Chapter 8: Bonds

1.

Sunday, October 10
Savannah International Airport
Savannah, Georgia

Chris and Kelly got an early start. They left before six o'clock, after calling to confirm that the Savannah airport was partially functional, and they could go to Chris' plane. Kelly wasn't at all sure where Joshua was, but the link between them led her to believe that her lover had been taken south.

Chris consulted a map of the Eastern United States. He suggested to Kelly that they fly to Jacksonville, Florida, and take their bearings there. Then they would go in whatever direction Kelly indicated. The Irish lad admitted that is was not a very good plan, but due to a lack of information, and their limited search capability, it was the best he thought they might come up with. Kelly agreed to the plan. The crew was staying at a nearby hotel, and Chris called them to return to the plane and prepare for departure.

When Sean Dolan arrived at the Gulfstream II, he had expected that they would be going home. He found the boy and a girl he didn't recognize in the main cabin. They were bent over the largest table, examining a map of the Southeastern United States. The blond youth turned as Sean came aboard.

"Good mornin', Captain," the boy said. His cheerful demeanor was gone, and he seemed impatient. "Make preparations tah fly tah Jacksonville International Airport. Be quick, t'is an urgent matter."

"Oh? An urgent matter is it?" the pilot asked. He had been given little notice to be ready to fly three days earlier. He missed his family, as did Mrs. MacIvers. Danny Cochran didn't have a family, but he was anxious to get home as well. Dolan also had no doubt that the company would need their plane back by now. "I don't know what is going on here, but I will need authorization from the company before this plane leaves for any destination but Ireland. I'll also need to inform the company that you are bringing this stranger, and seem to be planning to abandon Ms. Donnelly."

Kelly sensed the change in Chris. She was not connected to him in the way she was connected to Joshua, but Kelly figured that any sorceress on the plane would have detected the arctic chill in Chris' aura. Kelly jumped between Chris and the Captain.

"He's not your enemy, Chris," she reasoned. "He just doesn't know what's happened. He doesn't understand." Chris' dark side was a hair's breadth from control. Despite his long centuries of learning self-control, Chris felt himself weakening. I want tah lose control, he thought. I want tah kill and destroy. I want tah give my anger reign, but I must not. Not until the time and target are right.

"Ye don't understand, Captain Dolan?" Chris asked angrily. "Ellen Donnelly is dead. For now, her mortal remains are in the custody o' the authorities. I've made arrangements tah have her body sent home when they are done with it. Call the main office, an' tell them what ye please. They will tell ye tah obey my every order as ye'd obey the founder o' the company."

The young woman rushing to his defense would have amused Sean Dolan under different circumstances, but he could see death in the Howell boy's eyes and feel it in the very air. With the way the lad had shown concern when the Donnelly woman fainted, the way his demeanor had gone from Cheerful when they had left Ireland to threatening now, and the mention of the authorities having Ms. Donnelly's body; it didn't take a huge leap of intuition to understand that she had been murdered. You're after the killer, aren't you? Sean thought.

The idea of two teenagers hunting a killer would have seemed absurd an hour before. Now Sean Dolan wasn't so sure. He wasn't a superstitious man. Sean had never believed in the Fair Folk, but now he wondered. I pity the murderer, Dolan thought, as he went to call the main office.

Joshua was back on the familiar mountaintop again. Below was the small village where the memories of his forebears could be found. He stepped forward, into the air. Joshua did not fall. Instead the wind seemed to carry him gently to earth. It was as if he was gliding on the air currents, but without a glider. When Joshua landed, his ancestors came forward to stand around him.

"Welcome back," said the memory of his father.

"Thank you, Father," Joshua replied, though he was a bit uneasy. "How am I back? Have I done something wrong?" The memories smiled warmly.

"You've done nothing wrong, Joshua," The memory of Charlie Hawkins said. "You are here because you are injured and weakened."

"I was injured the last time I was here," Joshua remembered. "Did you heal me that time? Is that why I'm here now?"

"Yes and no, Joshua. Your acceptance of your true nature saved you. We are a part of your true nature. Your subconscious mind associates this place with your recovery. That is the reason you return here now."

