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Message-ID: <48158asstr$1086693005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vulgar Argot <vulgarargotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
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Subject: {ASSM} Princes of Mannsborough, Chapter 16
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Date: Tue,  8 Jun 2004 07:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Princes of Mannsborough, Part 16
by Vulgar Argot
(tags at bottom to avoid spoilerage)

Thule woke with the sun hitting him in the face. The alarm clock's
display was lost in direct sunlight, so he had to stagger over to his
desk to find out that it was just past six thirty. He groaned. Five
and a half hours of sleep were not enough, not after yesterday or, for
that matter, the whole week. He should go back to bed. But, there was
too much to do and his tossing and turning would only serve to wake
Sveta. He decided he would rather have an hour or two to get things
done before he had to deal with her.

After his morning ablutions, Thule started coffee. He knew that he
needed some and figured it a safe bet that Sveta would when she woke
up. Between alcohol and whatever else she'd taken, she was bound to
have a monster hangover.

Next, he booted up the computer in the living room in order to check
his e-mail. As he answered the easy ones, he gave himself time to
think about what he had accomplished and where he stood.

Brianne was, effectively, finished. At best, she had Elliot to
dominate. Elliot's only real social standing came from being with
Marigold. She might choose someone with higher social status as a
boyfriend. But, it would be as a supplicant, not a princess and it
would never have time to set before school was over. In a week, Thule
would deliver the coup de grace. He realized that he was starting to
feel bad about that again. Closing his eyes, he drew forth all of the
faces of people he could remember whose lives she had ruined until he
stopped feeling sorry for her and got angry at her again. In truth,
he'd barely done anything to get her toppled. Pointing out that the
emperor had no clothes hardly seemed like doing anything at all.

Thule still didn't understand entirely how Randy had gotten to the
whole squad so quickly. He didn't believe Brianne's assertion that
there had been something added to the beer.  There were certainly
plenty of drugs floating around But, systematically dosing every
person at a party, ally and target alike, didn't really sound like
Randy's style. And, while Thule had been in a high state of arousal
pretty much the whole time, most of that could be blamed on Sveta and,
while he hated to admit it, Brianne.

Getting up to stretch his legs, Thule walked to where he could look
through the open doorway into his room. Svetlana was still lying
there, face down, naked, evidence of the previous night's activities
no more than a shiny patch on the backs of her thighs. For a few
seconds, Thule debated waking her slowly, touching her, taking her
more gently than he had the night before. But, he doubted she was
going to wake up feeling particularly amorous, all things considered.

As he walked by the living room couch, Thule noticed that Svetlana's
little purse had fallen over, spilling its contents on the floor. As
he crouched down to gather it up, the three items that had spilled out
caught his eye. The first was a plastic baggie with maybe a hundred
white pills in it. Turning the bag over, he saw that they were stamped
with sunflowers, peace symbols, and the capital letter "E." The second
was a gold moneyclip with the letters RVA engraved on it, the V
significantly larger than the R and A. It took Thule a second to
remember that some monograms were done like that, the middlemost
letter being the surname. So, the RVA stood for Randall Aaron
Vandevoort. The topmost bill was a single, but most of the money was
hundred dollar bills, maybe two thousand dollars in all. Sveta had
been far too out of it to pick Randy's pocket on the way out. So,
Thule was forced to assume that Randy had slipped it in there himself.

The third item was a keychain with a single key on it. The key was
clearly emblazoned with the Mercedes-Benz logo. With a furtive glance
towards the bedroom, Thule turned the purse upside down, spilling the
rest of the contents on the floor. Hmmm. Lipstick, condoms, an
expensive-looking Cross pen, more than a dozen credit and charge
cards, all in her name, sixty dollars in twenties, Russian passport.

Finally, Thule found what he was looking for. Inside of the passport
was Svetlana's New York State driver's license. It had been issued
about two years before. Methodically, Thule replaced everything in the
purse, more or less in the order it had come out, snapped it shut, and
placed it on the end table by the couch. For someone who didn't drive,
she certainly had a lot of driving-related paraphenalia.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, Thule heard his e-mail client
chime, announcing the arrival of new mail. He ambled over to the
computer, scanning the new messages. As soon as he saw one was from
Maya, responding to his message that Marigold wanted to help her out,
he sat down to read it.

It said that she didn't want to accept help from Marigold, but was in
desperate enough straits that she would listen to what Marigold had to
offer. Also, it mentioned that she didn't have regular computer access
and asked if it was okay to call Thule. And somehow, thought Thule
wryly, it only took five thousand words to get that message across.

After only a momentary hesitation, Thule wrote back, "Yes. Call me,"
and added his home phone number. She should already know it by heart,
but Thule wanted to leave nothing to chance considering her apparently
deteriorating mental state. By the time he'd finished with the rest of
his e-mail, she still hadn't called. Sighing, he poured another mug of
coffee and went into the bedroom.

Placing the steaming hot mug on a side table, he gently rolled
Svetlana over, "Sveta," he said, his tone conversational.

Svetlana opened her eyes and tried to focus on him through her hair.
Thule reached down and gently pushed it out of her face.

"Dule," she said groggily, stretching and looking around, "It's true,
then. Is no dream?"

Thule nodded, "I made you some coffee if you think you can handle it.
The bathroom is right back there if you need to be sick..."

Svetlana sat up abruptly, "I never get..." She laid back slowly, her
pallor noticeably greener, "...sick from drinking," she added weakly.

"You were also drugged," said Thule.

"Da," said Svetlana, shaking her head as she rose much more gingerly
this time, "the boy, Ian, who raped me." She said it rather
matter-of-factly.

Thule turned his back to her and went to the closet, "Right."

Svetlana stood up and accepted the bathrobe that Thule wrapped around
her shoulders, "Dule," she said quietly, "I do not think he raped me."

"No," said Thule, his voice equally quiet, "I suppose not. But, he has
raped enough people that he'll never get in trouble for, maybe even as
recently as last night."

Svetlana laid a hand gently on Thule's shoulder from behind. He'd only
bothered to throw on a pair of blue jeans when he got up and shivered
a little at the touch, "Do you think he will get in trouble?" she
asked.

"With the police?" asked Thule, "Probably not. To have him arrested
would be for Ivan to acknowledge that Ian took something of value from
him. He did not seem inclined to do that. But, he's in plenty of
trouble with the Vandevoorts. And, that may be worse."

Svetlana nodded, sat back down on the bed, and took a deep swallow of
coffee. She winced as it went down. It seemed like she was going to
speak, so Thule waited patiently.

"Dule," she said, "I want to thank you."

Thule laughed, "Why am I afraid to ask what you're thanking me for?"

Svetlana laughed and lowered her head, looking strangely shy for a
moment. Then, she said, "No. I did not mean that, although I am glad
we did. I want to thank you for getting me out of there, not just
leaving me for Ivan or one of his security guards to decide what to
do." She shuddered a little, "And for taking me home with you. I heard
Ivan tell you to leave me at a bus station."

