

"Someone can enter your mind through your dreams and enchant you.  If you are familiar with magic you can defend against it, otherwise you might just wake up with a desire to do something you hadn't thought to do before."

"It's like long distance hypnotism."  Troy said, "What was the nature?"

"Trying to find you I think," Senaka said, the other two agreed.

"I got a feminine sense too," Jonny added.

"Then it's not likely our attackers.  I can't imagine they were only just trying to find my location the night before an attack like that.  They made off with the Hammer of the Gods."

"I thought you made a good account of yourself?"  Senaka was suddenly angry.

"We did," Maggie institsted, "They rescued me and drove off the attackers."

"None of that means anything if they use the Hammer.  Did he tell you about it?"

"He did," Abby said, "and we were just going to go after it."

"And my daughter.  If this attack nightmare wasn't about this Hammer, maybe it was about her."

"Yes," Troy said, his hand on his chin thinking, "Tell me more about the dream."

"Are you kidding," Senaka said, "We need to go after the ones that got the Hammer.

"We have to do both.  Jonny, what was that about a feminine feel?"

"There was desire there, I think, and sexuality."

"You always want sexuality in your dreams," Senaka said.

"I think there were monkeys and dancing."  Sailor nodded behind him.

"That's it, Dart," Troy said.  He turned to the bandmembers, "Dart Pneuman came to me this morning for help, as he daughter was abducted last night at a wedding by a woman and dark henchmen."

He turned to Dart, "The Wizardess has kidnapped your daughter and used the attack nightmares to find me."

"But why?"  Dart asked.

"Isn't it obvious?  She's infatuated with me and wants to trap me into a sexual prison of her own misguided desires."

Senaka laughed and Dart looked confused.  Maggie squeezed Troy's hand, stepped closer to him and batted her eyes while nodding.

Abby looked furious, "I am willing to share, but I will never let you be taken like that.  Just let the bitch try.  We are going after her!"

Senaka forced herself to straighten up and wiped tears from her eyes, "That actually makes some sense.  Jonny, Sailor, Ole-Man and I can go after the Hammer.  You don't know where they took it do you?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"I'm going with you," Maggie said.

"Us?"  Senaka asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Margret Pipp, Private Detective and I'm the kidnap victim that's going to come back and bite them in the behind."

Hate to Say I Told You So: Part 3

Hammer of the Gods

"It is said that when one strikes the Bell of the Universe with the Hammer of the Gods the path between worlds will open.  Some devout Brixies want to do this in order to enter a parallel universe in which Homo sapiens died out and only the Brixies are left.  Such a world is like heaven to them.  They call it Brixton.

"Some say that ringing the bell and rending the veil between universes will destroy them.  Some say it will destroy only ours.  Could you please pass the butter?"

Troy, Maggie, Abby and Dart were all sitting around Troy's breakfast nook table.  Abby had made an omelet for each of them, but only Troy ate as the others just sat and listened to him.

Doctor Troy Green drank some coffee and delightfully chewed his mushroom and cheese omelet. 

They were all dressed: Maggie in the clothes she had worn the previous night, only at this time they were all completely on; Dart still wore the tux he came in on; and Abby was in Troy's robe.  Troy had washed and dressed in a tweed jacket, sweater vest, violet paisley tie, wool trousers with cargo pockets and boots.  The bulges of harmonicas were obvious in his pockets.

"This is delightful, Abby.  Everyone, eat up." 

Abby, sensing her food would freeze on the plate, took a bite.  Dart's cell rang and he took it in the other room.  While he was gone Maggie tried the omlet and enjoyed it so much that she nearly finished it by the time Dart came back.

"That was my wife.  They were waiting for them when they got back to my house.  They took Barb and said they would let us know how we could get her back later.  They were the same little men, these, what did you call them, Brixies.  What is a Brixie?"  Dart asked, "Why are they involved with my daughter's abduction?"

Troy held up his empty fork, "Complicated and I don't know."  He filled his fork, filled his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"Brixies are a race of people, not at all closely related to Homo sapiens.  They are at least as intelligent as us, and as old a race, but they are not in the genus Homo nor did they evolve the way we did.  They have been beside or with us for many millennium.  

