This is a work of gay Romantic Fantasy. There is no graphic depictions of sexual activity in this chapter but if that sort of thing upsets or offends you--STOP READING NOW!!!
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This Chapter contains characters inspired (some might say totally ripped off) from another writer's work. Goranbixo@aol.com has written an amazing series called Calendar Mystery. Check it out--you won't be sorry. His writing (and a bet with a friend) inspired my story. No sex in this one pals `n' gals: I'm laying groundwork for further chapters so I hope you don't mind. Thanks to all of you who contacted me for your nice notes: if anyone has questions, comments, complaints or want to see more of the characters introduced in this chapter hit me up at HonableRonable@gmail.com . I will try to respond to any mail I get.
CHARACTERS Ben Dover Age 46 -- recently relocated to Kings Harbor California Cliff Dover Age 38 -- Biology Instructor at Kings College and Archdruid John-Thomas Bilodeau, Age 41 -- Dean of Faculty at Kings College and Cliff's boyfriend. Nils Gustafsen Age 32 -- English Instructor at Kings College Orlando Two Feathers Age 23 -- Nils' live-in "Language Tutor" Daniel Prince -- party guest. He has a BIG secret. Sgt. Sam Southwick Age 26 -- Kings Harbor Police Officer. Steven "Santa" Klausen Age 61 -- Author and "A" List Bear Lt. Benjamin Brazos "B.B." Wolfe -- Special Crimes Police Officer "Brownie" -- the previously-unseen Housekeeper of Seacliff Manor
CHAPTER THREE: Backyard Bar-B-Que
The second Saturday in June dawned cold and gray with a dense fog that hugged the Central California Coast. Ben wondered why his brother insisted on setting everything up for what Cliff referred to as Ben's "coming out" party. (He'd also promised a "a veritable smorgasbord of available men and potential dates": Ben found himself surprisingly excited by the prospect.) Around 11:00 AM the clouds began to break up (as Cliff knew they would) so that when the first guests arrived the sky was clear and blue and the temperature was warming right up.
Rod Cleighbourne and Scott Welles were the first guests to arrive: Cliff assured Ben that both of them were 26 but to Ben they could have been a couple of high-school kids. Rod was a green-eyed, redhead with a dusting of freckles on his turned-up nose. At least he had some obvious muscle but Scotty, while being cute as a puppy, was a gray-eyed blond who looked like he might have been sixteen at most. Rod was a hotshot Engineer at Future Dynamics while Scotty did some sort of Physics for Wonderworks--another advanced design firm. Both young men were incredibly bright and equally high energy but Ben just couldn't get past their youthful appearance. He was polite but didn't feel a connection.
The Texan tried hard to follow a conversational thread the boys had tossed (which Cliff and John-Thomas clearly understood but was so far over Ben's head that he was completely dumbfounded) when he was saved from feeling like a complete rube when Rod and Scott both exclaimed "Santa!" and bounced off to hug a new arrival.
"Hey Steve!" Cliff stepped up to give the new arrival a hug then brought him over to meet his brother. The guy seemed to be in his late fifties or early sixties and had a full head of snow-white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard both of which were immaculately groomed. His tight black T-shirt showed off broad muscular shoulders, beefy arms and massive pecs. He had a slightly concave tummy, beefy buns and tree-trunk thighs encased in soft old jeans. His eyes were sapphire blue that shown out of deeply-tanned skin. He also had leather boots, a heavy belt and leather gloves sticking out of his back pocket. He would be a perfect Leather Santa.
"Steve Klausen," he said: the man had a rich deep voice that would have done a voice-over artist proud. "Nice to meetcha!" His accent was pure-d Southside Chicago.
"Steve is an author," Cliff told his brother.
"Really? Anythin' I might have read?"
"Depends--you into romance or fantasy novels?" the leather Santa replied. Ben looked confused. "About a quarter of the Romance Novelists out there are men!" he told Ben. "The prim and proper' books are by Susan James,' the Bodice Rippers by Susannah Carson and my fantasy series `The Crumbling Chateau on Gravespawn Hill are by Hannah Mary Windmiller!"
"The `Crumbling Chateau' series is pretty damn good satire!" Cliff told him. "Read those and you might pee yourself laughing!"
