The First Conception_Rise of Eris

by Nesly Clerge

  I faced her. “No. I’m indebted to you. I didn’t tell you what I’d planned, nor did you attempt to stop me.”

  “Yeah, well, I considered it one for the team. Including me.”

  I faced her. “You too?”

  She nodded. “I was nineteen. Bastard got off ‘cause he had a rich daddy who paid for a new building on campus in exchange for the college police and dean dropping charges. Called me a trollop who’d seduced sonny-boy, adding, ‘and God knows how many others.’ Who the hell says trollop anymore? There was one major flaw in his logic.”

  “Which was?”

  “I like women.”

  “Did you tell them that?”

  “What would have been the point? That fact would’ve meant as little to them as the truth did.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry you went through that.”

  Connie shrugged. “I recovered. Made me stronger. And it confirmed what I already knew about my preference. Ready to get back to the dorm?”

  “Take me to headquarters first. There’s something I want to do.”

  ***

  Connie walked with me to the laurel sapling. I dug into my pocket and removed the tiny silver sword. I found the just-right twig on a small branch and secured the earring to it.

  Connie whistled. “I’m slipping. Didn’t even notice it was missing.”

  “I suppose you could say I’m developing a level of craftiness myself.”

  “That’s an understatement. What now?”

  I caressed the slender trunk down to its base and rested my hand on the soil. “Caitlin, my precious girl, that’s one bastard down, an unknown number left to go.”

  “Friggin’ A.”

  I stood and backed up.

  Connie wrapped her arm around my waist. “What about the scalpel? You want me to get rid of it for you?”

  I shook my head. “I’m going to clean it and put it back in the lab where I took it from, minus its cardboard cap.”

  “Like I said, crafty. Who knows when they’ll find him? And they damn sure won’t think to look in a Stanford lab for the weapon.”

  “Friggin’ A.”

  I drank in a deep breath, held it several seconds and exhaled. Head tilted back, I looked at the stars. “What a glorious night.”

  CHAPTER 48

  It was nearly midnight when I crawled into bed. I’d been careful not to wake Jenni as I returned to my room, which was a wasted effort. Her bed was empty, as was the bathroom. I took a quick shower, got into my pajamas and into bed. I slept better than I had in months—a full twelve hours.

  Patricia always provided trays of sandwiches and cookies on weekends, for those who worked or needed to be in the company of those they trusted. This made it easy for me to skip getting something to eat on campus and arrive at headquarters sooner.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I told her as I scrambled to put my purse up and get to work.

  “No need to apologize.”

  I scarfed down one of the small, triangular crust-less sandwiches then two more.

  Patricia chuckled. “Glad to see your appetite is returning.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Help me get something from my office.”

  I nodded, grabbed a couple of ginger cookies, which I ate as I followed her. Once in her office, rather than retrieving anything, she closed the door. “Sorry about the fib,” she said. “I preferred that our conversation be private.”

  “Okay.”

  She gestured toward the sofa. “Let’s sit.”

  I lowered myself onto one end of the sofa.

  Patricia sat in her favorite cushy chair across from me. “Day before yesterday, Connie said she thought she’d located your assailant. Has she gotten back to you with anything new?”

  “Yes.”

  She shifted forward. “And?”

  “He’s been dealt with.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Mind if I ask how?”

  I looked away. “He’ll never again bother another woman.” I faced her and looked directly into her eyes. “Not in this life or the next.”

  Patricia went completely still. For a moment I was terrified about what she might say or do.

  “So,” she said, “problem solved.”

  “Problem solved.”

  “Do you mind sharing the details?”

  “Will they offend you? Because if so, I’d rather keep our relationship intact.”

  She crossed her heart and held up her hand, palm facing me. “Our sisterhood is our bond.”

  Patricia let me speak without interruption. When I finished giving her every minute detail, she smiled and said, “Wham!”

  I grinned at her. “You said it.”

  We were silent for two milliseconds then began to laugh.

  And we continued to laugh.

  Until we cried.

  CHAPTER 49

  I scooted back on Brenda’s sofa, a mug of tea in hand. Nose inches above the steam, I inhaled the minty aroma.

  This time, rather than taking a seat on the other end of the sofa, Brenda occupied the plush chair next to where I sat, which was positioned at a ninety-degree angle to the sofa. She sipped her tea. I sipped mine and waited.

  “Katherine, one thing WAM women do is protect each others’ secrets.” She rested her mug atop a coaster on the small table next to her. “Only in the most extraordinary circumstances will any of us ever mention anything to anyone in the organization, and this occurs solely between or among a few select women at the top level. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “Only partially.”

  “I hesitate because I don’t want to disrupt your and another WAM member’s relationship.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. “Where’s this going?”

  “Only as far as you choose. Patricia gave me no specifics, you understand, but she did suggest that you might have something significant you need to talk about. Something you may need to deal with for the purposes of healing. Any idea what that might be?”

  I looked away and stayed silent.

