“He’s not in,” responded the small voice of Duane, the computer nerd, hiding behind his monitor. “It’s only you, me and him.”
That was the computer nerd for you. People were either ‘her’ or ‘him’ and no one had names unless they were made up cyber women in some gamer world he invented.
Mary looked at Simon. “Well him, unfortunately our fearful leader has scarpered for the day.”
“Does it happen often?” Simon didn’t look pleased.
“Do you want a lie or the truth?” Mary had nothing to lose. Her job was ending so there was no need to be politically correct any more.
“There can only ever be truth between us, Mary.”
Yes. Why she thought that she would spend many nights to come lying awake pondering it. “Maybe you should—”
“Mary, you cannot keep avoiding this issue.” June Dalton, matriarch of the Dalton clan, chose that moment to sweep into the office.
“Fuck,” Mary mumbled under her breath as her mother, hot, sweaty and dressed too young and inappropriately came to stand before her.
“You need a man.”
Simon smiled from one woman to the other. “I’m a man.” He held out his hand.
“Simon Mayhew.”
June Dalton looked at the man with an eager greediness. “Well, yes, you are.”
Mary knew her mother was measuring up wedding gowns in her mind. To Mrs.
Dalton, though there had never been actual Mr. Dalton, the only good woman was a married one. The rest were doomed. “Mother—”
“Shush, Mary,” declared June Dalton, her gazed fixed on her prey. “My daughter needs a date for his sister’s wedding this Saturday.”
Mary blew out a breath in resignation. She was no longer surprised at anything her mother said or did any more.
“I’d love to take Mary.”
The ‘take Mary’ bit and the look in his eyes indicated he was looking at the taking being something more than a drive in his car and a moment by her side as
‘Oh, Promise Me’ was sung. To her surprise, Mary blushed. She never blushed.
Blushing gave away feelings. As far as she was concerned she had no feelings for Simon Mayhew. “I’m sure you won’t be in town.”
“I will be. I promise.”
June was delighted. “See, Mary? If you just make an effort a nice man will come along.”
Mary could have pointed out to her mother that the nice man swam naked and had a tattooed back and acted like a surfer dude for some reason that was totally beyond her, but her mother wouldn’t have cared if he was an axe murderer as long as she had a date.
“I’ll see you there, Mr. Mayhew.”
“Simon,” he insisted.
June giggled “Simon.” She looked at Mary. “If you won’t wear that pretty red dress then at least make sure you wear something nice.” Her eyes cut back to Simon. “If she only made an effort, Mary would be married by now.”
“Lucky for me, she’s not.”
“Well, this has been pukeable as always, mother.” Mary ushered her mother out and made sure the door was shut behind her.
“Pretty red dress?”
“It makes me look like a cheap hooker.”
Simon smiled. “I take it you’re a failure because you’re not married?”
“Correct, though my other sister Clare is a lesbian, so I guess I have the edge on her.” Mary didn’t want to smile at the rich, husky sound of Simon’s laugh. She was feeling too much, too soon and it was confusing her. “Anyway, I’ll make up an excuse why you can’t go.”
“Oh, I’m going.” Nothing was going to stop him. Simon was intrigued and excited at the idea of knowing more about this woman.
“Why?”
“Because I like you.” It was as simple as that. Powerful emotions like love came in a rush and overwhelmed. ‘Like’ enfolded you and drew you in closer with the need for more.
“You don’t know me.”
Liar. “Tell me I’m the only one of us who feels something when we touch hands.” He saw her pretty brown eyes widen in shock. Simon would teach Mary that love was not just detailed plots in the carefully thought out chapters of romance novels. It was fast, messy, fun and it rarely made sense.
“It’s the heat and the humidity. People go troppo and have crazy thoughts this far up north.”
“Are you ever out of control, Mary?”
“Who are you, really?”
Her answering a question with a question gave him the answer. Simon was looking forward to this woman letting loose any carefully held inhibitions she had.
“I own companies which I let others run for me, but in reality I am responsible for hunting down paranormal beings who are hell bent on destroying the world.” He waited for Mary’s response.
“Right, back to being Swerve are you?”
He was so many things and yet essentially just the one man who wanted to do the right thing and love one woman forever. “Did you like him?”
“Why do you act like him, when clearly, you’re not some no-hoper pothead?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Hunting down beings who want to destroy the world?”
“Something like that.” Simon liked Mary more and more. That she didn’t fall at his feet like most women did due to his money was refreshing.
“I need to know where you’re staying. It’s hard to track down multiple personalities such as yourself.”
“The Sebel.”
Mary crossed her arms over her breasts. “No, you’re not. I checked.”
“Harbor Lights.”
“Try again,” she responded.
Simon named a dozen other hotels. Mary shook her head at each. This was not a woman who could be fooled easily. “In a cabin at The Rocks Caravan Park.” He was pleased when she looked at him in surprise. He wondered how often, if ever, Mary Dalton let anyone is close enough to know her.
“You’re staying in the rainforest? I live a five minute walk from there.”
That interested him. At first he had thought it was the call of the majestic mountains, the freshwater creek and the winding walking trails that drew him there.
