Unusual Pleasures

Special Smashwords Edition

UNUSUAL PLEASURES

by

Jackie Lawrence

Copyright © Jackie Lawrence 2015

This book is a work of fiction. The moral right of the author has been asserted. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events are purely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

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Table of Contents

Copyright

Chapter One - Thursday

Chapter Two

Chapter Three - Thursday PM

Chapter Four

Chapter Five - Friday

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven - Saturday

Chapter Eight - Sunday

Chapter Nine - Monday

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen - Tuesday

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen - Wednesday

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen - Thursday

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty - Thursday PM

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three - Friday

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

About the Author

Chapter One

THURSDAY

Sasha lay on the cream sofa of the suite of furniture in the corner of Regan Dumas’s Neapolitan ice cream coloured office. Regan had just asked her assistant, Marie, to fetch them roast beef sandwiches with potato salad as it was lunch time and they were both hungry. Regan’s short, immaculately coutured pale lime coloured dress perfectly co-ordinated with the lovely light pink, cream and chocolate of her office. Her palest of pale blonde hair was tied securely at the back of her head and fell perfectly over the back of her cream leather executive’s chair, ending just where the back of the chair met the seat. She was six foot tall in her stocking feet which were crossed at the ankle on top of her stylishly modern desk. Sasha felt dull in comparison. It was like being around her mother. The other woman would somehow leech all of the light.

So, very exciting to see you, said Regan. Tell me all. I knew that you were OK by the way, I got Calling Stone to make some enquiries. It was all I could do to stop myself dashing down there when he told me about the Doc. Didn’t like to think of you without any support. Sasha felt a little tearful. She’d only met Regan Dumas once before and while they had got on quite well, Sasha hadn’t expected the extent of the other woman’s concern. Mind you, they were of an age and there were other similarities. She had Kane to protect her, the big Were who owned the pub next to her cottage in the village and who had kept her from harm all her life. Regan had Calling Stone, the Cheyenne Indian Guardian of the American Midwest.

Regan was a Valkyrie. Sasha still wasn’t clear on exactly what that was but she did know that during her formative years, Regan had spent time in Cheyenne territory learning all about Guardians for her university dissertation from one of the greatest Guardians on the planet: Calling Stone, descendant of one of the first Cheyenne families. Sasha was convinced that there was more between them than just a student-teacher relationship. She had called the Indian desperate for advice and when he’d realised the extent of the danger that Sasha found herself in, the Indian had sent her to Regan but insisted that she talk to absolutely no one about the lovely Valkyrie. He didn’t want her in danger, especially when he wasn’t there to protect the beautiful blonde.

You look a lot better by the way. I was a bit worried about you when you left looking like an advert for Dignitas. Sasha remembered. It was one of the things that Regan Dumas had been able to explain: exactly why she had a pounding headache, chronic sickness and terrible cramps in her lower belly. She had been approaching her twenty-fifth birthday, the first time that a female Guardian would be ready to conceive. Sasha really hoped that she wasn’t going to feel that ill every month. Mind you, that might all be moot. She dumped the thought into her ‘to do’ box. Might have to clear that out soon. She groaned inwardly, then when Regan looked up at her, realised that it hadn't been as inwardly as she’d thought.

What? Are you OK? Genuine concern from Regan.

No, not really. Sasha stretched herself out on the sofa. I’m sick to death of having to think about stuff. I mean really think. And do you know why? Regan clearly wanted to smile but managed to maintain her concerned expression. Because thinking just raises more questions. And the more thinking you do, the more fucking unanswerable questions you get. Nothing is ever sorted out or resolved. Do you know something else? Sasha was up on her elbows now, regarding her friend. Regan indicated that she was ignorant yet again. Up to a month or so ago I never had to actually think about anything. She sank back down into the comfort of the sofa.

Sasha, can I ask one small question? Sasha didn’t say that she couldn’t. How old are you?

Sasha scowled. Is that your way of telling me to grow up?

