Erza quirked a brow at the sight of Faolan hauling a bound, gagged, and squirming woman over his shoulder. With a shrug, he dropped the woman hard on her ass before Erza.
"She's your problem now," Faolan said bending to slice the ropes around the woman's ankles. He gripped his captive's chin and glared into her eyes as he growled, "Either walk onto the plane, or I'll get mean--again. Understood?" The woman slowly nodded.
I'll be damned, the horse has fangs! Erza thought, taken aback by the Colt's behavior. Sure, he was an asshole, but the viciousness in his voice was new.
"Jo! Jo, what happened to you?" Prue cried, frantically pulling at the gag's knots.
"That cockroach kidnapped you, too? I'll kill him!" Jo bellowed the second the gag was removed.
"Damn, Prue, you should have left the gag for last. Now we'll never get a chance to explain what's going on," Zeke rumbled from behind Erza.
Erza's blood sparked. She stepped forward, uncomfortable with the fizzing sensation in her body. She followed Faolan's progress with her eyes. Something was wrong with him, but she couldn't pinpoint the problem.
Is he moving stiffly? I can't tell from this angle...
"You!" The word was hissed with such venom, such hatred, that Erza's mind jerked into the past; blood running in rivulets down stone steps. She shook the image away, refusing to be pulled into the memory.
"Hiya, Jo. Nice to see you; though I wish the circumstances were better," Zeke replied, his voice a jaunty salute compared to his sister's accusing tone.
"I knew it! You're just like him!" Jo screeched.
Erza's mind barely registered a red blur before a muffled smack jerked Jo's face to the side. The garnet colored robe tinkled rapidly as the tiny, enshrouded woman panted in outraged billows before Jo.
"You owe our brother an apology, Josephine Blackwood. He and his friends went out of their way to rescue me from him. They did not have to. They could have left us to his clutches and kidnapped Prue, just as you are accusing them of. Instead they tried to gain our cooperation peacefully. When things went south, they did what they had to, to keep us and themselves safe. Apologize to all of them, and get on that plane. Right. Now!" The robed dynamo lectured; the cloth trembling with the girl's fury.
"Sorry," Jo growled before stomping toward the waiting plane. Erza heard no contrition in the woman's voice. She frowned, wondering about the relationships among the siblings. She'd loved her brother and sister beyond distraction. She still mourned them. They'd fought, of course but that was just being family. They always made up and laughed about it before the day ended. She didn't understand Jo's reaction to Zeke.
"Lady Lioness, I apologize for the public airing of our family laundry," the maroon-clad woman said, curtseying beautifully. "Forgive me for not shaking your hand; I have a condition that prevents me from human contact. However, please know my family and I are honored to be of service to you and your people."
The woman's eloquence and decorum startled Erza. She'd not been addressed so formally since the Civil War. Not even by Roderick!
"Please, call me Erza. I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure..." Erza trailed off. Realizing she had extended her hand, she jerked it back, blushing at her faux pas.
Miss Maroon chuckled, "I am Emmaline Grady, but most people call me Emmy."
"Miller, Ramsey, Blackwood, and Grady; why do none of you share a surname?" Roderick asked, pulling a pack out of the Hummer and slinging it over his shoulder.
"We are half siblings. Our father enjoys women and loves getting them pregnant. The girls retain their mothers' surnames, while the boys, few that there are, are--graced--with his," Emmy replied.
"Wait, you said your condition prevented human contact, but you slapped your sister. Rather soundly, too." Erza charged, slightly offended at the woman's obvious lie.
"I am suffering for it, believe me. I have just become accustomed to handling the backlash...most of the time, anyway." She said, nodding slightly to Roderick.
"Oi! Are you going to talk all damn day, or are we skipping the blasted country? People are always standing around talking when they're in a hurry," Faolan grumbled from the door of the aircraft.
Erza rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, we're coming! Keep your pants on! Impatient Colt, isn't he?" she griped.
"He seems more agitated than normal," Roderick said, staring at the darkened arch where Faolan disappeared.
