Chapter 34: Homecoming Surprise
The portal spat them out onto the hardwood floor of the beach house with a sound like a wet kiss, and Mandy stumbled forward, catching herself on the edge of the console table before she face-planted into the decorative bowl of seashells.
"Fuck," she muttered, straightening up. The shimmering oval behind her snapped shut with a pop, leaving nothing but the faint smell of ozone and the familiar chaos of home.
The roar of the surf filtered through the open windows—a constant, rhythmic crash that she'd grown so accustomed to over the past year that she only noticed it when she'd been away. Salt air clung to everything, mixed with the particular musk of a house that had been closed up for a few days.
And underneath that, something else. Something that made her nose wrinkle.
"Did someone leave food out?"
Beth stepped through the portal a second later, her camera bag slung over one shoulder and her duffel dragging on the floor. She looked around the living room with the same suspicious expression.
"Smells like... sex and old pizza."
"Jesus." Mandy rubbed her face. "I left the van in Mom and Dad's driveway."
Beth laughed—a bright, uncomplicated sound that cut through the post-portal fog. "Calista will drive it down next visit. Don't worry."
"Next visit? That could be months."
"So? It's not like you need it this week. You work from home."
"I have client meetings."
"You have Zoom calls. There's a difference."
Mandy opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Beth was right. Most of her IT work was remote these days—the whole point of moving to Miami had been to escape the Chicago winters and build a business that didn't require a physical office.
Still, she hated leaving the van behind. It was Mike's prized 1987 Chevy, and he'd given her the title and keys when she moved, trusting her—of all his children—to keep it running.
"Fine," she said. "But I'm texting Calista tonight. Making sure she knows she's responsible for it."
"She knows. She's responsible for everything."
Mandy snorted. That was truer than Beth probably intended. Calista had appointed herself the family's unofficial caretaker, a role that had expanded to include Katrina's reintegration into the modern world and, apparently, the transportation needs of everyone in the tri-state area.
Beth dropped her bags by the stairs and wandered toward the kitchen. "I need water. Portal travel always makes me feel like I've been microwaved."
"Same." Mandy followed her, still thinking about the shower. The memory surfaced unbidden—steam and skin and Calista's glamour turning everything soft and electric.
She paused in the kitchen doorway.
"Hey, Beth?"
Beth was already at the sink, filling a glass from the filter. "Yeah?"
"Can we talk about... earlier?"
Beth turned, glass in hand, and raised an eyebrow. "Earlier when?"
"The shower. With everyone."
A slow grin spread across Beth's face. "You mean when you went down on me after claiming for years that you would never, ever, under any circumstances, touch your sister that way?"
"I didn't claim that."
"You absolutely did. Miami, two years ago. You said, and I quote, 'That's a line I'm not crossing, Lizzy. Some things are sacred.'"
"I was drunk."
"You were stone-cold sober. You were drinking water."
Mandy felt her face heat. "Okay, fine. I said it. But that was before—"
"Before Callie's glamour turned the shower into a fucking aphrodisiac sauna?"
"Yes. That." She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "I'm just saying. Normally, I don't want to go down on you. No offense."
"None taken."
"But Calista's glamour, it just—"
Beth held up a hand, cutting her off. "No one got hurt, Mandy. That's the point. Callie does stuff sometimes that makes everyone extra horny. It's not the first time. It won't be the last."
"I know."
"So stop overthinking it. You enjoyed yourself, I enjoyed myself, everyone enjoyed themselves. End of story."
Mandy wanted to argue—wanted to point out that the family dynamics were objectively bizarre and that a therapist would have a field day with any of them—but Beth was already moving on, her attention caught by something on the counter.
"Did someone leave a note?"
She picked up a piece of paper, frowning. Mandy crossed to look over her shoulder.
The note was written in Felicity's neat, scholarly handwriting:
GONE TO THE BEACH. BACK FOR SUNSET. JEEVES VACUUMING THE BASEMENT. — F
"Jeeves is vacuuming?" Mandy asked.
"He does that. You know he does that."
"He's a floating sphere with mechanical arms. How does he vacuum?"
"Very carefully."
Mandy shook her head. She'd long since stopped questioning the automaton's capabilities, but occasionally, the absurdity of living with a mystical AI butler still caught her off guard.
The mention of the basement reminded her of something else—the stack of files she'd left on her desk before they'd left for Chicago. Case files. Research notes. The beginnings of an investigation that no one had asked her to conduct.
"Shit," she said.
"What?"
"I forgot about the Consortium stuff."
Beth's expression shifted—the easy humor fading into something sharper. "The thing you've been looking into?"
"Yeah." Mandy moved to the coffee maker, more out of habit than hunger. She didn't need caffeine this time of day, but the ritual was soothing. "I've been tracking some unusual activity in the Dark Market networks. Small things at first—trades that don't quite add up, people asking questions about old Consortium structures."
"Old structures? The Consortium's been dead for over a year."
"Officially, yeah. But you know how these things work. Organizations don't just disappear. They go underground. They rebrand. They wait for the right moment."
Beth leaned against the counter, her earlier levity completely gone. "And you think someone's trying to restart it?"
"I don't know what I think. That's the problem." Mandy pulled a mug from the cabinet—one of the chipped ones that Casey had made years ago, the glaze uneven and the handle slightly crooked. "I've been talking to some contacts in the magical community. Nothing concrete, just whispers. But there's a pattern forming. Money moving in unusual directions. Old players coming out of retirement."
"Have you told anyone?"
"Like who? The Wands?" She snorted. "Jess works for them, and she doesn't even know what I'm looking at. Besides, it's probably nothing. Just paranoid speculation from someone who's read too many of Felicity's textbooks."
Beth studied her for a long moment. "You don't believe that."
"No. I don't." Mandy set the mug down without making coffee. She wasn't thirsty. She was restless. "The thing is, it feels like charity sometimes. The looking into it, I mean. My business is still getting off the ground. I'm doing okay, don't get me wrong, but I'm not exactly swimming in clients. So here I am, spending my free time chasing ghosts from a conspiracy that's been dead for years, and I keep asking myself—is this helping anyone? Or am I just looking for a reason to feel important?"
Beth reached out and squeezed her sister's hand. "You're not looking for reasons to feel important. You're looking because you're you. You can't help it."
"That's not the compliment you think it is."
"It's not supposed to be a compliment. It's just the truth."
Mandy stared at their joined hands—Beth's fingers shorter than hers, the nails bitten down to nothing, the calluses on her palms from holding cameras all day. She thought about all the ways they were different, and all the ways they were the same.
"Come on," she said, pulling away. "Let's go say hi. Felicity said they'd be back at sunset, but I need to at least see the house is still standing."
They walked through the living room, past the grand piano that dominated the far wall—the keys glowing faintly in the afternoon light, as if waiting for someone to play. The house had a personality all its own, a kind of ancient awareness that hummed beneath the surface of every room. Maybe it was just the accumulation of so many people living and loving within these walls, their energy soaking into the wood and stone until the house itself became something alive.
Mandy was about to comment on it—about the way the beach house always felt like it was watching, like it was listening—when they stepped into the main living area.
And stopped dead.
The scene before them was... a scene.
Ben was on the couch. Or more accurately, Ben was behind Mai, who was on the couch, her knees spread wide and her hands gripping the back cushions while he fucked her from behind with a rhythm that made the ancient furniture creak in protest.
Mai's English accent—that cultured, adventurous voice that could narrate documentary footage and seduce a sea serpent in the same breath—was hitching with every thrust. Not words, exactly. Just sounds. Breathless, broken sounds that fell somewhere between a gasp and a groan.
On the floor, tangled in the rug that Felicity had bought at a flea market three months ago, Jess had her face buried between Felicity's thighs. Her dark hair was a mess, spread across Felicity's stomach like a wave of ink, and her hands were gripping Felicity's hips with the kind of intensity that suggested she'd been at this for a while.
Felicity's fingers were tangled in Jess's hair, her scholarly composure completely shattered. Her glasses were askew. Her usually neat bob was sticking up in seven different directions. And her mouth was open in an O of pleasure that made Mandy's eyebrows hike up toward her hairline.
For a moment, no one noticed them.
Then Mai looked over her shoulder, her dark eyes finding Mandy's across the room, and a slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
"Hey," she said, as if she'd just spotted a friend at a coffee shop. "You're back."
Ben's hips stuttered. He looked over his shoulder, saw Mandy standing there with her arms crossed and her expression caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement, and had the decency to look sheepish.
Mandy wasn't mad. That was the thing. She'd been with Ben long enough—and with Jess, and with the fluid, complicated dynamics of their polyamorous arrangement—that walking in on him fucking one of her roommates wasn't shocking.
But it was fucking annoying.
"Seriously?" she said, hands on hips. "You couldn't wait until I got home?"
