Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Birth, Daiva 02
   by Nysidra
   <->
   -_ Labor _-
   Antonio read from a book of poems while Yeasmine labored over her indoor
garden on the kitchen table.  Single shoots rose from tiny pots she had
fashioned herself from woven pine needles.  Poetry, stories, song: these
seemed to keep her calm, and he was only too happy to share his favorites.
   Watching her work was no burden.  Already a budding woman, her breasts
and hips and swelled along with her belly.  At times, he longed to have her
turn some of that kindness and attention his way.
   She looked up as if hearing a voice.  "Tiara is coming up the road."
   "I'll escort her inside, my lady."
   She shot him a glare, but the corners of her mouth curled upwards.
   Antonio opened the door and looked around.  That he didn't see her yet,
didn't mean she wasn't coming.  He parked on the front porch and counted
the shifting curtains, faces peaking out the windows.  Their neighbors were
curious, but not treacherous.  It had been Yeasmine's generosity to them
that insured such loyalty.
   Tiara turned the corner and headed up the road.  She smiled and waved.
"So much for surprises."
   "Her prescience is stronger now."
   "Ah."
   "She told me that Kara knows."
   Tiara nodded.  "She awaits news of her misfortune."
   "Rico and Kevin?"
   "Kevin for sure.  I told him."
   Yeasmine leaned in the front door frame.  "What did you tell my mater?"
   "I told him," she smiled to her, "that I have been gathering ingredients
to treat your condition."
   "Do you enjoy studying me?"
   Tiara's smile deepened.  "I will do everything in my power to see your
baby is healthy."
   They moved the conversation inside.
   Antonio asked, "How are things at the house?"
   "They are putting down a foundation for new buildings.  She handled the
city council.  I think it's too soon, but no one asked my opinion." Tiara
sat beside Yeasmine.  "How are you feeling?"
   "Better when I'm balanced."
   "You sound good.  Are you keeping busy?"
   "I make sure to stay covered up when I'm out walking.  Been teaching
myself to read.  Slow going."
   "Reading?  That's wonderful." Tiara smiled at Antonio.  "I'm proud."
   Antonio shook his head.
   "I go to the school houses and listen.  When they throw out the books, I
look through them.  He teaches me plenty though.  Epics, sung tales."
   "I bet.  With the books, how do you know if you make a mistake?"
   "I listen."
   Tiara reached out and moved her hand over Yeasmine's belly.  "How is the
pain?"
   "Less often, but when it hits I have to lay down.  I can't move until it
passes."
   Tiara sighed.  "The process of birth requires the female anatomy to
change.  I have a theory, that your pain ...  your whole pregnancy is
labor, resisting the restorative pull of your daiva energies."
   The zeal in Tiara's voice soured Yeasmine's expression.
   Tiara smiled and combed the girl's hair behind her shoulder.  "And I
think you have more than one child."
   "You think?"
   "Yes."
   "Missed your calling," Yeasmine muttered.
   "You don't seem too excited."
   "That's not news.  That's an explanation." Yeasmine grimaced and
shifted, rolling her shoulders.
   "An explanation of what?"
   "The voices."
   "Would you mind explaining that?"
   "I would." Yeasmine extended her hand, and Antonio helped to her up.  "I
need to lie down."
   Antonio helped Yeasmine to her feet then ushered Tiara out the house. 
He locked it behind him.
   "You're just going to leave her in there?"
   He nodded.  "I bother that girl for the next four hours and I'm going to
'see if that lump of flesh grows back after I snatch it off and fry it up
for breakfast.'"
   Tiara gasped.  "She said that?"
   Antonio laughed.  "That's not in the top five.  What did you really tell
Kevin?"
   "The truth.  Can you keep secrets from her?"
   Antonio shook his head.  "Neither can you.  Get back to Kevin, and leave
her to me.  Don't lie to her again.  She needs you."
   ***
   Yeasmine scanned the lower branches from her perch in the tree.  Getting
up wasn't that bad, but no matter how she figured it, each way down was
blocked.  Either her balance was off or her ability to bend and stretch
compromised.
   The sun was well in the sky now.  Tiara was probably at the house. 
Antonio expected her back shortly after daybreak if she stayed the night.
   Soon she would hear Antonio belting out her name as if she were a lost
child.
   Any minute now.
   Foot steps.  The din of bird song, insects, and rodents made it hard to
pick up at first.  Not Antonio's gait.
   She pulled on the branch over head until she could sit up far enough to
look behind her.  "Why are you here?"
   "I'd like to answer your question with a question, my love.  Just point.
Where is Dante right now?"
   Dante?  How in the hell was she...?  Yeasmine pointed toward the south,
a little bit west.  As surely as she knew her name, he was straight along
that line, near the coast.
   "Oh," she whispered.
   Kevin scaled the tree with the ease she once had, a grace that had been
hers before she turned into a swollen water balloon.
   His dark brown hair was slicked back.  That angular jaw and piercing
eyes.  She'd once thought him so dashing.  Now she could only see him as a
thill-seeking predator.
   "Would you like my help getting down?"
   Yeasmine scowled, but he didn't grin, laugh, or even mock her situation.
"I'm too heavy." Her eyes teared up and she turned away from him.
   "Nonsense." He leaned forward as if he were going to kiss her.
   Yeasmine pulled back.
   "What's in your way?"
   She pointed to her belly.
   "The tree, girl."
   She huffed and shifted around until she could look down.  "That branch
there."
   Kevin swung down and ripped the branch away as if it were no more than a
dry twig.  "Come on then."
   "You're not going to carry me?" She frowned.
   "Not yet.  You can get this far on your own."
   She slipped down the tree, and got past the opening that without that
damn branch digging into her side.  Once she arrived at the lower branches,
Kevin cradled her and got her the rest of the way.
   "I can walk."
   "And I can carry you." He did so until they reached the well-worn foot
path.  "Look at you, all bountiful and radiant."
   She nodded, but was wary of where they were headed.
   "Tiara was supposed to bring you by to talk to me." Kevin pointed to the
small house ahead.
   "Fine." She marched forward.
   "How's Antonio treating you?" He shut the door and signaled her to
follow him.
   "I can take care of myself."
   "I know, but how are you going to rejuvenate yourself the next time you
get caught in a tree?"
   "My tree climbing days are over.  I got that.  Nothing about being
pregnant that I need to hide from people."
   "Not from people, other daiva."
   She frowned at him.
   "You are doing well where you are.  When Tiara comes to see you, if you
need her, then say so."
   Yeasmine went sat on the edge of the bed.  "I know what you want from
me." She narrowed her gaze at him.  "You and Tiara.  I ain't stupid."
   Kevin grinned.  "Your brilliance is only limited by your current
situation, love.  If you know, then you understand how important it is to
me that you let them protect you.  That you protect and look after
yourself."
   "Yes."
   "So," Kevin sat beside her and took her hand.  "How is Tony treating
you?"
   She shook her head with a sour smirk.  She crooked her finger and waited
until he was close enough for her to whisper in his ear.  "You think I
would let a man touch me after the way you all treated me?"
   "Ah, how long after I 'treated' you until you saw me?"
   She shrugged.
   "A whole day.  Do you know where I was?"
   She shook her head.  "I was in bed."
   "As was I, little one.  I lay in bed healing.  Thank goodness for that.
I have never been so gravely injured, my love." He kissed her ear lobe. 
"Two qua I have never seen before in a woman, and a woman I have never seen
the likes of before.  I didn't love you when I found you, but be damned if
I don't love you now."
   Yeasmine stiffened and balled her hands in her lap.
   Kevin pulled her hands apart and tugged at the edge of her shirt.
   "Don't touch me."
   He stopped and dropped his hands, then took her hand and placed it to
his shirt.
   "What?"
   "Take it off.  Don't you worry.  I have no plans to hurt you." He
chuckled.
   She lifted one brow, but unbuttoned his shirt, all the while waiting for
him to do something, say something.  He just sat there.  She pushed the
shirt back and looked at his chest.  Broad chest muscles, ripples along his
abdomen, dark brown curls that thickened near his trousers.
   Yeasmine pulled back from him.  "Do the rest."
   "Oui, madame."
   Yeasmine bit her tongue and grinned, but then she was just grinning, her
eyes widened as he stripped naked.  In the sunlight she could not deny he
was a handsome man.  She pushed off the edge of the bed and walked over to
him, walked around him, leaned in a bit and took a breath.  He smelled ...
She blinked and cleared her head.
   She said, "Lay down on your back."
   "Oui, madame." Kevin crawled onto the bed and folded his hands behind
his head.
   She rubbed the heel of her hand along her cheek.  Her face was burning
up.  "Apologize."
   "I've heard this command once before.  Again, for what?" He turned his
head to the side, his eyes never leaving her as she peeled out of her
clothes.  "We have a theory.  The qua are not arbitrary.  They arrive with
time, but tend to suit the daiva's needs.  I set out to kill you that night
and you nearly killed me.  What am I sorry for?"
   Yeasmine crawled onto the bed, reared back and smacked him.  The first
time wasn't hard enough so she did it again.  "For being a knuckle-dragging
loon."
   He chuckled.  "I am not."
   She brought her fist down hard on his chest.  "For raping me."
   "I heard I was your first.  That explains why your pussy was so tight."
   She pelted his face and chest with slaps, but stopped when it occurred
to her that she only hit him because he allowed it.  When she had nearly
killed him, he allowed that too.  "You should," she sniffled, "apologize
for--"
   "Being hard on you?  Woman, do you know what misery and torture will
arise when the other daiva find out you gave birth?  And you'll do it, my
love, and your children will be healthy.  You think I was cruel?  What will
you have to fight when someone attempts to enslave you for the chance at a
child?  Hard on you?  There are caste systems more gentle on its people
than your own country treats you.  I'm not fucking sorry, Yeasmine!"
   "Then lie!" She screamed.  "Just fucking lie!"
   He sat up and cradled her to his chest.  "I am sorry I let Antonio talk
me out of keeping you safe."
   Was it a lie or did he mean it?  Tears ran faster as her confusion
deepened.
   "I told you that you had potential.  Don't be a baby." He pulled her
back and smeared her tears in a circle around her face.  "This does nothing
for you."
   "I hate you."
   He looked down at the pendant nestled between her breasts and smiled.
   "Remembering how you snatched it off my neck?"
   "I didn't mean to break it, but this new chain is better.  I matched it
perfect."
   Her scowl faltered.  "Antonio gave this to me."
   "He better have.  Oh, shall I be sorry for that too?" Kevin cupped one
of her breasts in his hand.
   "Get your hands off me."
   He clicked his tongue against his teeth, but reclaimed his former
position.  On his back, hands folded behind his head.  "As madame desires."
   "I hate you," she whispered, but this time with a grin.  She picked up
her discarded shirt and wiped her face clear.  "I don't care about sex
anymore.  Look at all the trouble it brings."
   "I can't do any more damage.  You are my progeny.  You carry my child."
   "Maybe," she whispered.
   He winked.  "Maybe.  You are such a lady.  Falsehoods from your lips
while the body sings its truth.  I am sorry," he caressed her thigh, "that
I did caused you to detest that low hum in your loins.  Please, Madame
Yeasmine Austin, use me for your pleasure."
   Yeasmine fell onto the bed beside him in a fit of laughter.  "Stop. 
Please stop.  It's too crazy to hear you talk like that."
   Kevin rolled over and stopped short of kissing her.  He brushed his deep
pink lips to hers.
   "You have a lot of practice getting your victims to lie with you again.
Going for the hat-trick?"
   He growled and dropped his head onto her shoulder.  "Not enough, it
seems."
   "I don't want you."
   "Truce." Kevin cradled her body to his and lay on her shoulder.
   "We're naked."
   He said something to her in a language she did not understand.  It was
flowing, sweet, all the words running like water over his lips.  He pressed
a kiss to her cheek.  "I am sorry," he whispered, "that I did not meet you
under more favorable circumstances.  I would not have hurt you."
   She blinked the fresh tears from her eyes and turned to look at him. 
This one had the greatest ring of truth.
   "I would have showered you in praise, seduced you, charmed you.  I would
have followed you home, learned all that I could about you.  In the end, I
would have horrified you because--"
   "No.  Stop talking."
   His hand rounded her thigh and ease up the inside of her leg.  Yeasmine
breath turned shallow, she tightened her jaw, but she wasn't inclined to
stop him, yet.
   She reached for his hand and pulled it between toward the junction of
her legs.  He didn't have any smug words, not a single noise from his
arrogant mouth.  He parted her outer lips, brushed two fingers along the
slick inner ones.
   She rolled her hips until she was able to get those fingers inside her.
"Stay still, and don't talk." She buried her face in his neck and squeezed
and rocked her way to an orgasm, then another.  Sweating, panting, and
tired, she looked up.  "What?" She snapped.  Did he know she was thinking
about what other parts of him might work better than his fingers?
   "I don't want you to ever feel I tricked you into this, so I don't want
you either.  What do you like, little one?  What was going on in that head
of yours?"
   "Why?  So that you can get it for me?" She rolled her eyes, but his were
serious.  "I don't want to feel hatred and anger and distrust.  I don't
want to be a pawn in a game or a object to be used for another's benefit."
She pushed his hand from between her legs.  "I would not want to inflict
that on anyone else."
   "You assume it's such a high burden to lie with a beautiful woman."
   "I'm fifteen!"
   He blew air through his lips.  "Women younger than you have ruled
countries and rode into battle, many after giving birth to a child.  Far
more unsightly too."
   "No, Kevin.  What hum I cannot quiet with my own hand does not need your
assistance.  Not now or ever.  Though reaching that spot has given me
trouble as of late." She drew a deep breath and winced.  "Thank you." She
rolled out of bed and rummaged for her clothes.
   "If not me, my love, then someone.  If not today, then tomorrow.  You
let someone adore you."
   "I hear and obey."
   He chuckled and caught his clothes.
