Littermates

Littermates, 37/?
by Fannie Feazell

A week later, 1966--Being Judged

Nareesha had been right in her estimation of the other sisters' reactions to Clyde's proposal. Acacia had asked, "So we'd be, like, actively encouraged to eat the bad guys--and by that I mean, like, rapists, muggers, pimps. Not just assholes. If that was so the entire world would be our smorgasbord." Clyde assured her that yes, vampires 'culled the herd' in their own manner. Some clans weren't so picky about who they fed off, taking the innocent with the evil, but most of them refrained from wanton killing of innocents. That tended to garner more attention than any of them wanted. Acacia's reaction had been, "Cool. I'm in."

Kitten's one question had been if she'd be able to do the spider walk, like Clyde. Clyde honestly told her that there was a chance, but probably not. She decided that if her sisters were going to do it, she darn sure wasn't going to be left behind.

It had taken Milda a couple of days to make up her mind. The other patients and staff noticed that 'Kathleen Bahst' was unusually quiet and introspective. Since Clyde had brought her out to live in the general population she'd always interacted with the others, but for the first time since then she'd become distant. Her eyes were often a little unfocused, as if she were looking at something no on else could see.

Finally she'd asked to speak to Clyde alone. She'd quietly asked him if he believed in an afterlife. "Not the sort that you and your kind have, but..." she gestured.

"Do I believe in a happy eternity in Heaven? No. Do I believe in an infernal eternity in Hell? I find that much more likely. Do I believe that some souls come back in a different form? I believe in that most of all. But Milda, my dear--I don't think there's one hard and fast reality for everyone. You're asking because of Colin, aren't you?" She nodded, looking down. "You think that if you accept the Embrace you might be denying the chance to ever be with him again, wherever he's gone." She nodded again. "I can't tell you one way or the other, little girl. This is a decision that's so personal that I'm not going to advice you on it. Personally, I'd love to make you girls my children by blood, but this isn't about me. Think about it a little more, and let me know."

The other girls hadn't pressured Milda, and that might have been the ultimate deciding factor. They wanted Milda to be happy. They all knew without discussing it that if one was Embraced, all were Embraced. If one refused, then all remained as they were. Acacia, Nareesha, and Kitten wanted this badly, but they were willing to remain as they were for Milda's sake, even if it meant staying in the asylum for the rest of their lives.

The day had come, and Clyde watched as Nareesha primped in front of the mirror. She sighed, studying the barely there powder, rouge, and lipstick. "So much trouble in order to look like I'm not wearing any makeup at all. Are you sure that I can't have just a LITTLE eyeshadow?" She made a face at her own reflection. "I feel positively naked without eyeliner and shadow."

"No, my dove," said Clyde. "We are about to do a balancing act worthy of the Flying Walendas. You must wear enough make up to show that you care enough about what other's think to want to present an attractive appearance, but not enough to make you resemble the Whore of Babylon in their eyes."

She tried to glance at him in the reflection of the mirror, and grimaced when she was confronted with a view of an empty room behind her. She turned her head to look at him and said, "They must have very low standards for whorish appearances."

Acacia, leaning against the wall near her, snorted. "Maybe bare arms and cropped hair?"

Clyde watched Nareesha tilting her head toward the area where she'd previously indicated Acacia was lounging. Acacia had agreed readily enough to letting Nareesha appear before the panel. She was well aware that Nareesha was the most socially adept of the sisters. Acacia was born to protect, Nareesha was born to manipulate, and Milda had been born simply to live.

Clyde often wished that he could hear the conversations between the sisters--he imagined that they were a hoot--but he'd readily accepted that talking with the Bahste sisters was like listening to one end of a phone call on a party line. If you paid attention, you could pretty well make out what was going on. He raised a shoulder. "These men are rich, complacent conservatives. While they might be secretly tittilated by painted hussies, they have to at least pretend disapproval in front of their peers."

"I can see your point." She looked back at her reflection and used a square of tissue to blot her lips. "But I'm going to use a trowel when I get out of here."

"It might be a good idea--for the first few months after you leave, anyway." He smiled. "Until you learn how to deal with those 'why do you look so pale?' questions, you can just slap on the Max Factor. People won't suspect you of being dead--just dead common."

"Mm. Tell me how you managed to get them to schedule this thing in the evening so you could attend."

