Chapter One - Steward of Destiny

It was not an interrogation. This was pure, brutal, torture.

Every muscle fiber, bone, and nerve ending screamed as he swung about - like a punching bag - from the repeated blows to his unprotected naked body. His arms were stretched painfully over his head and his hands were bound tightly together, attached to a cable bolted to the ceiling high above. His eyes were swollen shut and his jaw ached horribly from several fractures. He had long since lost the ability to think clearly as he succumbed to the harsh beating. It had lasted for hours, days… weeks? He had lost all track of time as well.

If they sought information, they would have spared his face and jaw, preserving his ability to talk. But this was a message, as he was told repeatedly. The nature of the message was lost on him, as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The pain from the endless blows began to dull his traumatized brain. He wasn’t even aware when they had stopped. A small part of his mind sensed that he had ceased swinging and just hung helplessly before his tormentor.

Despite the constant ringing in his ears, he heard the scratch of a lighter and became distantly aware of cigarette smoke. Smoke was blowing into his face, causing him to cough harshly. A sharp pain in his chest from multiple fractured ribs, caused him to groan miserably. Aside from the painful spasms, he felt a heavy wetness in his lungs that made it hard for him to draw a breath. Then his mind was shocked by an excruciating yet familiar pain from another cigarette burn - this time on the base of his scrotum. His swollen jaw and raw throat muffled his agonizing shriek. His body jerked involuntarily and he spun helplessly, oblivious to the cruel laughter from his unknown assailant.

He nearly faded into merciful unconsciousness but was revived by a sharp blow to his testicles causing another scream to rip from his throat. A gloved hand gripped his balls and squeezed them mercilessly as he flailed against his restraints. The pressure eased and he relaxed for an instant gasping painfully for breath. A new sensation manifested itself and he realized with dismay that someone was sucking his dick. He felt revulsion and shame as he was stroked and fellated. The wet mouth slurped and swallowed around his shaft causing him to grow hard involuntarily.

He tried to jerk his hips away but pain erupted in his crotch as his testicles were squeezed once more - even harder. He wailed pitifully, tasting blood in his mouth as he coughed and choked on his secretions. Then his mind exploded in a super-nova of excruciating agony when his tormentor bit him savagely. He convulsed and screamed as his cock was alternately sucked and chewed on. Any sense of shame or disgust paled under the sheer agony. He wept pitifully as he hung powerless against the endless torment and violation.

An instant of terror and panic seized him as he felt himself suddenly fall. He landed on the cold hard floor in a battered heap, the air knocked from his lungs. His head smacked cruelly against the hard surface causing painful flashes of pinpoint light behind his sightless eyes. Strong hands lifted him and dumped him across a low bench where he lay helplessly prostrate.

“Don’t worry mon ami,” a sinister voice hissed into his ear. “I am far from done with you.”

Peter panted miserably, his fractured mind wavering on the edge of insanity and unconsciousness. He felt his ass cheeks being squeezed and smacked and felt a foreboding sense of dread as a heavy weight suddenly pushed down on his back.

‘NO!’ he screamed silently when a tearing, burning pain erupted from his anus as he was forcefully penetrated. He heard a lustful grunt from above him as his rapist assaulted him with hateful fury. The tearing pain raged deep inside him like an inferno as he was ruthlessly sodomized. He grunted harshly as he was crushed into the heavy bench repeatedly with each heavy impact of his attacker’s body slamming against him.

Shock, disbelief, and raw despair flashed through his mind as he cried out with each thrust. ‘This isn’t happening!’ he thought as he suffered through the assault for one agonizing minute after another. ‘God, please just kill me, now and end this nightmare!’

He heard his assailant cry out and then he felt the sickening sensation of warm fluid entering his anal cavity. The man collapsed atop him, panting heavily from his exertion for several minutes before lifting himself off his victim and pulling his flaccid cock from his anus.

Aware only of the constant and varied aches and pains that tormented his mind and body, Peter was blind to everything but his misery - his surroundings, environment, and time - ceased to exist. As he lay helpless and prostrate over the cold hard surface his mind grew heavy and slipped into blissful oblivion.

---

Something disturbed the deeper recesses of his mind, trying to draw him away from the chaotic, dystopian abyss that sheltered him from the even more terrifying memories that raped his sanity. He resisted the compulsion to open his mind and seek out the source of irritation. Deep down he knew that returning from the nightmarish void was to face unimaginable horrors once again. Better to crawl deeper into the void and wait for death to end all suffering.

“Is he alive?” The words, though far away and tinny, penetrated the hissing, rushing, and ringing in his ears, jarring his dreamscape.

“Barely.” He had no clue what the words meant, only that they were unwelcome and distracting.

“Take his legs…”

His mind did not register being lifted or carried from his nightmare. Oblivion swept over his dull senses once more and he welcomed it.

---

“…once he recovers from surgery.”

“Even more concerning…”

“Traumatic brain injury.”

“Only time will tell now…”

‘Two-Spirit.’

‘Broken-Eagle soars over the land of shadows. Ever watchful. Ever vigilant. He does not fly on the shoulders of the wind or the breath of the mountains - but on the currents of the spirit world between here and where our ancestors roam. His keen eyes do not seek the unwary jack rabbit or rock squirrel, hidden in the shadows of the sagebrush. He glimpses the bright tiny sparks of destiny, lost in the arroyos and canyons and washes. Broken-Eagle is a steward of that destiny.’

“Peter, can you hear me? Please, baby! Squeeze my hand. I love you so much! Please come back to me, I’m begging you!” A distant sobbing voice. A memory. Pleasant and beautiful.

“Oh my God!”

“What? What happened?”

“He just squeezed my hand!” Closer still. He could almost… “Peter! Squeeze my hand again! Baby, it’s me, Kathy!”

There!

He heard a loud cry of relief and suddenly a weight pressed against his chest and torso, warm and soft. It shook violently and he heard loud sobbing next to his ear. “OH GOD! THANK YOU!” she cried harshly.

“Get the doctor in here!” He knew that voice too, he thought.

“Oh, baby! I thought I lost you!” she wept, kissing his ear and cheek. “You’re okay now! Everything is gonna be okay! Oh, thank God!”

---

He winced from the bright light that the doctor shined into each of his eyes.

“Sorry about that,” the man straightened and set the ophthalmoscope back in its place on the wall nearby. “I’m pretty certain that there is no lasting damage to either eye,” he added reassuringly. “You suffered a significant subconjunctival hemorrhage to your right eye which very likely may stain the sclera red for some time, maybe even permanently. But despite its appearance, it won't affect your vision.”

“Thanks, doc,” he replied with a harsh, muffled whisper. His vocal cords and throat still felt raw and sore. Being intubated with an artificial airway several times - for multiple surgeries over the first couple of days - didn’t help. On top of that, his jaw was wired shut, preventing him from moving his fractured mandible.

“We will continue the ointment and eyedrops for another five days and see how things look from there,” the man added before taking his leave. He was one of a dozen specialists who monitored his progress during his convalescence. There were orthopedic surgeons, chest surgeons, ENTS, pulmonologists, cardiologists, internal medicine, and Pharmacists. Every time he opened his eyes it seemed there was a new face scrutinizing some part of his body. That didn’t include all the nurses, aides, and therapists who hovered around waiting for their turn to do this or that or help him wash and ambulate.

Peter was beginning to piece together recent memories as his body slowly healed. He was told he had been treated for the worst of his injuries at Banner Medical Center in Mesa before being transferred to this private facility in Scottsdale. He looked around the lavishly appointed room with its subdued lighting, for his sensitive eyes.

Kathy was sleeping curled up on a recliner nearby. Hardly a moment passed that she wasn’t by his side. The whole ordeal had left her particularly traumatized and fearful of being apart from him for any length of time. She snuck into his bed every night and held him tightly despite the confined space. At first, it was uncomfortable as he had a great deal of lines, wires, and tubes attached to various parts of his body. But he voiced no objection knowing that she did it for her own needs as well as to comfort him. They promised him a larger bed in an even more lavish suite in another day or two, once the last chest tube was removed.

Sue and Bradly came and went, but one expected visitor never made an appearance and when he asked about her, he immediately forgave her for her reticence.

“Mags was at the Airport when they airlifted you in,” Kathy told him the previous day. “When she saw the extent of your injuries - oh baby it was the most horrific thing - she had a breakdown.”

“We weren’t there, but Ian told us that she went completely insane and that it took him and two others to hold her down until she could be sedated,” Sue added.

“Who’s Ian?”

Kathy glanced at Sue and then back at Peter. “He was there when you were brought in. A kindly older fellow with a British accent like Monty and Alistair.” She gave him a nervous nod. “I think he’s part of the… you-know-what.”

“I wouldn’t describe him as ‘kindly’ or ‘older’,” Sue remarked, ignoring their silent byplay. “Ominous, scary, soft-spoken, even sinister maybe,” she shuddered. “The dude is built like a brick shit-house and has scars… everywhere.” She looked intently at him. “As for kindly? I’d say he has a certain charm to him… like Ted Bundy.”

“I’m just glad he is on our side,” Kathy added. “He came by a couple of times to check on you. We had to give him that black ledger and all your notes. He immediately locked them up in a special box and took it away.”

A memory jolted him. “My ring?”

“He has that too,” his fiancée nodded, holding his hand. “Your feet and wallet are here.”

“So are all the parts to your new computer you had shipped to the shop,” Sue added, nodding toward a cabinet door. Then she sighed forlornly. “Oh Peter, it’s a miracle that you survived at all. This has been so hard on everyone…” Her eyes teared up. “Brad may share the finer characteristics of a prickly pear, but he has been completely inconsolable for letting them separate the two of you. He feels responsible for all of this.”

“Len?” he muttered.

Kathy sighed, “She may just be the one person out of all of us who has managed to keep it together.”

Sue nodded, “That girl has deep layers. Outwardly she seems so focused and driven. She has probably kept a lot of us grounded enough to keep us from losing our shit. But deep down this has got to be tearing her apart.” She sniffed sadly. “She may not show it outwardly but you mean everything to her.”

“Old Begay?” He kept his words short due to the difficulty articulating his voice.

