Chapter 14: Confederates of the Exiled

July, 1988

And a while it did take. The three of us wound up eating a late lunch in Eoin's office as I told them about the various attempts on my life before being sent back to West Germany. Eoin looked like he already knew about them but Ambrose started looking at me with even more speculation in those dirty snow-gray eyes of his. By the time I finished my story, the lunch was gone and Ambrose was gaping, his eyes bouncing from me to Eoin and back again in a metronomic fashion.

"Um-" Ambrose began but stopped when Eoin placed his plate on the desk and leaned forward, elbows on the desk and chin resting on fists as his eyes gazed at me.

"Ogres?" was his only response to the tale that took almost an hour to relate.

I shrugged and smiled impishly. "Actually, they were just hit men for the Goblins," was my retort.

He shook his head and glanced to Ambrose. "I warned you that I had come to believe things people in my station and class should not," he reminded his friend with a wry smile. "Of course, this is a bit beyond what even I had come to believe. Herr Lars a vampire makes sense given my encounter, but what does he want with you?"

I shrugged irritably. "I think he thinks I am older and more hormone-befuddled than I will ever hopefully get," I snapped, placing my plate on the desk and rising to pace. I saw an alarmed look on his face and clarified, "Hormone befuddled, not older. I plan to live to a ripe old age. But he seems to forget I am not even a teenager. Hell, I am barely twelve!"

Ambrose smiled diffidently and offered, "People married daughters off much younger in ages past. A couple hundred years ago your father would have already been fielding offers of marriage for you by now," he remarked, some of the vagueness going out of his voice temporarily as he mused on history instead of fantasy. Then he looked at where I had stopped pacing to stare at him incredulously and the smile changed in some unidentifiable way. "Then again, you are not exactly the model of maidenly obedience and feminine grace most fathers were looking for in their prospective daughters-in-law."

Eoin chuckled. "She isn't what most fathers are looking for in prospective daughters-in-law today!"

Both men shared their amusement over that and I simply crossed my arms and glared at them, raising their hilarity even further. "Yuck it up, boys! Yuck it up!"

Eoin got himself back under control and sighed, looking at me with speculative eyes. "I would take it from your story that nobody has tested your capacities and abilities?"

I looked at him like he was crazy. "When in the last couple of weeks have I had time?" came the angry demand, the pain of retelling the story still throbbing in my heart. "If I wasn't being attacked by monsters, offered truces by vampires, being screwed with by monks, or being kidnapped by my government, I was running and trying to avoid being mugged or otherwise molested."

He raised his hand in a fencer's gesture, acknowledging the hit. "Fair enough. I think we can agree on several points, though. First, no public displays of athletic ability can be allowed, at least for now. No soccer or martial arts, publicly at least. Second, getting your full measure should be a priority so we know how much you can do and what we can help you develop. Third, getting you into your Australian persona as quickly as possible is a must. For that, you are going to have to start by using Ambrose as a model, despite his accent being washed out with English, and begin by imitating him at all times. We have someone else coming in who has the exact accent we are trying for and he will also be coming to help you train on other things as well. Australian history, government, geography (especially that of my brother's home), as well as to help keep you fit in your skills. And that leads me into my fourth point; we will want to keep your martial training up. Ambrose can help with that by teaching you the hodgepodge of styles he uses until Paul and Hestia get here. Hestia is going to be teaching you deportment so my mother does not fall into an apoplectic fit when she finally sees you and to further distance your mannerisms from those of Alexa's. Paul is a master in Krav Maga and Jujitsu and Hestia is a practitioner of Chi Gong and Kung Fu. I think you will find them quite challenging. Any questions or disagreements on any of that?"

"Uh, no. Not really," I replied, half-dubious, half-anticipatory. The idea of systematically testing what exactly I was capable of sent a thrill of eager fear up my spine. It was something I am sure Fernando or my dad would have done, if they had been given a chance.

I could not wait to begin!

I think I nearly drove Ambrose crazy over the next week or so.

I spent that week following the Australian around, keeping up a running monologue using my best imitation of his best Australian accent (which was not authentic due to his trying to use it from ten years since his last visit back there). By midweek, I was hunting him down, because I was pretty sure he was actively avoiding me and his answers to anything I said quickly became monosyllabic.

Saturday dawned dreary and somewhat chill. Well, chill for Missouri or Washington, D. C. in July. About the low end of average for northern England/southern Scotland. Mistress MacGregor must have liked cooking for someone who could appreciate it because she always smiled benignly down upon me as she set out a rather large breakfast for me. The other ladies in service to Eoin also seemed to like that I ate more than their boss and Ambrose (who always seemed to be there for breakfast) combined.