  “I hope you won’t be angry with her for mentioning even that much to me.”

  “I’m not. She’s looking out for me.”

  Brenda exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

  I wrapped my hands around the mug and leaned forward. “I would like to talk to you, but I need to know your oath of doctor-patient confidentiality is sacrosanct.”

  “It is.”

  “Even if the topic broaches the legal arena?”

  “Even then. I assure you it won’t be the first time.”

  The pile of sopping, wadded tissues on the cushion next to me grew as I told her about the rape and the loss of Caitlin. My eyes were dry as a bleached bone when I told her about what I’d done to Eric. I omitted any mention of Connie.

  “Katherine, people who wound others are themselves wounded. Violence often begets violence and becomes a vicious vortex of self-entrapment.”

  “I don’t care about their wounds,” I shouted. “I care about our wombs, ours and our daughters’.”

  “Please don’t take my statement as a personal affront. I assure you it wasn’t meant that way.”

  “Now that you know what I’m capable of, do you find me repugnant?”

  Brenda stared at a point on the far wall then said, “Not at all.” In a voice that sounded as though she’d mentally left the room, she added, “Most of us have no idea what we’re capable of until we’re forced to find out.”

  I left my question unasked. “I’m relieved. Surely you see that I couldn’t trust the establishment to right the injustice. Even if they’d locked him away for the remainder of his life, which we both know they wouldn’t, it wouldn’t have been punishment enough.”

  She returned her gaze to me and nodded. “No personal satisfaction.”

  “Exactly. And, even then, my satisfaction level is minimal.” I got up and paced. Brenda waited for me to speak again.

  I paused and looked at
her. “I imagine I should feel terrified about getting caught, though I was profoundly careful. Perhaps I should even feel terrified of what I can and will do, but I’m not. I imagine regret or remorse should chase me in my dreams, but I sleep like …” Our eyes met as the clichés, sleep like a baby and sleep like the dead, hung unsaid in the air. “I sleep better than I probably should.”

  “Your response is understandable. At least it’s over and done with.”

  I walked to the window and fixed my focus on Caitlin’s tree. “I’d do it again, if given the chance, and with an equal absence of guilt.”

  “You mean if forced into a similar circumstance, which I pray you never are.”

  “I meant exactly what I said.” I returned to the sofa, picked up my mug and sipped as Brenda remained silent while wearing an expression I couldn’t decipher.

  Then I told her about taking the earring and what I’d done with it. “It hangs there like the sword of Damocles, a silent threat to all men who overpower women or think it’s their right to.”

  “It’s a two-way concept, Katherine.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Every person who grasps power and clutches it lives under some form of fear.”

  “I’ve lived powerlessly under a form of fear, especially of men, and for just cause, nearly as long as I’ve been alive.”

  “That sword was held by a single horse hair, as you recall.”

  “There’s a point you’re trying to make.”

  “All I’m saying is that certain types of power are tenuous.”

  “You’re advising me to proceed with caution.”

  “For what it’s worth.”

  “Your opinion matters. So, noted.”

  “Please understand me—I side with you. My concern is for your safety and well-being. Always. I don’t begrudge what you felt you had to do or that you did it. My concern is that there’s a slippery-slope aspect to this path.”

  “Then I’ll have to wear shoes with cleats.” I hesitated a moment then asked, “Do you think my actions are indicative of someone becoming what your profession might call troubled?”

  “No more, my dear Katherine, than the rest of us who’ve been traumatized. It comes with the territory, though perhaps not to the same extent.”

  I chatted with Brenda for five minutes more then left after receiving a comforting hug from her. She’d made a few comments, I assumed rote ones derived from her field of training, but I was certain of her support. The lecture and scolding I’d anticipated were not delivered, only love and understanding and concern.

  I couldn’t speak as to members at lower levels of this extraordinary organization, but the ones at the top stood out in an exemplary fashion. These women didn’t play around. No games. No subterfuge, especially among each other.

  They also understood the need for revenge when and as appropriate.

  They’d need to.

  Because future plans had begun to form in my mind.

  CHAPTER 50

  Awhile back, Patricia had told me WAM women were involved in a revolution, one where women would be positioned to call the shots and rule the world. I hadn’t asked for specifics then or as yet, nor had she expounded about this since that time, but I liked the sound of it even more now.

  She’d also said her hope was that this could be accomplished in her lifetime, though her tone indicated she believed their efforts would continue into the next generation, maybe beyond, before fully achieved. I wasn’t willing to be as patient. It might take a number of years, but the revolution would happen far sooner—it had to. I’d do whatever I could to make it so. A concrete plan was required. When I felt the timing was right, I’d ask her for more information, which was needed if I was to succeed in devising a strategy.

  Patricia and I were alone one evening after everyone else had gone home for the day. I told her about my father, about Buster, about the others, and about my mother. I deliberately left out what Abigail had done to me.

