Alien Purgatory Read online

  Part Two: Betrayer

  Do Unto Others Before They Do Unto You

  Common bastardization of The Golden Rule

  After the car accident, Deena awoke with the dry heaves, retching miserably. The violent cramping gripped her. Her stomach was empty, but the contractions continued. Her guts twisted. Her head pounded every time she tried to move, and the eruptions made her move. She tried to get up, to put her hands down under her, and saw… black feathers. What the hell?

  Her attempts to rise disturbed these. She studied them, dark but dusty, with a slight iridescence. They were feathers, and the sensation of her arms came from inside them! She traced them visually up until her neck was craned to the side, and yes, they went all the way up to her shoulders.

  No. This must be a dream. That’s right, I’m dreaming, she thought, and she decided to wake.

  Once again she tried to get up out of bed, and the wings flapped uselessly.

  No!

  She shook her head to clear it, the pounding had lessened somewhat. Something was stuck to her face. She thought about brushing the offending object off with her hand and those damn feathers came up and touched her mouth.

  Yuk! They smelled funny. They couldn’t be clean. Awful!

  Deena had been a meticulous cleaner, as long as she could force others to do the cleaning. She’d been a cook before an incoming administration had kicked her out of the hospital, saying they’d decided to go in a different direction.

  After they let her go, she learned from people who’d been her inferiors that the new administrators said her cooking wasn’t healthy enough; she used too much salt in her fat-filled, out-of-date recipes. This wouldn’t do for a hospital. Well, everyone had enjoyed her food; she’d made sure of that. Anyone who worked under her in the kitchen and hadn’t, who came up with suggestions, didn’t last long. They soon found themselves unemployed. And clean! Her kitchens had been spotless. She’d made everyone scrub to her satisfaction, and she’d been hard to satisfy. None of the employees had liked her, but she’d been in complete control. They were welcome to leave if they didn’t want to do what she’d demanded. The administration couldn’t complain about the cleanliness of her kitchen. No, they could not.

  Still, she’d found herself unemployed. She’d hired on at Freda’s, a good national company with plenty of jobs, health care, and 401ks. Even Freda’s stock was available for purchase. She’d started as a head cashier, and if anybody hadn’t towed her line they’d found themselves unemployed. Oh, yes.

  She’d run off many people who hadn’t met her standards, anyone, in fact, who hadn’t recognized her authority, who complained about her, or questioned and refused to do whatever she told them, no matter how ridiculous. She harassed them until they quit. Oh, yes, she had fun giving those people the jobs they didn’t want to do, being mean to them, and telling the others nasty things about them. Turning other employees against them had been delightful.

  The harassment, like the delightfully screwy schedule changes, was entertaining. When schedulers assigned them work at the registers in Garden where the uncomfortable heat and cold couldn’t be relieved, and made certain individuals clean restrooms night after night instead of rotating, Deena felt proud of herself. As they became less comfortable and more agitated, Deena grew happier. How she, Elva, Lisa and Sherry had laughed! Seeing them walk out the door in angry fits, to know they would have financial problems and trouble explaining why they’d left, was climactic.

  Those weaklings thought themselves respectable, so they wouldn’t take what she loved to dish out. Deena showed them they weren’t special at all.

  How much fun she’d had going to the managers and telling them she would always be available. They could count on her even though they couldn’t depend on so many others. She’d cemented her position with management and they’d never figured out that she ran the show, not them, deciding who would and wouldn’t work at her store. If only she could get the big checks like the managers received, well that would be something!

  But now, what was this nightmare? She couldn’t wake up. She tried again to brush the thing off her face but it gaped open and a squawk came out. “AAWK!” She squawked! Instead of her own voice, the thing on her face opened and a squawk came out. “AAWK AAWK” barked out when she opened her mouth to talk! Deena scrambled around, trying to stand upright. She still thought she was stuck in a dream; she would wake up, put her warm bare feet on the rug, walk down the hallway to turn up the heater, and return to bed until the air warmed up.

  But this wasn’t her pile carpet at all. It was dirt!

  She tucked her legs under her and rolled up onto them, trying to straighten up. Nothing made any sense. Something had gone wrong. She looked at her feet and found, oh, God, what the hell was that?

  Deena thrashed in a sudden panic. More dust flew up and clogged her nostrils, coating her throat. She realized her mouth gaped. She snapped it shut.

  Bird feet, with claws. Nasty yellow scaly bird legs. And claws! How awful. So ugly. That thing on her face was a beak! This wasn’t right! She couldn’t possibly be a damn bird. Could she? Was she in Hell?

  No. I won’t go there. I’m a righteous, God-fearing gal. I’m not in hell. This is just a dream, a very bad one.

  Deena tried again to wake up, in vain; she only accomplished kicking up more dust.

  She suddenly realized she might be making a spectacle of herself. What if someone was watching?

  A shadow passed quickly overhead. She rolled onto her back and looked up into the sky.

  Something had gone wrong with her vision. These weren’t her eyes at all. Everything appeared brighter and the shadows more distinct.

  The shape glided above her again, and way up in the brilliance the silhouette of a large, dark bird glided on drafts. Something in her chest began to flutter.

  Intense fear assaulted her senses. Scrambling, still thinking like a human, but manipulating a bird’s body, she flopped and crawled until she lay under a thickly leaved shrub. She stopped, tottering over her crazy new bird legs. She managed to tuck her flailing wings up against her sides and sink her belly down onto her feet. She quit moving and tried to collect her wits.

  Deena panted, exhausted, experiencing intense thirst. So thirsty! Where could she get a some water? A sports drink would be perfect right now, so quenching. They sold them at Freda’s. She cautiously looked around.

  She was in some woods with no bottled drinks in sight.

  The trees were odd, though not completely unlike the pine forests near her home, which were sprinkled with oaks and juniper. This was a strange forest, with trees and plants she had never seen before, sporting huge leaves on fleshy stems. Many kinds of vegetation surrounded her, but nothing seemed familiar or recognizable.

  Carefully she studied the shrub she’d blundered under, until she recognized fuzzy caterpillars covering the twigs and small branches. Without conscious thought, she stretched up and snatched one and swallowed the worm whole with her beak up and her neck stretched out. Her new mouth didn’t detect the furry protrusions on the worm’s body. Her throat clenched and relaxed, forcing the insect down. Ugh! Repulsive! She snatched and ate another, and another. Horror! She realized her hunger dictated her actions. Her stomach and not her mind were in control.

  Deena gulped the worms down and but they didn’t make her full. The emptiness in her belly never subsided, though some of her thirst was sated. She still needed to find a source of water.

  Under the shrub, Deena settled her chest down on her scaly feet and passed out.

  She awoke with the point of her beak in the dirt and her head fallen to the side. As she straightened up her neck cramped and seized. A breeze blew across her toes as she stretched and stood. Trying to wipe the grit and dust off, she got a face full of feathers again. She resigned herself to the fact that she had no hands. Bird life was going to be hard.

  Where was the water? Where did the birds drink? She didn’t know. To follow some of the ani
mals to a stream or river, she would have to master the ridiculous creature she now wore.

  Careful to stay under the covering leaves of the shrubs, Deena practiced walking, stretching, flapping her wings, and even did a little pecking. She discovered new limitations and abilities, still waiting, though, to wake up from this long and detailed nightmare. Deena couldn’t remember having had a dream as lengthy and complex as this before, or as painfully sensual.

  The dirt, her feathers, the leaf litter, and the air stank. The forest was an awful, dirty, smelly place, and this bird’s body a retched, filthy, stinking thing.

  Still under the shrub, she tried to flap a bit more, taking small hops, getting coordinated. She began mastering her new self. She briefly got air a couple of times, but couldn’t control her flight and crashed to the ground. She thought about moving out from under the bush and trying to fly to something, but the idea scared her. She wasn’t ready to lift off yet.

  Deena spent some time picking larvae off the low twigs again, carefully manipulating her feet up the branches, and climbing to where the caterpillars munched on leaves, not too far away from her. Keeping her wings folded as much as possible, they nonetheless flapped about when she lost her balance. Several times she caught them in branches, and had to extract and refold them. Twice she ended up upside down. Her feet gripped tightly, of their own volition it seemed; she didn’t have to think about them anymore.

  After a while, she fell into another deep sleep. When she woke, she was still up in the thin limbs, up, though, about four of her new body-heights. Her claws clung but she had teetered over. Her shoulder rested against a branch and her head hung down. She straightened herself.

  She had eaten clean most of the branches below her. The rest of the caterpillars grazed above her. She climbed again and didn’t end up upside down once. Deena became quite spry and feisty, and was proud of herself. She ate all the larvae within reach. Her stomach had settled down, but oddly, that comfortable full feeling never occurred.

  Deena knew she’d have to learn to fly in order to find more food and get to water. It would be necessary to escape predators like the snake–like thing creeping beneath her.

  Fear exploded in Deena unlike anything she’d ever known. Primal terror! The urge to flee pulsed so strongly, she could taste it.

  She unfroze and tried to walk toward the outer edges of the shrub. She’d almost reached a sparse area when the ugly, scary predator peered up and spied her. For a moment, she gazed into its eyes and was frightened into paralysis.

  No! She shook off the fear and jumped. Blasting out of the shrub’s canopy, she spread her wings and pulled with her breast. When her wingtips touched below her, she contracted her back muscles, repeating the movements and quickening them. A trunk loomed in front of her. She banked instinctively and beat her feathered appendages up and down, managing to fly around and not into the tree. She flew with ease away from danger, and the experience of flight was wonderful, but she grew fatigued quickly. Spying a thin branch she experienced dread. How would she land without screwing up and falling to the forest floor, into the waiting jaws of the predator?

  As cautiously as possible, for she still flew badly, she tested her new skills. The branch came up fast. Too fast! Brake! Deena tensed her neck, pulling her head back instinctively, causing her body to rear up. She held her wings vertical, which slowed her movement, but also caused her to miss the damn branch! Aaargh! Deena flew up and around again, making a bird-line for the perch she wanted. She could do this. She would conquer this - and soon - because exhaustion threatened to consume her.

