Chapter 16: Love Is An Illusionist

Friday, July 28th, 2006, Boston Massachusettes

I wolf-whistled piercingly loud, “Everyone, listen up! Please come to the living room.”

I laughed as Billy tried to mimic me by putting his fingers in his mouth and blowing, but he only managed to slobber all over his hand and chin. He pulled his fingers out, grinned up at me, and giggled, his chubby cheeks looking way too cute as he did so.

“Again? Peease!” he gurgled.

I granted his request and whistled again, causing him to clap and shriek in delight. Two-year-olds were so easy to entertain.

“Again?!” he asked as he bounced happily.

“Okay, one more, and that’s all for now, little man,” I agreed, making one last shrill blast with two fingers and my mouth.

He shrieked, laughed hysterically, and then ran off while trying to do the same thing but only managed to get spit everywhere.

I flopped down onto one of the couches and sank into it; Presidential Suites were definitely the way to go. Everything was so damn comfortable.

I reflected on what had happened yesterday and this morning, and I couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off my face for more than just seeing Billy trying to copy me. I felt fantastic! I had just made love to my Mom and Sheila for what seemed like hours in the shower but was, in reality, one and a bit. God, it felt so good to cum in them, especially as I stared deep into their eyes when I climaxed. And I would never get tired of watching them eat each other after I finished either. They loved feasting upon my creampies; it made me want to fuck them all over again in some perpetually arousing, never-ending, circular cycle of horniness. My libido was through the roof. I merely had to think about sex, and bam—I was hard. A lovely side-effect of the Serpent ring was definitely the magical Viagara constantly pumping through my veins.

I’d been a bit worried that by exerting myself in the shower, that it might have left me feeling as bad as I had yesterday. Thankfully, I wasn’t even half as sore as I had been then, although I did still need to take some painkillers.

My grin got even bigger, thinking about how I’d bonded with Stacy and in a way that I never would have foreseen. It left me feeling satisfied on such a deep level that I couldn’t even understand the why or how of it. All I knew was that I loved the girl. I always kinda did, but only as a sister before—now I honestly couldn’t picture my life without her. I knew that it was weird to feel that way simply from a fuck, but it was more than that, maybe the magic did something, I dunno, but she was definitely Air, as I’d told Malachar. Perhaps a large part of my happiness was because I knew—without a doubt—who my five were now.

Then there was Maria—my sexy hot Tamale—she was healing! I felt so much relief at that because I did love her a lot, even though we’d broken up before, and the guilt for what I’d done to mess up her brain had been weighing heavily upon my psyche. She wouldn’t be part of my Hydra, though, but then again, neither would Angie or Violet, and I still wanted them to permanently stay with me as well. Thinking about Angie, I felt some satisfaction that I’d managed to make a little progress on moving that hate bar in the right direction. Once I figured out if it was safe to remove a day’s memories, I was confident that I could bond us together in a more loving way. I was in lust with the sexy thing, especially her tight ass.

Add in the fact that we now had the new Limo, plus Brock and the guys, and I felt like we’d made some real progress to getting ourselves a solid game plan. We’d make a pit stop at a hospital, and I’d pick us up a doctor, preferably a trauma surgeon. Then we’d grab whatever stuff Brock decided that Guards should have. Walkie-talkies, maybe, or those curly earplugs that the secret service agents always seem to have in their ears? I figure they’d need a way to communicate fast and effectively, and I doubted that having only cell phones would cut it.

Man, was I ever in a great mood! I know that getting laid releases endorphins, but it was so much more; I hadn’t felt this positive since before that awful day under the reservoir in Quebec city. I knew that having met Violet had a big part to do with it too, I was thrilled that she believed me now and was staying with us. I wanted her so badly, but I had a gut feeling that the chase was going to be a very long hunt, and I had no clue if I would even be successful.

What made me the happiest, though, was that today we’d finally be on our way to Washington DC to start researching anything that might lead us to the next ring or rings. I wanted the Hydra set; I knew that our survival meant finding it as soon as possible. Seeing as how Malachar had never had a host successfully do so, I was determined to be the first.

