The Best Medicine

This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.

The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.

In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex.

While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game.

The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful.

Proofread by "Cristalball"

--------- ------------------

Farmer sat in an oppressive silence, her number-two man Jack sitting in the seat next to her as they hurtled down the highway towards Montana. Things had not gone well for her small band in the last twelve hours. Not well at all. They had been ambushed by a highly trained and well equipped band of werewolves attempting to collect a bounty that had been put on the head of Princess Vanesse Bellethial, heir to the elvish throne. While the werehyenas had not lost anyone despite multiple wounds, Vanesse's bodyguard, lifelong friend and . . . perhaps something more . . . had died. To make matters worse, she had died saving Farmer.

Not that Farmer was not used to having people around who would put their hides on the line for her, but Trina . . . it should not have been her. The elvish battle-dancer had been a thing of grace and beauty, and she should have been defending her Princess. But she had put herself between Farmer and a gun loaded with silver bullets. And even if the bullet wounds had not been enough to kill her, the elvish maiden had been bitten by a vampire, then had her neck broken.

Vanesse had been, and still was, an emotional train wreck. She had emptied most of her magical energy stores saving the lives of her werehyena friends (a strange word for those who had technically started out as her kidnappers), but she drained the pool dry trying to save Trina. It was to no avail. A necromancer could heal, cheat death for a while, or raise the dead as a zombie or ghoul, but no one could truly resurrect one who had gone beyond.

It had taken an hour to pry the Princess away from the frozen body of her friend, and another hour to convince the elvish noble that they could not take the body with them. They were doubling up on bikes as it was, as some of their own equipment had been destroyed or damaged to the point it could not be ridden. They had lain the body of the battle-dancer in a shallow grave, dug by Jack's clawed and bloody hands, with only a small mound of stone to mark where she had fallen.

Vanesse had gone into a state of near catatonia. She had not spoken since the convoy started moving again, and her eyes seemed to exist only as an outlet for tears. They certainly did not seem to see anything around them.

"Jack," Farmer said at last, her voice filled with a dark and chilling rage, "I want to know who those guys were. I want to know where to find them, and I want to know ten minutes ago."

"But the mission --"

Farmer's eyes snapped to her right and she barked a laugh that had nothing to do with humor. "We get her to safety, then we go after them. And this time . . . oh yes, there will be blood." She grabbed one of the satellite phones, as did Alani and Jack. The lesser werehyenas would start hitting up their underworld, black market contacts in an attempt to find their attackers. Farmer had a much tougher call to make. As the phone rang, she kept one eye on the road and the other on the rear-view mirror, watching the hollow visage of her royal passenger.

"Yes?"

came a sleepy voice.

"This is Farmer," the matriarch said, her voice still tinged with anger. "I need to speak to your . . . associate."

On the other end of the line, the Alpha, the most powerful lycanthrope on the planet and therefore their representative to the Council, made a coughing sound.

"You know that I can't --"

"Sir, things have gone very badly, and I need to know how far he's willing to go with this."

"What happened?"

"We got hit. Werewolves, and a lot of them. They had hi-tech gear, access to a fuckin' helicopter, and there was a vampire with them. Female, and she was scary powerful."

"The Princess?"

"The Princess is alive," Farmer said, then she growled, "Trina is dead."

On the other end of the line, there was silence.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it. They shot her in the back, then . . . Damn it, she was saving my life. I'm not letting this go."

"Just get the Princess to Atlanta. Once the Council hears about this --"

"Screw the Council! I'm not going to wait for these guys to try again or move operations. This isn't about Council politics or elvish politics or any of it. This just became so fucking beyond personal that I can't even describe it."

"We can't have a were war right now,"

the Alpha said sternly.

"Not with the Unveiling so close. The Council WILL side with you, but we just need time --"

"Sir, this is not something that I'm discussing with you. It's something I'm telling you. I will find out who did this, and I will personally --"

The Alpha's voice rose to its full power.

