Chapter 1

Cleopatra's death ending her Tale occurred even earlier than expected. We had over two hours before the 10 o'clock meeting of Xo's youngest angel.

Chanda approached me. "Xo thinks this a good thing," she told me. "He thinks we should meet in a more relaxed setting, in a café fairly near her apartment."

"Will Gia join us there?"

"He hasn't informed her of this."

"Hmm," I responded, uneasy and suspicious. I looked to Nick who shrugged.

"Helen's a bit blurry right now," he said.

"Fuck," I growled, seeing the same worry in my wife's eyes as I felt.

"Let's all go," said Nick. "If the puny prick thinks this is some chance to divide and conquer again, that will certainly fuck up his plans."

"I should remain," said Naomi. "I could only fuck up your counter response."

"Do you feel his presence?" asked Betty.

"Not yet."

"You think he's gotten subtle?" asked Helena.

"Maybe. But I think I could detect him wandering in my brain. Besides, if it's not current, I can stash things away from him."

"You will never be a sacrificial lamb," Nick practically roared. "Come with me. You too Salomé. We'll meet the rest of you at the café," he said, and we nodded.

After they left, the angels, Lindy and I conferred. "What do you think he's up to?" Lindy asked.

"I'd be there with Joe," said Helena, "so with the rest being Simon's, I'd be the last with Joe's offspring inside her."

"And me being there, perhaps he's making a play for Xo," Chanda nodded, "with this young angel being a hostage as well."

"That would be fucking arrogant," I said, and we all sighed, Simon being arrogance personified. "Why the fuck have I been seeding Simon's women?" I murmured.

"Are they?" Rosa responded. "Of course Eva is."

Neither my wife nor I wanted to hear that, but we grimaced and nodded.

"But Helen's minions?" the sweet and brilliant Latina continued.

"But they're descendants of Paris aren't they?" Lindy pointed out.

"Wasn't Paris Helen's brother?" Miwa reminded her.

"With both Eternal Wanderers' blood," Lindy nodded. "But the mothers..."

"All they had to do was look like Helen," Miwa pointed out. "They could have been anyone's bloodline."

"Or neither or both," said Rosa.

"And Helen being Helen, it could have been any of those," Betty nodded.

"Angelique acts, or used to act like only Helen owned her," said Lindy. "I don't know what her agenda might be, but it seems more and more like her own even more than Helen's these days."

"How does she respond to Helen now?" asked Rosa.

"Doting and respectful as ever," Lindy admitted sadly, bowing her head. Lifting it she said, "Both her and Consuela can't seem to get enough of stud boy here though."

Betty sighed. "Again we have no clue about the agenda, how Helen and her clones and the whole Quadruplet Quartet has to do with Simon and his agenda."

"Or how easily it converged with Nick's and whatever my being in San Francisco as a playwright had to do with things."

"Or me as well," Lindy added. "I mean with both Eva and the Quatre Q. That's the most obvious convergence."

"True," I said. We chuckled lightly about a silly competition so easily thwarted.

"Except of course," Miwa reminded us, "that Joe's remarkable ability as a stud seems to be taking center stage, perhaps more for Simon, but Grandfather is obviously interested."

"Both of them," said Rosa. "Perhaps Simon fixates on you, Joe, but I can't imagine it being pure coincidence that you became enamored with Lindy and that Lindy is such an extraordinary dancer and choreographer as well as a writer. Nick brought you into the fold, but you brought in Lindy."

"You mean I was compelled to be attracted to Lindy?" I asked.

"And me to you?" Lindy returned.

We contemplated that, gazing at each other. Though Lindy may not be the typical beauty or have the contemporary impossible model's or centerfold's body that would immediately snag a man's eye, and of course if she had I'd never even consider winning her over, figuring her out of my league, she did that thing that had stirred my heart from the beginning, tilting her head and grinning so adorably.

"I don't think I needed compelling," I said.

"Me neither," said Lindy. "He's tall and lean and impossibly cute. How could I resist?"

Shrugs passed through the collection of angels.

"We should go," said Betty. She went blank. "Go fetch Natasha," she said to me.

"Good idea," I replied, though I didn't know why it was.

"She's rooming with Naomi, isn't she?" asked Betty.

