by J. D. Dexter
“Your grocery shopping call-outs came at, shall we say, an inopportune time.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
Josh sprays hot coffee out of his nose. His eyes quickly tear up and slide down his face to add to the mess. Brent chokes on his éclair, and has to do his own Heimlich maneuver just to keep living. Brian tips his head back, his bellow of amusement echoing off the walls.
Hunter just reaches into the pastry bag, his face a mix of humor and disgust. “Laugh it up, Chuckles. I’ll make sure I’m there to repay the favor someday.”
I smother my smile against the rim of my chocolate milk. No use getting him tetchy with me about it. I’m frustrated, but clearly not as frustrated about it as Hunter.
“So, Angel Socks, what were you trying to tell me?” Hunter asks right before he shoves three-quarters of a Long John donut in his mouth.
“You got quite the oral skills, Hunter,” I say down our mental link. I can’t let his donut eating pass with no comment.
The delicious fried bread topped with frosting plops onto the table top from his open mouth. The other three guys scoot back like I’ve dropped a box of tampons on the table and told them to count them. Their looks of alarm and disgust identical.
“Aww, come on, Finley! Dang it! That tasted good, too.” Hunter pouts, brushing his tongue with a napkin.
“That’s what she said.” I give him a wink.
Brian’s head tips back as he laughs.
“Finley Marie!” Josh glares.
“Oh please.” I roll my eyes at them. “That was perfectly timed.”
Hunter’s shoulders are shaking. Dipping his hand into the closest bag, he pulls out the last Long John. He offers it to me, his eyes wicked.
“Hunter!” Josh splutters, just like I imagine a big brother would.
Leaning forward, keeping my eyes on Hunter, I touch the tip of my tongue to the fried pastry. Watching his eyes heat, I pull the length of donut toward me with just my tongue.
Brian, Josh, and Brent all inhale noisily.
With a wink at Hunter, I snap my teeth closed over the end of the donut. All four men wince and pull away from the table. Hunter lowers his hands to his crotch in defense.
“What’s the matter boys? It’s just a donut.” I quip, my fingers sticky from catching the remainder of the donut before it falls out of my mouth totally.
“That’s mean,” Brent whispers.
“I keep telling everyone she’s a sadist, but nooo,” Josh shakes his finger in the air like a drama queen. “No one believes me, because Finley’s a good girl. She’s nice and only wants the best for people.” He blows a raspberry. “Please. She’s Satan’s minion, and she enjoys it.”
“Hey! I’m not Satan’s anything!” I glare at him.
“It should be noted she said nothing about the charge of being a sadist,” Brent says to Hunter, who just nods in agreement.
I smile serenely at all of them, and enjoy the remainder of my donut. Long Johns—especially the twists—are my favorite. Capped off with chocolate milk, and I’m in carb heaven. I’m just glad to have some semblance of an appetite back. Too bad I can’t subsist on just donuts and chocolate milk.
The men are sitting at the other end of the table. Hunter, the lone brave soul, is sitting nearer the middle. Watching these men I love reminds me that I still have people in my life who are important and love me too. It wasn’t only my parents.
My heart squeezes.
Getting up to get a wet paper towel so I can clean my hands, I get one for each of the guys too. Coming back into the dining room, I pass out the damp napkins. As I hand one to Hunter, I lean down and lick the piece of glaze he missed on the corner of his mouth.
“Get a room,” Josh calls from the far end of the table.
“We tried that. You guys are all cock-blockers,” Hunter says reasonably. He pulls me down to sit in his lap.
“Gross. We don’t need any details,” Brian sticks his fingers in his ears and shakes his head. “La la la la la la.”
Hooking my arm around Hunter’s shoulders, I move a little to get comfortable. He winces slightly before lifting me a little higher.
“Brent, you never got to tell me what else happened here while Hunter and I were gone,” I say.
“Oh right. Well, we found out you were missing when the FBI released the media statement asking for any information on where you might be, or have been. I was in court that day, and didn’t find out until Hank asked me what had happened to you.” He shakes his head.