Yes, said Regan, just as her phone beeped. Sorry, got to take this. Sasha waved a hand, wriggled herself more comfortable and made a concerted effort not to think.

A deep and dangerously sexy male voice came over the speaker of Regan’s phone. I’m on the floor, he said. Sasha wondered why he was angry. Fifteen minutes from now, we’ll know. ‘Please,’ Sasha thought, ‘please don’t let him be 5ft2 and bald.’ Her world was full of too many disappointments as it was.

Who he? she asked when Regan ended the call and sat back in her chair.

That is Grogan, a shark who is down in the pool, swimming on my behalf. In twenty minutes we should know if I’ve successfully made one of the biggest deals of my career. Regan smiled. Isn’t it exciting? she said, dryly. ‘No, not really,’ thought Sasha.

Why aren’t you down there yourself? Wherever ‘there’ is, she asked, just to project a veneer of interest.

Can’t any more, I’m too well known. Probably wasn’t a good idea to guest on Dragon’s Den in retrospect but then I’m not psychic. She grinned.

Is he as delicious as he sounds? Sasha asked, hopefully.

Oh he’s stunning. Sort of Colin Farrell after a stellar bender, replied her friend, shifting herself into a more comfortable position in her chair.

He is also a savage, cruel, amoral, vicious arsehole. It’s why he’s so good at his job. Plus no one knows that he’s representing me at the moment and he’s in for a ginormous commission so I’m quite hopeful. But back to much more interesting things. Can I just ask questions and you answer them without having to think too much on anything new? Sasha thought that she might just manage that and Regan continued.

When you left here, what, ten days ago, we’d sort of concluded that the only thing more powerful or dangerous or evil or whatever than the Prince of all the vampires was the devil. I almost, I say almost, want you to say that we were right. Regan looked indecently excited, her eyes gleaming. Sasha felt that her friend wouldn’t be quite so thrilled if she had been the one who had woken up from a drug-induced slumber to find herself inside the protective stone ring of the land’s most sacred monument, hissing vampires on the left, a little Welsh augur and the man that she loved on the right, one of her most trusted friends dead on the ground, three necromancers chowing down on a famous young soap star and the unspeakable horror that had killed her grandmother coalescing out of an amorphous black mass above the altar stone. Given the chance, Sasha would probably rather have been having her finger nails pulled out.

I’m nearly sorry to tell you that according to the latest information, ie., Facebook, Twitter and the reverend son of the Bishop of Hereford, the devil doesn’t exist. Regan slumped with disappointment. I know, I’m sorry, but as an entity, as a sentient being, as a living creature you can put a name to the closest you’re going to get at the moment is Piers Morgan. The devil is an idea, an excuse for failure, something to blame for your fucking awful life or something for an authority to threaten its people with if they don’t do as they’re told. It was a nice idea though, better than what actually did come up through the altar stone.

Regan looked horrified. You’re saying that the thing that was buried by your grandmother inside that stone monument was worse? Once was apparently not enough. Worse than the devil?

For me, said Sasha, sitting up and looking at her friend, a million times worse for me.

A knock at the door and Marie brought in lunch. Sasha and Regan sat around the pale, wooden coffee table situated in the middle of the suite of furniture and grabbed a sandwich each. Sasha took a bite. Just a hint of horseradish. Scrumptious.

She continued. This is one of the things I’m really trying not to think about, she said, picking up half a mayonnaise and chive smothered new potato and popping it in her mouth. The thing that my grandmother died to protect me from was my father. Regan managed to gasp without choking around a mouth full of sandwich. And my great grandfather and my great-great grandfather. She looked at a stunned Regan Dumas whose face was morphing from aghast to confused. Sasha completely understood why.

Regan waved for Sasha to stop speaking, finished her mouthful and said, I'm sorry? You’re saying that the thing under the altar stone was - is - your father? Sasha nodded. And you're saying that he also slept with your grandmother so your mother is your half sister? Sasha nodded again, a humourless smile perched on her lips. And, this seemed to really flummox Regan, he was your gran’s father so… no, hang on, that makes you and your mother full sisters doesn’t it? And your gran and you were sisters as well?