  She missed.

  Should she try another landing spot? No, her muscles were tired. She needed to rest, to lie down and pull the covers up over her and sleep, but no. No more comfy bed with clean, crisp, cool sheets, or warm comforter. Only wind rifling through her feathers, and bark or dirt under her scaly feet, welcomed her now.

  This time she reached down and grabbed the damn wood, wrapped her toes around, and didn’t let go. She spun on the branch, on top again and under, and hung, her mind spinning and little bird breast heaving. She used her beak to grip the bark and flapped her wings and to get upright. Her toes clenched and her knees bent until she rested her belly on her feet and sort of sat until her breathing normalized. Then she stood erect without falling over.

  While flying, she hadn’t experienced a sense of vertigo. The view had been gorgeous. Birds flew far away, some in flocks and others on their own. She checked the tree in which she perched, and found no nasty snake things creeping up to get her as she relaxed in the breeze. She spread her wings a bit to cool off until she got her respiration under control, and tucked them in to keep from getting chilled. They’re sort of like blankets, she thought, and she dozed. She dreamed about her hunger and thirst.

  Deena practiced flying and landing. She ate every bug and berry and seed she found. She spent time in a tree tasting some sour fruit, and learned to tell the rotten from the immature. She feasted on the ripe treats and accidentally got a bit drunk on the ones that were turning a little. She found herself awakening on the ground and determined not to eat the fermented produce ever again.

  Finally, a flock of birds like her landed, screeching, in her tree. When they flew off, a strong urge to congregate with them gripped her. She took flight and tried hard to keep up. She watched their aerial acrobatics, and their nimbleness in the trees, and she learned.

  They flew to a small, gently flowing stream to rest and bask on the rocks. Deena drank her fill and stood in the cold, clear flow, dunking her head in so the water ran down her back. She splashed with her wings, dipping and splashing, dipping and splashing, and she dried herself on a hot rock while examining the others.

  The black birds stood on pale, scaly, clawed legs, and a rainbow effect patterned their cleaned, shiny wings. Their brilliant yellow beaks contained nostrils circled by a bit of bluish grey. Red skin surrounded beady jet eyes. The males sported phenomenal crests, similar to mohawks, with long individual feathers coming out quite attractively.

  A lot of mating went on which Deena fought against like a thing possessed. She flipped over on her back and pecked and scratched until the males stopped approaching her. She found her personal, human feelings about sex nearly nullified by the bird hormones. By force of will alone she retained her honor. She despised their frivolous fornication; the promiscuousness. Biological chemicals directed her to breed. Deena knew God dictated procreation as the ultimate aim for all species, but these creatures didn’t seem to think about God’s will so much as be driven by desire, hunger, thirst, and fear. Instinct reigned supreme in bird society. Thought, well, Deena wasn’t even certain much thinking, as she understood it, was going on, except for hers. She was sure the dumb things were having sex for sex sake. No concept of the consequences, desire for children, or any kind of morality seemed involved.

  Lice infested her body, which caused Deena to itch and scratch endlessly. How foul. The flock congregated and picked the insects off of each other with their beaks, eating them. They rolled in the dirt to coat themselves because the parasites didn’t like dust. The bugs ran around on the bird’s bodies to avoid this coating, and the birds found them and ate the lice and the soil.

  Her fury at being trapped in this being, among these filthy, nasty creatures, roiled.

  Deena stayed with them, but to the side. After her initial near possession by the hormones, she got herself together. Deena picked lice off her body whenever she could reach them. The parasites crawled all over her and made her itch, forcing her to use her beak to pick at them and scratch. Occasionally, she allowed one of the other females to groom her, to get the lice on the back of her neck and head, where she couldn’t reach. She didn’t reciprocate. She spent most of her time feeding and drinking to keep up her strength, and took to flying with the flock. They flew because something scared them, or they thought a shape or movement was scary, to look for food and get to water, and to warm themselves with activity. So
metimes they flew just for fun. Their silly games wasted a lot of hard earned energy. A bird’s life consisted mainly of finding and consuming bugs, seeds, and fruit, and then they burned precious resources playing and humping. Bird brains.

  Deena stayed for the most part on the outskirts of the group, and she flew less and less, only enough to stay with them and to keep warm. The flocking instinct pulled strongly on her, but the animals revolted her. She found this life repulsive. She despised her new body’s limitations.

  One day, the idiots rollicked up in the air, playing stupid games, while she conserved her hard won energy on a branch below. Suddenly, a larger creature with a hooked beak and extended talons swooped out of the sky and into their flight paths. The predator chose one of the black birds and fell in behind, following its every move. The prey bird flew for its life, dodging and spinning and dropping, but the magnificent hunter followed with ease.

  Now why couldn’t I be one of those, Deena thought. She wanted to be a destroyer, not one of these idiotic lice eaters.

  From her perch high up in a tree, Deena watched the other black birds harass the killer. Some flew up above, and attacked the hunter’s back. Deena experienced a desire to fly and help ward off the large predator, but she overrode this urge as she had so many others.

  The small birds chased and dive bombing the predator. The prey birds performed the most marvelous acrobatics to avoid their nemesis’ beak and talons. Soon, the hunter flew away to look for easier game. The others followed for a short distance, and Deena thought she’d better join the group and pretend she’d helped as well, just in case. She launched herself off the branch and flew among the tired flock before they all settled down to rest in the same tree she’d vacated only moments before. Whether or not they’d been fooled by her play, she couldn’t tell.

  Deena learned long ago, before becoming a sort of predator herself on Earth, to play along with her group: her family, friends, and her eventual coworkers, or at least pretend to. Independence exacted a high price in their culture. If she didn’t defend them, they wouldn’t stick up for her. In fact, they’d sabotage her. Long ago she learned she disliked being the outsider and the butt of jokes. The bullying hurt most when her mom and dad and sisters were the bullies. After she grew up and went to work, and made a family of her own, she became the bully, and enforced the same rules of behavior on her children, friends, and coworkers. She learned the joy of growing up was in becoming the predator instead of the prey.

  Deena failed to realize that here, she wasn’t on top, but only a member of the flock. She’d so long been a leader, she was unsuccessful in comprehending her position as one among many, and incapable of acting appropriately.

  Deena couldn’t tell if the birds were aware that she didn’t help defend against the predator. She refused to pick the lice off of others, and sometimes, when she found something good to eat, she neglected to share with them, filling herself up first. They would come and dine if they saw her eating, but if not, she couldn’t be bothered to attract their attention.

  Deena waited for the answers to her many questions. Where was she and why? How did she come to inhabit a filthy, dirty bird? When would this end? What was next? This couldn’t be heaven, clearly. It wasn’t hell, either, because she did not deserve to be there. Judgment, then. She waited for her reward. What was taking so damn long? She always did the right thing by being true to her values.

  She wasn’t doing anything wrong, she knew. She was conforming to the flock, but really, she was human. Humans did not pick lice off each other and fornicate like heathens. Well, good people didn’t. She wouldn’t do those things. Deena thought she might be experiencing a test; perhaps Judgment was being rendered. She wanted to belong; all the bird instincts and hormones tempted her to abandon her beliefs, but she wouldn’t. She’d pass this test.

  The air grew somewhat colder and the food a bit scarcer. The little body used a lot of energy and shelter was sparse. Deena was greedy and ate everything edible that her beady eyes spied. She even fought other birds off when necessary. The cold season approached and Deena knew what that meant; she’d lived in the White Mountains of Arizona long enough to know the winter would kill you if you didn’t prepare.

  Deena sensed the weather cooling, but her imagination fooled her. The cooling occurred more slowly than what she was used to. Food became harder to find, but it wasn’t as scarce she feared. The temperature decreased, though it wouldn’t get as cold as she anticipated. By paying attention she might have been able to tell that indeed this was a more temperate climate than her human home, but she wasn’t attentive. Her habits were set. She clung to her old knowledge and did not adapt.

  She grew greedier and more preoccupied than ever before. Deena impatiently waited for the Lord to place her in heaven, where she’d have peace, and wouldn’t have to put up with anyone’s bullshit anymore. No one would try to steal from her, humiliate, defeat, or deceive her. She’d have everything she desired.

  She wondered if running Carol off the road might be the reason she’d ended up here, but Carol was one of them. Carol complained about Lara, and asked Lara and Elva why they made Jenny clean the restrooms so much. Elva told Deena about this. Carol knew they wanted to get rid of Jenny and she hadn’t gone along. Instead, she’d asked, “Why are you doing this when we don’t have enough cashiers?

  Why did they do that? Because the store was theirs and they decided who would be employed there, and who wouldn’t! And then Carol hadn’t worked there anymore!

  Carol proved herself a dangerous threat when she tried to break up their control over their workplace! Screw that. Carol thought she was special, better than they were. Given time, she’d have turned Calvin against them, just as she’d turned Calvin against Lara. Carol had gotten just what she deserved.

  Though God’s Law says Thou shalt not kill, defending oneself was widely recognized as appropriate. Of course the accident constituted self defense. If Deena had lost her job because of Carol, she wouldn’t have had money to pay the mortgage, the utilities, and to buy food with in another country. This would have led to a slow death by starvation, not to mention the humiliation of losing the house and going on welfare. This was not acceptable. Better Carol should suffer than she. Carol had caused the trouble in the first place. The Bible says an eye for an eye, so this covered getting Carol to walk off the job. Maybe running her off the road had been overkill. But God, Deena prayed, I love you. I try to be like you, to follow your example. Didn’t you cause the flood and kill all the heathens and save Noah? Consider Carol’s death my Noah moment. Too bad I only got one heathen, but I submit to Your will.

  Judgment is standard procedure of course, just God proving He’s the Lord. Deena understood this, and soon God would see she wasn’t giving in to temptation, and He’d promote her to heaven.

  Deena continued to survive, to live according to her values, and to wait for salvation.

  The flock flew about the skies, and Deena went with them, not to play their mindless games, but to keep warm. A predator circled high in the sky, and dived among them before the group could scramble. It cut out a big male. The predators, in their hunger, were a deadly nuisance. They took many members of the flock, ignoring the attempts to run them off.