"You still have a job to do. If you go after whoever this is without my say-so, I will consider it a challenge to my authority."

Farmer's gaze was going red. "So that's the way it's going to be? You care more about politics than justice now?" She knew what he meant by 'challenge'. They had gone into an agreement, and you did NOT break an agreement with the Alpha without his consent. If she ignored his order, then it meant that she thought she was bigger and more powerful than he was. It meant that they next time that they met, it would be a fight to the death.

The other werehyenas were quiet now. With their enhanced hearing, they were picking up every word, and they knew how important the next ones were going to be.

The Alpha growled on the other end of the line.

"There will be justice, but it will be done the right way."

"Sir, she was staring in MY eyes when they shot her before the vampire . . . I'm not letting this go." Despite her intent and her rage, she did not want to challenge the Alpha. Because as strong as Farmer was, she knew that she would lose. She had seen the big man fight. He would kill her. Pride was a powerful drug though, and it was in the driver's seat.

"I'm not asking you to let it go, just . . . just show a little restraint."

Farmer gripped the steering wheel so hard, it started to crack. "Be in Atlanta when we get there. If I don't like what I hear, it may put a . . . crimp . . . in our relationship."

"Be very, very careful,"

the Alpha replied,

with what you say and who you say it to. I am not yours to command."

"Consider it a polite request then. Just like me wanting to talk to you-know-who is a polite request."

For a moment, there was silence.

"I'll see what I can do. I'll call back later."

The moment that Farmer put her phone down, there was a massive sigh of relief that enveloped the vehicle.

"Jesus H. Christ on a crutch," Jack said. "Boss, you got a death wish?" Jack's eyes opened, then fell on Vanesse, and he wished he had not just said that.

"Jack, not now," the boss hissed. "Or so help me by everything I hold sacred, I will take you to the woodshed."

Alani cleared her throat. "I hate to break this up . . . okay, actually I'm just afraid to, but I think I've got a lead on the people who did this."

Strangely, it was not Farmer who reacted first. Vanesse's hand, which had been lifeless just moments earlier, grabbed Alani's arm.

"Who?" The elf's voice was shallow and cold. Her grip, while not strong enough to hurt the werehyena, was certainly firm enough to get her attention. "Who did this?"

"Vanesse, we'll get them," Farmer said from the front seat.

"I . . . want . . . to know," Vanesse started, the sound raspy and increasingly gravely, "who killed Trina. I want to know who pulled the trigger, and I want to know who paid him to do it. And I want that vampire."

"You're a Princess, not a --"

"What? Not a fighter? Trina was the fighter, and they killed her. She died for me . . . for you," Vanesse let out a gasp, and the tears came again. "It shouldn't have been her. Dammit, it should have been me."

Farmer sighed. "No, it shouldn't have been."

"I ordered her to take me back. I thought I could help." Vanesse let out a gasping sob. "She died because I wouldn't listen."

"She died because some gutless fuckwad out there somewhere ordered it. Someone who wasn't thinking about what she meant to you," Farmer said, then punched the dashboard angrily.

Strangely, it was Jack who spoke next. "Someone who never saw her move the way only she could. Fight the way she could. Smile the way she could." He stopped talking when Alani took his hand.

"Vanesse, I've lost people before. I know what you're feeling," Farmer said.

The Princess closed her eyes, but the muscles of her face clenched as if in anger. "You don't know. You have dozens of people . . . friends. I had her. For fifteen years, she was the only one I could count on. I've known . . . knew her . . . from before I even had memories. Now, I've got no one. She loved me and I never even got to figure out what that meant."

Farmer felt like a total heel. If she had just kept her mouth shut and minded her own damn business, then Vanesse's last moments with her friend would not have gone they way that they had. "Losing someone, even if you have more friends around, still hurts. And you aren't going to be alone. You've got us. You've got a kingdom, and you've got a grandfather --"

"Boss," Jack warned, shaking his head.