I looked up and beamed as the last of my girls made their way into the room: eight gorgeous women and a toddler that I adored—my family.

“Okay, so we’re out of here,” I said with a grin. “Brock, if you don’t mind, I could use your help loading the Limo. Girls, please put your packed bags in the foyer, and do a double-check to make sure that nothing’s getting left behind, you know, like phone chargers, iPods, panties, or whatever. I’ll grab the money bags,” I instructed.

“Or sex toys!” Abby piped in.

“Especially the sex toys! Can NEVER forget those,” Maria added with a titter.

I smiled warmly at her as she caught my eye; her answering smile and slight blush, was sweet and a bit shy. I guess that feeling a new depth of emotions had her traveling down an unfamiliar path. Gone was the extroverted, bossy, in-charge type of girl that I’d known and dated for eleven months. A new Maria was emerging—the real Maria—one that wasn’t hiding behind a false front of bravado and sexuality. I was highly encouraged by her changes, just seeing her contributing to a group conversation, let alone being humorous, was so bloody promising. It meant that Malachar was right, that she was slowly repairing the damage that I’d done to her brain and fixing the black hole that was inside her, which had been caused by years of sexual abuse.

“It’d be easiest to grab an elevator and hold it. That way, we can load everything into it all in one shot and then go straight to the parking garage—that’s where the Limo is, Boss. Parking level one,” Brock helpfully informed me.

“Okay, let’s do that then,” I agreed.

“Hustle up, please. I’m itching to get going,” I quipped.

“Hey, Hot Stuff—they have a cream for that!” Abby quipped from over her shoulder as she left the room, causing everyone to laugh.

With their good-natured laughter and camaraderie, the girls all went about their business of getting everything sorted while I gathered up my stuff. I realized that I’d forgotten to dole out the laptops again, so I figured that I’d just do so in the Limo. I didn’t feel like causing a delay at this point, not even a small one. We all wanted to get the fuck out of Boston, well, except for maybe Angie.

I can feel your happiness brimming over into your subconscious. I’m excited over the progress you’ve made in the last couple of days, m’boy. How are you feeling so far—pain-wise, I mean? I meant to ask when you woke up, but you distracted me with that scintillating romp you had in the shower with your mother and Sheila. However, it distinctly lacked any anal activities, so I can only rate it a seven out of ten on the excitement scale.

<Oh?> I laughed in my head. <Seven only, huh? Well, I gave it a standing oration myself as I found it to be quite stimulating.>

Yes, seven, and that’s only because of the kink factor of cumming inside of your own mother while staring into her eyes as you French kissed her—that was hot. The taboo factor garnered you some extra points; otherwise, it was a ho-hum affair. Standard oral sex, kissy-kissy, licky-licky, some sucky-sucky, and then fucky-fucky with some creamy snatch eating. Oh, and you weren’t standing; you were crouching. Now, if you had of assfucked one or both of them and then they ATE that creamy love-hole out, well, I would have probably rated it a nine.

<You crack me up. Kissy-kissy? Fucky-fucky? Where the fuck do you find these things?>

In your juvenile memories of what you call High School, your friend Matt seemed to be obsessed with mimicking a highly exaggerated Chinese voice for a while. I found some of it to be a bit amusing.

<Figures. You know what? Sum ting wong wit you head, Mawachar!> I laughed, doing my best silly Chinese accent.

See, amusing!

“And that’s everything, Boss. We’re finally done!” Brock declared as he stowed the last of the girls’ bags in what passed for a trunk on our newest vehicle and closed the door.

“Who knew how much shit a handful of women could accumulate in just a couple of days! So should we bother pulling the Limo out front, you think? Or should we all just take the elevator back down and leave from here? What would be easier for you, Python, my man?” I asked as we locked up the monstrous bus.

“It’d be much easier coming back down, if you don’t mind, Boss,” he said, shrugging his massive shoulders. “It’s a bit tight maneuvering it between the columns to get into the drop-off pick-up lane out front, but I can do it again if you want. At least the overhead clearance isn’t too bad if I do.”