Both women smiled. “Lenna again,” Sue interjected, “She took on the task of repairing his hogan, herself. You’d think she drove Brad and the crew with a horsewhip, the way she demanded everything just so. She insisted on replacing the roof entirely with metal and then completely renovated the interior too -new insulation, windows, a real door, and flooring. She even bought him a new wood stove and had an outhouse dug and built.” The Navajo woman looked as if she would burst with pride. “They are finishing it all up this week. Bradly said they put in a winterized water tank and plumbed it into the hogan so he has a sink and running water now.”

Peter was happy to hear that news. He tried to focus on their continued conversation but drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and not alone for the first time since he woke up.

---

When he awoke sometime later it was to find a stranger standing beside his bed. As soon as he noted the severely swept-back gray hair, weathered face that bore several old scars across his left cheek, and his overbearing presence - Peter knew he was facing the man Sue had described.

“Hell of a way to start the New Year, mate,” the man spoke with a soft but eloquent British accent. He was wearing starched gray slacks and a thick army-green shooting sweater with leather pads sewn into the shoulders and elbows.

Peter nodded in acknowledgment.

“Name’s Hughes,” he stated gruffly, without offering a hand for him to shake. “Ian Weatherly Hughes. You can just call me Ian.” He stepped around the bed and took a seat on Peter’s right side so that he could see him in better lighting.

‘Ted Bundy fits,’ he thought as he watched the man almost glide across the room.

“I’d offer my congratulations for your ascension into the ranks of the Consortium,” the man said quietly. Then he made a feeble gesture that encompassed the bed and monitors that surrounded the wounded man. “Alas, you have probably picked up that it comes at a steep cost.”

“What can you tell me?” Peter muttered back through his clenched teeth.

“Currently, all is well… for the most part,” he replied candidly. “Your partner was able to sound the All Call immediately after you had been taken by our adversaries. That Indian fellow called your charming girl as soon as they took you away from that drab little pub up north.” He helped himself to a cup of water without offering one to Peter. “She in turn brought lovely Magdelaine into the loop and she took immediate action.”

Peter glanced at the LED clock over his door, 19:34 SUN, JAN 12, 1992. Ten days. “Who were they?” He didn’t have to specify.

“Being a global outfit, with our mitts in damn near everything - we tend to create tensions and hard feelings among some out-of-sorts, rabble, here and there,” the man offered. “Some of our adversaries are particularly put out with us over some insult or another. Most are hardly worth a casual glance now and then, but some have pockets as deep as ours and the resources to… annoy us now and then.”

Peter found his understated euphemisms irritating. “They spoke French,” he muttered.

Ian pursed his lips and nodded soberly. “As suspected. The Parisians are particularly out-of-sorts after we… quelled a troublesome lot.”

‘You nerve-gassed a café, killing everyone in it, you fucking monster!’ Peter thought.

The dapper gentleman sat back ramrod straight and shook a newspaper loose. “Water under the bridge now, I’m afraid,” he grumbled with a hint of annoyance.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that your ‘mixed’ colleague went rather ‘scorched earth’ when your team located you,” he replied as he casually glanced over the headlines of the publication. It was an early edition of USA Today. “You were being held in an unlikely urban townhouse in that quaint little town you call Tucson, just south of here. My guess is they had hoped to slip over the border when they were done with you.”

“What happened?”

“I meant ‘scorched’ literally I’m afraid,” he replied without looking up. “Magdelaine made the rash choice to take no prisoners and left the place a smoldering pile of ashes… Hell hath no Fury, and all that.”

“Good!” he coughed painfully.

“Not hardly, mate… when you consider our strength lies in always remaining a step ahead of the enemy.” He abruptly folded the paper and gazed at him intently. “In this instance, they had the take on you, and I very much would like to know how that happened. Instead of waiting for my colleagues and me, she acted out of passion and made a right mess of it all.”

“Messy like gassing a bunch of innocent bystanders in a corner café?” he retorted.

By the man's stiff posture, Peter could tell he had struck a nerve. It was also apparent when Ian rose from his seat, that their conversation was at an end.

“I want to see her,” he stated firmly.

The older man turned and regarded him with an unreadable expression. His eyes were smoldering, however. “I’m afraid your Magdelaine Desormeaux is… down for the count, as you Yanks like to say,” he replied gruffly, setting the paper on Peter’s lap over the covers. “I don’t think she has the faculties to carry on a coherent conversation presently and I doubt she ever will again.”

“Send her to me,” he demanded.

“Mr. Shipley, she won't come,” he insisted. “We are trying to find you an alternate partner for the…”

“No!” he muttered sourly, grimacing over his wired jaw.

“Peter, mate… she can no longer function as your…”

“She can and she will,” Peter shot back. “I need to speak with her ASAP.”

The older man sighed and shook his head in resignation. “I’ll pass on your request.”

“When you do, mention something else to her. She will understand.”

“What might that be?”

“Just tell her, ‘Geronimo’.”

---

It was several hours later when Kathy looked up to see his door open and admit Ian with a disheveled and gaunt Maggy in tow. Peter was seated in a wheelchair with his back to the door, not that he would have noticed it swinging silently open with the persistent ringing in his ears. He was absorbed with installing various components onto the motherboard of his new PC which lay open on the table before him. She touched his elbow and he looked up before turning the chair about to regard his friend and colleague. She looked like shit and Ian had to hold her by her elbow as she shuffled into the room.

Peter’s heart lurched as he studied her slumped-over figure. Her short, often spikey hair was matted to her head and her eyes appeared dark and sunken, lacking all luster. The flesh of her face looked pale and loose without its healthy olive tone.

Kathy gasped beside him and rose to follow as he returned to his bed. She helped him out of the chair and moved it aside while the two newcomers looked on silently. Without a word Ian turned and departed, leaving his despondent partner standing alone with her face turned down toward her slippers. Peter reclined on the bed with his covers off and nodded in silent communication to Kathy who gave him a thin smile and warm kiss before turning to leave. She halted beside the disconsolate woman and pulled her into a warm hug. She whispered soft words into the mulatto girl's ear but got no response. She kissed her softly on the cheek before slipping out the door.

Peter swallowed painfully as he gazed sadly at the morose figure. “Come here,” he beckoned with a catch in his voice.

She made no move to comply, remaining standing in the middle of the room, refusing to acknowledge or even look at him. Her entire presence screamed silently of complete and utter defeat.

“Maggy!” he continued, more sharply than intended. He saw her stiffen and heard a quiet sniff. “Come over here… please.”

Despite her emotional turmoil, she shuffled her feet obediently until she stood next to the bed at his torso.

He held his arms open and beckoned for her again. She sniffed and shook her head sharply, all the time staring down at her feet.

“Please, sweetheart,” he murmured through his clenched jaw. “Don’t make me reach up for you.” He took her left hand, noted how cold her fingers were, and pulled her closer until she reluctantly leaned closer. She didn’t resist as he grabbed her arms and gently pulled her down until her torso rested atop his. She wore a thin cotton spaghetti strap top and a pair of loose-fitting hospital scrub pants that were tied around her waist. He further shifted her over until her body rested stiffly atop his, and he wrapped his arms protectively around her shoulders, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. He felt her trembling slightly in his arms.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he murmured into her ear then remained quiet as her tremors slowly became more pronounced. He turned his head and kissed her ear gently, evoking a sharp intake of breath. She kept her hands drawn close to her neck as she shivered in his arms.

“You’re going to be okay, my love,” he whispered. “I got you. And I will never… ever forsake you!”

Her body began shaking more violently and he felt her hands begin wringing against the material of his shirt. She seemed to hiccup and then drew a deep breath. He felt the vibration in her chest as she began emitting a high-pitched keening sound that broke his heart. He rubbed her back gently and felt her take another deep shuddering breath. Then she released a long pitiful wail steeped in misery and heart-wrenching despair. He tightened his arms around her as she shuddered and gasped before sucking more air into her lungs.

Her horrible, tortured cries sounded strangled and choked as her emotions suddenly burst like a volcano.

The door to his room opened to reveal a nurse with a concerned look on her face. Peter glanced in her direction and waved her off dismissively as he held the inconsolable woman in his arms. His throat felt tight and his breathing restricted as he found himself crying silent tears as well. A wellspring of tightly contained pain and suffering erupted within her and she wept wretchedly for a long time. She subconsciously snaked her thin arms around his neck and clung to him helplessly as her pressure cooker of misery and sorrow, gave vent. Her body shook with such intensity that he drew his comforter up to cover them both. Her tears soaked his shirt and the bedsheets beneath his shoulder and neck. Eventually, her loud wailing and harsh sobs diminished until she lay weakly atop him gasping and weeping tearfully. After an hour she had calmed to the point that her body relaxed and she drifted off to a troubled sleep.

He held her to him long into the night as she slept fitfully. Eventually, her body slid over to his left side where she curled into his protective arms with her face pressed into his ribs. He drifted off to sleep as well, only to awake when he felt her stir beside him and sit up, suddenly. He blinked in the darkness and sat up to join her, touching the back of her neck softly.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she shuddered beneath his touch. “I… have to go.” She climbed out of the bed and stared across the dim room at nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her.

“No way,” he replied softly. “I just got you back. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.” He slipped off the bed to his stubs and approached her, looking up at her face, trying to read her expression that was masked by shadows. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s not right. Ian said…”

“Fuck Ian!” he growled taking her hand possessively. “He is the last person I’m going to model our sector after.”

“Peter, he’s not wrong,” she sniffed. “I let my… I did everything wrong. If I had waited…”

“I would be dead,” he finished, feeling her stiffen next to him. “Come back to bed.”

“My clothes are a mess,” she whispered. “I soaked your shirt too.”

He let go of her long enough to strip the damp shirt over his head and toss it aside. “Take them off then.”

“Wha… what?” she stammered.

He grabbed the bottom of her tank top and lifted it across her thin belly. She obediently raised her arms and finished removing it. He gazed in amazement at the firm curve of her large breasts and the silhouette of her hard nipples. “No more excuses, back to bed,” he ordered, pausing to pull off his hemmed scrub pants before crawling back onto the bed.

She stepped forward to follow him and swallowed nervously as she gazed at his naked body lying supine before her. He had an erection and she couldn’t take her eyes off it, recognizing the angry marks left by his tormentor.

