Courts and Cabals 3 Read online

  “It’s Motel Murder!” I panicked, but didn’t let the three women see it.

  Not too long ago, I’d been your average, vanilla human. I hadn’t been able to rely on my Fae gifts, my bad-ass friends, or even my special sight. It might as well have been a different life. A different me. All of that was in sharp focus as I sat there helplessly.

  Dani and Xamira had taught me how to fight. Lark and Peter the Pegasus had built upon that, but no one taught me the best fighting technique to use when I was lying half-dead on my back and faced with multiple opponents. Even if they were three women who looked just as scared of me as I was of them.

  I was able to identify them pretty easily after hearing their voices. Skella-Stella was on the right. She was average height, classically beautiful, with blonde hair, amber eyes, and European-model thin. Some guys were in to a girl that was so light you could throw her over your shoulder and take her to bed; but to me, Skella-Stella needed more meat on her bones. Of course, that didn’t stop her from being hot.

  She wasn’t wearing fluffy, pink clothing like I’d imagined, but I wasn’t far off. She had on those boot-heel combos that added a few inches to her average height. I always thought they looked good on women. I’d read somewhere that heels focused attention on a woman’s ass. I had to admit, the first thing I checked out when I saw a woman in heels was her ass; so, maybe there was some truth in that.

  White stockings worked their way up and under a white leather skirt. I would have said the eighties called and wanted their fashion trend back, but she made it work. A blue, sequin top would have highlighted her moderate chest, but it was mostly covered up by a pink jacket. There was no fluff to it; it was stylish, streamlined, but had a fur-lined hood. She stared at me like a deer in the headlights.

  Night, on the other hand, frowned at me. I wouldn’t call her Goth, but she was borderline. Straight, jet-black hair was tied up in a lengthy pony tail. She had on the same boot-heels, but I still pegged her as being an inch or two taller than Skella-Stella. Unlike the blonde, Night was pretty average on all accounts. She had a pretty face, which she slathered with too much dark makeup. Again, not quite Goth, but the eyeliner was a little more than most would deem socially acceptable. She had on a tight pair of jeans, a flattering t-shirt with a catchphrase I couldn’t fully read, and a leather jacket. Her eyes squinted as she studied me. Something told me she didn’t do a lot of smiling.

  Whatever her feelings about me or the situation, her attitude about piercings was abundantly clear. At least half a dozen small silver rings were in each ear. One stuck out of her lower lip, and one was imbedded in her nostril. Those were enough to be interesting, but two miniature barbell-shaped bulges at the tips of her breasts caught my full attention. They’d barely escaped being covered by the leather jacket, and I would have missed them entirely if the thin fabric of her shirt didn’t emphasize them on purpose.

  “Yowzah,” my dick approved.

  In the center was the one called Butters, and if her calm reassurances hadn’t pegged her as the leader, her physicality sure as shit did. She was probably my height, and had the kind of body only serious collegiate and professional athletes were able to achieve. The blanket they’d thrown over me stirred as blood started to quickly flow south. I was too busy looking Butters over to stop it. Plus, I was glad my dick worked just fine.

  Butters was wearing a skirt that fell past her knees; so, I’m not even sure if it was technically a skirt. She had on flats, because she didn’t need the heels, but it still showed off her muscular legs. I couldn’t see her ass, but if it was as put together as the rest of her; she won hottest girl of the group by far.

  Her dark shirt fell short of her waist, leaving her stomach bare, and highlighted the outline of abs. I gulped as my dick pulsed underneath the covers. My eyes trailed up to an impressive set of breasts. Even though she had on a L.L. Bean windbreaker, it did nothing to hide the impressive knockers she was packing. A long, graceful neck kept me excited, but it all came to a staggering halt when I reached her face.

  Whatever god made humans had paid considerable attention to Butters. She was excellence; strong, but at the same time delicate. She was everything a guy could ever want if they were into women who could kick ass and take names; which I sure as shit was.