   ***
   In the middle of fall, almost a year after sneaking into the woods,
Yeasmine's labor intensified.
   She went from having a few bad hours, to several bad days.  The pain she
experienced in waves was similar to her memory of being paired, save that
this went on without a visible end.
   "Am I going to die?" Yeasmine pressed both hands to the wall and hung
her head.  She couldn't sit, couldn't stand.  She could only walk a few
steps before she had to pause.
   Tiara said, "You have not come this far to die."
   "Plenty of dead people thought that," she paused to belch.  Her body
shuddered and she went through another cycle of hot and cold flashes.  "I
feel like the moon." The muscles of her back twisted and tightening as if
they were being wound around a vice.
   "Don't hold you breath." Tiara whispered the reminder.
   Fuck her.  Yeasmine took the breath only because she was going to faint
without it.  The tension subsided, but the deeper churning and grinding
torment, continued.
   "I need to sit."
   Tiara walked Yeasmine over to the T-shaped chair in the center of the
room.
   "No, I need ...  did you put something under there?  I need to take a
shit."
   Tiara chuckled and pat Yeasmine's face dry with a hand towel.  "That's a
good sign."
   "Fuck you and your good sign.  I want them out.  This is killing me."
   "I need to reach in and check." Tiara settled between her legs and
reached into Yeasmine's vaginal canal.  "You're--" Tiara had told Yeasmine
she was nearly there yesterday and ended up having to stitch the torn flesh
on her cheek.  "Let me know when you're ready to push."
   "Now." Yeasmine adjusted in the chair and grabbed the arms.
   Tiara pulled over the hot water, the blankets, tools and towels.
   Her first born was male, followed an hour later by a female.
   "Two down," Yeasmine's chin rested on her chest, her body dripped with
sweat.  "This one is yours."
   "Yeasmine, listen.  It is too soon."
   "I choose, not you." She groaned as her eyes closed.
   The third child was another female.  Moments after the placenta,
Yeasmine's body flushed, went hot and restructured itself.
   "Am I dead?" She mumbled from her position on the floor, her words
muffled by the pillow.
   "You are quite alive, and from what I see.  I think you are finally,
truly a daiva."
   She rolled into a seated position, looked over her body.  "Hot damn,"
she whispered.  She prodded at her back, belly, rolled her neck. 
"Painless."
   Tiara placed the first two born in Yeasmine's arms and held the third.
"None of them have cried.  They barely move.  I'm not sure.  I mean, I
don't know what to do."
   Yeasmine put a finger to Tiara's lips.  She lifted the boy in her left
arm.  "Pharmaxious David," the girl in her right, "Maxine Vilana," she
nodded to the bundle in Tiara's arms.  "Maxilla Justine.  They are all
healthy.  Love her and treat her as a daiva.  I've told you what to do.  Do
not stray.  Now go."
   Tiara's eyes misted and two tears streaked down her face.  "But, listen.
That's not why I did this.  Please."
   Yeasmine's gaze turned hard.  "You think I can do this?  Three?  You
keep her name.  Maxilla Justine.  You don't have to say or do anything
else. Claim you carried her if you want, but this fountain is dry.  Giving
birth was not my qua, but a curse."
   "Thank you, Yeasmine.  I will care for her and love her as my own."
   "Get out of here, Tiara.  Now, while you still have time."
   Tiara's eyes went wide, but she gathered her belongings and hurried out
of the room.
   Yeasmine looked down at the infants in her arms.  The boy had coal black
swirls of hair on his head.  The girl's was ruddy brown, but just as thick.
"Hold on baby," she kissed Pharmaxious on his head and pulled on the
infant's energy.
   The door banged open and Kara stormed into the room.  "Did you think you
could hide this from me?  You think you could keep my own children hidden?"
   "No, Miss Kara."
   "No, Miss Kara!  How dare you?  You ran and risked your life and the
lives of these little miracles!" She kept yelling, but her words were
unintelligible, swinging from wrath to sorrow and back to disbelief.
   The language was full of guttural and hissing sounds as she pointed her
long finger in Yeasmine's face.  She didn't have to understand Kara.  Blood
filled her face, the tears streamed down her eyes, the worry lines
deepened. Yeasmine never asked for her help, and that cut the deepest.
   Yeasmine set Maxine aside and held Pharmaxious aloft.  "A boy for a boy?
I know how high in regard daiva women hold children."
   "Daiva children.  You must truly think me a fool, girl.  That boy will
be lucky to make it to next week." She kneeled down and reached for the
girl.
   "Her name is Maxine Vilana.  That's the only right I claim."
   Kara bowed down, kissed the girl.  "Maxine Vilana.  What will you do?"
   "I only have one child now.  For as long as he lives, he is my problem,
not yours."
   Kara got to her feet and shook her head.  "Kill it while you can.  As
any daiva will tell you, waiting for those final hours while it clings to
life steals your soul." Kara pulled the door shut behind her.
   Yeasmine poured her energy into Pharmaxious, kissing his cheeks and tiny
hands as she restored him.  "Oh, she doesn't know, my love." She cradled
him and rocked with him on the floor.  "There is no greater pain than the
one I have already suffered to have you in my arms.  Please, baby.  Momma
didn't mean to hurt you."
   Pharmaxious shuddered, gasped for air and cried.
   Her worried face transformed into a vixen's grin.  "We did it!" She
cooed and kissed his cheeks.  She got off the floor and onto her feet. 
Weightless and buoyant.  Healthy and powerful.
   -_ Secrets _-
   Antonio leaned on the deck railing sucking on a block of rock candy. 
Yeasmine lay passed out on a blanket spread over the deck while four-month
old Pharmaxious played in the fence her body made from the back of the
house and the railing.
   The little boy was handsome, playful.  The sounds of his gurgling and
laughter was more frequent than his crying.  He gnawed on Yeasmine's arm,
while those bright blue eyes stared at him.
   His presence wasn't wanted, neither by Yeasmine or her son.  Any hopes
that Antonio harbored of having a family were ruined when he saw the boy
had no resemblance to him.  Kevin and Tiara had fled the city.
   Kara had taken Yeasmine's other child.  It would be another year or two
before he could be in her presence without upsetting her.
   Yeasmine and her son were all he had left.
   "Want to get out of that prison, little man?"
   The boy lifted his head, looked at Antonio, then he broke into a
beaming, toothless smile.
   "I'll take that as a yes." Antonio reached over to pick him up.  When
was the last time he held a baby?  He checked to make sure Yeasmine was
still asleep and walked with him into the house.  He rubbed his face to the
boy's cheek, danced with him in the living room.
   Was he a daiva?  It was a question that Yeasmine never answered and
Antonio could not discern.  It was the skill of some daiva to know this
information immediately, but other than things like health, appearance, or
being told, some daiva could be near each other and not know.
   The only truth was that he was growing, almost double his weight since
she brought him home.  Growing, developing, healthy.
   "Pharmaxious!" Yeasmine's wail sounded like a siren going off.  The
screen door swung open.
   He went to the back door.  "I have him."
   Yeasmine spun and sprinted until she reached him.  "Give him to me."
   He didn't have the chance to refuse.
   She held the baby and backed away from him.  "What were you doing?"
   "We were just hanging out.  You were sleep."
   "Don't take him.  You can't have him." Yeasmine teared up and then
Pharmaxious began whining as well.
   Antonio would have laughed if not for the raw fear in her tri-colored
eyes.  Did she truly live in fear of someone coming to take him away?
   And why shouldn't she?
   "I'm sorry.  Okay?  I didn't mean to upset you.  We were inside the
whole time." Antonio opened his arms.
   Yeasmine inched forward, but he closed the distance and hugged her. 
With a sniffle she pushed away from him and pulled on her coat.
   "I do not want to come between you and Max, but we all live here.  You
don't have to smother him."
   "If Pharmaxious disputes the way I treat him, he will tell me." She
pulled up her shirt and fed him from her breast.
   "If he has a glimmer of intelligence, he would never think to protest."
Antonio smirked as the boy tapped her other breast.  "Max is going to be a
breast man."
   "Pharmaxious," she hissed.
   "Whatever.  I guess you're feeling better now."
   She tugged on her cloak and headed for the door.
   "It's not safe for you to carry him everywhere.  What if you get into
trouble?"
   The screen door opened and slammed shut on his words.
   ***
   Yeasmine marched toward the thick of the woods, avoiding the places
where she knew the travelers were sleeping.  Her favorite climbing tree
overlooked the city and then the gulf in the distance.  She dropped her
cloak and climbed with Pharmaxious held tight.
   Once she was settled, she parted her jacket enough for him to see.
   "When it gets a little warmer, I know a nice spot we can go swimming.  I
think you'll like that.  Dante taught me to swim.  It's scary at first, but
fun when you get the hang of it." She kissed the top of his head.  "You are
my baby."
   Cracking branches, crunch of leaves under light feet.  She craned her
neck to look around.  A pair of children walked toward the stream.  The
male taller than the female, both of them with light brown hair.
   The boy trudged ahead, but the girl circled, singing and skipping she
laughed and Pharmaxious echoed with a laugh of his own.
   The girl pushed back her hood and looked up.  "Hey there."
   "Hello." Yeasmine said.
   "Is that a baby?!" The girl ran to the trunk of the tree, but her
brother grabbed her arm.
   "Yes, it is."
   "I want to see." She wriggled in her brother's grasp.
   "I seen you out here before." The boy said.
   "There's room up here for two more.  I ain't going to yell."
   The girl broke free and climbed the tree.  "He's so cute," she squealed.
"He got blue eyes!  Louis, his eyes are blue."
   "Colored folk don't have blue eyes." He grumbled as he climbed the tree.
He looked at Yeasmine and his mouth kind of hung open for a while.
   The girl giggled and waggled her fingers at Pharmaxious.
   "Guess we ain't colored." Yeasmine nervously stroked Pharmaxious'
shoulder.  She had not taken him around normal people except to take their
energy.
   "Can I hold him?  Please, can I?"
   "Another day maybe.  We just met.  My name is Yeasmine."
   "I'm Martha and this is my older brother Louis.  Is this your baby
brother?"
   She held her breath a moment and looked between the two of them.  They
were only children, real children who wouldn't understand the truth.  "Yes.
Yes, this is, uh, David."
   "We just moved here," said Louis.  "Thought it would be a good place to
play."
   "It can be.  I come here because no one else does.  No where to pass
through.  I mostly come out here close to evening to watch the sunset."
   Marta giggled as Pharmaxious took hold of her finger.  "Find anything
cool?"
   "Couple things, maybe.  There's that swimming hole, but you don't want
to go in there till spring, about four more good climbing trees.  I know
where some blackberries grow."
   The siblings traded looks, arguing through their facial expressions. 
Whatever it was about, the girl won.
   "You, ah, we'd like to see these trees."
   "And the berries," said Louis.
   Yeasmine said, "If maybe we can play together, I'll show you my spots,
but we don't tell anyone else.  Don't want them messing things up."
   Martha nodded to her brother.
   "Yeah.  Deal."
   Yeasmine nodded and gathered Pharmaxious in her arms.  "See you some
other time.  Meet you at this tree tomorrow?"
   "Will you bring the baby?"
   Yeasmine finished climbing down, closed her coat and picked up her bag.
"I'll bring him." Once she was away from the tree Yeasmine wore a smile as
bright as the sun.  She giggled and cradled Pharmaxious to her chest.  "We
made friends!"
   ***
   "Momma." Pharmaxious jumped on the bed with Yeasmine.  "Momma!"
   "Stop," she mumbled.
   "Momma, up.  I wanna show you.  Up, momma up.  Can't be sleeping."
   She opened one eye and looked to Pharmaxious.
   He stopped jumping and smiled at her.  Cheeks puffed out, his little
nose scrunched.
   It put a smile on her weary face.  "What?"
   "I was outside.  We were playing.  I was with Bessie.  Her momma called
her.  She say come in for supper.  Was that momma?  What supper?"
   Yeasmine propped her head up.  "It's a meal, food that others eat."
   "I want."
   "You get the nutrition you need."
   "I want supper."
   "Fine.  I'll make you supper." Yeasmine fell onto her back and sighed.
"You aren't like everyone else.  We're different."
   "Because we have different eyes?"
   She giggled.  "So much more." She pulled Pharmaxious into her lap.  "You
are more, a daiva, a very special daiva.  No one is supposed to know it. 
It is a secret."
   "V-secret?" He lowered his voice to a whisper.  "Like vitae?"
   Yeasmine nodded gravely.  V-secrets were the truths that Yeasmine and
Pharmaxious shared, but never spoke of.  The energy within people that they
fed from, for one.
   "Yes.  We don't need meals and schedules.  You have what you get the
taste for, but the vitae is our food.  You are special, and as my child, we
don't do everything like others, not other daiva, not other normals."
   "I still," he stared at her with his head lolling from side to side.  "I
still want supper."
   "Right.  So, Bessie.  You play with her a lot?"
   "Yes!"
   "Have you told her about us?"
   Pharmaxious put a finger to his lips.  "Secret."
   She rolled her eyes and looked up to the ceiling.  A regular secret was
one that he could keep for himself.  "Do you take vitae from others without
me?"
   He giggled and shook his head vigorously.
   "Don't lie to me, Pharmaxious." She held him by the shoulders to still
him, leaned her head to his.  "I cannot protect you if you lie to me.  All
the secrets in the world are nothing without the mutual exposure of truth."
   "Exposure of truth," he kissed her nose then leaned back.  He made a
pinching motion near his face.  "Little, little, little.  Nibble, nibble
like rats." He sat up and scrunched his noise and made squeaking sounds. 
"Hard to tell when the ratties been nibbling!"
   Yeasmine sighed and shook her head.  "Would you stop if I asked you to?"
   "No!" He hopped up and started jumping on the bed again.  "Nibble,
nibble.  Make them sleepy, but not sleep.  No one catch me.  Nibble,
nibble. Yawn a little, then it's time to stop!"