Now he knew it was more than that. It was the call of his soul mate.
“Why there?”
“The area enchanted me, as you do.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Have I asked you too?”
“No,” Mary conceded.
“But I will.” The rush of pink to her cheeks made his cock harden in anticipation.
“Will you?” She was suddenly breathless.
“It’s inevitable for us.”
Chapter Four
Sholto had been following Simon Mayhew since he arrived in Cairns. He knew all about the man. That he was rich was irrelevant. Sholto was rich. The game they were playing was not about money. It was about power. He wanted more and he knew Mayhew was going to try and stop him. Most tried and generally failed because they were too noble to play dirty. Mayhew was different. He was an adversary like no other.
They had first met six months ago when he had mistimed his entry into another dimension and landed in the bedroom of a very naked man and woman. That was unusual. That they were naked wasn’t the issue. It was that he had been drawn to that particular location that was. Normally time lords were careful with their calculations. They measured time and speed and all the variables that would place them where they needed to be but occasionally a power shift would send them hurtling onto the wrong place. And that he just appeared through no portal like a door or a window or a fireplace? That in itself threw Sholto. Not that he would ever have shown it. He always concealed what he felt.
Naturally the naked woman screamed when he appeared out of thin air. The man with the long dark red hair and the tattooed back merely looked at him and said
“Dude, how goes it? Welcome to my humble abode, man.” He then got off the bed, seemingly uncaring he was naked and approached Sholto, hand outstretched
and introducing himself as Swerve. The woman had just stared in shock, opening and closing her mouth as if unable to comprehend that he had appeared from out of the nowhere.
At the time, Sholto had written Swerve off as a likeable airhead who offered him cold pizza and even colder beer. He had taken him up on his invitation, intrigued that the man seemed so unfazed by his nudity and that he was dining with an intruder in his home. Later, Sholto would realize that the man called Swerve was not some dope headed beach bum, but in reality a shrewd man playing a part to gain information from him. And he had, because Sholto had been careless and announced that he was a time lord and had been amused at Swerve’s “Wow dude, that’s a heavy trip’ remark. Foolishly, he had gone on to describe his travels and his search for power, over his beer, unaware that the naked man who only nursed his beer was taking every single thing in he said.
That had been a mistake. A big one especially when he learned who the air head man was from another time lord.
He called himself Swerve and he acted like an imbecile?
Yes.
That’s Mayhew. He’s the one that crushed the gorgons.
No.
Yes.
They trusted him?
And they died.
Sholto was still agog that one man had brought down the hideous nest of horrendous scale-covered women with their snake infested hair who by their sheer will could turn men to stone whom they then smashed into a million pieces. That the hapless Swerve had infiltrated, and some said charmed them into thinking he was an imbecile, had been the talk of the paranormal world. That Sholto had spoken so openly about his distaste of humans and his plans to rearrange their boring world into one of chaos and doom, as was a time lords want, had angered him. He had been made a fool and he had to rectify it. Torturing Mayhew would do it. Killing was too quick. Ruining his perfect little world would be excellent payback. His kind could not be allowed to stand in the way of what Sholto wanted.
Sholto scowled as he watched Mayhew and the other man at the half door at the post office. Hundreds of people would have walked by that every day without thinking about why it was a half door that seemingly had no reason or purpose, but not Mayhew. If he destroyed that, he destroyed the major entrance way into Cairns.
The tropical city was an untapped paradise that he wanted to play with and corrupt.
“And I can’t let him win.” He pulled his cell phone from his trouser pocket and tapped out a phone number. It still amused him that humans at this point of time and evolution used such a primitive device to communicate. Sholto thought about the communication implants that would be rolled out in three years time and how the technology would bitterly divide the world over the issue of privacy of thoughts and ideas. “Not my problem.” Nothing ever was when you were a time lord. You did as you pleased and rarely, except for a few noble individual time lords who had lofty ideals, was there a care factor about how others would be affected.
“Socia, my dear. Are you ready for me?” He listened to the woman’s response.
It was as expected. She wanted him, but she was wary of the consequences. Smart girl. “ Just be ready for me.” Sholto ended the call. He smiled. He enjoyed inflicting pain on the dark-eye wench.
* * * * *
Jim Kirk stood in the dark at the post office with Simon Mayhew. “This is going to be a hard one to deal with, Swerve.” Simon liked Jim. He had no idea of who Simon was. He was just a guy called Swerve. That suited Simon. He could be himself and not the wealth he has attained.
He didn’t use the dopey alter ego personality with Jim. Only the name. What they were doing was too important to play games with. Real names were irrelevant anyway. Hence the reason he used Swerve and his colleague was naming himself after the Star Trek Captain. In their business, names were immaterial because the bottom line was saving people from those who sought to inflict there will on others.
Like time lords. While they could never be successfully destroyed, they had to be contained and not allowed to run rampant through the world they knew.
Simon nodded. “Yes.” They had walked through the full door a dozen times to work out if there was any backlash or current that could be connected to the half door. But there wasn’t, and that was odd. Rarely did time lords have one single portal to travel though. “There has to be another one.”