"Alrighty then!" Ben was a bit of a loss for how to respond to this but he was saved from further confusion when Rod and Scott came and claimed the older man's attention. (He clearly had zero problems with "young stuff".)
"Don't worry bro'!" Cliff assured his older brother. "There are more guests to arrive! I'm sure you can find someone to connect with!"
A tall and slim blond man with green eyes was the next to appear: he positively oozed class, style and sophistication which made Ben feel even more like a country bumpkin. His tenor voice had an accent that the man couldn't identify to save his soul. "So pleased to meet you!" he said, giving the Texan's hand a warm squeeze. "Welcome to California!" Somehow he managed to clearly enunciate all five syllables which made Ben wonder even more where the accent came from. Then Ben took a second look at the new arrival and got the shock of his life!
His breath hissed inward as Daniel's face seemed to melt into a new configuration: he was still tall and blond with the softest most perfect skin Ben had ever seen on a man but now he seemed to tower over everyone else at the party as he surveyed them with large emerald green cat's-eyes. Expressive pointed ears twitched with each sound. "What--the--FUCK?" Ben exclaimed.
"What?" said the strange being, "you've never met an Elf before?"
"Don't freak out bro'!" Cliff told his brother. "Daniel" (he pronounced the name with three syllables) "is Prince-in-Exile of Elfhame Smoky Sunset! It's just your True Sight coming on line!"
"No doubt you'll start seeing a lot of the Fey in this general area," Daniel told Ben. "There is an entrance to Underhill just beyond your brother's Henge: Archdruid Clifford is kind enough to allow us free passage two-and-from for which the Sidhe are grateful!"
"She?" Ben said, deciding to focus on the immediate rather than his life-long world view being utterly shattered. "Who is that?"
"Not WHAT," Cliff told him, "it's WHO! The Sidhe are the `Fair Folk. Some are Elves, like Prince Daniel. There are a whole host of others--Dwarves, Fairies, Goblins, Brownies and a lot of different sorts I've never met!"
"Dear Clifford invited me to see if my arrival would trigger the activation of your True Sight!" the Ell told Ben. "You seem to be taking this with remarkable aplomb if I do say so myself!"
"I spect it won't be too much longer til m' head literally explodes!" Ben replied with a half-nervous laugh. "But honestly--if I c'n deal with m' baby brother bein' an Archdruid an' havin' his boyfriend shrink m' head usin' some kind o' sex magic I suppose I may as well just go with the flow as y'all say out here!" Then a new thought struck the big man. "Does anyone else here know about..." he pointed at the Elf, "him?"
"John-Thomas does," Cliff replied. "I'm pretty sure nobody else does. Maybe some of our later-arriving guests might though..."
"In that case I don't think I'll mention any o' this..." Ben said. He was saved from further uncomfortable conversation by the arrival of yet another guest.
Benjamin Brazos Wolfe--who's friends simply called him "BB" was the personification of big and bad! He was about as tall as John-Thomas Bilodeau and almost as broad as the Dover brothers. His short-cut thick black hair was set off nicely by steel gray eyes in a darkly tanned face that looked like it might have been rough-cut with an axe. His moves were those of a hunting cat on the prowl and testosterone seemed to ooze from every pore. (If you looked up "Alpha Top" in the Urban Dictionary you would find his picture.) BB was walking "sex-on-a-stick" and Ben found himself wanting to throw himself on his back with legs in the air and scream "fuck me, fuck me!" but he resisted the impulse--for now at least.
"Good to see you BB," Cliff said after introducing the man to Ben.
"How d' you two know one another?" Ben asked. Unlike most of the other guests this rough-hewn Sex God didn't seem to fit in with the rarified circles Cliff and his friends traveled in.
"I work with the Special Crimes Police," BB told him. "We handle--unique--crimes like those involving Magic or," he looked in the general direction of Prince Daniel, "stuff outside the scope of regular Law Enforcement."
"Alrighty then!" Ben's world view had just taken yet another gut punch. Magic was real, elves and other fairytale creatures walked unknown among humans and enough Cops knew about it to have their own department to deal with it. The Texan decided he had two choices--go insane or just go with the flow. He decided on the second option: he trusted himself and his brother. If there evidence led him down a different path he could change his mind later.