I was mopping up the last of the egg yolk with a piece of buttered toast when Eoin set his tea cup down with deliberate intent. "A bit of good news for today," he began, his tone a bit odd. "Hestia called late last night to inform me she will be back in country and will be attending to us today at afternoon tea."

Ambrose frowned at that, brow furrowed. "I thought you told me you were unable to contact her as yet due to her being oversea on assignment."

Eoin shrugged his puzzlement away. "I am at a loss to explain it. She already knew about everything. Alice, her father, their problems both natural and not so, and even her troubles in Belfast," the nobleman told them with a hint of exasperated curiosity thwarted in his voice. "She scolded me, in fact, for setting up her exodus from Germany through Northern Ireland. She made me promise to never allow Alice anywhere near Belfast again! By the time she was done scolding me, she had her travel arranged and was running out the door of whatever club she was in and yelling at a driver to get her to the airport and not to worry about the speed limit. It was all very surreal and reminded me rather forcefully why Hestia was a last resort in this."

"Hmph! That doesn't sound like the Hestia Wellington I know," Ambrose muttered musingly. His face said that this whole situation was wearing him thin and this Hestia thing was just one more thing not behaving as it should.

Eoin, however, chuckled, his head shaking in a sort of wonderment mixed with cautiousness. "Actually, it sounds very like the Hestia Wellington I know," he retorted with fond irritation, a wry smile making his eyes twinkle. "Hestia is who Hestia is, depending on the situation ... or her mood. I am sure the Hestia you met and dealt with was her professional, no nonsense mien that she wears when working with others who do not know her well. I, however, have known her since I was a lad. Therefore I get the older sister/younger aunt Hestia who bosses me around and makes me feel twelve all over again.

"Whichever Hestia it is, she will be here at around three this afternoon," Eoin told us. "For anyone else, Alice, I would tell you to make yourself as presentable as possible in this situation. She will, after all, be teaching you deportment. Hestia, however, will see through any attempt to camouflage your true nature, so you are fine as you are."

"Well, I am sooo glad I meet with your approval, m'lord," I spat back sarcastically, giving him a florid bow before huffing out of the kitchen.

I found myself with a lot of nervous energy, no matter what front I put on with Eoin and Ambrose. Since it was drizzling outside, I adjourned to the nicely equipped gym Eoin had set up in the basement. The morning was whiled away muttering in German to keep up my fluency and running as fast as the treadmill could take for an hour, then using the weight machines for an hour, and then back to the treadmill again.

My arms and legs were trembling nicely and my body was telling me it would do no more without food when a sexily husky female voice inquired from behind me, "How long have you been at that, love?"

Stumbling slightly, I slipped off the treadmill and turned to face a classily beautiful older woman of middle height and slim build. Her creamy white face had barely-there lines at the eyes and mouth and her hair was a burnished coppery red, but something in those gray-green eyes and her confident bearing said that she was older than Eoin by at least a decade and probably more. She was dressed in kaki slacks with multiple large pockets tucked into black leather boots that sheathed her lower legs to the knees, a wide leather belt of the same hue as the boots, and a loose sleeved, tight white silk shirt that showed she was definitely a woman even though she was not overly curvy. The copper hair was elaborately braided and pinned up making her look a little like Princess Leia at the beginning of Return of the Jedi.

I processed all of that in the few seconds it took me to pick up a towel and wipe the sweat from my face. "What time is it?" I returned in query.

A smile curved her graceful lips and those agate eyes twinkled. "Lunchtime. Wash up, change clothes, and come to Eoin's office," was her nonchalant reply. "We have a bit to discuss and I think we should all be as comfortable as possible."

It was a quick shower followed by even quicker dressing. I was very anxious to officially meet the seemingly infamous Hestia.

The door to the study was open and Eoin and Hestia were waiting, a quick lunch of Cornish pasties and mugs of French onion soup was sitting on the desk before each of them and one of the empty seats. Eoin waved me to my seat and I fell on my lunch like a lion on a wildebeest. After two pasties and half of the onion soup, I recalled what Hestia was supposed to be there to teach me and I glanced up from the delicious food to see Eoin with his hand poorly covering a wide grin and Hestia watching me with arched brows.

Gulping down the mouthful of pasty, I muttered, "Sorry, but I really needed that!" The rest of lunch I devoured with a little more decorum.