   She dug her fingers into her hair, bouncing near his feet.  How was he
able to do that?  Did he have to touch them?  Couldn't they feel it?  She
was told it was better if they were sleeping first.
   How was he doing this?
   "Can we go to the lake tonight, momma?  I want to swim."
   "I thought you wanted supper."
   "Supper!  Then lake."
   "No.  One or the other.  You need to get to sleep.  Just falling down
and passing out whenever you want ain't going to cut it."
   "Both!" He barked, folded his arms under his elbows and put on his most
petulant face.  His eyes darkened as his glare hardened.
   "One."
   "I want both.  I'm not sleepy." He huffed and his eyes watered, bottom
lip trembled.  "I don't want to sleep.  Please, momma?" He started with the
whining, then the crying.  Until he worked himself into a great imitation
of sorrow.
   Yeasmine tucked her pillow under her head and watched the show.  Antonio
had been a great friend to Pharmaxious, but only that.  They made plays
together, built toys and turned every household item into a battle field in
the kitchen.  One day they were talking and walking in fool's gear.
   All this as a toddler.  Pharmaxious made a big show of learning his
parts.  Even when he was crawling, Antonio gave him the go ahead to tumble
into the pile of blankets and pillows that was the castle.
   Pharmaxious got older and his semblance to a normal child widened. 
Yeasmine didn't want anyone to find her baby and take him away.  He had to
learn to be normal, and that wasn't going to work under Antonio's wing.
   Her behavior needed to change as well.  She folded her arms under her
chest.  "Stop crying!  I don't care.  I said one."
   "I said both!  Let me have both!" He rolled his head back and started to
wail very much like the banshee her father accused her of being.  It went
on for nearly twenty minutes with him writhing and kicking and flailing.
   He had to learn to behave.  She couldn't have someone find out.
   Yeasmine tightened her fists.  She couldn't do this to him, not her
baby. Why couldn't he just learn to be good?
   He took a deep breath and held it while staring at Yeasmine, his eyes
turning red and tears streaming down his cheeks.
   Her father made a decent girl out of her.  She'd been willful,
rebellious.  She was a freak and a curse, and he had taught her how not to
embarrass him.
   Pharmaxious jumped to his feet and screamed, "I want them both!  I want
them both!"
   Yeasmine's hands wrung in her lap.  Instead of reaching out to grab him,
drag him into her lap and light his backside up, she held a single finger
in the air.
   He descended onto the bed, more kicking and screaming.
   She would not hit him, not to her baby.  She would suffer all the pain
such a prize must require.
   The bedroom door opened and Antonio rushed in and looked at her.
   She waved him off.  Pointed at the door until he turned around and left.
   Yeasmine watched him cry and scream, waited as he coughed and choked. 
He lay on the bed, trembling, gasping, choking for his next breath.
   Two hours later.  His sniffling died.  His breath no longer came in
whimpered hitches.
   She said, "My father used to beat me."
   His sniffled and tilted his head up.
   "He was all I had.  My mom died because she gave birth to me.  Because
she gave birth to a freak.  Whenever I wouldn't do what he said, he'd throw
me over a table and whip me with his belt.  He'd lay into me so hard that I
would have big blue battle wounds on my ass.  I scarred from the times it
cut me.
   "My father beat me for saying 'no,' for crying, for being too loud, for
not coming home on time, for staying in the house too much, for looking
like my mother.  For not dying with my mother, too, I think.  You don't
know what it's like to be hurt, beaten, and punished.  I wanted to love
you, to adore you, to have a connection with you that no normal mother
could have with a normal child.  Because we're different.  We can be.
   "Do you think I made the wrong decision?  I need to talk to you,
Pharmaxious, so please listen.  Do you think I should try it my father's
way?  Do you think pain and hate will make you a better child?" She blinked
and two fat tears streamed down her cheeks.
   Pharmaxious pushed himself upright.  "He alive?" His words were muffled,
but she understood him.
   "Yes.  Why?"
   He sat up and wiped his cheeks.  "Lake."
   Maybe she'd misunderstood him after all.  She pointed to his dresser. 
"Get changed.  Clean your face."
   The water ran in the bathroom, and though puffy and swollen, he was
looking much better.  "After?" He stepped into his trousers.  "Can we visit
him?"
   "We could, but I want to know why you ask."
   He was quiet as he got dressed.  She watched his face shift and pinch as
he worked over the words he wanted to say.  Though she had asked him to
dial it back, part of his normality training involved acting normal,
especially while he could make mistakes.
   He made plenty.
   Somewhere within always lay the daiva, the little man in her precious
boy.
   He walked over and held the buttons up for her to do.  He leaned forward
and kissed her on the cheek.  "Supper, momma.  Really big meal."
   She returned his kiss and clutched him to her chest.  Love bloomed and
its warmth seemed to crawl over her skin.  How could she argue with him? 
"Okay."
   ***
   "We need to keep moving." Antonio tucked his head down against the wind
and ushered Yeasmine along.
   She held her four year old son on her hip.  He had his head thrown back
staring at the dark clouds rolling and shifting.  "Storm, momma."
   "Yes, storm." Yeasmine's cloak blew off but Antonio grabbed the hood and
put it back on.  "Is she going to have a problem?"
   "Only if we don't get there in time.  It's a safe house.  That whole
district is going to flood.  We couldn't stay."
   The wind howled and Pharmaxious bounced on her hip and made a mock howl
of his own.  When the thunder rumbled, he stilled and hugged Yeasmine
tight. "I have a secret."
   "We all have our secrets.  Is this one that you want to share with me?"
   "No.  Our secret."
   "It's not our secret if I don't know it."
   "You know."
   "What are you two whispering about?" Antonio asked.
   "Not talking to you.  Talking to momma."
   "Do you teach him to treat me like this?" Antonio looked at Yeasmine.
   Had she broken up the play-all-the-time gang on purpose?  "Of course
not."
   "I make sure you're comfortable, protect you, provide for you.  Fuck, I
even tried to love you, but I get treated like an outsider, a barnacle on
your ass."
   Yeasmine tucked her head closer to Pharmaxious.  He had turned to
swaying and howling with the wind.
   Antonio trudged ahead.
   "He not my daddy."
   "He's the best you got.  He was right about helping us, but you don't
know why he had to."
   He tossed his head from side to side, rocking his whole body in her
arms. "No, wrong, no." He sang.
   "So, you got options?  Fancy man." She readjusted his body on her hip.
"Sit still."
   He giggled and leaned back.
   "Sapphire."
   He put his arm around her neck and leaned over her chest until she
cradled him in both her arms.  He looked to the sky with a smile.  "I can
see the storm now."
   "It was that important?"
   "You need to trust me."
   "Of course I trust you, but I'm not going to be a slave to your every
whim.  I love you, but fuck you on that one."
   He chuckled.  "It helps me clear my mind to look at the sky.  There's a
lot of daiva in there." He drew a short breath and sighed.
   After his earlier tantrum, the visit to her father, Pharmaxious had
kissed her on the cheek and said, "It is normal for us to speak, mother. 
You insist on it.  Give me a signal word.  When you need my maturity. 
Misuse it, and you erase the illusion of your normal baby."
   "Sapphire," she smiled.  "The color of your eyes.  I'll use it as little
as possible.  I swear, but that doesn't not give you license to be a shit."
   "Opal," he rubbed his nose to hers.  "If I really need you, I will tell
you."
   "Oh," she chuckled.  "Nice.  I like this idea.  Why opal?"
   He sang the words in answer, "Opal is a lady that comes in many cultures
and emotions.  Depending on the way the sunshine hits her, she can burn
like fire or shimmer like ice.  Opal can pulse like molten lava or sparkle
like winter frost.  When she's all down and blue, know that she's brimming
with joy and desire.  All Opals should be given a chance to aspire."
   That had been Antonio's doing.  Spoiling his mind with nonsense songs.
If it was anything Antonio had ever taught him, it had to become a v-secret
until he learned it from somewhere else.
   She could just imagine such a tune being sung when the proper answer was
that it was a gemstone.
   And yet, in the way that only her son could do, she smiled.  "That
sounds very beautiful."
   Rare turned out to be once every week, but then every few weeks, months.
His tantrums and her tantrums clashed, but he never said opal.  Was he
better dealing with her or the innocence of not desiring another choice?
   In the present, trudging down wind-swept street.  Pharmaxious tapped her
jaw.  She smiled down, covered his face and hers, kissed him.  "Focus
within, the sky may not always be there.  In some places, they trap you in
the ground."
   Max nodded.  "He told me."
   She gave him the sky back.  He could sense their presence?  What
information clouded his mind?
   Antonio marched ahead.  Kara's house loomed up the hill.  She barely
recognized the location, so many new houses, trees gone, road paved.
   Kara's house would never leave her memory.
   Max pulled himself up.  She shield him with her cloak and kissed him
again.  "Yes?"
   "I love you, Yeasmine."
   "I love you, Pharmaxious."
   "Yeasmine," said Antonio as he set her bags aside.  "This is Dion. 
Dion, Yeasmine.  When did you last hear from her?"
   The petite young woman he called Dion said, "Three years now."
   "The hell?  She never said anything."
   Yeasmine released the breath she did not realize she had been holding.
Without Kara, her secrets were safe.  She set Pharmaxious down and extended
her hand.  The tension in her body faded.
   "Pleasure to meet you."
   "And you!" Dion had large freckles on her cheeks.  Her whole face lit
with delight.  "Look at you, the lot of you look frightful, like one of
those dreadful posters in town."
   "Best to travel simple." He looked through the rooms.  "Who else do you
have here?"
   "It's just me, Rico, and whatever workers come through.  We let them
sleep in the flophouse.  I could use the help keeping the place up," Dion
glanced between Yeasmine and Pharmaxious the entire time.
   "And Rico?"
   "I'm here." Rico stomped his boots and pulled them off in the foyer. 
The top of his shirt was soaked with fresh rainfall.  "We're secure
outside. Antonio." He walked over and they embraced, patting each other on
the back.
   "Daddy!" Pharmaxious rushed over to Rico.
   Rico caught Pharmaxious and lifted him, but as a defense from getting
slammed by a child he did not expect to see.  They did share the same shiny
black hair, though Pharmaxious had a tighter curl to his.
   "Max, get down," said Antonio.
   "No!"
   Rico put his hand out and muttered a foreign phrase.
   Antonio looked at Yeasmine.  "Did you know about this?"
   She stood stock still and glanced to Pharmaxious.  She couldn't lie with
Pharmaxious in the room.
   Trust him.
   "I didn't ...  I had no idea."
   "How she know?" Max said, "Not her fault what you did to her."
   The resulting silence was made deafening by the groan of the house and
roar of wind outside.
   Yeasmine said, "I never told him anything about you.  I thought about
it, but what was I going to do?"
   Antonio picked up their bags and headed for the stairs.
   Dion shook her head and stopped him.  "I have a room for you over here.
We need to keep to the first floor."
   They headed down the hallway and Yeasmine looked to Rico and
Pharmaxious. They were talking, normally, as an adult to a child.
   Dion said, "I thought the child Kara had was yours."
   Yeasmine bit the tip of her thumb and nodded.
   "Ah," She gave a strained smile.  "I'll show you around.  No mention of
that again."
   Yeasmine smiled to the other woman.  "Thank you."
   ***
   The wind and rain had been roaring for the past eight hours.  Rico sat
in a room with Yeasmine and Pharmaxious.  In all that time, Pharmaxious had
been in Rico's shadow, talking to him, listening, playing with him.
   All as a normal, inquisitive and well behaved child.
   She watched as every hard-taught lesson performed to perfection.  He was
respectful, inquisitive, charming, and excitable all in perfect symphony.
   She curled on the couch and smiled at him, adored her little man from
afar.
   Rico came to late in the evening, hours after Max passed out listening
to him read.
   "When the storm passes, stay here."
   A seductive offer, surely the one of his choosing.  No matter his
brilliance, a child was a child.  He couldn't run her life.  She was his
mother.  "No, we can find a place of our own."
   He nodded, pulled away.  "I understand."
   "I do not," Pharmaxious protested.
   "Stay out of this." Yeasmine scratched her head.  What was he trying to
accomplish?  He obviously wanted to stay, knew that Rico would be here, but
whatever lay ahead, she could not see it.
   So many years her focus only had to be on him, only what he needed.  Why
did he want to be around these other daiva?
   "Think about it," Rico said.  "You need some place safe, protected.  You
can stay here."
   "Is this what you want?" She waited.  No code words here.  A mother,
indulging her only child.
   He nodded.
   Then she would.
   "It doesn't matter who fathered him," Rico paused while the floor under
them rattled and shook.  "Kevin supported you, Antonio guarded you.  I
deserve to do my part."
   His part?  She turned to him.  "Supported me?  Supported me how?"
   "Financially.  Kevin did not want Antonio to exhaust his holdings.  He
sent me the money.  Antonio saw that it got to you.  I was a messenger
only, and we are all accountable and responsible.  We agreed that we would
care for you as our progeny."
   "I didn't know that.  No one said." Yeasmine reached up to touch the
silver chain around her neck.  Not only it, but the clothing, the materials
to build that deck, all the fabric for Pharmaxious.  She never questioned
how Antonio's job had been able to afford it all.
   How had she rewarded him?
   "Will you let me do my part?"
   "Yes."
   As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the storm in her mind parted
and she saw what lay ahead.
   -_ Jennifer _-
   Pharmaxious woke prior to sunrise, cleaned and dressed himself.  The
house was quiet in these hours, everyone either sleep or out.  He gathered
his satchel and exited through the back door.
   Down the stairs, slow, so as not to cause them to creak.  Once on the
path, he only had to take gate at the gate.  It was warm out, so the hinges
didn't creak.
   He crossed through town along paths cut through overgrown lawns.  Few
people.  Plenty critters.  Buzzing of insects.  Birds calling out.
