An hour later, I finished going over the field reports from my two Lycan commanders. They’d located several hidden Lycan packs and had imprisoned them for death or draft. I needed more warriors, but I was quite particular about how they joined my forces.
“Cal.”
“Yes, General Xerxes.” The Djinn male stepped through the semi-open oval office door and bowed his head.
“Do you have the current location of Commander Martin?” I stood from the grand desk and moved around it toward Cal.
“Yes, General.”
I took his outstretched hand. Space folded around me, whooshing past like I’d been sucked through a vacuum. My heart skipped one beat, and I held my breath until we re-materialized. I’d been traveling this way for thousands of years, and it still surprised me a little.
The New York City skyline stretched out ahead of me, brilliant and bright and an example of extraordinary human ingenuity. The Washington Republic had capitalized on having technology above and beyond what most of the country possessed—except the small hub of very advanced research and development in California.
Most of the East Coast’s bustling metropolises continued to function at the same capacity they always had. The smaller cities were the ones that had turned to ghost towns. The power plants required a great deal of upkeep, and only the cities with money to pay continued to receive a steady supply of utility services.
“Commander Martin’s temporary base of operations is behind us.”
I turned, taking in the view of hundreds of army green tents and military vehicles. The rolling landscape seemed to crawl with movement. All organized. There were no shouts of rebellion. No shots echoing through the quiet.
The humans never saw it coming.
Grabbing Cal’s arm, I nodded. We blinked through another vortex, this time reappearing inside a large tent. A few snarls slipped from some of the men before I was recognized. Their demeanor shifted immediately from that point forward. Straight backs. Eyes on the ground. Silence.
“Commander Martin,” I said, keeping my voice level and low. “Your reports are excellent. Where are the troops you’re offering a chance to join ranks?”
The tall dark-skinned male stepped from the shadows. A cruel smile twisted his handsome face, reminding me why he’d been the perfect choice to lead half my army. He shared my bloodlust for pain and torture.
“The loyalty ceremony starts at the top of the hour. If you’ll follow me, I have a place set up for you to observe, or participate,” he answered, his tone pleasant and eager.
“How many accepted at the last one?”
“Twenty-two out of the hundred.”
I exited the tent ahead of Martin, and we walked across the base toward a more permanent steel structure. The scent of blood clung to the air, and I breathed deeply, taking in the familiar fragrance of a conquered enemy.
“The next hundred for this afternoon have already been lined up. Cal let us know you might be coming through.”
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing your progress.”
“Thank you, General. It is my honor. If you will excuse me for a moment?” He paused, waiting for permission.
I nodded, and he gestured me toward a raised concrete platform before disappearing through a side door. Rows of men in steel shackles flowed from a door across the open area, herded by soldiers in black with ready rifles in their arms. The footsteps of the men thudded heavily—knowing this might be their last walk on the Earth they called home.
One man on the end of the farthest row elbowed the nearest guard in the face and made a run for the door on the opposite side of the room. Suicide by guard? Surely he knew he wouldn’t get off that easily. My army was conditioned to desire blood and pain and suffering. The Lycan’s were taking their revenge against humans for centuries of being hunted, and their rage in turn furthered my rise to power.
“Halt or die, human.” The guard he’d hit raised his rifle and took aim.
Cal shifted behind me, and I nodded. A moment later, he appeared in front of the fleeing man. The human lunged to the right, attempting to avoid Cal’s block. The Lycan guard lowered his rifle and smiled, allowing my man to do as he pleased.
The Djinn blinked twice more. Then again. And again.
“What the fuck!” The desperation in the human’s voice echoed through the building. The other captives standing quietly in rows watched, their expressions rotating between horror and fear. Most had probably never seen a Djinn in person, much less watched one move effortlessly from point to point within the same nanosecond.
The human finally gave up and sank to his knees. Cal materialized in front of the kneeling human, pulling a scimitar from the sash around his waist. “Say a prayer to your God, human. My master has granted me your life-force.”
“Fuck you and the creature that bore you.” The human spit into blank air.
Cal reappeared behind the man. He sliced through both of the captive’s Achilles tendons, moving so quickly he barely stained his blade.
The man screamed out, but didn’t fall completely to the ground. He faced his death with pride. A shame he wouldn’t be joining my ranks. Strength of will like that was difficult to come by.
Cal blinked again to face his victim, sliding his sword slowly into the soft part of the human’s belly. Blood poured from the wound, and the soldier clutched at his stomach, holding back his entrails.
I leaned forward in my chair. The tangy, metallic scent of blood permeated the room. I drank in the pain of Cal’s victim, reveling in the fear and horror vibrating from the rest of the waiting, watching prisoners. My pulse spiked, and I held my breath, waiting for my slave to end the human.
The human choked, coughing up blood. Cal drove his sword deeper, nearly running him completely through. Then my slave straightened, wrenching his sword upward through the man’s chest cavity and slicing through rib bones like they were made of twigs. The steel and stones in the hilt of his scimitar glowed red. Cal drank in the man’s life-force through his hands—the sword merely acting as a means of transference. For Djinn, blood was the ultimate high, but even pheromones—especially those released during periods of fear—were as satisfying to most Djinn as a phenomenal glass of wine was to me.
Everyone in the room was silent, even the Lycan guards watched with a still reverence. Death had a way of reminding even the hardest men they weren’t invincible. Lycans lived several hundred years and could recover from wounds that would be fatal to humans, but they were far from possessing power like most other supernaturals who could live for eons—immortals in a way. Even I would eventually die, but it would be thousands of years before that happened naturally.
The gutted soldier’s body fell forward with a thud. Blood ran freely, covering the gray concrete floor with a wide burgundy stain. Cal flitted through the room, appearing and disappearing through the lines of men still standing in formation…waiting, their destinies hanging more in their hands than they probably realized. Their lives depended on how much life they were willing and capable of extinguishing.
Cal appeared again at my side with his head bowed low. “Thank you, Master.”
I nodded and then turned to Martin, mouthing the permission he’d been waiting for. His guards moved between the prisoners, unchaining fifty of the men. The remaining prisoners were secured to steel rings bolted to the floor. The fifty men who’d been freed rubbed their wrists and kept their gazes darting between the Lycan soldiers, Cal, and myself.
“You men are the next lucky group who have the honor of being given a chance to join General Xerxes’ forces. If you feel that chance is wasted on you, please step forward now and kneel before your master.”
“So you can murder us the way you did our—”
One nod from Martin and the man fell forward to the ground, his neck snapped before he’d been able to finish his sentence. The Lycan soldier who’d carried out the unspoken order stepped back from the body with a wry grin on his face.
Cold.
/>
Calculating.
Cutthroat.
Perfection wrapped in six feet and two hundred and fifty pounds of angry Lycan muscle. Martin had trained his men well.
“Anyone else feel the same way?” Martin stepped forward with a thin silver briefcase.
None of the remaining men moved or breathed a word.
“Excellent. Let the games begin. The ten of you standing at the end will join Jasper’s squad.” Martin gestured toward the large Lycan male who’d killed the mouthy prisoner. The soldier opened the silver case and placed it on the floor. