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Chapter -8- Heart of the Lion

Friday, August 5, 2049 - Noonish Rafah (Al'Awda), Border of Egypt and Gaza ...

"Please," begged the man."You do not understand, we are resisting like, like Charles de Gaulle, and like ... Winston Churchill. Like George Washington. We resist the Israeli occupation. We resist Fatah. They attacked us; we protected ourselves. We earned this right. We are respectful of all religions, so long as they respect us!"

Sekhmet held the man up against the wall and snarled in his face. The woman's figure was lithe and effeminate, but she had raw power, able to pin him to the wall against a torn green Palestinian flag.

Her head, however, was that of a lioness. She opened her joules, baring her fangs. "Now the time is at hand for the return of power to Ra."

"Why are you attacking me?! The criminal Zionist scum forces us to defend ourselves. Our resistance cannot afford to squander even one drop of its sons' blood! The occupation is adamant about these continued transgressions of..."

"I do not care!" Sekhmet erupted. "Have you any last words, little man?"

The Palestinian figurehead swallowed. He'd heard about this creature on the news and never believed it. But now she was here, cutting a swath through the Islamic community from the heart of Giza to the border of Gaza, and she was every bit as fearsome as the media made her sound. He took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs. "Allah is the most great! The pride belongs to Islam!"

Sekhmet sang her fangs into his throat, bit down hard, and jerked her head left and right, breaking his neck and crushing his windpipe in one fell swoop. She dropped him to the ground, watching him suffer for a moment, then she leaned down and finished the job, using her teeth to end his misery.

The lion-headed woman stood up and looked around the square. Women in niqab face veils had horrified eyes. Other women in the simpler hijab headscarf appeared just as terrified.

She even saw one women wearing jeans. Sekhmet cut her gaze to a man with a camera on his shoulder. She licked her fangs and roared at him. He backed away quickly but kept the lens on her.

"Let it be known," she exclaimed, "That now is the time for the return of Ra! I have cleared a path across northern Egypt. Some call it a path of devastation! I call it a path of righteousness! Any who stand in my way will die. But Hathor is also a protector of women. Your Sharia law means if you are disabled or a widow, you suffer! A widow loses custody of her children when her son reaches the age of nine, or when her daughter becomes eleven! Yet this society sends its men to die for political agendas, with the promise of milk, honey and virgins to him! No one protects the women!"

No one cheered for Sekhmet's small speech. Instead, these women still appeared horrified of what she'd done.

The woman wearing jeans looked at the dead man on the ground then back to Sekhmet. She licked her lips and, in a somewhat nervous voice, said, "Then by killing that man, you've doomed his wife to lose her children. You granted no favor, oh 'protector of women.' Leave us alone."

"I am proof," Sekhmet replied with a guttural snarl, then continued, "women can be fierce. Women can be warriors. Women can lead a charge, and stand over the bodies of men if they choose! We can lead! We can rule! Pharaohs have quietly asked the advice of their wives for generations! Some women are more capable than others, but you should join me in fighting for the ones that have the courage and strength to bring about a better world! You should stand up for your right to education! For your right to parent! For your right to speak without public shaming! For your right to comfort!"

Oddly, no one in the square cheered. Sekhmet grimaced and shook her head. "You are already beaten. But your daughters will understand. Just remember that with regime change comes the hope for peace, and with hope comes the possibility of safety enjoyed by first world countries across the globe. It is in these worlds where women are safe to raise their children without persecution."

The woman in the jeans looked back at the dead man on the ground. "The person you killed was someone's husband; someone's father! He did not persecute us. He did not persecute me! At least not directly! Go home to Egypt, lion women. I beg of you. Cut your swath elsewhere! Stay in Egypt! Hamas keep drugs and corruption off of our streets! They ban things that come from Egypt and Israeli companies that aim to destroy young Palestinian men!"

Sekhmet glared at the woman in the jeans then looked back down at the dead man slumped in front of the torn green flag. "Very well. Suffering is all you know, so you'll fight to cling to it. But you will see Egypt return to greatness under the watchful eye of Ra. And soon you will yearn for a better, cleaner, safer way of life. You will be jealous of Egypt, but I will welcome you to join when that time comes."

"Then stop telling us about it and show us. Go home, and show us from there," the woman said. She sat down on a crate and rubbed her face in frustration from the stress.