"So... when I wake up, I'll be alright?"

"Yes," the memory of Charlie answered.

"Well, while I'm here, can I ask some questions?"

"Of course you may. We will provide any answers we can."

"Okay, to start, why are there so few of us? I mean we are all sex-crazed, right?"

"Oh, yes. As you already know, we exist to fight, have sex, and obey the one who speaks our secret name. When Khartshma made us, she intended that we have no choice but reproduce rapidly, so that she could raise a great army of us. She remembered to specify that we constantly crave sex, and that our males could only orgasm within a vagina, while our females could only orgasm with a penis inside of them. She even thought of making us unable to use the birth control methods of the time. However, Khartshma forgot one small detail. She failed to specify just how fertile we were to be. Magic, like any natural force, will follow the path of least resistance when it can. The shadow creatures that made up half of our life essence can't reproduce sexually. The humans who made up the other half can reproduce very well indeed. The spell Khartshma wove went for a middle ground. The result is that we are nearly infertile."

"I see," Joshua said. A part of him was relieved. With all of the sex he had been having, the teen was worried that he might become a father when he really wasn't prepared to. Another part of Joshua was concerned that Kelly might want children later. This news made it seem very unlikely that he would be able to get her pregnant. "If I do get someone pregnant, will my child be like us?"

"Yes," the memory of Joshua's father answered. "Any child with a Hetsiuib parent will always be a Hetsiuib." Joshua frowned at the news.

"So, my children will be doomed to live as I do. They will affect the emotions of those around them, even if they don't wish to. They will always be in danger of killing or badly injuring any human that annoys them, and Sorcerers will seek to enslave them."

"That's about the size of it," the memory agreed. "If knowledge of the secret names can be eliminated, we can be rid of the last part of that, but nothing is going to change the rest. We were created to be dangerous, and dangerous we will always be. It's a hard life, but everyone's life is hard. We gain as much as we lose due to our nature. Most people cannot say that. We don't age, and we are nearly indestructible. There are worse legacies to give a child."

The words were spoken kindly, but there was a core of hardness in them. Joshua could no more alter his nature than he could alter the pattern of stars in the sky. It was not his place to worry about the life he didn't have, but to make something of the one he had.

"I understand, Father," Joshua said.

2.

Drake's Island, Florida

Amy Ward sat on her cot, her breakfast getting cold in front of her. This was her second morning in this cell. It was fairly comfortable, with a relatively nice cot, a folding tray for her meals, and a new-looking sink and toilet. There was no privacy, but the young woman who brought her meals didn't seem too concerned about body modesty. Amy figured that if the people holding her prisoner were going to walk around bare-chested, then she could handle the lack of privacy.

The same young woman brought all of Amy's meals so far, but she hadn't said a word. Amy hadn't seen her Aunt Wilma in that time either. The food was mainly fish and rice. It was plentiful, and tasted good, but Amy had little appetite. Her worry for Aunt Wilma and Blake robbed her of it.

As Amy pondered her position, and worried about her loved ones, the young woman returned. She noted that Amy hadn't eaten her breakfast. Her expression became pinched with concern.

"You need to eat, Miss," the improbable jailer said. Amy was surprised to hear her speak after a whole day of silence.

"I can't eat. I'm worried about my Aunt Wilma. She was kidnapped with me, and I haven't seen her since. I'm also worried about my brother and the rest of my family."

"The old woman you came with is in another cage, here in the menagerie. She isn't feeling too well, but we are takin' care of her." The half-naked young woman's expression brightened a bit as she shared her next piece of news. "Your brother is here as well, in the next cage. The Master says that he is well. Oh, Miss, I'm sure the Master will let you be with your brother soon. Eat to keep up your strength for the lovemakin' y'all will share. Surely things will seem better when you are in your brother's arms again."

"Lovemaking?" Amy gasped, "With my brother?" The young jailer misunderstood Amy's shocked tone.

"You see? The Master is gracious and kind. He could'a brought your father or a cousin to be your lover. He could'a chose not to provide you with a lover at all, but what bed partner can be better'n your own brother? Who can know you better'n one you grew up with?" The young woman smiled wider still. "I understand the happiness you're feelin', Miss. My brother and I have shared a bed since his twelfth birthday. I've never had a better lover."