"You mean he isn't always as friendly as a bear with a bee up his nose?" Prue asked, pulling her satchel from the SUV. Erza snorted trying to hold in her laughter at Prue's completely accurate comparison.
"While Faolan isn't a candidate for Pleasant Pollyanna, he isn't usually so brusque when speaking to me... around the guys, anyway. Something's bothering him," Erza said, concerned for her young warrior. Was the Madness beginning to affect her Colt?
"I'll talk to him; see what's going on. Tell the pilot to take off as soon as everyone's on board." Erza spun away, and climbed the stairs into the plane.
Hearing a creak, she turned right and barely caught sight of the lavatory door closing. She frowned, debating. He could just be feeling the ill effects of some fast food he'd consumed on his trip. Maybe he urgently needed to take a leak before lift off. Did she really want to barge in on him if he was on the toilet?
The sound of a muffled whimper made the decision for her. With airplane bathrooms being the size of a postage stamp, she gently opened the door so it wouldn't hit him. She wondered why he hadn't locked it.
She choked and slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her laughter.
Faolan leaned over as far as he could in the tiny space, his pants at his ankles. Blood dotted the holey seat of his bright blue Smurfs boxers. She whipped out her phone and snapped a picture. The men would never believe her without proof.
At the click of the shutter, Faolan jerked around, snarling in pain. "Delete it or I'll blow this whole damn plane into space," he growled.
"Yeah, right, and leave your baby sister and brother to fend for themselves? I don't think so. Now, what's with the blood?" Erza asked, pocketing her phone...after texting the image to her private e-mail. One could never be too safe when ribbing a technological genius.
"Damn mare shot me the second I stepped out of the car; didn't even give me a chance to talk," he grumbled, wincing as he gingerly pulled the blood-encrusted material away from his skin.
"What did she shoot you with? A shotgun? Drop your drawers, I'll take a look," Erza said, stepping into the cramped room and shutting the door. She respected some of his privacy after all.
"No way. I'm not showing you my privates, even if you order me to. The guys would kill me if I even contemplated it," Faolan protested, backing against the wall. Not that he got very far.
"Oooh! A four syllable word! Somebody's been reading the dictionary again!" Erza quipped, enjoying his discomfort. As Regina of the Qikan, the only time she'd been allowed to truly tease her Warriors was during battle. With her sword in hand, no one dared tell her she couldn't, after all. Now, she could finally, truly be 'just one of the guys.'
"Seriously, Faolan, do you think I haven't seen the other guys naked in over four hundred years?" She hadn't, but he didn't need to know that. Boxers, sure, but never nude. Not once; not even a glimpse. They were such prudes.
"Who do you think doctors the wounds they can't reach by themselves? You know they won't ask the other guys to do it. Hell, they won't even ask Vladimir to cook their favorite dishes! He does it on their birthdays to make them happy, not because they ask. I digress," she said. Crap! I'm rambling; back on topic, she thought.
"Now, drop your drawers, and hand me a washcloth. Or do you want one of the other women on this plane to see all the men who've been in your pants?" she asked, staring at the little blue men on his boxers pointedly.
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened as abject horror crossed his face, quickly followed by resignation. "Fine, just don't tell the guys," he murmured. Turning, he shoved his boxers from his hips and braced his hands against the wall. His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth.
Erza eyed the remaining space before kneeling. "This would be so much easier on a bed," she said, studying the hard, naked ass before her. Hey, she was ancient, not dead.
"Well, sorry for not being able to accommodate your ladyship with a private cabin," he sassed.
Erza savored his surprised yelp of pain when she slapped his bare ass. Hard. Yep, the man's ass was granite.
"Lucky for you, Jo used birdshot, not buckshot, and you were far enough away that the pellets aren't very deep. How did she shoot you in the ass if you'd just stepped out of the car?" she asked, grabbing a pair of tweezers out of the tiny first aid kit under the sink.
Faolan remained silent, but the muscles of his back stiffened into hard knots. She prodded his hip, and raised an eyebrow at his resulting glare. He turned away. She started to carefully pull birdshot out of his skin. Curiosity gnawed at her mind, but she knew her Colt. Pushing only made him rear back and turn stubborn. She needed to be patient, to get what she wanted.