Sekhmet glanced down at a plank open on the side of the crate. Inside were white bags of flour from the UN. One of them had a Japanese flag and, in blue English lettering, read, 'From the people of Japan.' Her thoughts briefly turned to Tamamo-no-Mae, a kitsune deity she aided in escaping the Celestial Realm.

The lion-goddess lifted her feline gaze to the woman sitting on the crate then she cast one last glance to the dead man against the wall.

The woman in the jeans frowned. "Please, just go. The police will be here soon. They will bring soldiers."

"A comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there." Sekhmet turned about and walked west, back the way from which she came - towards Cairo.

X

X

Friday, August 5, 2049 - late morning Biloxi, Mississippi ...

Albert DeLioncourt waded through ankle-deep water in the back hallway of what was once a waterfront restaurant. He withdrew a photograph from his back pocket and wedged it behind the top left corner of the time clock mounted to the wall. Albert dialed in the last six digits of his social security number then placed his fingertip against a gold-colored sensor plate.

The time clock displayed his last name, first initial, and his punch time.

A woman, further up the hall, nodded with a polite smile. "Happy birthday, Al. How old are you today?"

"Fifty one," he lied with a slight grin. He always kept a polite tone with the boss's wife.

She came down the hall, walking into the ankle-deep floodwater and glanced at the photograph wedged into the corner with the time clock. "Oh, who is this little cutie?"

"That's my first grand-baby. She was born a few days ago. My daughters both live up north. I don't really get to see either of them, and I haven't met the baby yet, but I downloaded her picture off the internet from my oldest kid's profile page."

"Isn't that just precious?" The woman smiled again, adding, "Have a great birthday, Al." She headed back up the back hall.

"Yeah, you too, Deloris."

Albert headed into an intersecting hall and made his way out to the lobby and started pulling trash bags. He tied them off, and collected the group, then carried them out to the back and threw them up into the dumpster. He made his way back inside and went through opening procedures to clean the front of the restaurant.

A Mexican man came into the kitchen from the other end. "Hola, Alberto. Feliz cumpleaños, senior."

"Hey, Miguel. Thanks." Albert reached for a metal mesh and used it to scrape down the grilling surface. "Looks like the flood water is almost out of the back hall. You heard from your family in New Orleans?"

"No, senior. The news says Louisiana may not recover from last month's tsunami. I'm going to go and pour the sanitation chemicals in the back hall. Oh! I saw your picture," said the Miguel, pronouncing the word like, 'pix-chur.' "That is your little nieta?"

"Yeah. She's about a week old. Haven't met her yet, but I will soon."

"You know how the boss rides your cojones, senior? I dun think it's a very good idea to post that by the time clock. You want me to take it down and bring it to you?"

Albert smirked. "The boss is going to be mad about the fact we ran out of bread during yesterday's rush. I was supposed to order it the week of the flood, but they evacuated the coast and that shit slipped my mind. He'll be mad about that, and I'll be ready for it. But if he says a damn thing about my picture, he can suck my cock."

Miguel chuckled, shook his head, and lifted a bucket of sanitizing solution. He carried it out of the kitchen and into the back hall to dump into the flood waters, to keep it from attracting pests.

Albert went back to scrubbing the grill, using both hands to apply firm pressure to the metallic mesh. For the first time in years, he felt younger now than he did in the past fifteen years. His metabolism was going up. His body and mind felt stronger. Despite all the hardships he'd endured in the past few years, Albert felt like he was on top of his game for the first time in ages.

He finished cleaning the grill, glanced at the clock on the wall, and put filters into the coffee makers. He ripped off the single serving packets of caffeinated and decaffeinated coffee, poured them into the top of the coffee makers, and pressed a start button on the machine.

He wiped down the counter, turned on the register and the lights to the menu boards.

From behind, he heard the voice of the general manager. "DeLioncourt. Happy birthday. Fifty-seven today, huh? We need to talk about the bread thing yesterday. And that picture back by the time clock ... is that yours?"

"Yes, sir, my first granddaughter, Mr. Jones."

"Get rid of that stuff. You know the rules. If I let one person start posting junk, everyone will start posting junk. Keep it neat and sparse. I'm gonna go find Deloris and have her finish prepping the kitchen to open. Meet me in my office." Jones walked out of the kitchen.