"As much as I'd like to claim credit, I can't. It was good ol' Costly. He wants to keep an eye on things, so he's going to be there in order to try to spin the proceedings in your favor."

Nareesha snorted. "If I believed for a minute that he was actually doing it because he thought it was in my best interestes, I'd feel kindly toward him. As it is my estimation of him as a total prick rises exponentially."

"'Exponentially', and she knows what it means. I love you."

She made a kissing motion at him. "If it was anyone else I'd say it was only lust, darling. And you say that you've amended your opinion of our chances for release?"

"Now that Costas is going to personally be throwing his weight behind it--there's a chance. Yes, a good chance. Be ready for it. If they declare you fit to re-enter society don't say something like 'ew, why would I want to?' or 'about fucking time'. Act grateful, and try not to look like you're sucking a rotten lemon."

"We're just lucky that I'm a good actress, and I talked Acacia out of doing it."

"Good thing, too. I think if Acacia tried to deal with those assholes you'd all be in here till I figured out a way to beget children upon Joel."

Nareesha took a step back and spread her arms, turning slowly. "Well, how do I look--aside from deadly dull."

"Immenently sane. I know that the A-line skirt and button up blouse must be itching you like a burlap sack. Just keep telling yourself it's for a good cause, and it won't be long. Are you ready?"

"Darling, I've spent my entire life convincing people that there was nothing special," her voice was a purr, "or threatening about me. This is just another bit of acting." She schooled her expression into a slightly anxious, eager-to-please expression. Clyde cracked up. Nareesha smiled, but said severely, "You're going to have to keep a straight face, Clyde, or this will never work."

"I know, I know." Clyde put on a sober expression. "Come along, young woman."

She looked down at the floor meekly. "Yes, sir." He cracked up again. "Clyde, if you can't control yourself you'll be of no use at all..."

~*~

The panel consisted of five men. Clyde explained that some idiot farther up the administrative food chain had declared that there should be an odd number in order to prevent tied votes for release or recommittment. "That's what they say but it makes fuck all sense," Clyde had said, "Since they won't release without a unanimous vote."

The panel consisted of two psychiatrists, a psychologist, and a neurological specialist. A week before this scheduled examination Clyde had provided them with every scrap of Kathleen Bahst's records--including the notes of the fictional therapy sessions. Considering some of the dumb ass questions previous panelists had asked the petitioning patients, Clyde had hearty doubts that they actually bothered to read the material provided. He thought they at best skimmed, picking out a point that interested them here and there, and basing their decisions on that and how the patient acquitted themselves during the interview. Clyde had noted that sarcasm might be perfectly acceptable in the outside world, but patients that exhibited it usually found themselves returning to their rooms to wait out another six months before they had another chance.

They arrived at the small meeting room, and Clyde bowed her down to a bench along the hall wall. "They've got one other coming up for review. She should be here any moment now. You've met her--Rita Repeater, my guardian dragon?"

Nareesha smiled. "Oh, I like Rita. I don't think she'll have much of a chance, though."

"Oh, of course not. She knows it, too, and she's planning on putting on a bit of a show." He giggled. "You're going to seem VERY sane after her. Now, I shall check and see if they're ready for you, but expect a small wait even if they ARE ready. It wouldn't do to make you think that you were important enough to rate prompt and courteous service." He winked at her before going in.

Clyde had just disappeared when Rita appeared at the end of the hall. Everything about Rita bounced--blonde curls, quick, small feet, and plump breasts. She grinned, waving at Nareesha. "Hello hello hello hello, Three in, Three in One One One."

Nareesha laughed. "Hello, Rita. Kitten says thank you for that peanut brittle you sent her. It stuck her teeth together for twenty minutes, and as soon as she got them loose she ate some more."

Rita dropped down to sit beside her on the bench. "Cute cute kittykittykittykittykitty."

"Yes, she is." Nareesha cocked an eye at the other woman, then leaned toward her and whispered, "Rita, you wench--are you without a bra?" Rita giggled, grabbing her own breasts and giving them a bounce to demonstrate that they were, indeed, unfettered. "Oh, you naughty girl. I'm afraid that the doctors are going to think you're not quite right." Rita giggled again. Nareesha leaned over and kissed Rita on the cheek. As she did she heard the door open, and from the corner of her eye she could see a strange man in a suit (he looked too self-important to be anything but a doctor). Rita saw him, too. She grabbed the back of Nareesha's head and laid a hard kiss on her. Then she pulled back and gave Nareesha's nose a tiny lick.