Thule shrugged, "It wouldn't have been safe. You were barely dressed
and barely conscious. That struck me as an unhealthy combination for
public transportation."

"That is it," said Svetlana, as if she'd just figured it out, "Thank
you for caring what happened to me. If you were not there, Ivan
probably would have taken me as far as the front gate and thrown me
out with the clothes on my back."

"Erm," said Thule, scratching the back of his head, "about that..." He
glanced down at the backless black dress, torn across the front.

Svetlana laughed, "It was ruined anyway. But, I will need some
clothes. Do you have anything that will even remotely fit me--enough
to go shopping for more?"

"Well," said Thule, "if you wrapped a belt around Randy's shirt, it
would be almost as long as the dress."

Svetlana picked up the shirt, examining it, "I think that 'almost'
would cross the fine line between 'fashion statement' and 'felony.'"

Thule glanced at her suspiciously. For someone with as limited a grasp
of English as Svetlana pretended, that was a remarkably astute
observation, "I could go into town and pick up something for you to
wear. What are your sizes?"

Svetlana told him. By the time she was done explaining all of the
vagaries of sizing in women's clothing, Thule realized that he would
have no idea of what to buy her.

"Err," he said, "on the other hand, I could probably find some pants
from when I was younger. You look like you're about the size I was
when I was 13 or 14."

Svetlana nodded, "There is one small problem, though."

"Oh?" asked Thule.

"I do not have very much cash in my purse and I do not know if my
credit cards will work," said Svetlana, "This is not Ivan's first
divorce. He is probably getting pretty good at them by now."

Thule nodded, "We should move quickly, then. Why don't you get a
shower while I get some clothes down from the attic?"

Svetlana smiled, "You come in later to wash my back?"

"Sveta," said Thule heavily.

"I am kidding," she said, smiling, "But, tell me you wanted to, just
for a second."

"I wanted to," said Thule, "I still want to. But..."

Svetlana's smile was even wider, "Thank you, Dule. But, answer me
something, please?"

"If I can," said Thule.

"Why even once?" she asked, "I could sense that you didn't want to.
And, you do not strike me as the sort who just accumulates notches in
his belt. You sent Matika away when you could have had both of us."

"Matika was a ringer," said Thule. "Your son hired her to make sure
that the party degenerated into a baccanalia."

"My husband, actually," said Svetlana, "And they were part of why this
party was the last straw. Ivan has done some really awful things for
Randy in the past, but....This was too much. That was why I wanted her
to be there when..."

"When we got caught?" asked Thule, "I figured that part out--that we
were supposed to get caught, that you wanted to get thrown out. I
don't know why you didn't just leave, though. Were you really a
hostage in your own home?"

Svetlana nodded, "I tried to run away twice. Each time, Ivan brought
me back. He was not going to let me go unless he threw me away.
Because I tried to run, he kept me long after he was interested in me.
It was to punish me for running."

Thule nodded, "So, you had to embarrass him."

"Da," said Svetlana, "Now, I have told you the question you are
probably too much a gentleman to ask. You answer mine."

"I think," said Thule, "that I wanted you because Randy wanted you and
couldn't have you. He took away someone very precious to me, once."

Svetlana laughed, "Randy does not want me. I throw myself at Randy, he
wants every woman but me. I try to seduce him. He moves out of the
house. I drink with him until I am too drunk to stand up, he gets me a
blanket so I can sleep. I fall asleep in his bed, he sleeps on the
couch."

"You know," said Thule, "I already consider your family plenty screwed
up without that much detail."

"Not my family," said Svetlana, chuckling mirthlessly, "not anymore.
Even if Randy did want me, he will not now."

"Before he handed me your purse," said Thule, "he slipped his money
clip into it. There's at least two thousand dollars in it. He did it
right under his father's nose."

"Ah," said Svetlana, a hint of melancholy is her voice, "my Randy. He
is so sweet to his old mama."

Thule shifted uncomfortably, "Randy is going to come to a bad end. You
would be better off without him."

"I think you are right," said Svetlana, "But, I am not so good at
doing what is good for me, even when I know what it is."

Thule had no answer for that. He said, "I'll find you some pants."
Svetlana nodded, got up, and went into the bathroom.

In the attic, Thule went first to the stack of boxes under which his
strongbox lay. Digging it out, he took a single stack of hundred
dollar bills, ten thousand dollars, out of the box before replacing
it. His hands shook while he did it. It was more money than he'd ever
had at one time before Ivan Vandevoort paid him to place the mole in
Jonas's IT department. It was a little bit more than he had in the
bank at the moment. He'd been slowly draining his savings to fund his
crusade. Over time, he'd probably spent twice what he was holding now
in surveillance equiptment, safes, safety deposit boxes, off-site
storage, and bribes in pursuit of the Vandevoorts. Still, this money
was supposed to be tuition.

Still, he had no intention of getting killed because he got schmaltzy
at the last minute. Peeling off twenty bills, he stuck them in his
wallet. The rest went in his pocket. The would go in the duffel bag
the next chance he got.

The clothes took longer to find than he expected. By the time he
wrestled the box downstairs, Svetlana was done with her shower and
lying, asleep again, on his bed. She'd taken the time to make up the
bed, but not to dress or dry her hair. Asleep, with her wet hair
spread out in a nimbus around her head, she looked absurdly innocent.

He sat down next to her on the bed. Reaching out with just his
fingertips, he gently stroked the flat of her stomach. Svetlana sighed
in her sleep, undulating a little to rise to meet him. Knowing that he
had wanted her for ignoble reasons didn't make Thule want her any
less.

Realizing that her eyes were open, Thule stopped what he was doing,
letting his hand rest on her belly, below her navel and above the line
of her pubic hair.

"I brought you pants," he said quietly.

"Maybe you would like to keep doing what you were doing before I try
them on, eh?" asked Svetlana.

"No," said Thule, taking his hand away, "That would be unwise."

Svetlana pouted at him as she sat up. As she tried on each pair of
pants, it seemed to Thule like she was deliberately turning in such a
way to maximize his view. Still, he found it impossible to look away
until she had settled on a pair of blue jeans that could charitably be
called, "distressed." They were a little big around the waist, a
little tight on the hips and bottom, and about three or four inches
too long in the legs.

After she had put on a belt and the rolled up the legs into big cuffs,
Svetlana considered herself critically in the full-length mirror, "I
look like farmer's wife, but it will do." She picked up Randy's shirt,
a red flannel button-down that looked like it could have fit two of
her inside of it, threw it on and, after a moment's consideration,
tied the ends of it together between her breasts. Thule had to
grudgingly admit that, considering how thick the shirt was and how
warm it was out, it made sense.

"My shoes are going to look ridiculous with this," opined Svetlana,
"What can we do about that?"

"I could knock the heels off, maybe," said Thule, "I don't think I
have any footwear anywhere near your size."

Svetlana looked at him skeptically, "They are my favorite shoes."

