Chapter 175: Call to Camille

I need to call Camille. – Text from Priscilla to Celt

Priscilla had been under strict restrictions about who she could talk to and how much she could say. Which, she had to admit, did make a lot of sense. After all, her family did kidnap a man.

Drugged him.

Stripped him naked.

Hung him from a chained hook on the ceiling.

Tortured him.

Shaved his body.

Pulled out his teeth.

Cut out his tongue.

Gave him over 350 small cuts all over his body.

Her sister pinned his cock to his thigh with a stiletto knife.

She also broke his leg.

Dom raped him. Gleefully raped him.

Performed a Blood Eagle on him.

All the blood was drained out of his body.

Chopped him up.

Smashed the larger bones.

Fed his body to pigs.

What could not be fed to the pigs, was burned, ground up into a powder, and mixed into Nessie’s compost barrel for her greenhouse garden.

Meanwhile, someone took his bike across the border, went on a tour of eastern Canada before pissing off the cops and ending up dead at the base of a waterfall.

Priscilla filed a domestic violence complaint with one police department and Scrapper filed a missing person’s report with another.

She could only laugh when, before ‘Leo’ was found to have crossed the border, Scrapper volunteered to organize a search party for his man. The bunnies and old ladies were visibly worried. Zee spoke of being worried about him after Leo and Denver, Priscilla’s friend and ex-lover, had gotten into a fight over her.

The brothers of the motherhouse told the police that Leo stormed out and Denver stayed behind. Bam Bam told them that he won a hundred bucks off Denver and put it towards the upcoming trip to New Orleans. He even produced a crumpled hundred dollar bill that Denver had paid him with.

Due to Covid, “Leo’s body” was not being allowed to cross the border. Officially, the border was still closed to everything except commerce. However, there is always a way.

The new plan was to have Leo’s body cremated. Not only would the ashes be allowed to cross the border, but there would no longer be any DNA evidence to prove that the body was not that of Kenny Thompson. Priscilla promised that she could act like a grieving girlfriend one more time.

In exchange for her performance, she wanted to call Camille. Celt laid out the rules and gave her a time to be at his office. They would use his secure line that created enough white noise that without the right program, a viable recording could not be made.

Celt hugged her and kissed her temple before she sat down at his desk. Denver sat in a chair on one side of her while Geo and Porthos sat on the other. Celt turned his computer to face him on the other side of the desk and began to work on whatever it was that family lawyers worked on. Priscilla had never thought about it until her cousins were kidnapped several years ago.

“We’re here, Doll.”

She smiled nervously at Denver. They had never lied to each other before, and Priscilla had just lied to her best friends for over a year. Porthos leaned in and pressed his lips to her temple. Geo linked their fingers together as Denver began to rub her back.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the receiver and dialed one of the few phone numbers that she knew by heart. Each time it rang, her nervousness doubled. Releasing her hand, Geo slipped a penguin shaped pocket buffy into her palm.

Pressing her thumb into the rough ridges, Priscilla was about to end the call when Camille’s voice came across the line. “Hey Celt. What’s going on?

A tear slipped out of her eye as she smiled. With a shaky voice, she answered, “Hey, girl.”

“Oh, my God!” Camille whisper yelled and Priscilla felt her friend’s relief. “Girl, what the hell is going on?”

“There’s…” her guilt was growing and tears were flowing. Both caused her voice to be raw and she had to speak slowly with breaks. “There’s a limited amount that I can say.”

“Are you safe?” Camille demanded in her no-nonsense way that Priscilla loved.

She looked from Denver to Geo and then Porthos. Leaning into Porthos’ chest, she smiled as she admitted, “I am now.”

“Damn it, girl, you better be.”

“I am,” she let out a breath and looked at Celt. “Leo and I got into a fight and he hit me. He did it pretty good.”

“That fucker needs to die.”

“He did,” she gave a sniffle from the tears that were still falling. Celt looked at her and although he only heard what she said, he was able to tell what they were discussing. “He, uh, snuck into Canada. And, well, you know Leo, he ended up on the wrong end of manhunt and then at the bottom of a waterfall.”

Celt gave a small shrug indicating that he agreed with the shortened and sanitized version of events. Porthos pressed a light kiss to the top of her head before shifting. She sat up and then leaned into Denver. Geo tapped Porthos’ leg and they quietly swapped places.

“I’m only saying that I’m sorry because I know that this is hard on you.”

Priscilla gave a small laugh. “Thanks, we were having problems. A lot of problems. I was thinking about moving home.”

“Where are you staying now?”

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard before answering, “Out at Denver’s sister’s place.”

“With Faith?”

“No, her brother. Faith is still in Europe because of the lockdown.”

“This fucking lockdown,” Camille muttered.

“Geo and Porthos are also staying there,” Priscilla added quietly.

Camille was silent for a moment before she gave a small bark of laughter. “Oh my God, girl! There is no doubt that you are your daddy’s girl.”

This declaration broke Priscilla and she started crying again. For years she had felt like she did not belong to the family. Her hair and eyes did not match everyone else. Her facial features did not look like any of her mothers or her father. Even her blood type was different.

Yet, just as her parents had told her, none of that mattered. Her men all preferred her natural brown eyes to the shocking blue contacts that she wore. Her roots had grown out over the last few months as Leo kept her from her family. She soon discovered that her men preferred the soft brown to the harsh black that she had worn for years.

Her physical appearance and DNA did not change the fact that she was a Lowery. She was chosen and loved. She was the first little pretty.

“Priss?” her friend asked softly as her men comforted her.

“I’m fine,” she assured her friend. “Just my personal insecurities coming to the top. And hormones that are out of wack.”

The line was quiet for a moment before Camille said one quiet and confused word, “Hormones?”

“Yeah,” she shifted and leaned into Geo who wrapped his arms around her. “I’m pregnant.”