"It was my idea," Mai said, still grinning. Her voice was breathless, her cheeks flushed, but she sounded completely unrepentant. "We missed you."
"You missed me so much you decided to have sex without me?"
"Absence makes the heart grow horny."
"That's not how the saying goes."
"So the water's fine. Get in."
Four sets of eyes swung toward Beth, who had already kicked off her shoes and was working on the buttons of her shirt. Her camera bag was abandoned on the floor. Her travel clothes were in a pile by the piano.
Mandy stared at her sister. "You're joining?"
"I'm not going to just stand here." Beth smirked. "Besides, I owe Ben for that thing in Chicago. Figured I'd pay him back."
"What thing in—never mind. I don't want to know."
Mandy watched as Beth crossed to the couch, her short blonde hair catching the late afternoon light, her body moving with the easy confidence of someone who had never once been self-conscious in her life.
Jess pulled her mouth away from Felicity's cunt long enough to say, "Welcome back?"
"Thanks." Beth knelt behind Ben, her hands sliding up his thighs, her fingers finding the curve of his ass. "Don't stop on my account."
Ben didn't need to be told twice. His hips resumed their rhythm, driving into Mai with a force that made her gasp. And Beth—calm, deliberate Beth—slid her hand between his ass cheeks, her finger finding the sensitive spot just behind his balls.
Ben groaned. A deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere near his soul.
Mandy shook her head. But she was smiling.
She shucked her jeans. The denim hit the floor with a thump, followed by her underwear and her shirt and her bra. The Miami heat pressed in through the open windows, humid and heavy, and she felt it against her skin like a second layer of clothing.
She crossed to the couch, stepping over the tangle of limbs on the floor, and pushed Ben out of Mai with a gentle but firm hand.
"Move," she said.
Ben moved. He crawled over to Felicity, his erection bobbing between his legs, and settled himself between her thighs. His fingers found her cunt—slick and ready—and slid inside while Jess went back to work on her clit.
Mandy didn't waste time. She dropped to her knees in front of the couch, her face level with Mai's cunt, and buried her tongue in her roommate's folds.
Mai cried out. Her thighs spread wider, her hips tilting up to meet Mandy's mouth, and her hands found the back of Mandy's head, fingers tangling in her shaggy brown hair.
"Fuck," Mai breathed. "Oh, fuck, yes."
Mandy smiled against her cunt. She knew exactly what Mai liked—the way she responded to a firm tongue, the way she needed pressure on her clit. They'd been doing this long enough that it was almost second nature.
Behind her, she heard the wet sounds of Ben's fingers in Felicity's cunt, the soft gasps of Jess's mouth on Felicity's clit. The room was full of noises—breathless moans, the slap of skin against skin, the creaking of the couch beneath Mai's shifting weight.
Beth moved around them, her body sinuous and sure. She straddled Mai's face, her thighs framing Mai's head, and lowered herself down until her cunt was pressed against Mai's lips.
Mai's tongue immediately went to work. She was good at this—Mandy knew from experience—and Beth's gasp of pleasure confirmed it.
"Fuck, Mai," Beth breathed. "That's it. Right there."
Ben moved behind Mandy, his body warm against her back. She felt his cock press against her ass, hard and slick with Mai's juices, and she pushed back against him in silent invitation.
He didn't need words. He never did.
He slid inside her with a single, fluid motion, and Mandy groaned against Mai's cunt. The sensation—the fullness, the heat of his body, the rhythm of his thrusts—sent pleasure spiraling through her.
Jess crawled over, her face glistening with Felicity's juices, and kissed Mandy deeply. Her mouth was hot and wet, tasting of cunt and salt, and Mandy kissed her back hungrily, her tongue sliding against Jess's with a familiarity that made her heart ache.
"You have no idea how much I missed you," Jess murmured against her lips.
"I have some idea."
They kissed again—slower this time, softer—and then Jess pulled away, her attention caught by Felicity, who was now moaning beneath Ben's fingers, her hips bucking wildly.
Mandy turned back to Mai. She worked her clit with her fingers while Ben fucked her from behind, her tongue circling and pressing in the way that she knew would drive Mai over the edge.
Mai came with a shout. Her thighs clamped around Mandy's head, her vision going white, her body shaking as the orgasm tore through her. Her juices flooded Mandy's mouth—hot, sweet, overwhelming—and Mandy drank it down like she was dying of thirst.
Beth followed a moment later, her body shuddering, her fingers digging into Mai's hair. "Fuck," she gasped. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Ben pulled out of Mandy. She felt the sudden emptiness like a loss, but then his hand found her hip, guiding her onto her hands and knees. He slid back inside her—filling her completely—and fucked her with a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart.