Albert grimaced, eyes narrowed. He headed for the back hallway where Miguel and Deloris were having a conversation, her in broken Spanish, and him in full-on Español. Albert walked over to the punch clock and snatched the photograph off the wall. He spied a nearby trashcan and dropped the picture into it then started back up the hallway.

"Albert!" Deloris gave Miguel a gentle touch on the shoulder to bow out of their conversation then she followed Albert up the hallway and took the picture out of the trashcan. "What are you doing?? This is your first grandchild!"

"Yeah? And now it's trash," said Albert with a shrug of indifference. "No big deal."

She tilted her head with incomprehension. "No, no, you can't do this. It's your first..."

Albert snatched the photograph out of her hands, ripped it into several pieces, and dropped them into the trash. "I just did. Your husband needs you to finish prepping the kitchen." He walked back up the hall and through the door at the end. He made a right, walked up the next hall and stepped into Mr. Jones office then sat down in the chair, arms folded.

A few minutes later, Jones stepped into the office and turned on the lights. He sat down on the opposite side of the desk and switched on his desktop computer. "Did you take care of that crap by the time clock."

"I did," Albert replied, keeping his tone theatrically stoic, almost monotone.

"Are you being condescending with me, DeLioncourt?"

"I'm answering your question, Mr. Jones."

"Whatever. So what the hell happened with the bread yesterday?"

"The order was never made on the day of the tsunami. It slipped my mind when we got back to work a few days later. So we ran out last night. I substituted wraps for bread, and large lettuce as a substitute for pita wraps, so that we wouldn't run out of those to use for the bread. We got by. Sales were up twelve percent for the night."

"I don't care if sales were up. We ran out of bread. You forgot to order it. Getting tired of your shit, Al. How about you stop with the attitude. Y'know what? I have a better idea. You need to earn your wages. You're already making three dollars more than minimum wage. What, is that not enough? I think it's pretty goddamn fair. Tell you what, I'm going to put you on probation, just like a new hire."

"I thought probation makes minimum wage?"

"They do. For six months."

"You're cutting my pay by three bucks an hour for six months? I can barely afford my rent, and my back-pay child support as it is."

Jones snorted as if amused. "You still pay child support? I thought your kids are grown."

"She filed back-support for herself when she was seventeen. I've gotta pay..."

"I don't care what you pay," Jones interrupted. "You either take the pay cut for six months, or you find another idiot who will put up with you. You make just as much as Miguel, now. And he works just as hard as you. I don't see how it's unfair."

Albert stood up.

Jones folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Get back out there and finish up your shift. By the way, you're off tomorrow."

Albert furrowed his brows. "I work Tuesday through Saturday."

"Well, right now, I need you just three days a week. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. So you're off tomorrow. I'll find someone to cover tomorrow's shift for you, so stop worrying about it."

Albert headed for the office door.

"Oh, and happy birthday, DeLioncourt. Now get back to work."

Albert walked back up the hallway, made a left at the door, headed down the back hall, and stopped in front of the punch clock. He punched back out, placed his finger on the sensor plate then sloshed the rest of the way down the hall to the back exit. He shoved the metal fire-door open, causing more flood water to gush into the back hall, then crossed the back lot, as a short cut to the closest bus stop.

The flood water became shallower at the end of the rear parking lot. He climbed over a guard rail and made his way across a highway then dropped down onto a bench at a bus stop. Just as he sat down, a bus pulled up and opened its doors.

"Finally, something's going right for once," he said softly and boarded the bus. He showed the driver his day pass then dropped down into one of the empty seats on the left-hand side. The bus pulled away from the stop and headed back towards the residential district.

The driver turned up the radio, listening to a news report. "Just two hours ago, this graphic footage was posted to YouTube of a woman, apparently wearing a realistic-styled lion mask, who ripped out the throat of a Palestinian spokesman. The woman is seen having a brief conversation with local residents in the street, but she retreats before local authorities arrived. Again, this attack was at the Gaza-Egypt border. The attacker allegedly fits the description of a terrorist cult blamed for recent attacks that have now stretched from Giza to Gaza in just a matter of days. It's said these persons are dressed as one of the old Egyptian deities who, over the past few years, has enjoyed a religious resurgence in the face of Islamic Egypt. People have been walking the streets claiming the return of this, ah, deity. Next up is traffic - it's currently eight-six degrees, and going up to ninety-two today."

