The moon, white mystical orb that it was, followed them, tracking them through every curve, every stretch of highway. On those rare occasions when the night sky was clear, she was accompanied by hundreds of tiny fires, stars winking as he drove. Casey was quiet, holding the stuffed frog he had bought her closely, as one would guard a talisman against evil. He had managed to make her smile, laugh even, hopefully dispelling the fiends that had her in their hold, leeching away her joy. Still, she had returned to her cocoon, draping herself in melancholy and gloomy silence.

"So…you like the frog, huh?"

Casey nodded and smiled at the small green rag, its shape barely discernible within her grasp.

"Have you given it a name?"

"Yeah, I have," she replied softly, holding it tightly against her chest.

"No, don’t tell me. Let me guess…Kermit." Casey shook her head. "Alright, then…Daniel, he’s cute enough."

Casey rolled her eyes. "You really are vain, you know that?"

"Only a wevit," he said, mimicking what he thought a frog would sound like in her grip. Her laughter made him smile; it was a soft chuckle, light and sincere. "So are you going to tell me, or will I have to torture you with more of my corny jokes?"

"No, please don’t," she pleaded with feigned horror. "It’s Heathcliff."

"Wuthering Heights? Who’s chasing you through the moors, Casey?"

"No one."

That’s great, Danny Boy. Stuck your foot in it again, have you? Well, can’t make it any worse. Heathcliff. "Casey?" He called for her with the green light from the dashboard illuminating the sharp planes of his cheeks and the strength of his jaw.

"Yeah?" she replied mechanically, staring out through the window at the blurred sides of the road. Palm trees loomed tall, and curved, directing towards nowhere in particular. White stone fences, solid and strong, interrupted her view of sandy hills cloaked with night. Images of Magali’s black Jeep arose unbidden, black as coal against white sand.

"I…umm…Did you have a nice time today?" Daniel asked with a gentle smile.

Casey grinned. Her elbow on the edge of the car door, she leant her chin on her hand. "I did, Danny. Thanks, I needed that, and this," she said holding up the frog. Midnight, when the sky turned dark liquefied into her lover’s hair stained with blood, dark and aching from the wound she had caused to keep her from killing Julia and returning to prison.

"You’re welcome. I…I’m glad you had a good time," he responded, his voice dropping with a barely discernible trace of reflected dejection.

"What’s wrong?" Casey asked, eyeing him inquisitively.

Daniel sighed, inhaling deeply. "I…can be a real ass sometimes. Can’t see the forest for the trees," he mumbled shaking his head vigorously. "I just wanted you to know that I…think you’re really a special person, and—"

"Julia put you up to this." Casey’s tone was flat and emotionless. It had occurred to her earlier, but his charming ways and genuine laughter had caused her to doubt her conjecture, and she had dismissed the idea as paranoia. She should have known better. Julia was the short circuit in her life that set everything to flames, like the flames that had consumed her Black Velvet. Pluming columns of smoke that billowed from the mangled Jeep destroyed her mind and soul, erasing all but bitterness and conniving retribution.

He bit his lip. The implied betrayal in the lack of tone in Casey’s voice caused his normal mirth to disappear beneath his embarrassment and regret. "I’m so sorry, Casey. I didn’t know…I wouldn’t have…." He paused, collecting himself and tried to apologize. "I don’t want to hurt you. Please. Don’t blame Julia; she thought you could use a friend. She told me you were depressed, and that maybe I could cheer you up, but I—"

Her voice didn’t change; it remained detached and cold. "It’s alright, Daniel. You don’t have to—"

"No…no. Casey, please…I was only trying to help. I’d be your friend now even if she commanded me not to be. This just wasn’t a very good start, and…I hope you believe me, Casey."

Casey’s eyes narrowed as if she were assessing the truth of his plea. After all, he would be very good at begging. "Is that all, Danny? She just wanted you to befriend me?" Things you want, Julia. You do always get them, don’t you? You wanted me back, because in your own sick way you do love me. She could have killed you; she could have gotten away with it. God knows how many bodies she’s lain to rest. I stopped her-- and because I did you got the upper hand, and brought me here. Could I have done any more to betray her? She’s dead, and both you and I are responsible, ‘my sweet.’

"Uh, she told me to see if I could get you to come out of your shell a little. She didn’t really give me any specifics, just said to take you out. I’ll pay for having you out so late," he finished with a smirk that was a little more in keeping with his character.

Casey nodded to herself. "So will I." And I deserve it.

Driving up into the circular driveway, Casey could see that only the light to the study was on, the rest of the house was lifeless. Julia was home, most likely sitting behind her antique oak desk reading the news on line, or taking a phone call with her feet up on the desktop. Daniel slipped the car into a space along the side of the driveway; Julia’s was probably one of the only residences in the area with parking spaces for visitors. Casey squeezed the small stuffed frog lying on her lap. Her throat felt tight. Hell would be given its due; she could feel it thrumming inside her, the anxiety of Julia’s retribution. Daniel opened the door for her, and reached down to help her out, she hesitated but he grinned softly, giving her silent support.

"What’s the worst she can do?"

"You don’t know her the way I do, Danny." By the end of the night, she won’t know me either.

"You’re right. Besides, I’d probably enjoy it. So should you."

He said it was such seriousness, she couldn’t help but laugh. It was a rolling shake that came from within and vanquished the fluttering in her gut. The feel of her Black Velvet couldn’t be replaced; she could only try to recapture it through her own fantasies, and drag herself through what was left of her life.

"What?" he asked incredulously. Taking her hand and placing it at the crook of his folded arm, he chuckled.

The porch light turned on, illuminating the elegant oak door of the house with its stained glass fan-like window. Noiselessly the door swung open, and Julia stepped out into the open with her arms crossed before her. She brought a chill with her.

"You kids have fun?" The tone of Julia’s voice changed her words from an inquiry to an accusation.

"Yes, we did." Daniel spoke first, squeezing Casey’s hand against his rib cage as he did.

Julia descended the three steps down to the driveway and strode to Casey, lifting her hand towards her and finally cradling her cheek with her palm. "Come inside, dear, I have something for you both."

