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AUTHOR'S NOTES
This story almost came to a screeching halt. I knew where I wanted the plot the go but frankly had no idea how to get there. I'd briefly considered "treading water" by writing filler until I could figure it out. HOWEVER, thanks to e-Mail and IM conversations with my "ebony muse" (yes, the mysterious D B) and "Dallas Steve" I finally got the push I needed to move the story forward! Thanks guys! You are awesome e-buddies! I owe you both big time.
Shout out to Rod in Atlanta who wrote me a lovely note that started my personal "mental grist-mill" giving me some ideas that might show up in the second or third volume of The Dover Trilogy. The Dover Brothers is winding down but there will be further adventures of our dauntless Detective and his crew coming up in Dover and Son. Watch this space for news!
As always, questions, comments, suggestions and complaints are always welcome. Drop me a line at HonableRonable@gmail.com and I WILL get back to you. Your suggestion might fire up an idea for a character or a plot point and you WILL get credit here in the Author's Notes. Likewise, if you wish to be notified when new content is available drop me a line at the above e-Mail or send a note to RonVenable@hotmail.com . After all, since you've invested this much time with my story you don't want to miss the exciting conclusion of The Detective and the Druid!
CHAPTER 18 Putting It Together
Ben Dover, Age 48 -- our Hero
Gretchen Merriwyck, Age 38 -- Women's Studies Chair, Kings College
Jon Qwilleran, Age 51 -- owner of Bistro Q
Dan Watanabe, Age 44 -- owner of BodyMax Gym
Merlin Oberon, mysterious owner of the Raven's Roost Exotic Spice Shoppe
"Auntie" Roger Quartermaine, Age 45 -- former Dallas Cowboys Lineman
Sascha Markov, Age 35 -- Fashion Designer and Gypsy Witch
Seamus Kennedy, Age 40 -- Solo Druid, Bookstore Owner
Ben rubbed his temple as an angry-looking woman came stomping toward him. First, she seemed blandly pretty in a gray twin-set with charcoal pants, no make up or jewelry then she morphed into a stunning beauty in a deep ruby cocktail dress that hugged her amazing curves. Long black hair now fell in waves around her bare ivory shoulders and she was made up for the gods. Next, she seemed to grow large bat wings out of her back while her eyes became blood red and fangs peeked out of her mouth. Last she transformed into a reasonably good copy of Ben's dead wife Robyn. "Ma'am, I'll thank ya kindly not t' do that!" Ben snapped.
"What do you mean, sugar pie?" The voice was spot on but the words and attitude were all wrong. "Benjy baby--you're SCARIN' me!"
The Texan briefly considered punching this wench out but his awen told him that's exactly what she wanted. "Ma'am-- `r should I address ya as Dr. Merriwyck...?" he said. "It's a nice illusion but I ain't buyin'! M' wife was a dear sweet, CHRISTIAN woman an' you couldn't hope t' hold a candle t' her on y'r BEST day!"
"Have you been DRINKING Mr. Dover?" Since playing the dead wife' card hadn't worked the woman seamlessly switched to shocked Academician'. "And you wonder why we have concerns about you!"
Ben just smiled and there was a certain slyness in that grin. "Ma'am," he said, oh so politely, "I s'pose I ought t' thank you! I wondered why th' Third Wave' Feminists would have their panties in a bunch over someone like me. Turns out you were just afraid I'd expose ya f'r th' vampire' ya are!"
"I'm not a VAMPIRE, you idiot!" Merriwyck snapped. "I'm a SUCCUBUS! Don't you know the difference?"
"Vampires suck blood," the man responded with devious politeness. Succubae like you consume sexual energy! Both r' parasites! Now I just hafta figger out th' connection b'tween you an' the Sons o' Purity'!"
"Nobody will believe you!" the woman hissed but Ben didn't have to be a Telepath to sense the doubt in her voice. "You keep blathering nonsense like this and they'll send you off to the looney bin!"
"At least ya didn't say `Booby Hatch' sweetheart!" Ben cracked. "Nice titties by th' way--but next time y' might wanna try sendin' an Incubus!"