                                -=-

One last time, Thule found himself carrying Mrs. Svetlana Vandevoort
in his arms, this time for the short walk from his car into a shoe
store in North Brunsfield. The first credit card Svetlana tried there
worked. Right next door was a Victoria's Secret, where the same card
did not. A second card also didn't work. Thule looked at them, taking
one from Washington Mutual from the stack, "Try this." It worked.

"How did you know that one would work?" asked Svetlana as they headed
out to the car.

"It looks like Ivan is working from a list of your credit cards," said
Thule, "probably alphabetical by provider. We need to get you to an
ATM as soon as possible." He took the cards out of her hand, shuffled
out the ones that had been rejected, arranged the remaining ones in
reverse alphabetical order, and handed them back, "Get every cash
advance that you can. When you hit one that doesn't work anymore,
stop. We'll try to get you some clothes on the last ones before he
closes those."

Svetlana nodded and followed Thule back to the car, clutching the
cards. Her hands shook a little. When they got to a bank of ATMs, she
held out the pile to Thule, looking very vulnerable, "Could you help?"

"I don't know the codes," said Thule.

"They are all the same," said Svetlana, "Ivan's birthday, 0721."

Thule sighed as he dealt the stack out into two even piles,
alternating cards for maximum coverage. Vil Umanski would not approve.
But the sums were probably too small for Vil or Ivan to worry about.
Still, Thule wondered how many other things of Ivan's had such easy
passwords to crack.

When he finally hit a card he couldn't use, Thule had an impressive
pile of twenties in his hands. Svetlana had a much smaller pile and a
blank look on her face. Thule said, "Sveta, come here, please."

She looked over at Thule as if from a long way away, "Why?"

"Because," said Thule, "if your husband wants to make trouble with me
for emptying out his credit cards, I want you to be clearly visible on
the security tape, so that I can establish that you were with me."

Svetlana came over. Thule looked at the pile of bills in her hands,
"How did you do?" he asked.

"Twenty-five hundred," said Svetlana.

Thule laid his thick stack on top of her money, "There's another eight
thousand," he said.

Svetlana's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, "Oh, Dule,"
she said. Reaching her hands, still full of money, up around the back
of his head, she kissed him. At first, the kiss was pure gratitude and
relief, but Thule noticed as it went on that she was staring up at the
camera.

Figuring that he might as well be shot for a wolf as for a lamb, Thule
slid his hands down, cupping Svetlana's bottom, lifting her up onto
the small shelf in front of the ATM screen so that her head blocked
most of the camera's view.

Svetlana's eyes were like saucers, "Dule," she said. Thule smiled. He
could see that he'd finally managed to shock her, if only for a
second.

"Put the money away," he commanded.

Svetlana nodded, her hands coming down from the back of his head,
jamming the bills into the tiny purse, having to shift things around
to get it all in before she could cram it shut. Once she'd done that,
she reached down with both hands and undid Thule's fly.

"No," growled Thule, not pulling away, "We need to get you some
clothes before he cancels the rest of the cards. You have an hour,
tops."

But, Svetlana was already out of the pants Thule had leant her,
wrapping her legs around his hips. Thule entered her almost without
volition.

"Be quick," Svetlana grunted, raising and lowering her hips as she
slid up and down Thule's cock.

Thule, who had really only meant to give the impression of
impropriety, to create lingering doubt in Ivan's mind, rapidly changed
his plan. He drove into Svetlana hard, a desire for speed and a fear
of more immediate discovery lending him haste. Svetlana cried out so
loudly that he slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.

As it was, it seemed to take forever before he came. As he let out his
groan of pleasure, Svetlana bit his hand, causing him to pull it away.
Then, she gave a loud cry of triumph that echoed across the still
blissfully empty town square.

A few seconds later, she squirmed off of him, onto the ground,
retrieving the pants, but not putting them on, "Come on, Dule," she
said a little impatiently as she ran back towards the car, "We are
running out of time."

In the car, she pulled on a new pair of underwear, stripped off
Randy's shirt, and put on a new bra. Despite how much he'd seen of
her, Thule still found himself glancing over to watch her as she
undressed and dressed.

Only when a car headed the other way had to swerve to get back on the
road after passing them did Thule say, "Put something on over that.
You're going to cause an accident."

Svetlana thought about it and nodded, "Da," she said, "that might slow
us down."

Once at the mall, Svetlana strolled off to the ladies' room to clean
up, Thule following behind. When she came out, she surprised him by
leading him to one of the big anchor stores, not one of the more swank
little clothing boutiques that catered to the upscale clientele.

As if she could sense the question on his mind, Svetlana said, "If I
am going to start over, I can't look like Mrs. Ivan Vandevoort. I must
just be what I once intended to be--Svetlana, university student."

Thule nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of that statement. Following
her through the maze of clothing displays, he asked, "Have you figured
out what you are going to do next?"

Svetlana shrugged, "Go to New York. Find a place to stay or someone to
stay with." She stopped at a display of women's blue jeans, spinning
it like a seasoned professional shopper. Pulling a pair of jeans off
of the rack, she took Thule by one arm, positioning him between
herself and the main part of the store, "Stand here." Thule stood
where he was put.

"Then," she said, unbuttoning the pants Thule had lent her and
shimmying out of them, "I will finalize my divorce from Ivan, get my
money," She slid the new jeans on, "Fifteen million dollars is not
such bad pay for what I did. Buttoning up the pants, she asked, "How
do I look?"

"Fine, fine," said Thule. "You do know there are dressing rooms here,
don't you?"

"No time," said Svetlana, shucking the pants, "you said so yourself.
Before Ivan found me in Moscva, I was going to be university student.
Now that Ivan is done with me, maybe I will be university student here
in America." She started handing Thule every pair of jeans that
matched the numbers of the ones she'd just tried on. Then, pulling
back on the pants that Thule had lent her, she was off again. Thule
managed to snag a shopping cart as he followed her march through the
store. Again, when she got to shirts, she pulled off the oversized
shirt Randy had given her, oblivious to the stares of the few
early-morning shoppers who noticed the girl talking a mile a minute
while standing among the racks wearing nothing but a lacy, green bra
above the waist. Once she tried on a shirt she was happy with the size
of, she used it as a template for other shirts, blouses, sweaters, and
tops she wanted to buy. Soon, she had an impressive collection of
clothing and accessories. By Thule's watch, they got to the checkout
counter with ten minutes to spare. As he watched the cashier ring up
the purchases, Thule started to sweat the seconds as they ticked by.
Both he and Svetlana stood, holding their breath, while the machine
verified her credit card. Finally, it spit out a receipt for Svetlana
to sign. It took both Svetlana and Thule carrying their maximum
capacity to get the bags out to the car.

"Luggage," said Svetlana, "I can not carry all of this without
luggage. So, back into the mall they went, selecting a set of matching
luggage for Svetlana. When she tried to pay with the same credit card,
it was declined. She tried the next card up the line, also declined.
She shrugged and counted out the amount in cash.

Out at the car, Thule helped her fit everything she'd bought into the
luggage. As Thule drove off, she stripped again, discarding the
borrowed clothing, pulling on a winter camouflage t-shirt, a pair of
blue jeans, and Thule's old belt.

"How do I look?" she asked Thule.

"Good," said Thule, "and like you're on your way to a day of
skateboarding."

Svetlana looked in the mirror, digging through all of the cash in her
bag to bring out and reapply the brick-red lipstick she kept in there.
Smacking her lips, she said, "Cool."

"So," asked Thule, "where to?"

Svetlana's smile grew sadder, "I should really get going. The sooner I
do, the sooner I can disappear so that Ivan can not change his mind.
Take me to bus station, please."

Thule nodded, "There's a stop on the way to New York right here in the
mall parking lot if you want to get the bus there."

"Oh," said Svetlana, the smile completely gone from her face now.

Thule maneuvered into the lane that led to the back parking lot,
"Sveta," he said quietly, "once you get settled in, give me a call."

That brought the sad smile back, "Thank you, Dule. But, I know you
want to be rid of me before I get you killed."

"Well, yes," admitted Thule, "but, I would like to be able to get a
hold of you."

"Why?" asked Svetlana.

Thule considered for a long moment, then said, "It's clear you want to
hurt Ivan. I may have an opportunity for you to hurt him far more than
you ever dreamed possible."

Svetlana's eyes flashed. Her smile was feral now and made Thule
shiver. He was glad he wouldn't be around long enough to ever get on
her bad side.

"I would like that very much," she said.

Thule nodded as he pulled up close enough to the bus shelter to read
the schedule, "The next bus is in forty-seven minutes. We have a
little time..." Even before he finished the sentence, Thule wondered
what the hell he was thinking giving Sveta an opportunity like that.

So, her answer surprised him, "Actually," she said, "I am starving. I
saw a diner in this lot somewhere."

Thule knew the place. He turned the car around. For the next half
hour, they sat and ate breakfast, talking casually, laughing. Svetlana
managed to fake Thule out long enough to steal a couple of his french
fries. For all the world, they looked like a couple of college kids
out on a date, so much so that the help was surly with them and tried
to take their plates away before they were entirely done.

After that, Thule drove Svetlana back to the bus shelter, helped her
get the three new suitcases out of the trunk, and waited with her.
Svetlana leaned back into his arms as if cold and seeking warmth. When
the bus arrived, Thule loaded the luggage into the bottom compartment.
When he looked up, he realized that Svetlana's eyes were wet with
tears. She smiled shyly at him, "You will not forget me, Dule?"

Thule snorted, "Fat chance of that."

Standing on tip toe, Svetlana reached up behind Thule's head, drawing
him down into a kiss. It was not passionate, but grateful. And,
because no one was watching, it stayed that way.

                             -=-

Thule drove around for a while after that, taking the long way back to
Mannsborough, then circling around the town while he thought. It was
just past ten thirty when he finally decided where he was going.

He felt like everyone was staring at him when he sat down. He knew
that Jonas, Marigold, and Dawn certainly were. Marigold and Dawn were
dressed in nearly identical sundresses that must have belonged to
Marigold, although Thule didn't remember ever having seen either of
them before. Jonas was dressed in a dark gray business suit. Thule
himself was dressed in black slacks and a navy blue button-down shirt.
So, he didn't look out of place.

As the congregation sat down, Thule lowered his head and closed his
eyes, one fist in front of his mouth. When the reverend let them in
prayer, he did not follow along, but mouthed words of his own.

Neither Jonas nor Marigold nor Dawn spoke until the service was over,
except to follow the service. Thule did not rise or sit with the
service and, for a long time, just sat down, eyes closed, fist
clenched. To the last part of the service, he just sat and listened.

Jonas, Marigold, and Dawn formed up around Thule as he got up to head
down the aisle. When he got to the reverend, who was greeting
congregation members as they passed, the man said, "Bartholomew, it's
so good to see you here. Can we expect to see you next week as well?"

Thule looked up at Jonas, who seemed intent on the answer, and said,
"No, sir. I don't believe so. I haven't come to believe in this church
or the religion it represents."

The reverend gave a frustrated sigh, "You should really..."

Jonas laid a hand on the reverend's wrist, keeping him from touching
Thule. He shook his head "no," just once. The reverend dropped his arm
and let them pass. Jonas, Marigold, and Dawn followed Thule out into
the parking lot where he finally turned to face them.

"So," asked Jonas, "why did you come today?"

"I don't know," admitted Thule, "It's just..."

They waited. No one interrupted the long pause.

"It's just," Thule went on, "that, every once in a while, I really
fear for my immortal soul. Not in a hellfire and damnation sort of
way, but more about losing it in the here and now and what that would
mean. I can't think of any secular way to pray about that, so I came
here."

Jonas put a strong hand on Thule's shoulder, "I'm not sure I
understand," he said, "but I hope it helped." When it became clearer
that Thule was not going to add anything more, Jonas looked over his
shoulder and added, "I should really get back inside and glad hand it
for a while. Thule, would you mind giving the girls a ride home,
please? There's no reason they should have to stay for all the boring
church chatter." Thule nodded and Jonas walked off.

After Jonas walked off, Thule lit himself a cigarette, then offered
one to Dawn, who took it. Thule smiled, "You're trying to look cool at
church?"

"Definitely," said Dawn, indicating the sundress, "I've got to do
something to counteract the threads."

Thule laughed, "So, what do you think of Jonas's church?"

Dawn shrugged, "It was pretty enough, but church is not really my
thing."

"Mine either," agreed Thule, "Should we get going?"

"Yeah," said Marigold, "I think I could use a little nap."

                         -=-

Thule recognized the real reason Jonas had asked him to give Dawn and
Marigold a ride--to give him to talk to about whatever was troubling
him. He didn't want to talk about it, though. So, instead, they kept
the conversation light, at least until they started to pass the
school.

"Marigold," he asked, "first thing tomorrow morning, I need you to do
something for me. I jammed a pen camera behind the wire for the
emergency exit in the girl's locker room during the rape yesterday.
It's the one I took from Adam. Could you retrieve it, please? It's
very important.

"Of course," said Marigold, "but Dawn has gym first period. It might
make more sense for her to get it."

Thule said, "I'd rather you did it."

"Okay," said Marigold, "Why?"

"Err," said  Thule, "you know what it looks like. You know what, let
me see if I can get in there now." He pulled into the parking lot
outside of the gym, "Wait here."

Reaching into the glove compartment, he extracted a set of lockpicks
in a velvet bag. They were one of the items he'd been forced to
discard before the party. As it turned out, he didn't need them today
either. The outside door wasn't even locked. Inside, the doors to both
locker rooms were open, too. Taking a quick look around to make sure
that no one else was in this part of the building, he stepped into the
girl's locker room.

For all the world, it looked like nothing had happened. There was no
police tape, no indication of a crime scene at all. Thule wished he
had time to look around more carefully, but decided that he had to get
out of there as quickly as possible. Maybe the recording would
explain.