Jess and Felicity finished each other with their fingers, their bodies tangled on the floor, their mouths locked together in a kiss that looked like it might never end.
Ben came on Mandy's ass; hot spurts of seed painting her skin. She felt it drip down her thigh, mixing with the sweat and the salt, and she shuddered with a pleasure that was almost too much.
And then Jess and Felicity were there—crawling toward her, their eyes bright with desire—and they took turns licking Ben's seed off her ass, their tongues soft and wicked and relentless.
Mandy came one more time, the orgasm rolling through her like a wave, and then she collapsed onto the floor.
They all did.
The living room rug was a mess. Someone's foot was in someone's face. Mai's hair was spread across the carpet like a dark, tangled halo. Beth's hand was resting on someone's hip.
Mandy lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her chest heaving. The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, its blades casting shifting shadows across the room, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of five people trying to remember how to breathe.
Then, "Next time," Mandy said, "wait for me."
Mai lifted her head. Her grin was still there, undimmed by exhaustion, her eyes bright with mischief. "No promises."
"You're impossible."
"I know."
"You live here. I live here. You could have just—"
"Texted you?" Mai laughed. "And what? Waited by the window for you to come home? That's boring. This was more fun."
"You're insane."
"Probably." Mai rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. "But you love me."
Mandy wanted to argue. She really did.
But Mai was right. She did love her. She loved all of them—Ben and Jess and Felicity and Mai and Beth and everyone else who drifted in and out of this strange, beautiful, chaotic life she'd built for herself.
The sun was setting over Biscayne Bay. The windows caught the light and threw it across the room in bold strokes of pink and orange—that Miami sunset bleed that made everything look like it was glowing from within. The ocean was a distant roar. And Mandy lay in a heap of bodies, her sister on one side and her girlfriend on the other, and felt something that was a lot like peace.
Then her phone buzzed.
She fumbled for it, squinting at the screen. A message from an unknown number.
You've been asking questions about the Consortium. Stop.
Mandy stared at the words, her heart pounding.
"What is it?" Jess asked, her voice sleepy.
Mandy considered lying. Considered making some excuse and pushing it aside.
But Beth was watching her. Beth, who had the sharp eye of a photographer, who noticed everything and forgot nothing.
And Mandy couldn't hide from her sister.
"Holy shit," she said quietly. "Someone noticed."
The words on the screen didn't change. They stayed there, pixelated and precise, a threat rendered in the same font as a calendar reminder or a spam email.
Mandy sat up slowly, the rug burning against her bare ass, the sweat already cooling on her skin. Her fingers tightened around the phone until the plastic case creaked.
"What does it say?" Beth was already on her feet, photographer's instinct overriding post-orgasmic languor. She crossed the room in three strides and peered over Mandy's shoulder.
"Someone noticed," Mandy repeated. She tilted the screen so Beth could read it.
Beth's face went through a rapid series of expressions—confusion, then comprehension, then something hard and cold that Mandy rarely saw on her sister's face. "That's not a wrong number."
"No." Mandy's thumb hovered over the message. Unknown sender. No metadata. She'd need to trace it, but she already knew it would be a dead end. Whoever had sent this knew what they were doing.
Jess propped herself up on her elbows, her dark hair a wild tangle around her shoulders. "What's going on?"
"Someone's been watching my research." Mandy stood, her nakedness suddenly feeling less like freedom and more like vulnerability. She grabbed her shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head. "Which means they know I've been looking into Consortium activity."
"Consortium?" Felicity's voice sharpened. She sat up, reaching for her glasses, and settled them on her nose with a practiced gesture. "I thought they were gone. Defunct. The despair bomb—"
"Reduced every member to a crying ball of sorrow," Mandy finished. "Yeah. I remember. I was there for the aftermath."
She'd been there for more than the aftermath. She'd watched the magical weapon detonate, had seen hardened criminals collapse into sobbing heaps, had helped process the survivors. It had been one of the strangest weeks of her life, and she'd lived through a lot of strange weeks.
But organizations didn't die just because their members were incapacitated. They adapted. They rebuilt. They waited.
"We need to assume the worst," Mandy said. "If someone's tracking my inquiries, they're either Consortium remnants or someone who doesn't want the Consortium found. Either way, I've stepped on toes."