"Nobody will believe you!" the woman growled.
"John-Thomas Bilodeau will," Ben told her. "You were very careful t' conceal y'r true' nature around him but he knew there was somethin' off' about you! Now it's just a matter o' diggin' out y'r dirty little secrets!"
"You don't scare me, Ben Dover! I have TENURE!"
"We'll see darlin'..." the brown-haired bull replied. "We'll see..."
Ben was late arriving at Bistro Q for his meeting; everyone else already had their drinks when the man was finally conducted to a table in a side room. "You look pensive," Jim Qwilleran observed.
"Ran into someone at school," the Texan commented. "It was--interestin'..."
"OOH, do tell gurl!" This man was at least as tall as Ben and broad as well. He had thick auburn hair worn in a pony tail that nearly reached his waist and gray eyes in a strong-featured face with a creamy complexion. He wore a long coat of mauve brocade, a white shirt with what Ben assumed was a jabot and skinny jeans that fought to contain heavy muscles. Burgundy slippers embroidered with pink roses and adorned with pearls hugged his large feet. "Do sit and spill the tea dear heart! Inquiring minds want to know!"
"Ben--may I present Roger Quartermaine?" Quill said.
"Call me Auntie Roger dear heart!" the other man gushed. "Everyone does!"
"Roger Quartermaine?" Ben repeated, "as in THE Roger Quartermaine?"
"Formerly of the `Fab Front Four' when the Cowboys were still a good team!" the man replied with a dismissive wave. "Yes, I'm THAT Roger Quartermaine! Then I retired ahead of a scandal and decided to let my freak flag fly! Oh, I DO hope I haven't destroyed your boyhood illusions! I'd simply HATE to do that!"
"I r'member you from back in the day!" Ben allowed. "Off the field you always wore these outrageous--some might say crazy--outfits! As I recall ya never went anywhere without th' `Bod Squad', a bevy o' big-breasted beauties that dressed as wildly as you..."
"There was usually at least ONE Drag Queen in the mix!" Roger told him. "I think those Texas football fans would simply have DIED had they caught on, don't you dear heart?"
"I always wondered what happened t' ya once y' retired..."
"I moved to California and started the renovations of the Arts District!" s/he told Ben. "I lead a much quieter life now--but I'm happy!"
"You smell like you had a run-in with a Succubus!" This man was, in his own way, as outrageous as Auntie Roger. He was tall and thin but with whipcord muscles visible under his black net tank top. His eyes were so dark blue they almost seemed black and his skin was alabaster. Ben could see a host of tattoos some of which he recognized as Druidic. His hair, shaved on the sides and styled into an elaborate braided mohawk was as black as raven's wings. "Is that what got you so upset?"
"We all know about the `exotic' here," said the last man. Compared to the other men he was almost plain by comparison although he was unique in his own way. He stood only about 5'7" with features of a delicate oriental cast but his hair was soft, wavy and brown and his eyes were green. His skin was an interesting shade of golden ivory. "BTW, I'm Dan Watanabe, the owner of BodyMax and the punkster is Merlin Oberon; he owns the Raven's Roost."
"I've heard of it," Ben replied. "Cliff n' John-Thomas buy spell-craft stuff from you an' certain specialty teas' as well..."
"So--let's get back to the Succubus. Shall we?" Auntie Roger said. "What on Earth happened?"
"I've been havin' trouble with a certain' faction at th' College," the big man said. "Some ladies callin' themselves Third Wave Feminists--whatever th' Hell that is--took a dislike t' me. I wasn't sure why-- til t'day..." Turns out th' head o' th' Women's Studies department happens t' be a Succubus!"
"I had my suspicions about Dr. Merriwyck," Merlin offered. "I've never been able to get close to her. I suppose I know why now..."
"I hafta wonder if she's workin' with the `Sons'," Ben commented, "an', if so, why? It doesn't seem like an obvious alliance."
"But, dear heart, those are the best kind!" Auntie Roger enthused. "Who would think of a radical feminist working with a bunch of Neo-Nazis? It's the perfect pairing!"