"She gave me a choice," he reluctantly mumbled into the wall.
Erza stopped digging for a stubborn pellet and stared up at his lean back. "What kind of choice gets you shot in the ass?" she wondered.
"The kind where the only other option is to have my cock shot off," he groused, flinching when she nudged a tender spot on his hip.
Erza snickered, "Your ass or your cock? Oh, I like her already."
"Wait till she starts insulting you. You'll want to replace that gag soon enough. Aren't you done yet? My ass is on fire," he said twisting his neck to look down at her.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"There's just a couple more; hold your foals. No...wait, don't hold your foals. I don't need to be traumatized by the sight of you handling your junk." Erza shuddered at the mental image.
Faolan chuckled. "You know," he said, "for a prissy royal, you're not bad."
She grinned, popping the last pellet out of his skin. "Thanks. You know, for a high strung, pain-in-the-ass Colt, you're not too bad yourself," she said, rising.
His rough guffaw startled her. She paused, her hand hovering above the sink, still holding the tweezers. Erza had never heard Faolan laugh so freely before. Her own tinkling laughter surprised her even more. She hadn't thought there would be anything amusing about their situation, but her Colt always managed to make her laugh.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Vladimir growled in the doorway.
"We were about to have sex, but you interrupted mmmff!" Faolan's hand slapped over Erza's still giggling mouth. She chuckled as he tried to slip behind her; the jeans hobbling his ankles making the action difficult.
"You. Were. WHAT?!" Vladimir roared, reaching for the sparkling hilt at his waist.
Oh, good grief. He never could take a joke, she thought, rolling her eyes.
She twisted, and knocked Faolan's hand away from her face. "For God's sake, Vladimir. Do you really think I'd have sex with Faolan? I admit, he's got a nice ass, but he's a little young and injured for my taste. Go grab him some painkillers, or a whiskey, or something," Erza said, stepping forward so Faolan could pull up his pants. His injuries probably should have been bandaged, but Erza knew Vladimir wouldn't let her do it. Faolan would rather die of blood loss than ask for help anyway. Good thing blood loss wasn't on the menu; his wound wasn't that severe.
"I've saved you a seat among the siblings in the middle of the plane. Roderick has assigned the rest of us seats in strategic places." Vladimir's voice was grim as his eyes flashed fire at Faolan.
"In other words, two of you toward the front of the plane and two in the back." Erza sighed. "You know, we really need to talk about how we're going to do things now that we aren't technically members of the Qikan anymore.”
"You will always be our Regina; whether we're part of the Qikan or an order of monkeys," Vladimir said. "We'll protect you as such. Forever."
"Forever is a long time, my friend," she whispered as she passed him.
The four siblings sat in stony silence. Erza sat down and prepared for war.
"Okay, ladies, I don't think I've been properly introduced to everyone. I'm Erza Leonidas, former Regina of the Qikan, and the leader of these men. I've met Emmy," Erza nodded to the maroon robed woman, "and I've heard of Jo's exploits with Faolan." She grinned at the tall woman's blush. "But, I've heard nothing of you, Miss. I assume you're another sister of Dr. Miller's?" she asked.
"Yes," Prue answered. A light blush tinting her cheeks. Her voice held a timid quality as she said, "Of the four of us, I'm the second oldest."
Erza nodded. Prue, Zeke, and Jo looked close to the same age. She had no idea what hid beneath Emmy's cowl.
"I'm sure we all have questions for one another. So, to be fair, we'll take turns. Zeke already knows quite a bit, so I'll let him explain what he knows of our situation," Erza said, leaning back in her chair as Zeke quickly broke down everything the Warriors had shared with him. She raised an eyebrow in surprise at the extent of Zeke's information; normally her men weren't so talkative.
"So, you need Prue's help to find this cave, and Zeke to do his archeological hocus pocus once you're there. So, what do you want with Emmy and me?" Jo asked, petulance reverberating in her voice. She sat slumped back in her chair. The woman crossed her arms. Her entire manner screamed 'leave me the hell alone!'