Amy struggled against her shock. Incest must be common here! What sort of people have kidnapped us, and what do they want?

"Why have you kidnapped us?"

"The Master has no need to tell his humble servants of his plans, Miss. But he surely does place a special value on your handsome, black-haired brother and you."

So, it's Joshua that they kidnapped. At least they didn't drag Blake out of the hospital, Amy thought. What can they want with us?

Niflheim, Realm of the Norse Gods

Loki was donning his armor when his scout returned.

"What news of the enemy?" Loki asked, with a confident grin on his face.

"The elves have withdrawn from their position outside the gates of Niflheim, my Lord," the scout reported, kneeling before his master.

"Of course," the God of Fire sneered. "They are no match for the combination of my forces and those of my allies. They will run and hide in their caves in the Great Chasm, and we will dig them out and kill them."

"My lord, they do not retreat in the direction of the Great Chasm," the demon reported, perplexed. "Their tracks lead toward the major root of Yggdrasil." Loki's smile turned suddenly into a grimace. "Are you sure? Could the Dokalfar have deceived you?" Loki snapped

"No, my Lord. All tracks lead toward the root. Even the heavy wagons went that way!"

"Heavy wagons? They run for their lives, and they do not abandon their wagons?" It made little sense to Loki, but then, a thought occurred that whipped the god into an even greater rage than he had felt at the attempted assassination. "They run to Yggdrasil because they mean to use it to escape! They are fleeing to Asgard! Hoder means to take refuge with his father. He thinks that I will not dare to follow, but he is wrong! We will catch Hoder before he gets there. The major root is the portal my allies will use to arrive. The Dokalfar will be caught between our armies and crushed!"

"But what if Hoder makes it to Asgard, my Lord?" the scout asked.

"The burdened wagons you mentioned will slow our enemy down, so they will not." Loki's expression became murderous. "But if they do, they will find no refuge. Asgard will burn and all those proud gods will die!"

Cairo, Egypt

Less than a week before, Konstantin Orlov had been in command of an entire KGB directorate. Now, his domain had shrunk to include forty-nine agents, three demons and thirty-two gifted children. Olga Sverdlova and Nefer had been the last two survivors of the Twenty-Seventh Secret Directorate to arrive. They had brought all the salvageable items that had remained in Baba Yaga, and the news that no one else was coming.

Olga was one of the directorate's best field agents, and her work produced one last prize for the State. She had learned one of the secret names of the Hetsiuib. Orlov knew that the Hetsiuib would make strong weapons in the effort to reclaim the Soviet Union from the traitors.

Before he could plan the offensive to reclaim the Motherland, Orlov needed to secure their base of operations. Egypt would not wish to sever its ties to the Soviet Union. If the reactionaries learned that Orlov and his followers were hiding in Egypt, they could demand that the Egyptians hand them over.

Orlov knew that there were certain people and factions who would like more power in Egypt. The survivors of Directorate Twenty-Seven could help them gain that power, but in such a way as to make them dependent on Orlov's aid. Then, their position would be secure.

Divinations were under way to find the most likely allies among the Egyptian officials. Once these men were identified, Lieutenant Colonel Sverdlova would begin to cultivate them. She had proven quite skilled in getting whatever the State needed from capitalist sorcerers. Konstantin had no doubt that she would prove just as successful here.

Having taken stock of his remaining living resources, Director Orlov went to see what equipment and artifacts Lieutenant Colonel Sverdlova had added to his arsenal. The power-focusing crystals would prove useful, though there was no teleportation chamber in Egypt. The dagger that could cut through anything was just a curiosity, but a means to replicate the metal it was made of might yet be found. The iron box that imprisoned the greatest blunder of Nazi sorcery was not a welcome addition, but Olga had been wise to bring it. Konstantin doubted that even the blast generated by the elemental furnace could have destroyed the horror within. It would have certainly destroyed the iron box, and freed the thing that so many died to trap.

