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“Hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands.” Led Zeppelin

{1970. The king of America dies, suddenly and unexpectedly, from a heart attack. According to the rules of America’s confusing system of government, the next king or queen is chosen by a mysterious (and secretive) group called The Order. The Order is led by seven human males, and they are an elite group of priests and mages. Supposedly, they use magic to find potential monarchs. However, in 1970, The Order is mired deep in a corruption scandal. All seven of those human leaders are indicted - and all seven eventually flee the country. Thus, there is no official search for a new king or queen. However, the folks of America - humans, anthros, elves - are lied to. They are told that the search is “ongoing.”

Twenty years later, in 1990, America still has no monarch.}

{Meanwhile, after 1970, some of the field agents of The Order - low-level operatives not involved in the corruption - try searching for a new monarch. Most act alone, most have no resources (since The Order has collapsed), and none of them succeed. Over the years, one by one, they quit their search and move on to whatever’s next.}

{1990. A series of terrorist attacks around the globe leaves the American government in a state that can only be described as fucked up.}

**

1986

The rain came out of nowhere. The sky had been cloudy, and - yes - the forecast had said there was a slight chance of rain. So some folks had been prepared for potential rain - but not rain this intense. It came suddenly, fast and furious, without warning. The folks out strolling the sidewalks of New York City went scrambling for cover.

Rav stood, indecisive, and he looked out the large window of the bar. The twenty-year old Lion didn’t mind rain, of course, and he didn’t mind getting wet. But this rain was heavy - and the wind had picked up, too, gotten faster. The rain almost looked like it was coming in sideways, rather than straight down. Rav thought about the subway stop, just four blocks away. So close, and yet . . .

He’d been about to leave the bar. But maybe he could stay for one more beer? Stay, and hope the rain eased up? Besides, it was only four in the afternoon. A whole lot of day was left, and it stretched out before him. He’d been planning on spending it at home, in his little apartment, reading that new book he’d just picked up. And he wanted to get to bed early, because that job interview was scheduled for nine in the morning. But - surely - he could stay for just one more beer. Money was getting tight, but one beer wasn’t going to break him.

Outside, on the faded sidewalks, folks ran for cover from the sudden rain. Anthros, humans, elves - everyone. They ducked under an awning, or they ran into a coffee shop. Or they hurried to catch a bus. Some of them had umbrellas, because of the forecast, but the wind was so intense that their umbrellas were nearly blown away. As Rav ordered himself another beer, the door to the bar swung open and a refugee from the downpour hurried inside.

It was a moment Rav would think of, from time to time, as the next four years of his life rolled on. As he walked back to his table, casually holding a pint of Goldenstein, he saw the person who’d come through the door. A slender hand went up, and lowered a hood - to reveal the face of a female elf. She stood still, for a moment, as she shook off the rain. Her hair was blue, and short, and spiky. It looked like Billy Idol’s hair, Rav thought, aside from being blue. The hood had smushed it down, some.

During the course of the next four years, Rav would think of that moment, from time to time, oh yes. The hood, the face revealed. The hair.

“Whoo!” The elf said, to everyone and no one. “That’s some rain out there.”

With easy and confident steps, she went to the bartender.

“Mack!” The elf raised a hand, waving a friendly hello to him. “How are ya? What do you think of this weather?”

“Came out of nowhere, right?” Mack, the bartender, said with a grin. He began pouring a pint for the elf. “What brings you here?”

“It’s so funny,” she replied, eagerly grabbing the pint. “Duncan sent me out to get some books - and the bookstore didn’t have them, which sucks. So, I was wandering down the street, thinking I should stop by and see you someday, and - pow - this rain makes me come in here.”

The elf with the blue, spiky hair and the bartender continued chatting. Rav watched them, discretely, for a moment, then he turned his attention back to the window. Suddenly, someone was standing at his side. Startled, he looked up - it was the elf.

“Buy you a beer?” She asked the question while looking directly at his pint. “Well,” she said, with an overly-elaborate sigh, “Looks like you already have one. Guess I’ll just have to offer you my company instead. Cool if I sit down?”

“Sure, grab a chair.” It was all Rav could think of to say.

“Celeste,” the elf introduced herself. She reached out a slender hand and Rav shook it. Her grip was strong, he noted.

“Rav.”

“Is that short for something?”

“No, it’s just Rav. My parents believe in plain and simple things.”

“Well, you’re not plain,” Celeste said. She looked him over.

Rav felt a bit startled. He’d never had a female check him out so openly. Or, he reflected, perhaps he had - but, if so, he’d never noticed. This was, after all, the city. It wasn’t the small town he’d grown up in.

“Probably not simple, either,” Celeste rolled on. She sat back and got comfortable in her chair. “I’m guessing you moved here a few years ago?”

“Two years ago,” Rav admitted. “Is it obvious?”

“Not at all, and that’s me being honest. But I notice things. You’re young, for one thing, and you - well - you don’t look like you grew up here. Shit, what’s a good way to put it - you don’t look cynical, or jaded.”

“Are you from New York?” Rav asked. He studied her face. She didn’t seem jaded.

She was, in fact, beautiful.

“No, but I’ve been here five years or so.” Celeste paused in the act of raising her glass. She peered at the Lion sitting across from her with curiosity. “So tell me - what brought you to the city? Tell me everything.”

**

1990

Rav stood and stretched as the bright morning sun streamed in through the kitchen window. Jack and Father Cranagh were making coffee. Duncan and Micah were sitting at the kitchen table, looking at maps. Yawning, Rav went out to the backyard. Drake was roaming around out there. He looked like a typical feral dog - a big, fierce-looking Doberman. And yet, Drake had intelligence, and he could speak. Rav wondered, again, just what Drake’s whole story was. So far, all he’d told them was that he’d come from another world.

Rav found Celeste in the garage, staring at the van.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked. He ran his fingers through his mane, and then he pulled it back. He used a rubber band to hold it in place.

“Thinking about fixing these holes,” Celeste replied. She stared at the puncture wounds in the van, which had been caused by arrows. She chewed her lower lip and toyed with the tape measure she held. “About time you got up.”

“Hey, everyone else just woke up, too.”

“Well, I’ve been up for hours.”

“Hours?” Rav smiled, amused.

“More like almost half an hour,” Celeste admitted, with an easy grin.

Always, and ever, Rav was grateful for the friendship he had with Celeste. How long had they dated? A few weeks? A few months? After they’d dated, they’d become best friends. Rav knew he was on this trip because of Duncan, but, he wasn’t sure he could’ve done it without Celeste.

“And you came out here to fix the holes,” he said.

“I don’t have the tools or the materials,” Celeste said, with a shrug. “But whatever. Gotta keep busy somehow, right?”

“Right. And contemplating holes is a great way to keep busy,” Rav said, teasing her.

“Contemplating?” Celeste looked at him. “You’re finally starting to talk like Duncan. It took four years, but I knew it would happen sooner or later.”

**

1986

“So, guess what?”

Rav frowned. So, guess what could be the prelude to any number of things - some bad, some good.

Celeste continued to stare into the mirror, as she applied her lipstick.

“C’mon, guess,” she said.

“You’re secretly a powerful witch,” Rav said, making a joke.

“Hah! No. Though, I guess I am pretty magical between the sheets.”

“I’ll say.” Rav went to stand behind her.

They’d been dating for almost a month. Rav didn’t know if what he felt was love, or if it was what a twenty-year old two years away from home thought was love. Not that it mattered, really. Either way, he liked being around her, he enjoyed her company, and she turned him on in ways no one ever had before.

Thinking such thoughts, Rav placed his hands on her backside.

“Hey,” Celeste said, laughing. “I’m putting on makeup. Don’t mess me up.”

“You know, we don’t have to go to this party. We could stay here.”

“We could . . .” Celeste wriggled out of Rav’s grasp, and she turned to face him.

“So what’s the what?” Rav asked. “You asked me guess what? So . . .”

“Oh. Right. That. Well, Duncan wants to meet you.”

“Duncan?” Rav looked puzzled. “Your boss?”

“Yeah. Does that sound weird? Guy wants to meet the guy his employee is dating. Thing is, I think Duncan might want to hire you.”

“To do what?”

“There are . . . there are things you don’t know about.” Celeste reached out and grabbed Rav’s belt buckle. “Fuck going to the party. Let’s stay in, and talk, or . . . whatever.”

“Do we need to talk? What’s the stuff I don’t know about?”

“You look worried.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No,” Celeste said, with a sigh. “The stuff you don’t know about - it’s nothing illegal, or anything like that. It’s just . . . heavy.”

“Heavy?”

“Thing is, I’m secretly a powerful witch,” Celeste said, making a joke.

For a moment, Rav stared at her. Then he burst out laughing.

“Gotcha. No, I’m not a witch. But Duncan - Duncan used to work for The Order. I’m sure you know what that is. Or was. It’s gone now, has been for ages. Anyway, when he was younger, years ago, Duncan was some kind of low-level employee - he ran messages, or looked for information, or whatever. Now, these days, Duncan’s got his fingers in all sorts of pies. He owns a lot of different businesses. And I’m his personal assistant, I do all that assistant stuff for him. However, he’s still looking for a new king, or queen. Not all the time, no, of course not. But every once in awhile, there’s some kind of mystical sign or something, and we go and investigate. That’s part of my job, too.”

Celeste said all of that in a rush, because she’d wanted Rav to know everything, and she’d wanted to hurry up and get the conversation over with. Rav could do whatever he wanted to with the information.

“Wow,” Rav said. “You’re not - sorry - you’re not kidding, are you. No offense, but, wow - that’s all true, isn’t it?”

“All true.” Celeste took Rav’s hands in her own and she led him to the bed. “Duncan’s one of the few who thinks we actually could find a new monarch.”

“So what would he want me to do?”

“Don’t know. But it wouldn’t hurt to find out, yeah?”

**

1990

Rav went back into the kitchen. Jack, the Great Dane with the dark fur, was talking with Father Cranagh about New York coffee shops. Rav wasn’t sure why Duncan had recruited - or hired - Jack for the trip, but that didn’t matter. Jack seemed okay, and he’d kept his cool when they’d been attacked by mercenaries.

Duncan had mentioned - privately - to Rav that Jack didn’t like humans much. However. Jack seemed to be forming a fast friendship with Father Cranagh. For one thing, Jack was already calling the older human by his nickname, which was Pere.

“Where’s Celeste?” Duncan asked Rav.

“Out in the garage,” Rav replied, reaching for the coffee. “She doesn’t have the tools or anything to fix the holes, but she’s staring at them.”

“Sounds like her. Trying to fix things that can’t be fixed.”

“Yeah.”

“I was just thinking we might stay one more day,” Duncan said, casually. “We can try to draw out those two humans who approached Pere in the bar.”

“And I was wondering if there are only two of them,” Jack said. “Whoever’s after us, they seem to have money and resources. Would they only send two humans?”

“A good point,” Duncan said, with a nod.

“You could simply leave,” Father Cranagh said. “Which sounds like running away - and I know you, Duncan. I know you never run from anything. But this - this trip - this isn’t about you. This is about getting Micah to the West Coast. Yes? Yes. His safety is what’s important here.”

“You’re right, of course,” Duncan said, looking at his old friend. “But do we really want to drive all the way out west looking over our shoulders all the time? Constantly wondering, worrying, about who’s following us? If we confront them here, now, can we - well - put an end to their threat?” He looked at Rav, then at Jack. He wanted their opinions.

“When we were attacked in the city . . .” Jack said, slowly, gathering up his thoughts. “There was a human in a business suit. Remember? He was in charge, I guess. If he’s here, and we confront him, then - yeah, we might end the threat, as you put it. If he’s really the one in charge. But if he just sent some goons, and we go after them, I dunno. That guy will just keep sending goons.”

Rav realized that Micah had gone out to the backyard, to talk with Drake. But he should be there, in the kitchen, with them, if Duncan was going to talk about strategy.

In Rav’s opinion, Micah needed to speak up more, offer opinions more. Duncan had told Rav and Celeste that he believed in Micah, and that he believed in him simply because he’d seen something in him - in his personality, or whatever.

So far, Rav hadn’t seen whatever Duncan had seen in Micah. True, he’d only known the young human a short while. But, he realized, he wanted to see it. He wanted to believe, as Duncan believed.

**

1986

Celeste led Rav to a brownstone apartment building somewhere in Brooklyn. The building was old and ornate, and the stoop was the highest, tallest stoop Rav had ever seen.

Inside, everything was clean and freshly painted. The air was hushed.

