With nine adults, two infants, a preschooler and a terrified teenager who'd narrowly missed being assaulted and killed, Taisa's hotel suite at the airport was a little too crowded for the conversation at hand. Alphonse had been downright hysterical, insisting that nobody leave the hotel—or even venture out into the hallway—until they boarded the plane out of Charleston to Orlando on their way to catch the next scheduled flight on Air Carribe to the island of Ranamuerte. Once they reached the island the Red Coats and Black Coats would examine Hohenheim's portal stone for suspicious activity—and, perhaps, Edward and Mustang would get legally married…or not. At the moment, if one was to take the temperature of the tension between the two, odds favored that the only chance rice might be pelted would be if Alycia began playing with her Chinese take-out.

The little girls were the only ones blissfully unaware that most of the grownups in the room were within a hair's breadth of shouting at one another, particularly when Edwin reluctantly admitted that he'd snagged Teddy's little Ivory mp3 recorder, stuffed it in his shirt and recorded every damn word of their conversations during that damn-near-day long disclosure of family secrets—all the way back to the day when the brothers had chalked out a circle in the basement of their family farmhouse and changed their world forever. Alphonse had gone dead white with rage and Ed had to be physically restrained by Hughes and Mustang. What hurt the boy the most was seeing his aunt turn her face away, biting her lips until they bled slightly, then fixing him with a terrible expression and reminding him that he'd blown their carefully crafted cover and quite possibly condemned them all to a gruesome death at Envy's hands—and that Envy would not hesitate to kill the little girls. "Take a good look at her," she told him sternly, one hand gesturing towards her only child, greedily sucking at her bottle in Remy's arms. "If she dies because of this, it's because of your stupidity."

Mastering his anger, Alphonse informed the family that from this moment Edwin could no longer be trusted with the family's secrets—and could not be trusted to go without full parental supervision. "My mistake," he sighed wearily, "was thinking that you were like Brother and I were at your age, that you had even a modicum of maturity and that you'd put the safety of your family first. I was wrong, apparently—so Jeanne-Marie has graciously agreed to serve as your….babysitter…until your father Fritz returns."

The boy's mouth dropped open. One fierce glare from his new nanny made him close it promptly. "I ain't gonna beat you, child," she warned him with smile devoid of anything closely resembling warmth. "But by de time I be done wit you, you wish I had. My Remy—if he done his family dirt like you did, cher, I boot his sorry ass right over de goalpost. But yo' people—dey don't believe an ass-whuppin' gonna make you straighten up an' fly right. Say I got to be creative in dealin' wid you, 'cause you think you so smart, non? So from now on, you ain't wipin' your ass widout my permission, d'accord? An' you can just hand over your iPod –you don't need dat toy. You ain't goin' online, either, an' no cable tv. From dis point on, you better sir an' ma'am your betters an' if Teddy-cher or Gracie say frog, you damn well better ask 'em how high dey want you to jump, oui? Now, dese babies don't got disposable diapers—so you better help out yer aunties by washin' out de contents of dese." She pointed a bony finger towards a pair of matching diaper bags. "An' you better wash 'em good an' do it right, 'cause if I see one hint o' diaper rash on either o' these babies be-hinds, you gonna be the one who sits up wid dem when they screamin' their heads off. Now…git."

The only thing that assuaged Alphonse's anxiety was the knowledge that his two older children had been warned off and were safely out of range, and that both Win-Sara and Alfons wouldn't give up until they'd reached Fritz by phone, making sure he understood that Edwin was safe, but on no account was he to return to Resembool South until further notice. Taisa had likewise left voice mails to his Uncle Simon, advising the old man that he and Edward were heading straight to Ranamuerte. He hinted that there was some friction between them still, "so if you still want to come just to visit, I'd be glad to see you—and Nigel, if he's traveling with you. Just don't be too disappointed if the wedding doesn't come off—at least not now."

Edward, on the other hand, had snuck out to the lobby with his cell phone to speed dial a certain number stored on his Motorola. "Hello, Paninya? Edward Elric here."

