Crazy Seduction(erotica)

Fenris frowned. “And Henry Gable is that person?”

M nodded slowly. “You’re aware he was the one who killed Queen Mab?”

Fenris snorted. “We’ve watched the Tennison Clip.” Gren scowled at Fenris for speaking for him, as he had no idea what that was. The Pixie caught that and looked back at the Dwarf in surprise. “How-how could you not have seen it! It was on every form of media for weeks!” he exclaimed.

“Maybe I had better things to do than sit on my ass before the idiot tube!” Gren snapped.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

M held his hands up for calm. “The answer is yes. Henry Gable was the focal point for the effort to overthrow the original order. He was a tool for Baba Yaga and performed his function surprisingly well, catching his challengers flatfooted. I suggest to you that his success was largely due to luck and the rigid thinking patterns of his adversaries. I can also say Baba Yaga is no longer in the picture.”

All three beings looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean by that?” Harkland asked.

M smiled wickedly. “The witch is dead.”

“What proof do you have of that?” Harkland asked.

M spread his hands. “I can give you no physical proof as she disappeared with three billion other Humans on that fateful night.”

Gren scowled. “That’s no proof at all! Baba was no Human!”

“That’s demonstrating rigid thought patterns. Baba was Human. She just made a deal to gain her powers. That deal ended on Skyfall,” M said calmly and held Gren’s gaze. The Dwarf huffed uncomfortably and looked away.

“How do you know these things?” Fenris asked carefully.

M turned his attention to the Pixie. “It’s simple, really. I’m linked to the same deal. I could sense her presence through our shared bond. Now, she’s gone.”

Harkland perked up. “You’re as powerful as Baba?” he asked excitedly, longing to be associated with someone of power.

The pale man gave Harkland a wistful smile. “Alas, no. Baba was given the lion’s share while my allowance was… leaner. Still sufficient to know she’s no longer bound as I am.”

Gren was back to eying M with a critical eye. “If you shared this bond with Baba, why aren’t you dealing with this Henry Gable fellow yourself?”

M smiled at Gren, but the Dwarf didn’t look away this time. “I’ve carefully engaged with the Satyr several times to gauge his strengths and weaknesses, learning what I can of his capabilities. He is a formidable opponent. Fortunately, he’s also young and foolish. He has weaknesses that can be exploited.”

“And you haven’t done so yet because….” Fenris asked.

Cold eyes swung over to the Pixie. “The appropriate strategy to combat his defenses and exploit his greatest weakness requires a multi-discipline, multiple-front attack. This is the purpose of our meeting today. To see if you have the will to be the leaders of the new era, to live up to the legacy stolen from you by Henry Gable.”

Gren twitched as that struck too close to home. He leaned back slightly. “Are you saying Gable is responsible for the death of my brother, Rand?”

“And my cousin Lise-Anne?” Fenris added.

M held their focus for a moment. “I’m saying they perished in battle during Skyfall, the very night Baba and Henry Gable acted out their victory over Mab and destroyed the largest secret ever kept. A secret the Hidden Races Council fought so hard to protect for so very long. If Gable didn’t perform the actions Baba strategized for him, I don’t know who else could have.”

“So, we kill Henry Gable,” Gren growled.

M focused all his attention on the Dwarf. “You don’t destroy the fulcrum which change pivots upon. You take control of it and make it work for you. Make it create a future you have control over. Then take from it everything it stole from you but keep it alive to suffer its failure.”

“He took my kin!” Gren raged.

“And mine!” Fenris joined in.

“Then it’s fortunate for you that he has so many around him he considers kin. You will get to make him feel your pain twice over. It’s my understanding there is nothing more painful than losing a child. If you truly want him to feel this pain, that is,” M said smoothly.

The Dwarf and Pixie eyed M, but they were thinking about that. The idea of harming a child didn’t sit too well, but if it would create the most pain for their target… that appealed to them both.

Harkland cleared his throat. “What must we do to assist in taking control of the fulcrum?” he asked and was rewarded with a smile from M.

“Information is vital to our plan of attack. We must gather intel on the forces which surround our target. Identify who to capture to cause him the most distress to shatter his ability to think strategically. While I’ve focused mostly on Henry Gable, we need a measure of the strength of his defenses. Do nothing yourselves but hire others through intermediaries and set them on a collision course with the groups Henry Gable keeps around himself, then gauge the results. Coordinate your attacks at random intervals to confuse, and we will meet back here in three weeks to formulate the final battle plan to take control.”

“What will you contribute to this effort in the three weeks?” Gren asked belligerently.