The man's expression was frozen. He stepped just back into the room and said, "Are you sure that both of these are ready to be evaluated?"

Rita winked at Nareesha showing the tip of her tongue between her teeth. There was a reason why Rita had poisoned her husbands--she hadn't really liked them. She'd always liked women better, but you couldn't marry and inherit from a woman. She hopped up and said, "Me me me me me first!" and she bustled past the man, making sure to brush him firmly with her chest. The man, goggle-eyed, followed her in and shut the door. Nareesha stuffed a fist against her mouth to muffle the giggles and slumped against the wall. *I'm going to look like the sanest person on the face of the earth after Rita.*

~*~

It didn't last very long. There was a clock on the wall, and it was just shy of fifteen minutes when Louise, the night nurse came into the hall. She waved at Nareesha. "Hey, baby girl."

"Hello, Louise. What are you doing away from your territory?"

Louise shook her head. "Rita must be acting like her screws are so loose her head is about to drop off. One of those visiting nabobs called to have someone escort her back to 'a secure area'. He said it like he was saying, 'Bring a double straight jacket.' What on earth did that girl do? She hasn't been violent the entire time she's been here."

Nareesha smiled. "From her demeanor when she went in, she probably flashed them, propositioned them, or both."

The door opened and another man, this one with disheveled bright red hair, held the door open. "Your escort is here, ma'am."

Rita appeared, leaned against him, and did a full body squirm, reaching up to run her hands through his hair, crooning, "Pretty penny red red red. Come to bed?"

*Well, that explains why his hair is messed up,* thought Nareesha. She made her expression shocked.

The man set Rita aside firmly, guiding her over to Louise. "Don't just stand there, Nurse. Take hold of her. Her libido is in overdrive. Take her back to her room and give her a sedative."

"Yes, doctor," said Louise placidly, beginning to lead Rita away.

*Like that's going to happen,* thought Nareesha. The staff wasn't about to dose a patient with anything prescribed by a strange doctor unless Clyde okayed it. The man looked toward her, and Nareesha made her eyes very large, and bit her lip, as if to stop it trembling. It worked. He immediately felt important, and determined to be magnanimous and protective toward this pretty, vulnerable woman. Nareesha wondered how familiar he was with the incident that had brought her to this place.

The man gave her an only slightly uncomfortable smile. "You're Kathleen Bahst."

*Wrong right off the bat.* "Y-yes, sir."

"I'm Doctor Erlicht. I'm one of the men who are going to decide whether or not you're ready to live outside again. Now," he leaned down toward her, "You DO understand that if we decide that you're not ready that it isn't meant as a punishment?"

"Yes, sir." She made her tone a little firmer. "I don't WANT to go out unless I'm ready. It's... it's scary out there." *Oh, it's a good thing I don't believe in God, or He'd strike me down for such a lie.*

She was ushered into the room. They certainly weren't going out of their way to make the patients being evaluated overly comfortable. The other four men of the panel were all seated on one side of a long table, with stacks of folders and papers in front of them. There were a couple of arm chairs off to one side, and they were occupied by Dr. Clyde and Costas. Costas was regarding her narrowly, as if daring her to screw up. Clyde didn't smile, but he gave her an almost undetectable wink of encouragement. Nareesha's appreciation of Clyde's control rose. She would have expected to find him rolling on the floor after Rita's performance.

There was a single straighbacked chair before the table, and Dr. Erlicht guided her to it, then went to take his place at the table. The men were talking together quietly and pretending not to look at her. She resisted the urge to cross her legs and show a little knee. Instead she made her posture as correct as possible and folded her hands in her lap, making sure that she clenched them enough to whiten the knuckles.

When they'd judged that she'd been kept waiting long enough to be impressed by their power over her, the man in the middle (his name tag said POTTER) said, "Miss Bahste, good evening."

"Good evening," she said faintly.

"Do you know why you're here?"

*To fool your foolish asses.* "Yes, sir. You're going to see if I'm well enough to live on my own again."

"Not necessarily on your own," Potter corrected her. "We may decide that you're ready to live with an appointed guardian, or perhaps in a half-way house."

*I hardly think Costas or Clyde would allow that.* "Yes, sir." *I'm going to strangle on a 'sir' before I get out of here.*

"Now, Miss Bahst--when you were brought here you were unresponsive, and after your made contact with what was going on again, you had amnesia. Is that correct?"