Sasha flapped her hands in panic. Stop. Stop talking about it. See what I mean? It’s a bloody nightmare. This thing, the Shan, Sasha made more of the word for emphasis, apparently fathered my whole line of Guardians back to the beginning. It’s his raison d’etre. I’m not to worry about it though because in the ‘other’ world having sex with your kids just makes them stronger and smarter. So that’s alright then. And don’t forget, I’m the offspring of an empty vessel. That’s double points. Do you know something? I’m probably the smartest being that you know. Regan looked doubtful. I know, said Sasha. Unbelievable.

Regan frowned. Did you say the Shan?

Yes, said Sasha, her tone implying that things really could get worse. Ever heard of it? Him? No? Well apparently it’s like a cross between cystitis, Simon Cowell and Zeus. An intensely irritating megalomaniacal all powerful god of old. Otherwise known as the Destroyer of Worlds or the Lord of Misrule or Chaos and who knows what the hell else . Sasha finished her sandwich and sat back, resting her head on top of the sofa back.

Regan blew out a deep breath. No wonder you’re against thinking if you’ve got that lot running around in your brain.

Sasha snorted derisively. All of that and more is down in black and white in my grandmother’s books, her grimoires. They were in her room all the time, pretty much everything I needed to know, neatly inscribed in best traditional biro. The thing is, even if I had gone into her room I wouldn’t have voluntarily picked up one of her books to read. I don’t read anything unless I absolutely have to. Life’s too short. Luckily for me the day after I came to see you a little, middle aged Welsh lady walked into the office and just about saved my skin.

They both opened the tops of their mad flavoured coffees that Marie had nipped over the road to Costa’s to get for them.

Do I know about the little Welsh lady? asked Regan.

Sasha shook her head. I don’t think I mentioned it but a couple of weeks before the solstice my boss, the Deputy Chief Constable, gives me a ring to make sure that I’ve got everything under control. ‘We don’t want a complete pantomime like last year do we, sergeant’ he says. ‘Oh and by the way, my wife wants to pop down to observe the solstice with you. She’s got time on her hands now that the kids have left home, didn't fancy jam making, has shown an interest in your type of thing. Don’t mind do you, sergeant? Just give her a book to read if she gets in your way.’ I forgot all about it until she walked in, apologising for being a couple of days early. I’ve got nowhere to put her but gran’s room which is where she finds the grimoires and manages to read enough to stop… Sasha halted abruptly, the thought occurring to her that Gwyneth hadn’t actually stopped anything. She hadn’t had enough time. She glanced at Regan, realising that she was waiting for her to continue.

Sorry Regan. This is what thinking does to me. Completely ruins my ability to finish a coherent sen… She laughed weakly at her equally weak joke.

You were saying that she read enough to – what? Did she help you stop the Shan? Is that what happened?

Memories came flooding back to Sasha, despite the fact that she’d been under the influence of drugs and alcohol that night. Nope, not as such. My mother had thrown me a ‘do’ for my birthday at the Prince’s behest. I should have suspected she was up to something because it was the night before my actual birthday and she hasn't given me so much as a cup of tea for any of my previous birthdays. I knew something was wrong, who the hell throws a birthday party the day before the event? Besides which Kane was arranging something on the actual day like he had every year as far back as I could remember. Why couldn't the Prince just come to that ? He was very keen, though, to be present when I actually turned twenty-five, like at one thirty in the morning. The bastard just wanted to make sure he was the first one to do me as I hit optimum breeding age. He wanted to be sure that he fathered the strongest offspring that I would ever have, the first ones. Sasha smiled at Regan. You were kind enough to tell me how that works.

Regan nodded, still sipping her coffee. Didn’t help though did it? she said, genuinely sorry.