The pen camera was pointing towards the ceiling, like it had been
bumped by a shoulder or something. The battery was dead. It was never
meant to record more than a couple of hours. Thule slid it out and
pocketed it. He went back out to the car at a trot.

Dawn asked, "Did you get it?"

"I don't know," said Thule, "It was jarred funny and I won't be able
to watch it until I get a PC adapter and a new battery. I'll need to
go to New York for those. Maybe I can get away in a couple of days."

"We're going to wait a couple of days to see what's on that tape?"
asked Dawn, shocked.

Thule nodded, "Actually, there's no tape involved. It's all stored
digitally. Unfortunately, I am insanely busy Monday and Tuesday, so
Wednesday's the soonest I can get to it."

"What about today?" asked Dawn.

Thule was about to say that he couldn't do it today. The truth was
that he was exhausted and needed to catch up on his sleep. Before he
could say so, his phone rang. The caller ID was a 212 number he didn't
recognize. He sighed and answered it.

"Thule?" asked Maya.

"Hello, Maya," said Thule, "I'm glad you got a hold of me. What's up?"

"Thule," said Maya. Her voice sounded like she was crying, "I need to
see you."

Thule said, "Do you need help?"

"Yes," said Maya.

Thule said, "Will you listen to Marigold, hear what she can do to help
you?"

A pause, then, "Yes."

"Okay," said Thule, "when and where can we meet you?"

"I don't know," said Maya, "Everything is so screwed up now. I can't
take it."

"All right," said Thule, "Try to calm down. Can we meet at," he
checked the time, "around 1:30? That's the earliest I can get there."

"No," said Maya, "No. He'll still be here then."

"All right," said Thule, "What's the earliest you can meet us?"

"Six..." said Maya, "No. Make it seven."

"Okay," said Thule, "seven p.m. Where will you meet us at seven PM?"

"Umm...," said Maya.

"How about the Chelsea Square Diner? It's at 23rd and Ninth, near
where I dropped you off the last time I drove you into the city. Would
that be all right?"

"Okay," said Maya.

"Repeat it back to me," said Thule.

"Seven p.m., Chelsea Square Diner, 23rd and Ninth," repeated Maya.

"We'll be there," said Thule, "We'll be able to help. Will you be all
right until then?"

"I think so," Maya said.

"Maya," said Thule sharply, "Don't tell me you think so. Will you be
all right? Should I send the police or an ambulance?"

"No," said Maya, "No. I'll be all right until then."

"Okay," said Thule, "You're sure?"

"Yes," said Maya, "I'm as sure as I can be. I'll see you then."

"Okay," said Thule, "Seven PM at the Chelsea Square. We'll be there,
Maya. Take care of yourself until then."

"I love you, Thule."

"I love you too, Maya," said Thule without hesitation, "We want to get
you the help you need. Take care of yourself until tonight."

"I will," said Maya, "Good bye, Thule." The phone went dead.

"I guess we're going into New York today after all," said Thule, "Maya
sounds like she's finally ready to accept some help."

"Good," said Marigold. She breathed a sigh of relief, as if she had
been holding her breath.

"Can I help?" asked Dawn.

Marigold looked to Thule, deferring to his answer. Thule said, "Yes,
but we need to talk about that first. Marigold, why don't I drop you
off at home so you can get ready to go? I could pick you up around
1:30? That'll give us plenty of time to get into the city and run some
errands and still get to the Chelsea Square ahead of time."

Dawn looked at Marigold questioningly. Marigold gave her a look
indicating bewilderment. Then, Marigold looked at Thule questioningly.
He gave her a look of warning. Dawn looked at Thule questioningly.
Thule ignored her.

"Make it two o'clock or later," said Marigold, "There are some things
I need to get done today if we're going to be in the city late. Just
make sure to leave us plenty of time."

"Will do," said Thule. Then, he changed the subject to what they could
do in the city before meeting Maya.

"Actually," said Dawn, still watching Thule suspiciously, "I have a
gift certificate I got as a present for my eighteenth birthday. It's
for body piercing."

"Cool," said Marigold, "I've been thinking about getting my ears
pierced. We could go together."

"Uh, sure," said Dawn, "That would be cool--moral support and all
that."

"What are you planning on getting pierced?" Thule asked.

"Just the belly button," said Dawn, pulling up her shirt to show the
spot, "I'm too chicken to do anything more daring."

"Surgical steel or eighteen karat gold," said Thule, "Otherwise, you
run a high risk of infection." He drew up in front of Marigold's
house, got out, came around, and opened her door. On the front porch,
he hugged her hard, then kissed her on the mouth. She kissed him back,
relaxing into his arms.

"What are you going to do to Dawn?" she asked.

"I just need to talk to her," said Thule, "It will be easier if you're
not there."

Marigold kissed him again, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Thule smiled, "I doubt I'll get anywhere near that line." Letting her
go, he walked back to the car.

As he got in, he said, "You can get in the front seat if you like."

"Are you sure?" asked Dawn.

"Of course," said Thule.

Dawn got out of the car, came around, and got back in.

"So," Dawn asked after a couple of minutes of driving in silence,
"what's up?"

"I just thought we needed to clear the air on a few things," said
Thule, "I've got a few things to do at the house. Can you come hang
out while I do them?"

"Do you think Marigold will mind?" asked Dawn.

"Will she mind if her boyfriend and her girlfriend hang out for an
hour or so?" asked Thule, "I don't think she'll mind."

Dawn stiffened in her seat, but looked resigned, "You know. How do you
know?"

Thule smiled kindly, "When I got back from Randy's party, I wanted to
see her. I called her on her webcam. I could see you sleeping behind
her."

"Are you mad?" Dawn asked.

"No," said Thule, "I'm not. The timing could have been better, but I
sort of expected it to happen for a while now."

"You did?" asked Dawn, blinking incredulously.

Thule nodded, "She asked me a long time ago...well, it feels like a
long time ago, but it was only a few weeks," he sighed wearily, "She
asked me if she could play with girls. At the time, I could only think
of two girls she knew who swung that way."

He sighed again, trying to wipe fatigue from his temples with one hand
as he drove, "Practically every time I get to spend substantial time
with her, she surprises me with how much she's changed."

"So, you're not mad?" Dawn asked again.

Thule reached over and messed her hair, "I told you I'm not." Then,
more seriously, "She's going to need friends, one way or another. I
can't always be there for her."

"You're sounding rather fatalistic," observed Dawn, matching his
serious tone.

"I'm running out of time," said Thule, "Too many people know I'm up to
something. I've trusted people I shouldn't have trusted. I'm getting
sloppy. Nothing is going as I planned."

Dawn asked, "How bad is it?"

Thule looked forward blankly, "I've already said more than I meant
to."

"Come on," said Dawn, slapping Thule on the shoulder, "You're not
going to clam up on me, are you? I'm supposed to be Robin to your
Batman, Beaker to your Dr. Honeydew..."

"Sancho Panza to my Don Quixote?" asked Thule.