"Is... I don't know if it was correct." She looked confused. "I always TRY to do what's correct, but... Oh," she acted as if she'd suddenly remembered something. "Oh, you meant... Yes. Yes. I couldn't remember ANYTHING except... except that something very bad happened. Dr. Clyde told me someone... some people died. My mother and father..." Using those words made her feel nauseous, but she knew it would give a favorable impression. "And some strange man." She bit her lip and made her voice small. "Did I kill them?"

Several of the men cleared their throats, and Potter said, "No one is sure, Kathleen. There was never an official conclusion. The police have it listed as murder by person or persons unknown. But you WERE considered the likely suspect."

"Oh." She let tears well up in her eyes. "I can't believe I'd do something like that. Why would I?"

"That's what we'd like to find out." He leafed through some papers. "The notes of your sessions with Dr. Whyman indicate that you've only recovered limited flashes of the few days before you came to us." He leaned forward. "Tell us what you remember."

With many a pause and hesitation, Nareesha wove an image of confusion, pain, and guilt. She spoke of things that she couldn't be sure were memories or nightmares--flashes of blood and horror. The sight of a man's face bathed in blood. A jolting sensation that ran up her arms again and again, accompanied by a horrid, meaty crunching sound. Screams. And a sense of rage so overpowering that it was like being hit and sucked under by a tidal wave, washed away. Before she finished the psychologist (Dr. Lords) got up to bring her some tissues. She thanked him with a tremulous smile, and he went back to his chair feeling like a gallant knight caring for a fair lady.

She knew she had it after that. The others' questions were almost gentle. She was certain that things were going her way when she saw the glee that Costas couldn't conceal. They didn't tell her, of course. No, they had to make a show of discussing and debating, so she was thanked for her time, encouraged to keep her spirits up, and sent back to her room. Nareesha took it as another indication when they didn't call for someone to escort her.

Back in their room Kitten played Candyland with Joel, teasing him whenever she managed to send him back a few spaces. He teased in return, poking out his tongue at her and threatening to drop her in the Molasses Swamp. Milda sat cross-legged beside them. Kitten had generously invited her to spin for her, so that she'd be part of the game. Nareesha lounged on the bed, filing her nails with an emery board and bemoaning the fact that she wasn't allowed a 'proper' nail file. Acacia, as usualy, couldn't keep still, and paced the room.

Clyde came in, whistling jauntily, and dropped down to sit beside the two on the floor. "Oo, look! You're going to land on the peppermint. Where are the other girls, Kitten?"

"You 'most sat on Milda," said Kitten. "Reesha's on the bed, an' Casey 'most bumped into you."

"Good, you're all here. I have good news for you. The evaluation panel, in their infinite wisdom, has declared you..." he chuckled. "Well, they don't use words like 'cured' or 'sane' because someone might call them on it. You've been evaluated as capable of dealing with the world at large, and not a threat to yourself or anyone else."
Kitten squealed, hopping up to begin dancing around. "Now, calm down little girl. There's a string attached to this."

Acacia spoke next, voice acidic. "I knew it. What do we have to do--give up our first born child? Ain't gonna happen. The doctors said no kiddos for us a long time ago."

"Calm, Casey--calm. This doesn't have to be a bad thing. They stipulated that in order to be released you had to be placed in the custody of a guardian for the first year. After that if you passed another evaluation you'd be on your own. The problem is that Costas volunteered to be guardian."

"Oh, FUCK no!" snarled Acacia.

"I said keep your blood pressure in line. There's no way he'd be allowed--it would be considered a conflict of interest." He spread his hand on his chest. "As he who knows you best, I have been designated to choose your keeper. Got any ideas?"

Acacia scowled, sitting on the bed. "Crap. It's not like we knew anyone who'd be even tolerable, much less suitable." She grinned ferociously. "I killed off anyone who might have qualified."

"Nana."

Acacia looked around at the quiet word. She still wasn't quite used to Milda speaking, and any word was cherished. "What's that, sweetie?"

"Nana," Milda repeated.

Milda had taken control, and Clyde had heard that. "Nana. She's one of the few good things you've mentioned in your life. What's her real name?"

"Anna Collins. We were living with her when... when this happened. In San Francisco."

"Mm, that just might work," said Clyde. "It's near enough to the hospital for me to at least pretend to keep an eye on things. And she's a good age--well established, but not too old. She owns her home, so you'd have your own room. She has an income, but doesn't have to work, so she could be at home most of the time..."