“Duncan keeps an office here, in one of the apartments,” Celeste was saying. They began climbing the stairs. “His main office is in Manhattan. But he keeps this place for all his stuff relating to the search for the new monarch.”

“It’s pretty quiet,” Rav noted.

“Some of the apartments are empty. Duncan rents out a few of them, but he doesn’t need the money.”

“He owns the building?”

“He owns a lot of buildings.”

Inside the apartment, Rav saw bookshelves overflowing with books. A coffee table sat buried beneath magazines and newspapers. A couch and four chairs formed a circle around the coffee table. Near one of the windows, there was desk - nothing was on it except for a few manilla folders.

A large Pit Bull with dark gray fur emerged from the kitchen.

“Hey boss,” Celeste greeted him. “This is Rav. Rav, this is Duncan.”

The two males shook hands. Both said words of greeting - Hi, how are you, Nice to meet you - while quickly and quietly appraising each other.

“Well, let’s sit down, shall we? Make ourselves comfortable. Can I get you two anything?” Duncan asked. He went back to the kitchen, to get coffee for himself and Cokes for his guests.

Celeste and Rav sat down on the couch. Duncan sat across from them. He noticed that Celeste and Rav sat close to each other, but not too close. They weren’t pressed up against each other. Celeste had told Duncan, earlier that day, on the phone, that her relationship with the Lion was starting to turn into something more like friendship. She’d told Duncan that she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Rav glanced at the big Pit Bull as he accepted a Coke. He seemed friendly enough. There was something charismatic about him.

There was small talk, then, for a time, as there usually is in situations like this one. Then, Duncan asked Rav about the small town he’d grown up in.

“Not much to say about it, really,” Rav said. “It’s pretty small. Um, it’s upstate - New York, way up there. It’s mostly Lions, too - conservative Lions. They, um, they kind of have this idea of how things used to be. You know, some folks do that. They talk about how things used to be, and things used to be better. Well, it’s never accurate - their idea of how things used to be. It’s more like - what’s a good way to put it -”

“It’s more like, they’re imagining how they would’ve liked things to be,” Duncan said. “You’re right. Some folks do that - they look back at the past, but they don’t see how it really was. They see a fictional version of it.”

“Yeah.” Rav’s eyes lit up.

“Is that why you moved to New York?” Duncan asked.

“One reason, yeah.”

“If you don’t mind my asking . . .” Duncan said, then he paused, waiting for the young Lion’s reaction. Rav raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

And so Duncan asked more questions about Rav’s childhood. He asked more questions about the small town. Duncan didn’t tell Rav that the conversation they were having was actually a job interview.

As Rav talked, and Duncan listened, Duncan learned that most of the folks in Rav’s family were police officers. His father was a cop, and so were his older siblings. Various aunts, uncles, and cousins were as well. They’d all expected Rav to join the force someday.

And Duncan learned that Rav had never been a rebel. His grades had been okay - not great, but passable. He’d played football in high school.

The whole time that Rav was growing up, he never believed in the conservative beliefs that his family believed in. He’d never agreed with them politically. And he’d hidden that. In some ways, he’d been an outsider in his family - and he’d hidden that from them. He’d never been a rebel. He’d never fought against his parents. And then . . . after graduating high school, he hadn’t joined the force. Instead, he’d shocked everyone by moving to New York City.

What had that been like? Duncan wondered. Had Rav felt . . . liberated? Freed from constraints? It took courage, sometimes, to follow your heart instead of doing what was expected of you.

**

1990

A young human with a scraggly beard sat at a picnic table. He’d been sitting still for some time, but suddenly he slumped forward. For a moment, he couldn’t talk. Relief flooded through him. He felt such relief! He’d been under so much pressure, and he’d been tempted to panic, but he’d been forcing himself to stay calm. His name was Nick, and he was so glad he’d learned some meditation techniques a few years ago.

“Finally,” he said, softly.

A wide-bodied human wearing an expensive business suit sat next to Nick. Quietly, the human in the suit set down the book he was reading. He felt hope rising up, upon hearing Nick’s finally, but he pushed it down. He looked at Nick without saying a word.

“I can see them,” Nick said. “I don’t know what happened - don’t know why it took me so long. Like something was blocking me. I don’t know. But I can see them again. I know where they are.”

And the wide-bodied human in the expensive business suit smiled.

**