"As you probably guessed, Alice," Eoin began after we all finished eating, "This is Hestia Wellington. Hestia, this is my new niece Alice Spencer-Killdare. While I know better people who could teach you decorum so you can meet my mother without sending her running from the room in horror due to your table manners, I cannot really say I could trust them with your situation as much. They would be a risk to your security, whereas Hestia is not. She has long been a trustworthy friend and confidant of mine."

A wry smile flickered to life on features I was quickly coming to realize were naturally impish. "Thank you for that backhanded compliment, Eoin dear," she said in her husky timbre, her eyes soft with fondness for him. As she turned those gray-green orbs on me, however, they turned measuring. "As you might have guessed, I got here a bit earlier than expected. I find myself both eager to meet and work with you and trepidatious as to how you are going to react to why I am eager."

I am quite sure my face accurately reflected my sudden suspicious dread. My butt was suddenly on the edge of my seat and my weight balanced on the balls of my feet as I turned my body to face her. "What, exactly, does that mean?" was my quite, measured reply even though I was quite ready for fight-or-flight.

An amazed look popped up on the lovely features facing me and she turned somewhat incredulous eyes toward Eoin while keeping her own body facing me. "You know, I thought you were joking, or at least exaggerating," the older woman said obscurely. Her gaze returned to me and they held an amalgam of sorrow and shock. "You really are that quick to step to the edge of massive, devastating violence of a fatal nature. How many of those thugs in Belfast never got up again, Alice? Never mind. What happened happened and at least William is alive. Your ... alertness to the dangers posed to you changes nothing but the ratio of eagerness to trepidation, in favor of trepidation.

"In so saying, let me be clear that Eoin knew none of what I am about to tell you," Hestia assured me, flicking an apologetic shrug at her friend, who was looking at her rather sharply. "I guess the best way to put it is that I am associated with, though not a member of, a certain Order of monks whose acquaintance you made before you fled West Germany," she said with mincing words and cautious tone.

I felt my eyes go cold. "And what do you mean by 'associated?'"

Her head twitched in an almost aborted shake of irritation. "Well, let us just say that the Roman Catholic Church, from which the Order springs, is still a little patriarchal. For the most part, their official ordained members are male. They have operatives that are female. I am not one of those. They have others, like you, sent by God to battle evil in this world. Obviously I am not one of those. Then there are those who, in the course of their lives or occupations, have convergent interests and goals with the Order or their agents. We share information that might be useful to each other and, on occasion, work together on a common objective.

"Two days ago, I was alerted that you disappeared from West Germany, your father turned up without you at his base commander's office, and nobody was sure what happened," Hestia explained, her voice telling me that the earnestly concerned look on her face was probably real. "I knew you had visited Eoin previously and when I heard he suddenly had an orphaned niece come to live with him, I put two and two together. While I would have liked to complete the project I was pursuing, this situation is much, much more important. My Order contacts practically begged me to take a hand in this when they learned you were somewhere in the Isles, having already learned about the scuffle you had in Belfast and cleaned up the mess. They appreciate my skills and what I can teach you, above and beyond the decorum Eoin so wishes you to learn."

Her explanation thawed me a little, but I was not happy someone so close to those crazy monks found me. Were there other choices before me, or were I a little older with more worldly experience than that of a rather sheltered army brat, perhaps plans of bolting Eoin's planned exile for an even lonelier one of my own devising would have been possible. I was twelve, however, with both limited experience to see other paths and simply having fewer paths from which to actually choose. My religious views at that point in my life were not profound to say the least. I was twelve, after all. I could probably state my religious views and knowledge in one sentence: There was a God and I believed in Him. Anything deeper or more detailed than that would have been beyond me. I was not overly devout and, at that point in my life, I was not particularly happy with God. I would not have called myself an active, practicing Catholic, either. I was my father's daughter in that. It was Mommy who was the catechist and the lector and the Eucharistic minister. Mommy took me to get blessed by the bishop and baptized by the cardinal. Daddy was worldlier, had seen more of what goes on when God was busy and not paying attention. And so had I, now. And so I was reluctant to simply throw in the towel on my struggle against the crazy monk, you-are-destined-to-be-God's-avenger, holy warrior path that the Order was trying to push me down.

Then again, I did kill three Ogres single-handedly, punched holes in trees without hurting myself, and took out a small gang of Irish thugs (again, single-handedly). I also had been visited by an angel who claimed God was worried about me and comforted me in my anger at my entire situation. Perhaps it was time and passed that I simply accepted the reality of what my life had truly become.