   Sun rose as he hit the paved roads.  Dirt path along the side, well
worn, dew covered plants along the path.  It was good that it was in the
ditch.  The less people noticed him, the better.
   Sun broke the horizon as he arrived at the schoolhouse.  Rico had put in
the paper work, but until this morning, none of the children or teachers
had met him.
   "What your mother seeks is important, but more so is to know these
experiences, rather than study them.  You must always be a student."
   What easier way to do that than go to a school?
   He walked up the steps and knocked.  A prim woman in a light green dress
opened the door and took him by the hand.  "Good morning.  And you are?"
   "Max."
   "Oh, so you are little Max?  Well, that explains a lot.  My name is Miss
Crenshaw and I will be your teacher.  Here, let me, oh," she took a shallow
breath and kneeled down.  "Look at those beautiful eyes." She stared as if
lost in her own thoughts.  A soft smile played over her face.  "We're
having recess out back.  Let's go meet your new classmates."
   "Okay." He set his satchel aside and she led him out back.
   There were a handful of children in a range of ages running around and
playing.  Max approached the group of boys playing with painted rocks,
pushing them around and making motorcar sounds.  They were all dressed in
shorts and thin, faded shirts.
   A few of them looked up and smiled, but the bigger one, plump like a
turkey scowled at him.  He looked about nine or ten.  The discontent child
stood and pointed.  "Stay away from the girls or we will beat you good." He
looked back at the other three boys with him.  "Yeah right?"
   "That's right." They echoed and shuffled around so that their backs were
to him.
   Not these people then.
   Max walked over to sit in the grass.  He did not want to go to school to
play games.  Antonio had consumed most of his life with play.  He was not a
baby anymore.  He wanted to learn, to know the things that normal people
understood.  Rico enjoyed reading and learning about the world and what was
taking place.  Compared to Rico, Antonio was a buffoon just like his momma
said.
   A dark skinned girl with toothpicks for arms and legs ran over to him.
Her hair was in two, high, beautiful black braids threaded with thin blue
ribbon.  Her dress had seen better days, tattered, thin.
   She sat on the grass, inches away.  "What's your name?"
   She smelled like apples.  Had she just eaten one?  Would her lips taste
of them?
   "Max."
   "Come play with us, Max."
   She was looking right at him, but not the way the teachers or the boys
had.  None of the surprise, shock, or disbelief.  Dark brown eyes, broad
nostrils, high cheek bones.  She'd said us?  Was there more than one of
her, too?
   "Play what?" He glanced over to the group huddled around the rocks.  No,
those girls were not her siblings.  On the other side of the yard, the
others had their backs turns.  He didn't care about them, but he had to be
careful.
   Antonio's voice, from a game they played with folded paper animals.
   'The first days of court are the most treacherous for new comers.  The
roosters, established, generational.  They eye new chicks with suspicion,
wondering which they will have to kill before it matures into something
stronger.  Something that will end its reign.  The hens play a different
game.  They want to know if there is a potential for desire.'
   When it was Max's turn in Antonio's game, he had to announce his goal:
become a rooster, influence a hen, become a hen, or remain a chick and wait
for other opportunities.  Antonio would then tell him about the animals
that would help and hinder his goal.
   Did his nonsense games to teach him about animals have any relevance?
   "House," she said.
   Games.  He grinned.  He liked the hens.  "How do you play?"
   The girl snickered and grabbed his hand.  "Come.  I'll teach you."
   This wasn't a game.  Antonio wasn't around to make the rules change in
his favor.  This girl's touch, her pull.
   But he really did like this hen.  She was warm, friendly.  Normal and
delightful.  The kind of normal he wanted to be.
   There was one way to be sure, to collect evidence.  Max followed her to
the other end of the yard.
   "My name is Jennifer.  I'm the mother.  Beth is my daughter.  Olive is
the auntie and Ester is the grandmother."
   "Who am I?" Max asked, thinking that this game was exactly the kind of
thing he could play.  He'd been playing roles in weird set ups since he was
a toddler.
   Had Antonio taught him something of use after all?
   "You are my husband." Jennifer said with a bright smile.  He supple
cheeks puffed out and her eyes lit up.
   The other boys were staring at him now, threatening violence with their
eyes.  As for Jennifer, he could tell by her wavering dark eyes that she
dreaded he would say no.
   Husband.  The opposite was...  He'd already chosen his path.  It had not
been selected in fear, so no sense in calling it now.  "Okay, wife, what do
we do?"
   She giggled.  "Just play." She tugged him over to the large sheet
hanging over the clothes line.
   "Hi, mommy," said Beth.  "Granny was looking for you."
   "Look who's back!" Jennifer said, "Max found work at the factory."
   The days schooling were rough.
   Without Antonio to set up the characters and the events, Max made
several missteps on how a father and husband should act.  He had very
different family associations than the girls he played with.  He didn't
understand anything about working for factories or running farms.  They
didn't understand anything about story times or song spinning.
   They didn't know about talking to strangers.  But they had both visited
other houses overnight, and sharing beds with friends.
   It was nice that hugging was okay, but they didn't let him kiss much.
   Though he was clearly doing badly as his attempts, Jennifer, Beth, Olive
and Ester seemed to enjoy his discomfort.  Jennifer grilled him with
questions until she found something he needed help with.  Olive told him
all about what was going on in the news and how everyone is supposed to
feel about it.  Ester didn't say much, she seemed to be on the receiving
end of much of this information, being the youngest of them.  Beth was the
mastermind of their games, taking direction from Jennifer after her
questions.
   Max helped them established the setting and had everyone state their
ideals before they began to play.  This was when he learned the most,
knowing what each of them thought, how they typified the roles.
   When he described changing them, drew the parallels between House,
Doctor, and Shopkeeper.  They exploded with fantastic ideals.
   The greatest waste of his time, those moments in the yard with them. 
They ended up teaching him more than Miss Crenshaw.  After his first year
of school, they had him playing normal in almost every role they could
imagine.
   When it came to the school house itself, Max listened.  When it came
time to speak up, he said little or imitated Jennifer's knowledge.  Miss
Crenshaw might have been a rooster, looking for any opportunity to stamp a
competing chick out.
   He was content to let this one play out for the moment.
   "Max," Miss Crenshaw kneeled beside him while they practiced letters. 
"You didn't touch any of your snack."
   When it was fruit or vegetables, Max did not mind, but the breads were
stale or tasted bizarre and unpleasant.
   He shook his head.
   "Aren't you hungry?"
   "A little," he mumbled.  Saying no would not be normal.
   "Why don't you eat then?  I could get you something different.  Perhaps
your mother could supply me with what you usually eat?"
   "I'm okay.  I have lots of different food at home."
   She sighed and looked at his work.  "You know," her hand settled over
his.  "If you showed me your full effort, I would give you more challenging
work."
   He stopped writing and looked at her.
   She smiled back at him.  "Can you read?"
   He shook his head.  He could know what words said, but all at once, not
one word at a time like the others.
   "And yet, I've seen you follow written instruction before I read it out
loud."
   She noticed that?  "I know what the words mean, but not what the words
say," he whispered.
   She took the slate from him and wrote a word.
   He shook his head.
   "Okay," she thought a second then wrote something else.
   Max described what he saw.  "You have a glass of liquid that comes from
squeezing a fruit."
   Miss Crenshaw nodded.  "How did you learn this?"
   That part was not normal.  One step away, but not two.  Establish a
different history, "My uncle likes to act out stories.  He would write out
stuff and then show me what it meant.  Parts like this," he pointed to the
center of the sentence, "change for small descriptions.  I was really
small. Maybe I forgot what these parts are?  The letters.  I never realized
that they were made of these.  Like little bricks."
   "Odd," she whispered.
   Not quite normal enough.  Max shrugged.  "It doesn't work all the time."
   "Don't forget it, young man.  Valuable." She tapped his head and smiled.
"I will teach you to read, but hold on to the meaning, the essence.  That
is most important.  This building blocks, once you can arrange them, they
will create different structures."
   Max nodded.  "The other languages."
   "Okay." She beamed.  "You get it!  What do you like to eat?  Please. 
I'd like to know."
   He whispered in her ear, "A mother's kindness with fresh fruit."
   She pulled away with a flush.  She checked the other children, but they
were hard at work.  "Your uncle must be quite the character." She pulled
away with a chuckle, then looked around and dropped her smile.
   He had fruit for lunch from that day on.
   ***
   "What is it?" Jennifer skipped through the woods and around Pharmaxious
as they walked along.
   "We're almost there." He paused and pulled a scarf from his pocket. 
"Time to use this."
   Jennifer's eyes widened, but she stood in front of him staring at the
strip of black cloth.
   He grinned.  "Turn around.  I want it to be a surprise."
   Once she turned, he held the cloth to her face.  "Hold it here." Her
cool fingers lay over his.  He gathered the cloth and tied it behind her
head.
   "Now I can't see.  What if I fall?" She felt behind her for his
clothing, tugged him close.
   He took her hands, adjusted until he had an arm around her waist and
another by her elbow.  "I have you." He led her along, steering her well
clear of any rocks or fallen branches.  "You're doing good." He walked
slower than needed in order to lead her along safely.
   Jennifer clung to him.  "I don't understand.  Why are you doing this?"
Though she had felt cold, sweat now dripped down her neck.  The smell of
moisturizing oil wafted from her skin.
   He'd spent weeks making her present: weaving the rope, sanding the wood,
finding the right tree and clearing all the brush.  He had to climb that
tree a dozen times until he got the plank level.
   "We're here." He pulled the blindfold from her eyes.
   Jennifer took a great gasp of air and exploded with sounds of mirth. 
She touched the seat, the rope, giggling and dancing.  She hopped on, and
her feet dangled.  "Oh my goodness!  Where did this come from?!"
   "I made it."
   "You?!" She hopped down and embraced him in a hug.  Planted a wet kiss
to his cheek.  "Push me."
   "Get on and I will, sugar." Once she was in position, he pulled the
swing back and pushed her.
   High squeals of her joy filled the air.  It was worth every moment, each
penny he'd scrapped, the hours suffering Rico's woodworking lessons.
   Another high squeal of joy filled the air.
   Pharmaxious pushed her for as long as she wanted.  He liked the sound of
her voice.  He had all kinds of weird feelings when she laughed, just like
being on the swing.
   "Okay, okay.  Stop." Her cheeks were flushed red, her breath came in
soft pants.
   He steadied the swing and brought her still.  The only thing Jennifer
wanted for her birthday was a swing.  The one at the schoolhouse broke, and
her parents couldn't afford one.  They weren't allowed to play in the other
parks.
   "Thank you," she said.  "It's perfect.  Please.  Where is it?"
   "You're not to travel alone.  I happen to agree with this rule.  You can
only come here with me.  I will keep you safe." He eased forward and
pressed his lips to her cheek.  He counted to two and pulled back.  For a
moment, they stared at each other.  He wanted to kiss her again.  His heart
sped up, and he seemed to fall into her.  This time, she pressed her lips
his.
   Pharmaxious took a long, deep breath.  He felt like her energy was
diving straight to his gut.  Brilliant, effervescent energy.  That of
sprites and fae folk, laughing and dancing, inviting him to play.
   When he pulled away that time, Jennifer moved with him until she had to
sit back.  She giggled, her face was filled with blood.  All her mirth and
joy died as she stared behind him.
   Max looked over his shoulder.  Her brother, Peter, stormed over to them.
   "Get away from her!" He bellowed.
   "No!" She screamed.  It was shrilled, in his ear, and was the stuff of
his future nightmare.  "Go away!  No, Peter!"
   Pharmaxious knew he should run, that it was the right thing to do, the
way to survive.  He saw the way out before he got hurt.  Max was only eight
years old, and Peter twelve: taller and bigger, and Jennifer's brother.
   He didn't run.  When Peter punched him, Max allowed the blows to land.
The sound of Jennifer's anguish hurt worse than the impact of Peter's
fists, but neither pain would last.
   Jennifer dragged her brother away, screaming and crying.
   Pharmaxious lay in the dirt on his back, swallowing blood and head
spinning.  Overhead the wispy clouds drifted by, wing shifted in the trees.
It was a beautiful summer day.  One cloud, shaped like a bass clef, then
scattered.
   Each pulse screamed with pain, but he had to let him do it, to protect
her.  She was so gorgeous, so open.  Max wanted to feast from her, treat
her like a holiday offering.  Anyone else would smell it on her too.
   Times like this, trapped, ensnared due to his decisions.  An
understanding of other games at play would be explained to him.  Due to his
loss, all the others gains and moves he made.  Oddly enough, those losses
seemed to be the ones where he gained advantages for his suffering.
   His brother's faith in his ability to protect her was one of them.
   Max stumbled half the way home, but he made.  The sun was low in the
sky, sweat soaked his clothing.  He was bruised, bloodied.  His clothing
torn, his body had made little progress in the way of healing.
   This pain felt right.  He shouldn't have done that.  It was a stupid
mistake.  She had been the first girl to offer her friendship.  Nothing
more than that.
   Rico and Yeasmine's questions continued for hours.  Both of them were
ready to kill, but Pharmaxious tuned them out.
   "Make him answer you," said Rico.
   "What do you think I'm doing?"
   "You're his mater."
   Yeasmine giggled.  "I'm his mother."
   "And I've seen him listen when you make him."
   He didn't change his far-off stare, but she became the center of its
distant focus.
   She pointed a long-nailed finger at him.  "Fuck you.  It's his
business." Yeasmine took his hand.  "You need to clean up.  Will there be
authorities?"
   Her brother probably thought him dead.  Max shook his head.
   "Tell me what happened!" Rico yelled.
   "Stop." Yeasmine put herself between Pharmaxious and Rico.  "He is not
going to answer, and I will not make him."
   "Why not, damn it?"
   She ushered Pharmaxious into the bathroom and shut the door.