“My forces will bear the full brunt of the final attack, so we’ll increase our strength and numbers in the interim. Many of us are traveling from the far corners of the globe to participate. This is an all-in endeavor for us. Henry Gable will be removed from his position as the focal point for guiding our society. That is what we are contributing. Those working with us will join in setting the new direction,” M said with conviction. “What it’s become now is an abomination to the natural order.”

Harkland felt these words resonate with his personal beliefs and couldn’t contain his revulsion. “Humans becoming Fae! Disgusting!” he exploded. Casting an embarrassed look at the others. “And Dwarves and Pixies, as well!” he added.

“Exactly. These inferior beings have no right to take the place of the true Hidden Races,” M nodded thoughtfully.

Gren and Fenris frowned. “What do you mean, take the place?” the Pixie asked.

M looked at him as if surprised. “You understand they outnumber the original Hidden Races by an order of magnitude. Even if the Humans randomly switch into one of the wide variety of available races, they will overwhelm the existing races by their sheer numbers. The original Hidden Races will either become extinct or become second-class variants. They may not be hunting you down, but they are making you redundant.”

Now Gren and Fenris were scowling as they hadn’t connected those dots.

M stood to leave. “Thoughts for you to consider as you plan your strikes upon Gable’s support base. Until we meet again.”

He bowed slightly to the three and left.

When they felt the privacy spell reactivate once the front door closed, they shared an uneasy look.

Gren sighed as he was more comfortable with speaking bluntly.

“I’ll say it. We’re actually contemplating working with a Demon?” he asked.

Harkland was quick to defend their new friend. “M didn’t indicate he was a Demon, he didn’t have the scent of one, and he was far more articulate than any I’ve ever heard of.”

Fenris gave the Fae a weary look. “He was a Demon. I know he hid the spoor and spoke well, but it was more what he was saying that intrigued me. He spoke the truth. That was a rare thing to hear from the lips of a Demon.”

Gren nodded, his estimation of Fenris growing. “Agreed. The Hidden Races Council is dead and should be allowed to fade away. They’ve shown absolutely no desire to support us with the simplest question. Who killed our kin? I agree with the Demon that there is a high probability it was this Henry Gable if he was working with Baba Yaga-”

“Do you believe she’s dead?” Fenris asked nervously.

Harkland nodded. “M seemed very confident of this.”

Gren shared a look with Fenris, then nodded as well. “That felt like truth to me.” Then his scowl reappeared. “The Council could shed light on this but won’t!”

Harkland didn’t want the meeting to spiral down into profitless arguments. “We need to plan our attacks.”

Fenris looked to the Fae. “That’s your vote toward working with Demons.”

Harkland frowned at the Pixie. “Yes!”

Fenris looked to Gren, who nodded. “As long as our goals follow parallel tracks. The moment he shows any sign of betraying us, he’s dead,” the Dwarf growled.

The Pixie nodded with a thoughtful expression. “We’ll have to remain vigilant.”

Harkland heard they were all in, so he moved forward with planning. “Henry Gable works for VRL Investment house in Manhattan. He lives in New Jersey. Two targets for testing his support base. I recommend we set up discreet surveillance in both locations. Look for people who interact with Henry, and we meet again in a week to set a plan of attack.

“Does it have to be in this dismal place?” Fenris asked. “There’s a hotel in Manhattan I have a permanent reservation for. We could meet there.”

“That would be preferable,” Gren said.

“Fine, but we meet with M here in three weeks,” Harkland insisted.

The others nodded begrudgingly as they knew the Demon was expecting them here anyway.

Fenris shared the hotel name, address, and room number, and they set a date for their first meeting.

Harkland focused on the Pixie. “There is likely to be greater security at the investment house, so I suggest this is a location where your stealth capabilities would be more suitable.

Fenris scowled at Harkland’s automatic assumption he was in charge but had to agree with him in this instance. “Fine.”

The Fae eyed Gren critically as the Dwarf wasn’t behind a glamor. “Does your glamor disguise how much you look like your brother?”

“I don’t have a bloody glamor! I lost it on Skyfall, like Fenris, I assume. Can you make us new glamors or use your contacts to get us some?” Gren snapped.

Harkland leaned back from the verbal outburst, then he frowned. “That field of magic was not my forte, and none of my contacts has access to anyone who used to make glamors.”

“Used to?” Fenris asked as he picked up the subtle difference.

The Fae looked away in distaste as he didn’t like discussing internal matters with outsiders. Still, he had to work with them now. “Yes. There’s been a moratorium on doing glamors as they are more difficult to do since Skyfall, and we lost some of our most experienced artisans. It was determined that the new state of the world makes them… redundant.”

Gren wanted to return to Harkland’s first point. “Why does it bloody matter that I look like Rand?”