  Then, god had gone on a binger, came back wasted, and tried to finish his masterpiece. It hit me that Butters, Night, and Skella might be nicknames; because Butters had what was colloquially known as a butterface. She was a perfect ten from the neck down, but the face was a definite soft-off. I felt like an asshole for thinking it, and even worse, I was pretty sure she noticed when the tent I’d started to pitch faded as my eyes settled on hers. They were a stormy blue, not that dissimilar from mine, and her brunette hair was stylishly done to hide some of her facial features.

  She slowly took a step toward me with her hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. “How are you feeling?” she asked with genuine concern.

  “Like I was hit by a car,” I replied; Skella-Stella winced, Night just rolled her eyes, but Butters nodded.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” she gave me a smile, which was not as reassuring as she intended it to be. “We were driving back to the border, and you were just lying in the road. We didn’t notice you until it was too late. If it’s any conciliation, we weren’t going that fast when we hit you, and we didn’t run you over. You bounced off the front and tumbled for about ten feet before you stopped. We got you in the car and brought you here as quick as we could.”

  I took in the information she offered, and “border” caught my attention. The girls in front of me were obviously American, so wherever the Trickster had sent me, he hadn’t missed the mark by much. It was either Canada or Mexico, and I fervently prayed for the former. The latter would be an issue.

  My training with the cabal hadn’t been all fighting and magic related. Sure, I learned to hone my Fae gifts, and master certain aspects of glamour. I’d also learned how to tie people up into pretzels in theory. In reality, I’d been the one getting tied up most of the time, but if I came across someone in my weight class, I’d be able to fuck them up.

  “I couldn’t fuck up a wet blanket right now,” I grunted. Any of the three girls could kick my ass if they wanted.

  The other training I’d received occurred in a class room, and had to do with the cabal in general. Before sitting down with Peter, I’d envisioned the cabal as this crystal-clear monolith of power and strength stretching the world over. It wasn’t. Far from it, but that didn’t mean it was any less powerful than people believed it to be.

  At the top of the pyramid of power was the board of directors. Together, they made all the big-boy decisions; or, since the majority of members were women, maybe I should be saying big-girl decisions. Either way, with Venus at the head of the table, the board decided the governing direction of the cabal from their HQ at Caesars Palace in Vegas. Spreading outward from there, things got more complicated.

  The more Peter taught me, the more I started to think of the cabal as a business instead of some sort of medieval feudal structure. Although, there were still oaths that were taken by people entering the cabal, and modern contracts to be signed. Peter divided the world into areas of operations, which had a definite corporate or military ring to it. The first AO, if I was going to use acronyms like Skella-Stella, was North America.

  In North America, especially the USA, the cabal was virtually uncontested. It had major operations in all large, and most medium, sized cities. These smaller zones were administered by a chosen representative that was elected from the cabal members in that zone. The board had to approve the selection, but most of the time the board affirmed its members’ choice.

  Canada was also largely under the Venetian Cabal’s control; although, they had several alliances and agreements with shifter packs that roamed the northern wilds. Canadian shifters outnumbered American shifters, despite the vast population differences, and it had a lot to do with the terrain.r />
  If I was in Canada, it shouldn’t be too difficult for me to find my way home. I’d just find the local representative and show him my tattoo that proclaimed me a member of Lilith’s harem. They’d probably send a G6 to pick me up and fly me back to Vegas. I don’t want to boast, but Lilith was probably worried sick about me.

  “That reminds me. What the fuck is going on with her, Dani, and Xamira?” Last I’d heard, Aveena set my friends up to take the fall for what happened at St. Vincent’s. “I just hope their lawyers were as good as Marcella.” As much as I wanted to get brought up to date, I had more pressing concerns.

  If I had the unfortunate luck of being south of the border, things were going to be more complicated. The cabal still had spheres of influence, politicians in their pocket, and economic leverage in most nations south of the United States, but the AOs weren’t uniformly ours. They were contested. First off, the Quetzalcoatl himself resided in the Yucatan. The ancient, feared dragon didn’t answer to anyone, and wouldn’t even pick up the phone for another dragon that wasn’t as old as he was. The only person in the cabal he’d talk to was Vesuvia, and that was basically to tell her to leave him the fuck alone. The old dragon had mellowed since his human-sacrifice days, but there was still an all-points bulletin out to cabal members to stay clear of him. That meant no spring breaks to Cancun.