Ben was on his feet now, pulling on his jeans with a grim expression. His post-coital glow had evaporated the moment he'd heard the word "Consortium." He'd been there when Shaw's people had taken Mandy and Felicity. He'd seen what happened when magical organizations decided to play rough.
"What do you need?" he asked.
"My van. My files. Everything I left in Chicago." Mandy was already scrolling through her contacts. "And I need to make a call."
She hit Calista's number without hesitation. The phone rang twice before her sister picked up.
"Mandy!" Calista's voice was bright, almost giddy. "I was just thinking about you. Or more specifically, I was thinking about that shower. You have no idea how hot you looked going down on Beth. I mean, I knew you had it in you, but—"
Mandy closed her eyes. "Calista."
"—the way you just went for it, no hesitation, and Beth's face when she came? I thought she was going to break the shower bar. And the sounds you made—"
"Calista."
"—honestly, I've been replaying it in my head all morning. I should have taken a picture. Or a video. Do you think Beth would have let me take a video? Probably not, she's weird about—"
"Calista." Mandy's voice was flat. Dead. The kind of flat that cut through even Calista's most enthusiastic rambling.
The line went quiet.
"You're on speaker," Mandy said. "And I'm not alone."
A beat of silence. Then, softly, "Oh."
Beth was giggling. Actually giggling, her hand pressed over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Mai had raised an eyebrow so high it had disappeared into her hairline. And Felicity—poor, scholarly Felicity—had turned a shade of red that matched the sunset outside.
"Everyone heard that?" Calista asked.
"Everyone heard that," Mandy confirmed.
Another pause. Then, with perfect composure, "I regret nothing."
"Of course you don't."
"I mean it. That was a beautiful moment. I'm not going to apologize for appreciating it."
"You're impossible."
"I prefer 'passionate.'"
Mandy wanted to argue, but the threatening text was still burning in her palm. She didn't have time for banter. She didn't have time for anything except action.
"Calista, I need a favor."
"Anything."
"I need you to bring the van to Miami. The Chevy. It's still in Mom and Dad's driveway."
"Okay." Calista's tone had shifted—still warm, but focused now. She could hear the change in Mandy's voice, the shift from sister to strategist. "What else?"
"I left some files in my old room. Research notes. Case files. I need those too."
"What kind of research?"
"The kind that might get me killed if the wrong people find it." Mandy paused, letting that sink in. "I think the Consortium might be back. Or something like them. I've been tracking unusual activity in the Dark Market networks, and someone just sent me a message telling me to stop."
"Stop what?"
"Asking questions."
The silence on the other end of the line was different now. Heavy. Calista understood what Mandy was saying. She'd grown up in this family too. She knew what it meant when someone threatened a Williamson.
"I'll be on the road before the day is out," Calista said. "Probably bringing Katrina with me. She'll want to help."
"Good. She's got contacts I don't."
"What about Mom and Dad?"
"Tell them to keep the Chicago folks on alert. Everyone. Rebecca and Charley, Jan, Hank—all of them. If the Consortium is back, they'll need to watch their backs."
"Consider it done." Calista paused. "Mandy?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful."
"I will."
"I mean it. Don't go running off after these people without backup. Wait for me."
"I'll wait."
"Promise?"
Mandy looked around the room—at Beth, already pulling on clothes and checking her camera bag; at Jess, alert and ready, her Wands training kicking in; at Ben, his jaw set, his hands already curling into fists; at Felicity, who was typing furiously on her phone, probably messaging Jeeves to start scanning for threats.
"I promise," Mandy said.
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow."
The line went dead.
Mandy lowered the phone and looked at the others. They were all watching her, waiting for direction. The sex was forgotten. The pleasure was forgotten. There was only the mission now.
"If the Consortium is back," she said slowly, "then it's time to go to war."
Ben stepped closer, his hand finding hers. "We're with you."
"I know."
"And we're not going to let anyone hurt you."
"I know that too."
Jess moved to Mandy's other side, her body warm and solid. "What's the plan?"
Mandy took a breath. The sunset was fading outside, the sky shifting from orange to purple to that deep, velvety blue that meant night was coming. The beach house hummed with its usual quiet energy, but something felt different now. Sharper. More dangerous.
"The plan," she said, "is to figure out what the fuck is going on before whoever sent that text decides to escalate."
She turned back to her phone, her fingers already flying across the screen. There were databases to search, contacts to call, trails to trace. The van would bring her research. Calista would bring reinforcements.
But first, she needed to know who she was fighting.
TO BE CONTINUED IN "THE CONSORTIUM'S REBIRTH"