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The setting for the Sheila & K'avir stories is the Star Trek Mirrorverse. Anything Star Trek-related are the intellectual property of Gene Roddenberry. All other characters, planets, star systems and content not within said scope are my own.


Zodiac: Jyotisha

Emil Jason Hendricks, named for his paternal grandfathers, was a charismatic, handsome man of 48 years.  He was married with three children and he became a pastor in his late 20s after finding Jesus in a wrecked, filthy disaster of a subway.  He never beautified his path to God in sermons or in interviews; he felt there was no need to lie about what happened to him.  From there, he worked his way up the ranks of ministry, building a cadre of loyal followers who were devoted to helping him spread his word of faith and forgiveness.  In spite of accumulating a measure of wealth, Emil remained as humble as he could.  He still lived in the house where he and his wife raised their children—with added security, of course.  He drove a modest sedan and wore the nicest clothes that the rack had to offer.  He lived his principles and gave back to God 10% and then some.

People liked Emil because he was an honest, self-effacing man.  For the most part, it was these qualities that helped his ministry to grow into a spiritual powerhouse that reached millions.  Community leaders and businessmen sought his guidance on all kinds of matters and his affiliations were nothing but positive.  Every few years, he did a worldwide tour that grew his ministry by the thousands and ten thousands.  He never let his success go to his head because he remembered all too vividly the chain of events that led him to the Lord and if he could reach others as he had been so touched, that was enough to satisfy him.

He kept a fairly strict daily routine: an hour of meditation and prayer, breakfast, an hour of exercise, and then spent the morning on church duties before having lunch with his wife.  Then he spent his afternoons on more church affairs and meetings before wrapping business up for the day.  He spent his evenings with his family and had another hour of meditation and prayer before ending his day.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a good man.

Madalyne and Macallan knew all of this, thanks to Cayo’s crack team of investigators.  That the good Pastor Hendricks was a most unusual target for a hit mattered not one iota.  They didn’t give a clean shit about the details of a target’s life other than the logistics required for taking them out.  To do this with the pastor was going to be interesting; for his schedule was fairly tight.  Macallan wanted him to finish his three-day run in Argentina before they killed him and Madalyne was fine with it.  There was an opening: according to Cayo’s research, Pastor Hendricks was going to spend one more day resting in Buenos Aires before moving on to Brazil for the next stop on his tour. 

He wasn’t going to make it to Rio de Janeiro.  That last night in Argentina would be his last, period.


Emil had just finished revising his sermon when someone knocked on his door.  It had to be room service, bringing him an early dinner.  He always took his meals in his room, as it was a distraction having them in the hotel’s restaurant, or in any nearby facility.  The day after a round of revivals in a city was his day of rest and rejuvenation.  He spent it in quiet meditation, prayer and thought while making revisions to his sermons.  It was a day where he was not disturbed except to have his meals brought to him.  Tomorrow afternoon, he would be leaving for Brazil. 

He got up and rolled up his sleeves before answering the door.  Sure enough, it was the hotel’s most efficient staff, wheeling his meal in on a service.  The housekeeper, dressed in a tidy gray maid’s uniform, held an enormous bouquet of lilies in her gloved hands.  She was a beautiful young woman and she was smiling at him nervously.  As the attendant began setting the table, she walked up to Emil and extended the bouquet.

“Mr. Pastor Hendricks, sir,” she began, her voice a mere whisper.

“Don’t be so formal,” he said, taking the flowers.  “Emil is fine.”

“I couldn’t,” she said.  “I could not be so disrespectful, sir.  My mother is your biggest fan.  You have changed her life.  You have changed all of our lives.  This is a small token of our appreciation.  Mami could not believe that you were staying in the hotel where I work and she insisted…she went to all three of your revivals, sir.”

Emil bowed his head in respect.  “Then I will not turn down her gift, Miss.”

The housekeeper smiled at him and bowed low, showing her cleavage.  “May I be of any other service, sir?”

Emil wasn’t an idiot.  This was an offer that was made to him regularly, and he addressed it as he always did.  He had never cheated on his wife before and wouldn't even consider it. “No thank you, Miss.  I appreciate it, but it is not necessary.”

The housekeeper looked disconcerted for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe a man turned her down.  Then she closed her eyes and said, “Have it your way, then.”