Still Ben found himself overwhelmed by everything he'd seen and heard since coming to Kings Harbor. He lived a straightforward existence in an orderly ordinary world until he came to the California coast: now he found himself thrust into a world he'd barely heard of and understood even less. Worst of all--the party guests seemed to take it in stride leaving him alone to turn everything over and over in his mind and wonder what he'd gotten himself into... Then the last two late-arriving party guests arrived and alarm klaxons started sounding in Ben's head!
Nils Gufstafsen was a man in his early thirties: he was "Scandihoovian" through and through--tall and slim, built like a runner or swimmer. (Ben remembered telling him that Nils was a triathlete.) His blond hair was indifferently cut and his clothes, while clean and neat, did nothing for his long lean body. He had a distracted air that made Ben feel like he was out-of-it in some way--either drugs or he'd gotten an early start on the alcohol.
Orlando Two Feathers, on the other hand, was a muscle queen in the extreme. His long black hair had an expensive cut and Ben somehow knew this boy used more product on it than most women. The kid was clearly a "label whore"--from his Rolex watch to his limited-edition Air Jordan kicks: the jeans were designer as was the shirt that stretched over a tautly-muscled dancer's body. His spectacularly handsome ethnic good looks were marred by a sneer.
The new arrival looked at Ben with no great favor: "what's a freak like you doing at a party like this?" he asked. "I thought this was for people who MATTERED not washed up trash like you!"
"What's a freak like you doing at a party like this?" Nils echoed in a flat voice. "I thought this party was for people who mattered..."
"I didn't KNOW this was supposed to be a COSTUME party!" Orlando drawled lazily. "What are you supposed to be anyway--some kind of fat Pirate? It's just---EEEEW!"
"So EEEW!" Nils said in that same flat voice.
"That's ENOUGH Orlando!" growled a new voice. Ben had met Sam Southwick earlier on and found him quite attractive and charming. He was a newly-minted Sergeant in the Kings Harbor Police Department: a big beefy guy with brown hair and eyes. He reminded Ben of an adolescent Chocolate Lab--full of boundless energy that couldn't be contained. "Nils--you ought to be ashamed of yourself! This is Cliff's brother Ben. He just moved to town."
"Oh--I'm so sorry!" For the briefest moment there was a spark of life and personality in the blond man. "I don't know what got into me!"
"It's OK Pooky..." the Amerindian said. "Tell Sad Sack Sam AGAIN you don't want anything to do with him!"
"Sam--I don't--want--anything--to--do--with--you..." This time there seemed to be a battle for the words to come out and there was a pained expression on the blond man's face as he parroted what Orlando had said.
"Tell him to fuck off!" Orlando ordered. "Do it NOW or no more `language lessons'!"
"I--I..." Nils started to cry.
"Tell him or your chances of becoming a Shaman go RIGHT down the drain!"
More tears began to roll down Nils' face. "Fuck--off--Sam!" he finally ground out. "Just--fuck--off! Don't--try--to--HELP--me..." The alarm bells screamed louder and more insistently.
"Stop sniveling like a little BITCH!" Orlando snapped. "You make me SICK when you do that!"
Ben offered Nils a handkerchief to blow his nose and dry his tears which the man accepted gratefully. When the Texan touched his hand he felt almost palpable waves of desperation coming off the man.
"Let's go find someone IMPORTANT to talk to!" Orlando said. "The Freak and the Sad Sack are depressing me!"
"It was nice to meet you Ben..." Nils said as his `language tutor' dragged him off to talk to some other people.
Ben looked at Sam. "That boy is in an abusive relationship!"
"No shit Sherlock!" Sam sighed and looked stricken. "This is all my fault! I wish I'd never gotten him--us--into this situation!"
"Start talkin'!" Ben ordered. "Talk now--and don't leave ANYTHIN' out!"
"Well..." The young Cop looked at Ben then just dove in. "Nils has these--flashes..." he said. "Premonitions--clairvoyance--I don't know what you'd call them--but he had one that disturbed him enough that he called me: I guess because I'm the only Law Enforcement person he knows..."
"Go on..." Ben encouraged.
"Well--um--Nils seems to think that Dr. Young and Mr. Fredricks were both murdered and the murders were somehow connected!"