"Often they've been mistaken for Little People, fairies, pixies and such.  They do know and are capable of magic.  In fact, I learned my magic from Brixie friends.  The ones that came here and stole the Hammer were from a sect that calls themselves the Guns of Brixton, dedicated to bringing about or even hastening the rise of Brixton.  Whether they or any other Brixies are involved with your daughter's abduction or who this wizard woman is, I don't know."  He shrugged, "The more pressing matter is, they've likely taken the hammer to -"

"Well, I'd like to know," Dart said.  "I thought you could help me."

Troy nodded, "I did give you that indication and I will help you.  The trouble is, I have very little information and two completely different sources.  You know your daughter was taken away and we have not been given the reason or ransom demand yet.  I know the Hammer of the Gods has been taken away and what they plan on doing with it.

"I can't take a chance with something of this magnitude.  I must go after the Hammer first.  I don't ask any of you to come with, but I would appreciate and benefit if Abby would."

Dart slammed his palm on the table and stood, "I realize the world MAY end, but I know my daughter is in trouble and needs help.  I don't want to wait on the ransom demand, I want action now."

Maggie spoke up.  She had been so silent it caused everyone to turn in silence, though she didn't speak loudly at all, "Why don't we do both?  Abby and I know Troy is very capable at handling two issues at the same time."  She was smiling when she started, but the blush blossomed on her face until even her ears were red.  She hid both her embarrassment and arousal by taking a large forkful of omelet and focusing on its delightful taste.

Troy cleared his throat and purposefully avoided Abby's smile, "Let's formulate a plan then.  The problem is, although I can handle, ahem, two issues at once; I cannot be in two places at once.  Only I know how to handle the Guns, and I'm the only one in the room that knows magic."

"Do we need magic to follow up on Dart's wizardess?"  Abby asked.

"What?"  Dart asked as he sat back down.

"You said you have too little information," Abby continued.  "Why not let us gather information from Dart's problem.  That's what we need now, so we will be prepared when the ransom comes."

"Yes," Maggie said, "I can lead that."

"You can?"  Dart, Abby and Troy asked.

"Yes," she said as if saying, "Duh!"  She took another forkful of omelet, chewed and let them lean closer and closer.  "I'm a detective, didn't you know?"

Abby and Troy turned and stared at each other, "I had no idea," they chorused.  "What sort?"  Abby asked.

Dart looked at all of them for a moment, "You three were sleeping together, weren't you?"  He asked, his face brightening in knowledge, "And none of you know who the other is, do you?"

"I work for a private detective firm in Chicago called Acme Ace Advanced Detective Service."

Abby smiled broadly, "This sounds like a good idea.  Troy and I will pursue the Guns of Brixton, and Maggie - "

"They know nothing of magic.  Despite what I'm sure are excellent investigative skills, young Detective Pipp would not know what to look for nor how."

"We have to try, don't we?"  Dart said.

Troy opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by a bass chord at least as loud as the magical notes he had played on the didgeridoo.  The vibrations permeated them all and they could feel another magical spell winding its way around and through them.

The chord pounded again.  Then on the third time all the windows and doors, including the oven and microwave, opened at the same time.

Hate to Say I Told You So, Part 2

The Guns of Brixton

Troy put the didgeridoo to his lips and began to blow.  The tones came out with an unexpected power, a beauty entrancing.  He weaved the instrument through the air and the music followed developing, growing, becoming physical.  The colors of the room swam and time seemed to slow.

The invaders drew truncheons from within their hoods.  The ones holding Maggie Pipp yanked her back by the hair.  Others moved forward on Abby, who dropped to the ground.

Troy stood weaving a spell all around the room.  While it developed, slowing growing, blossoming, spreading; Dart stepped out of the office brandishing a hockey stick as a kendo shinai.  With a shrill cry he leapt at the intruders.

