CHAPTER 10
Lesion listened as Bishop went over the plans with now ten of The Twelve and Revelator from a quarter mile. He didn’t like leaving sedated subjects unattended. It was against his usual protocol but couldn’t be helped. His mind returned to The Seer and his wife. Or… not wife. Which was it? Guess time would tell real soon. Maybe after he rescued her son, she’d forgive him. Lesion again superimposed Tully and him into the scenario and couldn’t make the connection. Not the emotional ones, anyway. He understood perfectly the logical ones. Why the woman would enter the fire when it was unnecessary eluded logic. Seemed easy to see she should keep the mother-vessel safe so the child would have one after being rescued.
8-Bit sent out the drone and tagged the parameter with the surveillance cameras while ensuring everything was in order. Lesion pulled out his phone, again feeling the need to text Tully. She was in good hands with the Belle Eveque but he couldn’t help feel like she was lost without him. Maybe he was the one lost without her. What should he text was always the blockade he arrived at when contemplating.
“What the fuck?” 8-Bit muttered.
“What?” Bishop demanded.
“There’s something on the door,” 8-Bit said. “Zooming in.”
Bishop paced several feet away. “What is it?”
“A fucking note. ‘Sorry, this was not the deal we had, Ma Cherie. Maybe next time.
Raphael says hi to mommy.’
8-Bit muttered, “Holy fuck. Says, ‘P.S. I wonder if your Seeing Lover can “see” who is guarding the Swamp?”
Bishop snapped his gaze to him. “Sound the fucking Reveille Alarm.”
8 Bit quickly texted. “He could be bluffing.”
“And he could be not!” Bishop looked at Revelator. “Seer, help me out here, you see any of this shit?”
“No,” he muttered, his eyes closed in concentration. “The vision was indeed correct.” He looked at him now. “But the timing clearly wasn’t.”
Bishop turned. “Everybody back to the fucking swamp. Mobilize every Hatch. Everything and everyone on lockdown immediately.”
“Lazure and the brothers are in the chat,” 8-Bit said as Lesion quickly texted Tully, heading for his bike.
“Lazure, fucking code RAT. Burn the fires and use the war drums. Possible incoming or present infiltration. 8-Bit, you have eyes on the cameras we set up in the waterways?”
“Hawk-eyes,” he assured. “Rewind and his team are manning them. I doubled down when I knew we were leaving. If there’s any movement, we’ll know immediately. And the second I get back, I’ll download the cameras we just planted and have live feed on all movement here.”
“Good. Lazure, I’m calling Mah-Mah.”
“Roger fucking that,” he muttered. “God speed and keep the rubber side down, son.”
****
Nine land dragons tore down I-10 like rolling thunder. Bishop pushed Belle Noir to her limits and yet it wasn’t fast enough. Needing to arrive alive kept him from opening her up all the way, but at the speed he dared, he was surely testing God all while begging for mercy. Thank fuck they’d put those cameras up but having a rat was another matter. Who, was the single question burning a hole in his brain and no doubt everybody else. He hated to think Cherie, but how well did they really know her? If it was Tully that ratted, she’d done it thinking she was helping somehow. After all the hell she’d been through, somehow there wasn’t a spot of darkness in her spirit. Or they could’ve put a tracker on her. Otherwise, it was somebody close to home. Somebody Luseah had connected with. Katrina was a bitch but he didn’t think she’d jeopardize Luseah after risking everything to save her.
They needed to connect a lot of dots. Particularly, how far did Lazarus’ reach go? Who did he know? Was he connected to the fucker he’d carved a note on back at that Bastards and Bitches? Was he the lead serpent of that snake pit?
Too many bad questions needing answers.
But there was one fucking thing that needed doing that he could do. Make sure their top weaknesses were dealt with.
****
Lesion spotted Tully’s golden hair on the dock among the other women as their Swamp Dragons pulled into their respective spots. He watched her worried face searching each boat. The second she found him, her face bloomed like a flower and the sight of it scattered sparks of light in him. He jumped onto the pier and before he could worry about etiquette, she charged him like a bolt of sunshine in the night and there was no containing his laugh when her tiny body collided into his. All his worries of what to do evaporated as those tiny hands pulled his hair and her perfect mouth kissed him with “I missed you, I missed you,” gasped right into his lungs.
His body devoured every detail as his cock strained like a wild beast wanting to tear into her. He allowed his mind to imagine it as he kissed her back. Bon Dieu, such a strange and volatile power. He feared its reckless potency. And the obsession. He’d experienced it with his work but this had taken him to another world that existed right alongside everything else. Obstacles. That’s what life suddenly was. A huge obstruction, keeping him from everything he had to have without ever needing to come up for air.