"Young and Fredricks--I've heard those names..." Ben mused. "Dr. Young went over a cliff after a drunken binge and Fredricks fell down a couple o' flights o'stairs after trying to get into his attic. Right?"
"That's what the police decided," the young cop told him. "Some of us have our doubts though?"
"Why?"
"Norman Young was a Mormon," Sam told the older man. "He gave new meaning to the term `sober as a Judge'! Yeah, they found a whiskey bottle in his car but I never saw any evidence he was drinking!"
"And Fredricks?" Ben prompted.
"He was pushing eighty and recovering from Hip Replacement Surgery," Sam replied. "He had a house full of servants he could have asked to get anything he wanted from the attic--or at the very least help him get up there!"
"And I suppose nobody knows what he was going up there after?"
The young Cop shook his head. "The investigating officers didn't bother to ask. They just decided it was `death by misadventure'!"
"Sounds like sloppy police work t' me..." Ben commented. "Any connection b'tween th' two? Were they friends?"
"Not hardly!" the younger man replied without hesitation. "Norman Young and Sebastian Fredricks were about as opposite as they come! Young is a flaming law-and-order Conservative and Fredricks was an openly-gay, self-proclaimed `liberal snowflake'. They didn't associate much except in University matters. Norman Young was a mover-and-shaker in the Faculty Senate and Sebastian Fredricks was head of the Alumni Association! He was a HUGE donor to Kings College!"
"So--any other connections?" Ben's Detective senses were coming on line. "What was it that connected the two?"
"Nobody knows," the young cop replied. "Nils reported his suspicions to the Police but they ignored him. That's when he called me and asked for my help. I told them Nils had flashes of intuition that deserved to be investigated--which was when I was told in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't associate myself with--and I quote--"crackpots" if I wanted to keep working at KHPD!"
"So you two decided to play `Hardy Boys' and investigate on your own?"
Sam nodded glumly. "Yes Sir," he replied. "That was my first mistake!"
"Find anythin'?"
"Actually we did!" the young Cop answered promptly. "Dr. Young and Mr. Fredricks both had been visited by Martin Oberlin on several occasions. He was trying to push some agenda on them but neither of them was having it. People we talked two said those discussions had gotten quite heated!"
"Who's Martin Oberlin?" Ben hadn't been in his new city long enough to know all the Major Players.
"Conservative Bigwig," Sam told him. "He gives new meaning to the term Alt Right'! Rumor has it he's bankrolling the local Sons of Purity' movement. They used to be just a small group of fringies but recently they've gotten a lot bigger and more vocal!"
"Fuck!" Back in Houston Ben had to deal with the "Sons of Purity" more than once. They were extremely conservative "America First" types who hated Gays, Foreigners and anyone who wasn't Lily White. But more than that they hated with an unreasoning passion anyone who wasn't in lockstep with their limited view of Christianity. "I'll need t' talk with Cliff about this!"
"The `Sons of Purity' have tried to have the Henge condemned," Sam said. "They took him to Court complaining it wasn't permitted and when that gambit didn't work they tried several other approaches!"
"Which means those didn't work either since th' Henge is still standin' an' they are plannin' Solstice observations this Friday night!"
Sam nodded. "Now they are going after his job at the College," he said. "Him and every other Instructor who doesn't toe their line.!"
"Fuck!" Ben said again. "I didn't know any o' this!" True, he'd been wrapped up in his own troubles but he was awake end fully engaged now. This, he decided Would. Not. Stand!
"I've got m' work cut out f'r me," Ben told the young Cop, "but let's put a Pin in this line o' questions f'r the moment! How did y'all get involved with Orlando Two Feathers--if that's even his real name?"
"Nils was hoping to increase his `vibing' ability..." Sam replied hesitantly. "He found a guy down in Goleta who claimed to be a Klikitat Medicine Man: He told us Nils was being contacted by the Great Spirit!"
"Go on." Ben was beginning to smell a major scam.
"He said Nils would have to follow the path of the Shaman if he ever wanted to gain control of his visions! He said he needed to learn the Klikitat language before he could even begin to study the rituals. He recommended language immersion..."
"Which leads to that asshole Orlando moving in with him?" Ben asked.