“Nah, coming back down will be fine,” I replied as we pressed the button for the elevator to bring us back upstairs.

Lucky for us, no one had called for it, and it opened right away. We rode up the one floor in silence. I was contemplating what would be smarter to do first, get a Doctor onboard, or quickly do any shopping that Brock wanted done to outfit his team. I’d wait to ask him after the other guys arrived, figuring that the other three might have some input as well; they should be here in about twenty minutes from now.

We stepped out into the corridor that ran from the elevator bay to the main lobby; we were meeting the girls at the front desk so that we could check out. The whole area was shaped like a big ell, with the main lobby running perpendicular to the hallway, which was at the opposite end to where we were standing now. Immediately to our right was the entrance to another smaller lobby, which held a fancy extra-wide marble staircase with black carpeting that ran in a swath up the middle. That led upstairs to the various Hotel conference rooms and meeting areas, plus to the first-floor private rooms as well. At the opposite end of that lobby was the restaurant; unfortunately, we hadn’t had the chance to dine inside of it, but the food that we’d ordered up for room service had been fantastic.

We turned left from the elevator, heading towards the main entrance and check-out desk. I hadn’t really seen much of this area in the daylight, but looking at it now, with all of its floor-to-ceiling glass windows on my right and the rich-looking black marble-tiled floor with a gold hexagonal accent pattern—it was quite beautiful. It was a pretty large hallway, almost a mini-lobby in itself. You could easily drive two golf carts down it, going in both directions at once. The crystal chandeliers that hung in a row above us must have cost a mint.

We made our way forward, our shoes echoing off the expensive floor. There were four comfortable-looking, grey suede couches lined up against the wall in a big alcove facing the windows; above them were large paintings depicting famous Bostonian landscapes. In the corners of the hallway, where it met the larger spaces at either end, were four roughly three-foot-high, heavy-looking planters with some sort of evergreen growing in them. In the middle of the twenty-foot wide or so area were two glass and brass display cases, both holding what looked to be expensive jewelry—it was an advert for People’s Jeweler’s, no less.

We traversed the corridor, which was roughly fifty feet long, and paused where it ended at the mouth of the main lobby area, quickly scanning around for the girls. Facing us, about thirty feet away, was the concierge and porters’ desk. They had a station with expensive-looking luggage carts and a couple of bellhops that were on standby to aid any guests who were checking in with their baggage. I waved at the friendly head concierge, who I hadn’t seen before but who had just nodded politely at us. To our right was the over-sized main entrance revolving door, which was flanked by two porter doors; it was all brass-colored metal with thick, immaculately clean glass panes.

I watched as a porter moved through the far door; he was struggling with his overloaded cart and accidentally dropped a suitcase. A rather large woman, who looked to be in her early thirty’s, promptly started yelling at him. He profusely apologized while finally managing to get the cart through the doors.

To our left, about fifty feet away, was the main reception desk. It was either walnut or mahogany, I think. Regardless, it was quite ornate and well polished for its whole gleaming length of approximately twenty some odd feet.

My girls were clustered there in three small groups near the left end of the counter. Abby, Heather, and Stacy were standing near the wall, next to a potted plant, talking animatedly amongst themselves and giggling loudly while Maria, Angie, and Violet were quietly chatting about five feet away. Billy was sitting at Maria’s feet, pushing one of his toy race cars. Sheila and Kelly were standing at the counter, talking to what appeared to be one of the Hotel managers.

I heard the fat woman behind me as she began to drone on about possibly suing the Hotel if anything in her suitcase had been damaged—I tuned her out and started towards my girls. I wrinkled my nose as her perfume wafted its way over to me. She must have bathed in it—it smelled disgusting, and she was over ten feet away!

I saw a couple of policemen standing against the wall to my right, about halfway between me and the reception desk. They were drinking coffee from styrofoam cups while casually observing the room. I imagined they were there as part of the investigation into the murder of Marv and his wife. Hopefully, they weren’t like their buddies from last night, or they’d be joining them for a special clandestine police operation shortly if they were.