  Deena didn’t care. None of them were her friends, and she protected herself well. She stayed lower than the other birds if she flew with them at all. She spent most of her time hidden by foliage, hunting food, hydrating, and eating the seeds, which became plentiful as the season ended. So when the predator sped into their presence, she was ready.

  The prey birds followed the hunter, harassing and annoying it as Deena made for the trees.

  A heavy weight struck her from above and Deena lost altitude. She continued to fly even though something had gone wrong. Her wings didn’t work quite right and she was experiencing directional trouble. Then, the pain came. Her beak opened, the breath coming hard. Deena targeted a branch, but it seemed so far away. If only she could get t
o the tree to rest and discover what had gone wrong.

  The killer struck again. The predatory bird had spied Deena separating herself from the flock, and took the opportunity. It’s first strike was a glancing blow, breaking some of the ribs in the little bird’s back.

  The other birds did not come to Deena’s aid.

  Soon enough, the hunter’s claws grasped her body, and dug its toes into her flesh.

  God is taking me at last, Deena thought.

  Her killer carried the black bird that was Deena to the branch she’d spied as refuge only seconds before, and consumed her with thorough relish.

  Deena awoke in pain once again, not just pain, but the agony of starvation. This wasn’t heaven.

  She lay in a small, dark cave. The opening to the outside allowed in the only light. Her limbs ached. Her stomach clenched. She moved slightly, and ignited more agony. She brushed the pain aside in her mind. She put one hand in front of her face and didn’t see feathers, or her human hand. The thing in her vision was altogether alien.

  Something wiggled. It was beside her, not part of her. As she took stock of her new body and limbs, she found another, smaller creature with her, encircled by her, covered in the dust she also wore like a coat.

  She pulled on the various pieces of the small beast until a squid-like shape became apparent. The little thing sported five tough, though supple limbs. She recognized it as a smaller version of herself; a child perhaps. Mine, she wondered?

  She moved toward the light and exited the cave on the strong tentacles. The sinewy legs didn’t enclose bones. Deena was starving again, and her energy low. Her head throbbed. She managed her new legs clumsily, but the coordination would come, she knew.

  The light outside blinded her and she waited impatiently for her vision to clear. In front of her a bleak landscape stretched, only shades of grey. Rock and sand went on for miles. A dome of sky was shaded white near the horizon to light charcoal grey above. The view was a dull monotony, a depressing sight. Dark shadows, perhaps caves similar to this one, appeared here and there. Odd tracks crisscrossed the sand, resembling those made by creatures with multiple limbs. Others like herself must travel through the area.

  Apparently Judgment was going to be a longer trial than she’d imagined. Of course God had an imperative to make sure He didn’t let the wrong type into heaven. This was fine, Deena believed she would pass in due time.

  The air seemed heavy and dry, thick against her body. No breeze blew. Complete stillness.

  A slight movement attracted her eye, capturing her full attention.

  Sand mounded and fell in a miniature cascade nearby until a prickly, pincered head poked out and appeared to look around. She stayed absolutely still. The small monster worked some more of its body out of the sand. Fleshy protuberances covered the top, but otherwise the beastie seemed flat. The back mounded up slightly under the soft thorns, covering the length of the back. The thing wriggled all the way out, revealing a form which tapered to a point. Like everything else, its hide was grey. Only movement gave the little creature away. When unmoving, it became nearly invisible. Deena knew it was there only because she’d seen it emerge.

  The grit beside the animal began to mound again. A second pincer came up, as if seeking the air, and then another. The head poked through, and soon enough, a second one extruded itself and lay motionless on top. The third one did the same.

  Deena waited, aware of her ferocious hunger and the strange tension in her five sinuous legs. Her body, of its own volition, reared back on two limbs and lashed out the little animals. The tentacles flashed in a blur of motion and wrapped just enough of the tips around the little beasts to grasp them. To Deena’s horror and her body’s apparent delight, her craw opened beneath her and her limbs threw the creatures into her gullet.

  Strong muscles contracted and she forced them into her stomach. If she’d been able to observe herself from the outside, she would have seen the prey hanging in suspension, paralyzed, and already being quickly digested in her opaque figure.

  Shocked, Deena merely sat. As before, her stomach rebelled at the sudden nourishment after so long without, but she didn’t allow herself to expel the food. Deena fought to keep the meal down until, incongruously, the sand stirred again. I must be above a nest, she thought. Another creature poked through the crust, perched atop, and peered about.

  In this reality, patience and stillness paid dividends.

  Deena grasped the little beast, but instead of ingesting her prey, she remembered the little one in the cave. God had put the infant in her care; it wouldn’t do to let a baby starve to death. Clumsily she turned and undulated back into the cavern. The small one squirmed but didn’t cry. There wasn’t any sound in this place. Even her movement over the gritty sand made no noise. She couldn’t hear the grating under her limbs or against the mouth she carried beneath her.

  Deena’s locomotion was becoming more elegant with practice, and by the time she reached the child, she felt comfortable in this body. She grasped the small creature with two tentacles, rolled the baby over, and shoved the prey into the gullet of the land squid, withdrawing her tentacle when the digestive juices stung her a bit. She was none too gentle.

  She patiently waited while the smaller version of herself dissolved the animal she’d introduced to it.

  Deena had two daughters and two sons back on Earth, grown now, thank God, as they’d all been a trial to raise. One son had married and built life of his own. The younger boy, too, was out into the world. One girl married but the other, well, she considered herself a career woman, for however long that lasted.

  Deena taught her girls that work was fine but family came first. Deena had worked out of necessity, but also for the control she craved and the pride she felt at being able to do so. Her own kids hadn’t been easy to manage. Going to work gave her what she needed. Nothing satisfied her like being in control of other people’s lives. She’d thought she could make her children into little versions of herself, but her assumptions hadn’t turned out to be true. In many ways, work provided the satisfaction she couldn’t get at home. Though she received payment for it, she knew she’d deserved more money and respect from workers and management alike.

  Certainly, life was a trial. God didn’t make life easy, but Deena had stuck to the script and tried to apply it. If the heathens wouldn’t conform, well, they’d be going to hell. Then they would regret not listening to her. A lot of supposedly God-fearing people went to church and “talked the talk” but didn’t really get it. Such fools. When she was human, she waited for her children to understand, still hoping that they’d come around to her brand of thinking. Life had a way of knocking the hell out of people, even if someone taught them the correct basics growing up. Deena made sure her kids learned those lessons. They would realize the sense of her teachings someday. Too bad she wouldn’t be there to witness and enjoy their eventual comprehension.

  Controlling other people’s lives because they depended on a paycheck was fairly easy. They were trapped since they needed to feed their families and maintain their respectability by working the same job day after day, month after month, year after year. They became miserable and were treated badly and none of that mattered. For Deena, being in complete control over employees gave her great joy. Those who wouldn’t submit to her ministration were more than welcome to quit as object lessons to others. In fact, she would help them make the decision to leave. About half understood and submitted to her ministrations. The rest found themselves out on the pavement.

  Family, however, was a different matter. Her children hadn’t cared to socialize with her much after leaving home. They rarely came around unless they needed something. Deena dearly loved her grandchildren but they visited infrequently. Her daughters rejected her gifts and spared no time for her. Her sons led busy lives as well. They didn’t appreciate her parenting suggestions, even though she’d raised them all successfully to adulthood. Not every parent could say that. Being a mother had been d
ifficult, and she’d sacrificed. She bore their disobedience and stupidity. They seemed unable to appreciate this, too. Although Deena’s friends told her that they would after they had their own children, this hadn’t happened by the time Deena had died on Earth.

  Deena failed to understand why they didn’t emulate her.

  Now Deena was locked into this bad fantasy. She remembered the car accident and decided this couldn’t be a dream; it was lengthy and too complicated and, well, real. Never in her dreams had she changed bodies before, therefore this must be Judgment. No doubt occurred to her. She hadn’t realized Judgment would take so long.

  The bird thing had ended wrongly somehow, perhaps because she hadn’t gone along as she’d learned to do on Earth. God created the birds, too, right? Maybe she should have adjusted to their ways. Early in life on Earth she’d discovered that mimicking her role models kept her from being victimized. She acted the same as the others so they wouldn’t hurt her like they did to those who didn’t conform. When Deena grew up and become skilled enough to have a family of her own, and friends of her choosing, she led the pack among peers similar to herself. It was only natural to grow up to lead and have others follow or be weeded out. Her parents and their relations and friends told her throughout her youth that this constituted adulthood, and they’d seemed proud of her. The more she conformed, the more she grew to appreciate the examples her family had modeled for her, but her own children didn’t follow in her footsteps. They resented her lessons and the way she taught them.

  Perhaps she’d been too soft with them. Maybe she shouldn’t have worked so much. She would have been able to more directly control and influence her children if she’d stayed home, but the money wouldn’t stretch far enough. Anyway, it bored her to be home with them every minute of the day; she’d wanted to work. Her kids didn’t turn out like she’d expected them to, and that was the price she paid. In fact, they were damned similar to those she’d run off the job for years. The perverse nature of children made them turn out different from their parents. She hadn’t failed; she was a victim of circumstances.

  The difficult lessons, of course, produced tears, anger, and resentment. Deena thought she’d been hard with them, but perhaps she should have been harder. All kids experience growing pains, she told herself this many times. Children were more difficult to control than adults with familial obligations. She could have done a better job of denying them their treats, bringing them fewer presents, and not letting them do what they wanted unless they behaved as she demanded. Some of that she did, of course, but maybe she hadn’t done enough.

  All this flowed through Deena’s mind as she watched the little land squid digest its meal and become more alert. The baby snuggled against her and went back to sleep as Deena contemplated whether this child came from the animal she now inhabited.

  When she’d been a bird, she found it impossible to know whether she had any children. Birds became independent once they learned to fly. The bird’s body could have laid many eggs and fed the chicks until they left the nest and she wouldn’t have recognized them. Deena took a moment to wonder what had happened to the soul that occupied the bird before her. Did birds even have souls? It didn’t really matter. She didn’t care. It was all God’s will, not hers.