   Rico thundered his fist on the door.  "He'll never become a man with you
coddling him!  Yeasmine!" More pounding.
   They waited.  The noise receded and he went away.
   Counter to his expectation, she did not ask anything else.  Yeasmine
removed his clothing and wet a cloth in the sink.  The cloth stung as it
hit the open wounds, but he breathed through it.  Stared at their
reflection.  A little boy, beaten and bloodied for giving a gift.
   This was the world he wanted to fit into?
   Why when the world should be his?
   She drew the bath and he took one.  Positioned himself as she bandaged
his wounds.  Finally, when he thought she would open the door, ask him a
question, say something, she took him into her arms, wrapped her body
around him, smothered him in physical love.
   Tears rolled down her cheeks, wet the space between their skin.
   "Love you, momma," he whispered.
   Yeasmine nodded.  "I know.  Whatever happened, I'm proud of you." She
took his hands in hers and squeezed it, then looked at the bathroom door
with tears in her eyes.  "I love you." More tears.  She blinked and backed
away.  How long had it been since she used the word?  The day of the
hurricane, when they had arrived?
   Max knew the day would come when he would have to part from her.  That
he would have to act against her advice and make his own discoveries.  One
of these paths would make his life better, the other would enrich hers.
   She led Max into his bedroom.  Rico was leaning on the wall near his
desk.  "I want to take him."
   "Where?" Yeasmine pulled out his pajamas and handed them over.
   "To see the world, to get a real education.  He needs to travel, and
this is something he should do while he's young."
   "No." Her back was to Rico, as she stared down into the clothing drawer.
She separated the items into piles.
   A familiar act, packing bags for overnight visits.
   Rico paced the room.  "You can run the house.  Dion will help you.  I
need to travel south and then overseas to take care of some business.  I
want to bring Max with me.  The travel will provide him with immeasurable
opportunity."
   Yeasmine looked to Max, but he didn't need to be told this was his cue.
   "I want to go." So that he didn't leave her worried, he added.  "He was
protecting his little sister.  I never hit him back.  I chose to take the
injury." Pharmaxious turned to Rico.  "I'm ready to leave when you are."
   "In the next day or two."
   Yeasmine whimpered in her throat and fled the room.
   They knew this day would come.
   ***
   Max took up the rear of the group.  They moved from exhibit to exhibit
narrated by the drone of the curator.
   They entered a small room, surrounded by large swathes of metal and
piping.
   'The Great Pizza pounding competition of 1332.  They started with dough,
but by the end whoa, the pizza was covered in bloody goo.'
   Max suppressed his grin.  Odd time to be having flashbacks to nursery
rhymes.
   "You can see the staining in these pieces.  The blood and gore ran so
thick that Pizales' streets were flooded.  They went broke a year later and
the pounding competition was never held again."
   "What!" Max sucked his breath in.  He hadn't meant to say that out loud.
"Year did this start?"
   "It's on the placard here, 1332."
   "Did people sing about this?"
   The others chuckled or snorted with restrained laughter.
   "I should hope not, this was a tragic massacre, but not one of the
highlights of history.  We consider it of local significance.  A reminder
that failing to heed new information could led to such a tragedy.  It is
good to questions tradition.  Let's move on to the next room."
   Max listened more intently at the curator, but it worked better if he
looked at things first.  Then whatever the placard or the curator would say
matched a stupid song or poem.
   The plays, the art, much of the literature discussed were all diversions
provided by Antonio.  Max left the tour and went to the library, bought
several books and read them, devouring history books until he found a story
that reminded him of the games they used to play.
   The next time they were in a museum, Max was freer with his questions,
framing them in an ambiguous way, prodding for explanations.  Max pursued
the riddles of his youth with growing enthusiasm.
   Halfway through the tour, he forgot himself and forged ahead with a
detailed explanation of what he thought the guide would say next.
   The whole class stared at him.  Confused and puzzled expressions.
   "They were stories my uncle would tell.  He embellished more than he
should have.  He used real events to create plays."
   The boy at the front of the group snorted.  "Did you play dress up dolls
with your uncle?"
   Several others laughed at his joke.
   "Perhaps," Their laughter cut short.  "But he also covered three
centuries of key events in history and culture before I could read.  What
did you do with your pap?  Kick rubber balls around?  If only that
accounted for the three years of hard coaching you'll need if you ever want
to get off the bench."
   Their instructor snorted.
   Max flashed a smile at the instructor and their guide.  "I apologize. 
Could I break from the group and talk to the person who runs this place?"
   "That would be me." A woman walked up and extended her hand.  "Mistress
Tambor, I was impressed with your story.  Is there some other display that
you want to see?" She nodded to his instructor.  "I'll be his tour guide
from here."
   "Ah, yes, okay."
   ***
   Max entered the villa and set his stack of books on the floor.  He went
to the side table and found a fresh batch of cookies.  He nibbled on one
while reading his assignments.
   He had to be careful with his teachers now.  After stunning the curator
and their tour guide, he had to make sure to hold back information. 
Everything Antonio said may have been true, but not true to normal people.
If people called him shy, secretive, awkward, then that would just have to
be that way.
   His inclination to be around others would have to find satisfaction
through some other avenue.  That, or he'd figure out how to blend the two.
   Though he had written several letters, he needed to thank Antonio in
person, to find some way to make up for his mistakes.
   Rico entered the house as Max was finishing a study on plant physiology.
   "Rico, we need to get back to Yeasmine."
   Rico sat down to the table across from him.  "I'm surprised to hear you
speak her name.  Why?"
   "She's alone.  This is a bad time for her to be alone."
   "You're worried about that hellion?  Don't.  All these troubles will
blow over soon enough."
   Max thumbed the edge of the book.  He had to get this right without
losing his temper.  Step one, stick to his principal.  "This is about
Yeasmine.  She needs us."
   "How could you know something like that?  Did she write you?" Rico shook
his head.  "I'm sure she's having a grand time."
   "How could you not know?"
   "We will visit for the holiday.  I'll arrange a trip."
   "Now."
   "You'll be twelve next week.  I've already--"
   "Now."
   "No, Max."
   "Why?" He wanted to roar at him, but softened his voice at the last
minute.
   "Do not start with me.  This is not the time to be traveling.  You
mother is just fine.  The house should have a phone.  I'll--"
   "She needs me there with her.  It's the right choice, the only one I
want." He left it unsaid that he sought too long for an alternate solution,
a way to shift the slope of Yeasmine's descent without his presence.  He
had to be normal for her for a while longer.
   "She can handle it, if not, she has staff there with her."
   "You miss her too." He was whining at this point, but it was better than
doing what he imagined.
   "Quiet."
   Or was it?  "I want to see my momma.  I did all the things you asked me
to.  I read all this stuff.  I went to all these countries.  I have
listened to my instructors and blended in with other groups.  I do not want
to do this anymore.  No one is going to bother us if we travel."
   Rico turned around and walked away.
   "Don't do that."
   Rico put his hand on the frame of the door.
   "Don't turn around either.  Listen.  I need to see my mother.  I want to
leave by tomorrow evening.  You will either take me or send me.  Either
way, I am leaving.  Do we understand each other, Ricardo?"
   He had a week, but if he could make it back sooner...
   The second hand on the wall clock ticked by.  It rang so loud he could
hear the tiny machinery buzzing.
   "Twelve hours."
   Max collapsed onto his pile of books with a frustrated sigh.  Playing
normal around daiva was a waste of his time.  The lines needed to be
redrawn.
   ***
   Yeasmine lay out on the front porch listening to the radio when the car
pulled up the drive.  She sat up and smiled as she saw her baby in the
passenger seat.
   Pharmaxious hopped out the car before it stopped rolling.  "Momma!" He
jumped up the steps and tumbled onto her.
   She wrapped her arms and legs around him and kissed him on the cheek. 
"You're so big!  Look at you!"
   "I'm going to get bigger if you keep holding me like this."
   Yeasmine gasped and smacked him on the shoulder, then smiled up at Rico.
She squeezed him tighter and rocked back and forth with him in her arms. 
"How long until I have to let you go?"
   "Long as you want.  I'm staying momma." His arms wrapped around her
body. Oh, he had grown so much.  Barely a baby, almost a man!  He'd be
taller than her soon.  Perhaps in a matter of months.
   Rico didn't look to agree with Max's estimation.  Why had they come
back? Was something wrong?
   "Don't play games with me." Yeasmine nuzzled his neck.  Her lips parted.
She tried to inhaled him, taste him, feel him in the brief second that she
brushed his skin.  "Are you sure you want to do that?  You got plenty of
education and culture, and time.  You don't want to be stuck here, not with
me."
   Pharmaxious looked back over his shoulder to Rico.
   "He's not playing games.  No, not Max.  He is as safe here as anywhere.
Theories that he is not a daiva are shit.  No child is full of conquering
spirit." He stomped up the stairs.  "I'll be inside."
   "I'll have the girl bring your bags up," Yeasmine called in his wake,
then she grinned.  What had he done to turn the big sponge so surly?  "Tell
me about everything."
   "I'd love to," he kissed her on the nose, "but I have someone I need to
see." He stood up, brushed his clothes, and straightened his hat.  "Rico,
tell her about Niagara!"
   Yeasmine watched her son run off with wide eyes.
   Rico came out onto the porch with a grin on his face.  "Where did he
go?"
   "Said he had an errand.  Thank you, Rico, that's a handsome boy.  He's
going to be taller than me in no time.  Till now I never understood why
people just look at me and stare." She chuckled.  "If I look half as
stunning as him then I must forgive the world.  I was so wrong.  Are you
truly planning to stay or was Pharmaxious just making that up?"
   "Pharmaxious," Rico settled onto the blanket with her and shook his
head. "A powerful man sleeps within that growing boy.  Whatever he makes up
will be, and we should respect his mastery in this."
   "You are wrong.  There is no difference.  He is Pharmaxious, enjoying
the only time in his life when he can be a child, learning, growing.  He's
focused.  You must have pissed him off."
   "He's never asked a thing of me.  The child is a quiet, a blue-eyed
raven watching my every move.  You call him a child, your baby.  I often
forget he is a child, but I applaud him on his acting.  In the company of
women, he plays this to his advantage.  All before meeting Kevin." Rico
shook his head.
   "No." Yeasmine whispered.  One half of the world, available for little
more than respect and agency.  What could Kevin tell him about that?
   She chuckled.  "Oh, yes, he is quite the little actor.  He could be on
billboards with that face."
   Rico put his hand on her shoulder.  "How have things been?"
   "A little rough, but not as bad as it once was.  I sleep, keep my energy
up enough to care for Max.  I spend evenings listening to news of people
killing each other.  Houses here are half empty, but it's just me and Dion.
We don't need much."
   "It will pass." Rico caressed Yeasmine's bare shoulder.  "Wars always
do."
   Yeasmine looked at his hand.  She didn't need much, but the comfort of a
loved one had been lacking.  She eased into his lap and put her head on his
shoulder.  "Tell me about Niagara?"
   ***
   Max passed several small houses along the road.  Crickets were humming,
birds chirping, but he could make out the yelling voices a block away.
   "I won't let you!"
   "I have to.  They need me."
   "What are we going to do here?  What have they done for us?  You leave
and then I have to work.  Who is going to look after our children?"
   Max slipped through the hole in the fence into the backyard.  The
argument came from the house.  Jennifer and her brother, Peter, were
outside playing with marbles.  They ignored their parents' conversation.
   "Peter!" Jennifer shook her head.  "That's my silver puree.  Please, can
I trade for something else?  I must have put it in there by mistake.  I
never play with that one."
   "I put it in, squirt.  You can't go pocketing them.  It's not fair
playing if you don't put in the good ones."
   "That's not right!" Jennifer cried.  "You took my green, my pink and
white one, and now my silver.  You have the purple-and-white cat's eye."
   "Stop your belly aching and go."
   Jennifer lowered her head and cried.
   Though they must have been the same age, Jennifer was still acting like
a baby, infantilizing herself under her brother's control.
   Peter's idea of protection would smother her.
   Max stepped closer.  Could he do it now?  Protect her now?  Was he old
enough?  Smart enough?  What if she hated him?
   He kneeled beside her.  The urge to touch him tugged from his gut,
aching for him to snatch her into his embrace.
   Peter gasped and Jennifer yelped and wiped her eyes.
   "What are you doing here?" Peter yelled.  "I told you I never wanted to
see your face."
   "May I play?" Max spoke to Peter, but his eyes never left her.  She'd
grown taller, a little wider.
   "Um, but where," Jennifer turned her head left and right looking for how
he had entered their yard.
   Peter cracked his knuckles.  "Sure.  Play.  You bring your own?"
   "Jennifer, may I use your marbles?"
   "I only have seven left," her tears welled anew and her bottom lip
trembled.
   "That's plenty." Max positioned himself on the ground.
   "No sissy house-playing freak like you is going to beat me."
   Max grinned.  "As you say," he picked up the shooter and put all seven
of her marbles into the circle.
   "Max!"
   "They're in!" Peter covered the chalked stone as if it were home base.
"No more squealing."
   "What are we playing?" Max rolled the shooter around in his palm.
   "Cherry pit.  Keepers."
   "And what am I supposed to do with this big one?"
   Jennifer buried her face in her hands and let loose her tears.  These
tears were not so different from the ones inside.  Sorrow, pain, loss.
   Those tears were genuine, searing down his side like sharpened claws,
digging in and twisting.
   Peter laughed.  "Ha!  You can flick it or in your case, do it the girl's
way and drop it."
   "Go first."
   "Sure."
   Peter hit one out on the first try, then nothing on his second go. 
"Your turn.  Hurry up.  I want to finish taking her marbles so that I can
pound you with my fists again."
   Max placed the shooter at a suitable spot and flicked it and knocked
four marbles out of the pit.
   "Beginner's luck."
   Max winked at Jennifer.  She was peeking at him through a space in her
fingers.  Her sniffled, glanced to her brother and wiped her face.