  She patted my hand and said, “I’ve heard numerous stories of every kind of abuse, but it still shocks me to hear the cruelty women are forced to suffer. When abuse involves children, my blood boils, and I want to hurt anyone who does such things.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Patricia tilted her head to the side and said, “Why do I feel there’s something more to your comment?”

  “I want revenge. I started with Eric. Buster’s next.”

  “Ending with whom?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll have to see. For now, I have a list with several names on it—a starter list, you might say. I’ve recently added two names.” My face wrinkled in disgust at the thought of Clyde and Jared. “One significant name is missing. Rather, I should say confirmation of a name is lacking. But I have my suspicions.”

  “The question mark you mentioned, reserved, I presume, for the man who killed your mother.”

  I lowered my head and nodded.

  “Is it your intention to turn them all into eunuchs?”

  “That’s an unknown at this time, though a possibility. I suppose it depends on circumstances.”

  “If retribution truly is your intention, I suggest you avoid establishing a modus operandi.”

  “Point well taken. Any suggestions?”

  “Considering your scientific and medical knowledge, and your developing skills, it seems, to me at least, that you have a cornucopia of options.” She got to her feet. “I think it’s time to expand your awareness of our more particular enterprises.”

  Directly behind Patricia’s desk was a long credenza. Left of that was a built-in bookcase that stopped eighteen inches before that wall intersected with the side wall. She walked to the end of the bookcase and motioned for me to join her. I did, wondering which of the volumes held information reserved for those to whom she chose to reveal their contents.

  She faced me, her expression stern. “I promised that one day I’d show you the laboratories. Remember?”

  My pulse sped. “Is today that day?”

  “Have you mentioned the fact of the labs or discussed their existence with anyone, even a member?”

  I had the briefest thought of Abigail. Relief flooded through me that I’d refrained from saying more regarding this organization, especially about this aspect. I shook my head. “Not a word to anyone.”

  “One of the strongest bonds of our sisterhood is the secrets we know about each other and keep sacred. Your secrets are safe with me, but in order for me to involve you at the highest level, you have to swear to me, here and now, that what you learn beyond this point will go with you to your grave.” She smiled and rested her hand on my forearm. “After you live a long and healthy life, of course.”

  My insides fluttered with excitement. I crossed my heart and held up my hand. “I swear on all I hold sacred.”

  She chuckled. “Accurate sentiment, if not a tiny bit dramatic.”

  “So it’s different when you do it?”

  “Touché.”

  Patricia pushed on the wall panel in the gap at the end of the bookcase, which was, in reality, a magnetic door. It swung toward us and opened to a tiny windowless room empty of everything but the paint on the walls and a keypad next to another door directly across from us.

  She pulled the panel door closed and crossed to the keypad. The keypad had a shield around the top and both sides, so as to make it impossible for any bystander to see the numbers punched in. Fingers placed over the numbers, she keyed a code in to unlock the other door, which opened to a hallway several yards long and ended at an elevator.

  At the elevator, she punched in numbers on another covered keypad that activated a screen positioned above it. Patricia stood completely still in front of the screen. A red light came on then shifted to green. The elevator doors opened and I followed her in.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Facial recognition is required for entry.”

  “I had no idea that technology was available yet, much les
s to the general public.”

  “It isn’t.”

  She pushed a button marked 3L. The doors slid shut silently. I knew we were moving because the light shifted behind the numerals above the doors.

  Patricia also watched the numerals confirm our descent. “I told you we have remarkable professional women as members, women committed to our goal. Geniuses, really, and easily persuaded to join us where they’re not only compensated well but appreciated and respected.

  “Their combined efforts created this system for our usage. And although I share at meetings that my husband is wealthy, that’s an understatement. I put most of my fifty percent into solid investments, which allowed me to increase my settlement exponentially, and that amount continues to increase.”

  The elevator stopped. The doors opened, as did my mouth.

  I stepped into the large gleaming space and said, “If I believed in heaven, this would be it.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Patricia stretched her arms wide. “From the first door I opened, we began entry into our network of labs and areas restricted to high-ranking members and personnel I selected. Only the top echelon—a comparatively small number—know anything goes on below ground, or even that there is anything underground.”

  “Are you saying I’m now one of you?”

  She rested an arm across my shoulders. “Yes, Katherine. After my many and sundry experiences, I’m an excellent judge of character and of what a member may potentially contribute to our organization and, specifically, to our cause.”

  My mind absorbed the fact of this equipment-filled room, including top-of-the-line computers at each workstation. Several scientists worked diligently at whatever would lead them to fulfill their purpose.

  Patricia pointed. “See that door to the left at the far end?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled and winked at me. “If you look carefully, you’ll see entry also requires facial recognition.”

  “I could ask what goes on in there, but would you tell me?”

  “Better. I’ll show you.”

  I followed her, eyes wide, as she nodded at or spoke to women who were able to glance up from what they attended to without spoiling a result. Each woman whose gaze shifted to me smiled. I beamed my delight back at them.