As four of the strangers neared Abby, prostrate on the floor, she spun and with a leg sweep took down two assailants.  In one graceful movement she was up with their truncheons in each hand.  She became beautiful mayhem.  Her movements were graceful, fluid, expert and precise.  She looked like she was dancing through the men, striking and bringing them down.

In their defense, it is quite distracting to get your butt handed to you by a beautiful naked woman using what looks like gymnastic ballet moves.

Dart too was having quite a bit of success.  His long, thin limbs in black tie made him look like a cross between one of Sinbad's fighting skeletons and Jack Skellington, but the reach and skill were masterfully effective.  The intruders fell left and right.  Though many of them returned to their feet, they didn't remain there long.

Even Maggie was fighting back.  She brought her foot up behind her to plant her heal in the groin of one of her restrainers.  She stamped down on the instep of the other, though in her bare feet the effect was painful but not debilitating.

The music Troy was knitting through the room was starting to envelope them all palpably.  There was a feeling of the magic through them, touching their souls.

Suddenly, just as Abby's foot arched to land on a face, the face was gone.  The owner of the face had vanished.

Across the room, as Dart was swinging down to waylay one of the interlopers still holding Maggie, that man too vanished, blinked away.

Maggie, finding a hand free, swung a fist at the other detainer.  Again, the blow was too light to make any real impact, but as it struck home he disappeared.

The music built up, layering upon itself.  It seemed that notes, chords, the tune itself was lingering and lacing itself around the gatecrashers.  Suddenly, in a great crescendo, with music filling the room, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, the climax was reached and every hooded ruffian ceased to be there.

The whirling Amazonian devastation came to a halt near Troy, who, as he took the tubular instrument from his mouth, pulled Abby to him and kissed her long and deep.  She came away smiling.

"Who were they?"  Dart asked.

"What did they want?"  Maggie asked.

"Hammer of the Gods, Guns of Brixton," Troy slurred slightly.

There was a crashing sound from the office.  They rushed into the room, led by Troy.  There they found a case shattered and a hooded intruder standing with a meter long bell mallet in his hands.  He threw his head back and sang a single note, pure and clear.  Then he vanished.

"That was the Hammer of the Gods?"

"Hammers, mallets, same thing, translation error," Troy shrugged.  "Let's have that coffee and brush our teeth.  I have to make a few phone calls.  Then I'll go after him."

"Coffee?  Don't we need to go now?"  Abby asked.

"Listen, I need coffee right now.  Also, I am brushing my teeth and getting dressed.   I have no intention of gallivanting around Arthur Dent-esque."

Hate to Say I Told You So - Part 1

Kiss Off

"Troy Green!"

The pounding was incessant.

"Mr. Green!" 

He wondered how on earth she was able to keep up that level of knocking on apartment door.

He rolled over and bumped into a girl.  He hadn't remembered there being a girl there, hadn't remembered bringing her home; but he had done a lot of magic the previous night.

When he bumped her she groaned and slid out her side of the bed.  The sound of it was like the toll booth warning strips to his hung-over ears.

"I think someone's at the door.  I gotta pee."  She stood and walked naked to the bathroom.  She was far too skinny for her own good and far too young for his.

"Mr. Green?"  The voice was plaintive, and he realized the pounding was mostly in his own head.  He took a deep breath, grit his teeth and got himself up.  His world spun for a moment.  He waited for it to stop before he put a robe over his boxers and went to answer the door.

In the front room of his Chicago two flat he found another girl, or rather he found a woman, healthier and older than his bedmate.  She was under blankets on the couch but he would have guessed she too was naked.  He had done a lot of magic the night before.

The knocking and calling had stopped.  He picked up his pace and answered the door as quickly as he could while fighting back vomit.

Beyond the door was no one, the hallway empty.

"May I help you?"  He called, cursing his esoteric oath under his breath.

"Um, Mr. Green?"  A woman called from outside his field of view.

"Doctor, actually; may I help you?"

A head appeared just above the floor from the stairway below.  It was not the head of a woman unless she was the kind of woman with a full beard and male patterned baldness.  His very high pitched voice matched his body like fingernails match a chalkboard (go ask your grandfather what a chalkboard is).