There was a low, sarcastic snort on the other end. "Well….if it ain't Mister Little Mon Elric. You manage to kiss and make up with Mustang? Or did he get him some good sense and dump your cheatin' ass? This be the second time you broke that man's heart since I met you, you pimple-pricked little—" Before he could fire back an acidic retort there was a struggle on the Ranamuerte side of the discussion. "Paninya! Is that any way—give me that phone, right this instant! Ohhh, I'm so sorry, Mister Elric! She's generally a lovely girl, but there are times---"

Edward cut him off abruptly. "The wedding is on, Paul. We'll be flying out to Orlando tomorrow. Hard part will be getting a connection with Air Carribe."

Paul Youngblood, formerly of American Airlines Steward Service, now director of the Hope Springs Resort Chapel of Eternal Bliss, chuckled merrily over the phone. "Ed, darling, not to worry! Ever since the government legalized same sex marriage on the island we've had such a rush of couples winging down that we've got daily departures now from Orlando to Port Norman. And don't fret about facilities, either! Soon as I heard you lovebirds were planning to get married I've had you penciled in. May take a bit of shuffling, but you'll have the best of everything, just as I promised. Granted, now, we've got a contingent of Dianic Witches coming down for a mass handfasting this week—oh, and there's some pesky DEA agents threatening darling Paninya over the exportation of crystallized toad venom—but that's all a lie, Edward. A filthy lie, and I hope their pee-pee's drop off and get eaten by the fishies. You don't worry your pretty head about this. You just go make up with La Divine Mustang—rub his toes, make him breakfast in bed, buy him some nice prezzies—a good hand job—whatever it takes. And I'll see you as soon as you arrive. Ciao, darling!"

Soon as Edward returned from the lobby Mustang cornered him. "Chaos in here," he told his partner. "We could talk in the bathroom, but Remy's got Teddy in there. Says they would be 'in and out in a few minutes'."

Ed smirked, "Sounds like they'll be in and out…and in and out…and in and out-ing until he's satisfied that he's got Teddy calm enough to sleep. Bet you Mays and Gracia are next in line—unless my brother and Ai-san—"

Mustang looked shocked. "Al---and Ai-san?? I know he's more than a little interested, but I doubt she'd ever consider—"

"Shut up, Roy,' he snapped. "I was only kidding. Jeeze, get that sharp stick out of your ass. I don't stick my nose into my brother's love life."

"The hell you don't. You're a manipulative, meddling bastard—and I'm still pissed as hell at you. In here." Snatching at Ed's arm, Mustang steered him into the stairwell and closed the door behind them. Glancing around, he gestured for silence, making sure there was nobody else around. Without preamble, he grabbed Edward by the shoulders and shoved him hard against the wall.

"What the f—"

"Shut up. For once in your goddamn life, shut up and listen to me." The fingers tightened. Edward looked up into Taisa's face as if he'd never seen his lover before. It was startling how…tired he looked, as if the separation of last week had taken a great deal out of him. He was unusually pale, his mouth a grim, tight line, his dark eyes full of so much pain that a block of ice congealed in the pit of Edward's stomach. He's had enough of us. He's leaving for good this time.

Divining the panic on Edward's face, Taisa kept his voice calm. "I'm not going anywhere—even though nobody would blame me a damn bit if I did. And yes—I will marry you, you son of a bitch." He shook his head in defeat. "I hate how you've dug yourself into my heart. I hate the way I can't breathe when we're apart. Nobody should be so essential to my happiness. I've tried to walk away. I had no intention of coming back—but Teddy tore me a new asshole over the way I left, and Falman said if I didn't resolve this face to face with you I'd regret it the rest of my life."

Hope flickered inside the older man. "Taisa…Roy…I—"

"I told you to shut the fuck up! God-damn, do you ever hear anything I say, Edward? You won. I can't live without you. And yeah, I did talk to Heiderich's fetch. He showed me what happened, showed me how much you loved me. Point is, you never should have let me find out like this—me or anyone else. You didn't lie outright—but this was something too important to keep from me."

Ed didn't look away. "If I told anyone, it might have gotten back to my brother. I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect Alphonse."

"Which means you didn't think you could trust me with this. You should know me better, after all these years."

The older alchemist's eyes glistened. "You're right. And I'm sorry. Thank you for forgiving me."

Mustang moved in closer. "Oh, I haven't forgiven you Ed. Not yet." His hand snaked around his lover's back, snatching hold of Edward's lengthy gold ponytail. "And the payback is gonna be a bitch."