"Clyde, sweetie," said Nareesha. "Are you forgetting that Nana's income comes from government disability payments because she's considered crackers?" She held up her finger and thumb an inch apart. "Wouldn't that affect thing just a wee bit?"

Clyde chuckled, waving away the objection. "Oh, that can be dealt with. They're only going to see what I want to show them, and I'll just lose any reference to the question of her mental state." He cocked his head. "I'm the one who's going to do the 'interview', and Costas has been strongly adivised to accept my recommendation. Don't worry. I'll make her out to be a near simple minded, harmless old lady. I... uh... won't mention her unconventional use of crotchet hooks..."

~*~

It had been almost two years since Milda had made that well intentioned, ill advised trip to try to mend bridges with her stepfather. For the first few months of the girls' committment Nana had tried to get information. She'd tried wheedling, and bribery. But the wheedling would have worked better if she were younger and prettier, and she didn't have much money to offer in bribes. After the second low-level office worker took her money and returned nothing but dry medical reports, and told her she'd need to pony up a lot more cash if she actually wanted to get a message through, Nana had stopped trying. She knew how far she'd get. She wasn't as ignorant as the woman had thought--she'd read the medical reports and realized that the girls were in a catatonic state. The woman wouldn't have been able to deliver a message, even if she'd intended to.

Nana resisted the urge to throttle the complacent woman, fuming at the way she so obviously thought that Nana couldn't strike back in any way. She had no way of knowing that the body hidden by the loose, shapeless dress was strong and wirey. She SHOULD have looked at the lean, sinewy hands, though.

Nana waited, and prayed to a God that she believed less in every day. If the girls could ever find release, they would come to her. She was sure of it. Every day was much the same. She went out less and less, having her groceries delivered instead of shopping for them. She had the telephone turned off, since there was no one else in the world she wished to speak to. Then she had it reconnected, thinking that perhaps the girls would get well enough to be allowed phone privileges. She didn't try to bar the social worker when she came for her infrequent visits, and she presented a facade of being just competent enough to be left alone. She kept going--but she could feel herself winding down. There wasn't much to live for, and she was beginning to wonder why she bothered.

Then the man came--the man with the long hair, handsome face, and wildly gleeful glint in his eyes. A long car with dark tinted windows pulled up in front of her house just as the sun was touching the Western horizon. Nana stood at the front window, peering out, feeling a rare stir of curiosity. Such a luxurious car had no place in her neighborhood. No one ever came to see her but the drones who looked after her for the government, and none of them would ever have been able to afford such a vehicle unless they'd won the Irish Sweepstakes.

The sun sank till it was no more than a golden glow reddening the clouds, and the backseat door opened. A tall, loose limbed man got out and looked around, then considered Nana's creaking, gingerbread trimmed house with obvious approval. He came up the walk with a smooth gait, almost flowing. Before he could knock on the door she'd opened it on the chain, peeking out at him. "I don't know you."

He smiled, ignoring her deliberate rudeness. "Ah, but I know you, Miss Collins. Or may I call you Nana?"

"I said it before, I'll say it again. I don't know you, and I don't talk to people I don't know."

"Oh, but you weren't always like that, were you? You used to take in strays, didn't you?"

Nana thought of her lost adopted family--Acacia, Nareesha, Kitten, Colin, and most especially Milda. She felt a lump rise in her throat. "Strays run away."

The man made a sound of sympathy. "Not if they're well loved--but sometimes they're taken away, aren't they?"

Nana's eyes narrowed. As far as she knew, no one in an official position had ever been aware of her relationship with the girls. "Who are you?"

"Forgive my rudeness, dear lady." He bowed. "Dr. Clyde Whyman. I am the physician in charge of the treatment of Kathleen Bahste." His smiled widened. "And by extension Acacia, Nareesha, Kitten... and Milda."

Nana slammed the door, but Clyde could hear the chink and slide of a chain being shifted. She threw the door open and stepped aside. Clyde didn't move. "Well?"

He shrugged. "You're going to have to extend a formal, personal invitation."

"Why?"

"That's one of the things we're going to discuss."

Nana straightened herself, then said, as calmly and graciously as a Duchess opening a tea party, "Please do come in." Her anxiety shone though as Clyde stepped inside, "Oh, and tell me about my girls..."