Although her words were softly uttered, tempered and with sweetness, Casey felt her insides tangle up into knots at the seemingly innocent invitation. Daniel was undaunted, comfortable in the presence of the tall, imperious mistress. Julia turned and entered the house; Daniel followed leading Casey at his side. Her pulse raced and a chill ran up her spine, making her shudder in its wake, but Daniel held her closer. She took in his fragrance, still fresh as if he had bathed in rose water and cloves all his life, and the scent was an inseparable part of him. His presence and secretive comforting, relayed his message to her wordlessly. This might have all been planned, but anything that happened on his part would be genuine.

Julia walked the spiraled staircase in measured steps, confident and controlled. A metal sconce along the wall anchored candles to light the way; they dripped wax in dark colored tears, their light pulsing, bright circles on the ceiling. Casey followed without resistance, but her mind was racing. Incense flavored the air with spice, and music floated into the hallway with Gothic melody and heart-mimicking rhythm. Daniel stroked her hand with his fingers keeping it firmly in place at his bent elbow. Julia wanted her to break free of the memory of Magali, be more amicable; instead she was going to be so out of Julia’s control.

The door to Julia’s offices was open, the room beyond was candle lit and perfumed, her equipment much the same as what she had in New York. The beauty and allure of it was indisputable.

"The clothes, Daniel. You know I dislike them." Julia stopped at the center of the room, commanding without looking at them. "Take them off."

Gently, Daniel let go of Casey’s hand, reverting openly to his role in the house. Her arm hovered for a brief time span, then fell to her side slowly. She made no other move, Julia would tell her what she should do. Daniel disrobed, folding his clothing and placing it in a corner of the room. He could find his collar without the aid of light and, on his knees, he lifted his hands holding the collar open and flat across his palms and waited for Julia to acknowledge him. Julia stroked the wood of her whipping posts, placed closely together so that her subs could be chained spread between them if she wished. When she finally turned sharply on her heels, Casey nearly winced with the sudden hunger in her eyes. Restrained and portraying an anger that was illusory, Julia outstretched her hand to Casey, curling her fingers and beckoning her wordlessly.

It was a practiced move, one she executed with all the assuredness and pride of a well trained submissive. Gradually, Casey knelt and placed her hands on the floor, arching her back and crawling cat-like to Julia’s feet. The hand that ran its fingers through her hair and then snatched at it was meant to soothe and demand contemporaneously. Casey rose to her feet, a shining curved blade inches from her face. It was a game, and she was to show trust and faith in the one who commanded her. Julia sliced through her garments with ease and certitude, a skilled and balanced move of her wrist. The flickering flames of candles reflected off its metal. She left her standing naked, vulnerable, to take the collar from Daniel’s hands and place it around his neck. The young man kept his hands on his thighs and tilted his head, eyes closed, to expose his neck to her. When Julia returned, it was with Daniel crawling by her side, keeping pace with her, careful not to touch her legs but staying dutifully near.

Tenderly, Julia yanked on Casey’s collar; a permanent decoration she wore at all times. Reverentially, Casey parted her lips as Julia exploited her mouth with a kiss exacting surrender and abandoning her to drift in its call, a summoning from beyond.

"To the posts, Pet," Julia snapped and Daniel reacted, standing and stretching his arms and legs out within the enclosure of the freestanding posts. "Manacle him for me, dear one."

Casey did as she was told, firmly holding Daniel’s wrists and ankles as she bound them in the leather straps attached by chains to the posts. His head was bowed, the posture of his muscled torso screaming acquiescence. She stepped away when she was done. Letting her own head fall, she waited for Julia’s next command. Casey could see the shadow of the flail Julia held dangling from her hand, and closed her eyes when she heard the strips slap against the bare skin of Daniel’s back. His tumescence responded to the touch, growing and straining with each stroke; Daniel flung back his head, biting his lower lip to keep silent.

Julia circled him, making rounds of his body with the flail, striping his legs, chest and back with linear welts that, once faded, were quickly replaced. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, wet with his perspiration; Casey endured his gentle cries with aroused agony, the timber of his voice stroking memories of passion under her lover’s contradictory hands. A whispered voice by her ear filled her with the warm tendrils of Julia’s hypnotism. "Enjoying yourself?"

Oh, I will, because I will enjoy making you squirm; but I don’t think you will like this much, Julia. "Please, Mistress. May I join him?" Casey murmured. She couldn’t see the tall woman’s reaction, but Casey was convinced that, however much Julia might not want to allow this, she would be forced to maintain her image and hide behind her stoic role. Casey wanted to laugh, to revel in the turmoil that would be roiling behind the blue orbs Julia used to scrutinize the world with. You’ll give me everything I want, and more. Julia’s silence assumed her permission. Your weakness, Julia. You can’t deny me anything.

Casey stepped close to him, his scent, combined with the musk odor of leather, filled her senses. Discarded and miniscule, she caught sight of the small terry-cloth bundle of her Heathcliff, lying lifelessly on the floor. Her lover was gone, but she could bring her back, and as she abandoned herself, she rescued from deep within her the touch that was Black Velvet. Branching electric waves cascaded through her, hardening her nipples as they came in contact with a heaving chest. She threw her arms around broad shoulders, drawing a chin down to her shoulder and stroking the nape of a corded neck. Taut and muscled, they were the embodiment of the strength she had felt wrapped in Magali’s arms. She clung to her illusions as Julia continued her work on his back, setting a cadence in tune with the setting she had begun. Daniel shuddered against her, his arousal pressed tightly against her abdomen.

Julia would hide her anger behind the force of her lashes, brutal up to the point of damaging, then pulling back. "Cry for me," she commanded, burning to feel her control, and Daniel obeyed, groaning into Casey’s shoulder and biting into the slope of it. Casey tossed her head back at this puncturing of her skin. She clamped down on her lips to keep quiet, she wouldn’t give Julia the satisfaction. Julia was playing sound games.