Sasha shrugged. Totally my fault. I should have started investigating what happened to Gran and the whole mess earlier. Lots of things might have come to light. The Doc, for instance. I had absolutely no idea what he was up to, none. Gran didn’t suspect either. Gwyneth has been reading the grimoires and at no point does Gran even hint that she thought the Doc might be playing for the other side. But if you think about it, Sasha looked meaningfully at Regan, you have to come to the conclusion that a bigger brain than Cadwallader’s was behind the last solstice.

Let’s face it, it could have been almost any brain, seeing as he’s a card carrying moron, murmured Regan.

Sasha nodded in agreement. Everyone kept telling me what an idiot he is. Good old Doc, brain the size of a planet, he winds up Cadwallader with ideas of becoming a real force in the world, gets him and three hundred of his mad druids down to the monument, gives him a completely spurious incantation and while he's banging on at the top of his voice, five rancid little necromancers are fucking three girls on the altar, draining their life force, shoving it back into the Shan and then dining on the girls in a quiet corner while the Shan starts to feed on the energy of the three hundred and pull himself out of his grave. Thank god for Otis, out courting with the lovely Vi. He spots lights up on the monument and runs back to Gran’s and raises the alarm. She grabs Kane and rushes up to the stones. I can’t imagine how absolutely horrified she must have been to see her lover/father/grandfather etc rising up before her eyes. She hasn’t got time to prepare, she just does the one thing she can and uses every bit of energy she’s accumulated over seven hundred years and zaps the fucker back to sleep.

Regan murmured, Sleep, yes, of course. She couldn’t kill him could she, he was her father. Bad, bad karma for an ‘other’ to kill a parent. We wondered about that didn’t we, why she didn’t just kill it. Sasha remembered their conversation well. And don’t forget she still had to perform the ritual, said Regan, awe on her face for the dead Guardian.

And other stuff, said Sasha. She got Kane to clear the site, performed the solstice ritual which gave her just enough power to get home and do one last thing for me, something I’m sure she was loath to do but as someone said, she was between a rock and a hard place. She’d done all that work to get rid of her father, my father, so that I could choose who fathered my own child and not have this power-crazed force of nature interfering with mine and my child’s life and now it looked like someone was trying to bring him back. The Doc so very nearly succeeded that night. It was inevitable that he would try again. He still had a year, after all. The Shan was supposed to keep an eye on me for a year and make sure that he was the first to do me so that he would yet again father the Guardian of these lands. Because as you told me…

Regan finished the sentence: Only the first child of a Guardian becomes a Guardian in its turn.

Sasha nodded. So she calls the Prince of all the vampires and offers him a deal. I mean you’ve got to give it to the old girl, the nerve she had. Protect my granddaughter from her appalling father who wants to fuck her and she will give you healthy female vampires and effectively save your race. It needs to be her first pregnancy, mind you, it’s her strongest and by the way, it’ll keep her father away from her because he only wants to father Guardians and as we know… Sasha looked to Regan to finish off.

Only the first child of a Guardian is a Guardian in its turn.

Both women sat in thoughtful silence for a minute, then Sasha said, almost musing, He tried four times in total, you know, the Doc, to bring back the Shan. The solstice itself then two other times during the year, the second of which he's nearly caught again by Otis and then finally on my birthday. Fuck knows what happened because neither time worked. I actually dragged him along to look at the second girl, you know, as he was a doctor. What an idiot I must have looked. The Doc arranged it all, getting rid of the body etc. Of course he didn’t want me sniffing around in an official capacity, or anyone else for that matter. Six girls died to bring the Shan back for absolutely no good reason that I can see. I can’t help but wonder what the Doc was getting out of it.

Regan shook her head. Can’t imagine, she said. Regan turned to look at Sasha who took a few seconds to catch her stare.

What? she said as it was obvious that Regan wanted to say something.

I can hardly bring myself to ask this but as this whole thing is even grimmer than a Christmas episode of Eastenders I’m going to have to. Sasha glared at her thought hooded eyes, daring the woman to say the words. You know, by the way, that I am here for you in absolutely every way? I promise that I’ll help all that I can and Calling Stone will just have to live with it. Sasha continued to stare at her. Regan looked like it was actually paining her to hold in the question. Finally she said, So who’s the daddy?