“I found out about it on Facebook, one of my friends posted the article and tagged me,” Josh adds.
“Brent told me. I was out at a site all day, and we had enough problems that I didn’t get to look at my phone once. Not until he called me,” Brian says.
“After we all heard about it, we went up to the KC FBI field office. We spoke with SSA Scott Rickman—the same guy who I sent the audio recording of the interview to—and he told us that you hadn’t been seen on the campus for four days. He thought you guys had just bailed on the project,” Brent explains. “They checked the security footage and there was no sign of you other than the day you arrived. No one has seen Agents Scarsman or Lockwood since then either.” He looks at me, his eyes serious.
Great. More people to worry about being after me.
“Rickman said that if we found you, we needed to call him immediately.” Brent looks at his brother and cousin before turning back to me. “We haven’t called him yet. I’m not sure how you wanted that to be handled so we haven’t done anything about the FBI.”
“I’m not sure what I want to do about that either.” I turn to look at Hunter. “What do you want to do? You were missing as well.”
“I suppose I’ll need to call the hospital and see if I still have a job.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“You do. I made sure of it,” Brent offers. “When Finley went missing, I, as her attorney of record, contacted all of her patients and let them know, in very brief statements, what had happened. I did the same with your superiors.” He swallows. “Well, Sarah and I did.”
“Sarah? As in Agent Richardson?” I ask.
He nods, his cheeks turning the pink.
“Ooh, Brent’s got a girlfriend!” I clap my hands together.
“Stuff it, pint size. We aren’t dating. That would be seriously sketchy because of how she was introduced to the family.” It doesn’t sound like he’s going to let that stop him from pursuing her though.
Brent pulls out his phone, taps a couple of times and nods, and looks back at Hunter. “You just need to take a copy of your police statement with you to the hospital. You both will also need to decide on a plausible story, one that doesn’t implicate the FBI, for why you were gone so long. You can say anything you want, but I would definitely caution you from blaming the FBI. You could say that FBI Agents Francis Scarsman and Stephanie Lockwood kidnapped you, since they’re no longer with the agency,” Brent says.
“Well, considering that’s what actually happened, I’ll stick with the truth. You know, minus the traveling to other worlds part. I don’t need people thinking I’m any crazier than I already am,” I offer.
“I’ll do the same.” Hunter puts his fist out to Brent. “Thanks for looking out, man. I appreciate it.”
Brent bumps his fist to Hunter’s. “No worries.”
“Before we were so rudely interrupted this morning.” I glare at Brian. “I was trying to tell Hunter something,” I say into the silence.
“Yeah, she woke me up early, but talking was the last thing on my mind.” Hunter nods his head, a glint in his eye.
“DUDE! Yuck, she’s like our sister. We don’t want to ever know about that crap,” Josh says. The boys throw their napkins at him. Seeing the white wadded paper reminds me of the letters we need to discuss. We also need to talk about Jessica.
“Oh right. Did you bring the letters?” I ask Hunter.
“Yeah. They’re in the bedroom.”
“Be right back.” Hunter hel
ps lift me off his lap, his low groan barely reaching my ears.
Male snickers sound. Hunter just growls at them all.
Grabbing the letters from where Hunter dropped them, I make my way back to the kitchen. “I’ve read these, so I’ll just give you the highlights. You can look at them later.” I toss the envelopes on the table and watch them slide to the far end where the boys are sitting.
Brent grabs one, opens it, gives it a quick scan. Scowling, he pulls out his trusty phone, and snaps a couple of pictures of the letters.
“The first letter asks Hunter to take care of someone who is important to the sender. No names are spelled out, but it’s vitally important that Hunter protect this person.” I swallow, my throat dry. “The second letter specifically states my name and mentions that I can’t step foot on Ankarrah again or I could end up setting off the chain of events that destroys not only Ankarrah, but Earth as well. Hunter’s supposed to help me develop my abilities and this person will be sending some people to help us out.”