"My grandfather cares more about the Council and politics than he ever cared about me," the Princess shot back.

"And who told you that? Your uncle?"

"He's a member of the damn Council! You really think that he could have been kept away if he wanted to talk to me?"

"Did you ever ask him? Did you ever reach out?"

Vanesse's heart was already caught in her throat, which might be why she could not answer right away. She had spent so much time hating the Shepherd, but how much of that had developed back before she knew about her uncle and all of his lies? The hurt started in again. She wanted to ask Trina for advice, and she couldn't.

"Babe, don't break on me now," Farmer said, then realized that she needed to take a cheap shot. One that she hoped that she would eventually be forgiven for. "I need you to stand up and be the Princess that Trina thought you were."

Vanesse's eyes locked on the back of Farmer's head. "Don't you dare use her memory like that." She looked out the window. Protest aside, the gambit had worked. She was not going to avenge Trina's death by crying about it. She would wallow in her grief when the job was done. But her head was having a hard time convincing her heart of anything.

---------- ----------------

That evening . . .

---------- ----------------

The Shepherd sat with his face in his hands. The Alpha sat across from him, waiting for a response. It had taken all day to track his friend down, and telling him what had happened to Trina had bee difficult. And the Shepherd took the news like he had just lost a daughter.

"This is my fault," the Shepherd mumbled. All the centuries he had spent on earth seemed to have caught up with him in between breaths. "I should have just let it be. I --"

"There's no way you could have known things would get this bad. I'm sorry about Trina, but she was a bodyguard. That was a risk of the life she chose."

""She never would have had to defend Vanesse if I had not interfered. Gods above, she was just a child herself."

"She was fifty --"

"Ten of those years were lived in poverty or slavery, and forty were spent thinking only of someone else! Vanesse . . . my son and his wife . . . they were her world. And I can't even avenge her without risking my position on the Council." He choked back his own sob and tears. "Maybe that's the way it should be. I should be held accountable --"

"Okay, stop with that shit. You didn't order anyone to try and kill Vanesse. You didn't order someone to pull the trigger and shoot Trina in the back."

"I might as well have."

"Okay stop!" the Alpha growled, putting his hand firmly on the table. "You're beating yourself up, Farmer's beating herself up, and who knows what your granddaughter must be feeling. Right now, she is still behind enemy lines, she is still in danger, and she needs our help."

Shepherd closed his eyes. "You're right. Of course, you're right. We need to bring her in."

"Easier said than done. Farmer is looking to commit some serious evil, and I don't think I'll be able to get her to hold off for long. She was on the verge of challenging me if I didn't do what she wanted. And that's not a fight I want."

"You'd probably win."

"Some victories ain't worth the pain that would come with them. Farmer's a good woman, and our community will need her after the unveiling. But she's also prideful, and she won't let what happened go unavenged for long. She wants to talk to you."

That caused the Shepherd to open his eyes. "You told her it was me?"

"No, but she ain't dumb. She put two and two together quick enough. I guess that Vanesse has figured it out too."

"She must hate me more than anyone."

"I don't know. Neither will you unless you talk to her too."

The Shepherd nodded. "And . . . and I want to find where they left the body. Trina deserves to be buried in the Great Hall underneath Stonehenge."

"I'll make sure that it happens," the Alpha said, hoping that his compassion was not writing checks that reality would not be able to cash.

--------- ---------------

That evening . . .

--------- ---------------

Vanesse sat alone, perched quietly on the tailgate of the SUV, staring into space as Joker's Wild started to make their evening's accommodations more comfortable. The gang had found an abandoned lumber mill that would easily hold all of them and their bikes, and was far enough off the main road that the fires would not be seen.

They had not made as good of time as Farmer wanted. She had decided to stop and acquire a number of vehicles. It had been decided that the motorcycles were just too conspicuous. Luckily, the pot trade, as well as the "odd jobs" that the gang was known for paid well, and they rarely used their money. They now had a number of old but reliable vehicles, ranging from pick-ups to SUVs, even a small recreational vehicle. The motorcycles would be left here until Joker's Wild could return for them.