  Even more dangerous, if only because they were more active, was the other major cabal in the western hemisphere: the Tikal Cabal. As far as cabals in the New World were concerned, the Venetian’s were the newcomers.

  Venus had come over to the new world on the heels of the Mayflower, and spent the last four hundred years consolidating power through economics, politics, sex, and war. Do you think Napoleon just handed over the Louisiana Purchase to Thomas Jefferson for fifteen million bucks because he needed money for his wars in Europe?

  I did until I took Peter’s cabal history class. In fact, the almost-conqueror of Europe sold over his empire’s North American holdings because Venus tagged along with Robert Livingston and James Monroe and gave the good general one hell of a hummer. He signed on the dotted line in post-coital bliss, and that was only one example of what Venus had swallowed for the country she was building.

  The Tikal Cabal had been prevalent throughout Central and South America for close to three millennia, and they weren’t at all happy about the uppity foreigners that began pushing them out of their territory. That was as far as the lesson went; with Peter making me promise not to go wandering off in Mexico. I made that promise freely and without mental reservation. How the hell was I supposed to know I was going to end up with a front row seat to a frost giant slaughter and then punted back to earth by something with god-like power?

  All of that info flashed through my mind in the few seconds after Butters finished speaking to me. “I guess I should thank you,” I tried to push myself up to a seated position, and winced in the process.

  “Let me help,” she moved forward and got her hands under my shoulders.

  I didn’t want to think of all the flesh-eating bacteria, and other bodily fluids, that covered these blankets. Or the fact I was naked beneath them. Her help also meant she was basically thrusting her tits in my face, and my dick responded in kind.

  “Um . . . thanks,” I tried to get a hold of myself. My gut was telling me that Butters was a decent person. She just had a butterface. It was up to me to not make it awkward. “So, what are three nice girls like you doing in a place like this?” I tried to break the tension with a smile.

  “We were heading back from Butter’s birthday party when . . .” Skella-Stella waved her hand at me.

  “Sorry for ruining your party buzz,” I snapped back. Butters also turned and glared at the other woman.

  “Speaking of that, we really should get back to campus,” Night interjected. “We’ll leave you enough cash for a few nights, pick you up some food, and you can take it from there.” Something about her tone told me she really wanted to be gone.

  “Enough,” Butters put her foot down. “We hit him. He’s our responsibility.”

  “Yeah, you break it, you buy it,” I grinned at them. That actually got a smile and laugh out of Butters. The smile helped her face a little.

  “Could you tell me exactly where we are?” I seemed to have Butters eager to help, so I pressed my advantage.

  “We’re somewhere on the outskirts of Tijuana,” she explained.

  I blanched at the statement, and Peter’s voice resounded in my ears. “Whatever you do, don’t go to Tijuana,” the Pegasus had said.

  Tijuana’s lawless atmosphere had only intensified after the Revelation. It was already a hard-partying town, with lots of cartel and crime problems. Supernaturals coming out into the open only enhanced that. Things that a supernatural couldn’t get away with anywhere else, they could do in Tijuana. Vamps came here when they wanted to pig out without the elders and their kill teams exterminating them. Shifters with certain proclivities migrated south as well. It gave donkey show an entire new meaning, and that wasn’t the worst of it. Tijuana was the frontlines of the cold, and sometimes hot, war between the Venetians and Tikals. It was the last place I wanted to be.

  “Great,” I forced a smile, “and you were all heading back to a campus?”

  “We’re Kappa Magnus from the University of California, San Diego,” Butters replied.

  “Klingon Munchkins from UCSD?” I asked, not having the slightest clue what that meant.

  “Shhh,” Stella-Skella shushed Butters with wide eyes. “Don’t tell him who we are.”