“Get those off and come here,” he repeated gently.

Without a word, she slipped out of her leggings and stood completely nude before him, before slowly climbing back onto the bed. His skin was warm and she felt herself tremble as he embraced her once more and pulled the blankets back over them. She resumed her curled position with her cheek resting on his shoulder. Her hairless mound rubbed against his thigh and he felt a wave of erotic desire wash over him.

Rather than act on it he simply kissed her forehead and told her to sleep.

“But… what about Kathy?” she whispered anxiously.

He pulled her closer to him and savored the feel of her breast against his torso. “We have talked,” he replied. “I have never taken another woman to bed without her present. But I need you right here with me now and she supports it too.”

She felt his hard cock rub against her thigh and took a quivering breath. “I’m not…”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Get some sleep. You haven’t rested in days.” He kissed her closed eye. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m not doing anything… until you are ready.”

---

When he woke up, it was still dark and he sighed contentedly at the warm body pressed against his back. He rolled off his side and felt her adjust to the new position, draping a leg over his thigh. Her hair smelled sweaty and dank but her skin still emitted a faint essence of almonds and spice. He reached across his body to caress her breast and then bent forward to suck on her nipple. He felt her shudder and moan, and then her small hand caressed his chest and slid deliberately down his torso until she rubbed the length of his rigid morning wood. He groaned appreciatively when she gripped him firmly and began stroking him. She shifted her body lower and he gasped when her other hand suddenly cupped his balls and began massaging them. Despite Kathy’s encouragement, he felt a small pang of guilt that promptly vanished when he felt her wet lips engulf his head and begin sucking vigorously, slurping as she took him deeper into her mouth.

“Oh Fuck!” he moaned, lifting his face in the darkness. His pelvis shuddered as she continued shifting her body until she was straddling his knees. He reached down with his hands to cup her ample breasts, squeezing them softly and rolling her hard nipples between his fingers. She responded by sighing with pleasure through her nose as she began bobbing her head up and down the length of his rigid shaft. “Shit!” he gasped as waves of erotic pleasure coursed through his mind and body, overwhelming the slight discomfort from his traumatic abuse. He subconsciously grabbed her head with both hands and began thrusting his pelvis, driving himself deeper into her throat. She stoically allowed herself to be choked and gagged as she determinedly gave everything she had, to bring him as much pleasure as possible.

He felt his balls contract from his scrotal sack and he emitted a lustful hiss as he gripped her hair tightly pulling her mouth off of him. “Oh God, I’m so close!” he groaned, pulling her up his body until his mouth found hers. She sucked his tongue past her lips with a sigh and slid her warm, swollen vagina against the length of his cock. He released her hair and reached down to grab her hips, desperate to impale her. She bucked her pelvis spastically as she tried to mount him and then cried out in shock and pain when he slipped inside her tight channel, burying himself to the hilt.

Her pitiful wail only inflamed his desire and he forced himself even further inside her. She collapsed helpless atop him and he gripped her tightly before rolling over until she was trapped beneath him. She couldn’t take a breath until he raised himself onto his extended arms and began thrusting in and out of her savagely. She closed her eyes and tucked her chin panting and grunting as he crushed her pelvis beneath him. Her thoughts were a maelstrom of pleasure and agony and she continued whimpering emotionally as he fucked her hard.

“Oh God! Please, Cher!” She panted as he pounded her into the mattress beneath her. “I… can’t… please!”

Suddenly he bellowed loudly and crushed her with a final devastating thrust. He forced himself as far inside her as he could and began shooting convulsive jets of cum deep into her cervix. She uttered a long frantic cry as she felt his cock pulse inside her. His thighs were shaking and she realized she had hooked her legs tightly around them, clinging to him despite the sheer agony of their joining.

“Oh fuck!” he gasped repeatedly. It took a full minute for his pulsing ejaculations to subside. “Oh my God!” he breathed, opening his eyes to gaze down at her stricken face. “Are you okay?”

“Please,” she whimpered breathlessly. “I can’t… breathe!”

He pulled out and rolled to his right, releasing her from his oppressive weight. She took a deep shuddering breath and closed her legs together. She moaned long and slowly as she recovered.

“Oh fuck!” she shuddered in a voice heavy with emotion. Tears streamed from her eyes and flooded her cheeks. “Oh God!”

“Maggy, sweetheart,” he whispered harshly. “Are you okay?” He suddenly felt a terrible sense of shame for what he had done, and he reached out to touch her cheek fearfully. “Oh God, I am so sorry!” he gulped with a broken voice.

“No!” she replied quickly. “I’m okay. I just never for a million years thought that it could be so… would be…” She sobbed and grabbed his hand desperately. “I’m sorry it was so hard on you!” she bit her lip and blinked away further tears.

“You’ve never…?” he stammered feeling a terrible weight of ice-cold guilt in his gut. “Oh God! Maggy how can you ever forgive me?” he wept tragically. “Oh fuck! I just raped you!”

“No!” she shot back, sitting up to clasp his sad face with both of her hands. “No, darling. You most certainly did not!”

“But… I… You were a virgin. And I…”

She leaned closer and pressed her sweaty chest against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Hold me, Peter,” she whispered as she kissed his ear. “Put your arms around me and hold me tight, please.”

He did as she asked and found himself holding her tightly as if she might disappear suddenly. “I'm so sorry,” he mumbled against her neck. “I wish I…”

“Stop,” she muttered back, licking the salt on his skin. “Just stop it. And listen to me for a second.” She caressed his stubbly scalp. “Yes, I was a virgin. But I never intended to die as one. Ever since I was old enough to enjoy the feel of my finger stimulating my clitoris, I wondered how and when I’d give up my maidenhead.” She pressed her cheek against his breast and listened to the strong pounding of his heart. “It was never a question of who I would do it with. I waited for the time when Jeremiah would take me to bed and own me. I was ever his to use whenever or however he chose. It was not something he ever asked of me, but in every other way, I served him faithfully and with complete devotion. The thought of giving myself to another was simply out of the realm of possibility. I didn’t even contemplate any other alternative.” She turned her head once more and kissed his pectoral lovingly. “And then you came along. It never dawned on me that he was grooming me to be your… odalisque.”

“I’m not familiar with the term,” he murmured as he gently rubbed his hands up and down her back.

“I don’t think there is a term that accurately portrays my role,” she replied. “Suffice it to say that how I once served him, I do for you now. There are no boundaries. My commitment is compulsory. My devotion - complete. My service, advice, my body, even my very life is yours to do with as you will.”

He pushed her back and stared into her soft golden eyes. “I would never ask that of…”

She pressed her finger against his lips, silencing him. “I know you wouldn’t, Cher. Which makes it all the more compelling to me.” Then her voice caught as she recalled the horror. “Oh God! I thought I’d lost you!” she sobbed.

He slowly lay on his side, pulling her down so she faced him. “I don’t know what to say, Maggy. Until this moment you were like an exotic and beautiful woman whom I hoped would one day regard me as a friend and colleague.” He traced the curve of her jaw with his hand, making her shiver. “Now…”

“Now what, Cher?”

“I know that you call me ‘Cher’ as a term of endearment not meant as anything more. But,” he took a breath and sighed before studying her eyes once again. “I didn’t think I could love two women so deeply, and I’m not quite sure how to process that.”

“You cannot put me beside Kathy in such a comparison,” she gasped. “No other woman could stand in the shadow of her commitment to you.”

“I’m not so wise in affairs of the heart,” he replied calmly. “I would never take her love for granted and every day I struggle to convince myself I am even worthy of it. I do love others; Lenna, her babies, Charity, and Nana Shima - they are, every one of them, precious to me and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect them.” He smiled distantly. “Kathy and I have included other women in our lovemaking. But you are the first that I have made love to without…”

“I just don’t want this to come between you and her in…”

“Now you stop,” he replied. “I doubt you could ever truly understand how deeply we feel for each other, but in that respect, you need not worry. Just try to accept that my commitment to you is equal to yours. And that I love you.”

She rolled onto her back, and he gazed at her breasts appreciatively. “I have no idea what that even means,” she confessed. “I could recite every literary classic to you in four languages and debate them like an Arts major. But the concept of love is foreign to me.”

He leaned forward and caressed her left breast with his lips. “There is nothing complicated about love,” he assured her. “The way Kathy explains it - love is when you give somebody else the power to destroy you and trust them to never use it.”

Maggy stared back at him intently as she considered his words. Then she lifted herself abruptly and pressed her lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. “If that’s all there is to it,” she breathed. “Then I love you with all my heart.”

---

They lay still for several minutes, in each other's arms. Peter glanced over hoping to find her asleep but her eyes glistened in the dim light. “What’s the matter?”

---

She sniffed. “I just can’t stop thinking about how…” she rolled onto her arm, propping herself up to face him, “I can’t even describe how awful it was when we lost track of you,” she said softly, caressing his chest. “I know what it's like to literally lose your mind, now.”

---

“How did you find where they kept me?” he murmured, trying not to remember the depravity and wickedness that they inflicted upon him.

---

She took a breath and sighed. “Turns out that roaring over people's homes in a Blackhawk makes a memorable impression.” She stared off into the darkness as she spoke, “Tracking its flight from A to B was simple enough. They landed in a field less than a mile from where they took you. The helicopter was stolen and when it was clear they were headed to Mexico, an Air Alert went out and they had to abandon it or risk interception - not very smart on their part.”

---

“Ian said I was being held in some townhouse near Tucson?”

---

He could see the distaste in her expression at the mention of the Englishman’s name. “A new housing complex that was being built. They broke into an unfinished unit and hid out while they…” she swallowed. “I had six teams out scouring the area, along with law enforcement and DEA who were partial to their stolen chopper.” She suddenly sat up and crossed her legs beneath her as she gently touched the scars from his chest tubes. “I was listening in on every radio transmission and cell phone intercept I could find. Eventually, it was the little things that clued me in and narrowed the search.”

---

He waited patiently for her to put her jumbled thoughts into words.

---

“There were complaints about excessive barking from neighborhood dogs. One man who lived behind and adjacent to the home they hid in, complained about the strong smell of ‘burning cloves’.”

---

He stiffened as he recalled the cloying stench of the cigarettes that his assailant burned him with.