  What, she thought, can I get out of this situation? Here I am in an alien body, in a difficult landscape, eating strange creatures, caring for a helpless child. Where are the others? There must be more. This creature wasn’t born from the sand. And why am I out here in this cave alone with a dependant kid? Is my family around somewhere?

  So Deena decided that when they both became well enough, they’d look for the others and find the answers to these questions. Then she would go along to get along, which she talked herself out of as a bird. She’d grown beyond this in her human adulthood after she became the one others needed to please. Oh yes, and now she’d gained another opportunity to teach a child these life lessons, to help it grow and teach it to succeed like she had. Perhaps the reason she found herself here today was to try once more to educate this one to behave properly, to succeed where she’d been foiled on Earth. Raising a child to surpass her own success and powerful ability to teach others to do as she bid them might just be the test God was challenging her to pass. God wanted her to be more God-like.

  Frightened and confused by its parent’s thoughts, the little baby sought comfort the only way it knew. It snuggled closer to Deena, as if in childish agreement, which was just the sign of confirmation she needed.

  When they were strong enough, Deena and the small squid left their haven. They both moved elegantly now, in a sort of sensuous undulation. The baby stayed close and Deena became somewhat annoyed at its dependency, which impeded her movement, so she frequently pushed it away.

  From the entrance to their cave Deena had observed several types of prey and their behavior. She successfully fed herself and the child. Tracks in the grey sand attracted her attention. Because of their similarity to the ones she made when finding and capturing food.

  Once in a while, Deena spied movement in the distance, undulating bodies which seemed to enter and exit at the same location on the horizon. She headed in that direction.

  Closer to this place the sand had been trampled by many tentacles and all the food captured and eaten. Presumably any prey straying in to the area didn’t live long.

  Deena flattened out and slowed as she neared the entrance, but the little one failed to follow her example, so she slapped it down hard. You’d better learn to do as I do, Deena thought angrily.

  The warmth and dryness out in the open provoked in Deena a strong desire to enter the cave. This urge echoed in the small one. She heard a timid voice in her brain whining about the heat. She sent the thought, shut up, to the child and then blocked the annoying noise from her mind. The kid would learn.

  However, she experienced some anxiety herself as they approached the tunnel’s mouth. They moved slowly. The child’s thoughts once more touched hers, complaining, and begging to get into shade and shelter. She mentally slapped its thoughts away again. The kid was so distracting.

  The landscape grew hotter and drier and somehow and even more grey, suppressing activity.

  Her ward became quite slow and annoyingly uncoordinated. Deena relented and gathered the little one up in her tentacles and carried it into the cave’s mouth.

  Instantly they cooled. She released her burden and they pressed as much of their outer covering as possible against the cool, sandy walls and floor. The child recovered somewhat so they moved along the tubular cavern, descending deeper into the cold, slightly moist rock. The tunnel opened into a communal area where they stopped. Many creatures, like the one Deena found herself in, occupied the large space. She heard them all thinking towards her. The beasts didn’t stop their activities or turn to face her, as the squidish animals were faceless, but they were well aware she’d entered.

  Feelings of discomfort and alien-ness surged in her. She knew about this; as a child on Earth, when unsuccessful in her social world, Deena had experienced the same dejection. Now, as then, she understood her exclusion, the shunning. These animals considered her an outsider and unwelcome. The thing she’d become had done something to offend the whole--what, tribe? Pod? Herd? Whatever.

  Deena knew how to turn this around, so she groveled by pressing herself against the ground. She willed the little one to follow her example. It obeyed immediately, fearing the whip of its parent’s tentacles or mind again.

  Good, Deena thought, it does learn.

  She reached back into her childhood memories and used the tools that had worked for her then. She apologized, not just, “I’m sorry,” but real self-abasement. She let them know she understood her mistakes, and her transgression would never happen again. I’ve learned my lesson, and I want to be with you and don’t like being alone. Please, please, please, she thought to herself and projected to the others, please let me prove myself to you.

  The creatures forme
d two lines in front of her, and at the end, the largest creature swayed. They waited, still pummeling Deena with their disapproval and dismissiveness. Deena recognized a gauntlet when she saw one.

  As a human child, Deena had experienced a psychological punishment the moment she disobeyed, ignored, or disagreed with her parents. This demonstration was a physical representation of those bad moments. On Earth, the adults and older children all found ways to humiliate her. Sometimes they hit her, and the other kids fought with her. Not just her mother and father, but the whole family, and even friends got a turn punishing her. She’d used the same technique on her children, getting friends and family members to join in helping her to discipline them. This was also the way she behaved at work, getting those smart enough to go along with her to humiliate the employees who didn’t. People either obeyed Deena, or she and her coworkers got ride of them. Here, though, the group turned on her.

  Deena believed she’d be alright. She would go along to get along, until such time as she could make the decisions and lead them. Deena understood. So she suffered the gauntlet, which was psychological but not physical. As she undulated through the passage between the lines, the tentacles whipped around her threateningly from both sides, and she endured the humiliation. They didn’t touch her or the little one and they shielded the child from their mental onslaught. Deena couldn’t know how the creature she now animated had misbehaved before her arrival in its body, but she relished the idea that one day they would all discover the mistake they’d made in punishing her. She prepared to bide her time.

  Deena stood in front of the largest one of them and the damned thing thought to her in the most dominant of tones. She stopped herself from thinking of dominating because she could never let this Dominant One know she planned to take its place and become the ruler. She’d have to develop her plan slowly, finding those who thought like she did, who would accept her superiority, and make a coalition. She suppressed her own thoughts and experienced only the Dominant One’s disgust for her. Groveling, she pressed her body into the cave floor, releasing the kid somewhat from her control, but still impressing upon it the need to be servile. The smaller squid suppressed its own fear and confusion in order to avoid retribution from its parent. The Dominant One carefully shielded the little one from the force of its feelings as it overwhelmed the parent.

  After the punishment ended, the creatures undulated gorgeously back to the activities they had abandoned when she’d arrived, and the Dominant One gave his orders to Deena, which she obeyed.

  The chastisement continued. Of course Deena received the worst chore, it amounted to latrine duty. In this case, a particular cavern in which all did their dirty business needed constant cleaning. She found herself scooping the stuff out of the cave with only her tentacles and dumping the feces down a shaft into an underground river. She couldn’t hear the splash or the roar of the water up through the deep hole, but felt the humidity, disturbances in the air, and the vibrations in the rock. She was expected to clean this area several times a day.

  Deena had cleaned her share of restrooms in her time, but with disinfectant and gloves and brushes. Raising four children had destroyed all of her former squeamishness, though she worried about the lack of tools. She was forced to use her limbs to carry the deposits to the shaft. At least they were solid. Careful not to ever touch her dirty tentacles to her mouth, she had to hold the ventral maw above the filthy floor even as the muscles she used to do this burned. Twigs or leaves which would have been useful didn’t seem to exist on this planet.

  Wearily, she traveled up a hilly tunnel to a small above ground spring and pool to clean herself after her chores. She was the only one who utilized this particular water source. Considered tainted and befouled as the latrine cleaner, she alone washed in this water downstream of the bathing and the drinking pools the others used.

  Between cleanings, she learned better than to discipline the child, or put a corrective tentacle on it. They coddled their children unbearably. They tolerated behavior Deena considered annoying. She would have punished the child into silence and stillness for it, but Deena learned her lessons well. She behaved only as they did, in her effort to earn their forgiveness, if not their respect. Someday, she’d be the one giving the orders, and all this nonsense would change. Fortunately, the little one stopped thinking at her and didn’t do much except ride along on her tentacles. At least it had learned not to whine and complain into her mind. She’d corrected that annoyance, and the lesson hadn’t been forgotten.

  Deena discovered that if she stayed far enough away from the others, she was unable to sense their feelings or hear their thoughts in her head. She assumed they were unaware of hers as well, and so she made her plans while she cleaned the latrine. When she had to be with them, she blanked her brain and deferred to them absolutely. In the potty, she hated and fumed, but in the common cave, she prostrated herself and groveled.

  One of the only kindnesses they showed her was to take the child off her tentacles, though they probably did this for the child’s sake. They took the little squid and placed it with others, and worried at first because it would not communicate at all.

  Deena grew strong in body. The latrine duty became routine, so much so that when she’d cleaned the hall, she washed up and went to the communal area to mingle with the other adults. They didn’t allow her to tend the food; the algae-looking plant that the others scraped from the walls with their ventral mouths. She wasn’t permitted to feed just anywhere, as they did, but only at a special section set aside for her, lest she contaminate the growth. Best of all, the child wasn’t permitted to eat with her or be with her at work. This spared her its constant cloying, and she wasn’t forced to treat it in the manner the stupid creatures required. They doted on the little ones. Deena found their parenting repulsive.

  She did not recognize the final problem in time to do anything about it, being thus removed from the normal way of life and shunned by members of the pod. The parents drew her child out of its fear and confusion, and its thoughts thoroughly shocked and dismayed them. They didn’t understand at first, and thought the baby was deranged in some way. But as they loved it into even more relaxed and trusting states, the small beast revealed all to them, and they found themselves mortified. They began to comprehend that, as Deena seemed to conform, she plotted to control. She would not accept or reconcile herself to the society which they all deemed so good. Her sickness became evident and the creatures, in order to save their way of life from her madness, decided to do a thing that they had never, ever conceived of doing before. In this manner Deena changed them, even beyond the child’s revelations of her thoughts and feelings did.

  During those times when she roamed among them, Deena blanked her mind of her own thoughts, mirrored theirs back to them, and mimicked their behavior. They were not male and female, and had no sex, thank God. After the bird adventure Deena welcomed their sexlessness. They seemed to be a family unit, and all shared the few duties, consisting of tending the algae and the children, except, of course, the latrine duty, which she was relegated to for punishment.