"But do their goals align?" Dan Watanabe mused. He dressed like a gym rat but Ben realized that he had a Cop's instincts. "I can't think of what would force them together."
"Here's a tidbit for you to chew on darlings," Auntie Roger supplied. "The Sons of Purity are trading in all three types of Lotus which they manufacture using the blood of the Fey! Neither Court is particularly friendly to the Agents of Hell!"
"How d' ya know that, Ma'am?" Ben asked Auntie Roger politely but his inner alarm bells were ringing.
"You have your `gift' dear heart, I have mine!" the former footballer told him. "I make friends easily and everywhere! They tell me things--things I sometimes decide to share with people I think need to know!"
"You can trust everyone at this table Ben," Qwilleran assured him. Ben's awen told him Qwill was telling the truth.
"I also happen to know that Aethylbryk ended his campaign on the surface world because of your oath!" Roger told Ben. "We're all grateful to you for that!"
"Merlin, you're the Magician here," Dan put in. "If someone is going to buy magical ingredients for a spell, they'd have to come to you, right?" The man with the tattoos nodded. "Has anyone come to your shop looking for Questionable ingredients?"
"Constantly!" the man with the incredible mohawk and abundant tattoos replied. "I don't sell Black Magic' ingredients and I'm very particular about whom I will allow to buy Gray Magic' items! If you're looking for a connection between a Succubus and the `Sons' there it is!"
"But the `Sons' don't do magic!" Ben surmised.
"Are you sure about that dear heart?" Auntie Roger queried. "I wouldn't bet on it! We ALL know two-faced liars who say one thing and do another!"
"The Oberdorfs and their allies don't have anything in the way of magical ability," Merlin said. "They obviously have an ally with strong magical skills."
"We should probably assume it's someone local," Dan suggested and Ben found he agreed. "Who in Kings Harbor c'n do that kind of magic?"
"The list isn't long," Merlin supplied. "It begins with me."
"Is it you?" Ben asked bluntly.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Merlin replied. "I'm old enough to remember when humans fought with the Fey over dominance of the surface world! I know what a mess that was and I have no desire to see that re-enacted in the Modern World! We're less prepared for war now then we were way back when!"
Ben's awen told him the Mage was telling the truth. His instincts also told him he was in the presence of some truly ancient power. "OK," he said, deciding not to pursue that angle. "Who else?"
"Your brother Clifford has the skills," the Mage told Ben.
"He has the skill but not the temperament!" Auntie Roger avowed. "Furthermore, he's living with a telepath and mental magician! I simply don't see John-Thomas staying with a man who would engage in such behavior! Also, let's not forget dear Catfish! His empathy would surely pick up such monstrous evil!"
"And there's always Ben's *awen"," Merlin said. "No--Cliff's not a good suspect!"
"What about the other Druids?" Dan asked.
"None of them have the skill or experience," Merlin replied.
"Likely the Henge would repudiate them if they did anything so heinous!" Auntie Roger said. "Next suspect?"
"Sascha Markov is another candidate," the mohawked Mage allowed.
"Surely not Sascha!" Auntie Roger exclaimed.
"Just because she's your friend doesn't automatically absolve her," Dan said suspiciously. "She is a gypsy after all!"
"Which means exactly nothing!" Roger snapped back.
"I don't see her as a likely suspect," Merlin offered. "Still, she has connections I don't and she might have some ideas! She knows the local Hedge Witches better than I do."
"I'll speak t' her," Ben promised. "She helped m' brother out with th' Ojedas; she might be willin' t' assist again! Who else is on th' list?"
"Just one," Merlin said. "Seamus Kennedy!"
"Th' lone Druid?" Ben queried. "He was at th' Solstice celebration at th' Henge an' nothin' happened..."
"Did he try doing any magic?" Auntie Roger asked.
Ben thought hard. "I didn't see anythin'..." he finally admitted. "Not that I was lookin' that hard! I was doin' m' own celebratin'--if ya get m' drift!"