Sasha nodded because that absolutely was the question. Well let’s see, she said, pulling her legs up under her as she tucked herself into the corner of the sofa. The vampire fucked me four times on or around the exact time that I hit twenty-five, ‘around’ meaning just before. I was shoving champagne down my throat pretty fast by then so my memory is a bit raw. Not long afterwards though the Doc slipped me something to knock me out and the next thing I know I’m on the grass up at the stones, watching half a dozen extremely pissed off vampires hissing like skinned cats at a black mass that turns into a human shape and then disappears with me, fuck knows where, and ‘does me’ at least twice apparently. Sasha put her head in her hands. See? I can’t bring myself to say the ‘F’ word because it was my father. She gave a shudder of horror.

Regan touched her arm. Can I just say something here? Sasha didn’t stop her. While I’m not by any means advocating sleeping with your nearest and not at all dearest, you know that historically men have been doing it for years. I mean it was almost compulsory in Egypt. Look at the pharaohs. They all married their siblings. And the Romans, they’d fuck anything that lived in the same house as them. Just think about the Highlands with the long, cold winters and in some parts of Wales…

I know, I know, the sheep are very scared. I’m just glad that I was unconscious, that’s all. No one has a clue where he is, by the way. Draining Dungeness power station seems to be the best bet. I’m safe for a while until he fully recharges.

Sure that Sasha had finished, Regan asked, And His Highness the Prince? Off buying matching wedding rings is he?

Sasha gave a snort of total contempt. According to the sublimely gorgeous Vladimir, his reluctant right hand vamp, the Prince would rather have a couple of sessions on a sunbed than marry me. His plan was to get me pregnant three or four times. I’ll probably have twins, you know, twin girls. The fact that one of the first ones will be the next Guardian is completely irrelevant. Oh, and when he’s got enough kids and has grown bored with me, it’ll be his best mates’ turn, then any vamp that wants kids which is, oh I don’t know – all of them. At this present time, as far as I know, he’s looking to buy a piece of land or a house or both from the partner of the girl that the necromancers used to bring the Shan back. See how it all fits so nicely together?

Regan had to admit that she did. So it’s the vamp then? Have you seen a doctor yet?

Sasha stared at her friend. I’m sorry, she said, unable to miss the touch of hysteria in her own voice. Why the fuck would you think that it could possibly be that easy? She looked at Regan, clinging onto the fact that at that moment someone even slightly normal was sitting a foot away from her. If I am pregnant, and right now I’m too fucking scared to find out, I have no idea who the father is.

Regan stood up and took to pacing. OK, well, that’s our first job then. We find you a doctor and get an ultrasound. I know it’s early but maybe at least they can tell you if you’re having twins. If you are then it’s a pretty safe bet that it’s the vamp, right?

Sasha gave a short, somewhat hysterical laugh. Oh no, no. I’ve got more candidates for you. Did you know that the sperm of an incubus, if it fucks you in its real form, is viable for four fucking weeks?

Regan winced. Fuck, no. I didn’t know that. I take it that information is relevant?

Sasha laughed mirthlessly. And there’s more. Apparently the same applies to a Were. Fortunately we didn’t have sex while he was a wolf. Regan blew out a sigh of relief. Only about a third turned so his sperm would only have lasted a week at the most which unfortunately fits nicely into my timescales. So, just to re-cap: I could be pregnant by either my own father, a vampire that don’t forget was supposed to protect me from getting pregnant by my own father, an incubus whose reason for living is to have sex with females or the man that bought me up who, if I’m honest, is the man I love, a full grown Alpha werewolf who wouldn’t marry me even if he wanted to.

Regan stared unblinkingly at her friend and said, You really need to stop thinking about stuff don’t you.

Regan called in Marie and asked for more coffee. She took a call from Grogan who confirmed in his harsh, angry sounding voice that, We’ve got them, forty cents under the asking price. Congratulations, you’re now a billionaire.