“Maybe not.” Jim touched the door once more. “I want to go through.”
Simon shook his head. “No, Jim, I can’t let you. Just touching the door tells me there’s immense power behind it. It would rip you to pieces.”
“But we can’t leave it here, like this.”
Simon knew that. Amazingly, the door had been standing like this since the mid-eighties and no one had changed it or wondered why, until one local paranormal hunter and his friend had tested it out. Only one of them survived to tell the tale and went on to report it to the group Simon and Jim belonged to. “We need to make it explode.”
“Yes, but that’s not something we can do without causing a lot of attention to ourselves, Swerve.”
“Correct. I’m thinking a storm or a cyclone is what we need.” Cairns was cyclone prone. A big bang in the middle of a massive storm would be just part of the storm.
“Yes, but it’s not what the city needs.”
“We both know there are worse things than a cyclone, Jim.”
His colleague nodded. “So we hang around and wait for one, then blow it up and call it cyclone damage?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Jim looked at the other man with interest.
“I’m thinking.”
Jim smiled. “I feel a gorgon moment coming on.”
Swerve and Jim had been in that one together. It was not something either would forget. “I did enjoy seeing them shattered into a thousand pieces.”
“The nasty hags deserved it though it took forever to get gorgon guts off my shoes.”
Simon smiled. Yeah, it had been messy but worth it. As for Sholto? They could try and kill him and not merely contain him. That would be better. Despite mythology, killing a time lord was easy and irreversible. You just had to catch them going into or out of a portal. But Swerve knew Sholto was too smart for that. He was already somewhere in the city waiting to carry out whatever plan he had ready to enact. Swerve looked up at the sky. It was clear and star filled. Not the hint of a storm, let alone a cyclone. “Let’s call it a night. We’ll check in with the others and see what they think.” There was an extensive world of people who fought the paranormal. “I’m off to see a lady.”
“I’m hardly surprised at that my friend.”
“This is the one.” Simon pictured Mary’s face and knew it for a fact. Sure, they had just met and he knew she would fight it, but some things, like love, were just meant to be.
“The one? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Forever and ever until death do us part?”
Simon clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Oh, death won’t part us.”
He and Mary were meant for eternity. Now, I just have to make her believe it.
* * * * *
Sholto smiled. He had caught the tail end of their conversation. So the gorgon slayer was in love. That made him vulnerable. If he got rid of Simon Mayhew then that whole network of paranormal fighters was weakened. It was not formally acknowledged as such, but Mayhew was considered the leader. To kill him would give Sholto the freedom to do whatever he wanted. “And I like that.”
He watched Mayhew move swiftly off. He would bide his time and give his nemesis space before he followed him. It would not to do to be caught stalking his prey because that would give away what Sholto planned to do. “Kill the woman.
Weaken the man.”
Sholto smiled as he thought of Socia. He thought of the last time he saw her. He had left her tied to the bed, naked, bloody and bruised. It didn’t surprised Sholto that the strongest women were the ones who craved pain and domination. He wondered about Mayhew’s
woman. She would have to be strong to deal with what Mayhew would bring into her life.
“What would he do if I took his woman?” Sholto knew he would ponder that as he took Miss Black with the same vigor as last time. “I need some rope and a ball-gag.”
* * * * *
It took Socia Black five minutes to untie herself. Being spread-eagled and bound naked to a bed was hardly a new experience for her. She had long ago learnt to bunch her hands into fists before she was tied up to make it easier to twist out from them when her hands were relaxed. Once unbound, she sat up, spread her legs and looked at the bite marks on her inner thighs. They hurt like hell. She knew there would be similar on her ass. Some men liked to bite. Sholto was one of them. Socia ran her fingers down the slit of her pussy. Her skin was puffy and sore and she once again wondered why she could only come when a man pounded her body and treated her mean. The meaner they got the hotter she became. True, Sholto was worse than others but he was only giving her what she wanted. A hard, unrelenting, painful fuck that ravaged her body and made her mind switch off to everything and just focus on the pain. For Socia, the sexual perversion of a non-caring fuck was easier than dealing with things she chose to forget. Like the terrible things she had done in her life.
In Greek mythology a Siren was a woman who called to sailors and tempted them with the promise of their charms, only to leave them ruined for eternity. Sirens were heartless and whimsical and they cared little for anyone. They played with the affections of men and rarely cared when they broke the spirit of one. Socia Black had been like that. The men she called to all died because of her.
Augusta Cannon, her therapist who believed in all things paranormal, told her it wasn’t Socia’s fault that men had met their doom because of her. Augusta said it was all to do with free will and being strong enough to avoid temptation. She hadn’t blinked an eyelid when Socia had told her she was a Siren born and bred and that her mother had been the same. Her mother had not been able to handle the pressure of bringing pain to others. She had killed herself. Socia, fearing the same fate as her mother, had sought out psychiatrists, witches and occultists to try and find a way to deal with her affliction. That’s what Augusta called it. To her it was about being born with a genetic quirk and dealing with it. Nothing surprised Augusta. That was good. Because Socia needed someone practical to ground her.
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