"I WAS there," Dan supplied, "and all I saw was Seamus dancing, eating, drinking--a lot, and pursuing several young ladies!"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a Solstice celebration?" Qwill asked. "I mean, I don't know enough about it to be an expert."
"I DO know something about Pagan ceremonies!" Auntie Roger put in. "Yes, dancing, sharing of the Earth's bounty and `connubial bliss' are all part of the celebration but one is expected to spend some time in spiritual reflection and grateful praise to the Gods."
"He didn't do that." Dan's words were flat.
"Rumor has it he resents the hell out of your brother!" Auntie Roger said. "He is resentful that Cliff has done so well for himself. He's also pissed that your brother controls the Henge..."
"Sorry for asking this," Qwill said, jumping in, "but did Cliff use any magical means to get what he has?"
"No!" Ben replied confidently. "Cliff was a scholarship student at Stanford but he worked his ass off to get top grades! He won a decent sized lottery in Grad School but he managed that money carefully. Cliff has also published several text books used in high school and college biology classes around th' country. Ever'thin' he got was through a combination o' good luck an' hard work!"
"Luck equals preparation plus opportunity," Qwill observed. "Your brother worked hard for everything he got so Seamus has nothing to be jealous of."
"Jealousy doesn't require rationality," Auntie Roger said. "All that matters is someone has something YOU do not! Your brother has money and power; Seamus Kennedy wants both!"
"Before you all go branding Mr. Kennedy as the culprit there are two other possible suspects living locally," Merlin put in. "Po Jiang Li has the skills needed to craft Lotus as does the Dark Lady!"
"I don't see Master Po as the perpetrator," Dan said. "He may have `a slight flaw' in his character but I don't see him wanting to start a war between humanity and the Fey! Plus, he hates the Sons of Purity!"
"Still, we can't take im off th' list," Ben observed. "Who's this Dark Lady'?"
"Jacqueline La Pointe," Auntie Roger supplied. "She's a Witch known to dabble in the darker arts--also one of Kings Harbor's movers and shakers!"
"Never heard o' her," the Texan said.
"She makes a point of keeping away from the Druids and other magical' types!" Auntie Roger told him. "I know Jacqui, although I wouldn't call us friends! Not that she calls ANYONE friends! I have trouble seeing her as our Mole' since ONE) she's ethnic and TWO) Jacqui has a pretty damn good thing going."
"We're runnin' out o' suspects here!" Ben commented.
"So, I guess we need to start running people down and checking them off the list!" Dan replied. "Auntie Roger said something about you having `true sight' and some God-touched abilities; I think that makes you the logical choice to do the groundwork!"
"Indeed!" the auburn-haired ex-footballer said, "do you mind Ben?"
The Texan looked curiously at Auntie Roger; he hadn't told any of these men about his "unique" abilities and the ex-footballer didn't seem to have any close connections to the Druids. How could Roger have found out about him? The other men seemed to trust this "fabulous creature" but the big Texan didn't really know any of them. In the end, his awen wasn't warning him off so Ben decided to let this mystery wait on the back burner: there would be plenty of time to solve the problem that was Roger Quartermaine at a later date! "I'm in," was all he said.
Sascha Markov had a Live/Work space in the middle of the Art's District. Ben felt more-than-a-bit awkward as he stepped into a store space featuring her various lines, Lady Sascha ™, Mariposa ™ and Gypsy Lady ™ but a kind sales girl was quick to wrangle an introduction.
Sascha, a tall curvy Goddess with waves of honey-gold hair, amber eyes and a good tan bounced up to envelop her visitor in a hug followed by a kiss on each cheek. The lady seemed to have a passion for her own clothing line (boho chic) and a liking for gold jewelry. Ben counted several necklaces, at least five rings, a set of chandelier earrings and several bracelets on both wrists. (If the stuff was real, she was wearing a small fortune.) "Hello Benjeleh!" she said. "What can I do for you?"
"C'n we talk somewhere more private?" he asked. The sales staff and customers all seemed to have stopped what they were doing to pay attention to their conversation. He said nothing else but gave the store a meaningful glance.