Erza shrugged. "Nothing. According to Roderick's report, Prue and Zeke wouldn't aid us unless the two of you also came."
"What?" Jo thundered, glaring back and forth at her siblings.
"Bringing you was the only way to be sure you'd be safe from him," Prue said. "I can't effectively do my part if I'm worried about the two of you falling into his clutches again."
They keep emphasizing that pronoun. I wonder who he is? Their father? Or someone else? Whose clutches are they talking about? Erza wondered but decided her line of questions could wait a while.
"It was a legitimate worry since Emmy's home was thoroughly sacked when we got there. If it wasn't for the secondary safe room and the keypad Prue designed, she'd be with Dad now." Zeke's grim retelling silenced Jo.
And that answers the question of the identity of the mysterious him. Erza thought, what--interesting--family dynamics.
"Miss Ramsey, I discovered this in the Hummer before we left and forgot to give it to you. Dr. Miller assured us you would require it as a bribe to help us," Vladimir said, standing in the narrow isle holding a white paper sack with a green cactus logo emblazoned on the front.
Prue's eyes glowed a warm caramel as her eyes fixed on the bag.
"Is that... a Monterey chicken burrito?" Prue asked, reverence lowering her tone. Erza swore she could see Prue's mouth watering.
"I believe so. From what Dr. Miller says it’s your favorite fast food establishment," Vladimir replied, handing Prue the bag.
A frenzy of crinkling and tearing ensued. Taking a huge bite of the enormous burrito, Prue closed her eyes, her face the epitome of bliss. She moaned low in her throat before swallowing.
"Vladimir, I'm your slave for eternity. If you need anything, come tell me," Prue said before digging into the food again.
"That won't be necessary, My Lady," Vladimir's tone hardened. Erza saw him lock his jaw, before he walked away stiffly. Erza wondered what had gotten into her stoic butler.
"Okay, you four are all on the same page. Now for the Q&A portion of our flight," Erza said. "Who wants to go first?"
"Why doesn't Mr. Cano have a vibe?" Prue demanded. "It's not natural. All things have vibes!"
Erza frowned and looked toward the back of the plane where Roderick had set up his guard position. She didn't have a clue what the woman was talking about. She called the guys over and put the question to them.
"What the hell’s a vibe?" Faolan burst, rage glimmering in his hard brown eyes.
"Be polite, Jackass." Vladimir said, slapping the Colt upside the head.
Ignoring them, Roderick frowned at Prue, "You said something similar in your shop. Explain--please. We don't understand what you're talking about."
"Everyone and everything has a vibration; a signal that our bodies give off that reacts to the world and other vibrations around us. I have the ability to see these vibrations and how they react to each other. Mr. Cano, however, does not have a vibration. I want to know why," Prue explained.
Interesting, Erza thought, I wonder exactly how useful her ability can be? She looked at her friends' blank faces and answered Prue, "Honestly? We don't know. This is the first time I've heard of such a thing."
"It's because he's emotionless... or maybe he doesn't have emotions because he doesn't vibe. Either way, the two are linked," Emmy piped up.
"How do you know of my Curse?" Roderick asked. Erza delighted in the blandness of his tone. He was keeping the Madness at bay.
"I'm an Empath. I feel the emotions of those around me, not just my own. I can't control it, and I feel them to such a degree upon physical contact that it becomes debilitating. The only reason I can speak to you right now is because of this burqa Prue and I designed. The fabric was woven with tiny crystals trapped inside to dampen emotions," Emmy disclosed.
"So, you don't feel anything from him and that's why you know about his Curse?" Erza asked.
The cloth around Emmy's head shifted. She assumed it was a nod.
"In the Hummer, you told me not to separate Ms. Grady and Roderick because their vibrations were reacting to each other. How is that possible if he doesn't have a vibe?" Vladimir asked, frowning at Prue.
Good question, Erza thought, watching Prue's flustered appearance as she answered.
"I don't know," Prue said, shaking her head. "When it comes to those two, I'm in totally uncharted territory."
"You keep mentioning a curse," Zeke said; his eyes darting among them. "Can you tell us more about it?"