He walked back up the stairs, getting taller and taller until Troy expected him to have to duck or hit his head on the ceiling. The ring of hair starting above his ears was long and braided.  He wore a soiled, wrinkled and skewed tuxedo.

He smiled hopefully at Troy and stuck out a boat oar of a hand.  "I'm D'Artagnan Pneuman.  The "P" is silent."

"Of course it is."

"I'm so glad you're home.  I'm a very desperate man."

"Why don't you come inside and sit down before I fall down.  What did you say your name was?"

"D'Artagnan Pneuman, P-N-E-U-M-A-N, like pneumonia.  My friends call me, 'Dart' for short."

"I refuse to believe there is anything short about you."

Dart laughed and a girl slipped out the door while the men were trying to go in.

"I think you just lost a friend," Dart said.

"He has plenty," a deep womanly voice said from the kitchen.  Troy expected the older one would be difficult to dislodge.  It was the skinny one that had scampered out, wearing some clothes and clutching the rest.

"Can I get you two gentlemen some coffee?"  Her voice was deep and rich like Kathleen Turner eating dark chocolate covered strawberries.  She was at least ten years older than Troy, curvy but fit, she wore the blanket seductively off her shoulders and one ashen lock fell over an eye.  It made Troy stammer.

"In my office, please," Troy pointed in the direction of the office and then forced his feet to follow his finger.  He just had to remember her name, or at lease who she was. 

He led Dart into a book, artifact and musical instrument filled room.  Dart had to duck under each doorway.

"Have a seat, Mr. Pneuman and tell me why you're desperate."

"A curse has been put on my house and family.  My daughter has been put under a magical spell and I think she is going to be kidnapped today."

"What makes you think that?"

"I got this note," he handed Troy a small scrap of velum.  In a brown ink it said, "We're coming to get Barbara tomorrow."

"Can you help us, Dr. Green?"

"You got this at the wedding, no?"

"What?  How did you know we were at a wedding?"

"The tux."

"It was Susan's wedding, Barbara's sister.  We were all having a lovely time.  Everyone was dancing and then the music got louder and faster, and faster.  It was too fast but nobody could stop dancing.  Suddenly it stopped and a woman appeared on the stage with the band.  The room was also surrounded by dark, ominous figures in robes, or hooded sweatshirts.

"The woman raised a stick and waived it around.  Then she sang some chant I couldn't understand.  The hoodie guys sang too.  They started swaying until suddenly Barbara collapsed in the middle of the floor."

"Staff."

"What?"

"She had a staff, not a stick.  Go on."

"Barbara fell to the floor.  The band tried to grab the old woman, but she snatched up the accordion, squeezed it and with a G minor chord she vanished.  One of the hoodie fellas gave me the note."

"A G minor chord, hmm."

"Can you help us?"  Dart asked, but his voice seemed to be deeper on certain words.

"Say that again."

"Help, can you help us?"

That time it was clear that the words, "Help" were far deeper and coming from the other room.

Doctor Troy Green sprang from his chair and snatching a didgeridoo from beside the office door he rushed into the front room.

The older woman, Abby, Abby Bancroft, mother of the groom, what a relief that was to Troy.  Abby was standing naked in the front room with the blanket she had been wearing fallen around her.

Also around her, around the room in fact were a dozen or so stocky short figures in hoods. One of which was holding the younger woman, Maggie Pipp, boy it was all coming back to him now.

"Give us what we want, Green or the girls get it," the leader said menacingly.

Troy Green Associate Professor of Ethnology and Comparative Religions brandished his oddly painted and carved Australian Aboriginally inspired musical instrument and said, "Kiss off!"

Altered Goals

I thought I would be posting a lot this month with an in-depth discussion about my goals for 2014.  As I've struggled to get almost anything done this moth I've realized that I need to make my goals very, very limited.

Things that are important to me include a lot of things, but I just can't do everything.  In fact, I can't really do very much since I am pretty slow in developing skills / learning and reading.  I also do not have very much time to myself.