Casey strained to keep her hold, Daniel’s sweat making his skin slick, and she had begun to perspire under the pain of his biting. He was granted a reprieve when Julia walked around the posts, but the striking of the flail continued, falling instead on Casey’s back; teasing Daniel. Punishment. Punishment for her part in bringing her Black Velvet down. She welcomed it. Her back was aflame. Every inch of her was touched by some part of the magic Julia was dispensing, either touching Daniel’s skin or marked by Julia’s methodical stroke. Casey dug into Daniel’s shoulders, her lips pressed against his collar, the salt of his skin inundating her with his taste. Her clawing marked his skin; she gripped him, his skin morphing into the bronze of her Black Velvet, ravaged by the sensations Casey’s mouth and hands pierced Magali with.

Swirls of reality and dream wove themselves into one, and Casey, trapped within the weave, surrendered. Julia wound her way around them both, lashing their skin and watching them writhe against each other as her punishment fueled their desires. When they began to cry in unison, she made a few rapid sweeps at them and then let them bask in the absence of her, Casey hung halfway to oblivion from Daniel’s bound body, pain and ecstasy wielding their own enchantment. Lightly, Julia rubbed the welts of her work with a finger, smiling at their reactions to the painful caress. Carefully she pulled Casey away from her trainee, cradling her to keep her from falling.

Casey felt her, touching them, reveling in their dazed condition, knew the arms that held her and guided her to the raised four poster bed covered in rose petals. Protest of any kind escaped her. She had been reduced to a bundle of raw, wanting nerves, and in this condition there was room for nothing else but what was physical. The ceiling seemed closer than she knew it really was; her back throbbed with the friction of the sheets and petals under her. Julia had carefully placed her supine, her legs bent and her center exposed. Hot wax dripped down her sides from the candle Julia held over her, she agonized beneath its scorching. Daniel’s approach, commanded and directed by Julia, heated the inside of her thighs; his closeness reinforced what had been the solitude of his absence. Without him, she was alone, trapped within herself, adrift without an anchor of comfort to deal with her own demons. Julia was merely an outside force, a goddess at play, into whose mouth Casey groaned Daniel’s intrusion, his length filling her in one steady push at Julia’s command. Her connection to a ghost complete and encompassing, her soul’s power transcended death and brought forth the dead inside herself; to feel against her skin what was lost to her forever.

"You shared his pain, dear one. Share his pleasure."

Casey clutched at the sheets, arching into Daniel’s thrusts against her, timing the movements of her hips with his as if she had always been in such a position. Her hands grasped satin and crushed roses, liberating their aroma. Their bodies danced, and Julia watched, seated in her armchair, witnessing Casey’s deflowering by a man, distanced to receive only what Casey would give her.

"Touch yourself," Casey heard in Daniel’s voice, a relayed message brought to her from the goddess.

Her hand wandered her own belly, sensations coursing from her fingertips through her skin and into her muscle. She found her center, her hand brushing against Daniel’s coarse pubic hair as she found the nub of her own pleasure and arousal. Finding there the touch of her Black Velvet, entering her, caressing her, loving her. The feel of long, black hair brushing her stomach, her voice near her ear, her breath on her skin. Her conquering, the coiled anger and violence she held at bay so carefully that it became sensual.

Casey heard it, inaudible, no more distinguishable as words than was the wind-- Julia’s voice releasing Daniel. Braced above her, he plunged deeper into her, venting his excitement and sensuality into her, shuddering when his essence entered and mixed with her own. His final lunge choked the air from her throat, and she opened her eyes to fall into a sea of blue a fraction away from hers. Her breath fled, her lungs emptied at his exit, the pain of separation serrated with the loss of her dark lover. She ground into his lips that had wandered down to respectfully clean away his own residue from her entrance and nether lips with his mouth. Julia was next to her, sitting near and stroking her skin, pinching her nipples as Daniel’s tongue surrounded and licked at her core.

"Let go, dear one."

Give in to me, Casey heard in Magali’s voice, clear and resonant.

He covered her with warm lips and, suckling her orgasm tenderly, groaned as she came screaming into the abyss. Rapture. Her joy faded, drowning in tears of sorrow as reality crashed in, and Casey curled on her side, Daniel settled behind her, soothing her as Julia stroked her hair and neck.

"You’ll forget, sweet…you’ll forget," Julia whispered.

The music died.

In the half darkness, lying on her side, Casey could make out the curve of his shoulder, slowly lifting and falling as he breathed in his sleep. His face was buried in her neck, dark strands of his hair tickling her cheek, the warmth of his breaths softly brushing her skin. Julia slept behind her, her bare chest covering Casey’s back. They cradled her between them with long arms and soft hands on her abdomen and waist. Their legs were intertwined with each other’s, so that at a glance they seemed a multi-limbed creature sleeping under a tangle of satin sheets; their scents mingled, creating a heady perfume that was difficult to ignore.

Sometime during the night Julia had moved them into the master bedroom, Casey’s memories of it were obscure and wrapped in her own fabrications, but the soreness and feel of her body told her the true story through her visions of it. Spent, Daniel had carried her to the room and had placed her on the bed, where he kissed and caressed her as Julia took pleasure from her body. The skin of her thigh was tight with the residue of Julia’s arousal; handprints on her forearms, the soreness of her nipples, still heated from where Julia had gripped and suckled her as she came into Daniel’s mouth. He had entered her once more, emptying himself into her from behind as Julia kissed and held her, swallowing her cries.

Casey smoothed his hair back and stroked his cheek; the stubble of his beard scratched the back of her hand. Carefully she squirmed for a space to herself and sat up. Her lovers didn’t move, continuing their slumber in the early morning hours. When she left the bed, Daniel simply grabbed on to Julia, who rolled over onto her back and crossed her arms under her head as a pillow. Daniel’s collar was all he wore, its large o-ring laying on Julia’s stomach. They could have been an erotic painting with the predawn light casting shadows over them. She pulled on a terry cloth bathrobe and strolled down the hall, descended the stairs and went out the back door to the pool. Its underwater lights were on, painting the surrounding statues with blue, flickering waves of flowing water. Sitting on the edge Casey dropped her legs in; its waters were still warm from the previous day’s sun. She gazed down to the colored tiles on the bottom, its shades creating patterns of snakes, dragons and morphed creatures swimming within lights and currents. Drawing up her knees and hugging them, she closed her eyes, listening to the lapping of the water against the pool’s sides. A breeze chilled her wet skin, and she shivered as it crawled up the bathrobe to brush the rest of her naked body.