The radio played a commercial for auto insurance, with the speaker voice simulating some sort of dialect. Albert couldn't decide if it sounded more British or Australian. He also didn't really care. He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms with a grin. "I hear that Egyptian terrorist cell, or whatever they are, has been terrorizing Muslims. Is that right?"

The bus driver called back, "That's what they're saying, man."

Albert smirked. "Good. I don't care who they are - if they're attacking Muslims, they're _okay_by me."

"That's kind of shallow, man. No offense."

Al shrugged with indifference. "So? I'm allowed to have an opinion. You're allowed to have an opinion about my opinion, and I'm allowed to have one about you being judgmental. I say GOOD - I hope this terrorist kills every damn Muslim down there."

The driver shook his head somewhat and rolled his eyes. "Okay, buddy. That's not a very Christian thing to say."

"Free country. I can hate on Islam all I want. And I never said I was a good Christian, either. This country was founded on the freedom of religion. Yet all everyone ever wants to do is convert every-damn-person to their way of thinking and praying. Christians, Muslims, whatever - they want to convert everyone. And if you don't see things their way, they judge you or stone you in the streets, or treat you like shit, or go out of their way to push you out of your job until you have no choice but to quit. Boss invited me to his church last Sunday. I refused. All this week, he's made my life a living hell. So I just quit today. Fuck religion."

"Alright, buddy. Calm down. We have women on this bus."

"Yeah, so?" Albert glared out the window. "Don't worry. I'll get off at the next stop and walk the rest of the way home. You don't have to deal with my redneck shit anymore. And I don't have to listen to your asshole religious rhetoric anymore. So everyone's happy."

"Sir I never said..."

"Just whatever. Drop me at the next stop. I'll walk."

"Sir, you don't have to walk all the way to the residential part of town. It's three miles and the humidity is just starting to pick up. It's going to be..."

"Whatever. You think I can't walk three miles in the heat? I lived in Florida before the quake. I know heat." Albert paused, and then said, "How about we both just shut up until the next stop?"

"Fine." The bus driver turned the radio back up just as the traffic report started.

X

X

August 5, 2049 - mid-morning San Francisco, California ...

Conner Nevada closed the mailbox and walked up the path towards his home. He glanced sidelong at his uncle, James Parker, then looked down at a letter in his hands. Conner thumbed it open and withdrew paperwork from the envelope.

"What'cha got there?" James' voice was soft. He reached down and traced his fingers over the stitches in his lower back with a wince.

"My official name-change paperwork. I'm officially a Parker once I sign this paper and turn it in. You'll have to be my acting legal guardian because my parents, well, yeah. God knows where they are." He skimmed the legalities on the page then folded up the paperwork and pushed it back into the envelope. "There's supposed to be a bunch of people here."

"Like who?" asked James. He held his wrist towards Conner. "You mind?"

Conner ripped the laminated hospital bracelet from his uncle's wrist. "Well, there's Rufus. Rumor has it, he can turn into a werewolf. I've never seen it, but after seeing some pretty wild stuff over the past month, I'm almost ready to believe anything at this point. Rufus brought a guy named Kalen Kincade. He's supposed to be a vampire. Then there's Karla, she's a succubus."

"Wait, like a sex demon? So, you've got The Munsters living at your house? Vampires, werewolves, demons ... sounds a bit weird, huh?"

Conner flashed a smile of amusement. "When you put it all like that, yeah. We've also got some guy named Reno. He's Vincent's brother, so that makes him my father's lover's brother or, well, whatever."

Jaye nodded, remembering the name. "Reno, right. And Vincent was the guy you thought was your father?"

"Exactly. I know, it's complicated as hell. Sorry about all that. Anyway there's a guy named Wilfred here - he was Reno's friend twenty-five years ago. Uhm, I think that's everyone."

"What about Sinopa and Tamamo?"

Conner frowned. "They're still in Japan for some reason. How's Dawn?" Conner licked his lips, "Did you tell her about your, uh, stint in the hospital?"

"I haven't told her yet. Didn't want to worry her. She needs to be surrounded by normalcy. I need to get home to her, though. If you could help me out with getting back to Chicago, I'd really appreciate that."

Conner walked up the front steps and slid an old fashion key into the deadbolt lock between the two large front doors. He opened the one on the right and held it for his uncle. "That's not a problem. Thanks for signing that paperwork, by the way. I kind of feel bad that I dropped the whole thing in your lap while you were recovering at the hospital."