I'm interested in (in no particular order):

• Archaeology
• Anthropology
• Sports (watching)
• Hockey
• Rugby
• Football
• Sports (participating)
• Swimming
• In-line skating
• Rugby
• Hockey (wish I could)
• Joining some sort of team
• Sailing
• Short fiction writing
• Horror
• Fantasy
• Mystery
• Sci-Fi
• Comedy
• Audio Drama
• Novel writing (same genres as my short fiction)
• Bike commuting
• Podcasting
• Old Time Radio
• Pets
• Getting another Bearded Dragon
• Getting a dog
• Pond fish
• Gardening
• Camping
• Boy Scouts, specifically Commissioning
• Girl Scouting
• Deism
• Forestry
• Staying healthy and doing things that will help me prolong my life
• Romance
• Family
• Music
• Ukulele
• Bass (wish I could play)
• Sax
• Wish I could join a band
• History
• Military in general
• WWII era
• Chicago
• Greece
• Astronomy and star gazing
• Greek and Greece
• Family vacation
• Reading

So you can see that there are a lot of things.  A lot of these things have additional expansions below them.  A lot either need a huge investment of time, money or both.  Some of these things are very personal, some are charitable and some are involved with others in a mutual nature.

Even when I start to narrow down the list or prioritize it so that I can develop goals I end up adding more and more.

Previously I listed five areas for goals:

1. Greek
2. Archaeology
3. Writing
4. New Job
5. Commissioning

I left off a health oriented goal, but two weeks ago I weighed myself and clearly I need to exercise on a regular basis.  You can see that the goals keep getting scope creep. If I want to change these six to areas of importance rather than goals it might help, but I'm not completely convinced.

I think I need to tighten this very much, man up and focus.

My will make just two goals:

1. Learn Greek
2. Get published

However I will measure everything I do against 7 priority levels:

1. Staying healthy
2. Learning Greek
3. Staying employed
4. Family support (things my family needs me to do)
5. Commissioning
6. Getting published
7. Archaeology

I'm going to talk about my priorities more on Flowers of Mundelein.  I'll track my Greek goal on Flowers and my publishing goals here.

Seekretya Excerpt

Per Spockgirl's request, I've decided to relent and post the first chapter of Seekretya, my latest NaNoWriMo effort.  I hope you all like it and leave many many nice comments (please, please be gentle):

Seekretya

Chapter 1: “School’s out for summer.  School’s out completely.”

“Good bye everyone, have a great summer.”

“Good bye Miss Chantal.”  Most of the first grade class cheered as they filed out of the classroom in an orderly fashion.  Adela Chantal stood behind her desk smiling as they went by.  Then she felt a presence at her right hip.  She turned to see Jacquee Kraepper looking up at her with those big brown eyes.

“Yes Jacquee, may I help you?”

“You look so pretty in your blue dress Miss Chantal.”

“Thank you.  You look pretty in your bows,” she blushed and replied honestly.  Jacquee sighed.

“I hope you and that man have a nice summer.”

“Do you mean Mr. Fisher?”

“Yes, he seems like a nice man and you are such a nice lady.  You should have a nice man.”

“Well, thank you Jacquee.  I do like him a lot.”

Jacquee sighed again, this time with an enormous smile.  “Well, I gotta go.”  And with that she ran out of the classroom.

Adela sighed herself and sat down at her desk.

“Adela are you coming to the happy hour later?”  Debbie Carrie stuck her head in Adela’s classroom.

“No, I have some work to do yet and then I have my second job to get to.”

Monica Olg walked up beside Debbie and asked her in a mumble if Adela were coming.  Debbie shook her head and mouthed the word, “modeling.”

“Do you have a photo-shoot today?”  Monica asked.

Adela shrugged and kept her head down to hide the blush, but her ears turned visibly red and gave her away, “Yes, I have a job later this afternoon.”

Debbie sneered, but Monica stood a bit straighter and tightened her core as best she could.   Debbie nudged her in the ribs and motioned for them to leave.  “Ok then, bye.”

“Bye.”