The last enigma that Olga had saved was the box of death's head rings. The death's head ring was awarded to the best of Himmler's SS. If the wearer of the ring died or left the SS for any reason, the ring had to be returned. The SS made heroic efforts to recover the rings of their fallen comrades. Only a few were ever captured by the allies. The rest were taken to a special shrine in Wewelsburg Castle. Before the place could be overrun, Himmler had the rings removed and hidden.

Beyond the fact that the rings radiated strong magic, Directorate Twenty-Seven had never been able to figure out anything about them. When Director Orlov opened the ring box, he found that one was missing. A small card indicated that it had been removed for research purposes. No doubt it was destroyed in the explosion, Konstantin thought. Even if it fell into enemy hands, they will never be able to make use of it. Even after nearly forty years, the Directorate never learned how to make them work, how could those fools succeed?

3.

Taylorville, South Carolina

Henry had spent all of Saturday with Sara. During their walk after breakfast, he had finally asked about her sudden change. Sara had told him that Joshua had altered her personality.

The young man had become upset at this news. For one thing, Joshua was his friend. Henry didn't want him to be corrupted by his power. For another, Henry found that he cared about Sara and feared for her safety.

The power of his emotional reaction had surprised Henry, just as the power of his physical reaction to Sara's kisses. Sara had quickly assured Henry that her transformation had been a lucky accident. Joshua had wanted to find a way to reverse it, but she had wanted to keep her new personality.

"I never knew how empty my old life was," she had told Henry. "I can finally understand other people. I can finally care about other people. I can love." There had been a look in Sara's eyes and an inflection in her tone as she said the last that made Henry's heart skip a beat. The skinny youth was attracted to Sara. The way she had begun to act led Henry to the conclusion that the attraction was mutual.

I never thought she could be attracted to me. For five years, we had our dislike for each other and my unreasonable attraction to her. Now, after three days with the new Sara, I'm wondering if we could ever love each other. Henry couldn't bring himself to believe such a thing possible. She's still rich, beautiful, and popular. I'm still poor, skinny, and a nerd. There'll never be anything between us.

Henry's certainty of the order of the world couldn't fully extinguish the spark of hope in his soul. I'll be her friend, if nothing else. I'll see where that path takes me.

There was only one government car in the driveway when Henry arrived at the Ward home. He had little doubt that the rest of the agents were out working on the case. The captured kidnapper had apparently been very co-operative with his interrogators. Henry prayed that Joshua, Amy, and their aunt would be returned safely. Though he was not normally a violent person, Henry also prayed that the kidnappers would suffer for their crime.

Henry stood his bike where it wouldn't be in the way. Then he walked to the front door. Before he got there, the door flew open and Sara Ward hurried out to greet him.

"Henry!" she said with a smile. "It's so good to see you again!"

Sara seemed happy to see him, but Henry could tell by the red around her eyes that she had been recently crying. Sara threw her arms around Henry in a warm, wonderful hug. The boy brought his arms up and returned the hug. It felt so wonderfully right to be holding Sara in his arms. In fact, it felt a bit too wonderful, and Henry shifted his lower body to keep Sara from feeling his stiffening cock pressed against her. He couldn't help but imagine Sara, naked and willing. Get a grip, Henry told himself, harshly. Sara's life has been turned upside down. She doesn't need some silly nerd trying to get into her pants. Besides, if she wanted sex, she has every boy at school to pick from. I wouldn't be at the top of that list.

For two days, Henry had been there for Sara. Her family couldn't be there. Her Stepmother was trying, but she was hit harder than Sara by the events of Friday afternoon. Her so-called friends couldn't be bothered. A few boys had called to see if she felt like a quick rendezvous at her secret love nest, but that was about it.

Now, for a third day, Henry returned. Holding him in her arms and feeling his answering embrace gave Sara a feeling of rightness and belonging that she had previously found only with Joshua. Sara felt the shift in Henry's posture, and noticed a semi-hard something in the front of his jeans brush past her. The experienced young woman knew what it was.

Sara felt her body react. Moisture flooded her pussy, and thoughts of fucking Henry flooded her mind. Our bodies know what they want, at least, Sara thought.

