CHAPTER 1 – THE TIP OF THE PROVERBIAL ICEBERG TILTS
The Dream undulates, rumbles. Storms churn heavier across both worlds, synchronized to want and desire, to advent of its Will made manifest, to fate interwoven to whim or capricious deviltry, it cares not which. Moments become stretched out, twisted to temporal solution to millennium aged thorns stuck in proverbial jack in the boxes of inclination and remediation, where once was one, now two, dividing the copious engender of tomorrows. Threads long rotting and upon the verge of dissolution are rejuvenated and the table of partition is slid to connections, interwoven commonality tied to judicious application of bones rolled against the back drop of cosmic evolution, what should be versus what is, a runed response to shifting tides eternal in their cresting of cacophony.
The variations of expulsion of movement, whether rain or ice or any other violent demonstration paint a striation of nerves and mythic denunciations of purpose and explanation. A thought that takes a homicidal torrent of lives and an endless stacked cavalcade of todays to shift one pebble upon the premise and precipice of a different dawn lit to a different sky with different hopes and different measures to fulfillment and sacrificial requirement, is but a closing of lids within the taking of a breath to an entity finger fucking at least a million variations of reality upon the skein of eternity in repose to the cycle of creation to transformation and just down right enunciation of a word or sound that would require a millennia within itself to define.
When the shit hits the fan it really does a number, a regular Picasso of Davinci humping in the exploratory expression of piss in pants metaphorical crayon draws. And the Armageddon is front and center, frame noir, shadows heavy in the telling.
***
“You got to be fucking pulling my chain!?” Tank was digging a groove into the floor as she paced back and forth muttering curses under and over her tongue. Everyone else had moved themselves to sitting asses in rickety chairs around a rickety table. Blue had a bottle of whiskey in his hand, pulling slugs and staring in awe at the founder of the Lanterns and Godfather of Soul Forging, the Old Wolf and the Rat, who each, were pulling their own liquor down throats. Lorelei attempted to not be irritated, surrounded by legends on every side. Devi was having the time of his life, so shocked, he wasn’t even babbling as usual, just stared, moon eyed, in every direction. The Hound, shocked her even more, smiling and laughing with his father. The son of the Old Wolf, of course he was. Could the man become any more insufferable? She much preferred his grimaces and hard stares. T’Shani’s giggles echoed in her back drop.
It had taken ten minutes to get the strange woman and the two half-wolf people off their knees and holding in their need to genuflect. The woman, whose name was B’Raza and was dryad nobility kept flitting her eyes towards her, which was making her feel like some B grade old vid star. T’Shani filled her in on what that meant and the reason they kept bowing.
Tuath De’Denaan were considered the top of the heap in the Sidhe society, add in that T’Shani was the top of the tippy tippy top on that particular pile, made it worse. When she asked how they would know that she was royalty? Lorelei understood by physical appearance they would get the whole background heritage but T’Shani explained most Sidhe of all types could sense the general spirit of entities in their close proximity, or relative strength.
At least the two wolfy people were keeping their staring from across the room as they had retaken their guard duty. Tank’s mumbling once again rolled to intelligible as she stopped pacing and hard stared her Boss.
“I mean seriously Boss. Blue and I been chugging the choo choo at your side for close to thirty years and not once, not fucking once, have you..you, even in a tiny hint, laid out that the big cheese is your pops!? Not to mention, that’s a pretty late start Old Man, your son is only fiftiesh, and you, you have got to be hitting almost a couple thousand if the myth is hammer hitting the nail, that you been around since the beginning of the sky cheese hitting the start button to this whole shit fest. To say the least, I’m a bit miffed Bosseroni.”
Blue sighed, took another swig and bellowed out to his squad mate.
“Quit bitching Tankie and come over here and take a swig of the hooch, damn good shit.”
She smiled and threw a wink Lorelei’s way.
“Nah. I’m more of a beer girl.”
The Old Wolf smiled. He eyed his son.