Erza had known this discussion was coming, though she'd hoped it would be later. Much later. Preferably never. Damn observant men everywhere!
"We don't really know all the details ourselves. The first generation of Qikan born after the Cataclysm was born with--defects, and every generation since has been the same. Not all of these defects are physical or mental; some are emotional, others are just plain strange. We call it a Curse, because that's the only thing we can think of that can affect the whole race but be completely different depending on the individual," she said, looking each of them in the eye. She refused to hide anything from those who aided her.
Several moments of silence ensued as the siblings processed her explanation.
"So, how are you guys cursed?" Jo asked, breaking the tense silence.
"Roderick is emotionless, as you know. Vladimir has looked like an old man since birth. Lucius can only speak by quoting poets and playwrights. Faolan... actually, I don't know his curse," Erza turned to the Horse and raised an eyebrow. She'd known the man for a couple of years, but he'd never shown signs of fighting a curse, or the Madness for that matter.
"My curse doesn't matter; it won't interfere with my job," Faolan said, an unnatural calm in his voice. Erza nodded. The man's demons were his own, unless they harmed her people or interfered with his duty.
"What about you? What's your Curse, Oh-mighty Queen?" Jo asked, sarcasm thick in her voice.
"As Regina she doesn't have to answer you," Roderick said.
"Her Curse has no bearing on this discussion," Vladimir hastened to add.
Erza raised her hands, silencing their protests and evasions.
"I will not lie or put them in danger because I omitted facts about myself," she said, taking a deep breath.
"My Curse is being born with multiple personalities. Vladimir used to say I was born as twins in one body. My other half never aged beyond that of a six or eight-year old. The condition is linked directly to my eyes. When my right green eye is clear and functional, I am as you see me now. When the green becomes milky and random, and the blue left eye becomes clear and functional, I am my younger counterpart," she explained. She felt an odd weightlessness in her chest. Sharing the details of her condition felt--liberating.
"Are you conscious of your actions when the younger you has control, or do you have gaps in your memory?" Prue asked, her eyes the color of citrines in excitement. She dug around in the satchel at her hip.
"It depends, actually. We don't share memories, per se, but most of the time I can feel her emotions; I just don't know what triggers them," she replied.
"When was the first time you noticed your condition?" Prue demanded with excited light dancing in her eyes.
"Like I said: birth. She was mostly content to just watch and play in my head; only coming out once in a while. That is, until the night of the Massacre," Erza said, thinking, Wow. I never realized the change in her behavior before.
"The Massacre?" Emmy asked, her robes billowing a bit. Poor woman, Erza thought, must be blazingly hot under there.
"My father went mad one night and killed my entire family. I killed him, became the Regina, and she's been popping out more frequently ever since," Erza glossed over the details of that night. The fear, the rage, the agony, and loneliness did not need to be re-lived; no matter what her young self thought.
"Okay, calling her 'she' and 'the younger you' is driving me nuts. Let's give her a name or something," Jo demanded, sitting back in her chair.
Give her a name? Erza had always considered her other self as the textbook result of some pre-natal trauma. Giving the other personality a name would cement the fact that two people shared her body. Could she do that? Could she openly be two people? She didn't know.
"I'll think about it," she said, silencing some kind of argument she didn't realize was going on. "In the meantime, we have a long flight. I suggest we rest while we can. If you think of any more questions about our race, history, or mission, feel free to ask. The men are under orders, as of now, to answer them truthfully. However, they may choose to keep personal details to themselves. It's up to them."
The Warriors nodded and returned to their seats. The sisters fell into quiet discussion as Zeke cracked open a dusty tome--ever the scholar. Erza shook her head, reclined her seat, and thought of the other being inside her.
She'd never really considered the girl a Curse. Erza was certain the reason she'd awoken under her bed four hundred years ago was due to the girl's actions. How can you hate someone who saved your life? She hadn't considered the girl her own entity before, either. Should she? If she acknowledged the girl; tore down the mental wall separating them... what would happen? Could the wall even be destroyed? So many questions and Erza didn't know if she was brave enough to find out the answers