   Naturally, Peter demanded a second game.  Jennifer sat quietly behind
him, her hand on his ankle as he lined his shots.  By the fourth she was
his rabid cheerleading, spurring him forward toward victory.
   Max had won all of Jennifer's marbles and most of Peter's.
   Peter jumped to his feet, both fist bobbing in front of him.
   Max stood and looked down at the young man.  "You're not as big as you
used to be." He positioned his body between him and Jennifer and pushed his
chest to Peter's.  He lowered his voice to a whisper.  "You were never
stronger."
   Peter stumbled back.  "You ain't gonna do nothing to me.  This is my
house."
   "Go in your house then."
   Peter squared his shoulders, jutted his chin, but took another step back
and stomped his way inside.
   Max gathered the marbles and handed them to Jennifer.  "To my wife.  I
should have known better than to steal that kiss from you, but I don't
regret it a second."
   She smiled and tilted her head to one side, then lowered her head and
giggled.  "That was a game, Max."
   "I don't wan the game.  I want you forever.  Wife sounds beautiful."
   She looked up, met his eyes, the smile gone from her face.  "You mean
that?"
   "I do.  I've wanted to give you something for the longest time."
   "My marbles?" She questioned with a bemused smile.
   He embraced her and put his cheek next to hers.  "I want to kiss you."
   "Right in my back yard?  Stealing again?  He'll pound you for sure."
   He pressed his lips to the base of her jaw and inhaled.  The scent of
her hair and skin was nostalgic.  It was everything he missed about being
home.  Max took a second lungful of her when she didn't pull away.
   "You are so strange, Max." She whispered.  "Ever gonna tell me why?"
   He brushed his cheek to hers.  "Come walk with me."
   "I can't leave the yard.  You know what happened last time.  I can't see
that again."
   Another slow deep breath.  He could sleep this way.  "Yeah, I let your
brother protect you.  I had to leave, and I wanted to make sure you were
safe.  You will never see that again."
   "It's still there." She reached under his shirt and put her hand to the
bare skin of his back.  A small signal, a bit of play acting.  As husband
and wife they were to be close with each other.  As children that meant the
lady put her hand on his back, and the man rest in her hug.
   Max went to sleep dreaming of this.  It was exactly what he craved.
   "You knew you were leaving and didn't tell me?  Where did you go?  I
thought you died.  I missed you."
   "Traveling with my father.  It gave me time to think, learn, explore. 
It's good to have a worldly education." He kissed the lobe of her ear. 
"Mostly, I thought of you.  I love you.  It's unlike anything I've ever
felt."
   Jennifer pushed away from him and jumped about two feet away.  Inside
the house screaming had become the tumble of upturned furniture.  "Tomorrow
afternoon, swing?"
   Max was already backing away.  "You'll be alone?"
   "Yes, go.  I'll see you tomorrow."
   He walked back home with a spring in his step and a broad smile on his
face.  Jennifer was so beautiful, even more than he remembered.  Big wide
eyes, high cheek bones, glowing skin.  She smelled like warm spices and
sweet fruit.
   He put her out of his mind as he entered the house, unpacked his bag and
changed.  Getting here today was the best of all odds.
   He settled onto the front porch with his science magazine and waited. 
The sun settled in the sky until it kissed the tops of the oak trees.
   The passenger car came up the drive and pulled up to the house.
   A woman stepped out, dressed in a fine blue dress with polished heels.
"Wait here." She told the people inside before walking up to the porch.
   "Hello Kara," said Max.  He set his reading aside and stood.
   Due to Max's familiarity with his mother and father, it was hardly a
talent for him to know what they were thinking.  He received thoughts from
normal people all the time, but the had to use more effort with Kara, to
fine tune the wealth of information.
   Kara's visit would not end well for Yeasmine.  His mother would fall
prey to her pitch without him.  Status, money, and fame lingered in Kara's
mind.  A center piece in a show like a zoo animal.
   Kara looked Max over and made a small inhalation through parted lips. 
"Your mother is more clever than I gave her credit for."
   He smirked.  "She is."
   "How did you survive?  Do you know?"
   "You believed I was dying.  That was her goal.  No treachery, Kara.  She
wanted a boy.  How is your girl?"
   She flicked her hand.  "Sent her off with the scamp your mother ran
with. Daiva should not give birth.  Where is Rico?"
   "Inside."
   "Don't be insolent with me boy.  I'll--"
   "Mademoiselle Kara," Max walked to the edge of the porch.
   Kara's chest swelled and she grinned at him.
   "My mother, the clever scamp you've come to make your offer to," he
grinned, "will be disturbed by your presence.  Nothing to do with your
proposal.  She does not want you to take me from her, not that you could if
you wanted.
   "She will not perform, spread her legs, or submit to detainment by your
friends." He pointed to the car.  "She is governess of this safe house, and
when she leaves you are free to reclaim it.  For now, you are not welcome.
Tell me where you are staying, and I'll tell Rico to visit.  Do we have an
understanding?"
   Kara blinked in surprise.  "I'm glad my boys were around to raise you.
Culture matters, but I think you're a bit young to go swinging your
underdeveloped cock."
   "Much worse, Kara, it being so large.  Psychological studies indicate
that puberty is an impulsive and tumultuous time, both physically and
mentally.  I have only just begun this journey." He put his arms around her
waist.
   Kara took a step back.
   He smirked and leaned to the post.  "I'm still navigating around my
temper tantrums.  Isn't that immature of me?  I have the tendency to act
like a rotten, insolent child when I get frustrated.  Culture or my
adolescent cock?  Which do you want, Kara?"
   "I think you play wonderfully at being a man of culture."
   He smirked.  "It's the child that I play, Kara.  Remember that." He took
a deep breath and nodded.  "Rico was your first?"
   "He is." Kara shrugged, "If Yeasmine will not entertain my friends, I
could always find your sister."
   He lifted his brow.  "What you do with your daughter is your own
business."
   Kara took another step back and bowed deeply.  She took two more steps
away then returned.  "A cock is never too big, only too impatient for
favorable climes." She kissed him on the cheek.  "Take care of yourself."
   "And you, Kara."
   ***
   His talk to Kara about 'psychological studies' of puberty at the tender
age of twelve were pure bravado.  No amount of reading in the world could
prepare Max for the reality.  Every year he got taller, stronger, more eyes
turned in his direction and settled on him.  All ages of men and women were
drawn to him, throwing their energy on him.
   Unless he had to be out, Max preferred to withdraw in his home and
invite people there.  The trouble was that he shared a home with others,
had to follow rules, laws.
   Energy raged without a clear path.  As a daiva, he was expected to have
a qua, though it was hard to know what that would be for him.  How would he
know if he developed something different when he had only been himself?
   Like Jennifer.  His desire for her burned like the need for vitae.  A
blaring alarm in his mind screamed that he belonged with her.  Other
beautiful women, flirtatious girls, sexually forward and willing - did not
affect him the same.
   "What do you think?" She came from behind the partition wearing the
dress she'd made.  She turned, pretending not to care, but the tightness of
her voice signaled that she cared deeply.
   Max had given her the fabric.  She made beautiful clothing, sturdy,
flattering.  He had never seen anything like it - not in any magazine or
store display.
   Jennifer was a normal girl with an extraordinary talent.  How was this
not a qua?
   Others derided her designs as a profound and ugly waste of material, but
materials did not dictate the quality of art.
   He steadied her and checked the dress.  He ran his hand over the seams,
felt the material, lifted her arms and looked her over.  "It's too tight
around your chest."
   She looked down and frowned.  "It fits."
   "How many times have you lengthened the seam on my trousers?"
   She chuckled.  "Don't be silly.  What's my chest got to do with your..."
She blushed and folded her arms.  "I can undo this stitch easier.  It's not
as strong, but in the right place, you can't see the holes.  I'll make sure
to use that on the sides."
   "Give yourself room to move.  Loose the sleeves, add a belt, tie it in a
bow right here." He placed his hand to the small of her back.
   "My mother says that calls attention to my butt." She giggled.
   He couldn't wait another second.  He kissed her cheek.  "You don't have
to call my attention to any part of you."
   Jennifer licked her lips.  "Thank you.  Come closer, my love." She put
her arms around his waist.  "I miss when you hold me."
   Powerless.  He put his arms around her and held her for several long
minutes, soaking in the rays of her sunshine.
   ***
   The stitch came in handy.  This was her second alteration in a year. 
The bow served as a tie in the back of the dress.  It had a tongue that
covered her back, but Max had seen it without, a lace of pale yellow ribbon
down her nude back.
   He stared at the rise and fall of her swollen breast, tied up as they
were, they were boulders of comfort and love.  That he would do anything
she asked terrified him, but not so much that he'd ever refuse her.
   Max and Jennifer lay under the stars in his sprawling back yard between
the row of tomatoes and cucumbers.  They had just returned from a warm
evening walk.
   She took his hand and traced the lines on his palm with her finger tip.
"I want to watch you feed."
   He chuckled.  "It's nothing you can see.  I don't use the same methods."
   "In the pictures, vampires are ...  well, they sound a lot like you. 
Are they just stories?"
   Max shrugged.  "There are scary people out there, all kinds.  Monsters
reflect personal fears.  To that person, they are real."
   "You are not a monster."
   Max grins.  "Are you afraid of me, Jennifer?"
   "Plenty people are, you and those people in Pine Hill.  I'm not, never."
   He nodded.  "Good."
   "Does the energy cause you to live forever?"
   "No." He turned onto his side and lay on her chest.  "Anyone can die. 
I'm not sure how the energy works.  It's hard to explain."
   "Then how do you know--"
   He put his finger to her lips and looked back toward his house.  The
person at the window moved away.  He dropped his hand.
   "Then how do you know it's working?"
   He sighed and put his head on her bosom.  "I do, but I won't tell you
the answer.  I want you to learn my way first.  One day I'll tell you."
   "You're asking for faith that I will have faith."
   "No.  I'm asking you to have faith that you will have proof.  If I can
prove it works, then," he propped himself up and kissed her.
   She put her hand behind his head before he pulled away.  "I want to
watch you feed.  I don't care how boring it is, how different.  Not others,
you.  Share yourself with me."
   He rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars.  Her words echoed
both his fears and his dreams.
   She lay beside him and cupped her mouth.  Spoke only to him.  "I want to
watch you, with my hands, my ears, my mind.  When you're feeding from me, I
want to know when it starts and when you stop."
   Both his mother and father warned him away from her, worried that he
would hurt her.  No matter when or what time of day, if Jennifer wanted to
be with him, he was there.
   Over the years they spent hours discussing the books he gave her to
read, current events, and art.  He listened to her talk about her hobbies,
her friends, and her school work.  Jennifer's father had died in the war.
Her brother left home.  Her mother worked sixteen hour shifts and was
trying to convince Jennifer to do the same.
   For these reasons, Max could not be deterred.  He made it his mission to
get her out the house and away from her mother's depression and myopic view
of the world.  With him, Jennifer had nothing to fear in the dark, nothing
to fear from others.
   He wanted her to become an intelligent, self-sufficient woman, but he
had to be careful.  No matter how much of his fantasy she fulfilled, he
could not serve his own interests.
   "I should get you home before midnight." He stood and took her hand.
   "Please, don't ignore me."
   "I'm not." He put his hand around her waist and pulled her into a hug.
"I don't.  That's all I'm thinking about right now.  Give me time to think.
Please."
   "You always say that," she mumbled into his chest.
   "I love you, Jennifer.  That's why I'm thinking so hard.  There's so
much to consider."
   They set off walking and Jennifer wore a smile the size of the ocean. 
She hugged and squeezed on him, but once they were in the woods she stopped
him.
   "What?"
   She looked on either side, then backed into the deep shadow of a tree.
"Take all the time you need.  Kiss me like no one is watching.  No one can
see us, Max."
   He stepped into that shadow, wrapped his arms around her waist.  Like
vitae itself, her adoration, her attention, even her presence was an
sustaining energy.  He brushed his nose to hers.  "No one may be watching,
and even if someone were, that would not stop me right now." He gave her
what she wanted, the opened mouthed embrace where their tongues explored
each other.  Messy and illicit, her breasts squished to his chest, her
pelvis pressed to his.
   "I love you too, Max." Jennifer rasped.  "Please don't pull away from
me."
   -_ Three by Five _-
   Yeasmine was braiding her hair when Max returned home.  "Good walk?"
   "Yes, as always."
   "Come in and close my door."
   He completed her order, drug a chair to her vanity and sat behind her.
He inspected her progress and set to matching her style.
   "Are we still honest with each other?"
   He met her reflection in the mirror.  "Let's find out."
   "Does she know what you are?"
   Straight to the heart of it then.  "Yes.  She's known since we were
ten."
   "Has she asked for you to pair with her?"
   "Yes."
   Yeasmine pulled away from him and stood up.  "She did?!"
   "Not in those exact words.  I know what she asked for, what she wants.
She has never brought the subject up, but I know her mind.  She's afraid."
   "Of what?  You?"
   "My answer."
   "What would that answer be?"
   "Yes."
   Yeasmine's face went slack and she shook her head.  "You can't do that
to her." She took a breath and closed her eyes.  "She won't have the same
ability as you."
   "I know."
   "You might fail.  You could die in the attempt."
   "I know."
   "Damn it.  It's not enough for you to know.  You need to understand. 
Don't do that to her!"
   "You're angry?"
   "No, Pharmaxious, no my baby.  I'm worried.  I'm scared."
   He walked over to her mantle.  "You regret being a daiva."
   "Regret is too kind.  I hate it."
   "Hmm." Max shrugged.  "If you don't want to live, you should take the
path that kills you."
   "You miss the point."
   "That is the point." He sat down and motioned to her hair.
   She sat.  They worked for a while, only a few sections near the front
remained.
   "Are we still being honest?" said Max.
   "Yes."
   "I've done a lot of reading, and playing around, I guess, but I want to
hear it from you.  Tell me about sex."