Monica stayed at the door and wondered at Adela’s hair and her delicate arms and perfect skin.  Debbie hooked her arm with her elbow and pulled.  “Com’on,” she said.

“She seems lonely.”   Monica said when they had stepped away.

“She’s a model, she’s gorgeous.  She’s got all the men she can handle.  Let’s go get a drink.”

Adela arranged the things on her desk and then looked up at the classroom.  She would be teaching summer school in that room so she didn’t have to clean it out, but she and the children had taken down all of their things and they had packed away most of the student materials.  The room looked dead.  The weather wasn’t making her feel any better, outside the sky was filled with clouds and they had decided to be mysterious as to where and when they would rain.  It wasn’t raining on her windows when she looked up, but she could see the other half of the school was getting wet again.

Her phone rang.  It was Jude.  She brightened enough for the whole sky.

“Hi Jude.”

“Hello Adela.  How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she crossed her legs and relaxed at her desk, “How are you?”

“Uh, okay.  I’m okay, I was wondering if you’re free this afternoon after work.”

“Well, I have a bit more paperwork to do, but then I have another job.”

“Where is it?”

“At the studio on Narragansett Avenue.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, why don’t you meet me there?”

“I don’t know.”

“You could see me work and then we could get something to eat.  How does that sound?”

“If you’re there it sounds terrific,” he laughed lightly.

She smiled, “Good, you know where the studio is, right?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Then I’ll see you around five thirty?”

“Yes I think I can make it.”

“You’d better,” she said playfully, but immediately she dropped her smile, “I mean, I hope you do.  I’m looking forward to it.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Thank you.  See you later Jude.”

“Bye.”  He went silent, but didn’t hang up until he heard her hang up.  He always did that.  She smiled, said, “Later” under her breath and clicked the phone off.

After completing her paperwork Adela took her VW Beetle to the studio, nervous as usual.  She didn’t listen to any music and kept drumming her fingers on the wheels.  They would have her clothes there waiting, with the camera and the lights.  Her head started to hurt.

The studio was a storefront operation, with the parking in the rear.  It was always quite busy with people going in and out almost constantly, but you could only get back to the parking lot by going through a narrow opening between the buildings.  Adela parked her car and locked the doors.

“Miss Chantal?”

She jumped, she was so startled.  By an over large, black SUV stood a tall, well-built and well-dressed man in his much later middle ages.  He had a tight beard that was entirely white, white hair in an attractive style and he wore a well-tailored suit, and expensive shoes; and carried a platinum handled cane.

“May I help you?   Do I know you?”  She put her hand in her purse to reach for her phone and her pepper spray.

“There is no need for that,” he said with a clipped British accent, “We do not know each other.  At least, you don’t know me, but I know of you, and I’m here to pick up you.”  He smiled, but it was more like a tiger bearing his teeth than a show of friendship.

“Who are you, what do you mean?”

He took a step toward her, away from his vehicle and stood like he was preparing for a fight, legs widely spaced and on the balls of his feet.  From behind him, four shorter men appeared through the SUV doors. 

They were all about four feet tall with none over four and a half, but they were broader than the older gentleman.  They too all had beards, but theirs were black or dark brown.  They had heavy brows and dark, hairy skin.  They wore dark hoodies that hid their eyes and jeans over heavy boots.  The shorter men moved in to surround her car and Adela.

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

She tried to pull out her cell phone, but a huge, strong hand shot out and pinned her hand before she could get it out.  She followed the hand up the arm to the dark, serious face of the short man.  He snarled at her, but she was glad he made no attempt to get the phone out of her hand.  Though her wrist and arm were immobile she could still move her fingers on the phone.

“What do you want?”  She asked loudly.   “What do you want?”

The tall man smiled, but showed less teeth.  “I told you, we came for you.”

She tried to free her hand, but the hand that held it, though not painful, was immovable, as if she had been locked in handcuffs.  She moved her fingers on the phone inside her purse, unseen from her captors.  If she dialed 911 they would hear the answer, but she could text.  She quickly, blindly texted Jude.  She had never been good at texting and she hoped he got the message.