  “Shut up, Skella,” Butters fired back, and I was sure she said Skella and not Stella this time.

  “That’s an unusual name, Skella,” I raised an eyebrow, as she huffed, puffed, went to the bathroom, and slammed the door. I don’t know how I offended her.

  “Kappa Magnus, it’s a sorority,” Butters offered helpfully. “And her real name isn’t Skella. That’s our nickname for her. Her real name is Stella, but you’ve seen her, she’s a bean pole. Someone called her Skeletor at one point, which became Skella during rush week, and it stuck.”

  “OMG, shut up, Butters!” Skella screamed from the bathroom.

  Butters just rolled her eyes and pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “That’s Night, short for Mia Knight,” she spelled out the silent K in the other girl’s name.

  “And you call her Night because . . .” I wiggled my fingertips. All of Night’s nails were painted black.

  “No,” Night’s voice was hard, but she didn’t throw a tantrum and stalk off. “I serve the Lady Nyx, and I’m not afraid to say it. All true believers are unashamed of their convictions.”

  “Oh,” I let the syllable just hang there. I never knew what to say to religious nutjobs without offending them.

  I knew from my own love of history and mythology that Nyx was a daughter of Chaos. Not the chaos that meant anarchy. People got that wrong a lot. This Chaos was the primal uncontrollable forces of nature. She was a sister of Gaia, Tartarus, Eros and Erebus. She was the personification of night, and stood by at the dawn of creation.

  I’d come to know that these ancient deities weren’t the Greek’s, Egyptian’s, or even Roman’s trying to assign a higher power and meaning to their lives. These things, or something like them, actually existed. Exhibit A was Lilith’s mother, Venus. She’d told me she was born, gained consciousness, or however you wanted to describe her creation, sometime during the last ice age. At least, I assumed it was the last ice age. I don’t remember if she clarified that point. Whatever the case, that made her over ten thousand years old on the low side, and I was pretty sure she was just about every ancient deity of love, sex, or lust in mankind’s ancient cultures.

  Nyx was probably another one of these ancients, and Night’s worship of her gave the ancient deity power. It literally ate from the all-you-can-eat buffet of mankind, and Night was one of those entrees. Knowing that, I didn’t feel super comfortable around her.

  “And I�
�m Sandra Buttersworth, so of course they call me Butters because of my last name and . . .” she trailed off and pointed at her face.

  In that moment, I felt like a complete dick. Even worse, I didn’t know what to say. If I said her face wasn’t that bad, it would be a lie, and something told me Butters was great at sniffing out lies. Instead, I tried to diffuse the situation with comedy.

  “That’s a lame nickname. I expected better from the vaulted sororities of California’s great public university system,” I gave her a smile. She was by far my greatest ally right now. I needed to keep it that way.

  Night just snorted, but Butter’s face flushed red as she looked down and away from me.

  “So, Kappa Magnus,” I tried to keep them talking. “What’s a sorority like? All sleepovers and naked pillow fights?”

  “Ha ha,” Night rolled her eyes. “I’m going to grab a soda. This guy is just leaving me in stitches.”

  Butters watched her go, and then turned back to me. We were alone and that seemed to make her nervous. It made me nervous too. If we fought, there was no question in my mind this girl would win.

  “It’s a sorority for mages, thus the Magnus part. You must know, I’m sure a cute guy like you belongs to some fraternity,” despite trying to keep it casual, Butter’s face took on a hue that would make a fire engine jealous.

  “Is she flirting with me?” I didn’t have a lot of experience in the art of flirting with the fairer sex, but even I knew that was a bad line. Still, my ego accepted it willingly. “She also thinks I’m a college boy, and mage,” It was better not to correct her on the latter, but the former . . .

  “No fraternity for me, to many naked Jell-O shots,” I replied, which got another laugh out of her. “But no, I’m not a mage.”

  That brought a frown to her face. “Are you sure?” she asked, lifting her hand only to put it down again.

  “I’m pretty sure,” I replied. I’d spent eighteen years cowering before those with power. I sure as shit wouldn’t have done that if I had a choice.