by Chris Fox
“Allow you to touch my mind?” Ra said, disbelieving. She threw her head back and laughed. Jordan was aware of Irakesh flinching behind his mother, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. The mockery in that laughter cut deeply. Eventually it stilled, and Ra turned to Irakesh. “Step forward, my son.”
Irakesh did so, descending a step to stand next to his mother. He made no attempt to disguise his fear, not that Jordan could blame him in this instance.
“Place this around the Ka-Dun’s neck,” she commanded, extending her hand. Gold pooled there, forming a perfectly round ring just large enough to fit around a man’s neck. Glowing glyphs like those lining the walls covered the surface.
Irakesh took it, fear melting as he took a step toward Steve. He snapped the object around Steve’s neck with an audible click, and there was a brief flash of golden light. Then the collar sealed, now apparently one unbroken piece of metal.
“He is your responsibility, Irakesh. If you train him well you will be allowed to keep him. If not….” She shrugged.
“How do I control him, Mother?” Irakesh asked, the hunger in his gaze plain.
“With this,” she said, offering a bracelet to match the collar. Irakesh all but snatched it from her hand, slapping it around his wrist. It snapped into place and a look of ecstasy came over him.
“Lie down, dog,” Irakesh commanded, gesturing at Steve with his hand. The bracelet glowed golden for a brief instant, then Steve collapsed to the floor. Irakesh’s grin nearly swallowed his face.
“Step forward, Trevor Gregg,” Ra commanded, turning to face Trevor. Jordan’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted to a combat stance. “Place this around your Ka-Dun’s neck.”
She extended a similar collar, which Trevor took reluctantly. He met Jordan’s gaze, and Jordan saw something odd there. Was that pity? Trevor eventually took a step forward and gently slid the collar around Jordan’s neck. Jordan briefly considered batting Trevor’s arm aside, but what would that accomplish? Better to keep his dignity.
“And the method of control,” Ra said, offering Trevor a bracelet to match Irakesh’s. Trevor placed it around his wrist, a look of distaste flitting across his features.
“How do I use it?” Trevor asked, still looking at Jordan.
“Simply will pain through the bracelet,” Ra explained, gesturing at Jordan. “The Ka-Dun will feel it for as long as you will it so. What’s more, any shaping the Ka-Dun attempts will be cancelled, unless you allow it. This includes shifting. He is nothing but a mortal unless you allow him to be more.”
Jordan gritted his teeth and glared at Trevor.
22
Spy
Mark looked up from the narrow desk, surprised by the soft rapping at his door. He’d just left Osiris, and besides, the knock seemed too timid. Yet he didn’t hear a heartbeat on the other side. Interesting. He rose to his feet, pulling open the heavy steel door.
A woman in all black nylon stood on the other side. It covered her from head to toe, even her face. She was short, maybe five foot three. Mark took a step back, concerned she might be some sort of assassin. Yet she produced no weapon, and hadn’t made any threatening gestures.
“We can’t talk here,” the woman whispered, with a faint Irish accent. “Head down a level. Go to the storage closet at the south end of the hall.”
Then she was gone. She didn’t step into the shadows, as Mark had seen with other supernaturals. She simply vanished, and somehow he knew it wasn’t an illusion. He sensed that she was gone entirely. Some new power? Perhaps the voice in his head knew.
It is, master. Vampires possess the ability to instantly traverse space. The ability can only be used to cross short distances, but may save your life.
Short-range teleportation, then. That was beyond amazing, especially if he could master it.
Mark started up the hallway toward the door leading to the stairwell. He’d already decided to meet the strange woman, though he had no idea what her motives might be. Curiosity, cats, and all that.
The door to the stairway was a single solid piece of steel, its pitted surface painted a deep brown. The place screamed bomb shelter, and he wondered briefly why and when it had been built. World War II? Mark opened the door, which creaked far too loudly in protest.
