Miss Cabot

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

the usual suspects copyright Mr. Simon Barber

Andrew woke with a foul taste in his mouth, a headache that could only have come from way too much alcohol, an ache in his tail from lying on it too long and a warm, yielding body laying upon him. Turning his head he looked out the hotel window, or tried too. Actinic white light tried to burn through his eyes into his brain, reducing all coherent thought to nothing more that daggers of pain.

Yes, hangover he decided as he turned his now closed eyes away from that death dealing light. Water, a shower. Bath would be better but it took too long. Clean this taste out of his mouth, then help his wife do the same when she woke. Easing out of the bed (getting Karla’s warm body off him first had proven a challenge) Andrew Thomas Gillium managed to find his feet. At thirty-seven he was still a good looking man, if one ignored the missing left arm. It had been crushed when his ship had sunk during the great war, ending just above where his elbow should have been. That hadn’t detoured Karla more than a moment, she simply shook her head, then dragged him from the train to her car and home to Knob Hill and her mother.

That had been 1920 when he had finally been medically released, November 11^th to be exact. Now seventeen years married and rather well known in the shipping scene, Andrew was one of those war hero’s who had managed a good position in life. Slipping into the business field with ease and the help of his wife. Along with that still very beautiful wife and now soon children his life would be complete. As he headed for the bath something caught his eyes and he paused a moment to look upon wifes lovely, and at the moment very swollen belly. Another month for the first, at most. Only then would she drink alcohol again. At least she wouldn’t wake this morning with a hangover he had to admit.

Making his way to the bath he began cleaning up, returning sometime later to find his wife had both woken, and was busy brushing her fur with a sandalwood scented brush. From where he stood his wifes position seemed pleasant enough to watch, even though all she was doing was sitting in the bed, brushing her fur while holding her swollen belly with one paw

Had they been of the same species, or decided not to have children (or in the ways of his father had someone acceptable grant his wife children) nothing would ever have been said. But he was a feline and she a vixen. While both from perfectly acceptable families, their children simply would not be accepted in high society. Thus this move to Spontoon Island, near the center of the Cabot families Northern shipping empire.

They had arrived on Casino Island three days ago, Andrew was to take over the local business offices, discover why profits had been less than projected, deal with the local employees and governments as need be. His wife though was his secret weapon, for she was many times more intelligent than he where it came to the art of business.

“Dear” he said softly, catching his wifes attention. “We do have a luncheon with the reality agent on Meeting Island at one, and though breakfast looks delicious, I think you have other things to do today. His wife giggled, whispered something to herself, or more likely their child. Then slowly, ever so slowly she dragged herself out of bed. She was, Andrew accepted, also exceptionally seductive. Even when carrying their first child.

“Yes I do” his wife Karla agreed. “I have already had the desk hire a female Guide to take me to Eastern Island, where I may meet with my Niece Molly Cabot. Then she will bring me to you at Meeting Island in time for that luncheon. After we may either look upon the houses he has selected, or see if we can find either Lady Allworthy or Lady Whitehall. Will those plans be acceptable?”

“Very acceptable Karla, until Luncheon.” Dressing quickly Andrew Gillium left to find the company offices. His wife he knew hated being helped, even this late into her pregnancy. Occasionally a too abrupt offer, as though she could not care for herself, would cause those beautiful eyes to flash. It was, he had eventually discovered, the result of a dark soled father who had damaged Karla in one night, and destroyed her sister Elizabeth over years of abuse. It was a reaction that he feared would never fully pass, though it had calmed over the years of their marriage.

Later that morning the Songmark third year doe Molly Procyk entered a small rented room in Song Sodas, wondering what insane thing would happen to her this time. Even when she was with Amelia it was never certain that entering one of these private rooms was perfectly safe. Yet instead of some dark shady character or government official, a rich looking woman awaited her. And not that hard woman who had given, then chartered the old Three Moons from her. From her stance (obviously untrained in fisticuffs) and condition (very well along in her pregnancy) this woman was obviously no danger to her. At least not physically. A pregnant woman simply couldn't fight that well and the standing woman had no weapons that Molly could detect. In fact she held herself as one who would be hard pressed to defend herself, certainly not attack someone with a tenth of the doe’s training.

"I am Molly Procyk" she announced, closing the door firmly behind her, noting the drinks already waiting on the rooms single table. "Ahn you?"

"Karla LeeAnn Gillium” the older woman announced, her voice holding that cultured sound only the very rich learned. “My maiden name was Cabot. Molly, I am your Aunt."

"Aunt? Cabot?" The doe’s mind shifted into survival mode, shifting through memories faster than anyone but Alpha Rote would believe (and that shrew would have laughed at how slowly Molly's mind worked.) "Yer Granite's little sister?"

"Elizabeth, please. Her name is Elizabeth. And please do sit." Karla herself sat, quite gracefully for one in her condition the doe noted. "Please let me finish my little speech in one go, it is going to be difficult for me and if I am interrupted. Well I do not believe that I will ever have the strength to try again.”

“‘Kay” Molly agreed, deftly opening a Nootnops Red with her personal blade, pouring it into a waiting glass filled with, of all things, ice. “But I get tah do tha same when your done.”