"Hey! What the fuck are—"

"I told you to shut up. Now be quiet." The button fastening Ed's collar pinged against the railing as Taisa tore it open, folding the crisp linen back from Edward's tanned throat. He admired the glowing skin for a few moments, licking his lips a little. Then he fastened his mouth to that inviting flesh, aiming for that oh so sensitive spot about two inches behind Ed's ear.

"Nrgghhhh!" Edward's eyes grew wide with shock about the same time his knees turned to Jello. Mustang was nipping, sucking hard…biting gently…licking, goddamn it…ohhhh. Oh god, it sent hot shivers along his spine, made him shudder with delight—god, he was so fucking sensitive…oh yeah…there.

And he wasn't stopping, either. A warm tongue gently circled the inside of his ear and a whisper of warm breath put undue pressure on the zipper of his trousers. Then that demanding mouth moved downward again, this time towards that tender flesh above his collarbone. More nipping…more sucking. After so damn long that roving mouth had him sliding down to his knees, weak with need. He tried to caress his lover, only to have his hands rudely shoved away. That death grip on his hair hadn't eased any, either.

Realizing that Edward was in peril of banging the crap out his knees, Roy steered him away from the wall and onto the steps, where Roy laid him back against the cold concrete, crouched over his supine body and continued to feast, making soft wet sounds, punctuated with murmurs and purrs of satisfaction, like some sleek predator with its prey helpless and quivering beneath its paws.

A deep, ravenous kiss and Edward was flipped over. Mustang was riding him now, pressing the hot ridge of his cock firmly into the cleft of Ed's buttocks as he continued his relentless sucking and biting. "God…Taisa..." he moaned, arching his hips backwards, hoping to coax his angry lover into something more substantial than that maddening dry humping that was driving him berserk. He vaguely remembered their first date, doing the same damn thing in the back seat of Teddy's VW microbus, how Taisa had begged him frantically to fuck him…how he had refused, too afraid that if they bedded so soon Roy would consider the older man little more than just a fevered quickie and a one time fling. Edward had known even before he'd seen Taisa that the younger man was his Colonel reborn and refused to take any risk that could drive them apart yet again. Instead they'd been caught by a rookie cop that bore a scary resemblance to Roy's former First Lieutenant. They'd been caught with their pants down—literally. Ed had been bitten on the ass by Officer Hawkeye's dope dog after getting a cold nose right up his butt. He'd snapped her gun in half with his bare hand and they'd both gotten hauled off to the slammer.

It had nearly been the end of them, even before they'd begun.

There had been some fierce quarrels over the years—but nothing would ever be as bad as their first date. Even this mess with Heiderich—Ed never doubted that they would somehow muddle through the mess and find their way back together. If this was Roy's price—making him yearn, making him suffer, giving him the worst case of blue balls since that night in Amestris when the Colonel shoved him out of his lap when Ed was a horny teenager and Roy was mourning Maes Hughes—then Ed would pay it, goddamn it.

Abruptly, Roy pulled away. There was the sound of ragged breathing. A low, guttural cry, choked off, followed by soft groans. The sound of a zipper being done up. "Get up, Ed."

His neck felt vaguely sore from all the sucking and gnawing. His cock was screaming at him, demanding a little quid pro quo. Ed mentally informed his penis to shut the hell up until he could manage a few minutes alone in the shower, which was currently occupied by a couple of writhing heterosexuals. Gracia was limber, Hughes was inventive and a flustered Alphonse had just turned up the tv to drown out the sound of wet flesh pounding against slick tile.

To his surprise, Mustang gathered him gently into his arms, cradling Ed's head against his shoulder, softly nuzzling the blond tangles. "Goddamn you, Edward Elric," he whispered softly. "Don't you ever break my heart again. And since you asked me to marry you, I hope you like your….engagement ring."

Ring? "What the fuck are you…no…you…didn't…"

Roy smirked. "Might want to stock up on turtlenecks, lover. Those love bites aren't going to fade anytime soon. Or," he offered, "we could see if Teddy or Gracia have anything to cover them up—but I doubt it."

Ed glowered up at the love of his life. "All right, you bastard. You got even with me, fair and square. I promise not to hold out on you. You promise to marry me when we get to the island."