Dawn looked puzzled, "I don't think I've seen that one."

"Seen?" asked Thule, "It's a book--by Cervantes. You haven't heard of
it?"

"I have dyslexia. It gives me trouble reading," admitted Dawn,
"Fortunately, I was born into the right generation for it."

"Really?" asked Thule, "So, if I were to say you were Iago to my
Othello..." He trailed off.

"We don't read Othello until senior year," said Dawn.

"Hmmm," said Thule. "Fancy that."

                                   -=-

Thule led Dawn down the basement stairs.

"Have a seat," he said, "I've just got to get a few things done down
here while I have the time." As Dawn started to sit on the steps
coming down from upstairs, he added, "No. Not there. Use the inclined
weight bench."

"Why?" asked Dawn.

"You're a fire hazard there," said Thule, "Plus, it's all dusty."

"In the event of a fire," said Dawn, taking the seat Thule
recommended, "I would probably move." Thule was stacking free weight
plates on the floor. As she leaned back, she looked up at the bar, "Is
this how much you lift?"

Thule chuckled, "That's what I lift as part of my warm up."

"No way," said Dawn, looking at the weights.

"You could probably lift that much," said Thule, "You just need the
right technique."

"Really?" asked Dawn, "What technique?"

Thule laughed, "Well, for future reference, a borrowed sundress made
for a girl six inches shorter than you is probably not the best choice
of outfit for this."

Dawn looked down. The dress had ridden up a bit when she'd straddled
the bench, the hem now dropping to midthigh.

"No peeking," she said, smiling coquettishly at Thule.

"Do you want to learn the technique or do you want to flirt?" asked
Thule, somewhat severely.

"Can't I do both?" asked Dawn.

"Not at the same time," said Thule. "This requires concentration." He
stood behind the bar in the spotter's position.

"Start," he said, "with your hands together in the middle of the bar."

Dawn did so. Thule said, "Close your eyes and take a deep breath."

Dawn did. Thule looked at her for a long moment. Then, he took one of
her wrists in his hand and pushed it so that her hands were slightly
parted on the bar. Still holding the wrist, he reached into his pocket
and drew out the cuffs. The first went on without a problem. Dawn's
eyes flew open and she tried to pull away, but Thule was much stronger
than her and in less than a second, he had the other cuff over the
weight bar and around her other wrist. Dawn gave a cry of alarm and
tried to rise, but Thule's free hand caught her in the center of the
collarbone and pressed her back to the bench.

"Please," he said, breathing a little heavy, "don't do that again. You
could really be hurt if you knock the bar free or flip the bench
over."

"Thule," asked Dawn desperately, "What the hell are you doing?"

"As I said before," said Thule "We need to talk."

"I can talk without being handcuffed," said Dawn, trying to rise
again. Thule pushed her back down.

"I know," said Thule, "but this is important. I want you to take it
seriously. I need to know some things. And, if I don't like the
answers I get, I'm going to have to leave you here for a few hours."

"Thule," Dawn pleaded, "what is this about?"

"Please," said Thule, a note of supplication in his voice, "just let
me ask my questions. Afterwards, I'll explain anything you want to
know. Or, you can call the police and tell them what happened. I
recommend the state police. The local police might be inclined to look
the other way."

"What's going to happen?" asked Dawn, fear creeping into her voice.
"Thule, are you going to rape me?"

"No," said Thule as soothingly as he could. He reached out to pet her
hair reassuringly, but thought better of it, "I would never do that.
I'm just going to ask you some questions that are a matter of life and
death to me. If you give me your word that you'll answer them
completely and truthfully, I won't have to drug you. I don't want to
drug you." His voice started to break, "God, Dawn. I don't even want
to scare you, but I can't take any chances that you're being evasive.
Please, promise you'll answer completely and truthfully."

"Thule," said Dawn reassuringly, "it's okay. What do you want to ask
me?"

"Dawn," asked Thule, "who lives in the red house to the left of
yours?"

"The Kanes," said Dawn.

"Dawn was your ride to school," said Thule, "before me. The one who
you said flaked out on you."

It wasn't really a question, but Dawn said, "Yes, she was."

"Did she tell you to get a ride with me?" asked Thule.

"I don't..." started Dawn.

"Dawn, please," said Thule. It came out more sharply than he meant it
to.

"Oh, Thule," said Dawn, "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize..."

"Dawn," said Thule reassuringly, "Listen. Whatever happens here, now,
whatever you say, I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm not going to seek
revenge on you...."

"Why not?" asked Dawn sharply.

"What?" asked Thule.

"I'm sorry," said Dawn. The blush was clear in her face, "Continue."

Thule took a deep breath, "Did June Kane tell you to get a ride with
me?"

"Not the way you say it," said Dawn, "It wasn't like an order. It was
more like a taunt, like 'Maybe you can get a ride with your dreg
friend, Marigold.'"

"Didn't you think it at all suspicious," asked Thule, "that June Kane
was kicking you out of her car and, less than a week later, making
romantic overtures?"

"I was stupid," said Dawn, "Do you know what it's like when someone is
just so beautiful that you can't think straight?"

Thule laughed mirthlessly, "Far more often than I would care to
admit."

"I told myself it was like little boys being mean to girls they like,"
said Dawn, "June is mean to everyone. So, if she was extra mean to
me..."

Thule's voice was firm now, "Dawn, how much did you tell June Kane and
Brianne about me?"

"I don't know," said Dawn, "I really don't. For a while, every time I
talked to Brianne, it seemed like she was talking about you. I think
she has a real thing for you."

"You were talking to Brianne" asked Thule, "after that catfight in the
halls. Was that some kind of a setup?"

"What?" asked Dawn, "No. Dammit, Thule. I didn't do any of this on
purpose. I talked to Brianne because she was being nice to me and I
preferred that to her hating me. I never set out to betray you. I
thought my answers were protecting you. I thought they would help make
Brianne like you. I thought you were trying to get by, just like
everybody else."

"You never knew you were reporting back to Brianne on me?" asked
Thule.

"No," said Dawn vehemently, "As soon as I figured it out, I wouldn't
tell them anything else and Brianne got mean again. And, all of a
sudden, I'm fair game to every guy in school with a grabby urge. When
Marigold told me how Brianne used her to get at Maya, I felt sick to
my stomach...because I knew she had pulled the same trick on me with
you. Thule, I'm sorry."

"What did you say to Brianne that would make her think I was on a
crusade?" asked Thule.

"I believe my exact words were, 'Thule is so intense. I think he's on
some sort of crusade.'"

"Did you specify what sort of crusade?" asked Thule.

"I didn't know what kind of crusade," said Dawn, "I was speculating.
By the time I had any details, I wasn't talking to Brianne about you
anymore."

"Can you think of anything you might have told her to indicate the
real state of affairs between me and Randy?"

Dawn thought, "I never mentioned Randy specifically, but I did tell
her that you considered the popular boys at Mannsborough to be a
school of sharks."

