The Game Chapter 13: Strange VibesThere was nothing that gave Seneca a sense of ‘home’ more than working with Kennedy on Sundays. This Sunday they were washing a particularly wiley, newly acquired greyhound named Freya.
“Seneca, hand me that wire brush, would you?” Kennedy said, her old red and grey flannel shirt soaked from trying to hold the skittish dog down in the tub. Freya had other ideas about where she wanted to be, and most of those ideas did not seem to include this particular vessel of soap and water.
Seneca turned and pulled the wire brush from the wall, handing it to Kennedy, then moved without her asking to hold the dog while Kennedy brushed the burrs and muck from the dog’s short coat. She watched her foster mother work, her dark brown hair streaked with grey, pulled back into a tight braided bun behind her head. She was a little overweight but not unhealthily so, thicker in the midsection from age and a job where she sat most of the day. Her face did not look kind, not with her sharp nose and narrow eyes, but Seneca knew from experience how much love and compassion Kennedy had. Kennedy’s hands were strong and calloused from years of hard work and caring for others. Seneca loved this woman from the bottom of her heart.
“You know,” Kennedy said, meeting her eyes, “you can always come to me, right? When you have stuff going on, or just to talk. I feel like you’ve grown a bit distant lately…”
Seneca narrowed her eyes as she hugged Freya’s neck, scratching her behind her ear. “Have you been talking to Liv?” she asked suspiciously.
“You know your best friend calls me at least once a week. But, no, the other day Chip called me,” Kennedy said, grunting with effort as she raked the brush over some deep burrs on the dog’s flank.
“Chip! He called you?” she squeaked, instantly angry. “When? How’d he get your number?!”
“Yes, he called me. A few times in the last week, actually. I think he tricked it out of Liv. I already made her feel bad about it. She apologized and asked me never to tell you, so you didn’t hear it from me.
“So, Chip calls me, right? He tells me you two were getting married! Imagine my surprise that my own daughter was getting married and she didn’t even tell me. It broke my heart, it did,” Kennedy teased gruffly, struggling with deeply seated burrs.
“No, no, no!” Seneca defended. “He decided that all on his own, Kennedy! I didn’t say yes! I…it was time. I broke it off with him, I did, I swear! I couldn’t marry him, Kennedy! He’s…god he’s so…I can’t breathe with him. He got way too serious!” She hugged her face to the wet, upset dog. Freya trembled under her hands and she felt an instant kindred with the large, wet canine.
Kennedy chuckled, placing the wire brush on a bench behind her. She pumped some of the dog shampoo into her hands and then lathered it soothingly over Freya’s flank. “I know, I know. He’s just a Norm anyway. But…I sorta liked him. He was nice. Dumb, but nice. But, god, he’s dumb. How did you stay with him so long, Seneca?” Kennedy asked, rubbing the suds into the dog’s grey speckled fur.
“Honestly?” Seneca asked her. Kennedy nodded at her and she continued. “He tasted good and, ah…he has really nice abs…” Her face burned with blush.
Kennedy laughed, full and rich, scaring Freya. Seneca hugged Freya tighter to her chest. How could people abuse animals like this? Poor Freya and her brother Freki had been found chained to big trees behind an abandoned grocery store, without food or water. When they were rescued, they had been half starved and mostly dehydrated. They both had numerous injuries, the worst of which was the chains from their restraints having cut deeply into their ruffs. She was careful not to touch the inflamed, scabby wounds as she clutched the dog soothingly. Seneca looked into Freya’s big, scared eyes. She wondered if this was how she looked when Kennedy had rescued her.
Kennedy was still laughing a little, catching her breath. “His abs! Oh, that is rich. It makes perfect sense,” she said, attempting to wipe tears from her face with her wet sleeve. “Anyway,” she continued as she stood up, reaching for the shower hose. She turned it on and warm water gently rained down from it onto the dog. “It’s for the best, but that boy, he is still sweet on you. And…be careful of him, Seneca. Something isn’t right with him. He’s…I don’t know what, but who calls their ex-girlfriend’s parent to get his ex back? He…well, be careful of him is all I’m saying. He’s dumb but dedicated.”
She moved the gentle stream of water over the dog, kicking the release on the bottom of the tub to drain the excess water. Freya scrambled, her claws digging but not gaining purchase, as the water drained. Seneca struggled to hold her still.
“He’s been following me. Waiting for me in the lobby at work,” she grunted, admitting as the dog half pushed her down in her attempts to climb from the offensive tub. “Freya, calm down!” she said firmly, speaking to the dog how Godwin would speak to her when they were playing, firmly, but with compassion.
Both Kennedy and the dog looked at her in surprise. Her foster mother shook her head, then turned off the hose and picked up an oversized towel. She wrapped the dog in the towel, scrubbing the water from her body.
“You can let her go, Sen,” Kennedy directed. She did, and Kennedy picked the shivering dog up and placed her on the tile. Freya fled and Seneca moved to chase after her. “No, let her go. She’s going back to Freki is all. They are all they have, those two. Gonna be a lot of work getting those two comfortable around people again. Shame, they are both such sweet souls.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment as they looked in the direction the scared greyhound had fled. Kennedy handed her a dry towel. “Ready for Freki?”