James stepped in first and turned around in the foyer. "Well you needed a legal family member there due to being a minor, and a DNA test to prove family ties. I couldn't refuse. You don't have anyone else."

"Yeah. Still, you took a knife in the lungs. Goddamn Joe Pendleton. If he wasn't a family member I would have ripped him apart, I swear. I'm just glad for modern medical technology. A hundred years ago, that stab might have been fatal." Conner closed the door behind himself and locked it. He pocketed his key and turned back to his uncle. "I feel like such a tool. The first time I met you two, I told you that a woman was murdered right here where we're standing."

James side-stepped and nodded in remembrance. "Yeah, that was kind of awkward. Still is, actually." He looked down at his hand, fidgeting with the hospital bracelet Conner ripped off for him. He eased it into his pocket and sighed, glad to be able to do so. "I couldn't breathe after it happened. I'll not take breathing for granted ever again, heh. And ... yeah, sorry. Kind of off track. Mind is swimming." Jaye glanced back at the spot in front of the door. "Right there where we just stood, huh?"

"Yeah. So anyway, sorry for that. I know I come off as weird sometimes. I just want you to know I appreciate you coming out here to help me with this. Dawn is always welcome to stay with you if she wants to come out at any point."

"When she's ready, I'll let you know."

Conner crossed the foyer and headed down a hallway towards the kitchen with his uncle behind him. "Did you ever hear anything about your mom or stepdad?"

James frowned, immediately uncomfortable with the topic. "I had to lodge a formal complaint to get answers from the Government. Apparently, my stepfather is 'missing but presumed alive.' They, uh, base their theory on the fact there is no reason for anyone to want him dead, and that there's no signs of 'foul play.' It's frustrating. Nobody knows what happened to them. It's getting to the point where I just want answers for the sake of closure or something."

"I'm sorry you're going through this," Conner said. "First your folks are missing, then your fiancée winds up possessed - sorry about that by the way, and now you were stabbed. At least you're right now right?"

"What's that saying? More money more problems?" Jaye added a weak grin. "No, seriously, though, you're the reason I'm handling it," James explained. "You're going through the same thing, and you're eleven years younger than me. And you're handling it really well, Conner." James held his hand up. "One sec." He took a moment to breathe, as though he had a cramp or was in some sort of pain."

"You really should have stayed in the hospital one more day."

"I didn't like the smell." Jaye willed himself to relax. "Anyway, the more I think about all the people you've seen disappear, the more I'm starting to think that my parents simply went into hiding so as to avoid being next. The thing I can't understand is why they'd do it without me, or why they wouldn't tell me."

Conner opened the fridge and started to rummage through the shelves, looking for something to eat. "Maybe they know you're like me, and you can handle yourself. Maybe by going into hiding, they give you plausible deniability."

"Or maybe someone went after them _because_of what I can do, like that Pendleton nutjob. Or maybe they found out what I am and they're afraid of me."

Conner pulled a bin forward and sighed in frustration. "Nobody filled up the fruit bin. God that's gay."

"C'mon, man, don't be homophobic."

"I'm not. I picked that up from Vincent, and he's apparently half-way there. No harm done; it's just an expression. A hundred years ago, it meant happy, heh. Funny how stuff changes." Conner opened the freezer and withdrew a package on the third shelf. "Look, real bovine meat. Have you ever seen real beef before? Let alone a steak?"

"Yeah, of course." James paused, reaching around to the itchy wound. "Right, I keep forgetting you're a teenager and you've never seen the way the world was up until recently. Do you even eat meat or are you a vegan?"

"Of course I eat meat. Just not from a live animal. Meat is grown genetically, and created for consumption. Why would anyone want to grow an animal and slaughter it nowadays?"

A voice came from behind. "Because it tastes different."

Conner and Jaye turned away from the fridge to face a man with short black hair. Conner recognized the man from the coma back in Paris. "You're Reno. My mother's husband's brother."

"That makes me your mother's brother in law, which makes me your uncle by marriage," said Reno.

Conner pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right, yeah, okay. Sorry. So, Uncle Reno." He gestured to James. "This is my other uncle, James. He's Fara and Jonathan's son." Conner pushed the freezer door shut.

Reno approached James and took his hand. "I was engaged to Jonathan's little sister, your aunt Nichole. Jon considered me semi-family. Shame you never got to meet him. He was a serious guy, but he was a good man, and made some of the best micro-brewed beer I've ever had."