"Think hard, Dawn," said Thule. "Did you ever tell Brianne or June
anything that would have made it clear that I was planning something
against Randy or Brianne?"

Dawn thought, then shook her head, "No. By the time I even suspected
what you were up to, I already knew that they meant for me to spy on
you. I...I believed that you really were becoming like them, that you
wanted to be popular and hang out with Randy. So, that's what I told
them."

Thule heaved a deep sigh of relief, "Is there anything else you think
I need to know while I have you here?"

"No," said Dawn, shaking her head. "I can't think of anything."

"Thank you Dawn," said Thule. Taking out his keychain, he crouched
behind her head, "I'm going to uncuff you now, unless you can think of
some reason I shouldn't."

 From where he was crouching, Thule could see the flush rise across
Dawn's cheeks, but she managed to stammer out a weak, "No."

As he was undoing the cuffs, Thule said, "If you're going to call the
police on me, I'd appreciate a two hour head start." He helped her up
from the bench to a standing position. As Dawn stood up, she slapped
Thule hard in the face. When he didn't respond beyond the initial
flinch, she put both hands in the middle of his chest and shoved him.
To be polite, Thule staggered backwards a couple of steps.

"Dammit, Thule," she shouted at him, "I was almost raped yesterday. If
you're not going to rape me, don't tie me up like that."

In spite of himself, Thule grinned. This infuriated Dawn further. She
launched herself at him, head down, fists pounding at his chest, loose
handcuff still flapping off of one wrist. When she started crying,
Thule felt his resolve dissolve and wrapped his arms around her,
crushing her to him. She clung to him, crying herself out. Thule had
an odd sense of deja vu, but that didn't keep him from petting her
hair and whispering soothing words.

                           -=-

When Dawn came back from cleaning herself up, Thule was sitting at the
main computer in his room, studying a web site about surveillance
technology. He wasn't fully aware Dawn had come out of the bathroom,
"Thule, your ear is bleeding."

Thule reached up behind the ear facing her. His fingertips came away
red, "Actually," he said, "I think it's behind my ear."

"Oh, man," said Dawn, "you're bleeding a lot."

Thule looked over and saw that Dawn had grown noticeably paler.
Standing up, he said, "I'll take a look at it, but I wouldn't worry.
Head wounds tend to be very dramatic."

Walking into the bathroom, he kept his hand on the spot, feeling for
how big the area of tenderness was. It didn't seem too large. Probing
with his fingers and differentiating between the dull pain of a
contusion and the sharper pain of an incision, Thule estimated that
the cut was about a quarter inch long. Pushing his hair aside as well
as he could to see the cut caused a few drops of blood to drip, red on
otherwise spotless white porcelain. Dawn gasped behind him, making her
presence known.

"I was right," he said soothingly, "It's a tiny, little cut. I can
just let it bleed out, then wash my hair."

"What?" asked Dawn, looking horrified, "You're just going to let it
bleed? Oh, for pity's sake. Where's your ice?"

Thule wondered if it was a trick question, but decided to go with the
obvious answer, "In the freezer."

"Right," said Dawn, "you sit down. I'll be right back."

Thule shrugged, walked to his bed and sat down. He felt fine. He would
probably have a small lump there, but the cut wasn't particularly
worrisome. More than ice, he needed Tylenol. But, if Dawn wanted to
baby him a little after what he'd just put her through, he wasn't
going to fight too hard.

Dawn came in with a bundle of ice. Thule looked at what she had it
wrapped up in, "Oh," he said, "don't use that dish towel. It's
practically brand new. Let me get a rag."

He tried to get up, but Dawn put a hand in the middle of his chest and
shoved him back against the headboard. She didn't really have the
strength to do it, but she caught Thule so much by surprise that he
actually tumbled backwards, banging the back of his head.

"Ow," he said involuntarily, rubbing the back of his head, "Jeez, if
you want to kill me, there's a gun in my duffel bag. It's not
necessary to beat me to death."

"Well, then, hold still," said Dawn. She had clambered up into his lap
and was now straddling his legs so that she could reach behind his ear
and place the ice there. Actually, the ice did feel good, even if it
was more for the swelling than the actual cut.

Of course, now Dawn was straddling his lap and her chest was, if not
actually in his face, then right under his chin. Thule didn't want to
embarrass Dawn by pointing this out. She was already off-balance
enough and would probably figure it out in a few seconds on her own
and move.

If she noticed, she didn't move, "Thule, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he said, "I don't think anything you told Brianne or Jane
is going to hurt me. It might even get them more on my camp."

"I meant about cutting you," said Dawn, sounding exasperated, "I must
have caught you with the loose handcuff when I slapped you."

"I'll live," said Thule, "And don't apologize. I deserved it. Dawn,
I'm so sorry I did that to you."

"You scared the shit out of me," said Dawn emphatically, "Thule, what
would you have done if it turned out that I had deliberately betrayed
you to Brianne and June?"

"I would have left you there," he answered immediately, "long enough
to get everything I had to the FBI in New York. Then, I would have
come back and let you go."

"Thule," asked Dawn, sitting back so that they were eye-to-eye,
"Didn't you even consider exacting some kind of revenge while you had
me tied up like that? What I did is almost identical to what Marigold
did and you got revenge on her." Unbelievably, Thule noticed that she
wasn't blushing. Clearly, she didn't notice the immediate, atavistic
response the question had elicited in him physically.

He considered his answer diplomatically, but ultimately answered
truthfully, "Honestly," he said, "no. If I were to do something to you
while you were cuffed and unable to get away, it would be rape. I
couldn't do that. I thought I could, once...to Brianne. But, I never
would have been able to go through with it. And, if I had, I would
have just ended up trying to save her. It's one of the shortcomings of
the knight business. Nice shining armor, big white horse, full dental
and medical, but you can't ignore a damsel in distress."

"What if it wasn't rape?" asked Dawn. "What if I wanted you to?"

Thule knew that it was a question that wasn't meant to be answered
with words. Dawn looked up at him, big brown eyes clear and trusting,
full lips barely parted, breathing shallow. Thule put his hand between
her shoulderblades and committed to the kiss. Dawn's eyes closed. Her
mouth opened a little wider.

The doorbell rang. Dawn's eyes flew open. She started to get off of
Thule's lap. But, Thule's other hand came up to the back of her neck,
holding her in place so that he could kiss her. For a moment, she
struggled to pull away, but it was over before it even registered. She
slid forward, wrapping her legs around Thule's waist. One hand
balanced against his chest, the other moved to the back of his head.

Thule flinched as Dawn's fingers touched the freshly tender spot on
the back of his head. As he did, he dislodged the loosely packed ice
from the dish towel. The half-melted cubes slid down his back and
shoulders, a fair number lodging in the back of his shirt.

"Shit," he exclaimed, jumping up and tumbling Dawn backwards onto the
bed. When she looked up, he was already violently pulling off his
shirt. Her hands were on the top button of her sundress before
realization dawned on her face.