The idea became clearer. "Fucker," I mumbled, heading out the door with my wife.

Helena kissed me and told me, "I'll bring you your clothes there," and headed to our suite while I headed to the elevator.

When Tash let me in, she looked like she'd been concentrating hard. "Been writing?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she smiled.

"Going well then?"

"Definitely."

"Can you take a break? We're gathering at a café, and Naomi's on an errand with Nick. She'll meet you there."

"Okay."

"Why don't you get dressed? Helena's coming down with my clothes. I guess we're in a hurry or something. I can read some of your writing if you don't want me watching."

"I don't mind," she smiled, peeling off her t shirt and warmups. Only her panties kept her from being naked, and those came off too. She winked at me. "I know you're curious. Can I take a quick shower?"

"Sure," I smiled and sat at her desk, watching her sweet, petite ass sway as she disappeared into the bathroom, and getting a smirk and a wink at the last second, before bringing my eyes to the handwritten pages and the typed pages. She had told me she liked the old ways of composing. She felt it tightened her writing, made it more disciplined, and forced her to rewrite three times at least: from handwritten to typewritten to finishing on the computer. I decide to read her first draft for some reason, to see the original, unedited flow perhaps. Her writing, and I mean the actual pen marks on the pages, though tight and small, were easily read, much more than my scrawl.

I figured I'd start from the beginning, but glancing at what seemed to be midway through what she had been copying onto the typewriter made it somehow unnecessary. Almost entirely dialogue, I remembered Naomi saying her lover hadn't decided whether to make it a play, a series of stories, or a novel. At least with what little I read, it would make a remarkable play.

Just like her earlier play, which I knew well and admired, she displayed a knack for combining cunning with charm. But this had such a higher level of both that it made the festival play anemic in comparison. Even without knowing anything about what happened before, I sensed subtext and word play that even Shakespeare would admire. Though the dark perversity of it, and the malevolence, would have probably bothered him.

The thing is, I knew these characters. At this juncture, there was an autobiographical character, a character who could only be Naomi, a Nick character and a Betty character. Missing, though discussed, with no little trepidation confused with some sort of irresistible seduction, could only have been Simon.

The reading ended with my wife arriving. I dressed in what she brought me, a bit distracted.

"What's wrong?" she asked me.

"I just need to ask Tash something."

Helena accepted the delay.

When Tash exited the steamy bathroom naked, and my wife and I admired her as she hid her tall, slim body in black: panties, tight t-shirt and tight jeans, I asked her where she got her idea.

"Did you like it?" she asked.

"I think it's brilliant, Tash."

"Thanks. You're the first to read it. I think it's pretty good, too."

I chuckled. "It's far beyond pretty good."

"Thanks. It ... it's a dream I had actually. A quite disturbing dream. Maybe even a fever dream because I kind of was sick at the time. So real, though surreal ... I guess literally, all at once. I mean nightmares seem real when they're happening, but something makes them too ... impossible I guess to be really happening. Or they occur somewhere you have never been, or haven't been for a while, familiar but wrong, you know? This one had the aspects of the impossible, but seemed possible somehow, and the setting was ... well ... San Francisco where I dreamed it. So I couldn't separate from it, couldn't make the surreal real and escape. And it lingered like a bad memory you so much want gone, forgotten, so you can move on, you know?"

"Has it reoccurred?" my wife asked.

"No, thank God. But it disturbed me for some reason. I guess I'm trying to write it out of my system."

"Is it helping?" Helena asked.

"Unh-hunh," the pretty Goth half-smiled making her reply less than convincing, but she finished with, "Kind of. I mean it helps but it hasn't stopped really bothering me, just lessens the bothering while I kind of embrace it, make it useful, you know?"

Not wanting to downgrade her earlier play, which I didn't think she deserved, I held back from saying how much better her writing had become from this purging. I simply said, "Not only useful, but inspiring."

"I think so too," she grinned, hopping up to me and kissing my lips. "Thanks for the compliments."

"They're honest," I replied.

"I know," and she kissed me again. And to my wife, she said, "He's a mensch."

"My mensch, but you can borrow him," Helena replied.

I think it surprised Helena when Tash kissed her, lingering a tad longer than mine, not that I minded.