“I have to meet The Twelve at the Basilique for an emergency meeting,” he finally managed at her ear, the words winded as he held her head to his shoulder. “After, I need to go to my Hatch and check on things. You’ll stay with the Belle Eveque until I return, you understand?” He petted her head, his body protesting at the words, never wanting to let go.
She nodded and put her mouth to his ear. “How long?”
“Maybe two more hours. I’ll call you. Keep your phone close.”
“I have it in the front of my overall pockets,” she whispered in his ear. “I keep it on the left. Next to my heart.”
His brain leapt with thoughts of her breasts. “Best to keep it in your back pocket. I don’t want your heart touched by the poisons electrical devices give off.”
She drew in a soft breath and he studied her innocent gaze full of admiration and trust. She gave him one of those smiles that tugged the muscles in his chest. He loved those delicate treasures. They were special. He was sure she’d never smiled them before because everything was brand new and good, better than anything she’d had. He brought those smiles. And he could bring as many as he wanted. He hugged her tightly one last time, loving that he held the power of her joy. It had him burning with a covetous hunger to bring as much of it as he could.
As he made his way to the Basilique, he touched his fingertips repeatedly, pushing back all his Tully obsessions. She had needs and he had to meet them. Everything in its due time. In proper order. His priorities were to The Twelve and she was now a part of that. Not separate. Even if her part took up ninety-nine percent of his thoughts.
“Leezayon,” Hurricane called, his grin huge as Lesion made his way to his seat with a nod. “You ready to go to war with the devil, my lil’ podnuh?”
“Every day,” Lesion, assured, finding it funny he still called him little even though he’d passed him in stature long ago. “Any news from 8-Bit on the waterways?”
“Nope,” Nitro said, locking his hands behind his head, those guns for arms loaded and ready to rip limbs off.
“How’s married life?”
The baited question came from Traps across the table. Lesion debated on bullshit or honesty. “Strange,” he decided, being as ambiguous.
“Strange,” he boomed, finding that gut splitting funny. “Tell us, Anaconda. How strange is it?”
Lesion eyed him for many seconds. “Strange like those knots you put in your beard. They’re logical constructs but the way they”re being used makes you question the sanity of the one using it.”
Even Traps found that funny, filling the room with his booming laughter.
“Are you saying she”s making you crazy already?” Spar asked with a huge grin.
Again he weighed the question. “Maybe. And yet I feel like a genius.” He regarded the amount of fun they were having at his expense, nodding. “Guess you”ll all have your own answers soon enough.”
Spook and Shank walked in. “Who let you riff-raff into the room?” Shank demanded, taking his seat to the left of Lesion while Spook got the one on his right.
“I see your lady-killing grin is still one hundred,” Lesion joked, slapping his palm against Shank’s for his infamous hand-jiving handshake. Lesion had memorized it over the years, compliments of his obsession to detail.
“Leezayon was just telling us how marriage life was strange,” Traps informed.
The rest of The Twelve walked in with Bishop announcing, “For one, Lesion’s not yet technically married to Tully.” He sat at the head of the long table. “Nor am I technically married to Beth and Spook isn’t technically married to Maggie or Revelator to Cherie.” He looked around at all of them. “I can tell you onefucking thing,” he said with his index finger up. “If I was my worst enemy, I would hit where it hurt the most. I don’t need to tell any of you where we’re most vulnerable.”
Lesion shifted in his seat, wondering uneasily where he was going with this.
“You changing your mind on the celibacy laws?” Spar wondered, maybe hoped.
“Hell no,” Eveque muttered, turning his dark eyes on him. “But if you recall, we amended the right-hand rules. If our women choose to be right hand, we have say over what they do and don’t do in times of war.”
“So you’re saying you don’t have that right until you’re legally or technically married,” 8-Bit said.
“Correct,” Eveque said, sounding pissed about it. “First order of business—we make shit official. Revelator will become the official Seer of The Twelve. The men will officially marry their wives and then they will have to officially decide what position they want—right hand wife or just wife.”
“Then we won’t have to worry about them being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” 8-Bit said, getting full agreement from the rest of them.
“Well, that’s the idea,” Eveque said, getting their attention as he looked at all of them. “I’d love to think that these women would just…lay the fuck down like a good submissive, but I’m not stupid. They’re fighters down in their bones, and I fuckinglove that, every day of the week, but not this fucking week with Lucifer leaving us love notes about the fucking rat we obviously have. I’m about to get to that next.” He raked his hand through his hair, his jaw working as he looked at the table. “If the women choose right hand and we tell them to lay low, they may do that this week for this war, but what about the next?” He regarded them. “What about when Maggie thinks Beth is at risk and goes ape-shit doing what she thinks needs doing? You saw her on that fucking Bat-tie field. Spook, tell us how easy it was to stop her?”