---

“When I overheard a dispatch about some ‘foreign ass-hole neighbor’, threatening to shoot a woman’s dog, I directed Parson and his team to check it out. The Police were too caught up in the man-hunt to concern themselves with a domestic dispute over a dog,” she muttered. Then she began shaking and Peter pulled her down next to him once again. She snuggled against his body tightly. “When Parson contacted me next, he was racing toward Banner’s Level I Trauma Center with you in the back seat.”

---

When Kathy returned right at the beginning of the morning shift, she found Peter working diligently on his computer while Maggy lay exhausted in a deep sleep beneath his covers.

Peter had showered by himself and put on a pair of board shorts and a polo shirt, before carefully and awkwardly putting on his prosthetic feet for the first time in nearly two weeks. They were a new set sent to the clinic by Dr. Richardson and the Puget Sound Ambulatory Solutions team. He was impressed that they were light as air and fabricated from a Kevlar and graphite composite. The cups were new, however, and he had to break them in over time.

“How is she?” Kathy whispered as she set a large TJ Max bag on the nearby table and kissed him deeply.

He nodded, glancing back at the lump on the bed. “She will be okay. Took a while for her to let it all out but after that she slept hard.” He looked at her uncomfortably and she gazed back at him intently, holding two large paper coffee cups. “We made love, this morning,” he confessed with a deep sense of shame.

Kathy gazed adoringly back at him. “I’m glad you did, babe. She means so much to you… and me. I hope she realizes how loved she is now.” She handed him a tall Starbucks coffee with a small straw for him to sip it with.

“I didn’t know she was a virgin…” he continued uncomfortably.

Kathy gasped and placed a hand on his cheek. “Oh no! Poor girl!” she smiled sympathetically. “I can relate, eh? Didn’t think I’d be able to walk after our first time…”

“Mmm,” came a quiet moan from the bed. “Did you go get coffee?”

They turned to see Maggy emerging from the pile of blankets. She scratched her head and yawned as she exposed her upper body to them. When she blinked and recognized Kathy smiling at her knowingly, she gasped and instinctively tried to cover herself.

“I did,” Kathy laughed, grabbing another tall cup and walking it over to her. “And I even tried to remember how you like yours.”

Maggy didn’t speak as she sheepishly accepted the steaming cup. Her cheeks were flaming with shame and embarrassment and she couldn’t look Kathy in the eye until the other girl reached over and lifted her chin with a finger.

“Hey,” she said to the disheveled naked woman. “It’s okay, beautiful girl. This is exactly how I hoped to find you this morning.” She sat on the edge of the bed facing the unsettled woman. “You have to know how much Peter and I love you. I want you to accept that our lives would be desolate without you. Okay?” She reached over and wrapped her arms around the woman, kissing her softly on the lips. “Now let’s get you cleaned up. I went shopping for you.”

---

Once he finished building the PC and had it running, Peter began the tedious process of downloading his essential programs and preparing a Spreadsheet for his work on Jeremiah’s cipher. He emailed Alan asking him to send him the updated version of their coding engine. Kathy and Maggy had spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom and he heard their muffled conversation as he began recreating the 104 Sanskrit characters from memory and building a translation database to help him assign attributes for each.

When the two women reappeared, he was secretly relieved to see that much of Magdelaine’s old spark had returned. She was dressed sharply in a form-fitting knit shirt that accentuated her pleasant bust, and tight leggings that hugged every curve of her legs, hip, and ass. She wore black suede leather ankle-high boots with modest heels and her damp hair was styled in its former spikey fashion. He got up from his desk and embraced her in a warm hug.

“Welcome back,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her gently on the mouth.

She glanced down embarrassed and then joined Kathy on the nearby couch. A housekeeper had come by while they were locked away and made Peter’s hospital bed with fresh linen.

“I need a favor whenever you are up for it,” he said as he returned to the PC and continued typing rapidly. “I need that ledger and my notes.”

“I’ll have it for you this evening,” Maggy replied promptly. “Ian put it in my office safe.”

“How did it go with Qualcomm’s IPO?”

She took up her cold Starbucks and sipped on it. “Last month I bought 400,000 shares on the 20^th. They opened at $18 but by the time all the auctions cleared, we were buying lots for as much as $26,” she replied. “We were restricted to no more than 10% of the offering. Since then, I got in on 100,000 preferred shares and another 50,000 common.”

Peter minimized his window and pulled up a financial page. “They are trading at $47 right now so we have doubled our investment already,” he mused. “That is chump change compared to what they will do over the next decade.” He returned to his previous work screen. “Have you reached out to Brad and Sue regarding the KC venture?”

She nodded. “They are all set up with an open-ended expense account through Wells Fargo. Last time I checked they used a small part of it to rent several storage pods.”

He nodded absently, “They are going to do great things with that plot. Help them with whatever they need - zoning, permits, civil engineering, architects, whatever.”

She nodded looking more and more like her old self and they talked.

“What about the Netter Island venture with Monty and Alistair?”

She set down her cup. “They are taking complete charge of all of it,” she replied. “All I had to do was wire them $90 million and a promissory note.”

“I have a good feeling about that one,” he replied confidently as he continued typing and making notes.

“Since you got your soothsayer glasses on,” Kathy mused as she pored over the USA Today paper that Ian left behind. “Who’s gonna win the Kentucky Derby this May?” She ran her finger down the list of contenders for the Triple Crown.

Peter stopped typing and sat back, staring into space. “I don’t remember,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Or at least ‘old Pete doesn’t.” He continued staring into space. “It was an upset though… Read me the spreads.”

Kathy glanced at Maggy and they gazed at each other with wide eyes. Then she held up the paper and began reading off the names of each horse, jockey, and their odds. Suddenly he held up his hand and stopped her.

“That was it, seventeen to one. Whatever that animal is will win.”

Maggy scooted over next to her and read down the list, “Lil E. Tee,” she read. “You sure about that?”

He shrugged and nodded, returning to his data entry. “Pretty sure.”

“Like, $10,000 sure, or $1 million sure?” she pushed.

“Like, $10 million sure,” he muttered absently.

Kathy whistled. “What does that mean? If you bet ten million and he wins, how much do we make?”

“One hundred and seventy million dollars,” Maggy breathed, “Before taxes.”

“Damn, that would buy a lot of fry bread.”

---

Later that afternoon Peter found himself alone, working diligently through the code as he remembered it. He was certain that he had correctly decoded all of the characters and translated them to their base form in the English vernacular. The next trick was to assign attributes to each of them and develop quick strokes on his 104-key keyboard. As Alan had predicted it came down to pen and paper and a lot of experimentation. Comparing the billions of combination variables available to him with 26 letters in the English alphabet - creating an entirely new computer programming language using 104 characters seems too vast to comprehend. ‘It would take a genius to figure this out,’ he mused humorlessly. A flash of inspiration occurred to him after he spent hours cursing the alpha-numerical symbols on his keys and he asked one of the nurses for a small bottle of white-out. After covering each of the buttons on his keyboard, he spent an hour drawing Sanskrit characters in their place.

His concentration was interrupted by a knock on his door. He turned and saw Sue peering in, “Is this a good time?” she asked politely.

He grinned and got up to meet her. She swung the door fully open to admit herself, her husband, his cousin, and…

“Oof!” he gasped as a brightly dressed figure dashed into the room and launched herself into his arms. “Hi Char!” he exclaimed as she engulfed him with her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his trunk. He held her back. She wore a backpack over her warm winter coat.

She made no sound as she clung to him and he turned to glance back at the three adults who entered with her. Lenna and Sue gazed on tearfully while her father removed his Stetson and carefully dusted it with his hand.

“You alright kiddo?” he whispered to her. She remained silent but he began to feel the moisture from her tears soaking against his neck.

“She hasn’t said much lately,” Lenna commented after clearing her throat. She carried in a large sack of things and set it on the table while Sue and Brad removed their coats and took seats on the couch. Lenna came over and stood on her toes to kiss him softly on his lips. “It’s been hard for everyone.”

Determined not to relinquish her grip, Peter was forced to move over to his bed and take a seat on the edge facing his guests. She shifted herself so she could cling tighter to him and pressed her teary face against his neck.

“It’s going to be alright now,” he assured them. “I can’t go into it much, but bigger things are going on with me.”

“A group of men showed up at the house,” Lenna replied, trying to see his face behind the bulky figure of her niece. “They came three days ago in a black van and said some stuff. They asked to go through your room and took a few things.”

“Did one of them have a nasty scar on his face?”

She nodded. “They were very polite and seemed genuinely concerned for me, Char, and the babies,” she added. “They walked all over the property and even commended me for keeping such a lovely home. Of course, there was a ground crew digging a ditch along the side of the road and they buried a bunch of cables.”

“Len has a landline now,” Sue replied happily.

“We got cable too,” Charity’s muffled voice sounded against his shoulder.

Peter grinned and squeezed her. “Cable, eh? Too bad you don’t have a TV.”

Lenna rolled her eyes sheepishly and her cheeks colored.

“Do too,” the adolescent blurted, keeping her face buried in his shirt.

Tears suddenly came unbidden to his eyes and he pressed his lips against her head. “God, I love you!” he murmured. Her response was unintelligible, but he needed no translation.

“The English man said that they are going to provide you with a permanent ‘security team’ and he wanted to know if they could park an RV next to the Fleetwood out back,” Lenna continued. “He said it was for all our protection and he seemed pleased with the location of my… our home.”

Charity suddenly sat back and stared blankly at his Adam’s apple. Her face was damp and streaked with tears and she sniffed deeply. “Those people who hurt you?” she stammered as she picked at his shirt, “are they dead?”

He nodded grimly at her with a tight smile, “Every fucking one of them, sweetheart.”

She nodded once before pushing back against him. “Good. Wish I could have killed them, myself.”

Sue was about to speak up when the door opened to admit Kathy and Magdelaine. Each of them carried a cardboard tray full of fast food. “Hey everyone!” Kathy greeted brightly. “Hope you're hungry. We stopped at KFC and Burger King.” They set the boxes on the table before the couch and love-seat.

Like a switch, Charity suddenly extricated herself from Peter and hopped to her feet. She wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve and then trotted directly over to the women. Kathy looked startled and then delighted when the girl went straight to Maggy and hugged her.