Mustang held up a cautioning finger. "And one thing more, Edowado. Until I get my ring, you keep your goddamn hands off my body."

Ed's jaw dropped in horror. "Y-you don't mean…?"

A curt nod. "You can always practice on your own. Might improve your technique."

"MUSTANG! YOU SON OF A---"

ELSEWHERE……

"Play it again."

"Sure."

There's a hole in the world like a great black pit

And it's filled with people who are filled with shit—

And the vermin of the world inhabit it—

"BUT NOT FOR LOOOONNNGG! God--I LOVE that! I ADORE Johnny Depp!"

"Can I eat him?"

Envy considered carefully. "Only if he won't fuck me. C'mon! C'mon! Find a parking space already!"

The new trainee usher at the Regal Cinemas 20, five exits down from the Miami-Orlando International Airport, nervously thumbed his walkie-talkie and prayed like hell Mr., Albertson wasn't at lunch. "H-hello, Sir? This is, ah, Chris. Y'know. The new guy? Yeah…uh huh…Right, but sir there's a problem here. I'm working the 3:45 showing of Sweeney Todd, that's in number 14, A-wing. No—not like that. Just some weird guy who brought in a drink from Sonic. I asked him to put it in the trash…and…and…Welllll…he tried to bite me! No, some weird Goth kid, but his teeth, jeeze—looked like he had 'em filed. All pointy. Long dreadlocks. Weird, huh? You will?? Thanks sir!"

In the back row, 17-year-old Peyton Boland was getting a world class brain freeze as he chugged down a Mega Thirst-Buster PowerAde. "Excuse me—did you buy that here?" the skinny dude with the dreads asked as he leaned over the back of Peyton's seat.

"Yeah…why?"

"Trade ya for something stronger?" Looking around for an usher, the scrawny guy pulled a beer out of his coat. "I want that cup."

"Dude!" Peyton's jaw dropped. "Got yerself a deal, man!" His eyes glinted greedily. "I'll just take it in the shitter and knock it back. Thanks, bro'!"

Envy poured the PowerAde on the floor, dumped the content of his Route 55 Cherry Limeade into the Regal Cinemas cup and tossed the empty to Gluttony, who grimaced at the chewy texture of the Styrofoam but swallowed it down anyway.

Chris the usher spent an uncomfortable half-shift scrubbing toilets after Mr. Albertson hunted down the smugglers and found the Goth kid serenely sucking down his Thirst Buster and sharing an extra large tub of buttered popcorn with his fat friend. With no usher to shut him up, Envy was free to sing along—in fact, with a little encouragement all the Fleet Street fans were shouting along with him—so loudly the projectionist had to crank up the volume in the theatre next door…

Not one man, no, nor ten men.
Nor a hundred can assuage me.
I will have you!
And I will get him back even as he gloats
In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats…

Chris had just finished mopping up a puddle of urine from the third stall when he heard someone moaning and vomiting in the handicap stall at the end of the row. "Hey! You all right in there?" There was a loud gurgling noise and what sounded like somebody begging Jesus to save him—first Jesus, then his mother.

By the time Mr. Albertson stormed in gouts of blood-streaked vomit were splattering all over the floor and the boy in the handicap stall was screaming for mercy. There was a beer bottle resting on the sanitary napkin disposal bin. Albertson sniffed the contents and jerked his head abruptly. Chris stared at his boss, who shook his head grimly. "Call 911. Hurry. Whatever the hell it is—it didn't come from Budweiser.."

I will have vengeance.
I will have salvation…

"Dinner and a movie, Gluttony. Movie for me," Envy stretched luxuriously in the warm spring air, "and dinner for you."

"Where?"

"The trunk—remember? The food we packed in Charleston. Should still be fresh."