Magali was dead. She could no longer deny it as much as she wanted to. Had she lived, she would have come for her by now. Casey had counted on it. The life she had made for herself-- sacrificed and gone. The independence she had striven for-- given away, her body easily falling back into its whoring for material gain. One set of chains cut off, only to be exchanged for the shackles of another. As a young girl circumstances had forced on her the responsibility of caring for her siblings. To escape that snare, she had embraced Julia and her world with all its sins, to gain what her background could not give her, liberating her from the bonds of surrogate motherhood. That behind her, she had willingly given her heart to a woman who held her freely, only to trade the enslavement of her body for that woman’s freedom, gambling that she would not have to keep the bargain when her lover would come for her. She had lost the gamble in one swing of the reaper’s scythe. Casey looked up to the sky, the night sky’s fires fading in the dawning sun. Star-crossed, a term coined and phrased by the master, couldn’t be more appropriate, but still she could attempt to twist destiny and fate to her will. Daniel had all but spelled it out for her; it all lay in her hands, in her skin. She had only to forget herself in his body, his company, and Julia’s riches. Tears of rage drowned her eyes, and she buried her head against her knees, giving way to uncontrollable shudders and sobs.

"You must really love her, your Heathcliff," Daniel stated, sitting down next to her by the side of the pool.

Casey wiped her eyes on the sleeve of the robe and smiled at him. She hadn’t heard his approach; he was as sneaky that way as Magali had been. "You asked me what happened, remember?" He nodded, and put his own feet in the pool’s water. "She died, Daniel. She died, and it’s all my fault."

He swung his legs slowly, making the water ripple along his calves. "I’m sorry. But I’m sure that whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. Things just happen sometimes."

"Yes, I can. She was in a car accident…she’s not…she wouldn’t have had an accident like that unless she had been less than her best. That’s my fault."

"Are you telling me she was drunk and went driving or something?"

"Drunk? No…I hit her over the head with a statue...hard. She probably had a concussion from that; she was hard headed. That’s all I can think of." Casey hugged her knees closer to her; the conversation was making her colder.

"Then…she had to have been hurting you, Casey. A woman like you wouldn’t strike out like that unless—" His voice, filled with anger, gave away a piece of himself. His eyes flashed with a desire for vengeance that was personal.

Casey shook her head at his attempt to exonerate her from her blame. "I hit her to stop her from killing Julia."

"Killing Julia? What the hell kind of woman were you involved with?" he asked incredulously.

"It’s complicated. I…had…given myself to Julia, while she was…in jail." God this sounds worse by the minute. "And…well, she had that crazy Latin jealousy thing, I guess, and when she found out, she went after Julia. She was probably stoned out of her mind."

"Jail, Latin, jealous, stoned, killing. Doesn’t sound like she was very good for you."

"Julia was going to shoot her, Daniel, while she was unconscious." Casey spoke with a frigid air. "I promised to go with ‘our mistress’, in exchange for her life. She was the only one in my whole fucked up life who ever loved me without conditions, who I ever loved without reservations. Okay, maybe I didn’t like her using drugs, and her business…" She was talking out loud, and Daniel’s face spoke of his disbelief and disapproval.

"Whoa, hold on. So far, from what you’ve told me…she was…a jealous, convicted, drug dealer, user?" he gasped, pushing back his hair.

"Not just a drug dealer, the drug dealer. The biggest on the east coast, Bajo Zero. Ever hear of her?"

"I think so. Was she in the news not too long ago? Something about a cop killing?"

Daniel had no idea what to make of Casey’s grin since none of what he had heard sounded ver amusing to him. "And…I’m supposed to be sad that you’re away from her?"

"Things aren’t always what they seem, Danny boy. Alone with her…I’ve never felt safer. She’s like…was like…a sandpaper teddy-bear. She did what she did in order to survive, and believe it or not, she helped more people then you could imagine." The air was warming, and she let go of her knees, sticking her feet in the water next to his.

Daniel hung his head, the morning sun’s first rays hitting his shoulders. "I can’t believe that. How the hell does a woman like that help any one?"

"Money. …Last Christmas Eve, you know what we did? We rode around New York’s poorest neighborhoods giving out toys. She and I rode her motorcycle, and her…cronies were on ATV’s loaded with bags of toys and ribbons. You should have seen those kids’ eyes light up when they saw her coming." In her mind she could see it all, feel the icy air, their breath on the wind.

"Toys for tots doesn’t make a hero, Casey."

"That’s just it. She didn’t think of herself as a hero, not even close. She just did stuff like that, just because. She loved me--just because. When we spent time alone in her apartment…you wouldn’t have believed she was this…ominous figure. She was like a big kid--playful, smiling, happy. I’d give anything to hear her playing that guitar of hers."

"I still don’t like it."

"But you accept Julia? Her motives are selfish, Danny," she said facing him.

"Maybe, but so are mine." He put his hands in the pool, making swirls in the water

"I miss her, Danny."

"I know, you were thinking of her last night. I could feel that from you. You weren’t there."

"Sorry," she apologized, hanging her head.

"Don’t be. I don’t care much for the person she was, but you cared for her, and I care for you. Take what you want from me, Casey." He spoke softly, his fingers playing with her hair, brushing the reddish strands away from her face, lightly touching her jaw. "Any comfort I can give you, it’s yours to have."

She grinned, and almost laughed when she finally realized that he was sitting by her naked. "Danny, where are your clothes?"

"Don’t need them," he shrugged, grinned wickedly and jumped into the pool. "I thought you were down here for a swim, and I thought, ‘How cool, skinny dipping.’ Haven’t done that in a coon’s age." He laughed, his accent slipping once more.

"Danny? Where the heck did you pick up that accent?"

He blushed, and turned a few times in the water before facing her again. "Don’t ya know? I’s jus a po’ country boy." He chuckled, letting the drawl of his speech out in full force. "Sweet home, Alabama," he began singing, then, grinning boyishly, splashed a wave of water at her.

Casey’s jaw dropped, her hands held out from her body she looked at the soaked robe she was now wearing, and pointing at him yelled, "You’re dead meat, Danny boy!"