  Once in a while, a new creature appeared, small and helpless, and tentacle-less until a few days later. She didn’t interact with the babies, or feel love or any emotion about them. She simply needed to observe, so when she took over, she would understand their culture, physical attributes, and limitations in order to rule them. She witnessed the little spuds come into existence by budding off the bodies of a single parent, and separating to plop unceremoniously on the floor. From then on the adults lavished attention on them, which reminded Deena of some of the humans she’d known. Their children were soft and cried easily, expected to be hugged and catered to, recoiled from harsh looks or words, and thought themselves smart and special. They were so unlike herself as a child, and her tough and self-sufficient children, who didn’t require much attention once they’d been taught to take care of their own needs. They understood how to dominate others rather than gettin
g hurt by them, and to band together and ostracize anyone who turned against them. That was smart. According to Deena, two kinds of people existed: soft and hard, victims and victors, losers and winners. Those who planned, dominated, while others were fooled, cried, lost, and ran away. That’s what these creatures were; pathetic, whiny failures. She despised them.

  Deena would teach them how to be strong, hard winners.

  Too late Deena found she had been thinking aloud in the communal cave, providing the group with the confirmation they needed. They realized the parent was deranged, not the child. Deena seethed as the Dominant One bore down on her. She saw no way to escape. The buds were all being hustled into one of the passages leading away from the hall. The rest of the adults encircled her. The Dominant One raised itself up in front of her now.

  They pummeled her with their disgust and abhorrence. She realized not only had she slipped up by not guarding her thinking in the communal area, but they bombarded her with her past thoughts and feelings: the ones she’d had while cleaning the latrine, out in the desert, and back in the little cave. They had divined her viewpoint from the child; the creature had betrayed her by snitching to these holier-than-thou horrors! She defended herself. She opined fiercely about the way they’d ostracized her, and how wrong they were to do this just because she thought differently than they. They should try to understand her and not abuse her.

  She didn’t compare her predicament to the many times she had put people in exactly this same position back on Earth.

  THWACK! The Dominant One had snaked out a sturdy tentacle and sent her flying.

  SMACK! CRACK! Others joined in and punished her, too.

  Still Deena thought furiously at them. She searched for one she could reach, who would sympathize, and found none. Not one of these beasts appreciated her point of view, just as she hadn’t cared about her victims.

  The horrible creatures lashed Deena, but she refused to discard her own beliefs and submit. They might beat her to death, but she would never agree with their wrong-headedness.

  Beat her to death they did, to protect themselves from her wrong-headedness.

  Again Deena came to consciousness, thinking of the birds that had not come to harass off the predator, about the land squids who had cast her out and killed her, and of the child who had betrayed her after she had fed him and had taken him back to his… whatever.

  Her pain was enormous, as usual. Deena feared this was becoming a bad habit. This time she wouldn’t even pretend to try to play their game or seek others similar to herself, of like mind to support her and back her up. Instead, she would dominate quickly. This wasn’t Earth, this was nightmare. The rules differed. Thrice she had been, what, transported? Twice she had failed and had been betrayed. Not again.

  Noise attracted her attention, sounding like shouts. She opened her eyes and moved her body carefully. Of course, something was wrong with it. She lay in a sticky, warmish pool. She unstuck herself and sat up. A corpse reposed next to her in elegantly embroidered robes.

  This couldn’t be good, so large an expanse of blood, around a dead man who looked like a nobleman of some sort, and shouts that were coming rapidly closer.

  Deena crawled away from the scene of carnage, and from the yelling, down a stone hallway. As she fumbled, she assessed this new body. Excellent. This one seemed human and moved as a human’s did.

  Running now, holding her slashed left arm across the puncture in her ribs, she coughed up little bloody chunks until she cleared her lungs. A little fresh blood came up.

  Why she kept ending up in these destroyed bodies she couldn’t fathom, and the phenomenon was getting old fast. This body seemed miraculous though, and compared to the others was fit, athletic, and finely tuned. Deena reveled in this one, and in her ability to manipulate it even though it had been mortally damaged. She had learned to let the bodies do what they did in each incarnation, because they seemed to have some kind of physical memory, or something. Inside, no personality remained, and if she didn’t fight the body, but instead allowed it teach her about itself, things went much more smoothly.

  This one seemed to block the enormous pain as she moved. The agony registered dimly as she pushed out of a wooden door into a cold, dark, flagstone street. Some buildings rose up above her and the heavy metal-strapped planks closed on the shouts which had come close, too close. She needed to flee, hide, and escape.

  Deena glanced up and down the fog-laden street. Decision time. She decided to follow the slight grade downhill. She ran, her shod feet slipping on the slick stones. This reality appeared sort of medieval and her mind pondered this as she navigated the slippery, cold passage. Her children had gone to a Renaissance Fair. Those robes on the corpse had seemed similar to that style.

  “Kate!” Someone said close by. Deena turned.

  “Here, Kate!” The figure spoke English and made the universal hand gesture for come here.

  Deena went.

  The man looked human. He put his arm around her and dragged her through a door, throwing a bolt after them.

  “Shhh!” He pushed her onto the floor and sat down with her. Deena panted and coughed up the last of the clotted blood. No fresh, bright red fluid appeared. Good.

  Deena managed her breathing with long deep breaths, more slowly each time. This body was fit and the muscle control exquisite. As a human, Deena had been a fat woman with a huge gut. Hypertension and high cholesterol had plagued her, a victim of her own cooking. If she had known a body could be like this, well, this was something.

  The mob moved past, checking doors and making enough noise that Deena and her new companion were able to easily follow their progress along the street. When the sounds of search receded, the man struggled up and pulled her gently to her feet, taking care not to pull her arm away from her side.

  “We must make the rendezvous. They won’t wait after dawn.”

  Fine with Deena, she let him support her as she moved with him through the building to another barrier of metal-strapped planks that opened onto a different road. He propped her up against the wall near the doorframe, pushed the door open and looked out. The street seemed deserted. He backed in and put his arm around her waist again, pulling her out into the cold. They hurried up the cobbled road, away from the faint noises of the searchers. Deena had little trouble with the marvelous body. As they gained the hilltop by hugging the buildings, the view opened up before them. Two small moons hung low in the black sky, and a larger one was barely visible above the horizon. Few stars were perceptible around their heavenly glow. A cross street slanted downward to the left and leveled off to the right. Some uneven ground stretched ahead, and then a lake, or sea, reflected the moons. They crossed the road quickly and plunged into the rough, slowing to cut down on the noise.

  The long hike was hard going. Deena’s sturdy boots helped, but she had lost so much blood. Her heart pounded and she was dehydrated and achy. The man was clearly dragging her when they stepped out onto the beach. She used what little energy she had left to keep her arm clamped to her side. As they gained the open area, some figures came out of their hiding places in the shrubs at the edge of the sand. They picked her up, and one supported the man who’d gotten her this far. Others dragged a small rowboat into the water.

  The ocean was salty and frigid. Deena passed out in the arms of her supporters as they placed her in the boat. The strong rowers hugged the coast. The forest grew thicker, the cliffs rose, and the land curved, so the little band could no longer be seen from the shore. They slowed their rowing into a more rhythmic cadence.

  Deena remained unconscious until after the sun came up. She lay on a rough, wet pad in the bottom of the rowboat. A rescuer pushed thick cloths against her wounds with both hands. The rowers still worked; sweat dripped from their faces even though the air was cold and damp. Fog had risen. Deena heard shouts along the coast now, not of alarm, but of direction.

  When they reached the right place, figures came from the beaches to pull the boat to
shore. They lifted and carried Deena. Again, she passed out.

  Deena woke slowly, her mind fuzzily muddled by what she feared were drugs. The room was small and dark, and she lay on a comfortable bed, from which she had no desire to rise. The scenes of her escape from the bloodied hallway played behind her eyes like a movie. She looked around, but couldn’t identify much in the darkness. A slit of sunlight seemed to be shining through a gap between heavy, dark curtains to her left. A glint of light beyond her feet caused her to raise her head until she perceived a mirror. She tried to sit up, but straps held her down and her side screamed until she forced the pain into the background.

  Sometime later, a door opened and closed to her right and a figure walked unhesitatingly to the curtains. His soft shoes shuffled on the uncarpeted floor.

  He thrust open the draperies, blinding Deena. Before she shut tight her eyes she glimpsed a large, blond man in full length robes. He seemed human.

  “Ah, Kate, my pet, you are awake, I see.” The voice, strong and clear as a bell, belonged to a man long used to speaking in public. He pulled all the covers off of her in one draw, and proceeded to unbuckle the straps that held her. Deena tried to sit up but was unable. The man shoved his arm behind her back, pulled her forward, moved the pillows around her, and then loomed over her. Putting his hands under her armpits he hoisted her up so she sat with her back against them. She groaned.

  “You seem well enough, my dear, and your mission has been a wonderful success,” he said as she struggled to push the pain aside and catch her breath. “Lord Darion of Ruby Shire is dead as a doorknob, and you deserve a vacation, as soon as you’re healed. What do you say about that?”

  Deena thanked God that she was dealing with an English speaking human when she said, “Excellent.”

  The man had a large head and blond, almost white hair, pale blue eyes and a clean shaven face. His golden colored embroidered robes appeared to be fine velvet. His visage instantly turned ugly.

  “Excellent, what?” he demanded flatly.

  Deena knew he required something of her but she didn’t know what. She stared at him hoping for a clue.

  His face flushed purple before his flattened hand smashed across her cheek.

  “Excellent WHAT?” he screamed. He slapped her again. “Excellent WHAT?”

  “Excellent Sir?” she said weakly. She would have liked to have kicked him in the balls, but she could hardly move.

  “Sire! Sire!” He screamed. “Why do you deny me? I feed you. I house you. I give you excellent work so well suited to your personality and training, and yet you…” He stopped and put one hand on his head in frustration, the other on his hip, and then he stared at her and said in a more reasonable tone, “Every time you return home from a mission you’re this way. You make me beat you again. Every. Time. Just once I’d like you to come back and remember your place without my help.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Deena said in a calm manner. You pompous ass, I will kill you, her inner voice threatened, though.

  He seemed surprised. “Really? Well.” He relaxed his stance. “Have I finally beaten some proper respect into you?” he asked rhetorically as he paced around the bed. He had been so afraid of her. Perhaps he’d knocked an acceptable deference into her, at last.