"Only if you join us," Tash said, and then reminded us, "I thought we were in a hurry."

"Let's go," I announced. The ladies walked hand in hand behind me.

We entered the second buzz clone driven limousine, the first having already left. Being the stragglers, the driver took off immediately afterwards. Betty and Alexandra accompanied us. Since Tash still had a bit of a crush on Betty, she shyly sat across from us, which also allowed her to gaze surreptitiously at the blonde bombshell. With Helena sitting beside her, that placed me beside Betty.

"The two best warriors after Salomé," I whispered into the gorgeous blonde's perfect ear.

She nodded and smiled. "I doubt we need to worry."

"Why's that?" I asked her.

"Too much too soon after his last couple of failures?" she shrugged. "It also makes Simon that much more susceptible. He has his band of angels surrounding him at the Pereire Manse, and this would separate them as much as you meeting with Xo's angel separates us. Maybe more so."

"Maybe he's joining them. That would definitely put us, I mean my wife and even Chanda, at the disadvantage."

"Maybe," Betty responded contemplatively. "You know what worries me? What Grandfather said about Helen. A cloudy brain? Not distracted or hiding, but cloudy?"

"More Nazi chemistry," I nodded. "What Simon attempted with me."

"Like that horrid poison he tried on us, angels susceptible. I wonder what poor angel of his got tested for this."

"I bet the Spanish looking one," I frowned. "Fucker."

"Probably," Betty grimaced, ready to spit out the foul thought, even if she represented Simon's ideal woman more than any of them, even Dagmar.

As our conversation continued, quietly but not quite a whisper, I noticed Helena distracting Tash with their own conversation, and an enthusiastic one at that. My lovely wife smiled and winked at me. It made me think why Tash hadn't been included in our secrets yet. I put it aside for later.

"Naomi," Betty exclaimed, albeit quietly, a moment later. "Grandfather figured it out."

The name attracted Tash's attention, but my wife brought her back into conversation immediately.

"He would have changed her, like he tried changing me, and Tash as well, being with her," I whispered. "Turning them unaware into his lackeys."

"I hope Brianna will be alright," she murmured.

"Brianna?"

"An actress. A strong minion of Grandfather's. She looks a lot like Naomi."

"Shit," I said.

Not long after, we arrived at our destination, a café trying unsuccessfully to bring the old Paris into the modern one. It looked too new, though it tried to look old, and lacked intimacy, being rather large. Unfortunately for its owners, and fortunately for us, very few customers other than those associated with eternal wanderers could be found. We headed to the back of the place, where a couple tables had been secured. I noticed Lindy hadn't joined us for some reason.

Two occupants amazed me. One didn't surprise me as much as the other. The woman, looking more like a teenager than a fully-fledged lady, had to be the cutest thing I ever saw, utterly adorable. Small in stature, which I could tell even with her seated, especially with the tall man sitting beside her, she had large, soulful eyes. Cheekbones also looked on the large side, and when they lifted with her smile, two wonderful dimples formed beside her bee-stung lips, on the thick side but narrow. And the button nose sealed the deal.

The surprise sat next to her, a lean and elegant Chinese man and one of the most beautiful men I ever saw. He definitely gave Simon a run for his money, even if, racially, they couldn't have been more different. What surprised me was my preconception that Xo would be a fat laughing Buddha or something, which he was anything but. No broad smile, but an enigmatic one, full of confidence and wisdom. I knew immediately it had to be Xo.

"I'm Joe too," I smiled and offered him my hand to shake.

He chuckled softly and shook my hand. "This is Zhenzhen," he gestured to the adorable creature, "my most precious gem."

"A pleasure," I bowed to her. She blushed. Fucking adorable.

"And to my left is her sister," he continued. I barely noticed the woman, though lovely in herself, and reaching a maturity I hazarded to guess, in her upper thirties. Oriental women had to be the hardest to guess their years of life, but she had that confidence mixed with a touch of sadness that suggested she neared middle age. "Ambassador Tang."

"Call me Ling," the serious woman replied as she studied my body and ended up gazing at my face. I didn't see approval on her face, but she seemed to have cultivated that inscrutable thing Chinese have, fairly or unfairly, been accused of bearing, probably by Caucasians. Though I did get the slightest hint of disapproval. We shook hands across the table.