He shook his head, gaze on the table. “She’s fast. Especially when she’s furious. She’s got gifts that rival mine and some that surpass.” He eyed all of them. “There ain’t no law that would keep her on any straight and narrow if she thought anybody was in danger that she cared about.”
“Well, then that won’t work,” Traps said. “If there ain’t no law that’ll keep ‘em down.”
“Think of it like a fucking straight jacket, brother,” Eveque said. “It don’t stop shit from happening but it does help contain any eruptions that do.”
“I’m officially confused as fuck,” Patches said, leaning heavily back in his chair. “We marry, we don’t marry? What?”
“He doesn’t want them serving as right hand,” Spar helped.
“What’s the difference?” Bacon muttered. “Sounds like no matter how they serve they’ll only be subservient if they want to.”
“The difference is a smaller pile of shit at our doors,” Bishop said.
“So it’d be less shit-stormy if they chose to just be a wife,” Hurricane said. “How you gonna manage that if you can’t sway?”
Eveque took his time eyeing each of them. “Three things must happen to make their decision legit. An official marriage to one of The Twelve—which includes consummation I needed to remind you. Them officially choosing or not choosing to serve. And passing the Gauntlet Trials,” he finished, that last item revealing what his angle was.
“So if they fail the trials, then they’re just wives,” Nitro said.
“The less say they have in The Twelve business,” Eveque said delicately, “the less shit we have to deal with.”
“What about the whole celibacy thing then?” Bacon asked. “That changing any at all?”
Bishop’s headshake was slow and firm. “That was already officialized.”
“So who’ll run that if your Belle Eveque doesn’t do it?” Patches wondered getting Bishops pointed stare.
“Her name starts with Ma and ends with Ma.”
They all chuckled at that. “That’d make her wild cupid dreams come true,” Shank said.
“And she can invite any existing wife she wants to help her with that,” Bishop added with innocent raised hands.
Spar’s head shook slowly.
“What?” Eveque asked him.
“Pretty sure your Belle Eveque has her heart set on that job.”
“Well, when you get a wife, you’ll understand why I have to fucking try, brother.”
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t try. I’m saying she’s gonna fight for it. And if she’s got half the spunk as her sister…” he shook his head.
“Since we’re short on time with multiple weddings in the que,” 8-Bit said. “I think we’ll have to do The Gauntlet Trials differently.”
Eveque looked at him. “How so?”
“All at once?” He looked around the table. “A single team of wives?”
“And what good would that do?” Eveque asked, hopeful.”
“If they’re all required to win, then one weak link is all you need.”
“They’d be unable to leave no man—or woman,” Spook corrected, “behind, in that case.”
“So one weak link would diminish their chances of succeeding.”
They were all agreeing so far. Pre-Tully days would’ve had Lesion full of objections. Now, he was already dreaming up fair ways to make sure they all failed without violating rules.
“Well, no matter what we do, it’ll all come down to the roll of the Gauntlet Dice,” Bacon reminded. “Fate will decide what happens.”
“And how the hell is that supposed to work with a team of…four,” Spook wondered.
“They’d have to pick a leader,” Eveque said.
“Maybe they roll the Fate Dice to determine that?” Traps suggested.
“We’re making this up as we go,” Bacon muttered, shaking his head.
“Little Piggy,” Patches scolded. “It is new fucking territory.”
“I’m open to ideas,” Eveque offered with a toss of his hands at them. “You tell me.”
“If they roll the Fate Dice, then so should we,” The Seer said. “We have no need to fear fate.”
Lesion watched Eveque as he stared at The Seer. “Guess this can be your first act as Seer of The Twelve,” Eveque said then pointed a finger at him. “Shit goes south, I know where you live.”
The Seer looked at him for many seconds with a grin. “Accepted, little Bishop.”
Eveque looked around at them. “Who agrees we use the Fate Dice to decide these things new to the ways of The Twelve?”
Lesion waited for his turn and gave his “Aye,” with the rest of them.
“The Ayes have it,” Eveque announced, standing. “We Let the Fate Dice roll. We consummate marriages. We make decisions official.” He pressed a pointer finger on the table with each item. “And while we prepare for the Gauntlet Trials…” He looked at each of them, his eyes lighting up Lesion’s adrenalin. “We hunt us a fucking rat.”