Seneca nodded, and she and Kennedy walked into the adjoining room. Kennedy moved to get the other dog from his kennel and he growled, Freya dancing nervously on the outside of the cage. He was bigger than his sister, wider in the chest and hips. His aggression didn’t seem to bother Kennedy, who just unlocked the kennel and backed away. Freya rushed in and pushed Freki out. She licked his muzzle and he looked at her in a very human way before he returned his glare to Kennedy.
“Come on, baby,” she cooed to him, coaxing him from the kennel. “See how much better your sister feels? Come along, we will get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better, baby,” she spoke softly, watching him carefully.
He continued to growl in the back of his throat, a low, menacing sound, his tail between his legs. Freya danced around him, rubbing her muzzle against his flank. His hackles rose and Seneca knew they wouldn’t be washing him just yet.
Kennedy confirmed this with a sigh. “Let’s let him get calm before we try. I don’t want him biting you. Not sure what a vampire’s blood might do to a scared dog.” She turned to Seneca slowly without turning her back to Freki. “Why don’t we wash up and have some tea while he gets his bearings?”
Ten minutes later they were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying cups of black tea from teabags. Kennedy didn’t appreciate loose leaf tea in the same way that Seneca did, she stuck to the traditional tea bags from the grocery store. The cups steamed comfortingly, but were too hot to drink just yet.
“So…Chip aside, Liv tells me you might have a new dark horse in the running…” Kennedy said slyly, smiling with half her mouth.
“She is such a big-mouth!” Seneca complained. She bit the inside of her lip, debating on what to tell Kennedy about Godwin.
Kennedy chuckled. “She loves you, Sen, so of course she tells me. So…I take it that she’s right? You’ve found a new partner?”
Her stomach twisted at her foster mother’s choice of words. Partner. Had Kennedy always been so…perceptive? “Ah, yeah, I have…maybe…” she replied slowly, hesitating.
Kennedy leaned back, relaxing in her chair, calmness and patience radiating from her. The ability to be so calm and collected was one of Kennedy’s gifts, and was why she was so good at rescuing animals. “Does he have a name?” she asked, picking up her tea and blowing across the top of the steaming cup.
“Godwin,” she admitted coyly.
“Just Godwin?” Kennedy asked carefully. “No last name?”
Seneca blushed. “He has a last name. I, we just aren’t that…we haven’t been together that long that I was going to tell you about him yet, I’m sorry, Kennedy. I wasn’t trying to keep secrets or anything, I swear!”
Kennedy smiled carefully. “Seneca, I’m not upset. I was just wondering. You seem to be really interested in this one, this Godwin No-last-name,” she said, sipping carefully at her too hot tea.
Seneca picked up her cup to have something to do with her hands. The warmth reminded her of Godwin and her fingers immediately moved to trail across his collar around her neck. “I guess I am…” she admitted carefully.
“That from him? That necklace?” Kennedy asked, perceptive as ever.
Seneca blushed harder, forcing her hand back to her mug. “Ah, yeah,” she confessed.
“It’s beautiful. Looks like real silver. He must be very enamored, to have given you something so nice. It looks handcrafted,” Kennedy noticed.
“I don’t know about that…” Seneca trailed off. In the times between their play she didn’t see Godwin at all. She wondered, during those long, lonely times, if he truly liked her, or if she was just a good way to kill time while also getting a good meal. She was terrified to ask him, worried that her clinginess would end their relationship. It made her stomach sour.
“Oh, Seneca, you love him, don’t you?” Kennedy asked, leaning forward with compassion in her eyes.
Seneca sighed heavily. “I do,” she admitted, though she only just realized it was true when Kennedy said it. Kennedy had that way to her, knowing what she was feeling, able to suss out the truth of any situation. “But…our relationship…I think it’s just physical.”
Kennedy smirked at her. “Your necklace suggests otherwise. That doesn’t look like a piece of costume jewelry given to a sex friend. Tell me his whole name, I might know him. Is he another Wren?”
Seneca pursed her lips, afraid of where this conversation was going. “He’s not a Wren,” she said, not lying, but not telling the full truth.
“What’s his name, Sen?” Kennedy inquired again.
Seneca shifted in her seat, putting the cup back on the table, her tea untouched. “Godwin SynLilin,” she muttered, praying that Kennedy didn’t know anything about demons.
“SynLilin?” Kennedy said, tasting the word. “That’s a strange name. Seems familiar somehow…” She sipped her tea again, then looked into the cup, noticing it was empty. “Well, either way, I wish you well with your Godwin SynLilin, but you need to find out his feelings for you before you get in too deeply. Ready to check on Freki?” she asked, changing the subject before Seneca could get too uncomfortable.
“Sure,” she agreed, relieved to be leaving the topic of Godwin. Her heart both gushed and dropped when she thought about him. Her hand returned to her collar and she traced the words around her neck.
My master serves me as I serve my master. She felt the engraved words under her fingers, remembering Godwin’s translation of the script that flowed like water around the delicate silver. The collar felt warm to the touch, a constant yet pleasant reminder of Godwin. She wondered idly what the words actually meant, and if they were Godwin’s sentiments or just something on a piece of jewelry he had given her as part of the game. The collar didn’t feel like something Godwin would give lightly, but outside of their game, she didn’t really know much at all about the incubus.
Her foster mother watched her for another moment before she moved to put her cup on the counter next to the sink. “Oh, and Seneca, I mean it. Watch out for Chip. He makes me nervous, like a rabid animal.”
Dreadfully Erotic 