Three distinguished-looking middle-aged businessmen wearing impeccable suits with polished leather shoes were at the check-in section of the counter chatting with the pretty blonde clerk that I’d noticed the night that we’d first arrived. She had a great-looking ass and pretty blue eyes to go with a killer smile. I wistfully wondered what it would have been like to fill all of her holes, as Malachar had suggested.

I was busy checking her out when I noticed movement from just behind me on my right. I had barely caught it at the edge of my vision. I glanced over and saw an extraordinarily tall man that I hadn’t noticed before. He was walking briskly towards me from about thirty feet away. He had to have been at least six-foot-ten. He had sharp black brows, a handlebar mustache, and was quite pale. What struck me as odd were his clothes; he was wearing an old-fashioned tweed suit and a top hat complete with black polished wing-tip shoes and a silver embossed cane. I was getting a strange vibe—he looked like he’d just stepped out of one of those old Ringling Bros circus ads from the 1920s or whenever.

As I tilted my head, puzzling a bit over his appearance—I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Violet had turned to stare at him with a curious expression as well. I stopped as he continued to approach me, wondering what he wanted; at the same time, I mentally prepared myself to use my magic. If he turned out to be someone that the mob had sent like they did the cops from last night, he was in for a world of hurt.

He stretched out his hand as if he wanted to greet me with a friendly shake, which was weird since he was still almost thirty feet away from me. As I waited for him to get closer, something seemed really off about him all of a sudden. His image flickered, and for a very brief moment, I saw something else other than the tall man that was approaching me. I saw a bald, roughly five-foot-eight-or-nine, skinny creature wearing a dull purple robe with brown leather thong sandals, who was carrying a wooden walking stick in one hand.

I say creature because he had two sharp canine-like tusks sticking out from his bottom lip by about two inches and almond-shaped eyes that were twice as big as a regular person’s, plus his skin was a weird yellowy color almost sickly looking. Whatever it was, they were definitely NOT Human.

It was just a flash before he appeared to look just as he did before, like a super tall man from the 1920s. I backed up, trying to maintain the distance between us instinctively. His image flickered for a second time, akin to a television channel when it got its signals crossed, and again I saw the skinny Human-like thing striding towards me. It looked like he was mumbling something underneath his breath—I could see its thin purplish-brown lips moving.

<What the fuck is that!?>

FUCK! It’s one of the Takilvoid! He’s an Illusionist assassin! Whatever you do, do NOT let him maintain a line of sight! Flee! Now! MOVE, JAKE, MOVE!

I felt his fear as Malachar’s alarm flooded instantly throughout my brain.

<ILLUSIONIST?> I yelled back, a bit panicked myself now because of the tone of his voice.

Yes, they are a type of sorcerer, except they cast illusions! RUN!

<Okay? But if that’s the case, then how can they hurt me? Wouldn’t whatever he cast just pass through me, or couldn’t I just go right through it? Like if he created a fake wall or something?> I asked him, really puzzled now because I couldn’t understand the threat.

MOVE YOU, FOOL! MOVE!

Once I realized that Malachar was still shouting in my head, it snapped me into action. I immediately understood that the girls were in danger. I had to make sure that they were safe before I ran anywhere.

“Brock, get the girls out of here! Now!” I hissed at him with urgency, using my magic on him, not wanting to take any chances. “And stay away from that tall guy coming at us! He’s an enemy! Now go, go, go!”

Tingle.

I started backing up, getting ready to defend them and myself, as Brock sprinted towards my family, shouting out for them to follow him quickly. His actions startled everyone as conversations were paused mid-word, and heads turned to stare. My girls all looked over at him, puzzled. Both cops stood a little straighter—getting ready for trouble most likely.

I kept my eye on the Illusionist while scanning the area for something that I could use as a weapon—stupidly, I’d left all of our guns in the Limo. I was feeling exceedingly dumb about that, and I was more than a bit disconcerted by how his image kept flickering back and forth between reality and magic. It was then that I realized that he hadn’t been extending his hand for a handshake. He was pointing it somewhere behind me.

Now that I was staring at him hard, his illusion broke down further; it was no longer flipping back and forth—I could see both images at once. His illusion was gauzy, and it seemed more like a hologram that was being projected over the top of him somehow.