Sam nodded glumly. "It went really well at first..." the younger man said. "Nils told me he was able to summon his vibes' and that he was seeing them more clearly--not that anything he saw' helped with the case! Then things started to change..."
"Lemmie guess..." Ben said. "Orlando starts isolatin' Nils from his old friends--especially you--and then starts milkin' y'r friend f'r every penny he could!"
"Orlando didn't used to dress like that," Sam said. "Trust me on that one! Worst of all Nils' behavior started to change. Now, on the rare occasions Orlando lets him out in public, he's just a shadow of his former self! It's almost like he's a puppet on a string!"
"I c'n see that!" Ben commented. "Have y' been able t' turn up any connection b'tween this Shaman an' his stud-puppy Indian Sidekick with the Sons of Purity?"
"Not a thing!" Sam answered promptly, "and, believe me, I've looked!"
Ben rubbed his chin. "C'd be two separate mysteries..." he finally said. "I think I'll spend some time watchin' Orlando and see what he gets up to at this party! If Orlando came here he's looking for the next target f'r th' scam!"
After that Ben didn't socialize much with the other guests, choosing instead to fade into the background and observe Orlando as he flitted around the party, schmoozing everyone he met. As expected, it wasn't long until he noticed the Amerindian encouraging everyone (with the notable exception of Cliff and John-Thomas) to visit his father's shop if they needed "spiritual advice" since Gabriel Two Feathers was "a noted Klikitat Shaman".
Rupert Forbes was openly skeptical. "What's a `noted Klikitat Shaman doing in Goleta of all places?" he asked archly. "That's a bit far from Oregon don't you think?"
"And really dear heart!" Charles Foxworth put in. "You realize you're visiting the home of an Archdruid? If we need `spiritual' advice or a good rogering we can always call Cliff or one of his Druid associates!"
Orlando didn't look happy at the comment but Nils spoke up. "Ah--sweetie--could you maybe get me a glass of tea?"
"What ever you say `pendejo'!" the Amerindian replied. Roops looked surprised. "It's one of our little endearments," Orlando told him. "You Anglos wouldn't understand..."
Ben suspected that C.C.'s "partner" understood more than the other man gave him credit for: "pendejo" was Spanish for stupid. He padded behind Orlando to observe his actions and hoped none of the other guests would draw attention to him. This time Ben got lucky as the Amerindian made his way to the drink table and poured a glass of Raspberry Tea then pulled a tiny cellophane envelope out of a pocket and stirred it into the beverage. Sugar was at hand hand (and the Raspberry Tea was already sweetened) so Ben finally had proof that Orlando was delivering some kind of drug to his "student". The only question remaining was WHAT. Ben decided to find out.
The Texan quickly and quietly moved into position near the drinks table and reached for the tea pitcher Orlando had just set down: he accidentally-on-purpose made too-hard contact with the Amerind's hand causing most of the tea to spill all over himself and the tablecloth. Orlando turned and gave Ben a thorough cussing out in fluent "Border Spanish" which the Texan pretended not to understand.
Ben promptly dropped into "Clumsy Oaf Act #2" (no need to lay it on too thick for this boy) and apologized all over himself. "Oh--son--I am SO very sorry!" he babbled. "I'm such a klutz since I lost m' eye! I do hope I didn't damage y'r nice designer shirt!" (He deliberately dropped that bit into his routine to further put the other man off balance.) Ben quickly poured another glass of tea which he handed to Orlando and apologized again.
Orlando ignored the man and stomped off to where Nils was chatting with C.C. and Roops. "Drink your fucking teat `pendejo' then we're LEAVING this goddam party!"
The Texan would have liked to stick to Orlando to see if he tried to does the drink a second time but he was distracted by the arrival of someone he hadn't seen before. He was a stocky little man with short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard that hugged his strong jawline: his shirt was tan, vest a brown-on-brown brocade, brown pants (with a crease sharp enough to could cut bread) and sturdy brown shoes. A neatly-tied brown bowtie completed the look. Ben stared in amazement as the man removed the tablecloth.
"Don't launder that!" Ben ordered.
The man froze. "Oh!" he said, "I was wondering when you'd finally deign to notice me!"
"My apologies Sir," Ben said sincerely. "You would be?"
The man seemed utterly nonplussed. "They call me `Brownie'." He said.