"May I sit beside you, Zhenzhen?" I asked the youngest angel. Her blush continued when she nodded. My wife sat across the table from me, and I introduced her to the Chinese contingent.

"Your ... wife?" asked Zhenzhen, her first words, heavily accented, shy and sweet.

"Don't worry," Helena chuckled. "I enjoy my husband's conquests almost as much as he does."

I cringed a little at this bold statement towards what appeared to be a delicate flower, but Zhenzhen's cute giggle and her verbal response of, "Oh my," removed my concern.

"She's a sexy creature, isn't she?" I said to the young cutie.

"Very," the teenager breathed.

Beside me, Xo laughed. "Perfect," he said.

I looked at him, and that anger at what I considered his repellant self-righteousness surged inside me. I took a breath before I asked him, "She's a virgin?"

"Does that not interest you?" he responded.

"Not especially. How can she still be a virgin?"

"She has been very busy training her mind," he explained, tapping the side of his forehead. "This has been what she needed."

"Not only that," I replied. "I know how lusty young angels can get."

"She must learn discipline, though I have rewarded her, the carrot rather than the stick as you Americans say."

"Not much of a carrot," the sweet angel actually smirked. "Rather more like a succulent plum," she winked at my wife.

"Zhenzhen," Xo roared.

She retreated into herself, but I caught the most subtle of winks towards my wife. "Sorry Master," she said.

"You become bold," he sighed.

"I have become horny," she daringly rejoined.

"Ah so," he shook his head, but a slight smile emerged. "You are not so fearful."

"Not so much," she smiled at Helena.

"But," I said, "Angels are famous for their rather thick hymen. Have you ever been penetrated, Zhenzhen?"

"What is he talking about, Master?" she asked.

"Fuck!" I allowed to explode from my mouth. "I thought you educated her."

"And I thought you were good at seduction," he frowned.

"You mean, she gets to be completely surprised by feeling as if a knife penetrated her cunt?"

"Joe," Helena interrupted, on the edge of scolding me.

"No, Helena," I said. "This is just another example of this ... eternal wanderer's supreme indifference to any hardship of his angels if it endangers his intentions." I so wanted to call him an asshole, but thought best not to anger a creature who could probably end my life with a flick of his pinky finger. At least not too much. "You understand your ... master wishes me to impregnate you as I have done with both Nick's and Simon's youngest angels."

"Yes," she said shyly. "And I am honored to be the first of his angels to do so." She said the last as if repeating from rote memory.

"Is that so?" I asked Xo. "You never, as Nick did and I'm almost certain Simon did, find out the consequences of impregnating an angel? You never succumbed to the temptation, however incestuous, of fucking a gorgeous, horny angel, who wanted you as desperately as you wanted her, especially before her menarche arrived? Perhaps you waited, as Nick did, to succumb later when she just couldn't stop her obsession for you. Relentlessness can be persuasive, especially considering how brilliant these angels all are. I know you regard wisdom above all other things except perhaps serenity. That you embrace both, and in fact could be regarded as epitomizing both makes you susceptible to something neither contain, self-righteousness. But be that as it may, does your wisdom condone speaking the truth, or does it make you wise enough to avoid it when it suits your purpose?"

"What is he talking about, Master?" asked Zhenzhen for the second time.

I could see his sadness penetrate his anger. "This has no consequence to you, Zhenzhen."

"Doesn't it?" I asked him.

"I can feel the vitality of your wife's embryo."

"That's only half of it, and you know it," I pointed out.

"I apologize," he said before, in a blur, a steak knife provided by the waitress (who had interrupted us at one point to take our orders, and another to place the steak knife) went from his hand into the fleshiest part of Helena's naked shoulder.

"Ouch. Fuck," she exclaimed, pulling it out. We watched as the bleeding stopped almost immediately, and the wound disappeared as if it had never been there. I somehow had enough clarity of mind to glance at Tash, sitting at the second table far enough from us not to hear our conversation. She did, however, manage to catch the proof of immortality. Her awe couldn't have been more obvious.

"Nice one, asshole," I growled.

"I'm fine," said my wife, "And it does prove what we thought."