  Not likely, Deena thought as she realized that once again she wasn’t in control by any stretch of her imagination. In her condition, she couldn’t take him, but with this body, she would, in time. She imagined slapping this pompous ass until his cheeks bled.

  “Well, good then,” he said as he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit.

  Incongruously, a security keypad was secured to the wall, which he hid with his body as he entered the code. He slammed the door behind him.

  Deena took careful stock of her situation. She wore dark blue cotton pajamas. The binding on her forearm allowed her to fingers move just fine. A bandage encircled her lower ribs and she was bruised and scratched. Her room, small but clean, was furnished with heavy dark objects: a nightstand, a large dresser, an even bigger wardrobe, and a vanity with a mirror. The bed was narrow and piled with pillows and comforters. Thick tapestries of courtship scenes hung on the walls. The walls were constructed of stone. Large wooden beams and planks crossed the ceiling. The space seemed medieval, and yet the warm draft of forced air heating reached her in the bed.

  The keypad clicked and the doorknob turned. The door propped open two inches. She saw the outline of a small figure and the gleam of an eye. She said nothing but waited and soon it opened wide enough to admit a tray carried by what looked like a servant girl. A guard followed her in and stood just inside.

  Ah, servants, very nice, Deena thought, and breakfast in bed. This will be worth taking over. I’ll live like a queen. Hell, I’ll be the Queen.

  Deena contemplated where she would have been living and what she’d have been doing as if she’d conquered the other scenarios, and reveled in her good fortune. She thanked God. He did work in mysterious ways.

  The servant stood beside the bed and Deena heard the dishes clattering. As she pushed herself up straighter with her healthy arm, the girl flinched. She didn’t run away though, and instead set the tray on the nightstand. It was wooden with short folding supports. The girl pulled Deena’s bedding back up over her and fussed a bit, and then unfolded the legs and placed the tray above her lap. She backed out and the guard did the same, closing the door.

  Oh, this is lovely, Deena thought, and she inhaled the smell of steak and mushrooms and eggs-over–medium, a bowl of fruit, and coffee. Excellent.

  Deena devoured the protein which her body craved and polished off the sweet grapes and strawberries. The coffee she savored, and when the girl came for the dishes, Deena had her remove the silver-looking carafe on the nightstand and put it beside her.

  She couldn’t get over her good fortune. This was worth everything else, and as soon as she killed the no-good, robe-draped freak, this place would all be hers. Perhaps she’d imprison him in a dungeon. Medieval castles had dungeons, didn’t they?

  This shell was miraculous, and in less than a week, she stood in front of the vanity mirror, admiring her new self. The body seemed human and was female, although it had a boy chest, and large joints and bones. Long and lean, it looked like a growing teenage boy’s. She was reminded of her sons, though they’d been shorter and stockier. At about nine years old the boys had been smaller versions of this. Her new body required large quantities of food, and even after the meal, she still felt hungry. Maybe when the healing completed the hunger would ease up a bit. The long muscles became round and meaty as she contracted them. She had little fat and the tendons and veins stood out prominently. The hands and feet were large, the head neat, with brown hair sheered extremely short, and she sported scars everywhere. She even had a blur of tattoo ink on the back of her right shoulder, but the tat was obscured by what looked like healed burns. She couldn’t make it out. Her eyes were brown and her skin seemed tanned, or was she just dark all over? Had she been in the habit of sunbathing nude? During her long days in bed she noticed that this exterior had the effect of not glowing in the moonlight as had her white human coating, but instead seemed to help her disappear into the shadows. If she was indeed an assassin, as she suspected herself to be, then this would be a positive attribute. Dark hair and eyes, and a hide that blended into the night; this, she could work with. The body wasn’t beautiful, but was well suited to certain types of activities, and pleasurable thoughts of those filled Deena’s imagination.

  In the wardrobe Deena discovered her clothes; at least, they all fit her like they were hers. She found black leather pants and vests, and fine cloth slacks and shirts. Short and long cloth and leather jackets, and thankfully, cotton underwear and socks were in supply. She tried on the black leather pants that laced up the front, and a black cloth shirt which pulled on and tied at the neck. Its sleeves were puffed and elastic snugged the fabric close, but they fit over her bandage. The boots she found in the clo
set matched the color of the pants and didn’t they look in style just like the army kinds? Yes they did, and they were comfortable and sturdy and the lacings provided support for her ankles. The perfect assassin-in-repose outfit!

  She decided the building was faked medieval due to the heating and cooling systems and a glorious modern bathroom which she’d been enjoying. That silly pompous ass was living some sweet kind of fantasy here.

  When Deena knocked on the inside of the door, she heard a guard keying the pad before opening it. The uniformed man held a dagger before him in his right hand; his left extended and pushed her back. Another of her jailers stood behind him, also with his short, deadly weapon drawn.

  “Kate?” the guard in the front asked.

  So, her name was Kate.

  “I want to go for a walk,” Deena said.

  “Can’t you wait until the castle is asleep?”

  “No. I’m bored.”

  “Sleep. The night guards will take you out.”

  “Isn’t there anywhere I can go now?”

  “You can go to the courtyard when you have recovered sufficiently to train. Lord Steven has ordered us to keep you in your room until you are well enough to spar with the others.”

  “Take me out now. Some exercise will help me heal.”

  “The Lord…”

  “Screw the Lord.”

  Both guards grinned.

  “We’ll be punished and removed from duty, but we’re tired of this anyway,” the guard behind said. The front one nodded and affirmed, “It’s boring.”

  They stood back and she walked out into the stone hallway. The guards detached themselves from the doorway as she entered the hall and they followed. They, too, dressed in silly costumes. They’d grabbed spears from wall mounts and replaced the wicked looking daggers in their belts.

  Deena wandered the castle, for castle it was, and peered out of the narrow windows at rooftops, agricultural fields, and beyond these, an excellent forest. The farmers used primitive implements, and their horses drew wagons. All the work seemed to be of human and animal labor, no trucks, combines, or tractors were in sight.

  She followed her nose, and found in the lower depths, she found a modern, gleaming, stainless steel kitchen. The staff offered coffee and a meal of Cornish game hen, bread stuffing, and green beans. Other than serving her, they stayed clear. She sat at the end of a long countertop near the door, and the guards did not eat, but stood silently behind her.

  She ate everything except the bones and the plate, got up and left her mess right on the counter. With servants, she would never have to clean up, prepare food and cook, make her bed, wash her clothes, mop a floor, or a scrub a toilet again. Deena swelled up her chest and straightened her spine, and with her head held high, she walked through the halls in the direction of the deep clear voice which she recognized as that of her captor. The guards became a little nervous. She strode into the room, exuding all the power she imagined she possessed. The blond man’s blue eyes turned toward her, but held no joy or welcome in them. Quite the opposite.

  “Ah, feeling better?” He asked, glaring at her. Then he stared at her guards. The knowledge that they were both in trouble hadn’t stopped them from coming, which was a bold action. This fact did not escape him.

  Deena contemplated along equivalent lines. The men had followed her into their commander’s den, obviously against his will. They didn’t respect him, and were willing to endure punishment to do as she pleased. If all the soldiers felt the same, she would be in control in no time. Power engulfed her. She envisioned cutting this fool’s throat, taking over his kingdom, and rewarding these guards.

  They’d stayed about ten feet behind her, far enough away to not be able to stop her in time if she took action.

  A robed man, who’d been sitting at the table, stood. He looked tired and was elderly, small, and brittle. He also appeared intelligent.

  “Ah, my good friend, is this your pet killer?” the old man asked in a surprising baritone. He had recognized that Its form followed Its function. “I’ve so often heard rumors. Am I to understand, since you are introducing It to me, that you won’t be, shall we say, trying to overtake my throne anytime soon?”

  Deena felt hot anger coming from Lord Steven.

  “Will you excuse me, Lord Cline? I’ll be but a few minutes. Please, avail yourself of the brandy while I’m away.”

  Her captor turned to Deena and his hand squeezed her above the elbow. His steely grip pinched into her nerves; his strength was impressive. He hauled her out into the hallway, out of sight of the other lord, and the soldiers followed. Then he grabbed her around the back of the neck with one large hand and squeezed the nerve bundles on either side.

  “You stupid bitch!” he snarled through gritted teeth. “How dare you roam the castle against my orders? And you two,” he snapped his head around in fury to take in both guards, “Why do you allow her to wander into the hall where I’m talking to her next target. Now he knows what she looks like. You’re supposed to keep her out of sight. I don’t know what you were thinking, but perhaps a lashing will remind you who your master is.”

  Lord Steven made a guttural sound and didn’t wait for an answer. He walked rapidly, forcing Deena down the hallways until they came to yet another thick, wooden door. With angry, snapping movements, he unbolted the lock and threw her out into the courtyard where she pinballed off some soldiers sparring there. She righted herself in time to see him strike one of her guards in the face. Unsatisfied, he kicked the other in the groin, dropping him to the cobblestones.

  Turning to her, he said through gritted teeth, “You work here until dinnertime, when we’ll have another little talk.” He kicked the retching guard until the poor injured man scuttled away from the abusive foot, and then Lord Steven left, slamming the heavy door. The bolt dropped back into place.

  The guards had courted public abuse and humiliation from their ‘Lord’, which Deena found interesting.

  Deena absorbed herself for some time in observing the courtyard activity. So this was where she’d learn to fight. She’d have to mask her ignorance as well as she was able by blaming her injuries. If this didn’t suffice she’d claim a head injury and memory loss. No, that could be dangerous. Someone who thought she’d forgotten her skills might seek to end her.

  In short order Deena would discovered that when she just let her body take the lead, it reacted with routine precision. She learned to control her strength and speed to match her sparring partner’s, to get the most out of training with the least damage to either herself or her partner. The body taught her to be wary, and how to respond, and she learned fast. This turned out to be the first of many decades of study. Deena, in time, would become an excellent fighter. She’d be fitter than she had been in the other incarnations, had in the whole of her bizarre lifetime, and what she had once perceived of as a nightmare, she began to think was a special blessing.