Everyone looked on in amazement as the mulato woman stiffened with uncertainty before reaching around and hugging the girl back.

“Thank you for killing all the fuckers who hurt him,” they all heard Charity murmur.

Maggy’s reaction was almost comical as her expression morphed from startled disbelief to grim acceptance. She lowered her face into the girl's neck and hugged her fiercely. “You’re welcome, Cheri. I wish I could do it again.” When she lifted her face there was a familiar fire smoldering in her eyes. All traces of her pain and insecurity were completely burned away.

After releasing the woman and giving a similar hug to Kathy, the girl turned and began rummaging through the boxes grabbing a giant milkshake and several other items.

Kathy bit back her laughter as she grabbed a chocolate shake and handed it to Peter. “Here babe, I got you mashed potatoes and gravy too.”

While everyone began eating, Maggy removed a metal safe deposit box from her coat and put it next to Peter’s computer. She turned and handed him the onyx ring and he nodded appreciatively as he put it back on his finger.

“When do the witch doctors say you can leave this stuffy place and return to the Rez?” Bradly asked between bites as he shared a plush recliner with his daughter. The two of them appeared to have an ongoing war over whose French fries were whose.

“A week at the most,” he replied. “I need to handle a few things before I head back.”

“You’re like a celebrity now,” he scoffed gruffly. Charity began nodding and mumbling animatedly as she sucked on her straw. Rather than stop drinking she reached into her thick coat and took out a decorative broach that had two white feathers tied together at their quills with a fine leather thong and tiny beads. She shook it to make sure everyone saw it before swallowing and gasping for breath.

“What is that?” Peter asked.

“It’s your talisman,” she replied snatching a handful of fries from her father's plate. “I designed it. Everyone’s got one, too. They’re all over the school, RC and Whiteriver.” She was entirely too smug about it as she handed it to him.

He studied it for a moment then handed it to Kathy. “I don’t understand.”

The fifteen-year-old just rolled her eyes and kept eating. “That’s cause you’re a pale-face, tenderfoot.”

Maggy burst out laughing and her musical voice caused Sue and Kathy to giggle as well.

“You’re Peter Two-Spirit,” the girl explained with her mouth full. “Each of the white feathers is one of your spirits. Get it now?”

“Why don’t you slow down before you choke to death,” Lenna told her sternly. “Nobody’s going to take your drumstick.”

To her credit, Charity seemed to consider the idea for a moment before deciding not to risk it, stuffing her face again. Her aunt rolled her eyes and strode over to her with her ‘mom’ posture.

“At least take your backpack and coat off,” she demanded.

The girl acquiesced and grudgingly gave up her thick coat and pack, relinquishing one arm at a time so she could guard her fries. She was wearing her favorite tribal dress and smock that she typically wore to school.

Peter’s eyes fell on a small woven pouch that hung around her neck. It was decorated with micro beads and turquoise buttons. “What is that?” he asked curiously.

Charity took another drink of her shake, belched, and then got up to show it to him. “It’s my jish,” she replied using the Navajo term for medicine pouch.

“Oh,” Kathy smiled. “Like Old Begay’s?”

She nodded. “Yup, he helped me make it last week when Max and I visited him.” She took it from around her neck and handed it to Peter.

“What’s it got in it?” he asked, glancing at Sue who was covering her smile with her napkin.

The girl acted casually as she described it, “Some pollen, sage, grass, seeds, and herbs,” she replied. “I asked Nana Shima for some corpse dust but she kinda freaked out and smacked me.” She frowned and rubbed her right ear subconsciously.

Sue gasped and shook her head. “Nuhuh child,” she stated gravely. “Don’t you be messing around with Witch medicine,” she gave the girl a severe look, “That’s for shamans and way singers.”

“That’s what Nana said,” Charity grumbled, “Right after she rang my bell!”

Peter was feeling around the pouch and frowned. “What’s this?” He opened the flap and looked inside before removing an old military medal.

“Old Begay gave it to me,” she said eagerly. “Along with this,” she reached into the pouch and pulled out a worn brass button that was once painted black. It featured an aspect of the globe with a bird perched on it with a naval anchor. “Aren’t they cool?”

Peter handled the medal and button almost reverently as he studied them. “This looks like a campaign ribbon,” he glanced at Kathy. “Your dad had a bunch of these from Vietnam.”

She took it and pursed her lips. “I think this is much older,” she replied.

“Let me see that,” Bradly said reaching across the table. He took it and nodded. “This is from WW2, Pacific Theater, see the submarine sinking?” He took the button and grunted. “Old Begay was a Jarhead. This is the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor device from a dress cover.”

Sue leaned into him gazing at the items, eagerly.

“No fucking way!” Peter gasped suddenly as he stood abruptly. “A Marine? During the War in the Pacific?” His eyes were like saucers.

“What babe?” Kathy asked.

He turned to look at Bradly’s wife, “Sue, do the Navajo keep any historical records on the Code Talkers?”

Sue’s eyes went wide and she gazed back at him in shock. “You think old Begay was a Code Talker?”

“No way!” Charity snorted. “World War Two was like a hundred years ago.”

“There is a historical archive in Shiprock, New Mexico,” the Navajo woman added. “It’s part of the heritage museum. That is an excellent place to start.”

Maggy had quietly stepped over to Peter’s computer and frowned at his keyboard. “What on earth…?” she mumbled as she regarded the Sanskrit characters drawn on it. Fortunately, she was an avid typist who never looked at the keys.

A moment later she had pulled up several articles regarding the famous Navajo Code Talkers from AOL. “He would’ve had to be between 17 and 35 to meet the age and physical requirements for military duty in the USMC,” she remarked. She pulled up several black and white group photos showing young indigenous men posing in their uniforms and holding rifles. “Any idea what his name is? Either tribal or whatever the white man called him?”

Sue shook her head as they all gathered around the woman seated at the computer. “He either doesn’t know or it's just not that important to him,” she said. “I have spoken with him for hours but haven’t learned anything of his past.” She nodded at the medal, “I had no idea he even served.”

Lenna pointed at one of the photos. “It’s telling, that he wandered away from the Navajo reservation so long ago and settled on what is now my land.”

“I will begin making phone calls tomorrow morning,” Peter said, poking the teenager in her ribs causing her to jump off his knee.

She scowled at him and then remembered something and her expression became excited again. She dashed toward her backpack. “You gotta check this out!” she blurted, rummaging around in her bag. She pulled out her CD Player and a blank disc in a clear case. “Kathy and I made you a CD!”

Kathy gasped delightedly. “You put it on CD?” she asked smiling. “How?”

“At school,” Charity replied smugly. “Stinkyfeathers is a real pro at mixing and stuff. I made him help me.”

Peter looked on with a mystified expression. “What did you make?”

“Lay down on your bed,” the girl ordered, following him over to make certain he was reclined just right and comfortable. “Good,” she muttered as she exchanged the CDs in her player and handed him the headphones.

He looked at Kathy expectantly and she smiled encouragingly. “It’s really cool, babe,” she explained, “Last Thursday while they were operating on you all day, I drove back to Rainbow City.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “There was an epic thunderstorm over the valley. Not a drop of rain but the wind, lightning, and thunder were just incredible.” She smiled distantly as she recalled it.

Lenna spoke up, “So she took her recording stuff out onto the deck and made a soundtrack of it.”

“And she played her flute along with it!” Charity blurted, “And I made a hoot owl, and a Loon call and a howling wolf! And she recorded it all!” She demonstrated by cupping her hands with her thumbs side by side. She blew into them and waved her fingers creating a haunting call that made his skin tingle. “And this is the hoot owl,” she added making a completely different but equally eloquent sound.

“Wow! That was good!” he told her.

She gave her maniacal laugh and then placed her loose fists end to end. When she called through them, he felt shivers run up his spine as he pictured a lonely majestic wolf calling out for its mate.

“Pretty good, huh?” she grinned. “Anyway, we put it all together and called it “Wind Spirit crying to Storm Father.” She placed the earphones gently over his head and gazed at him nose to nose. “You ready? Close your eyes.”

The soundtrack was masterfully recorded and the first thing he felt was his body jolt from the crash of thunder, followed by a long rumbling echo which he instantly envisioned, overlooking the wide valley. As it faded, he heard the haunting call of the Loon and immediately a sharp emotional trill from Kathy’s recorder. He felt chills all over his body as he envisioned the scene from where they recorded it. She played a series of softer notes that evoked a lonely and frightened emotion in his brain. There was another startling crash of thunder and a burst of high-pitched trills like a flock of cormorants scattering in fright. He could feel a heavy presence take root in his mind as the byplay between thunder and flute continued, interspersed with occasional calls from the Owl or Loon.

Something gripped his subconscious and tore him away from his physical body, sending him spinning into the storm helplessly as it buffeted and tossed him wildly about in the night sky. At first, his human mind recoiled in terror at the tumultuous maelstrom that sent him spinning and falling. But a deeper more basic intellect seemed to welcome the chaos and quickly took over his thoughts as it raced through the dark swirling currents. His animal mind was not only fearless in the face of the vortex, it screamed a furious cry of challenge, daring the elements to bar his path. Once the maelstrom acknowledged his mastery of the currents and drafts, it gave way and fled into the abyss, taking the night with it. With powerful strokes the mighty wings of the eagle banished the darkness and thunder, causing the sun to rise brightly over the vast valley below with its bleak arid features. Angered by the desolate wasteland below him the Eagle shrieked once more, commanding the spirits to heed his demands. Soaring high over the valley he peered intently at the wide basin below, searching, the shadows of the sagebrush and the darkness hiding within the rents and arroyos, failed to conceal their secrets from his spirit eyes. Like prey hiding in fright from the predator that swooped overhead, the land shifted and trembled beneath him. As he completed his long, graceful arch over the dry bowl, his eye caught a glimpse of light, like a sparkle in the dirt. It was the briefest flash but stark enough to draw him closer. On powerful wings, he dove toward the place, located precisely in the center of the basin. The great spirit eagle leveled its flight and screamed defiantly at the tiny spot, commanding it to reveal its secret as it swooped past and climbed once again for the blue skies above.