Emil looked confused for a hot second until he got hit with 50,000 volts from Macallan’s taser.  He collapsed to the ground and Madalyne used the toe of her shoe to lift his chin.  Macallan said, “And to think, you could have had a piece of that before you died.”


Madalyne pulled out her phone and a small Beats speaker.  She liked working with music.  Jay Z’s “N*gga Please” was on and she began swaying as she squatted to gag the preacher before removing his clothing.  Macallan finished setting the dinner table and made a point of cutting the meat and moving the food around as if Emil had actually started eating.  He went a step farther to remove some of the food and put it in a Ziploc bag he had in his pocket.  Macallan adjusted the chair around the table and walked to the thermostat to turn down the temperature.

Madalyne finished removing Emil’s clothes and zip tied his hands.  She folded the clothes and laid them on the bed; Cayo’s reports revealed that he was a fastidious man.  She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  Then she and Macallan stood over a terrified televangelist and stared down at the lesser with as much heated interest as they were capable of.  Then they picked him up, carried him to the bathroom and put him in the tub.

The song began to play again.  Macallan looked up from arranging Emil. “Do you have that on repeat?”

“I love the beat,” Madalyne replied, twisting one lovely leg to said beat.  “It’s sick, even after all these years.  The Neptunes did the damn thing with that one.”

Macallan winked at her.  “Play it when you strip for me, okay?”

Madalyne blew him a kiss and rolled her hips.  “You got it, baby.”

He stood up and they looked down at their frightened target.  Emil was completely dazed and still unable to move, but the fear in his eyes was real.  Macallan left the bathroom, returned with an enormous ice bucket and grinned at his wife before setting it on the counter.  Madalyne turned off the shower.

Macallan wriggled his cute nose.  “This is enough, you think?”

Madalyne wriggled hers in the same way.  “I hope so. It better be.”

Madalyne reached into her pocket and pulled out a syringe.  She removed the syringe’s cap, smiled at her husband and walked back to the tub.  She bent over Emil and plunged the syringe into his neck.

Macallan asked, “How long will it take that to work?”

“Not long.  We’ll be out of here in five,” she replied, shaking her ass to the beat.

Madalyne waited one minute before removing a scalpel from her pocket.  Again she bent over Emil’s head, removed the gag, and slashed deep five times.  Emil’s mouth opened in a rictus of pain, but he couldn’t utter a sound.  Madalyne took the opportunity to give him a Glasgow smile in addition to the cuts on his nose, face and throat.  She stood back.  “That should do it, baby.”

Macallan wore black latex gloves that covered his wrists and cuffs.  He opened the ice bucket and walked towards the tub, holding the bucket at a respectful distance.  Madalyne looked down at Emil, who had tears streaming down his face. “Rosalind Seyfert sends her regards.”

Emil’s eyes widened even more just as Macallan dumped the bucket’s contents over his head.  Madalyne stepped back quickly, her mouth a moué of disgust as the enormous leeches attached themselves to Emil’s bleeding face, some sliding into his destroyed mouth and up his ruined nose. 

Macallan replaced the lid on the ice bucket and whipped out a camera.  He took three pictures and slid the camera back into his pocket.  Then he and Madalyne stood and watched their handiwork for a few moments.

T. rex,” he said.  “An appropriate name.  They’re some big motherfuckers.”

“They don’t drop off the body when they’re full,” she said, moving close to her husband.  “They have to be physically removed from their victims.  It's because of their exceptionally large teeth.”

"I already called in to cancel his breakfast for tomorrow," Macallan said.  "There's at least 20 hours before he'll be missed."

Madalyne watched the hideous creatures cover most of Emil's face.  Some were burrowing through the gashes in his neck.  "He'll be dead long before then."

They looked at one another, recognizing the intense heat in each other’s eyes.  It was time to leave.  Macallan put his hand on Madalyne’s ass and squeezed it.  “You look so hot in this uniform, Madz.  I need to fuck you, so let’s go.  We have a plane to catch.  And you owe me a lap dance.”

End Volume I.

A/N:  The Tyrannobdella rex, aka the T. rex, is a recently discovered South American species of leech found in the upper reaches of the Amazon.  Unlike their counterparts, T. rex leeches have a single jaw with one row of large teeth that are 0.13mm in length; five times longer than a standard leech.  They bite into the mucosal membrane to feed on blood and can remain attached for days and for weeks.  The T. rex can get up to seven centimeters in size. 


  1. Wow. What did the Holy Man do to this Rosalind character to warrant such a death?


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