"Maybe," I responded. "We have to see if that changes after you give birth. But," I gestured my head towards the second table, "it clued Tash into the same thing as well."

Helena shrugged. "It's about fucking time."

"You have someone here who does not know of our existence?" asked Xo in a tone full of condescension.

"Probably not anymore," I shrugged.

"Master..." Zhenzhen started.

"You have nothing to fear, sweet Zhenzhen," he placated.

"But..."

"Whatever consequences Joe might suggest, you do as I command."

"Yes Master," she bowed her head. "I am sorry."

The asshole just nodded.

Things at the second table became chaotic. I imagined the angels tried to delay any explanations, and Tash suggested what they could do with that delay. It didn't get any better when Nick arrived assisting Naomi as she swayed and gasped in his arm, her eyes wide and cloudy. The tall, gorgeous, sexy Jewess looked utterly wasted in a way that suggested hallucinogens.

"Naomi!" Tash shouted. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," her lover responded, her words slurred as if her mouth could not be controlled. "Absolutely nothing. You look absolutely radiant, my love."

Nick helped his angel into a seat beside Tash. Naomi clawed through her small purse, pulling out a small square of paper and then a napkin wrapped around a square object. Unwrapping it revealed what looked like a heaven cake, Amsterdam's version of a hash brownie. I figured that's exactly what it was.

"Come join me," said Naomi. "It's absolutely wonderful."

"Absolutely," Tash smirked and shrugged.

"Place the paper on your tongue and let it dissolve. Then eat the cake," Naomi explained with remarkable ease.

"I know about blotter acid," said Tash, popping it into her mouth.

After going blank, as did the rest of Nick's angels, Helena explained, "Simon will not be able to hurt her or use her as a spy. The LSD interrupts her synapsis, and her brain is too jumbled to allow his intrusion. The cannabis intensifies things while soothing somehow at the same time."

"But what about Tash's baby?" I asked her.

Another blank face ended with her assuring me, "It will not affect Nick's child detrimentally."

I couldn't help chuckling, "You mean it could actually help?"

Her shrug made me think Nick probably really didn't know one way or another. He looked concerned, but his attention didn't dwell on Naomi or Tash. Instead it looked inward. He sat at the last remaining seat, across the table from Xo.

"You must be Xo," he said.

"Nick," Xo nodded. "You look..."

"I know, like a man tapping at the door of mortality. Almost skull and bones already. You and Simon seem to have reached the apex of your racial beauty, and yet my appearance, I believe, speaks to the truth."

"A more obvious version perhaps," Xo nodded. "But I have heard you have not been like us in your transformations."

"True. I have been most all races, often in a mix, like when I was yours with a mix of India, like some Southeast Asians and Indonesians. Unlike you, I haven't worked towards racial perfection, which in your achievement and Simon's, have reached their ultimate form, n'est ce pas? I may look more like I've reached the end of the road, but in your way, you have too."

"Perhaps. But your look, it can't help spread your seed."

"Au contraire, my brother." He shifted his attention to Ling, who gazed at him with utter fascination. "You must be Ambassador Tang. It is an honor to meet you."

"Call me Ling," she purred. "And the pleasure's all mine. Why are you insulting this fascinating man, Grandfather?"

Xo chuckled. "Point taken."

"It seems women have a thing for rugged young men with evil intent," Nick smirked, "and a knowing, seductive smile. Are you married, beautiful Ling?"

"I left him in China for his whores," she muttered. "Grandfather thought him important. He is, I suppose, but not important for me as a woman."

"Impotent?"

"So far, but he hasn't exactly tried all that hard. Of course when he did try, I wasn't ready for a baby. When I was, he wasn't. He gets bored easily, and truth be told, he's a bore as well, and not nearly the lover he thinks he is."

"Are you still ready?"

"Yes."

"The child will look like you mostly."

"I don't care."

"How do you see Nick?" I asked Zhenzhen quietly.

"Old. Almost skeletal," she answered in kind.

.