"Oh yeah? What ya gonna do, little girl?" he teased, sticking his tongue out at her.

Casey stood up on the metal grate surrounding the edge of the pool and stripped off the robe, cannon balling into the water. She surfaced just at his side, his laughter loud and clear.

"You’ll be needing a lesson in that, Casey. Here let me show you," he exclaimed, lifting himself out of the pool and quickly jumping in; water splashed around her in the early sun.

"That’s it," she screamed, pushing water at him with cupped hands. It was returned in kind, every wave bringing him closer to her.

They panted with the activity, smiling at each other when they both finally quit. He was inches away, and Casey bit her lip, looking up at him and his blue eyes. "Help me, Danny. Help me lie to myself," she pleaded.

He bent his head towards her, his warm lips covering her cold ones, mouthing "Forget with me." Daniel pressed against her, water between them only where their bodies didn’t touch. He tasted her neck, nipping at the skin there. "You know what?" he asked in a whisper.

"What," she groaned.

"I’m starving," he growled and made as if he were going to snack on her.

She pushed him away, laughing as she did and splashing him with water again. Their play was interrupted by Julia’s annoyed voice from the veranda. "Will you two put some clothes on! The construction workers are on their way in," she reprimanded and flung down the garments in question.

They scrambled for them, shorts and T-shirts thrown down from heaven, and raced to see who could put them on faster. Danny kept snatching the shorts away from her, and by the time she succeeded in donning them, Julia was exiting the kitchen door with two mugs of steaming coffee.

"Children, I’ve taken in children," she complained and handed them the mugs. They drank some of the hot liquid and placed the cups down on a nearby table, Casey’s grin mischievous and puerile. Danny winked at her-- roles were temporarily abandoned. "What are you two smiling at?" Julia questioned, crossing her arms. "No!" she bellowed as they grabbed onto her arms and pushed her towards the edge of the pool.

"Aw, come on, Mistress," Casey giggled. "You can punish us later…" she taunted, and gave one strong push.

Julia flew in feet first, her head plunging below the water. When she swam up her face showed her annoyance, her capacity for speech failed, and she pointed an accusing finger at them. They gave her a weary look and ran for the house. Julia grinned, and wrung her hair. "What have I started?" She shrugged, and walked to the steps of the pool.

The line of bushes surrounding the tiled area of the pool reached her shoulders, tall enough that she could hide behind them but still see. Morning had begun with its beaming resilience, summoning forth another day, another reason for the heart to beat, the lungs to expand. Magali had spent most of the night in a hospital waiting room, sitting with a dozen or more members of Joker’s gang, who floated in and out in shifts. She hadn’t had time to change before getting on the truck headed for the house, and with the sun out at full strength she had tied the shirt around her waist. The A-shirt Martina had given her enough cover for the temperature.

The scene she came across would have been funny if it hadn’t ripped her in two. Casey’s hair was wet as she sipped on the mug; her eyes beamed with mirth and her smile was the envy of the sun. She had hoped to find her there, to call out to her and let her know she was nearby, explain why she was waiting; her violation had to be lifted before they could be together again. When Casey pushed Julia into the water and then laughed, the knowing look that passed between her and her companion crushed her chest. Casey was enjoying herself, smiling and living in the sun.

Magali clenched her fists, and looked over her shoulder to where the crew was beginning to unload beams of wood and tools from a truck. She pushed down the scream in her throat and stomped towards the supplies. The men that stepped away from her and her scowl watched in silence as she lifted a beam onto each shoulder and hauled them away. Bundle after bundle she lifted them, carrying them the few yards over to the site and dumping them to the ground. When the unloading was done, she set herself to the task of building the frame along with the others. When the building was done it would be a fairly large place, much larger than Concha’s house, and definitely bigger than her garage home.

She lost track of time, focusing on the sounds of the hammer she wielded hitting nails, bringing wood together to form a usable object. Sweat dripped down her neck, glistened on her arms and chest, dampened her short hair making it curl at the ends. From time to time someone gave her a bottle to drink from, tried to talk to her in a casual tone, but they mostly left her alone. They had seen it before: labor wiping the mind of whatever it was that was troubling it. When the day was over and it was time to leave, Magali helped them put away the tools, and wiped her hands on her jeans. The ride back was a replay of what it had been before, she slept through its bouncing.

Julia watched them roll out of the driveway, the beams of the headlights cutting through the darkness of her driveway. She had just finished talking to her client and setting up an appointment for him. The Senator had decided to retire, and Julia had no doubt that her conniving ex-husband had everything to do with it. Daniel and Casey were in the entertainment room, curled around a bowl of popcorn and watching rented horror movies. She could hear Casey scream every so often, and wondered if it was from the film or something Daniel was doing to her. She had never shared her, and it was a strange feeling. It burned in her belly and made her head ache, though the scotch she was sipping seemed to help somewhat. The younger woman was smiling, laughing, taking joy in the things around her, and that was something Julia couldn’t take from her.

The contrived death of her lover had settled an unrelieved gloom around her, and what Julia had meant as a onetime distraction with Daniel now seemed to be working itself into a long-term plan. She could get used to it if she had to, Casey’s distraction. It was an atonement she was willing to make to lift the woman out of her mourning. There had been no one in Casey’s life that had cared to look after her, to see to her needs, and it was something Julia was all too familiar with. Her own aunt, a guardian to her estate while she was too young to manage it, had conspired with her lawyer and abused her inheritance. Giving her in return the training that now formed a goodly part of her life, and had managed to provide her with the income that lifted her back into the good graces of financial security. When she had first met Casey, she decided that she couldn’t watch Casey go through a comparable abuse by her family. Though there was no birthright or good breeding to speak of, she would not allow the ignorance of others to dictate the path of Casey’s life.

Poor uneducated fools would have had her settle in poverty, but I knew better. I knew I could care for her and make her happy. So what if she strayed? All young people do; she was nearly lost when that infernal woman made an appearance in her life. Misguided Casey, you almost ended in the same trap you fought so hard to get away from. Is it that bad with me, dear one? Haven’t I given you everything you ever asked for? Led you into a better life? She gulped down the contents of her glass and poured another. I know, he resembles her, her look. Eventually, you’ll love me again. The way you did when you looked at me with those beautiful green eyes of yours and entrusted me with your well-being. I won’t fail you, Casey. I’ll make sure, you get what you have always desired, even if right now…you’ve forgotten. Someday, I’ll walk into your office, and you’ll tell me what ails me.

