Chapter 2
Deejay
Killing the citizen of another realm requires some politicking and the best way to deal with it is by taking an offensive stance. The Sirens fall under the rule of the Triton King, Primus, who rarely bothers to come to the surface, but still needs to know that one of his citizens invaded another domain and died for it.
So, after Matt goes to bed, I call the proprietor of the Houston Hub, Loretta Long, a longtime acquaintance of mine. She helped me establish my domain and has thus far offered her unwavering support of the Demesne D’Aquino. I would consider her a friend, except that I know her priorities do not allow for loyal friendships. I like her and hold a deep respect for her because she has managed to create and maintain the most powerful Hub in the western hemisphere while also remaining fair to the non-humans who depend on her for protection. She puts the safety and security of non-humans above everything, though she does demand quite the pretty penny for her protection. The Houston Hub of the Non-Human Community is a business. If you have the means to pay, she will exact payment for her services, if you don’t, you will work it off. She has a job for anyone in need of one, which is another reason she has earned and maintains the loyalty of the residents under her purview: she provides the means for non-humans to live in the ever-evolving human world, while maintaining and protecting the secrecy of the non-human world.
“Deejay Aquino.”
The voice that greets me isn’t Loretta’s, she’s both deaf and mute, but rather the voice of her Mattatron, a species of telepaths that work specifically as interpreters for both differently-abled non-humans, and those in need of their linguistic services. It’s likely that eventually Kendall will employ a Mattatron when he comes into his full powers because most telepaths lose either their voice or hearing, and a particularly powerful one will lose both.
“Hello, Loretta,”
I greet her; though I am hearing the Mattatron’s voice, I am talking to the woman. “I need your courier services. The Triton King Primus has invaded my demesne and I require reparations for an assault on one of my citizens and the death of his Siren. Please send me a courier that can run messages between us tomorrow.”
There’s a significant pause before Loretta answers. “You really know how to stir the pot, don’t you? Do you expect this to become a civil suit or to expand into an all-out war?”
“I do not expect a war.”
I actually expect the Triton King to ignore me, but he might take an interest. He’s pretty staid about staying in Atlantis, but occasionally something will spark his interest enough to come to the surface—I genuinely doubt a dead Siren will spark that much interest.
“Let me know if things change. I would like the chance to arbitrate a peace accord before you bring us to war.”
“That’s fair,” I agree.
“Alright. Expect your courier around noon,”
she informs me. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Nothing at the moment, thank you, Loretta.”
“You’re welcome. Call me anytime.”
I assure her that I will if I have need and end the call.
I type out and send an email to my second oldest son, Fraser, who’s only a few years younger than me. I adopted him after he was an adult, but he’s always supported my life’s mission. He’s a lawyer who typically deals with family court, but I use him as I need him for formal complaints from me as a ruler to the rulers of other species, kingdoms, and realms. He will draw up a formal letter of complaint for me that I can send along with the courier to the Triton King.
With that done, I head up to the master suite on the third floor, checking in on the babies in the nursery just down the hall from my room, before going to bed. My days always start early and end late, but this is the life I’ve chosen, and I have zero regrets.