  His Heiney Lord Steven changed her keepers but left her alone for weeks. The vacation talk didn’t happen. He ordered the new watchmen to keep her in her quarters and only escort her to the courtyard every other day. He reinforced their obeisance with the torture of the last ones. However, the night guards often let her roam the castle with them in the early morning hours. They liked and respected her very much and thought it a good idea to be friends with, not enemies of, the assassin.

  Deena learned fast, and enjoyed her fantastic new body, but the boredom of being locked up and policed made her anxious. Her guards were compliant, as the former had been, and told her those two had survived their ordeal. The soldiers hated Lord Steven, considering him abusive, disrespectful, and undisciplined. They were, in effect, slaves, pledged to a master they didn’t respect.

  The meals were good and her quarters comfortable. For a while she was able to pretend her injuries kept her from sparring as well as whoever had inhabited this marvelous skin before had. Still, she had much to learn. She let the body’s reflexes take over and she sparred
with her partner while watching the rest practice around her. Often this led to strikes and throws she could have prevented had she been paying full attention. No one criticized, and over time she became skilled to give many others a good sweaty workout, even though she did seem to lose her concentration sometimes. She watched, she fought, and she learned.

  Lord Steven acted as though he owned her, and maybe he did. Deena needed more freedom to explore the grounds, take in the landscape and people, and make plans. Everything seemed so medieval, although with upgrades, and Deena decided these folks were just playing at it. They had created some sort of society, with historical trappings, but more recent conveniences. How far did this illusion go? Did other types of fancy regions exist nearby, or modern cities? Did the medieval fantasy encompass all?

  No work came her way, and as Deena became healthier, she needed Lord Steven to visit her. She wanted to negotiate more freedom, and get some answers, but couldn’t figure out how to make him come to her. The guards were quite sympathetic, and she didn’t want to attack them, or put them in jeopardy. She wouldn’t risk losing their good will. She made friends with them because they might be useful later. So she did the only thing she could do to bring him to her; she killed the maid.

  The stunned guards removed the body. Deena didn’t answer their questions. As good as they’d been to her, she wouldn’t take them into her confidences. As she waited for Lord Steven’s visit, she enjoyed the view through the slits in the thick stone walls. This castle had double pained glass windows, unlike the original castles on Earth. The sun shone on the rooftops below and on the hay fields beyond. This should all be hers; she had only to figure out how to take it.

  Just as she’d surmised, the loud, angry voice advanced through the halls. His fingers punched at the keypad on the wall. Fairly spitting, he barged into the room, slammed the door behind him, and came straight for her, the fool.

  She stood erect and proud in her superb body in the middle of her quarters. His momentum was such that all she had to do was step aside, hook his foot with hers, and give him a little shove. Deena grinned wickedly as Lord Steven pitched forward, flailing to avoid ramming headfirst into her sturdy wooden dresser. He recovered well and was still on his feet when he moved toward her in a menacing manner. His contempt was divine. Deena knew all about arrogance, being arrogant herself, but she’d also recognized its weaknesses. She’d learned her lesson the hard way, and so would this man.

  Lord Steven still foolishly thought he controlled the situation. He stepped up to her in his intimidating manner, about to strike, when she stunned and amazed him by grabbing him by the throat.

  Deena dug her fingers into the sides of his windpipe, cutting off the insult, and smiled as a look of surprise flash across his features. His complete megalomania had set her up marvelously. He began to raise his hands to knock away her grip on him, but she squeezed harder and said quietly, ‘No.”

  His arms fell to his sides and he glared grimly at her.

  Deena bathed in the glory of the moment, marveling in this miraculous body: so strong, well trained, and quick. She stared at the large hand gripping the fool’s throat and played a bit, squeezing, relaxing, watching him grimace and turn darker and lighter shades of purple. The evil grin didn’t leave her face and he grew a little frightened.

  Never before had Kate assaulted him. He thought he had her properly cowed. She’d endured whippings and beatings, constant surveillance, the withdrawal of food and water after she misbehaved and one long stint in a stinking dungeon cell She’d had to sleep, urinate, and defecate on the floor, and eat a gluey porridge only once a day. He thought he’d broken her to his will. He’d lived to rue his ignorance.

  “Alright.” He managed to choke out.

  “Alright!” He choked out again when she didn’t respond.

  Deena, stiff armed him to the hard vanity bench and forced him to sit. She released him and let him rub his throat. He attempted to talk while trying not to pass out.

  “What do you want?” he managed to get out, arrogant still. He mistakenly thought this was a negotiation. “More dessert?” he sneered.

  Deena focused her laser-like attention on him and he seemed to shrink back a bit.

  “I’m bored,” Deena said. “I want out of this room. I want to roam the grounds and talk to people…”

  “No one will talk to you, killer,” he spat out.

  “…and I want you to speak to me with respect. I’ll sit at your table every night and eat what you eat…”

  “Have you gone mad?”

  …”and visit with your guests. Tell them whatever you want about me, hide my identity, I don’t care, but I won’t be your slave anymore.”

  “You have gone mad. I purchased you. I own you. You’re supposed to be some kind of trained fucking commando. You barged in on my meeting with Lord Cline, your next goddamn target. Now he knows what you look like, you freak of nature, how you move, even that you’re female! He’s told his guards and all the other lords about you. You’ll never get past them again. You stupid bitch! How am I to take over the whole planet if you can’t kill the rest of the fucking lords?”

  Lord Steven’s face suffused with blood. Deena wondered idly if he might stroke out right in front of her.

  “I’m so important to you but you treat me like this?” It was Deena who snarled now.

  He looked around.

  “What? This fine room? That magnificent bathroom? Gourmet food? Better than you deserve.”

  “I kill for you to make you more powerful and wealthy and this is what I deserve? How would you go about this without me?”

  “Are you saying you won’t assassinate for me anymore? What good are you to me then? I might as well have you killed.”

  “Good luck with that,” Deena smiled. “Why don’t you do me now? Give it your best shot.”

  Deena spread her arms out to the sides in invitation. For a split second, it seemed he would take her up on her challenge, but he reconsidered and the angry energy flowed away. He glanced at the door and calmed down.

  “I know your skills. I realize you could easily take me. That’s why I was so harsh with you. You have a place here, in my kingdom, with me. Yes,” the wheels spun in his mind as Deena glared, “I can see it now. You deserve better. You’ll be my partner and sit at my right side. My protector! My advisor! You’ll eat at my table and yes…” cautiously he squirmed sideways off the stool, stood up, and looked around without losing his awareness of her, “…I’ll find you a better room, a glorious suite befitting your new status. And robes. A horse. Whatever you desire. I’ll start outfitting you today.” He went for the exit. She moved too, and placed herself between him and his escape.

  Sure, Deena thought, until you manage to poison me.

  “I need a food taster and a contingent of guards, my own picks, answerable only to me, starting with those two,” she nodded her head toward the hallway, “and the men you removed and tortured.”

  Lord Steven slumped a little and his eyes narrowed. “Now I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “I do.”

  “Kate,” he pleaded, “don’t you trust me?”

  “No.”

  “Stop,” he said angrily. “What do you want? Tell me what you really want.”

  “I want what you have - everything I’m securing for you by murdering your peers. What’s to say they won’t send someone after you? Someone like me? Or make me a better offer to get rid of you? You need me. And in exchange for your generosity, I’ll let you keep your life.” Deena said. For a while, she thought.

  Lord Steven, standing very still, blanched. For the first time he realized he was alone in a locked room with a killer. He could yell, alerting the guards to come in, but the pass code entry would hinder them. They’d be too late. He’d recently become aware they preferred her to him. The lord gathered himself and stood humbly, his palms up and out, like a supplicant.

  “I understand, Kate. You want your freedom. You have inde
ed been good to me. You’ve enriched me… us. You deserve all you ask for and more. For my life, I will grant you your wish.”

  “We understand each other?” Deena asked.

  “We do,” Lord Steven deferred with false merriment. “Come, I imagine it’s lunchtime now. Wait ‘til you taste the meal we’re having.”

  They walked to the door, eyeballing one another.

  He keyed in the code in her full view, and gestured her through the doorway. She insisted he go first which he did, and she stared at the back of his head as they walked down the hall. He was nervous at having her behind him, and turned to motion for her to come forward and walk next to him. She did, and he looped her arm in his and patted her hand.

  The guards stared at them, at each other, and followed in silence.

  Deena knew he schemed even as they went to supper. He’d have to get rid of her, but if he did, his plans would be thwarted. Who else could do what she did? Apparently he didn’t have another like her or he’d have told her he’d use the other to kill her. He must now be trying to devise a trick to gain control of her once again. She’d insist on the guards and food tasters right away, and glanced back at the two following. She knew by their stares that they wanted her guidance, her orders, and maybe an explanation. They’d have them soon. She grinned, wolf-like. As her bounty increased, those loyal to her would be rewarded.

  Lord Steven wouldn’t find a way to enslave her again. He’d give up all of his plans, strategies, tactics, and secrets in exchange for his life, and then he’d be killed.

  Lord Steven did, indeed, die, by slow hanging in the courtyard after a lengthy and humiliating ‘trial’. He was judged unfit to lead by a jury of soldiers, which Deena presided over. Her guards, among others, testified against him. His chronic and often severe abuse of the warriors they extolled at length. At first, he tried to defend himself, but eventually, he resigned to sitting glumly to await his opportunity to debunk their accusations. He never got his chance.

  While he slowly died, bound and hung, his neck unbroken, gasping for air, the soldiers ceremoniously proclaimed Kate their new Chief Commander. Deena exalted in their glory and the admirals pledged their undying allegiance to her in the actual throne room.

  Marvelous. Finally. Success, she thought as she reclined in the gold gilded and massive wooden chair carved with wreathing flowers and birds aplenty. Why the man had had such a feminine appearing seat was a ripe speculation, though it suited Deena just fine. The finery obscured the reality of her black heart, and softened her strange appearance.