He shouted something that I couldn’t understand and made some sort of a symbol with his extended hand.

“Holy shit! A wall!? How in the Hell?!” Brocks’s voice yelled out in shock.

“Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from?” Heather squeaked.

“W-what the...” a male voice stammered in shock.

I heard various screams and shouts of confusion from some very startled people behind me and rapidly spun around to look. There was a stone wall covering the whole back area behind the reception desk, from floor to ceiling. It was blocking the two doors that led to employee-only sections. I could see through it, but it seemed as if no one else could as everyone was just staring at it in stupefied shock. Now the only way out of the lobby was back the way that I’d just come from, where you could go straight through the doors leading outside, or you could turn right and go down the hallway.

One young-looking clerk—who must have just come through the doorway when my back was turned—reached out to touch it. I heard him exclaim that it was real, his voice sounding scared, puzzled, and in awe all at the same time. A couple of the businessmen and the manager also started to cautiously make their way over to it as if they were going to try touching it and examining it as well.

“Everyone, follow Brock and get to the Limo!” I yelled as I sprinted towards the nearest potted plant.

<I thought you said this guy was an illusionist!? His wall is solid to them!>

Yes! A master illusionist’s spells affect all senses; that’s what makes them so deadly! He could throw a fireball at them, and they’d all burn just as if he’d cast a real one! Their minds believe it, so in effect, it becomes real to them! Your family is in very serious danger!

<Holy fuck, nuggets! I’ve got to distract him away from them! Do you think his illusions can affect me? I’m seeing through them pretty much!>

I really don’t know! You shouldn’t be able to see through them just because of the ring, even if it was powerful enough to do so, which it isn’t! Normally, it’d take a while even if it could, which it can’t!

<What if I made them all close their eyes? If they can’t see his illusions, maybe they won’t work!> I thought to Malachar desperately as visions of my loved ones being burnt to a crisp flooded my horrified brain.

It doesn’t work that way! His spells affect all senses, not just the five basic ones that you know about; there a multitude of them that are constantly active. He could kill a blind person, just the same as one with sight. NOW MOVE!

I skidded to a stop next to the pot; it was three-feet high, about a foot and a half around, and had a small two and a half foot tree in it. It was about to become a missile. I activated a charge from Delilah’s Tears as I picked it up and chucked it straight at the guy’s head. My action startled the shit of him, and he instantly threw himself to the side and rolled, which didn’t look so easy to do in the robe that he was wearing.

My roughly three hundred pound make-shift baseball sailed through the air where he’d been standing and crashed straight through the plate glass window that was behind the concierge’s desk over forty feet away. I heard another loud crunching sound as it obviously hit something metal, most likely a car, because of the now constant horn sounding off. I couldn’t be sure because I couldn’t see where it had ended up once it went past the bushes outside, though. Shit, I hope that I hadn’t inadvertently hurt or killed someone!

<Yeah, but I broke through K’hrag’s mind control spell pretty fast. Wouldn’t it be the same thing?> I asked, truly mystified.

No, not even close. First of all, that mind control spell was of middling strength, and these spells are way more potent by far. It’s his specialty, all he does is cast illusions! Even a fully trained mage would find it hard to see through all but the weakest of his spells. I need to think more about this, but first—you need to live!

I tracked the weird skinny Illusionist’s movements and had to give my head a shake as he seemed to roll over and split himself into a dozen exact copies of himself. It was very unsettling watching them all roll out of one body only to pop into existence in twelve different spots at once. It almost made my brain hurt to see it. There was no blurring this time. Now he just looked like his true self; the tall circus freak image was gone.

<What the fuck! Those don’t look like illusions! I can’t see through them!> I exclaimed worriedly, seeing as how my adversary had suddenly just improved his odds by over ten-fold.

That’s because they aren’t. They’re doppelgangers; it’s not an Illusionist spell. He must have invoked an artifact or used a scroll of some sort. When they take damage, they vanish; he can be in any one of them until there are none left, and he can switch places at will.