“When did you get the first letter? And why the hell is this the first we’re hearing about all of this?” Brent looks ready murder Hunter.
“I opened the first letter the morning after I put Finley back together.” Hunter’s voice is even. “I didn’t even tell Finley until last night. Which is also when I opened the second letter. We were late getting to my parents’ house because we didn’t know what to do with it.”
“And before any of you try to jump down his throat about it, I supported his idea to go meet his parents. They had waited long enough to see him. And quite frankly, I was pushing aside the letters for as long as possible.” I take a deep breath. “Believe me, had I not had a horrible encounter with Jessica, I wouldn’t be talking to you about any of it now either.”
“Who the hell is Jessica, and what does she have to do with anything?” Josh asks, looking perplexed.
Shaking back my hair, I give them the rundown of what happened in the Dreamscape with my biological sperm donor—AKA Jessica. Only Hunter finds this part funny. Brian, Brent, and Josh look ready to tackle lions barehanded.
Heaving a huge sigh, I say, “I know you all have lots to say. Might as well get started saying it.”
Spluttering, shouting, and arm waving begins in earnest. I let it all wash over me, safe in Hunter’s patient arms.
His stillness and ability to wait is something I’m coming to really appreciate about him. He only jumps into action when necessary. He doesn’t waste his time or energy over-reacting to things he can’t change.
“You all about done talking over each other? Or should Hunter and I go do some grocery shopping?” I ask the men at the other end of the table.
They finally settle, their cheeks flushing and chests heaving.
“First question: do we really believe this person is Finley’s biological father?” Brent asks.
“Don’t call him that!” I snap. “George Tindol is and was my father. Not this sperm donor.”
Hunter runs his hand up and down my arm, the motion soothing.
Brent puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Do we really believe this person is Finley’s sperm donor?”
I lock the push of tears and anger deep in a box to deal with later. “Jessica seems to know a whole heck of a lot about me. Considering we haven’t told anyone about Ankarrah, the fact that this person knows about that is a big flashing light of a sign that he’s probably my donor.”
“Okay. Then second question: what are you going to do about Anixia? If you can’t step back into Ankarrah without destroying two worlds, what are you going to do?” Brent asks.
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I just shake my head. “But if she’s this super powerful evil woman, I don’t think my women’s self-defense classes are going to cut the mustard in terms of defeating her.”
“How did that prophecy go again? Especially now that we know it’s about you,” Josh says.
“Crescent ruination conceived by midnight. Darkness destroyed, ashen angel birthright,” Brent provides immediately.
We all look at him. He shrugs and lifts his phone.
“Keziry, Brockten, and Drake the Douche said that many of Ankarrah’s philosophers and smart-kids through it had to do with the moon. But if Anixia is nicknamed the Midnight Queen, then it would stand to reason that she conceived this crescent ruination,” I say.
“And if she’s conceived me, it might also stand to reason that she’s got other kids running around. From what I understand, the woman is over five hundred years old. That’s a lot of time for nookie.” No judgements from me. Well, other than the condemnation of mass genocide.
“There’s nothing about me that deals with crescents or moons.” I shrug my shoulders. I’m not good at puzzles. At least not these kinds of puzzles. Give me a good crossword puzzle, and I’m there with bells on.
“Do you have any way to reach this Jessica?” Brent asks Hunter.
“No. Like I already said, I didn’t even know that the letters were about Finley, let alone have the desire to correspond with the sender.”
“I would like to see the prophecy written down. That way we can see where the emphases are in the written words. Without it, we might ascribe the wrong importance to the wrong word.” Brent sounds like he’s talking more to himself than the group.
“Well, what’s something Finley can start doing that will get her ready to defeat our world’s real-life version of Thanos?” Josh asks.
“I could start some form of martial arts,” I offer. “Not that I think it will do a lot of good, but it never hurts to be able to fight physically.” I know from personal experience.