James was eager to shake the man's hand but kept it brief. "I appreciate that, Mr. Nevada." He put on a façade, trying to be manly despite the pain of his itchy injury.

"Christ, just Reno. Hell, legally I'm now listed as Nathanial Carrington. Named after some friend Karla knew years ago. So, aren't you supposed to have a girlfriend with you?"

James rubbed his thumb and forefinger together with a half-hearted shrug. He could feel the tug against the stitches, further down on his lower torso. "She's not ready for all this stuff. I told her I was coming out here to help Conner with his name change, but she encouraged me to stay and finish training with Conner. I'm told it's going to be important."

Reno nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It is. So I hear you're a natural."

James chuckled somewhat. "I guess. I disarmed a gunner after diving out a window from several stories up without realizing I was doing it. It all came natural. I, uh ... I guess that makes me a natural. Sorry, I'm repeating myself. So ... what is it that you do?"

Reno grinned impishly. He held his hands out, side by side, and created a glowing arc of electricity between his palms. The bolt glowed bright. After a few seconds, it crackled, creating a light shower of sparks, which fizzled out on the floor. The bolt danced about, writhing wildly in the gap between his hands. "That answer your question?"

James swallowed and nodded. It was like something out of a fantasy world or comic book. "I have to ask, but the one guy that's here ... is he really a werewolf?"

"You bet your ass he's a werewolf," Reno laughed. "A legit old-school Hollywood horror-movie werewolf with claws, fangs, and everything else. It's pretty wild."

James glanced at his nephew then back at Reno, and said, "So, basically, what you're telling me is that this mansion is probably one of the most secure locations in the world right now, aside from Fort Knox or something. Right?"

Reno nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess that's pretty accurate."

"But we're way more badass than lighting," said Conner, gesturing to himself and Jaye with a grin. "Lighting homes in on its target, but we're indoors and would have time to react faster than Uncle Reno, here, could hit me with it."

"Actually," said Nevada with a sly smirk, "First of all, you're wrong - I can conjure it from my hands, not just from the sky. Secondly, I don't need lightning to take you down, kiddo."

Conner smirked as well. "Oh yeah? How so?"

"I can superheat the air so that it creates deafening thunder."

James furrowed his brows. "What's that do?" He glanced at his nephew, who appeared somewhat humbled. "What?"

Conner offered a nod of respect to Reno. "You win." He turned to James and said, "Uncle Jaye, our ability weighs heavily on balance. A sonic attack would rob us of our equilibrium briefly. If ... and that's a big if ... if he saw us coming, he could create a blast of thunder and we'd likely stumble."

James rubbed his chin. "Damn. That's impressive. And a bright enough arc of electricity would blind us. Can't do much if we're stunned ... like from a flashbang."

Conner glanced back at Reno. "But you'd blind yourself, too, if you did that."

Reno offered a hauntingly devious smile and his eyes glowed in a way that was plainly unnatural. Upon closer inspection, electricity danced in his pupils, making them white as well. "Not if I'm the one creating the flash. Doesn't have any effect on me."

"That ... is impressive," James whispered. He cleared his throat then asked, "How do you do that without melting your eyes?"

"Hell if I know." Reno's gaze dimmed to normal. "I'm not a scientist. I'm just some asshole who knows how to bullshit people and throw lightning. I used to be a cop, but that gig is over."

James tilted his head. "You were a cop? And friends with my father?"

"I was homicide. I didn't care about unproven rumors. I mean, sure, I know you guys are master thieves, now, but that wasn't my division, and there's no way to prove you guys are guilty of any crime."

Conner grinned. "Because we don't leave evidence."

"I would," said James. "I'm not experienced with that stuff. Besides, I'm not a fan of stealing things. So, do I get to meet everyone else?"

Reno shrugged. "I don't know who else is awake. I think Kalen is around here somewhere. He might be in bed by now. He's a bit of a night-owl."

"So I've heard," James replied with a nod.

Conner asked, "Is Karla around? I wanted to touch base with her, and see if she's heard anything from Sinopa or Tamamo."

"Yeah, kiddo." Reno gestured upwards with a finger. "She's upstairs. I, uh, think she has her period or something. She's got that whole, 'leave me alone' look when I saw her last. And she wasn't her usual chatty-self. You've been warned."

"Thanks," said Conner. "What guest room is she in?"