But after three days in the trunk of Envy's rented Hummer the 'food' has lost much of its fight. "You know, I was going to make this a family reunion, but that bastard Edward and that wimpy brother of his gave us the slip. We know where they're heading—and we know what flight they're going to be on. Much fun as it would be to kill you slowly and make your pansy-ass son watch…I don't think you're going to last that much longer, Fritz. Still…you're an ELRIC. So I'll ask you the same thing I asked your pretty son: do you want me to fuck you before or after I kill you? Because you're going to die—and you're going to get fucked. That's not up for negotiation. Or…hummm…" he flicked out the lovely silver handled razor he'd purchased after seeing the movie, "do you like movies? Have you seen Sweeney Todd? Isn't Johnny Depp wonderful?? Would you like to be fucked by Johnny Depp?" The feral features began to blur and change as the razor began its dance towards the throat of Fritz Lang Elric—son of Alfons Heiderich Elric, grandson of Alphonse Elric…father of Edwin Hohenheim Elric, whose iPod was flicked on, its attached speakers roaring out the "Epiphany":

"Swing your razor wide, Envy!

Steel and silver shine!

Bathe it in the blood

That came from HOHENHEIM……"

At the Hyatt-Regency Orlando Airport hotel, Alphonse hung up the phone, shaking his head sadly. "Ni-isan---Win-Sara says nobody's heard anything from Fritz. He's still looking for Christine in Atlanta, but he's not answering his mail or voicemail."

Edward smirked and shook his head. "Bet he found her. He'd rather chase her tail than look after his kid. Remind me to whip that boy's ass when I see him next. So…what the hell do we do with the kid?

Alphonse turned worried eyes towards Edwin, who was feeding Izumi her bottle under Jeanne-Marie's watchful approval. The kid was smiling down at his tiny cousin who was gurgling contentedly. Maybe there's hope for him. "Brother? Let's take him with us to Ranamuerte, I mean, it would nice to have him at your wedding—and maybe he should see the Portal Stone."

Ed made a noncommittal grunt and grabbed the remote, flopped down on the end of the bed beside Roy and flipped the channel—pausing at Fox News, where Bill O'Reilly was gassing on about curing homosexuals.

"What do you want to watch that crap for," Roy wanted to know.

"Wait—look at that book they're waving around---remember that asshole? That guy running the seminar at Hope Springs last year? That guy making a fortune off persuading poor closet cases that he could cure them of---WHAT THE FUCK????"

Alphonse joined them in time to see the video clip of James Busbee McDonald ranting madly, sweat rolling down his greasy forehead.

. "Mah wife…" McDonald was wailing into the microphone, tugging at his tie. "Oh…GAWD! Mah pore darlin' Beverly! Cain't yew IMAGINE how it must've PAINED that GOOD WOMAN! Knowin' she was lyin' in bed…next to a SODDOMITE! Do you KNOW what was goin' threw MAH mind, brothers? Do yew??"

…and an oddly familiar voice was answering him back:

"Yeah. The 800 number for the Jerry Springer Show. That's the American Idol for trailer trash freaks like you, asshole!"

Alphonse' eyes grew enormous. "Brother?? What the hell were you doing at that seminar??"

The image on the screen froze. "And if that face looks familiar," the odious comentator crowed, "you'll recognise him as alleged 'ghost rape' victim, EDWARD ELRIC…"

"FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!" Edward snatched the cell phone off his hip so fast he tore the side of his pocket. "HUGHES!" he bellowed. "Get your asses back here! And find Teddy and Remy!"

Well, doesn't that just suck ten miles of dick. Ear ringing, Mays snapped his Motorola shut and took a deep swallow of Glenlivet, pissed that he wasn't given time to savor its smoky richness—or to savor the company of his lovely wife, whose aqua eyes sparkled above the rim of her wine spritzer. "Sorry, girlfriend," he sighed. "Ed's got his shorts in a knot over something. Better get back to the room. Teddy and Remy are having dinner, right?"

"They changed their minds and decided to try out the jacuzzi. Want me to go get them?"

Hughes shook his head. "No, just head up to the room. We'll be right behind you. I'd call but I'm betting they've got their phones turned off…"

Nobody else was in the pool area, and once submerged the bubbles and steam provided adequate cover. Skimpy fabric was discreetly rearranged, and Jean Remy Havoc pressed his face into the curve of Teddy's shoulder, biting his lip to keep from groaning in delight—it was so….oh god….so damned good…

"HAVOC! Red alert, man! You and Ted---oh…shit…" Hughes had stopped dead about four feet from the tub's edge. "God…sorry, guys." He glanced away, flushing, as Teddy climbed off her husband's lap and Havoc rearranged his Speedos.

Remy only laughed and shrugged. "C'est la vie. Pardonez, ma petite."