Nodding yes the vixen offered a wain smile. That blade had done exactly what Molly had intended, frightened the woman for no other reason than to frighten her. “Agreed. Molly. I have come to talk to you, to learn about you. And to me, most importantly. I want to hear the truth about my sister from the mouth of someone who knew her. Knew the real her." She noted Molly's instant look of disgust at those words. "Oh please stop that, it makes you look ugly. Elizabeth wrote at least once a month, sometimes quite a few letters a month. I know how evil my older sister became, So did she. I am not here to make excuses for her. At best only to explain what drove her to such darkness. Mother and I are well aware of the depths her soul descended and Elizabeth was no fool either. She always signed her letters 'Your Demon Daughter' after all. We watched in horror as each letter showed the darkness that was overtaking her, sending her further and further from us. We tried so hard to find her, to help her but my sister never sent a letter from where she could be found. Only from places she never stayed for more than a day or places no one would answer questions. No matter the price offered. She protected us from herself, though she could not give up her family. Then there were those last letters, letters about you. All sent in a rush after you escaped, after she helped you escape. It was as though she knew her time was short. These were letters where for the first time we had hope for her soul.”

Karla took a drink of her water before continuing, her drink being un-iced Molly noted. “Molly. There is something that you need to know, something that only I in this entire world can tell you about her. You see, she was my hero when I truly needed a hero. Though I find the idea of women with women repulsive, I am well aware that this is natural. I have seen it too often in my studies of the natural world, therefore God has a reason for it. Never the less, I can not let myself believe that my sister turning to women, to you to be exact, was natural. She had to my knowledge never been with a woman before you. Still I believe it was because of what our father did to her, and what she had to do to protect me from him that opened her to your charms.”

Taking another drink the vixen took time to reach within her, gathering strength for the pain she was about to re-awaken. “Elizabeth was mothers first daughter. There were two sons later. Both died of childhood illness. Mother grieved for several years then had me. I am quite younger than Elizabeth, still in my late twenties in fact. Elizabeth was just in her forties when you met her, then she wrote that she told her true age to you so this is no surprise. Father was a child lover. Oh mother suspected, but she never suspected that he would touch his own children. He took Elizabeth on her sixth birthday. He was still taking her when I approached my sixth birthday. Taking her to his club. Sharing her. I remember well father coming to my room, touching me. I could not know that he was preparing to abandon Elizabeth and take me.”

Tears were in the vixens eyes, still she managed a deep breath and shook herself. “Elizabeth came to me the night before my sixth birthday. I was already afraid of father, for by then he had informed me in great detail what he would do on the night of my sixth year in this world. What would happen when he took me to his club for my ‘initiation into womanhood.’ Molly, I wanted to run away. I wanted to hide. But where? Mother was in New York tending a family problem. There were but the servants, and Elizabeth. Dear Molly when your big sister, whom you love more than anyone in the world else comes to you and promises that your father will not do the evil he promised, you grasp at straws. It was the last time I saw Elizabeth. When I awoke she was gone, as was all the money father had in his office safe. Our upstairs maid Janet discovered father’s body in Elizabeth’s bed, his throat slit from ear to ear.”

Looking at her water Karla shuddered. “I still cannot drink red wine or anything red, I cannot take communion. For my child I do not drink, yet I so wish that this were something strong. To return, Mother arrived home two days later. All was clear in the letter Elizabeth had left, and the reason for three of her strange and near deadly illness’s. She had a large herbal garden you see, and several useful plants within it. Mothers anger knew no bounds, nor her shame. Father was buried, at least his coffin was, in the family plot. I have it on good record that his body rests in the city dump. Minus some pieces. Soon the letters started. Places Elizabeth had been, jobs she had held. It wasn’t long before her anger faded to be replaced with self contempt. You see Elizabeth had come to believe that father had come to her because she had enticed him. She truly believed that it was all women’s fate to pay for Eve’s sin. That of taking the apple.”

For some time Karla remained silent, looking into her glass of water as though it held the answer. Finally she spoke again. “She could no longer abide long the touch of a man, so she turned to herself. Occasionally she would take a man, or a woman for one night. When she was very drunk. Then abuse herself for her weakness after. Most of her partners were barely mentioned, very rarely a name. Usually ‘that fool American’ or ‘that idiot Canadian.’ None were spoken of more than once and never with any feeling other than contempt. You Molly. You were the only one she truly described. Truly seemed to care about. It was, I must admit, a stunned pair who read those adoption papers when they arrived. Mother and I. Yet we took them to the court, had the family lawyer insure that everything was made completely legal. Molly. I do not know what you did, how you did it or why. But her letters became lighter. She began speaking of a future. Her last letter was signed ‘Your Daughter.’ Not ‘Your Demon Daughter.’ Molly... Molly you gave my sister her soul back and for that I cannot possible repay you. You gave her love, and she never had love before. Never. You gave me my hero back, my sister. You gave mother her daughter back. For that alone we would welcome you into our home. With the adoption papers we gladly welcome you into our family. Sapphic or not.”

Again the vixen paused, not only drinking her water but catching her breath, allowing her face to cool. “As daughter of Elizabeth, who was eldest daughter. As such you inherit all when mother passes on. That though unless by accident will not be for some time. Mother is quite healthy after all. She looks forward to seeing you. And yes my dear Niece, we know all about you. Everything, even what that cross dressing homophile in Washington claims you have done.” Karla grinned then. “Very well, I am much a homophile myself, still I can accept those who look upon me with appraising eyes, as long as they never try to touch. And never show their tastes in front of me. After all, a woman does like to be found attractive. Now I have spoken my piece. As I promised I will listen to you. I will hear from you about my sister, her good, her evil. Then I must find Lady Allworthy, Lady Whitehall and Countess Rachorska. Mother has decided that I should at least present myself to them.” She sat back then, her paws folded artfully in her lap as she awaited Molly’s words