A change began taking over the land as he circled back again, high above. Water appeared at the very spot of the flash, flowing upward from the heart of the earth. It rapidly filled the basin as the eagle watched with satisfaction. Angling its graceful body into another wide arch it looked on triumphantly as the hills around the valley became green with life, reaching out like a gentle wave from the edge of the basin, spreading far and wide over the valley and onto hills beyond. The loud lonesome howl of a lone wolf echoed over the valley paying homage to the Steward of Destiny.

“PETER!” Kathy nearly screamed as she shook him violently.

“Aghh!” he cried back, sitting up quickly and blinking away the images that lanced through his brain.

“Jesus! Are you okay?” she gasped her eyes were full of fright as she tossed the headphones aside and held his face in her hands.

He shuddered and took a deep breath as the present settled back around him. “Yeah,” he replied hesitantly.

“God, what happened to you?” Lenna exclaimed from the opposite side of his bed. “You went stiff as a board and your eyes rolled back like you were having a seizure or something.”

The door to his room burst open and two nurses raced in. “Everything okay?” one asked apprehensively. “There was shouting.” Magdelaine and Bradly stood at the foot of his bed gazing at him intently while Charity knelt beside him on the mattress with her knees beneath her and her hands to her mouth.

He nodded to them and raised his hand. “It's okay, I’m good.”

Strangely it was the Navajo woman who remained calm throughout the episode. She met his eyes and tilted her head slightly. “What did you see?” she asked expectantly.

“I…” he stammered for a second as he tried to wrap his head around the strange series of events. “I had a vision.”

Chapter Two - Protective Measures

“His government name was Glenn Chet,” Peter stated excitedly, holding a photocopy of a weathered birth certificate. “He was born on February 18^th, 1909 - somewhere between Window Rock and Gallup. He grew up as ‘Yellowhorse’.”

“We have the same birthday!” Kathy exclaimed happily and clapped her hands excitedly.

“Military records were a bitch, because everything was on microfiche,” he griped, referring to another sheet of paper. “The best I could uncover was that he enlisted in the Marine Corps at the age of thirty-two, on February 15^th, 1942 - three days before his thirty-third birthday.”

“Son of a bitch!” Bradly grunted as he sipped his beer. “I’m thirty-six right now and I thought Army Bootcamp was hell when I was 17!”

Peter nodded as Sue patted her husband's arm sympathetically. “He was the oldest Code Talker of the original 29 who served in the Pacific Theater from Guadalcanal to Okinawa. When the war ended, he was retained for a year to teach at what would eventually become the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California, before he was discharged in August 1946.” He selected a third paper. “He won three purple-hearts, the Navy/Marine Corps service medal, and a Congressional Gold Medal, among others.” He stacked the papers together. “This dude is a hero and a national treasure. And the Navajo Nation has no clue what happened to him.”

“We have to notify them,” Sue declared firmly. “He deserves to be recognized for his service and sacrifice.”

“Maybe, he doesn’t want to be recognized,” Bradly replied. “Think about it, he left the Rez for a reason.”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Kathy suggested.

“I’ll ask him,” Lenna replied from the kitchen. “I’ll be taking him fresh bread and a few other things here in a bit.” None dared to mock her when her definition of ‘a few’ turned out to be several bags of groceries including fresh vegetables, milk, cheese, and butter, plus at least one warm meal. Whenever Kathy or Charity accompanied her, they found themselves recruited into at least an hour of labor, cleaning the hogan, refreshing his water, tending the animals, and scurrying about the area looking for eggs left by the dozen or so chickens he kept around.

Kathy got up from the table and stepped over to kiss her husband lovingly. “I will go with her so she’s not stuck out there all morning.”

Sue rose to accompany them. She looked over at her daughter-in-law but Charity was deeply engrossed in cartoons on the television. She smiled softly and pointed, “Make sure she does… something while we are gone,” she told Bradly.

He looked across the living room at the prostrate girl surrounded by white and grey furry bodies. “Looks like she’s doing something to me,” he replied gruffly.

“You know what I mean, fool,” she growled mockingly.

“What do I care?” he replied finishing his coffee. “Why do you think I pawned her off on my cousin?”

“Because if I had to spend one more night sharing a bed with Nana, I would have run away,” the flippant teenager retorted.

“Yeah, we’ll go with that,” he smirked, getting up to refill his cup.

---

Peter returned home earlier that week on Monday the 20^th of January. He was essentially discharged the day before but they opted to stay the night and get an early start. That plan was squashed by Maggy when she showed up with the entire immediate clan in tow, minus Nana Shima - who was home with a cold. She wasted no time in presenting Kathy and Peter with their completed application for a marriage license, for signatures. She then marched them directly to the courthouse to obtain said license before herding them in front of a Justice of the Peace. The entire family took up the banquet room at a nearby Shoney’s where they celebrated their unexpected nuptials with a breakfast feast, before hitting the road.

“That seemed rather anticlimactic,” Peter grumbled as he fingered the heavy gold band on his wedding finger. Magdelaine had also taken it upon herself to provide each of them with an extravagant wedding band. She even provided Kathy with a bouquet which Charity promptly stole the minute they exchanged vows. “I didn’t even get to pick your ring out.”

“Baby,” Kathy crooned soothingly, still flushed from the excitement and reality of it all. “I absolutely love the ring you didn’t pick out!”

“Still don’t understand all the rush…” he retorted sourly as he picked at his omelet.

“Because,” Maggy snapped angrily, squaring off with him. “The next time you decide to go out and kill yourself,” he was taken aback by the emotion in her voice. “There won’t be nearly as much paperwork involved when I have to settle your estate!”

He felt his cheeks burning from her harsh rebuke.

Bradly leaned over and suggested to him sagely, “This might be a good time to just sit back and enjoy a nice hot cup of shut-the-fuck-up.”

He blinked and nodded.

---

Working on Jeremiah’s cipher was an exercise in redundancy and patience - which was a quality Peter seemed to have lost ever since he experienced the vision. Every time he began working on the ledger, he found his mind wandering off, reliving the epic flight of the spirit eagle. It was the middle of the week and the three women had left to help Sue work out some architectural details for the pending four corners project that Kathy had no idea, would be named after her. Ripley, the African-American security member on duty for the week, went with them leaving him alone with Abi, Jac, and the dogs.

He sighed with resignation as he found himself wool-gathering rather than decoding the ledger. He got up to refresh his coffee and stepped out onto the south-facing deck where the four dogs were solely devoted to soaking up as much sun as possible. He stood at the rail and looked out at the large valley below, sipping his drink and replaying the vision over and over in his mind. On a whim, he stepped back inside and trespassed into Charity’s room, which was surprisingly tidy for a teenager. He located her art supplies, pausing to admire some of her impressive sketches (the most recent being Old Begay sitting by his hogan carving a piece of wood). He shuffled through her chalks, pencils, and watercolors, selecting a handful before taking her easel and largest sketch pad, back out to the deck. Setting it up with the Valley in the foreground he paused to contemplate his project while he finished his coffee.

Having never sketched or drawn anything in his life he approached it stoically. ‘How hard can it be?’ He began with a sharp graphite pencil and a piece of chalk. He roughly lined in the shapes and experimented by shading with the chalk to give the picture depth and dimension. When it assumed a reasonable facsimile of the valley and basin below him, he began superimposing the image in his mind's eye, adding features that weren’t there but existed in great detail in his vision. Time seemed to pause as he worked. He tuned everything else out and only stopped for necessities. At some point (which he didn’t remember) he brought the collapsible playpen out so that the two sisters could nap and enjoy some fresh air. Nor did he remember pausing to switch from chalks and pencils to watercolors. He wasn’t even sure that it was allowed but with no one to tell him otherwise, he continued working through the pleasantly warm Winter morning.

“Chadoin?”

He jerked in surprise at Charity’s voice right next to him. He whirled and found her gazing at the image on the sketch pad. “Uh? When did you guys get back?” he stammered.

“Whoa!” she breathed as she stepped close enough to touch the drawing with her nose. “That is…”

“I know right?” he nodded. His arms were covered with different shades of watercolor and chalk.

“Hi, baby!” Kathy chirped as she stepped out and leaned over the pen to pick up Jacali who was sitting quietly. “What have you been up to?”

He turned to smile at her and wondered at her twisted eyebrows.

“Come check this out!” Charity breathed.

“I’ve been painting,” he replied as she came up to him licking her fingers and wiping his brow.

“I see that,” she mused. “Did you get any of it on the… Whoa!”

“Why is my baby lying out here in the sun without sunscreen?” Lenna demanded as she stormed onto the deck.

“Was this your vision?” Kathy asked quietly as she marveled at the incredible image on the pad before her. She slipped her free arm around his waist.

He nodded and turned to regard the other woman as she reached into the playpen and picked up Abigail. She glared at him as she stepped over to look at the painting.

“Isn’t it cool?” Charity cooed.

“It’s incredible!” Kathy agreed.

Lenna pointed at the shadowy shape soaring above the green and blue living valley. “Is that the spirit-eagle in your vision?”

He nodded. “That is me. Looking down on everything out there,” he waved his arm to indicate the entire plateau and valley. He looked sheepishly at his wife. “I couldn’t concentrate on anything until I got this out of my head.”

“So, what now?” the teenager asked.

He shrugged indifferently. “I dedicate my life to making that become a reality,” he replied dismissively. “According to the vision, I am the Steward of Destiny.”

Lenna scoffed, “You realize that valley is thirty thousand acres, right?”

He sniffed disdainfully, “I never said it was going to be easy.”

“Well Captain Destiny,” she retorted turning back to the house, “Next time at least put a sheet over the playpen so the girls don’t get sunburnt.”

“Indians don’t burn,” he snorted, “They brown.”

She turned back to give him a withering stink eye.

“Look at Old Begay!” he exclaimed. Kathy poked him in the ribs.

“You are such an idiot,” Lenna muttered before going inside.

---

Later that afternoon Kathy entered their bedroom where Peter was finishing up the initial phase of assigning and attributing each of the unique characters. Before he could even begin attempting a program code sequence, he had to completely revise the alpha-numeric code writing engine, which proved to be more problematic than building a new bot from the start.

“… hold on hon, let me get Peter and put you on speaker, okay? Just a sec,” she was saying into her phone. She cupped her hand over the microphone and whispered, “It’s Ronnie… and she is pissed!”

“About what?” he grumbled as he sat back and watched her sit on the bed.

“Alright, Peter’s here too.”

“How come I’m just finding out that you were badly assaulted and that you almost died?” his sister yelled angrily through the phone. “Why couldn’t you call me?”

He snorted silently and shook his head, “Maybe because I was ‘almost dying’?”

“Oh, fuck off, jack-ass! You know what I mean! What’s your excuse girl?”

“Look, Ronnie,” she began in a conciliatory tone. “I don’t have one, okay? By the time we knew that he was going to be okay, it didn’t seem so important anymore. Everything was just… insane. I’m sorry.”

“And the Wedding? How could you NOT tell me you were getting married? Didn’t either of you want me to be there? Am I that despicable to you?” she raged.

“Yeah, to be honest with ya, Sis. Kat and I were the last to find out,” he grimaced.

“Kit-Kat?”

Kathy shrugged, “Sorry Ronnie-kins, buddy boy is right on the money there. That spicy little harpy had us in front of a JP before our morning coffee.”

“And you just let her dictate your lives?” Veronica screeched over the phone. “Marriage is kind of a big deal you know?”

“She’s clearly not met the spicy harpy yet,” Kathy smirked at her husband.

“You can bet I’ll have a few words with her when I do!” his sister snarled.

“Oh, I’d pay to be a fly on that wall,” he sniggered back.

“Laugh it up fucker! See if I invite you to my wedding!” She hung up before they could reply.

“I think she might be taking it a little hard,” Kathy said softly. “I’m serious, babe. Cut her some slack. She lost her mom too.”

Peter felt a wave of guilt and instantly regretted teasing her.

---

There were a great number of older natives gathered in the old Tribal Center when Peter was admitted with Sue, Bradly, and Kathy. Nana Shima was still bedridden from her cold and nobody wanted to tax her strength by asking her to join them.

His reception was cool at best and he felt no small sense of animosity and scorn from several of the Elders, Bradly’s father especially. “How can we honor the presence of the rich white man, on this auspicious occasion?” Doug Littlewolf demanded with a derisive tone.

‘This will be a waste of time,’ Peter concluded as he waited for Kathy and Sue to carry the poster-sized sketch around the chamber so they could see it.

“When I was attacked and put in the hospital, I had a vision,” he stated calmly. Many of the Native council snickered at his words but he noted interest in a small number of the men and women present. “I became an eagle.” He turned and gestured at the ghostly figure soaring over the valley. “I heard spirit voices speaking to me and they called me a ‘Steward of Destiny’.” As expected, the quiet snickers became louder while a select few sat straighter and frowned at their peers.

“A white man with a vision quest,” Doug snorted. “A broken man with no legs, at that,” he chuckled arrogantly. Peter could sense the anger in the man’s son as he stood behind him in solidarity. “Tell us Two-Spirit - how may we help you with your quest?”

Peter clenched his teeth behind closed eyes before relaxing his body and continuing, “In my vision, I made this Valley green and fertile once again. I filled the basin and formed a lake where a river once flowed,” he explained. “You call it the Catskill Wash.” On cue the two women slipped a large color photograph from behind the sketch and held it up, showing the valley and dry basin as it appeared a week before when he had the photograph taken from Lenna's front deck. “Lenna Uglyhorse’s land is now called Eagle Plateau.”

Some of the churlish derision faded as the group studied the two portraits.

“I would see that valley, the basin… the entire plateau returned to its previous majestic state, as it once was, long before your ancestors were torn from their lands and dumped here to strive and die in this dusty arid no-man’s land.”

“A noble dream,” an old woman stated, silencing everyone around her. “A dream worthy of the Indé.” She was unknown to Peter, but he could sense by her icy expression that her comment was not made in support of his claim. “And how would you bring such a miracle about?” she added coldly.

He felt the color in his neck and cheeks and felt suddenly foolish for even being there. “Give me that valley and I will make it happen,” he replied evenly without any hint of pretense.

The room devolved into a blend of voices echoing disbelief, amusement, and scorn.

Bradly’s father stood and stepped around the wide table that separated them. “Are you out of your damn mind, white boy?” he scoffed. “You would have us just… give you - ” he waved his arms at the two portraits being held by two shamefaced women, “Thousands of acres of our land just so that you can play the pompous, arrogant bilagàana.” He nodded gruffly toward Sue as he adopted the term from her language.

Peter sighed resignedly, ‘I take that as a big nope.’ He glanced around at the myriad of faces staring back at him and noted the different expressions among them. He had the nagging sense of something amiss as he turned to leave.

Back in the trading post, he put a friendly hand on Sue and Kathy’s shoulders, “Thank you for supporting me in there,” he said. “I’m sorry for the awkwardness and shame I caused you.”

“Fuck them!” Bradly growled as he tossed his hat over to a post where it caught and hung. “Wait ‘til they see the Crossroads when it's finished!” At the moment the entire intersection looked like a war zone as heavy equipment dug up the earth and re-surfaced the road dividing the four quadrants.

Sue turned and hugged him, “For what it’s worth, I believed in your dream,” she said sadly.

He smiled back at her with a determined glint in his eye. “The dream is not dead,” he replied gruffly. “Not by a long shot.”

---

“I need you two to come to Mesa to go over a bunch of paperwork,” the spicy harpy stated over Peter’s cell phone, later that evening.

He made a face at Kathy. “Why?” he demanded. “I just got home from Tucson this week?”

He heard a faux sympathetic moan, “Oooh, would you like me to send an air ambulance?”

Kathy giggled beside him earning a tart stare.

“What do you need us for?”

A heavy sigh, “Cher, you think maybe I don’t have my hands full between managing all your investments, your estate, seeing to your safety, and trying to get a feel for this whole CC thing? Do you think you could find it deep down in your heart to actually give a shit and help me out a little, instead of sitting around all day playing with your computer and eating frybread?”

Before he could blow up, Kathy snatched the phone from him and stepped away from the bed. “Hey! Maggy. So, when did you need us there?” Peter stormed out of the room with his empty cup.

There was a pause and when she replied Magdelaine sounded more like her elegant self. “Sorry, I would like to see you around lunchtime so we can take care of a bunch of power of attorney stuff, go over your security details, and discuss how much we are going to share with your sister-in-law.”

Part of Kathy felt a deep sense of pleasure at the title, then she pursed her lips and sighed. “Yeah um… just so you know, Ronnie is pretty put out with you for not inviting her to the wedding.”

“It was not a wedding, Cheri, it was a Marriage ceremony. You two can still go off and dance naked in the moonlight and burn sage-brush or whatever you savage dirt-dwellers do.”

“Nothing racist about that,” Kathy muttered back.

“Girl, I’m half Creole, that doesn’t work with me.”

“Creole ain't a tribe,” Peter snorted as he returned with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Say that to a Creole, pale face,” she remarked back primly. “Besides, whatever beef your sister has with me, she can air it out tomorrow.”

Peter blinked. “Ronnie is coming?”

“I’m sending the Citation for her first thing in the morning.”

“But, why?” he asked. “What does she have to do with this?”

“For starters, it’s a Saturday so it won't impact her class time. Second, she is a legal heir to your estate and third, I don’t want to see her getting caught up in…” Her voice broke suddenly, and Peter felt his heart shrivel.

“Got it, loud and clear,” he replied softly, “Can we protect her too?”

“I’m doing everything I can,” Maggy replied with a catch in her voice. “Anyway, there are a few other things I don’t want to discuss on the phone because we just can’t be sure about anything these days, can we?”

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Au Revoir.”

---

“Fancy digs,” Kathy mused as she pulled the Maserati up to the curb in front of the high-rise building. She lifted her shades and craned her neck to look up at the glass façade exterior of the gleaming structure. A man in a double-breasted long coat came forward to open her door as Peter climbed out of the passenger side. She handed him her keys and thanked him politely as he took her hand to help her out. “A girl could get used to this,” she mewed suggestively as she joined her husband at the entrance.

Magdelaine was waiting for them in the Lobby. She wore a short suede leather skirt, a matching blouse, and knee-high boots with 4-inch heels. Her black hair was freshly trimmed and styled with spiky curls that Kathy gushed over after they hugged. “Oh my God! You could totally rock a Super-Saiyan, at Comic-Con!”

“I’m partial to Forte, myself,” the mulatto woman replied as she demurely kissed Peter’s cheek in greeting.

Kathy squeaked and bounced excitedly as she hooked the girl's arm possessively. “I LOVE HER!” she burst at the empty lobby.

“Come, I’ll take you to our offices.” She led them to a bronze-finished elevator bank and pushed a button. When the car arrived, she inserted a badge into a reader and pushed the button for the top floor.

After a brief ride, she led them into a posh business suite that housed a main lobby and a dozen offices. That was what they could see from their current vantage point. All was quiet and serene about them as she walked them over to a corner office with smoked glass walls.

“Fancy-schmancy,” Peter muttered as he looked around.

“The best money can buy,” she replied casually as she led them into the spacious room that featured huge picture windows overlooking the city. She offered each of them posh seats and moved to get them coffee from a silver service.

“You bought this?” he marveled.

She smirked at him coquettishly as she bent low to hand him a fine porcelain cup, revealing her olive-toned breasts. His face grew warm as he stared. “You did,” she smiled knowingly.

He blinked in confusion while Kathy laughed aloud. Maggy turned to hand her a cup too and found herself caught by a long slender finger hooked into her blouse. “Oh no, sweetheart!” Kathy grinned, pulling her down, “Not without showing me the goods too!” She gazed lecherously down the girl's shirt and licked her lips appreciatively. “Unh, unh, unh,” she cooed before releasing her.

“I bought this… suite?” he stammered.

Maggy turned and stepped behind her desk sitting demurely with her own cup. “Baby, you bought the whole building.”

Peter coughed and sent coffee spraying as he gawked at her in disbelief. “You bought this entire building?”

She chuckled as she sat back and sipped her cup. “You sure did, Cher. Lock, stock, and barrel.” She winked at Kathy, “This coming from a guy who is buying an island…”

He grabbed a napkin and wiped his face off as he glared at her.