Teddy chuckled, shoving a breast back into the top of her suit. "Somebody better be dying. I love my uncle, but his timing sucks."

At the word sucks Hughes eyes turned back to the pool, just in time to see Jean-Remy climbing out of the water, his brief apparel emphasising rather than concealing the lingering erection that, quite frankly, made Hughes' mouth go suddenly dry. Christ! Last time I saw something slung like that was on a horse breeding farm---and it had four legs. Mustang had been generously endowed—he winced a little at the memory when his former lover had given him a little taste of quid pro quo during the that week he spent with Teddy and Taisa before Teddy's cancer surgery. He'd never been topped before and he still wasn't sure if the aftermath of getting rammed by a well-hung partner was equivalent exchange for the ecstacy of the act itself. Roy was impressive. Havoc was…well…terrifying.

And hot. Damn the man. He had an unconscious, boyish sexiness that was mighty attractive. He undeniably good looking with his tousled blond hair and those sky-blue eyes of his. And that voice—Jesus, it was like having warm velvet stroked against the back of your neck…or lower. And, damn it, he was straight. Open-minded but had never sucked a cock in his life and not particularly curious about it.

Jeeze..first Mustang, now Havoc. Helluva mess, having the same taste in men…

Ed may have had his knickers in a twist, screaming for them to haul ass back to that stuffy little suite where he and Al had kept them barracaded since they landed in Orlando, but he was damn well gonna stop off at the men's room for a quick wank before Ed locked them in again. Better to take the situation in hand now before Gracia got suspicious…

"Okay, so you're back on the radar again. What do you want to do about it?" Mays glanced from Edward to Alphonse. Ed glanced from Roy to Alphonse to Mays. Alphonse glanced from Mays to Ed—and noted with quiet gratification that Roy and Edward had moved closer together on the bed. Closing ranks when things get rough around here, just like they should.

"Huh! You three gonna keep starin' at one another, or are you gonna tell de rest of us what we gonna do?" Jeanne-Marie's thumb flicked at an imaginary flilter tip, and her son could tell by the way she swung her long legs and fidgeted with her hands that she desperately wanted a smoke.

"I don't believe in intuition—" Ed began warily.

"—the hell you don't," Teddy grinned.

"—but I've got a sneaking suspicion that we'd be safer off not taking that flight to Ranamurte tomorrow---now hold on one goddamn minute. I am not calling off our wedding." A meaningful glance at Mustang who nodded slightly. "What I am suggesting is that maybe we need to make alternate travel plans."

"Can't," Mays pointed out pragmatically. "Not that many routes to the island. I mean, you used to be able to fly into Jamaica and go by seaplane, but since Jamaica and Ranamurte have had that idiotic war going on, you can kiss that option goodbye."

Everybody looked sober for a while before Gracia piped up. "Ed, don't you have a wedding planner on Ranamuerte---what's his name?

"Paul Youngblood. The one who used to be the steward for American Airlines, right, Brother?" Alphonse smiled with relief. "He's the one setting everything up for the ceremony, right? Why not call him or see if you can reach him online?"

HOPE SPRINGS RESORT, REPUBLIC OF RANAMUERTE

KerrSHPLAAATT

"HEY! Watch how you swing that thing, mon! You might kill it!"

Paul Youngblood, late of American Airlines and currently serving as Director of Rainbow Weddings of Hope Springs, had at least checked the color of the small, burping amphibian who had bounded off the potted plant in the corner and splatted onto his flat panel monitor before arming himself with a brightly colored souvienir spatula ( item #12985-09, Hope Springs Frog Flipper) and flicking it across the room with disgust.

Paninya dove after it. "White Lipped Green Tree Frog. Litoria infrafrenata. Female. Honey, don't kill de merchindise. She could lay 'bout a million eggs—and that's a lot of Toad-stadas and Tadpole Tapas for the grill." Almost reverently she escorted the critter out of an open window where it sprang nimbly into the branches of a nearby jasmine bush. With her frog cuisine restaurant flourishing and the glitterati flocking to her chain of lucrative frog smoothie bars, Paninya was inclined to view any slimy croaker of low toxicity as money in her pocket.