No one seemed to have noticed, so he started down the narrow concrete stairs. The hallway was dimly lit by a single bulb, but his new senses made incredible use of the illumination. He could pick out the gradations of the concrete, the grease on the walls where thousands of careless hands had brushed.
He hurried down one flight, stopping outside the next door. He took a deep breath, or rather mimed taking one. His body was no longer aerobic, and apparently it functioned without the aid of oxygen. Despite that, the muscle memory was powerful, and he could feel the air as he sucked it in.
The door opened more easily on this floor, with only a slight creak. Mark stepped into the hallway, which was virtually indistinguishable from the one above. It too was lit by a single dim bulb, with a series of steel doors lining both sides.
He hurried up the hallway, moving far more quietly than he’d have been able to manage in life. That was a curiosity. His loafers were the same, yet he didn’t hear a single scuff, despite taking no special effort to prevent them.
This too is one of your abilities, master. You possess the ability to smother sound, much the same way a Ka-Ken does when shadow walking.
Mark filed that away for further study later. He needed to learn more about his abilities, and he needed to learn it as soon as possible.
The door at the far end of the hall was different than the others, this one cut from heavy oak instead of steel. Mark tried the handle, which turned easily. The door slid open silently, revealing a darkened closet filled with brooms, mops, and various cleaning supplies.
He stepped inside, glancing up the hallway to ensure he wasn’t being followed. Nothing. Mark closed the door, plunging the room into darkness. A pair of sharp green eyes flared to life at the far end of the closet.
They gave off just enough light to illuminate the stranger’s face. She was a young woman in her mid twenties. Blond curls dusted her shoulders, and her cheeks dimpled as she gave him a warm smile. It couldn’t have been more at odds with the hellish eyes.
“I’ve come down here on good faith, but you’ve reached the limits of my cooperation,” Mark said, just above a whisper. He straightened his tie, then folded his arms as he waited for a response.
“Thank you, Director Phillips,” she said, giving a gracious nod. It exposed a long, slender neck, which led down to a generous expanse of cleavage. Mark appreciated a beautiful woman as much as the next man, but he was shocked by the depth of the lust that simple glance provoked. “I know you have many questions, and I will answer what I can once I’ve explained why I called you here. You are a pawn, Mark. May I call you Mark?”
Mark nodded brusquely. He was already tired of this game.
“Osiris hasn’t sired progeny in over a century,” the woman said, licking her lips. That too, was sensual. “The fact that he would now is troubling, and my associates are quite concerned.”
“Associates?” Mark asked, eyes narrowing. “I don’t even know your name. Who are you? Who do you work for?”
“You can call me Elle,” the woman said, the Irish strong in her words. “As for who I work for, you’ll find out if you choose to meet them. We’re a faction of what you know as vampires.”
“You’re clearly working at cross-purposes with Osiris, or you wouldn’t be doing all this cloak-and-dagger crap,” Mark interrupted, trying to speed things along. He could be missed at any time, and he didn’t want to have to explain his absence. “I thought he was the first vampire, which means he created all of you. So what’s with the familial spat?”
“It’s far more than a simple argument,” Elle said, giving a heavy sigh. “Osiris is insane, Mark. He was left outside the Great Ark during the span between ages. He spent thirteen millennia scavenging en
ough energy to survive, and he did whatever it took to ensure that. It changed him. He’s not the same benevolent father we knew, and I fear what he intends for the world. You’ve already seen what happened, the zombies everywhere. You realize he’s responsible for that, right?”
“Is he?” Mark shot back. He’d had time to think on it, and the move didn’t seem to be Osiris’s style. If there was anything he’d learned about the ancient god, it was that Osiris was ever the showman. Killing the entire world deprived him of an audience. “And even if he is, why should I trust you? What makes you any different?”
“My people were left behind to care for the world,” Elle said, cocking her head as she studied him with those intense green eyes. “None of us are ancient, because we died off or slumbered as the power diminished. Yet some of us sired progeny, and passed down the legacy.”
“Okay, so let’s say you’re on the level. What exactly do you want from me?” Mark asked.