“Why did you even start taking women’s self-defense classes anyways? I asked Josh once, but he just said that you wanted to be able to defend yourself. I definitely get that, but what you just said makes it sound like something happened,” Brent points out.
Josh and I lock gazes. He was the only person I told; the only other person I confided in. I didn’t even tell my parents. I certainly didn’t tell the police or a counselor. Odd, considering how helpful I think talking to counselors is these days.
He tilts his head to the side, I nod at him. “Finley was raped during her first year of college. She didn’t tell anyone, other than me. No, she didn’t report it—and no one’s going to give her a hard time about that,” Josh’s voice is hard, daring anyone to say differently.
I hold my head up and bear the angry pity in Brent’s and Brian’s gazes. I’m terrified to turn my head and see Hunter’s expression.
Suck it up, sister. Better to find out now if he can handle it.
I turn my head, and while there is pain in his eyes, there’s also a fierce pride. A single tear gets passed my barrier, leaving a wet trail down my cheek, goosebumps rising all over my body.
“You really are superwoman,” Hunter says quietly. “You were violated and betrayed that way, but found it within yourself to work with sexual assault survivors for years? You astound me, Finley Marie Tindol. Thanos has got nothing on you.” He leans forward and kisses the tear away.
“I’m not sure I would consider myself superwoman …” I begin.
“Good. That would make you a douche. Leave it to us to think that about you,” Brian cuts in.
I burst out laughing, the sound wet and heavy in my chest. “I love all of you. So very much.”
“And we love you.” Male surround-sound.
“Is the douche-bag still around? I know some guys.” Brent gives significant looks to the men by his side.
“Actually, no he’s not. He got caught, put in prison, and then somehow ended up shivved in the showers one evening.” I’m still not sure how that bit of good luck happened, but I thank the good Lord that he’s not able to hurt any other women.
“Good.” Brent nods his head.
“Seconded,” Brent and Hunter say.
Josh just looks very satisfied.
“I’m glad you’re as strong as you are, Finley. I don’t plan on
losing you,” Josh says.
“And I don’t want to imagine losing any of you.” The idea, so closely on the heels of losing my parents, and with Jessica’s remarks about Anixia threatening them, almost drowns me. I push it aside, shoving it into a box that’s starting to bulge at the seams.
I’m not going to let that happen.
Shrugging my shoulders and shaking out my hair, I get us back on track. “So, I need some ideas and plans. Jessica says that Hunter needs to train me, but considering he’s known about the Spectrum and everything about that part of my life for the shortest amount of time, I’m not really sure how he can help me with that.” I rub his shoulder in apology.
“Well, if we can get you started in some martial arts, I’m thinking Krav Maga—one of my crew guys does it—then we can at least make sure the physical side of things is taken care of,” Brian suggests.
A knock on the front door interrupts whatever he’s going to say next. Leveraging off Hunter’s lap, I take the couple of steps to the open the door. Hunter’s hand stays my own.
“Let me get it,” he murmurs. Quirking my eyebrow at him, he steps in front of me and opens the door.
He’s just standing there, not moving, not even speaking. I give him a couple more moments before I poke him in the back.
“Who is it?” I try to peek around him. As soon as I catch sight of who is standing at the door, I’m as stunned as Hunter.
“Finley, we have come at the behest of your father,” Lady Warrior—AKA Keziry from Ankarrah—says, a small smile on her lips. I’m too shocked at seeing her to yell at her about calling Jessica my father.
07
“You guys are the ones who killed the beast Finley told us about?” Brent’s eyebrows are almost in his hairline.
“Indeed,” Keziry says. “Although we have not had to deal with any N’ravagen in at least a century. His appearance was quite a shock. He was easily dispatched though.” Her pride in her abilities and team are quite clear. Her emerald and amethyst eyes even more breathtaking than the last time I saw her.
Dressed in what I can only assume is her downtime clothes, she looks like any other woman: low-rise jeans, t-shirt, and some tennis shoes. A bouncy ponytail holds back her cloud of blonde curls.