Paul made a small moue of distaste. "Now my screen is all icky! Really, Paninya darling, I'm going to have to insist on window screens for my office! Last week I found a Dendrobates leucomelas perched in my powder room—and it was the same color as my tiger striped swim thong. If I hadn't shaken out my dainties I might have been the first man to die with a frog stuck up his poopie—and that is not how this girl wants to check out!"

Paninya muttered something under her breath that might have been "silly faggot" but Paul was dilgently wiping his monitor clean of any frog slime, real or imagined, just as the phone at his elbow began ringing again. "Rainbow Weddings of Ranamuerte—Paul Youngblood here---ohhh, MISTER ELRIC!"

"Elric??" Paninya shot him a sour look. "Oh gawd…not Mister Little Mon again! What the fuck does he want this time—he ready to dive in on that hot man o' his an' he need somebody to butter his sawed off little prick for 'im?"

"Tais-toi, sweetheart---no, not you, Mister Edward! One of the staff."

"Staff? He needs a staff, all right, that little troublemaker," Paninya continued sotto vocce. "Big ol' broom handle—and I'll be pleased to do the shovin'…"

"Oh no…dearie, not again! Mymymymymy—so dreadful. Don't you just loathe Fox News? Making such ugly implications about vous. No, I understand completely---"

Paninya brightened. "He not coming?"

Paul slapped his palm over the receiver. "Those evil shits at Fox News have started making hash of dear Edward's reputation again."

"Ha! He's fuckin' ghosts an' jerkin' off in a haunted house---and he's worried about a reputation? Shit, that was de best laugh I had all year!"

"Darling, this is serious! I'm quite fond of Mister Edward and his dear Mister Mustang. They have a lovely family and a lot of them are flying down for the wedding. Only with this latest brouhaha they aren't keen to get on a plane---Edward is so sweet, but he has these dreadful prosthetic limbs and it's always an ugly scene when he goes through airport security. And with this latest flap about that odious-pardon-me-for-speaking-ill-of-the-dead James McDonald Busbee, I can understand why." He turned back to the receiver. "No, my dear—I quite understand. We need to find another way to get you from Key West to Port Norman. Hmmmm…can you hold just a teensy minute?"

If he'd been paying less attention to the beefcake screensaver by Tom of Finland and more attention to his crafty companion, he would have been suspicious when she offered a suggestion. "Labrys Tours. Got a boat goin' out at sunset tomorrow. Crew comin' up for a weddin'. Spread some green around, might be willing to take them on board."

Paul was delighted and began Google-ing frantically before crowing in triumph. "Ahhh! Yes! So they are. The Mary Reade. Captain is Livy Armstrong. You know her?"

"Yeah. She'll do a good job." Good job o' kickin' his scrawny little ass. That woman puts the B in Beeeyoich!. Maybe he winds up with an anchor up his butthole and that tasty Mr Mustang can be the Merry Widower.

",,,,Oh yes, by all means, put Mr Hughes on! We'll get everything straighted out, not to fret, darling…."

Geeze—don't they know anything about adventures? Rule number one: never split the party.

The Hughes family was heading back to Charleston to keep an eye on the Battery Carriage House and wait for word from Fritz. Alphonse made a great effort to put on his brave face when in face he was genuinely worried about his grandson. Neigher Win-Sarah or Alfons had heard a word since the family had left message after message for him not to return to Teddy's house on I'on Avenue until the Redcoats declared 'all clear'. A couple of phone calls to Vito Falman had resulted in the Hughes family settling in a charming cottage in Mount Pleasant that was close enough for Mayland to check up on the house every day. Vito promised to keep in daily touch with the family and had let Breda know that the family had gotten sick of being harassed and was on vacation in the islands. Hughes would keep his ear to the ground of any unexplained murders or disappearances in the Charleston area, and while he deeply regretting missing Ed and Taisa's nuptuals, his first and greatest concern was for Gracia and his daughters. He had pleaded with Teddy to let them keep Izumi with them but neither she nor Havoc could be persuaded to let their daughter go. "Besides, if 'Zumi is with us, then Ai-san is with us---and Daddy's never going to admit this but he'd be really lonely without her. You know he's decided she's part of the Eggregore, right? He thinks she's somebody named Mei-Chan, an alchemist he knew back home. No telling if he's right—but I don't see the harm in humoring him."