   Yeasmine coughed violently.  She turned to Max, eyes wide with
disbelief. That was the last thing she wanted to talk about.  "Why haven't
you asked Rico?  Why me?  What could you possibly have to ask me about? 
Haven't you seen enough of it?"
   "At what age did you start?  What was it like?  Rico can't answer this."
   Yeasmine's head fell forward and covered his face with both hands.  "It
doesn't matter about me, Pharmaxious.  You can have sex at any age you feel
ready.  Obviously now, if you're asking."
   "Because I am a daiva?"
   "Yes," she took a deep breath, sat up and gathered the last section of
hair.  "I mean, you don't have to be sexual for what you need, but it
provides a great cover.  Most normal boys your age have done more than
play. You can't reproduce, naturally, I think.  Be careful about that. 
There are several gorgeous women that--"
   "Momma, a normal girl."
   It was as if the color and heat drained from her.  They looked at each
other through the mirror.  "A normal girl."
   "That's why I'm asking, momma.  I want to pair her while having sex. 
With my method, she won't have the pain."
   The hair on her arms rose as did the temperature in her body.  Old
wounds and memories flooded her mind.
   "I am not the right person to ask.  I can't talk about this."
   "You're sharing it with me now.  You were doing it a bunch."
   "Not willfully!" She crossed her arms over her chest and backed away
from him.
   "How could you not willfully if you never said no?  I understand about
Kevin, but Rico and Antonio didn't force you to do anything the second
time. You actually enjoyed it with Antonio.  You enjoy it with plenty
others.  How else would I have seen so much of it?  Why wouldn't you be the
best person to ask?"
   Yeasmine opened her mouth and then shut it back.  Tears welled in her
eyes then rolled down her cheeks.  "How do you know that?"
   "You're thinking about it."
   She shook her head.  "I was a child.  I didn't know.  I thought ...  I
didn't understand the choices I made."
   "You think if you saw the path earlier, you would have chosen a better
one."
   "Yes."
   "There would be no path if you were not daiva!" He yelled.  "Tell me
what made it frightening to you.  Tell me why you didn't understand the
choice."
   "Pharmaxious!" Yeasmine shrieked.  "I will not talk about this with you
any longer.  My experience is my own."
   "Share it with me and stop playing this tired role."
   Yeasmine stalked toward him and stood on the chair in front of him. 
"You want my fucking answer?  What do you want me to say to you?  Yes!  Go
on!  Take that poor girl's youth away!" She snarled and her eyes turned
cold.  "I was fucking used, Max.  I was raped, forced, seduced.  I was
confused, scared, and desperate.  They played a game with me that did not
result in my murder, but turned me into a fucking freak with freak babies."
   The volume of her voice hurt his head, her regret and pain poured over
him.
   "I lived in pain.  Every day was agony.  I had my life fucked away by
three different monsters when I was fifteen.  I got an eternity of living
as a freak, both to normal and daiva.  Are you fucking satisfied now?  Do
you have some fucking clue what I think about sex?  That is my fucking
opinion your pestering little shit."
   Max eased back, his leg hit the bed, but he edged around it.  Seconds
passed, but he only stared at her.
   When had she ever yelled at him, for any reason?  No crime,
transgression, or admission had ever caused her to treat him so terribly.
Never.  He felt like she had just clawed him open, that if he looked down,
he'd see blood running from his gut.  All the hate, anger, and sadness
burned his skin.
   Didn't they have an agreement?  Had he broken it by leaving her, moving
away?
   Despite his best effort to remain calm, Max's own tears stung his
cheeks. Did that mean she didn't want him?  That she didn't love him?  Had
she lied when she said it was worth it?  Did she look at him and think...
   "Pharmaxious."
   "Opal."
   Her eyes went wide and she held her breath.  Never in all the years
since they had their word did he ever feel the need to use it.
   Tears streamed down her cheek and she shook her head.
   He needed this moment to stop, to stop whatever she was doing.  Say and
do nothing else before he lost his temper.  Even if it didn't mean anything
to her anymore, it still meant the world to him.
   Max turned and went for the door.  He didn't stop when he passed Rico in
the hallway.  He hit the front door and kept running.
   ***
   Rico knocked on Yeasmine's door.  "Did I miss something?"
   Yeasmine stood in the middle of her room, trembling and frozen by what
just happened.  She nodded.
   He walked in and looked around, then faced her.  "What happened?"
   "I lost my temper."
   "What's new?  You mean with Max?" Rico laughed.  "That's impossible."
   "Yes, with Pharmaxious." Yeasmine moaned pitifully and wiped her tears
with her shirt.
   "What it the hell could he say to make you angry with him?"
   "Oh, he just wanted my opinion on pairing a fifteen year old girl while
taking her virginity." Yeasmine walked over to her chair and sat.  "He
pressed the issue when I refused to answer.  I haven't," she put her hand
to her chest.  "I haven't felt so lost."
   "Max will be all right.  It's just a fight."
   "No." Yeasmine cut her eyes to Rico.  "I destroyed the thing most
precious to me.  He warned me, and I did," her breath hitched.  "I did it."
   He sat down on the bed and opened his arms to her.
   Yeasmine stood and wiped her eyes.  "Your arms are no place of solace."
   ***
   Pharmaxious stopped running behind a closed theater and sat among the
brush.  He lifted the silver pendant from under his shirt and stared at it.
   'My mother wanted to wait until I was sixteen to give me this.  I won't
be too late with you.'
   He caressed the chimera then tucked it under his shirt.  No matter his
searching, the libraries he accessed, he could not find record of anyone in
the world like his mother.  Her hair was black, brown, and deep red.  One
eye bright blue with a brown slice, the other eye bright green with another
brown section.
   He couldn't play the child any longer.  Going to her for advice she
couldn't give, asking about the world she no longer lived in.  He was now
the same age as she had been when her life began, that she regretted her
choices was not his burden.
   Max lifted his head, stood, and entered a defensive stance.  Someone was
near him.
   A girl in a dark blue dress smiled at him.  Her hair was parted down the
middle with two puffy ponytails on either side.
   He straightened.  "I know you." He didn't know how he knew the girl. 
He'd never seen her before, and yet, he was sure they had met.
   "You better." She stepped into the lamp light.
   He knew that chestnut red color, had only seen it on one other woman.
   "Maxine?" He walked closer and looked her over.  Red like the fall
leaves, peridot green eyes.  Her skin was much fairer than his own or
Yeasmine's.  "It's really you."
   "Yeah," she grinned.  "And you is Pharmaxious."
   "You can call me Max if you want."
   "Humph.  I'm a call you a fool.  That frog bitch, Kara, nearly killed
me."
   He chuckled.  "She did no such thing." He took her hands, looked at her
nails, squeezed her shoulders.  Muscled.
   "You act like you inspecting stock for a sale."
   "I'm haven't seen you ...  ever really." He stood in front of her.  "How
did Kara treat you?"
   Maxine rolled her eyes.  "Like a doll when I was little.  When I got to
walking she lost interest.  Your momma's friend, Dante, took me in.  Then
Kara came crawling back and went traveling with me.  I couldn't do it, one
city to the next, no friends or freedom.  It drove me crazy."
   "I heard Dante's white.  Is that true?"
   Maxine gave an exaggerated nod.  "Lily white with hair like sunshine. 
Another big problem, so I can't be with him.  I'm ducking Kara now."
   "Problems?"
   "You got to ask?  Look at me!  Brick red hair, green eyes, high yellow
skin.  I made that bitch croak gold bars." She laughed.  "I can't blend in
anywhere.  Niggers don't want me; crackers can't figure me out.  Fuck it. I
can take care of my own ass."
   "I ran away too," said Max.  "Frustration mainly."
   "What you done?"
   "Momma yelled at me."
   Maxine's face went blank.  She swallowed and sucked in her bottom lip as
if struggling not to laugh, but her face turned a deep shade of red. 
"About what?"
   "I wanted insight into her experience at having sex young."
   "Well, hell, I can answer that.  Sure!  Have at it.  Just be sure she
likes it rough." Maxine bumped her shoulder to his.  "I know you's a strong
man, so you got to be delicate and such.  Normals suck though." She
shrugged.  "I done it.  Ain't much to it."
   Her accent was so thick and her words practically strung into one long
sound when she talked.
   Maxine stuck out her tongue.  "I seen the way you was looking at me. 
Fuck you.  Spoiled boy.  Bet you been to fancy schools and shit." When Max
didn't answer, Maxine laughed.  "My momma yelled at me," she sang.  "Damn
right, I'm glad I got tossed aside.  Thanks, brother."
   "Not much opportunity to practice the language?"
   "Let me say it again, and slower this time so you understand: Fuck you,
spoiled boy." She pursed her lips and put an arm around his waist.  "Back
to sex.  You've come to the right place.  All that fancy education can't
help you now.  Normal girls is anxious, so you got to be careful."
   "I don't know what you mean."
   "You got to restrict yourself." Maxine tilted her head to the side.  She
stepped back and extended her hand.  "Grab me and pull me over to you."
   He took hold of her hand and tugged, but Maxine didn't budge.
   Maxine made a high sound of surprise.
   Max looked around, but the lot was still empty.
   "Some touch you got on you, boy.  Soft as cotton." She made a sound like
a high-pitch 'huh.' "You already know how to restrict yourself.  Must of
been doing that your whole life.  Do you even know any daivas?  What house
you staying in?"
   "There's our mother, Antonio, and Rico.  Dion oversees the--"
   "Not those fuddy-duddies.  You ever done it with a young one?"
   "No," he shook his head, "You?"
   "Been thinking on it, but I ain't tried.  I wants to find out what it's
like.  I do plenty else, don't get me wrong, but I got to be careful with,
well, I don't want to be like your momma." She took a step back and looked
him over.  "You ain't such a bad choice." She grinned.  "You mighty fine
too."
   Maxine was quite a gift to be so young.  People must stare at her the
same way they stared at Yeasmine, the way they stared at him.  Her breasts
were large along with her larger frame.  She stood only an inch shorter
with wide hips, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist.
   "I need to get back home."
   "No.  No, you don't." Maxine grabbed his arm.  "You can stay with me.  I
got plenty of hideaways set aside."
   "What do you want from me?"  -""You's a daiva, a damn good looking one."
   "I am your brother, by blood and birth."
   Maxine threw her head back and laughed.  Her whole body exploded with
mirth.  "Oh boy, you something.  I don't give a damn about normal rules. 
Like you really give a damn.  This is an opportunity.  You want to know
about sex?  I'll teach you."
   "Not tonight."
   "Why the hell not?"
   "I have a promise to keep to Jennifer."
   "Who is the hell is she?"
   "My girl.  I--"
   Maxine frowned.  "You promised a normal?"
   "Yes." He said defensively.  "I intend to keep it."
   "Ugh," Maxine took a step back from him.  "You go and keep your fool
promise, but not tonight.  She put her pinky in the air.  I'm second at
bat."
   Max rolled his eyes and sighed, but he took her pinky.  "You are
perverse, sister."
   She grinned.  "Thank you.  Say it.  Second at bat."
   "You're second.  So, what you been doing?  Have you traveled?"
   "Only where Kara dragged me.  Can't tell you much except for different
buildings, strange writings.  Don't go far on my own."
   Max put his arm around her waist.  "They make wigs, you know."
   "Why the hell would I wear a wig when I got all this?  Fuck that trash
you're pushing."
   He laughed.  "Show me your hideaway, and I'll tell you about the world."
   "Nah, I'll walk you home, little boy." Maxine giggled.  "This ain't the
best place for you to be out at night alone." She giggled harder as they
set off together.
   ***
   Maxine stood by the tree as her brother disappeared into the fog.  He
wasn't anything she expected or dreamed about.  Her mirror's reflection
made her assume he would look good, but he was so much more.  He stole her
breath, set her loins ablaze.  She expected a ruthless criminal and found a
gentleman scholar, one who made and kept promises to the weak.
   She returned to the vacant house grinning, knowing her survival skills
were superior to his.  Her childhood had been spent in battle, fighting to
stay alive, to be accepted, to avoid being killed, kidnapped or misused. 
Fighting off those who took her beauty as an open invitation.
   Fighting and winning.
   Maxine lay back on the stale mattress and stared at the crumbling
ceiling above.
   Would her brother still keep his promises when he learned that she was a
whore and murderer?  The freak they called the Leprecoon and worse?
   At least she knew her brother.  The path of their sister was too dark to
follow, not set to cross for many years from now.
   ***
   Maxilla Justine Austin stared at the fire as it reached for the stairs.
Within the house, glass bottles exploded, wood snapped and groaned.
   The fifteen year old girl stood by the tree and watched her childhood
home burn to the ground.  Years of secrets, lies, and betrayal turned to
ash.
   She would miss them, but if she had to look her mother in the eye, the
woman may not survive her wrath.  They had nothing to offer her.  It was
high time she made her way in the world alone.
   She pulled her hood over her head and turned her back to the rolling
inferno.
   -_ First Taste _-
   Ten in the evening.  The sun had set hours ago.  It had been a week
since he last spoke to Jennifer, last kissed her, fought with his mother,
met his sister.  Days he'd spent doing some of the hardest thought of his
life.
   Max peeked through the window.  Jennifer was in the living room, curled
up on the couch in a blue and white gown.  On the table in front of her was
the house phone, a book lay open in her lap.
   Jazz music filled the house.  As far as he could tell, she was alone. 
Days without her, pulled away, an imposed coldness he did not want to face
the rest of his life.
   He knocked on the door, but she didn't stir.
   "Jennifer," he said softly while looking at her.  "Wake up and open the
door.  It's Max."
   He knocked again.
   Jennifer stirred and looked around the room.  She closed her book and
turned to the door.  Her gave him a bright smile.  "Are you okay?"
   He nodded.  "Where's your mother?"