They were throwing pillows at each other when she walked into the room, and she could only lean against the frame of the doorway and smile at them. Daniel’s training was complete, but she didn’t have to tell his master that. She could keep him for as long as she wanted; the young man was ambitious enough to put his own preferences aside and do what he had to get along. The backwater, petty thief he had been was a far cry from what she had groomed him into. Her client would be pleased. Yes, Senator Pruitt will love you, and you…will love being a kept man.

"You have an uncanny source of energy, my pet."

"All the better to serve you with, Mistress," Daniel replied, and bowed his head.

Julia grinned, and crooked a finger at him, her posture turning regal as he obeyed. She handed him her glass, and walked over to the couch where Casey sat. "Fill that for me, pet," she commanded kindly, cupping Casey’s face. "It’s good to see you smile, dear one. I’ve missed that from you."

"You make it so, Mistress."

"Do I?" Julia smoothed her pants and leaned back. "Is there anything that could bring you any more happiness? Anything you wish for?"

"If it pleases you, Mistress. I have no way of moving around without the use of your car. The commute to the school is long, and I would hate to trouble you with my needs."

Yes, well trained…both of them. "Take Daniel with you tomorrow, and choose a car for yourself. Think of it as my gift to you, for your smile."

Casey kissed her hand, and hearing Daniel’s return glanced up at him. He winked in conspiracy.

"Your drink, Mistress."

"Good boy, Daniel. Come, sit with us. By the way, that stunt earlier is going to cost you both. It’s the floor for you tonight." Daniel groaned in complaint and she gave his ass a whack. How in the world does anyone live without this?

********************************************************

Around the kitchen table Joker intermittently laughed at nothing, he was stoned. Concha frowned and ate quietly; Martina fussed over her son. She hadn’t stopped to breathe, taking bite after bite of the re-fried beans and tomato flavored rice. There had been some meat, but it was in such a small portion that she had devoured it first before it grew cold. Miguelito coughed, spewing rice all over Martina who ignored it and cleaned his mouth. The boy’s cheeks were flushed.

"I better get to the store and get some cough medicine for him, Jefita. He’s been like this all day." Martina worried.

"He looks like he has a fever, hija. Let me see." She touched the boy’s forehead with the back of her hand. "Dios mio, he’s burning up. You better hurry. Get some aspirin too, the baby kind." Concha ordered, and lifted the boy from his chair, hugging him to her.

"I’ll be right back. Look after him for me?"

Concha looked down at her grandson and then up at her son, she scanned the mess in the kitchen and the plates on the table, then nodded her agreement.

Magali stopped chewing and sneered at Joker, pushing her plate away. "I’ll look after him." They were the first words she had spoken all evening and they were taken aback with her sudden responsiveness. "Trust me, you don’t want me doing anything in a kitchen. I can look after him. Jefita has enough to do."

Martina extended her arms out to her son, and when the boy crawled into them she deposited him on Magali’s lap, giving her a small smile. "Thank you. I’ll hurry back, I promise."

It had been late when Martina had set out for the medicine. Concha had cleaned up in the kitchen and then checked up on her. The stout, older woman, had touched Miguelito’s head and, feeling him cooler, had given her an approving look for the alcohol bath she had given him. She gave him a peck on the cheek and stroked Magali’s hair, saying, "You should let this grow, Macha." She had smirked then, and gone to bed, leaving Magali alone with the toddler and a sleeping Joker, who had crashed on the couch. Time had been when Magali would have cringed away from the touch; strangely it gave her a longing for Concha to return and sit with her. The old Lazy Boy Magali was reclined in was comfortable, the kind of comfort given by worn in jeans and cushions. An out of date TV in the living room wasn’t new enough for a remote control, and the channel she had flicked it to earlier was still on. Miguelito was resting on her chest, his small hands on her collar, his tiny legs dangling over hers. If he hadn’t been asleep, she would have slapped Joker silly, the nodding he had done before falling asleep told her exactly what he had taken into his system.

Magali hung her head and rested her chin on the boy’s head. He still smelled of baby powder and Johnson and Johnson’s baby lotion. His pants had fallen down under his waist and she picked them up, giving him a hug and breathing the scent of him in. Children were always sick, at least all the ones she knew--ear infections, colds, strep throat, lice, and ringworm. Alejandra had never had more than a cold; Eddie and Mariana had always taken good care of her. The little girl and her brother were some of the fortunate children of the neighborhood-- they had money at their disposal. Miguelito coughed and Magali rocked him, her chest tightening with the thought that she had never done this with her own child; he worried her. The screen door slammed shut and Joker grumbled. Magali tensed. Unable to clearly see who was coming in, she hoped it was Martina.

"I’m sorry I took so long. The store was closed and I had to walk to the next one."

"Far walk?"

"Twenty-five minutes one way, or something like that. He feels better." Martina said, touching the boy’s back.

"Yeah, he does. Did you get what you were looking for?"

"They had this cherry flavored stuff, but it was too expensive. So I got him this." She put the brown paper bag she was carrying on the coffee table and pulled a box out of it. "It’s no frills, probably taste like crap. Will you help me get this down his throat?"

"But he’s sleeping."

"Have to wake him up, Macha. Come on, bring him to my room." She started to walk away when she spotted Joker. "Hijole, what’s wrong with him?"

"I dunno." Magali answered, and pushed herself up away from the Lazy Boy.

She hadn’t been in Martina’s room before. It was a small place crowded with children’s clothing and toys. The only adult thing in it was a twin-sized bed pushed against a wall. Magali placed the boy in his crib, and Martina tucked a rag under his chin, tickling the boy’s neck until he opened his eyes.

"Hold his head, Macha."

He squirmed and fought, spitting out the dark green liquid, but they succeeded in getting him to swallow some of it. After wailing his complaint he fell back to sleep, with Martina leaning over the wooden rail.

"Thank you for looking after him."

"My pleasure."