We ate and chatted. Mostly Helena and I chatted with Zhenzhen. She turned out to be charming and witty, and I think my wife and I both started falling in love with her. Chanda joined us after we ate, learning about the Eternal Wanderer whom she had not known about until recently, despite being of his blood to some degree. Helena and I enjoyed that conversation as well, even when Xo added his slightly different or more in depth information which I thought had an air of condescension, but realized that conclusion had more to do with Zhenzhen's apparent slave-like passivity when receiving it. At one point I had a revelation. Her devotion to him had much more to do with deep respect and love, and he shared the same attitude towards her. He may have demanded obedience. Nick essentially didn't while still gaining his angels' complete devotion, except for Helen of course. But Xo's came from a different culture, one that respects age and wisdom and especially one's teacher or master, Sensei for the Japanese for instance. He expected her obeisance, and she expected it, too. It was essential to their relationship. Necessary. Not master and slave, but master and pupil, the young knowing the old has the answers, at least the important ones, and who would know more than an eternal wanderer even older than Nick? Definitely cultural, and wasn't it Western Culture's loss having youth rebel against their elders, and even be supported in that rebellion? Of course, it might also stifle creativity and the heedless, energetic, wild, daring activities of youngsters, who will not appreciate their mortality, at least in the deleterious consequences of an aging body and mind, for decades. Who knows? But it makes me wonder about the cliché, "Youth is wasted on the young". Why haven't the old fuckers that whine about it done something about it?

When Xo wasn't putting his two cents or thousand dollars in, he and Nick chatted, including Ling in the conversations. Too thrilled by Nick's presence, as well as being brilliant, she couldn't possibly be left out.

Her need for him actually encouraged the end of the evening at the café. She spoke to Xo in Mandarin, making him laugh. "It seems," he translated, "my granddaughter wishes for a more intimate setting."

This provoked finally revealing the elephant in the closet. "Perhaps we could continue this at a hotel," Nick suggested.

"Nonsense," Xo argued. "Neither Ling nor Zhenzhen would be comfortable."

"But..."

"I know. Simon has once again become troublesome for you."

"Perhaps for you as well. He is a bit of a megalomaniac."

Xo laughed. "I am not worried about his ridiculous desire to rule the world. The best he could do in regards to me is to find an ally. And believe me, I'm not interested. Asia is not interested. And with you I believe Africa is not interested, or much of the Americas or the Middle East or the Mediterranean, though he thinks he has influence in those places."

"I'm afraid it's no laughing matter, Xo. Of course the megalomania is ridiculous, but things are getting very specific against me and mine."

"I noticed Gia has become incommunicado," Xo nodded.

"Helen as well," said Nick. "And I believe I may have lost a most important minion."

"How unfortunate."

"Hopefully she's just unconscious. What about the ambassador's place?"

"The guard have noticed more frequent and more curious than usual passersby. What do they call that in American? Casing the joint? But I have Mei there."

"Your oldest?"

"Yes. And your oldest is there as well."

"Salomé."

"She's quite something."

"So is Mei. Okay. Let's go."

As they began heading out, Nick asked Xo, "If you can get into Gia's mind, can you do anything to stop her?"

"You think she's back to trying to assassinate you?"

"I wouldn't put it past Simon. He already sacrificed his supposed favorite with barely a twinge of regret. His Chinese angel? She may have been useful, but..."

"He really is a piece of work."

"Always has been."

When they exited the café, they paused before entering their limos. Three awaited us. "You want to join me?" Xo asked Nick.

"No. I'm heading back to the hotel to find out what happened and to confront Gia if she's there. Than I'm checking out and finding another hotel for us."

"What about Ling?"

"Oh shit. Sorry Ling. I've got a lot on my mind."

"So ... you don't want... ," the strong Chinese woman looked on the verge of tears.

"Of course I do." He leaned down and kissed her. She practically climbed his body embracing him. I noticed the shocked look of her Chinese limo driver before he turned his head away, his hand still holding the door open for her. Nick, ever powerful, climbed into her limo with her still in his arms. Xo entered the limo after, and another Chinese man I hadn't seen followed him in.

I sprinted up to the door before the chauffeur closed it. "Uhm Nick," I started.

"Zhenzhen will accompany you," Xo interrupted.

"That's good," I replied, "but Nick ... I could use some of your essence."

"Betty always has a stash," he said between kisses.

The door closed and when I turned, the third limo began driving away. I went to the middle one and found Zhenzhen cuddled against my wife.