As Thule dropped the shirt on the ground, he said, "Shit," again.
Then, he added, "Dawn, stay here. I recognize that car. It belongs to
one of Ivan's thugs." Reaching into the bottom of the closet, he
pulled the handgun out of his duffel bag and, hugging the wall, made
his way to the front door. As he was creeping, the doorbell rang
again.

Jake was waiting on the front step. Crew cut, dark aviator glasses.
Thule wondered if the guy had a closet full of identical black
outfits. Still, he didn't appear armed and was in the process of
trying to shield his face from the wind enough to light a cigarette.

Thule opened the door cautiously, keeping the gun hidden behind the
door frame, "What?" he said.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jake asked. Then, "Jeez, do you know
you're bleeding?"

"Yes and yes," said Thule.

"Sorry," said Jake. "The boss says he wants to see you."

"I can't come now," said Thule. "Tell him I can come Tuesday."

Jake winced, "He's not going to like that."

Thule turned so Jake could clearly see the gun, "What he likes is of
only passing interest to me. I don't work for him."

Jake looked down at the gun, "Whoa," he said, raising his hands a
little, "take it easy. I'm just a messenger. Tell me what you want me
to tell him and I will. I don't do the muscle thing." Taking a drag
from his cigarette, he added, "I don't have the lung capacity for it."

"Sorry," said Thule, flicking the safety back on. "Anything else?"

The thug looked one way, then the other and before asking, "You don't
still have Mrs. Vandevoort in there, do you?"

Thule scowled, "What business is that of yours?"

"Sorry," said the Thug, "just asking. The boss may be pissed at her,
but some of us would still like to know she's okay."

Thule sighed, "She's okay. She's not here. I put her on a bus this
morning."

The thug raised an eyebrow, "This morning?"

"Yes," said Thule, "this morning. You're pretty nosy for a messenger,
aren't you?"

Jake shrugged. Before he could answer, Dawn called out from behind
Thule, "Brute Squad?"

Jake craned his neck to see around Thule, "Wildcat? Is that you?"

"Brute Squad," shrieked Dawn. Thule turned around enough to realize
that Dawn was barreling towards him, arms outstretched. He ducked out
of the way just fast enough to avoid being run over as Dawn launched
herself into the thug, wrapping her arms around his chest.

"Uh, Dawn," the thug said, looking helpless, "I'm trying to be all
tough here. Could you maybe loosen the grip before I pass out?"

Dawn hugged him for a few seconds more before releasing him. Then, she
said, "Thule, you didn't tell me you knew Jake."

"'Know' is kind of a strong word," said Thule, "We've done some
business together."

"Oh, my God, Jake," said Dawn, "It's been forever. Come on in. How the
hell have you been?" Then, before either man could react, she had Jake
by the hand and was pulling him into the living room. He looked over
his shoulder beseechingly at Thule, who could do nothing but shrug.

"I've been all right," said Jake, "keeping busy. What about you? God,
it's been like four years. You're all grown up."

"You like?" asked Dawn. Dropping his hand, she spun around so fast
that her skirt rose perilously high.

"Err," said Jake. He looked at Thule, who shrugged again.

"You'd better say 'yes,'" said Thule.

"Yes," said Jake, "You're looking real good. But, are you with this
lug?" His eyes shot towards the open bedroom door.

"Nah," said Dawn, waving her hands dismissively, "I was...we
were...using his gym down in the basement and he cut himself. I was
putting ice on it."

Jake tilted his head, looking at the cut, "That little thing?"

Thule raised his hands, "Her idea."

"God," asked Dawn, "what it is about boys that you can't admit you're
hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," said Thule. Even he had to admit that it sounded
churlish, so he added, "Jake, can I get you something to drink while
you two catch up?"

"I could use a beer," said Jake, "It's been a long night."

"It's noon," said Thule.

"Like I said," pointed out Jake, "a long night."

"Dawn?" asked Thule.

"A beer," she said.

Thule and Jake both turned skeptical eyes towards her, "A Coke," she
said, sighing.

Thule brought back a beer and two Cokes from the fridge.

"Wait a second," said Dawn accusingly, "you're not supposed to be
drinking either."

"A really long night," said Jake, taking a drink "You really stirred
up a shitstorm at the mansion last night. Fucking Umanski sent a tail
to see where you took the missus."

Thule winced. Dawn asked, "Who's the missus?"

Thule managed to speak first, if only by a second, "The
soon-to-be-former Mrs. Svetlana Vandevoort."

"Randy's mother?" asked Dawn, "Where did you take her?"

"Here," said Thule weakly.

"Jesus Christ," exclaimed Dawn, "Why?"

"She needed somewhere to sleep," said Thule defensively.

"Oh," said Dawn sitting back, "I'm sorry, Thule. I should have known
better than to think that you..."

"I did," said Thule weakly, almost too low for either of them to hear.

"You did?" asked Dawn, jumping to her feet. Taking two steps forward
to where Thule was sitting, she slapped him in more or less the same
spot, "And I almost..." Paling, she saw Jake hanging on her next word,
turned and fled out the back door.

"Well," said Jake, taking a sip of his beer, "she hasn't changed
much."

Thule rubbed his face while using his tongue to check for lost teeth.
Finally, he said, "That was impolitic."

Jake shrugged, "Sorry, man. You said you and she weren't together."

"Actually," said Thule, "She said that she and I weren't together. I
didn't say anything. And, we're not. But, she's real simpatico with
Marigold, who I am with."

Jake shrugged, "You shouldn't have slept with the Missus, then."

"No kidding," said Thule. There was no humor in his laugh.

"Tell me about it," said Jake.

Thule looked at him sharply, "Don't tell me you..."

"No," said Jake raising his hands, "I value my balls, my life, and my
job, roughly in that order. How you're going to keep the boss from
killing you is anybody's guess."

"You think he'll kill me for this?" asked Thule, almost as if it
didn't matter.

"Probably not," said Jake, "A couple of the guys made that mistake. He
just sicced Vil Umanski on them."

Thule shuddered, "And that's better than death?"

Jake chuckled, "Vil's a sweetheart, as long as you don't cross him. He
convinced the guys that they'd be better off in another part of the
country. He protects the family's interests, but he's not
as...passionate as the boss. If you do get into trouble over this,
he's your best bet for saving your ass."

"That's very comforting," said Thule.

Jake shrugged and said again, "You shouldn't have slept with the
Missus."

Thule groaned and rubbed his temples.

Jake emptied his beer, "Would you mind if I used your backyard to get
reacquainted with an old friend?"

"Be my guest," said Thule, "How do you know Dawn, anyway?"

"I grew up with her brothers, the three Ds," said Jake.

Thule nodded again, too tired to ask who the "three Ds" were. Tension
and exhaustion were warring inside of him and exhaustion was winning.
By the time the back door closed, he had slumped in his seat and was
already fast asleep.

Princes of Mannsborough, Part 16
by Vulgar Argot
(MF, exhib)

--Vulgar Argot
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VulgarArgot/www
--
"Vulgarity begins when imagination succumbs to the explicit."
  --Doris Day

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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