"She gonna be okay?" Doreen whispered into Alani's ear.

"Who? Vanesse or Farmer?" the islander girl replied, a bit bitterly.

"What's wrong with Farmer?"

Alani clenched her hands. "She's not laughing. She's stuck between pride and responsibility. If pride wins, she has to face down the most powerful lycanthrope on the planet. If she does the responsible thing, then she'll hate herself. She respected Trina, and she holds herself responsible, despite what she told Vanesse."

"But she's responsible for us all the time," Doreen said, looking at her leader who was pacing along one wall.

"It's her job to protect us, just like it's our job to protect her. It shouldn't have been Trina's job."

Doreen was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She was one of the youngest members of the gang, and she had never been around when they were not all laughing. Just as Alani had said, it was disconcerting. Even Jack, the most hopelessly upbeat person she had ever known, was seething with discontent.

Farmer's phone rang and she answered it immediately. "Speak."

"May I assume that I am speaking with Farmer?"

Farmer was so tense that she could feel it in the skin on her skull. "Yeah. Yeah, this is Farmer."

"This . . . this is Vanesse's grandfather. How --"

"You planning to ask me how she's doing?" Farmer hissed. "How the hell do you think she's doing?"

There was silence on the other end.

"And what am I supposed to ask?"

"I don't know. I . . . sorry about that." Farmer looked across the floor to where the Princess was sitting. Her eyes were open, but there was not anyone at home at the moment. "She's taking it hard."

"I don't think that there has ever been a day where she and Trina were apart,"

the Shepherd replied.

"And how would you know? She doesn't seem to think you had all that much interest in her life."

"For five years, I had absolutely no say. Her uncle became her legal guardian, and he denied all my requests to see her until she was twenty. For the last ten years, he would not even tell me where she was until he seemed assured that she already hated me."

Farmer spit on the ground. "I hate politics. I fucking hate them. And now whatever you people have going on has gotten Trina killed."

"Before you throw too many stones in your glass house, don't you dare forget your own involvement in this,"

the Shepherd snapped back.

"What was the driving force for you? Boredom or greed?"

The sound of Farmer's free hand punching a hole in the wall echoed throughout the building. Everyone, including Vanesse, was staring at her.

"I am well aware of my part," Farmer replied, her voice softer now that she had found an outlet for her anger. "And I will see justice served."

"I know that you hate politics, and I'm sorry that I'm going to have ask you to play them a little while longer. Before you lose your temper, the end goal is to get your people and Vanesse out of harm's way and to make an example of those that killed Trina. But we have to do it intelligently."

"How so? And why can't the Council just order a retaliatory strike?"

"Because the Elvish King has refused to surrender jurisdiction to the Council. Seeing as it involved Elvish royalty, he has every right to do so. He does not want me to become involved in finding her for fear that I will 'corrupt' her in some way. And if Joker's Wild is officially identified as her kidnappers, then King Tarrin Ralisen will have every right to have you hunted down and killed."

"You put us in this mess," Farmer growled.

"I never thought things would get this bad. I did not think anyone would offer that kind of money to try and kill Vanesse. Now the manhunt has gone into overdrive."

"Well what do you expect? Now let's --" Farmer stopped. Vanesse had wandered over and was staring at her.

"Give me the phone."

"Shepherd, it appears Vanesse wants to talk to you."

The Princess took the device with a trembling hand and brought it to her head.

"Vanesse, I --

Vanesse cut him off. "Trina called me Vanesse, or at least that's what I wanted her to call me. You can refer to me as Princess Vanesse Bellethial."

"Van . . . Princess, are you going to be okay?"

The Princess just let out a single laugh. "Don't pretend to care. You've been out of my life for a long time."

"Not by choice."

Vanesse covered her eyes. "She's dead. She's dead and I'm not getting her back. I want the people who did this to pay. What do I need to do?"