Regan had to sit down. Holy fuck, he’s good. Forty cents per share under the asking price. If we hadn’t already established that there wasn’t a devil I’d be wondering exactly who owned that man’s soul. She moved back to where Sasha was sitting, looking lost and miserable.

Do you know what I really, really wish would have happened? Sasha said quietly. Regan waited for her to carry on. I really hoped that if I was pregnant, performing the ritual would make me miscarry. Is that a terrible thing to hope for? Again, Regan waited. I don’t want kids. Certainly and absolutely not now. What the hell am I going to do with a kid, Regan? I’ve proved over the last three weeks that I can’t even look after myself.

Regan patted her hand. I take it that you didn’t miscarry then?

Sasha shook her head. Don’t think so. Didn’t notice, you know, anything passing.

There, you see? That’s good. Maybe you’re not pregnant after all, Regan said. Or maybe it was so small, almost nothing there so nothing to be affected.

She shook her head. I don’t know. I just don’t know. Normally I would have just gone to the Doc. I can’t go to a human doctor. I haven’t got a clue how long this pregnancy might last for a start.

Regan was on her feet again. That will be my job, she said with such surety and confidence in her voice that Sasha felt her spirits lift slightly. Do not worry for one second, Sasha. By tomorrow night I will have sorted out a doctor. Sasha felt that she should be more grateful than she felt, her face clearly reflecting her distraction as Regan asked, Anything else you want to tell me?

Sasha hauled in a deep breath and took great pleasure in letting it out slowly and with no small amount of theatrical misery. Do you know who you are, Regan? she asked, turning to gaze forlornly at her friend.

Er, yes and no, said Regan, hoping to strike a balance. She could have said that generally she was considered to be a plastic bag for all the attention that Sasha paid to her reply.

I haven’t got a clue who I am any more, Sasha said, frowning.

Regan rolled her eyes in the direction of the ceiling then rolled them back to look at Sasha. I suggest you get off your backside and go out and find yourself pretty damn quick.

Chapter Two

With Regan’s advice sitting on top of her ‘to do’ list, Sasha made her way to her Jeep, feeling like it had been about fifteen years since she had parked it. She made her way over to New Scotland Yard for a meeting called by her boss, DCC Malcolm Drury. While it was great to have an excuse to see Regan Dumas, this meeting was the real reason for her three hour trek up from the village to the capital. Gwyneth, the DCC’s wife and one of the bright spots in Sasha’s life, had arrived at the village on Tuesday.

Malcolm’s on a four day jolly in London, she’d said in her pretty Welsh lilt, so I’m here to look after you for a few days. By ‘look after’ she meant cook, shop, clean, iron and study her grandmother’s grimoires, the source of much information about recent events in the village. Still, she’d hardly scratched the surface. One of the books was massive, nearly two feet long and five inches thick, leather bound and with a lock and key. It was thanks to the grimoires that Sasha had found out about the Shan, her father and why on earth her grandmother had effectively sold her to the Prince of all the vampires. Yeah, well, that was one plan that died dismally in the execution. As Kane said, plans never, ever work.

During the build up to the previous year’s solstice celebrations the Arch Druid of England and Wales, a generally recognised moron, had apparently tried to raise something from within the great stone circle, something that her grandmother, the venerable and powerful Guardian of the Stones, had then used all of her considerable and long accumulated power to send back. Everyone had assumed that Cadwallader had been trying to tap into the great power that rose to the surface of the earth through the stones because the whole ridiculous farce had taken place the night before the solstice, the great pagan celebration of fertility and growth, the night when the Guardian of the Stones took the power that rose from deep in the earth up through the huge central stone, into her body and then thrust it back into the land, making it fruitful for another year. What Cadwallader had really been attempting was to raise the Shan, an ‘other’ being of old, a god of long dead generations like the Greek gods or the Romans but much older. And as it transpired, Sasha’s father, and her grandfather. In fact he had sired the whole Guardian line right back to the beginning. Sasha couldn't dwell on that fact for long. It started a sort of fracturing in her mind and if she didn’t shut it down the chances