Everyone around me was yelling now. I tuned them out, but most of the comments were about the twelve identical alien-monk-looking guys that had suddenly appeared in our midst, although a few mentioned how I’d pitched the vase as if it weighed nothing. People started clamoring in fear and confusion. I noticed the cops pulling their guns as their heads swiveled around wildly.

I saw another pot ten feet in front of me next to the wall and ran to it. Maybe I could bowl it at him (them).

“JJ, what’s happening!? Holy shit, that guy just turned into a gazillion of the same people?” Heather shouted. “He’s got fangs!” she exclaimed with a startled shout.

“¡Oh Dios mío! Mierda! ¡Qué clase de brujería malvada es esta!” Maria gasped as she ran past me, carrying Billy clutched to her chest. She stared terrified at the now dozen sickly yellow humanoids, wearing purple robes, that had suddenly appeared while scrambling to their feet.

“Go, go, go!” Brock yelled, staying calm despite the circumstances as he was doing his best to start herding them back towards the hallway. “Follow Maria now! Get to the elevators, and if you can—hold the doors! If you think that you’re in any immediate danger, then go down to the first garage level!” he bellowed while waving his arms at them as if he was directing traffic.

“Run, Maria, run! Get my Billy to safety!” Sheila screamed as she went to grab my mother by the hand. “Kell!” she shouted.

My mother was standing in complete shock, still staring at the wall, and Sheila was trying to snap her out of it.

Abby had corralled both Heather and Stacy and had one of the Sig Sauer p226’s in her hand. At least she’d been smart enough to be armed.

“Move it, follow Maria, go,” she shouted as she slapped both of their stunned asses, in turn, to get them going.

Both teens sprinted into action, darting after Maria.

I turned my head back towards my enemy(s) and saw them all start to mumble something again while making a series of complicated hand gestures. Each copy was an exact duplicate of the original, and their movements were all precisely the same. They were standing approximately five feet apart from each other in a loose oval configuration. Behind the now dozen Illusionists, the rude fat lady was screaming shrilly, and the concierge was yelling at the two bellhops to hide behind the desk. Both cops had pulled their guns and were looking wildly about, pointing them at the various alien-looking guys that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Great, that’s the last thing that I needed, two panicked cops blasting away at everyone.

I picked up the potted plant. It was identical to the last one; this time, I tossed it like a discus throw, spinning in a circle just as we used to do in gym class. I released it with a bellow of rage and watched as it flew low through the air, staying at waist height. Before the Takilvoid or whatever it was could even think about dodging, it bowled right through three of them, and they instantly poofed out of existence at the contact.

This time the sound was even louder as the cement pot shattered like a bomb against the paneled marble wall between the cops and the concierge desk. Shrapnel flew everywhere, and I instantly felt terrible as I heard one of the policemen and the fat lady cry out in pain. A large slab fell off the wall and shattered as well, exposing the metal studs, insulation, and wires hidden behind the facade. A hole of about five feet in diameter had been punched right through the structure as well, letting daylight in, and the surviving marble tile had cracked like ice for over fifteen feet around the point of impact.

<Damn! Throwing three-hundred-pound pots with the strength of Samson is no fucking joke!>

Watch out for the police!

I saw in my peripheral vision one of the cops swing his gun to aim at me. I guess being able to throw over-sized pottery around like tennis balls was considered threatening.

“Freeze!” I thundered at him.

Tingle.

“You too!” I shouted at his companion.

Tingle.

Both cops froze stiff as if we were playing some absurd version of Simon says. I didn’t have time to dwell on them; things were happening way too fast around me. Maria had just skidded around the corner, Stacy and Heather were about five feet behind her, and I was smack in between them and Brock, who was ten feet to my left. Violet and Angie had grabbed hands and were running to catch up. Angie was cursing up a storm, but I could only catch the odd swear word. I think most of it was in Italian. They were just passing Brock, so I turned to look back at the assassin(s).

Abby was aiming her gun at one of the purple-robed bastard’s freaks. She fired, and it disappeared, then she sprinted to stand about halfway between Mom and me, swiveling her head, wanting to protect everyone.