"Pleasure? You are nuts, Camarada," Martina chuckled, stepping in towards her. "Looking after my brat was fun? I have better ideas for having fun."

"Umm…I meant—"

"I know what you meant." Martina whispered, laying a finger over Magali’s lips. "I’ve never been with anyone other than my husband. No one has touched me since he left."

"That must be hard on you."

"Is there someone you love?"

"Very much."

"Why aren’t you with them?" Martina asked, stroking Magali’s neck.

"She." Casey smiled by the pool, laughing at Julia as the woman surfaced. "She’s with someone else…someone who’s better for her than me," Magali replied, choking on the words.

"I knew it," she said, touching Magali’s arm, and pushing up close to her. "It gets lonely, doesn’t it? Wanting, waiting, and knowing you can’t have them."

"It kills me…inside."

Martina nodded. "You’re a mystery, Macha," she said in hushed tones, hovering closer.

"I—"

"No, don’t tell me. Not with words, let me…feel who you are."

She tasted of sun-ripened fruit, her full lips teasingly soft and strong. Martina’s hand wandered down her chest and onto her midsection, resting on the buckle of her belt.

"Marti, we shouldn’t…I shouldn’t—"

"What’s one night?"

"Without her, an eternity."

"An infinity without him."

Magali brought her hands up to the nape of Martina’s neck, kneading the muscles there. Her fingers ran through her hair, and she grabbed onto it forcefully, pulling back the woman’s head.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for."

"Try me."

When Magali took her mouth, her body fervently responded.

Twin-sized beds were not made for two people, unless they were sleeping on top of each other, and Martina had found that putting half her torso on Magali’s stomach while the rest of her lay between her legs was a comfortable position. She hadn’t slept very much after the woman had sent her screaming into her pillow, mostly drifting in and out of slumber. Though the cords of her muscles sculpted her body, Magali was thin, and her skin was illustrated with various scars-- some much scarier than others. Her hands were rough from work, powerful and demanding. Martina had felt her strength, the lust of her, and now looking at her in the dim light from the street, she knew her to be a warrior. Her husband had been much the same way, lost but strangely confident and strong of spirit, as if their purpose for living was for the fight, the struggle to endure and they thrived on it.

Miguelito coughed and Martina pulled her sheet off to get up. She picked up a T-shirt from the floor and threw it on, padding over to the crib. He was asleep, his little face buried into his miniature pillow, but he felt cool. She breathed a sigh of relief and tucked him into the blanket he had kicked off, restless even in sleep. Hands landed on her bare pelvis and pulled her back; Magali nipped at her neck, giving her a chill.

"Is he alright?" she hushed.

"Yeah, just coughing. You didn’t have to get up."

"Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Martina turned around and flung her arms around Magali’s shoulders. "Are you leaving?"

"Do you want me to? I mean…I should, I guess."

"It’ll be morning soon. Looks like rain. Stay…stay the night with me."

Magali took her hand, and led her back to the bed, making space for her and pulling her down. She pulled the sheet over them and held her close, her body offering solace. Martina snuggled in, her hands roaming and playing, her lips soon followed, and Magali arched into them instinctively. Life could wait.

********************************************************************

The bar bit into her collar. It had taken days to get a release for the body, and as she walked with a corner of the white coffin supported by her shoulder, her anger grew. Gongo walked on the other side, holding up the left corner. Joker was on the end sporting his fresh haircut-- another green shirt holding the body of a fallen friend in a procession of wailing. There were six pallbearers, and all of them-- including Magali-- wore khakis, a green flannel shirt and dark shades-- a uniform that melded with the hundred or so other green shirts flaunting their colors in mourning, guns tucked into their waistbands. Women surrounded them, throwing flowers, their heads covered with embroidered veils, rosaries dangling from their hands as they prayed for a volatile soul to reach heaven and be forgiven. They leaned on each other sobbing, lamenting, and weeping for their deliverance. The virgin, her golden crown shining on her head preceded them on a small pedestal a young boy carried before him. Little girls held long altar candles protected from the wind by paper Dixie cups; some burned their fingers with the wax, but no one complained. Another street and the procession would reach the entrance to the graveyard, where Shorty could look out over his neighborhood for eternity, and wait for his friends to join him, one at a time. She’d seen too many funerals, too many burials for the cries to touch her. There was only fury at the loss of another life, a wrath wracked with the guilt of her own bloody hands.

Water through open fingers. So much had been lost within the past few weeks; she felt the burden weighing on her with every step. Casey was close to being another link in the chain of loss and regret she was forging. An unnatural rain had settled on the area, soaking everything for days, cutting her work and giving her a vacation from a newly acquired and much needed source of income. It only riled her the more; God had a dark sense of humor. Magali took the chance of being seen and rode out to Julia’s residence, waiting around corners and walls to catch a glimpse of Casey. To see her alone. Casey had a new friend, a handsome educated companion who attended classes with her and made her smile. One stormy morning that eventually broke and set loose the sun, she followed her, riding at a fair distance behind the new car Casey was driving with a smile into a gas station.

She pulled off the sunglasses that shielded the dark brown of her eyes; the tiny loop decorating her eyebrow sparkled. She sat sidesaddle on the deep leather seat of her bike, the discarded leather bandana hanging from the German, World War Two helmet she held against her thigh. Her skin itched with the grit of the road, and her jeans, stiff in places from grease and grime, stuck to her damp skin. The black, Harley-Davidson boots had seen better days, and the fading to brown, sleeveless T-shirt clinging to her back was begging to be put to rest. The collar stretched wide around her neck, exposing the sinewy ripples of her trapezii.

Any minute, the strawberry-blonde in the light cream blouse and immaculate white dress pants would catch her staring. Part of her fervently wished she would. Her eyes raked the woman’s body, and she found herself wishing they were hands. Casey was patiently filling the gas tank of a sleek BMW convertible, her nail scratching off a bit of dry wax that had remained on its gleaming black surface. Now her Saint was bending over to pick up a fallen coin, and Magali smirked at the view. A pink tongue darted out from sun darkened lips, and she ran its stud across her mouth unconsciously. The thought of running her hand along the tanned skin of those inner-thighs and up to cup the woman’s sex was dizzying. She had been watching her for days, each time approaching closer. Magali regarded her seemingly content Saint, trying to figure out whether or not she was deluding herself. Her pilgrimage was becoming an excursion into futility.