She blinked back at him with big eyes and a pert smile. “You didn’t think I was gonna spend MY money on this thing, did you?” Suddenly her tone went from eloquent Cajun queen to ‘Ghetto Betty’.

He just sat forward with his mouth open, shaking his head incredulously. “Seriously?” he exclaimed, “Just how much did I spend on this…?” he waved his arm around.

Kathy gazed back and forth between them with a delighted grin on her face.

“About forty-three million… give or take,” the financier replied casually.

Fortunately, he was smart enough to set his coffee down before she answered. He shot to his feet crying, “What?” He gaped at her incredulously. “Why?”

“Why what, Peter dearest?” she asked with a beatific smile on her glossy lips.

“I don’t know!” he grumbled staring blankly at her. He collapsed back into his seat and grabbed his cup. “Why couldn’t we have just… I don’t know… rented this part?”

She regarded him like an amusing kindergartner who asked the teacher what ‘bum’ meant. “At the rates we charge the 173 companies to maintain their offices here? Hell no!”

He grimaced and sipped his coffee before setting it back down. “Come again?”

She sighed patiently and winked at his grinning wife. “Darling, this building is full of other companies, groups, and… special interests. You have architects, realtors, doctors, psychologists, dermatologists, law firms, venture capitalists - like yourself - beauticians, counselors, corporate headquarters, employment agencies, union offices, two fund managers, Edward Jones, a regional bank manager, six state and federal government offices and many many more than I can remember off the top of my head,” she stated confidently, “And each of them pays us, rather… you, extortion-level leasing rates.”

“So, it’s a business venture as well as an office?” he asked, suddenly interested.

She nodded, “This building pulls in $1.2 million every month. It will pay for itself in three years.”

“I see why Jeremiah picked you now,” Kathy replied proudly.

“I see why he drank Vermouth all the time,” Peter muttered.

“Absinthe, Cher,” she smiled back. “Vermouth is for Godfathers and stevedores.”

“Shaken, not stirred,” Kathy quipped in her best Sean Connery voice.

“It would seem that my investment spreadsheet is sorely out of date,” he retorted. “Someday soon we are going to sit down so you can explain just where my money is going.”

She sniffed and opened a drawer, to remove a thick folder which she slid across the desk to him. “Up to the minute - down to the penny,” she smiled. “You are doing incredibly well, I might add.”

“I really, really do love her!” Kathy chortled as she leaned into Peter in a warm nudge.

He picked up the folder and began scanning through it. The first section reflected all the stocks that he owned in various sectors and companies. His eyes went wide as he saw the figures. Last September he owned roughly $7 million worth of stock in less than ten companies. He whistled as he saw that the 30,000 shares of MSFT had grown to over 100,000, alone. And there were dozens more companies, some of which he didn’t recognize. Asterisks next to many of the symbols lead him to several pages of Options Contracts that he held with the underlying companies.

A buzzing alerted them to a pager, that Maggy removed from her pocket and glanced at, “Your sister just landed at Sky Harbor,” she said standing up. She turned to a cabinet, which she opened to reveal a large wall safe. “Since she will be here shortly let's get some of this paperwork out of the way.”

Peter was caught up in his stock portfolio, so after removing several bound files, she began speaking to Kathy, “As you can tell, my primary job is helping your husband manage his money by handling his investments, properties, and capital ventures.”

Kathy scooted closer to the desk, listening attentively.

“Now that you are married it simplifies a great deal of things for me,” the other woman said as she opened the files. “I’d like to start by having you sign the same affidavits that he did when Jeremiah took him on.” She set several forms on the desk facing Kathy. “Since you now share his interests, I need you to give me limited power of attorney to act in your best interests as I do for Peter.” She indicated several areas where she required signatures and initials.

Kathy made a scrunchy face as she began signing and initialing. “What do you mean by, ‘interests’?”

“Like this building for instance,” the woman replied sipping her coffee.

Kathy looked up. “What about it?”

“Well, technically you now own half of it.”

Kathy gazed back at her with wide eyes, “This building? That we are sitting in?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And I own half of it?”

“Yup.”

Kathy finished signing and held the pen in her hand tapping it against her bright teeth, thoughtfully.

“Which half?”

Maggy paused mid-sip and looked up to regard the Native girl who was staring back at her intently, “Pardon?”

Kathy dropped the pen on the table and bounced out of her seat turning about the office. “The front half? The back half?” She stepped over to run her fingers through Peter’s dreadfully short hair. “The Top half?” she absently peered around and tapped her teeth again as she took her seat once more. “Which half has the best view?”

Maggy dipped her chin, swallowed, looking back at her with her head tilted sideways, “Um…”

Her confused expression faded when she noticed Peter quivering with the financial statement pulled into his face. He glanced over the top and burst out laughing when he met her shrewd gaze.

“What’s so funny?”

“Dang it, Honey!” Kathy giggled, slapping him on the arm. “You ruined it! I really had her going.”

Maggy sat stiffly in her chair and collected the forms mechanically while the two giggled across from her. She sniffed disdainfully, “I thought you said you loved me!” she sulked, throwing them both into another fit of laughter.

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled as she opened another file. She dumped a thick pile of legal forms in front of Peter and slapped her pen on top of them. “Here you go, chuckle-head, start signing. Those are for your Castle, those acknowledge the proposed merger of PSAS with Schroeder Industries, a Fortune 500 robotics and prosthetics giant. That affidavit acknowledges your stake in the company as a future shareholder in SCI. Those are the SEC Filings having to do with your updated financials and… oh yeah. Since you are turning 18 in just over a month… you can start doing your own taxes!” She smiled at his stricken face smugly as she stepped from behind her desk and refilled her coffee.

Peter gaped at the stack of papers in disbelief as he began signing everywhere she indicated with a tap of her lacquered nail. Kathy sat back and grinned as he muttered under his breath about the injustice of it all. It took him 20 minutes to complete the stack before he sat back with a drawn expression. “What’s with all the SEC Filings?”

“Just trying to stave off the wolves for another year,” she replied.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She gave him a pitiful look and nodded toward the folder in his lap that listed all his financial assets. “Did you happen to read any of that?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can tell you are way better at watching my back than I am.”

Her gaze softened at the compliment but then she sighed, “Peter, there are a lot of wealthy and affluent people in the world.” She rearranged the forms in front of her until they were to her liking as she continued, “There is only one seventeen-year-old, self-made millionaire, among them. A teenager who started with half a million dollars when he was fifteen and turned it into half a BILLION dollars in just two years.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “Nothing wrong with that is there?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. But in the eyes of agencies like the SEC - things like that just don’t happen when you are on the straight and narrow.”

“Hey, I didn’t do a single thing that wasn’t legal!”

“I know that,” she replied calmly. “And I am doing my best to make them believe it.” She scoffed and nodded at the folder. “Half of your money is safely tucked away in offshore accounts that they don’t even know about,” she smirked. “Well, they know about them, they just can’t touch them. Nor do they have any idea how much is in them.” She gazed at him patiently. “That is a big part of my job here,” she said. “To help you grow and protect your wealth and to hide as many of your assets from greedy little government eyes as possible. Hell, they are only aware of about half of what’s in that binder… So please don’t go leaving it out where anyone can see it.”

He quickly handed it back to her. “Shred it,” he replied quickly. “I’ve already memorized it.”

She nodded approvingly and slipped it back into her desk.

“Look, um… you were kidding about the taxes thing, right?”

“Is that the best you’ve got for an apology?” she simpered as she tidied up her desk and placed the affidavits back in her safe.

“Would it help if I got on my knees and kissed your feet?” he replied, half kidding.

Kathy howled with laughter, “Baby you might as well crawl under her desk and start kissing her where it counts!”

Maggy’s pocket buzzed and she studied the message on the pager before returning to her chair. “As appealing as that sounds… your sister just arrived,” she replied. “Courtney is bringing her up.” Then she smiled at him with a slow wink, “Rain-check?”

A musical ding sounded before he could reply and they all got up to watch as an elegant black woman in a flashy pant-suit led a curious blue-haired, pixie-cut woman into the lobby, towards the corner office. As soon as she spotted her brother Veronica gasped and dashed forward to hug him tearfully. She was wearing a short-sleeved, soft blue, pleated cotton dress that fell to her knees and Birkenstocks with warm wool socks on her feet. A Burlington winter coat hung open around her shoulders. He hugged her back while Maggy nodded appreciatively to the black woman before she turned and left.

“Oh my God!” she sniffed as she stepped back and looked him over. “What happened to you? Your hair…” She delicately touched the pink scar on his scalp.

“It's okay, sis. I’m fine.”

She turned and hugged Kathy tightly. When she released her, she turned and gazed cooly at the olive-skinned woman standing apart from them. “And you must be the saucy wench who couldn’t even invite me to my own brother's wedding!” she snarled.

“Technically it wasn’t a wedding,” Peter replied earnestly, holding up quotation fingers.

“It was a marriage ceremony,” Kathy nodded in agreement.

Peter’s sister turned to gawk at her in disbelief. “I don’t care what the fuck it was!” she retorted. “I wasn’t there!” she sniffed. “And I should’ve been!” She took Kathy’s hands and then gasped when she saw her wedding band. “Oh my gosh, how pretty!”

“Thank you,” Kathy tittered eagerly. “Peter didn’t pick it out.”

He snorted behind Veronica’s back and she bristled, “Why are you being so flippant about this? You almost died!” she blurted looking back at him. She turned back to Kathy who continued smiling at her warmly. “And you…”

Kathy cut her off by pulling her into another hug. “It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing her cheek. “We are all good.” She took a cleansing breath and then spun her so that she faced the pretty financier. “Ronnie, this is the spicy harpy, Magdelaine Desormeaux, we call her Maggy for short. She is Peter’s financial assistant and… business partner. And she’s one of my best friends in the world.” She smiled brightly as the two women regarded each other quietly. “Maggy, this is my favorite sister-in-law, Veronica.” Her voice caught and she squeaked as she grabbed her again and squeezed her tightly. “Oh God, I can’t believe you’re finally my REAL sister!”

That was a preview of Deja Vu Part Three: Soaring. To read the rest purchase the book.

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