"We better get inside before you catch a chill, Sara," Henry said when he noticed that the girl hadn't bothered to put on a coat before coming out. The two teens hurried back into the house.

Miss Flowers fixed hot chocolate for Sara and Henry. The two youngsters sat in the formal dining room, since the FBI wasn't using it and no one else had need of the room. They drank their cocoa in silence for a while. No words were necessary, and the teens simply enjoyed one another's company. Finally, Sara spoke.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked.

"Well, I thought we could get our homework done. My books are out on my bike. Studying is easier if you don't have to study alone," Henry blurted nervously. Sara could have pointed out that she was a senior and Henry was a junior, so they had different classes and different homework. She didn't however. We do need to do our homework, and something so normal will help take my mind off of... Sara couldn't finish the thought. Her father was dead. One of her brothers was in the hospital. Her little sister, aunt, and brother-turned-lover were missing. The family that Sara finally cared about was being destroyed, and she was powerless to help them. The pain and grief surged up again to consume Sara.

Henry saw the change in Sara's expression. He knew from two days of experience that despair was seizing her soul again. Henry rose from his chair just as the tears started. Sara stood, wailing with her sorrow.

She opened her arms, and Henry hurried around the table. Sara latched onto the thin teen like a life buoy in a hurricane and cried into his shoulder. Henry held the sobbing girl. He wished he could soothe her pain with words, but he had no words. Henry wished there was something he could do to ease her grief, but there was no task for him to perform. He could only be there, his physical presence letting her know that she was not alone.

Finally, Henry couldn't stand to see Sara hurting as she was. He knew that he was no smooth talker, but he had to say something.

"It'll be okay, Sara," he said, though he didn't quite believe it himself. "Joshua will look after Amy and your Aunt Wilma. We know he won't let anything happen to them." Sara pulled slightly away so she could look into Henry's face. Her face was red, and her green eyes were full of tears, but there was a glimmer of hope as well; hope born of Henry's words.

"Will it really be alright?" Sara asked. Henry realized that he might be about to give Sara false hope. He couldn't do that. He couldn't hurt her in the long run to ease her pain in the short run. It took a moment to think of what to say.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I really don't know," Henry said. "But I trust Joshua. If there is a way out, he'll find it. If anyone can save Amy and your aunt, he can." It was a slim hope, but a real one.

Drake's Island

Joshua awoke in an enclosed space. It was pitch dark of course, but the teen could feel the closeness of the walls around him. He was aware that he was lying on his back, and he raised his arms cautiously. He found a flat padded obstruction a few inches in front of him. What is this? Joshua wondered. Where am I? The obstruction gave with a little pressure, and swung up as if it was hinged on the right side. It's like the lid of a coffin.

There was a lingering ache in Joshua's chest from the amulet that had been hung around his neck. Thought of the amulet brought back the events of Friday afternoon. He had been a prisoner when the hated thing had been put around his neck, but now the chains were gone.

He had surrendered to protect Amy and Aunt Wilma. With thought of the hostages, Joshua forgot caution and threw the lid open. He sprang out, instantly ready for a confrontation.

Joshua found himself in a large room. Except for the wall of metal bars on his left, the entire room was made of stone. There was a metal door set in the wall on the right side of the coffin-like box. The wall of metal bars had a sliding door of similar construction. It was like a jail... or a zoo. Beyond the cage-like wall, there was a wide hallway, and another cell on the far side. The other cell appeared empty. There was a sink and a toilet, but no other furnishings in the cell.

Where are Amy and Aunt Wilma? Joshua wondered. "Amy!" he shouted. "Aunt Wilma!" If they were in this stone prison, perhaps they would hear him. After a few seconds, he heard a response.

"Joshua!" Amy's voice sounded near.

"Are you all right?" they shouted together. Joshua waited for his sister to answer first.

"I'm okay," Amy said. "I haven't seen Aunt Wilma since they brought us here, have you?" Joshua grimaced in anger as he remembered the severed ear. It had belonged to Aunt Wilma. Joshua had recognized the earring.

"No, I just woke up," he answered.