  Deena knew her own deviousness well, but her serfs wouldn’t. To them she’d present a finer, gentler, fairer image. They’d be industrious, cherished, and protected, in order that they would supply her and her soldiers’ needs without complaint, delay, or rebellion. One personality she’d use on the soldiers - the nearly real one, and another she’d develop for the gentler types, a fiction they’d adore.

  At long last, Deena had triumphed.

  Deena sat at the sumptuously laden table and watched Lord Cline of Emerald Shire walk forward, escorted by a unit of her guards. She had summoned Cline and he had come. Of course, he’d been given no choice.

  The old man kneeled on one knee for her, which must have cost him dearly, considering his age and the creaking snaps his joints sounded. He waited for her to release him.

  “Lord Cline, how generous of you to accept my invitation,” Deena began. “Please sit and enjoy this fine meal with me.”

  Cline appeared pleased that she hadn’t chopped off his head for her entertainment. The guards had to help him up and into a chair because he was feeble, but also terrified. This encouraged Deena.

  “Thank you kindly, Lady Kate,” Cline boomed in his deep voice, surprising from such a decrepit visage. “I must admit I expected execution.”

  Deena laughed heartily.

  “Lord Cline,” she said, “a beheading may well be the conclusion of our meal, as yet, depending on your demeanor during our visit.”

  “I assure you, my Lady, you have my full and undivided attention.”

  “Excellent. Try the wine, an older vintage.” She smiled, speaking in a sing-song cadence, “I found the wine cellar.”

  He did taste it, never taking his eyes off of her, and involuntarily a look of pleased surprise passed over his wrinkled features.

  “Most excellent,” he exclaimed.

  “You amuse me,” Deena said, “and the pork?”

  Quickly and obediently he tried the chops and was again pleasantly surprised at the juicy, rosemary-infused flavor of them. He hoped they weren’t poisoned.

  “Lady Kate, may I compliment you on the standards you seem to be keeping?”

  “Of course, and I assure you I expect flattery and fawning. In fact, I insist.”

  “My great honor is to gratify you and it is no effort at all. I’m quite impressed.”

  They ate in silence, broken only by an occasional wordy compliment spoken by Lord Cline, until the plates and glasses were removed. Strongly flavored vanilla ice cream and coffee were served for dessert.

  “My favorite,” Deena stated.

  “And mine,” Lord Cline agreed truthfully.

  Deena smiled genuinely.

  “We seem to have many things in common,” Cline said, attempting to make a connection with the killer. He knew he played for his life.

  “This seems to be so,” Deena finished. Quickly the table was cleared by silent servants.

  Cline was surprised and pleased when Deena rose and invited him into the sumptuous private lounge just off the dining hall. As in that room, a fire roared in an enormous fireplace, trying to chase the cold damp out of the stones. Kate was clearing some of her forested regions, presumably for more agricultural area, and consuming the current stores of seasoned wood without reservation. The furniture was made of high quality hardwood and leather, the shelves were stocked with the excellent books of Earth and Faire, and Deena offered Cline a cigar from a humidor filled with precious, Earth style cigars. Well known for its tobacco products, Golden Shire traded planet wide. The servant, who otherwise stood silent and still to the side, poured brandy for them. Deena dismissed the waiter from the room as soon as Cline settled his old bones into an upholstered leather armchair which engulfed him.

  As Deena sat opposite him, a small table beside each seat and the rosy fire mellowing the light, Cline said, “Lady Kate, your hospitality is first rate and I’ll report so widely. Rarely do I enjoy visits with the lords as much as I have this one, and yet, I am nagged by the terminal doubt this shall be my last. Will you kill me tonight?” Cline dipped the wetted end of his cigar again into the brandy in his glass.

  “I appreciate the candor,” Deena replied, “but the answer depends entirely on your decisions.”

  “What would you have of me?” Cline asked calmly, though Deena could see his thin, bony chest rising and falling almost spasmodically.

  “I insist upon your total and complete allegiance,” Deena demanded.

  “Done,” Cline answered.

  “The deeds to your lands and properties.”

  “Done.”

  “Your soldiers’ absolute loyalty.”

  “Done.”

  “Your serfs’ lives.”

  “Done.”

  “I will have your children’s and descendants’ enthusiastic, enduring, and compliant allegiance, without complaint or deception.”

  Cline bowed his head and said, “It’s with exceeding pleasure to honor you thus and bequeath all that I am and own to your ladyship, in exchange for my life.”

  “These agreements will be legally bound in writing, documents to be held by me in perpetuity, dissent punishable by death.”

  “I would expect no less from as formidable an oppon…um, ally, as you,” Cline turned red as he realized and corrected his insulting mistake.

  Deena chose to cut the old man some slack.

  “Excellent. There will be a formal proceeding. My lawyers, t
heir staff, and my soldiers shall begin inventorying Emerald Shire properties tomorrow. You are more than welcome to occupy the castle and throne and maintain your lifestyle. Production must remain at peak. You’ll provide ongoing hospitality for my advisors, their guards, and the soldiers, and you’ll observe total and complete obeisance to me, and me alone.”

  “It will be my absolute pleasure, Lady Kate, to serve you, and as my first act of deference to your authority, may I assure you that as the oldest, wealthiest, and most powerful of the lords, I pledge my considerable leverage in turning the allegiance of the rest over to you.”

  As Deena smiled and smoked and sipped, Cline wondered what had just happened. How was Lady Kate impossible to deny? One felt something in her presence. The willingness to submit to her desires and to subsume one’s own permeated him and controlled his behavior. Her generosity was rapidly becoming legend. All the lords and their soldiers were aware of her deadly exploits, the stories propelled most likely by her propagandists. Her kingdom soon would be one of peace and productivity. Her ambition defined her and everyone understood she’d soon enjoy ownership of the region if not, in time, this entire world. Little opposition existed yet. Everybody adored, or at least, compliantly obeyed this deviant killer. Cline would not, on his life, buck the trend, nor would his issue. His and his relations lives depended on their obeisance, so he’d make them understand. It was a generous offer, to be allowed to remain in his own castle, on the royal seat, enjoying the fruits of Emerald Shire until his life ended, hopefully in a natural manner. Yes, she’d made quite a desirable deal with him, considering the alternative.

  People whispered that Steven had taken four days to die.

  All the lords were required to attend the transfer of authority, and they did, with their ladies, lawyers, and admirals in tow. The ceremony was magnificent. Deena’s kingdom was festooned with flags and ribbons. Musicians roamed the streets and vendors manned their booths. Soldiers in full regalia obtrusively lined the boulevards and accented the castle. Deena had layered her magnificent physique in the finest of golden colored silks. An orchid wreath adorned her head, and a gold, ruby and diamond jewelry suite she’d found in Steven’s, now her, vault draped her for this stirring occasion.

  The lords, ladies, lawyers and admirals gathered in the largest hall at the appropriate time, after sampling the wares and gaiety of the outdoor festivities. They had brought their offspring, as had been ordered. Lord Cline’s entire family, upper level staff, lawyers, employees, many of his high ranking soldiers stood in the front, decked out in their finest. The throng in the grand hall had parted, allowing Cline’s serfs to bring in and display a seemingly endless supply of valuable gifts, which were then taken to a vault under many eyes of what seemed to be a whole platoon of guards armed with firearms. Deena had found the weapons stored away in a secret armory deep under the castle.

  The giant gold gilt throne had been hauled up onto a dais so Deena could look down on the entire crowd. In front of her sat her legal advisors on finely carved, elegant chairs. A long, narrow, highly polished table was before them, cut from a single tree, upon which the binding legal documents rested.

  For six hours the gifts continued to arrive and to be presented: gold, jewels, exotic foods and plants, textiles and artisan crafts, paintings, tapestries, sculptures, furniture, and even serfs who had special talents. Cline had emptied his castle and his kingdom of all but the necessities and had even offered to give Lady Kate his own platinum gilded throne. Deena insisted he keep the royal seat. “Every shire needs a throne for their king,” she’d told him, while thinking, I own you and your damn chair anyway, regardless of location.

  Only the youngest of the children were allowed to sit on the floor when they couldn’t stand any longer. No one’s attention was permitted to wander. The soldiers who lined the enormous hall three deep had strict orders to awaken every dozer with spear butts or tips if necessary, and haul up any sitters. Rarely did the guards have to break ranks though. The process fascinated the on-looking lords who wondered when Deena would force them into the same spectacle, widely recognized be a matter of when and not if.

  Finally the procession of goods came to an end. The lawyers waited until most of the comments and rustling stopped, and then the head council read the contract aloud.

  “Hear ye, Lords, Ladies, Lawyers, and Admirals, and all assembled here this forty-fifth day of the Reign of Lady Kate of Golden Shire Kingdom this binding Proclamation: that Lord Cline of Emerald Shire Kingdom does bequeath and deed the entirety of his lands, property, buildings, streets, and other nature and improvements thereupon, including produce and production both now and in the future, all the natural constitutions of his Kingdom, his castle, throne, advisors, soldiers, and serfs, and the complete and total obedience and obeisance of him and his heirs ad infinitum, to Lady Kate of Golden Shire Kingdom. Any breach of this contract now or at anytime henceforth shall constitute a criminal act punishable by any means conceived of by Lady Kate, for any length of time declared by Lady Kate, up to and including complete and total destruction and annihilation of Emerald Shire Kingdom and all within, including serfs. This contract shall never be discussed with another individual or group not currently in this room, without direct consent of Lady Kate, under pain of death.”

  When the declaration ended, complete silence filled the hall. Not even a baby cried.

  “Lord Cline, step forward,” the lead council demanded.

  “Sign here,” he pointed to the proclamation and handed Cline a quilt pen. Cline signed, stepped back, and bowed deeply to Deena, who smiled and bent her head to him. Those who had been so directed began to clap loudly, and continued until every observer was clapping. The massive sound rang hollowly off the walls and out of the opened windows into the ears of the ignorant serfs in the streets below.

  Guards threw open the huge double doors and the lords and their entourages were herded into the Great Dining Hall, where the party continued long into the next week. Though celebration was mandatory, the splendor of Lady Kate’s bounty impressed every guest. In direct contradiction to her inhumane tyranny, the people thereafter referred to Deena as The Generous Lady Kate.