"Is that y'r name?"
Again, the man looked baffled: "in all my years no human has ever asked my name!" he said. "Not even the Archdruid!"
"So what?" Ben said, "if I ask your name then you're freed from servitude?"
"Don't be an idiot!" the fussy little man snapped. "Do you think I'm a House Elf from those stupid Harry Potter books? Those creatures don't EXIST!"
"Again, I beg y'r pardon good Sir," Ben said. "I am but lately introduced to th' world o' th' Fey! M' intention isn't t' offend ya in any way: I c'n only hope ya will forgive a human f'r his ignorance."
Brownie gave Ben an appraising look. "You ARE God-called," he said, "and the Powers know you're trying so yes--consider yourself forgiven! Now--why do you want me not to launder this cloth?"
"Possible evidence o' a druggin'," Ben said.
"The tea was dosed with White Lotus and Cocaine," the Brownie told him with absolute certainty.
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Ben growled. "I KNEW that Indian bastard was up t' no good--I just didn't know he was up t' that much?"
"I'm surprised you know about Lotus," Brownie said as he began folding the tablecloth. "But, then again, you WERE a Narcotics Officer back in Texas, weren't you?"
Ben nodded. "I know Lotus is a designer drug new on th' street," he said. "I know White Lotus makes you sleepy and highly suggestible. I also know that sometimes the stuff is mixed with Coke to keep the person dosed awake an' active."
"You didn't know that Lotus comes from Underhill then?"
Ben shook his head. "Understand, ol' son, I didn't know Underhill even existed until a few hours ago!"
"It's a gift' of the Dark Fey," the brown man said with a sneer. "White Lotus leads to Red Lotus--which is a powerful hallucinogen and the Red leads to Black Lotus which is a psychic poison that transfers Life Energy to those who know how to absorb it! The Seelie Court will have nothing to do with the stuff of course--and we try to stop our Dark brothers' when we can. But still..."
Brownie sighed. "I'll bag this," he said, looking down at the neatly-folded tablecloth. "You'll want to speak to Sgt. Southwick. He might be able to help you have it tested to prove my words! The testimony of a Brownie won't hold up in a human court!"
"One more question b'fore y' go," he said. "Is m' brother mistreatin' ya in any way?"
Brownie looked scandalized. "Don't be ridiculous! Your brother is a model of decorum! He sees to my needs and allows me to do my job without complaint or micromanagement: he is one of my more--pleasant employers! It is an honor and a pleasure to work for the Archdruid!"
"Good t' know," Ben replied. "An' thank ya kindly f'r y'r good service?" The Brownie seemed both pleased and confused by the big man's compliments as he scooted off to take care of more work.
The Texan found Sean looking like a puppy who'd been left out of a family outing. "Orlando dragged Ben out of here screaming all the way about why he'd even bothered to let him come to this party! Poor Nils looked like a dog who'd been whipped."
"Y'r friend is in trouble," Ben said, "BIG trouble!"
"Oh God!" Sam looked stricken.
"Don't worry ol' Son," the big man said comfortingly. "I'm on th' case now and we're gonna bring that fake-ass Shaman DOWN!"
"You're sure he's a fake?" Sam said. "He and his father did some pretty amazing things--and I've seen Nils make some amazing leaps since he's been working with them...."
"Son--Orlando cussed his Mark out in Border Spanish," Ben told the young Cop. "Spanish speakers don't talk that way further North: that shoots th' first hole in their claim! Add t' that the fact that all th' language in the world a' a lifetime's worth o' ritual study won't ever let Nils become a Shaman! He's missin' one critical factor--Indian blood!"
Sam looked confused as Ben continued. "F'r y'r buddy t' invoke th' power o' Native American Gods he has t' BE Native American!" he said. "Nils is Scandinavian through and through! If he knew how he c'd channel th' power of Thor, Odin `n' that lot but Manitou, Raven an' that lot won't work f'r him because he's not blood kin!"
"Oh my God!" Sam nearly collapsed,. "Nils!" he moaned.
"We'll get him out o' this!" Ben said. "I promise you that! C'n ya get t'' tablecloth tested on the QT? I wonder a paper trail that can't be disproven!" Sam nodded. "Well--you got y'r first assignment son!"
END CHAPTER THREE