“So nothing’s changed kiddo. I still like these two as much as I did back in the day. Just the right mix of violence and fuck it all attitude.” He threw hard eyes at Tank that had her take a step back, hand sliding to her combat knife. His hard look turned to a heavy laugh.
“Sit your ass down girl. I’ll get you a cold beer.”
Tank’s smile lit canyon wide.
“Now you’re talking Old Man. You should of led with that.”
She took a look back at the two wolven guards and the dryad hybrid. Still eyeballing them, she sat her ass on another rickety chair that wobbled under her weight. The Old Wolf slammed down a chilled bottle of beer. She smiled. Then his hand like lightning smacked the back of her head and she fell tin can ass backwards out of the chair onto the ground in her befuddled reaction. She leapt to her feet, eyes blazing with fury, her combat knife two inches out of it’s sheath before she realized who she was about to draw on, then slammed it back home. Her eyes still blazed with an ingrained fury that didn’t give two fucks who she was facing. The Old Wolf’s voice was gutteral.
“Some sass is expected girl but don’t think I still can’t put you down hard and fast when need be.”
Blue stood this time and threw a look at Tank then back at the Founder of the Lanterns, knuckles tightened. The Hound’s voice spiked the room with horror and violence on the edge of nothing. The two wolvens seem torn. The Old Man was the pack leader but they could sense something within the son that demanded obedience in their souls and bones.
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“Pops, I love you. I’m glad you are alive.”
The words were cold tombs. His feet tread like a ghost upon the ground. Lorelei stood, one hand fingering her auto-pistol. Rat sighed and just sat there, looking irritated at his old friend but did nothing else, besides take another heavy swig of his scotch. B’Raza, like the wolven, torn, not cause of the Hound but cause of her, she could tell. She kept her head bowed. Devi just sat there like a turd left too long under the sun. Damn, he needed to get over the fan boy shit.
The Hound stood, eye to eye with his Father, who had more mass, but nothing in the room, came close, to the sheer precipice of violence as the Inquisitor of the War Hounds, in that moment of breath.
“You ever touch one of mine again. We will put a test to who is truly the arbiter of death.”
The Old Wolf’s eyes held shock, then regret. The Rat whispered under his breath.
“Your short fuse pissiness is gonna be the death of you old friend.”
The Old Wolf bowed his head to his son.
“I’ve been away from the game too long pup. I had no right. I apologize to you and yours. You, and they, deserve more, after all you have paid in flesh and memory. I offer no excuse. My pride and temper is as bad as the Brother of mine that ruined it all.”
The Hound’s body relaxed and the room’s heavy seeped ever so slowly into lighter moments. Tank slapped the Old Man’s shoulder, grabbed her beer off the rickety table and slugged it down.
“No harm, no foul. Let’s get back to fucking drinking. We get enough of the bloody violence shit out there. We family and friends and this is a damn reunion.”
She once again eye balled the wolven who had barely moved during the dust up and the dryad noble.
“And what the fuck are these? No offense meant, but are they some strange demon or our new recruit’s cousins?”
The Hound tilted his burn scarred eyes. Tank shut her lips, knowing where the edge of going too far was and that she had one foot on the line. She sat down and finished the rest of the beer. The Rat stood and for the first time spoke.
“Sit down nephew and you too Old Man. I’ve had enough of all of you and your macho bullshit. We are going to celebrate and enjoy ourselves”
He moved his hand underneath the bar and pulled another cold beer. He eyed Tank and Blue.
“And you two pains in my ass. How have you forgotten everything I ever taught you? Pick and choose your fights when and where you can cause most times you won’t be given either option.”
They both looked sheepish and Lorelei felt lost in a history she knew nothing about, all bow tied in living legends. Davi just sat dumbfounded and looking like a small wee lad surrounded by violent adults in heavy stupors. Lorelei was now more then utterly confused, she was perplexed, which irritated her.
“Are you telling me, the Rat, the Soul Forger, trained Lanterns?”