Edwin had taken Teddy to one side and mentioned the hazards of splitting up. To his surprise, she had taken him seriously. "Okay, go talk to Mays and Gracia. I'm not worried but if it's got you concerned just sit them down and tell 'em."

"Aw, they'll think I'm just a paranoid kid," he balked.

She laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not. I think you 've got a point myself, but I also know that we've got friends to watch their backs now. That's how I can let them go."

"I notice you're not sending 'Zoo with them," he pointed out.

"My Cajun would lay down his life to protect her—to protect all of us. Jeanne-Marie's a damn good shot. Ai-san is a very smart lady who won't take risks. And she's got you. I trust you to keep her safe, Edwin."

The boy swallowed hard and felt his eyes sting. Every since Envy and Gluttony had snagged the little mp3 recorder with all the revealing information about the Elric family—information they would have never gotten hold of it it hadn't been for his own paranoia—he'd felt lower than whaleshit at the bottom of Charleston Harbor. HE was the one who put them all in danger. HE was the one to blame if anything happened to his dad, Fritz. They were on the run now and it was all his fault. And Aunt Teddy somehow had enough faith in him to trust him to watch and protect her only child. That sleeping part of his psyche—the part that had once been Van Hohenheim of Light—that part that knew her, remembered her as his precious wife and mother of his children—that part stirred and gave him an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach and made him all the more determined not to let his family down again.

From thirteen to nine---Edward, Roy, Alphonse, Teddy and Remy, Ai, Jeanne-Marie, Edwin and baby Izumi. It was easier to cram into a rent-a-van and drive all night to reach Key West in time to board The Mary Reade. Alphonse had spent a lot of that time on his cell phone in the back of the van. "Coconut telegraph," he smiled cryptically. "I know a lot of locals down there. Trying to get some information about our ship and the captain."

Ed leaned over the back seat and handed his brother a coffee refill from the carafe he kept topping off every time they spotted a Starbuck's. "So? Come up with anything?"

"Errr…not really." Al looked hastily out the window. Actually, he'd heard quite a bit, none of which was likely to please his brother. Labrys was a tour company owned by women, for women. Exclusively. Livy Armstrong had crewed on several America's Cup teams in the Eighties. She'd also been arrested for shooting a man in the gonads in Belize, had broken another man's jaw in Trinidad and was accused of somehow yanking up the zipper of a Marine's sea bag—and catching the full length of the man's foreskin in its teeth just before she flung the bag overboard. She'd been active in the women's rights movement in Seventies, and when Teddy heard her name she grinned and nodded. "Interviewed her a couple of years ago. She wrote a terrific book on women pirates—really knows her shit. Not real chatty, but brilliant, and the book went on to earn her a packet. Look forward to seeing her again, not that she'll remember me."

Turns out she did, and to Taisa's reckoning it was a good thing it was without malice; Captain Armstrong was…rather imposing. Six feet six if she was an inch, stunningly blonde and if she had been cosplaying as a Valkyrie she'd have to weld a pair of VW classic hubcaps together to provide adequate coverage for her upper torso. Hughed would have fallen to his knees in a puddle of drool and lit incense in homage, Gracia be damned. He was facinated. Ed looked queasy. Teddy looked slightly intimidated as did Ai. But the three heterosexual men in their group were sporting glazed expressions and looked as if their trousers no longer fit them comfortably—especially Alphonse, who had something of a weakness for tall, aggressive blonde women, as evidenced by his choice of wife. As for the kid, Edwin was flushed and sweating. Taisa later told his lover that Edwin reminded him of nothing so much as the Coyote in a Road Runner cartoon—"Jesus, Ed—even if the kid did get her alone, he wouldn't know what the hell to do with her!"

As head of the family, Edward strode forward and offered both his hand and his copies of their reservations. Armstrong ignored them both. One blonde brow crept up above a glacial blue eye as she studied the women in their group. She nodded brusquely to Ai. She stared at Teddy for a long moment before one corner of her mouth lifted a fraction. "You. The book review for Ms. magazine. It didn't suck."

Then she turned her attention to Jeanne-Marie Havoc.

Spanned the distance between them in three strides and knocked Remy's mother flat on her ass with one hefty slap.

"That's for standing me up, Jeanne. Welcome aboard."

………………..TO BE CONTINUED…..