When the young man in his immaculate suit joined her, giving her a bear hug and a tickle, Magali growled to herself. She hadn’t returned to the house since then. The sporadic rain kept them from working, and she couldn’t afford the gas for the trip.

The coffin was down; laid over bars that kept it from falling into its six-foot-deep resting-place while, in Spanish, the priest spoke of violence and its destructive force on the community. Magali ignored him; her hands folded in front of her. The women nodded, except for the young vatas, and the men stood stoic and steadfast. Miguelito was crying to be let down from his mother’s grasp, so she carried him away from the gathering. Miguelito’s small green T-shirt, stained with his breakfast, formed a solid square against Martina’s black and green swatch shirt. She wore it untucked over her jeans. Magali watched her walk away, cradling her son and whispering to him to behave. She saw the entrance crowd with police cars; trouble was brewing and if she bolted it would only arrive earlier.

Long ago cemeteries stopped dropping coffins into the grave at the end of the funeral service because of the trauma it caused the families. But Shorty carried in his fiberglass box all the gold and weapons he ever owned, and it would be the pallbearers, not strangers, who would lower him into the ground and cover him with dirt, their right to do so enforced by the weapons that surrounded them. The priest sprinkled the coffin with holy water and gave his final benediction, making the sign of the cross in the air with a wave of his hand. Shorty’s aunt fainted. As if it were coordinated, Magali and the others grabbed the ropes to the coffin and pulled the bars. They lowered it gently, making sure that Shorty didn’t get any final jolts, and watched it settle on the bottom. A line formed, hands cupping dirt. A few of the green shirts would stay and watch the truck dump in the mounds of dirt that the hole required.

Magali didn’t know how long it took for the line to finish. She was the first of seven to throw in soil, followed by Gongo, Joker, the other pallbearers, and finally Shorty’s resuscitated aunt. She carried a rose, one she threw in before Gongo passed her a handful of dirt for her to finish the ordeal with. She could hardly stand, and Joker had to give her an arm to lean on. The police watched it all from afar. The court injunction included funerals, and they had all known beforehand how it would all end. When the last thud of soil hit the coffin, Gongo leered. Spitting in the direction of the waiting police officers, he drew the gun he had hidden in his pants and fired four shots into the air—a one gun salute to a fallen comrade. The assembled officers came running, lights flashing, and black uniforms closing in on the crowd in riot gear.

The stampede began, and those that could held on to the older women, pushing the rushing bodies away from them as they went. Joker had a hard time keeping Concha safe; Magali’s eyes darted between the high fence and the pair struggling through the horde. Concha lost her footing and nearly collided with a tombstone, Martina was far ahead, climbing the fence and pulling Miguelito up and above with her. She darted out of the way of a policeman who lunged for her, then a stocky boy who slapped him in the back of the head and laughed quickly distracted him. Martina got away. The uniforms were everywhere, coming in on them like a pack of wolves to feed. Magali cursed under her breath and caught Concha’s other arm. The older woman scolded her for the profanity as she stumbled ahead in the slow run Joker and she were dragging her through. A hand grabbed for Joker, pulling him away and hauling Concha with him.

"Fuck you, fuckin’ pig!" Magali screamed, grabbing for the cop’s nightstick and wrenching it away from him. She struck him in the chest, but the blow wasn’t enough, and she repeated the swing to come down on his elbow-- an unprotected area.

"Run, Joker! Get the fuck out of here, and take la Jefita wit’ you!"

The policeman fell, clutching his arm and Magali could see them descending around her.

"I said run, stupid!" she yelled at Joker, who was doing a great imitation of a deer caught in headlights. Her bellow snapped him out of his awe, and he grabbed onto his mother and pulled her away. Magali saw Concha reach out to her, a look of fear on her face. An electric sting hit her calf. Stun guns. She hated stun guns, and the bite only made her swing all the more at the possessor of the small black device and its blue current. She was surrounded; bees in black official uniforms stung at her, hitting her arms and legs. One landed a hit on her back, which should have frozen her. Her continuing resistance only made them the more desperate to take her down. A sea of black surged over her, and she swung for them, striking where she could until she could be sure Concha and Joker were away. At last, her legs buckled, the currents working on her nervous system. She could have reached for her gun, safe at her belt, but thought better of it.

I’ll take the beating behind door number three, please. And it came down hard until she was face down and unmoving, her hands behind her back trapped by plastic straps that belonged on loaves of bread not humans. She was lifted and dumped, and after she caught her breath from her chest crashing into the ground, she opened her eyes. Gongo smiled at her, his mouth wreathed in blood that was flowing from his broken nose, spattering onto a grave.

"I got two, you?" he asked, gloating.

"More than you, cabron," Magali coughed back, a drop of blood flowing into her eye and dislodging the contacts she had worn for way too long.

Gongo was silent for a moment while he looked around the cemetery, assessing their situation. He gave a small shrug, then smiled again. "Hey, those eyes? They get you pussy on the inside?"

"Why?"

"’Cause I think you going to have to use them again, Chingona," he laughed.

"Well, at least I don’t have to give my ass up." Magali said, responding to his teasing in kind.

"That’s low, vata."

Then they both laughed, loud and hard, until a police officer gave them both a quick kick. It only made their laughter rise in volume all the more; there was power in having nothing to lose. If she were lucky she wouldn’t have to face charges here, but would be extradited to New York. At least a year waited for her in the system back home, far away from Casey and her adoptive family, back into a cage and her fury. Shake it off, there are things you will never have. Bite the bullet on this one.

"You didn’t shoot anybody?"

"Nah, too many pinche cabrones running around. I could’ve hit one of my camaradas."

Magali shrugged as best she could with her arms tugged down tightly behind her. If not for the pull on her hands that threatened to yank her arms from her sockets, the conversation would have continued. With her stone face firmly in place, she took a glance at the nearby butt of her captor’s gun, and wondered which one of the many uniforms had taken charge of her own weapon as she was pushed into a van already loaded with quiet prisoners.

Continued - Part 5

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