She eyed the slender man who looked at her as if he was insulted. The Old Wolf threw another laugh our like a boomerang off the rafters.
“Damn Ratty boy, your reputation has gone to shit over the years.”
The Rat hard stared his friend then turned it onto Lorelei which had her fidgeting.
“I’ll have you know that the big ole’ legend that is the Wolf over there I had a large hand in creating and if he attempts to argue the point I will mosey on over and kick his ass to remind him. I was his Second in our Battle Squad, in the beginning when we first got going. And over the long long years I have trained most of the elite squads under our care with the Old Man occasionally sticking his nose in and giving pointers. So of course I trained up the people that were going to surround his only child.”
He took another swig of the last of his scotch and pulled another bottle from under the seemingly endless supply.
“After the ages I just got more well known for my extra curricular activities.”
His eyes riveted to the Hound’s hand, fiddling with the soul forged rod he usually had mag locked to his back in the field.
“Nephew, you have got to be stroking the meat in a dingy bathroom to some demented back room porn if you are holding what I think that is. Why are you still carrying that around? You made it when you were ten and I sure as the Dream in the sky hope your skills have moved a bit past then since.”
This was almost too much for Lorelei. She just heard the Rat say his extra curricular activities, his hands in being the Father of Soul Forging, co-founding both the Lanterns and Magi-Tech, extra curricular activities. The Hound’s voice split the thoughts.
“Nostalgia Uncle. It was the first real thing I ever made.”
When he saw the Rat about to blow up, he threw a hand up.
“I’ve been working on something new to replace it. I could use some help if you are up for it? A forearm band with even great amplification of my telekinetic Gift.”
Lorelei wrapped that info up in her secret locker, down deep in the bower. Most people didn’t really divulge their gifts. Even seeing it in action didn’t always show all it could do or what it really was. So twisting shit around with his mind was one of his talents. Now that she thought about it the blasts she had seen come from the rod did have a physical force. And she had stupidly thought it came from the weapon instead of a Gift. He was a sneaky bastard, her new man, then realized the thought and flipped it in her mind to Boss, though that word irritated her even more. T’Shani wisely stifled the laughter and made no piffy commentary.
The Rat’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
“I’m stealing your son for a bit Old Man. You two can catch up when I’m finished with him.”
The two left whispering to each other and the Old Wolf smiled, lost in nostalgia as if he had seen this play a thousand times, the two stuck in their Soul Forging corner, and it was a fond memory if Lorelei could parse anything. She stretched out and took a small sip from the cup in front of her of some nectar mixed with vodka she thought. She could get behind sitting in this room for a couple hours, minus the staring Sidhe, have a few drinks, relax. That vision was crumpled in two shakes of a dog’s ass. Tank and Blue stood and gave hard eyeballs at the siblings. Blue’s voice spilled gravel.
“Alright you two. Time to shake off those recruit tags and turn you into bona fide Lanterns. The next couple weeks are gonna be torture to you two slum dogs and funny as shit to us.”
Tank turned toward the Old Man.
“You point us at the training rooms Old Man and we will get the pups to have some bite in those jaws of theirs.”
The Founder of the Lanterns chuckled and motioned to the two Wolven.
“You two, show them where they need to go.”
They both bowed their head and turned and left. Tank and Blue motioned for the twins with despicably evil grins. Devi had a flash of a kid at a candy store, of course he did. Lorelei just groaned, finished the cup she had in a swallow and reluctantly stood. The dryad woman rose as if to follow and she sighed a heavy lungful. Damn this was going to get tedious on the hard line to a quick run.
Lorelei fell in beside her Brother as they stepped to pain and tomorrow steps. The Old Wolf called out and put a clamp on the dryad duck duck goose road maps.
“Not you B’Raza. You stay. We have some plans to pitter patter through.”
Lorelei felt a chain slip her shoulders. At least that was one convo she could put off for a hot sec. She groaned at the thought of what was coming though. She had no delusions that Tank and Blue would play a soft form of paddy cake.