   "She had to leave.  My uncle died." Jennifer pulled him inside and
locked the door.  "I haven't seen or heard from you in forever." She
blushed and lowered her eyes.  "A few days apart and I start to sound like
I really am your wife.  Have a seat.  Is there something wrong?"
   "No." He tugged her into a hug.  "Not anymore."
   ***
   Jennifer hugged Max back.  "Come on, sit." She turned the radio volume
down.  Max had been over to her house before when no one else was around,
but never so late in the evening.  He usually came to her when he was in a
sour mood, but this felt different.
   She sat beside him on the couch.  Her eyes wandered, as they usually
did, to his chest, thighs, his hands and lips.  Almost every night she fell
asleep thinking of him.  Each morning she woke wondering if today would be
the day she saw him.
   There was hardly a time when she wasn't thinking of Max.  His face was
the perfection of her fantasies.  Her insides felt bubbly, warm, wet, and
soft.
   Reluctantly, she shut her eyes and turned away.  Since the onset of
womanhood, her thoughts of her childhood friend had become something more
potent than puppy love.  Max was her only dream, her crush, her sole wish
upon all the stars.  He didn't come for her randy infatuation, but her
friendship.
   He deserved better from her than this.
   She jumped when his cool hand grazed inside of her thigh.  She gasped,
but didn't pull away, didn't push his hand away, not when she wanted to
feel his touch so much.  "What are you doing?"
   "This." He leaned over and kissed her.
   Her heart thudded in her ears.  This was the same kiss Max always gave,
but only after begging and pleading.  His hand massaged her thigh in a
slow, deliberate motion.
   "Jennifer."
   "Yes, Max?" She shuddered like a leaf, her breath came in gasps.
   "Do you want to do this?"
   She panted.  Her head wobbled and vision blurred as if she were about to
faint.  Max wanted to go further?  Had he really just said words she had
imagined hearing for so long?  Jennifer took a breath and composed herself.
   Reluctantly, she moved his hand and shifted on the couch until she faced
him.  Max had taught her that sometimes you have to step outside the role
you are told you must play and speak plainly and honestly to the person you
care about.
   Jennifer needed this to be that moment.  He couldn't misunderstand her.
"I want you.  I don't know how much I can get, but I want as much as you
can give.  I don't have any good reasons, and I can't wait.  Next time you
leave, my heart may not recover."
   He pulled her onto his lap, straddle wise.  She swooned over the firm
bulge between her legs, while Max lifted the gown over her body.
   Jennifer covered her breasts.
   Max leaned back against the couch and looked at her.
   Her heart pounded, skin flushed.  She was nervous and aroused, but not
afraid.  She lowered her hands put them in her lap.  It wasn't enough to
say something.  She had to be true to her word.
   He stared at her breasts, then raised his hands to massage them.  "How
does that feel?"
   She looked up at the ceiling and arched back with a low moan.  "Nice."
He pulled on her nipples, first with his fingers, then with his mouth.
   She squirmed and blushed.  She looked down and he was lost, kissing one
breast and then the other, sucking and nibbling and making her even more
wet.
   "Max.  Did something happen?"
   "Right now." He whispered.  "I'm going to start now." He returned to
kissing her.
   Though she wanted to revel in his affection, she focused on her
sensation.  She didn't want him to think that she was nervous.  She didn't
want him to stop.
   She was about to see him naked.  The closest she'd been to that was when
they were out swimming.  She'd gotten a look at him as a boy, out of
curiosity.
   Beth talked her into it.  Convinced him to strip and swim with them,
saying he wouldn't know better.
   Jennifer never believed it.  Max was a brilliant boy that knew how to
play dumb.
   "The girls want to see your thing," Jennifer had confided in him.
   "They can't, but do you want to?"
   Jennifer nodded slightly.
   Just a boy part, that's all it was, but his...
   Nude, he picked her up and carried her to her bedroom.  He held her up
with one arm and used the other to pull her bedsheets back.  He lay her
down and leaned over her.  Their lips met again and set off another round
of kissing.
   For a moment she tensed.  She had been wishing for this moment, but she
had never discussed sex with anyone.  What was it going to feel like? 
Would it hurt?  How was he going to fit?  What if he got stuck?
   That terrifying moment didn't happen.  He lay on top of her, kissing,
warm and naked, tumbled in her bed.
   But how did it feel any different?  He was feeding from her?
   Max broke apart and rubbed the ridge of his erection between her legs,
along the length of her slit.  "I love you.  I need you."
   Jennifer reached between their legs and wrapped her hand around him. 
Thick, fleshy, slightly wet and stick due to her contribution.  She gasped
as the head pressed to her clitoris on the way down.  Once she had him
lined up, she removed her hand and pulled him close.
   "You're feeding from me?  Right now."
   "Yes."
   "I don't know how it's different, Max."
   "Exactly." He kissed her.  "You're mine alone.  What will be odd to
others is normal to us.  Have faith.  When I'm done, you will be closer to
being like me.  Have faith."
   She tapped on his butt and he delved a little deeper inside her.  Deep
breaths, a little at a time, and then he eased deeper, pass her discomfort.
   He didn't move.  That didn't seem right.
   Jennifer pressed her hand between his shoulders and the other pressed to
the small of his back.  She giggled.  This was the way they 'were husband
and wife' when they were little.
   "We had it half right."
   "Why did you stop?"
   "You feel amazing, but I want you to want me back."
   "I do!"
   "Then show me you really understand.  Be my daiva queen." He braced
himself with his hands on either side of her head.
   She smirked.  Max took great pleasure in making her act counter to how
she had been told a respectable girl should behave.  Reading mechanical
books, learning whatever she wanted, saying what she wanted, and now this.
But he was right, saying it wasn't enough.
   She rolled her hips to his, leaned forward and kissed his neck, rubbed
his back.  He felt so good.  After all this time, how was she going to keep
him?  Did that feel good to him?  Maybe she needed to move faster.
   "Jennifer, don't think.  Feel.  Use your soul to show you the path.  I'm
helping.  I promise."
   With a frustrated groan she pulled him down into another kiss.  She
wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out in pleasure as that changed
the angle within her.  No thinking, she pushed and pulled on his hips,
writhed under him.
   Sweat built between their bodies, the smell of him, taste.  Jennifer
nipped him a little too hard on his chest.  When she pulled back she was
mortified at the thick liquid on her lip.  "I'm so sorry."
   Max crushed further words in a kiss and growled as he came inside her.
He gripped her tight in his arms and trembled.  Those arms felt like arm
bars, unmovable and firm.  His hold softened as he calmed.  He rolled onto
his side holding her.
   The sound of their panting filled the room.  Jennifer attempted to feel
for the spot where she had bitten him, but she couldn't see anything in the
dark.
   She wriggled her arm free and pulled the chain for the lamp.  She traced
the mark, red, puffy, but it didn't look bad.  He wasn't bleeding anymore.
   Max put his fingers between her legs, played in the mess they had made.
Jennifer froze as he explored her, penetrated her, circled her sensitive
parts.  She sighed softly with pleasure.  She moaned and squeezed his
shoulder.
   After another minute of his fingers working her, she went hot, then
cold, then numb and tingly.  Her whole body tensed, shuddered, and all went
quiet in her mind.
   "Jennifer, don't stop.  Stay right there." The whole while his fingers
thumbed inside her, set the pace of her orgasm.
   What was happening to her?  He wanted her to hold this moment and she
wanted to stay, a perfect moment, suspended in her body, her mind.
   When she finally regained hold of her senses she gasped and her eyes
went wide.  "Can we do this again?" She had barely caught her breath, but
she kissed and held him tighter.  "Please?"
   "We've only just begun."
   She giggled and rubbed her face next to his, straddled him.  "I like
this faith part.  That felt amazing!"
   He chuckled.
   ***
   Max returned home after leaving Jennifer's bed.  The sun was low in the
sky, the day ending.  The world might have ended and no way for Max to
know. The last eighteen hours had been heaven, an euphoria he would replay
for the rest of his life.
   He lay on his bed with a half smile on his face.
   "Where have you been?" Rico opened the door with a wrinkled nose.
   Did he smell her on his body?  "I haven't caused any trouble."
   "Where, Max?"
   He sighed.  "Where I was or what I have been doing is not your concern."
Max wondered how long it would take before he got the memo that they were
done playing house.
   Rather than take offense, Rico nodded.  He interpreted his statement as
that of a man defending his privacy rather than a petulant child.  "Agreed,
but Yeasmine has been worried.  Say hello to her before you leave again. 
Respect her as your mater, if not your mother."
   "She's my mother only.  I'll talk to her before I leave."
   Unable to wallow in the fading bliss, Max showered and dressed.  He
found Yeasmine in the common room ironing curtains.
   He walked over to her and took the iron out of her hands.  He stood a
head taller than her these days, so when she tried to drop her head, he
held her chin up with his finger.
   "I understand what you were trying to tell me.  I apologize for
upsetting you."
   Her eyes widened.  "Goodness, Pharmaxious.  That voice."
   He shrugged.  "You enjoyed thinking of me as your baby, and I played
that role for as long as possible.  I loved making you happy, momma.  I
love you."
   Her eyes watered and she hugged him tight.  "I love you with all my
heart.  If undoing the wrongs done to me meant not having you." She wiped
her eyes and framed his face with her hands.  "I would suffer it all
again."
   This time he was the one hugging her.
   "Where did you go?  I was so worried.  I know I shouldn't be, but I
was."
   "Around.  I needed to clear my head and think, but last night I was at
Jennifer's."
   "Did you take my advice?"
   "The spirit of it."
   "Spirit?"
   "I listened to her.  I followed her lead.  I put her wishes ahead of my
own."
   Yeasmine stepped back and smiled.  "And what did she think of you?"
   "I left her an hour ago."
   Yeasmine blushed and went back to her ironing.  "She's fortunate to know
you."
   "I'll be heading out later.  Don't worry about me."
   "You may be a daiva.  You may keep getting bigger and stronger and
older. But you are my baby boy, and I will always worry about you." She
pulled him over and put a kiss on his head.  "Be careful, Pharmaxious."
   "Yes, momma."
   ***
   <Pharmaxious.>
   Maxine's voice, right in his head.  He paused in styling his hair and
looked around the bedroom.  He wasn't even aware he could hear or talk to
her without being near her, but his response was automatic.  <Yes?>
   <Meet me at Brenner Pier at eight.>
   <I'll be there.>
   How did she do that?
   He wondered where on the pier he was supposed to meet her, but she found
him.  She was in a long purple skirt, white blouse, and matching purple
scarf tied around her head.  Her green eyes were as brilliant as he
remembered.
   "This way." She led him down the street.  "I have a place that belongs
to a guy I know, Jacob.  He's visiting his mother up north.  I can stay
there while he's gone if I keep the place clean and bills paid.  He trusts
me." Maxine laughed.
   She opened the beach house and walked him straight to the bedroom.
   "Where did you go to school?"
   Maxine frowned at him.  "School?  I ain't go to school."
   "Oh."
   Maxine shuddered.  "Hell no." She pulled off her scarf, the black wig,
and shook down her bright burgundy curls.  I hate wigs." She unbuttoned her
blouse and looked him over.  "You need help with all that?"
   "You, really ...  are we doing this now?"
   "You had plenty of time for that other girl, yeah?"
   "Yes, but..."
   Maxine squealed and ran over to him, touching his cheeks.  "Gosh, you're
cute when you blush."
   "Maxine."
   "Hush.  It's an experiment.  You's a man of science and books, yeah? 
Think of this as a lesson."
   ***
   "I barely remember this place," Maxine whispered as Pharmaxious led her
inside.
   They went through the house toward the back porch and sat on the swing.
   Max lifted his hand and fingered a lock of her tightly spiraled hair. 
"I agree.  Your hair is too beautiful to cover."
   "Dante said I had her eyes."
   "We do."
   "You think Antonio must be my father?"
   "I'm not sure it's that simple.  You have a lot of her.  The hair just
behind her right ear toward her neck grows this color.  Her right eye is
green.  She has a section of skin on her back that doesn't tan.  It's about
your shade.  In truth, I think they all had something do with it, but
little to do with us."
   "When did you move in here?  I never saw you."
   "Summer storm.  I was little.  I wasn't here too long before Rico took
me with him.  Kara found you after that?"
   "Yeah.  That bitch.  Flashy cars, trains, then planes.  Best linen I
ever lay on."
   ***
   Yeasmine followed the muted sounds of conversation to the back porch. 
Max's deep purr was familiar, but the languid, sultry tone of a woman's
voice was nothing like Jennifer's.  Jennifer was more like a rolling field
of wildflowers instead of bubbling chocolate.
   She stepped out on to the back porch and her skin broke into gooseflesh.
It was like look at a twin, a third of her distilled into a young girl. 
"Maxine?"
   "Hey." Maxine looked her over and pushed her hair behind her ear.  "What
are you now, thirty?"
   Yeasmine nodded.  "Thirty-two soon."
   "Wow," she looked at Max.  "She keeps well."
   "She does."
   "Oh my goodness," Maxine whispered and focused on him.
   "I see you get it now." Max said glanced to Yeasmine then blushed as if
embarrassed.
   "Haha." She looked at Yeasmine.  "Can't say I blame you.  Easy street
living."
   "Maxine.  Stop." Max put a hand to her shoulder in warning.  "I know
you're angry, but we agreed to split up."
   "Not forever." Maxine pulled away from him.  "I didn't agree to
forever."
   "Fifteen years was nothing.  We're together now."
   Maxine turned to him.  "I didn't need to be pumped full of empty
promises."
   He sat forward and said something to her, but not with his mouth.
   Maxine said, "We're stronger than them and the older we get the more
different we'll be.  This ain't the place for us."
   "Stop with the bickering.  It's late," said Yeasmine.  "Come inside and
rest.  It can be the place for you tonight.  Leave when you get a clear
path."
   <->
Written: 1992, 2012, March 2015
   Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
  
02_Birth