“Please don’t make it the, ‘hard way.’  I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t mind,” a grumbly voice on her right said.  She glanced to see that it was her captor, still smiling a sneer that made him more hideous than he really was.  His eyes still hidden in shadow.

The tall man stepped up next to her and bent forward slightly.  "My name is Giles.  You are going to get in the vehicle and we are going to the airport."

Giles' breath was fresh and he has a very slight scent of a nice cologne on him.  He smiled.  "You will go with us, I assure you."  He nodded and a second short man grasped her free arm.  Giles stood up and took a step back.  The short men on either side of Adela grasped tighter and lifted her by her arms.

She kicked and twisted; she shouted and looked around to try to get someone's attention, but despite the fact that it was still daylight, there was not a soul around.   The only entrance on the parking lot side was an emergency exit.

The short but heavy men moved her to the vehicle, but she made it as difficult as possible, using everything she had learned in her self-defense class.  The hand that wasn’t holding the phone was out and she tried to dig her nails in the man’s arm.  He didn’t seem to notice.  She kicked at them and hit several times, but they made no sign on pain.

Giles opened the back passenger door.  Adela put one foot on each side of the door frame and pushed away.  With normal men this sudden and violent move would have at least knocked them back; loosening their grip, but these men had a much lower center of gravity and didn’t even rock back.  She did manage to keep from going in, but it was a stalemate.

Giles leaned forward and shook his head.  “This is indeed the hard way.  Now, we have two choices, to push you hard enough to break your legs and put you in the vehicle, or to strike,” he swung his cane with lightning speed stopping only a hair’s breadth from her kneecap, “Thusly.  You have two choices as well.  You can relax your legs and get in the vehicle, or you can pass the decision on,” he lifted his cane, she flinched, “to us.”

Adela struggled with her arms, trying to free them to claw at Giles or her detainers.  The struggle was short lived, and before Giles could nod again to his companions, she relaxed.  Giles smiled, “Very sensible of you.”

“I’ll find some other way to get away.”  She stood on her own feet again.

“No, you won’t.”

She breathed deeply and nodded.  “Alright, I’ll get in.” The short men with the iron grip released her.  She smoothed her dress and looked up at Giles, “Where are we going?”

Giles took a breath to answer, but before he could get a single word out, she twisted, jumped and darted from between the two men who had been holding her.  She ran for the exit of the parking lot, but she had forgotten that four short men had gotten out of the black SUV.  The other two were blocking the narrow parking lot exit.  She ran at them anyway, darting like a broken field running back.  The men didn’t follow her moves with anything but their eyes.  When she dove to try to get past them by going over, they managed to maneuver so the they caught her in mid-air.

She struggled and twisted.  She shouted again, trying to see out of the parking lot to see if anyone was walking or driving past.  She was getting hot and tired from the struggling, her skin was raw from being held and she was bruised.  These men were tougher than any she had ever had in her kick-boxing class.

She relaxed a moment to try to catch her breath.  Giles was next to her.

“You are fighting admirably, and I can empathize with your determination since we are in fact strangers who are abducting you.  I really wish you would do this the easy way; it really wouldn’t be that bad.  We really aren’t bad, people.”

“I’m not going with you.  You can break my legs if you want,” she snarled.

Giles put his hand to his chest and looked sincerely pained to hear her.  “I really didn’t mean to cause you any harm.  I did forget though, that we had a third option besides violence to your lovely legs.” 

She wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but her mind raced to see what other option she might have.  She still, after all the struggles had her hand on her phone in her purse, she tapped a few more commands.  Jude had done something to her phone the last time they were together, some tracker thing or a link to her GPS.

Giles withdrew his handkerchief from within his coat.

Adela had thought the phone thing had been creepy at the time, but she tried desperately to remember how to start it, if she actually needed to do anything.  Could he follow her?

Giles moved closer and held his handkerchief up to Adela’s face.  Too late she realized that it was drugged with Chloroform to make her sleep.  She was breathing heavily to begin with so when he put the handkerchief to her face she took a lung-full and began feeling the effect immediately.

“No,” she whispered, but it was no use.