"Let's have a nice Glass Tea!" she said, picking up on his expression. "Walk this way *dahlink! *" The woman headed toward a back staircase and Ben couldn't help but admire how her hips swayed. Ben realized had he been straight he would be all over that woman! Yes, she was "abundant" but there was a certain sense that Sascha was happy with herself and didn't give a damn what anyone else thought! Ben found that quality quite attractive.
Sascha's apartment proved to be as exotic and eclectic as the woman herself with bright-colors everywhere and texture on top of texture. Ben found he wasn't sure where to look first. Sascha busied herself in the open kitchen preparing two glasses of iced tea. "Lemon? Sugar? Mint, dahlink?" she asked.
"Ah--I'll take it plain Ma'am," the Texan replied. Californians didn't make "sweet tea" and pouring sugar into already-brewed liquid just created a thick sludge at the bottom of the glass. Adding lemon to unsweetened tea didn't seem like a good idea and he wasn't sure what one was supposed to do with mint were it offered.
"So, dahlink, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Sascha took a delicate sip of her tea as she waited for an answer.
Ben decided to be blunt and just dive in. "Ma'am-- `r' ya workin' with th' Blackshirts?"
The woman nearly did a spit-take. "Are you KIDDING?" she asked. "I'm a half-Jewish Gypsy WITCH!" she exclaimed. "Why would I work with a bunch of gangstermachers like that?"
"Sorry Ma'am," Ben rumbled, "I had t' ask! Wouldja happen t' know anyone who WOULD work with `em?"
"What's this all about?" she asked, the accent vanishing away along with her good spirits. " What are you accusing me of, Mr. Dover?"
"Nothin' Ma'am," the big man replied. "I apologize Miz Sascha but there's major trouble afoot..." He then related the story and included his suspicions. "So--ya c'n see why I'm suspicious!"
"I can indeed!" she replied. "The `Rom' have always maintained a good, if cautious, friendship with both Courts of the Fey! I wouldn't dream of changing that--especially for some stupid schmucks like the Sons of Purity! None of the Hedge Witches I know would either..."
"I b'lieve ya Ma'am," Ben assured her. (His awen told Ben Sascha was speaking truthfully.) "I thought I'd visit you first an' git th' easy one out o' the way!"
"If there's anything I can do to help, *bubeleh" ...?" Sascha offered.
"Thank ya kindly Ma'am!" Ben said. "I'll definitely keep that in mind!"
"So, dahlink, where are you going next?"
"Seamus Kennedy," Ben told her. Ben finished his tea and the pair said their goodbyes and then he was off to his next destination.
"Ben Dover! What an unexpected pleasure!" Seamus Kennedy didn't come out from behind the counter of Kennedy's Book Barn and he didn't seem happy to see the Texan even though the shop was empty at the moment. Ben saw beads of sweat pop out on the Solo Druid's forehead. "What can I do for you?"
"I have a few questions..." the big man replied.
"If you have questions, I'll be happy to direct you to the City Library!" the Lone Druid said. "You can research as much as you like there!"
"It ain't like ya got a lot o' customers..." Ben observed. "Why don't we just jaw a bit?"
"I think you need to leave!" Muscles in the lone Druid's neck were beginning to jump and he was sweating profusely.
"What's got ya so nervous, Seamus?" Ben gave the man a sly smile. "Ya afraid y'r friends in th' Sons o' Purity won't like ya t' talkin' t' me?"
"Go!" the Druid exclaimed. "Just GO!"
"Why'd ya do it, Seamus?" Ben asked. "How much blood do you have on your hands, ol' Son?"
"I didn't kill ANYBODY!" Seamus screamed. "That's all the Oberdorfs doing!"
"You just showed `em which spells t' cast, right?" Ben said with a sad shake of his head. "Seamus--you've got blood on y'r hands! Innocent blood! I hope whatever they promised you was worth th' price o' your soul! That's what ya traded ol' Son..."
Seamus threw a book at Ben's head. "Get out God damnit!" he screamed. "Just get the fuck out of my store!"
END CHAPTER EIGHTEEN