"Amy?" Wilma's voice called faintly down the hall. "Amy-Baby, are you all right?"

"I'm okay, Aunt Wilma," Amy shouted. "The girl who brings me food said you were sick. Are you okay?"

"They cut off one of my ears," Wilma sobbed. "I heard two of the ones who wear clothes talking as they walked past my cell yesterday. They did this because they are after Joshua." Wilma's voice shifted suddenly from terror to rage. "This is all your fault, you bastard! I knew that you and your whore of a mother were no good!" She began to cry again, and scream hysterically. "It's your fault! It's your fault!" Then, a man's voice was heard.

"Shut up!" the man said harshly.

"I hope you rot in Hell, Joshu -" Wilma's words were cut sharply off by the meaty sound of something striking solidly against flesh and bone.

"There," the man's voice said flatly. "The next time I tell you to shut up, you'll remember to listen."

"Aunt Wilma!" Amy shouted.

"You better shut up, too, if you know what's good for you," the voice snarled.

"You're a brave one," Joshua called out. "Brave enough to hit an injured woman and threaten a thirteen-year-old girl. How bold are you when they come a little tougher?" After a moment, Joshua heard the harsh sound of heavy boots on the stone floor. The sound moved quickly closer. Joshua stood his ground close to the bars and waited.

When the man came into view, Joshua was a bit surprised. He was dressed in camouflage trousers, combat boots, and a khaki tank top. The warlike garb was not the surprise, but rather the pitiful specimen clad in it.

He was skinny. What muscle that was evident was flabby and lacked definition. The only place where the shirt didn't hang loosely was over his protruding beer gut. His head looked like a battered potato with all of the hair shorn off, misshapen and scarred. His pale eyes had a dull glint of animal cunning, and his mouth hung slightly open to facilitate breathing.

The creature held a billyclub in his right hand, with a lanyard securing it to his wrist in case he dropped it or someone tried to take it from him. He held his left hand behind his back.

"You got a real big mouth, boy," the guard said. "A big mouth, writing checks your ass can't cash."

"Do you think of your mouth and your ass at the same time because they smell the same?" Joshua asked, holding his anger in check much as he would hold his breath. He couldn't do it forever, but he wanted to get his opponent a little closer. Exuding an aura of rage would drive the man back. "Or because you can't remember which end you think with?"

The guard thrust the club through the bars, aiming for Joshua's face. The teen was ready for this. Joshua dodged to the right. He struck the side of the club, knocking it sideways and jamming it in the bars. When the club was trapped, Joshua seized it, and yanked, using his knowledge of martial arts techniques to maximize the power of the move.

The club slipped out of the guard's hand, but the lanyard around his wrist kept him attached to it, drawing him forward to slam into the steel bars. Joshua continued to hold onto the club with one hand, while reaching through the bars to grab the man by the throat with the other. The man was beyond being stunned when the boy in the cell lifted him off of his feet.

"Give me the keys, or choke to death," Joshua hissed. Barely alive, and barely conscious, the man pulled his left hand from behind his back. In it, he held one of the hated amulets.

Joshua was forced back, but he didn't let go of the thug's throat, thus slamming his face once more into the bars. The teen had no choice but to drop him then, and retreat further into his cell. The enemy fell to the stone floor, dropping the protective charm from his limp hand.

Shielding his eyes, Joshua tried to move closer to the fallen villain. Even lying on the floor, the amulet had enough power to keep the youth from reaching his jailer. Even the club was gone, having been yanked back through the bars by it's attachment to the man's broken wrist. Joshua snarled incoherently in frustration and rage.

Drake knelt in his magic circle. He had been kneeling there for half of the night, and all of the morning. He had chanted himself nearly hoarse, lit candles, drawn runes, offered sacrifices, and called on about half of the Norse pantheon to no avail.

Something big was happening. William Drake could feel it when he tried to make a connection. He didn't know what it was, but for the first time in his career as a sorcerer, Drake sensed that much of the power he counted on wasn't there.

He needed power, needed it desperately. Drake was empty without it. Worse yet, he was vulnerable now. An enemy was out there with the power to thwart him, and to perhaps even harm him.