"The first big room on the right. Rufus is staying in the one at the end of the hall on the first floor."

Conner turned to James. "That's the one you and Dawn stayed it last time you were here."

"Oh, right, I remember." James reached down and ran his fingers over his shirt, tracing his fingertip over the feel of the stitches, beneath the fabric.

Reno tapped his chin in thought then rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his whiskers. "Kalen is in the room to the right of Rue's room. Wilfred is upstairs near my room, which is at the end of the hallway from where Karla is saying. I'm gonna do a power-walk thing."

Conner shook his head. "I still can't believe you're up and walking around after being in a coma since, like, February or whatever."

"I get by. I just ride the lightning. I heal fast."

"Incidentally," James started. He tilted his head, then asked, "Can you?"

Reno grinned. "You mean like this?" And without another word, he dissolved into a bolt of lightning, which raced out of the kitchen, disappearing down the hall. The room smelled slightly as if something was on fire, but the scent dissipated after a few seconds.

In the distance, the two boys heard the front door open then close with a muffled thump.

Conner rubbed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I, uh ... I didn't know he could do all that."

"Yeah, that's pretty impressive," James added. "I can't believe I'm apart of all this stuff." He immediately winced, comfortable enough around Conner to let his true expression show. "You got any pain killers that won't make me groggy?"

"Welcome to The Munsters, Uncle Jaye." Conner licked his lips. "I, uh ... I can fry a laptop from across the room, but I can't teleport as a bolt of lightning. Not going to lie, I'm a little jealous of that one. And yeah, Tylenol and Advil. The usual stuff."

"I can't wait to see my first werewolf." James offered his nephew a grin then turned back to the fridge and opened it again. "I think I saw eggs on the top shelf. I make a pretty awesome omelet." He reached up and snagged a container of eggs. "I really could use rapid healing as an ability - I think I'm in shock. Worst pun in my life, but, I mean ... Jesus, I just saw a man turn into a bolt of lightning. What the hell do you say to something like that?"

"I have no idea," Conner murmured softly. "I, uh ... I like cheese on mine. It's up top. I'll let today be my cheat day for this kind of food." After a brief pause, he added, "I think I'm right there with you on the werewolf thing. I want to see it."

"Right on." James reached for the cheese and a few other ingredients, mindful to use his left hand so as not to stretch his stitches. "Werewolves are pretty damn cool. I definitely want to see that. I've got high expectations."

"Yeah, same here."

"So what's the first thing you're going to do with all these powerful new friends, and the genetic test that proves you're related to the Parker family?"

"Go to Japan and find my girlfriend. Obviously." Conner shrugged a bit. "Then we'll get Karla to help us retrieve this headdress that Tamamo asked me to find."

"What's the deal behind that anyways?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure if I want to have anything to do with Egypt right now. An artifact is one thing but ... it's been all over the news; that new terrorist cult group or whatever. They're killing extremists - the worst of the worst. It's kind of like RAID cockroach spray, you know? Cockroaches are supposed to be able to survive nuclear fallout, so what the hell is in the can?"

"How do you mean, Conner?"

"I mean, how are we supposed to go up against people that are successfully killing off the worst, most dangerous people in the Greater Middle East? I don't want to have anything to do with that. And I have a feeling this headdress has something to do with Egypt. Call it a gut feeling. But let's worry about one thing at a time at this point. I'll get Tamamo back from Japan, wherever she is. So ... how about that omelet?"

"Coming right up ... incidentally, how do you plan to find her? It's a crowded country."

Conner shrugged. "We go over there and follow Kuda."

"We're going to follow a tiny little animal? Seriously?"

"Serious as a heart attack, Uncle Jaye."

"You've only seen that little thing twice, and both times it ran away almost right after helping you."

"Yeah, that's the part I have to figure out. I think I'll figure it out once I get to Japan. Lately, things have had a strange way of falling into place."

James closed the fridge and started hunting for dishes to make breakfast. "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be the longest weekend of my life?"

"It doesn't have to be. I'll fly you home to Chicago so you can be with Dawn."

"And heal. But you're right, the injury is one thing. But she wants me back around. She says she felt really awkward after going through all that stuff, and she wants to see me."

"Well, no problem. Look up tickets on the internet."

Jaye nodded in reply and sprayed Pam into a frying pan. "Will do. But first, let's eat. I'm starving."

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/739826