“We need to know what Osiris’s plans are. For whatever reason, he seems to trust you. If you value the few survivors and want to help humanity survive the next decade, then you’ll help us,” she said, gaze earnest. Mark sensed no deception, but didn’t discount the possibility that she could be using an ability to manipulate him. “Listen, Mark. I know you don’t trust me. You have no reason to. All I ask is that you agree to meet with my associates. Speak to them, and see if they can convince you. If not, then we go our separate ways.”
Mark was silent for a long moment. He didn’t trust her, but then he didn’t trust Osiris either. What was the right side? Was either one better than the other, or were they two shades of the same darkness?
“All right,” he agreed, giving a tight nod. “I’ll meet with them, as long as we can do it safely. But I’m going to want something from you.”
Maybe he leered at her, or maybe she was just used to men looking at her in a certain way. She glanced down at her chest, then back up with a wicked smile.
“Not that,” Mark snapped. “You’re going to teach me that teleporting trick. Do that, and I’ll meet with your masters. Deal?”
23
Banquet
Trevor finished dressing and surveyed himself in the full-length mirror set into the wall of his new chambers. He thought he looked ridiculous in the shiny white vest and harem pants. His chest, though well muscled and hardened by combat, felt exposed…naked. Anput had insisted he dress the part if he wanted to fit in. All the court wore the garments, with the exception of Anubis. Trevor felt like frigging Aladdin. Now if only he had Robin Williams around to grant wishes.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Trevor turned to see Anput enter the chamber. She wore a flowing white blouse cut from the same fabric as his vest, though hers was trimmed in gold. Her makeup was as skillfully applied as last time, and she wielded a smile with the same degree of skill.
“Are you ready for your first banquet, Trevor Gregg?” she asked, taking a step into his room. He noticed for the first time that she wore nothing on her feet. He’d expected some sort of expensive slippers, like she’d insisted he wear. Instead she walked barefoot, making no sound as she moved.
“No, but I doubt anything else you can teach me in the next few minutes will prepare me,” he said, stifling a sigh. He glanced down at the golden bracelet around his right wrist. It seemed an unnecessarily cruel invention, one even worse than the slave collars he’d read about in the Wheel of Time. If Jordan hadn’t hated him before, then he certainly would now.
“A fair answer. Follow me, and I’ll escort you. Do as I do, and avoid speaking unless spoken to,” Anput said, offering him her arm. Trevor took it, allowing her to lead him from the chamber. “These affairs are all about position. Others will attempt to spar verbally, those who win gaining favor with Ra.”
“You called it a banquet,” Trevor said, unsure how to broach the subject. He took several more steps up the corridor before continuing. “What exactly are we eating?”
“Ahh, I forget how little you know,” Anput said, shooting him a sly smile. “We will consume the hearts and minds of exotic thralls. This will gift us with potent memories, and we will share what we learn as we dine. It provides an easy method of conversation. Doubly so, since every memory is new in this strange age. Almost everything we learn is vastly different from our own time.”
Trevor felt a moment of revulsion, but he stifled it. It was unlikely that the victims supplying their meal would be consumed alive. More likely they were already dead, zombies harvested for this grisly meal.
You must set aside this squeamishness, my host. Power comes from feeding. Even were that not so, you are no longer human. You are deathless, and must consume the flesh of others to survive.
He was still gnawing on the problem when they entered a spacious chamber. They threaded through row after row of dark wooden tables, probably a legacy of when Ra’s court had been far more numerous. Each was covered with an array of animal pictographs, though many were faded from simple age. He was amazed they still held the weight of Ra and her court.
Anput leaned closer, whispering low enough that only he could hear. “The man seated to Ra’s left is Horus, son of Isis and Osiris. You already know Anubis, and you met Wepwawet briefly.”
Wepwawet, the wolf-headed creature that so closely resembled a werewolf, now wore golden garments. There was no sign of weaponry on his person, though Trevor had no doubt he could produce one if needed.
Anubis sat between Wepwawet and Ra. The jackal-headed god glared grimly at Trevor, though his earlier ire seemed muted. Perhaps because of Anput. Trevor glanced furtively at Ra, who lounged in her chair just as she had the throne earlier. She’d donned a sheer gown cut from a silky material Trevor had never seen.
The figure on her other side, the one Anput had called Horus, was strange. He was a shorter man with black skin and a shaven head. He was also the only god Trevor had seen to wear glasses, something he hadn’t even known had existed during the previous age. Horus straightened in his chair, peering through the gold-rimmed lenses as they approached.
“Irakesh has already seated himself across from his mother. He does this to steal prestige,” Anput said, guiding Trevor toward the table.
Trevor considered for a long moment, then took the seat to Irakesh’s left. That put him directly across from Horus. Anput gave a tight nod of approval as if he’d done something intelligent, then settled into the empty seat to his left.
“Welcome, Trevor Gregg,” Ra said, in that musical voice. He was once again struck by her beauty, though he did his best to suppress that. “I trust that Anput’s instruction in our ways is adequate?”
“It is, mighty Ra,” Trevor said, ducking his head in what he hoped she’d take for a seated bow. “I have much to learn, and I hope I don’t embarrass her too badly. If I do so, it’s my fault. Not hers.”
Ra raised a delicate eyebrow, and conversation ceased as everyone focused their attention on him.
“You are an interesting creature, Trevor Gregg,” Ra said, straightening in her seat. She clapped her hands once, and a set of doors at the far end of the chamber swung open. Several zombies garbed in simple black robes pushed trays into the room. They began setting covered platters in front of each person.
“It is unheard of for someone to preemptively show weakness,” Anput whispered as a platter was set before her.
The servants removed the platters’ covers, revealing porcelain bowls containing brains, hearts, and stomachs. Trevor wanted to be nauseated, but a tide of hunger immediately filled him. He forced himself to watch the others, particularly Ra.
She deftly picked apart each organ, savoring tiny morsels for long moments before she’d take another. He looked to Anput, who appeared to be the only person at the table with utensils. She used a knife and a two-pronged fork to cut thin slices of flesh.
It was only when he saw her open her mouth to eat one that Trevor finally understood why. Anput had two sharp incisors, the kind of fangs you’d expect to
see on a vampire. The rest were as flat as any normal human’s.
She is a vampire, my host. A child of Osiris. They are quite different than the strange legends I glimpse in your mind.
Interesting. Trevor turned his attention to his own food, forcing himself to rip off small bites. Each brought a small rush of memory, which revealed that his host had once been a tour guide. The man knew all sorts of things about Sakkara, the Pyramids, and the Sphinx. He’d spent countless days exploring them as a child.
“Do you find the meal satisfactory, Trevor?” Ra asked, in that strangely musical voice.
He looked up at her, forcing himself to focus past the rush of memory and emotion from a large morsel of the man’s prefrontal cortex. “More than satisfactory. This is the first food I’ve had in nearly two weeks.”
“You did not eat when you were with Isis’s pack?” Ra asked, raising a curious eyebrow.
“I didn’t want to alarm the humans we were protecting. They already distrusted me enough,” Trevor said, shrugging as he popped a hunk of heart into his mouth.
“This is why we rule the humans, and not they, us,” Ra said, raising a delicate eyebrow in what Trevor took for gentle admonishment. “They live to serve, while we guide the world they live in.”
Trevor wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he shifted the topic of conversation. “I notice Anput is different from the rest of you. My Risen calls her a vampire. My people have myths, but I don’t understand how or why that’s different than the deathless.”
“A shrewd question,” Ra said, nodding at Anput. “Tell him, daughter of Osiris.”
Anput used her napkin to dab blood from the corner of her mouth, then set down her utensils before speaking. “In the beginning there were only the deathless, fathered by Osiris and my foul uncle Set. They were powerful, but my father felt they lacked control. He hated what he’d become, hated how his former tribesmen viewed him.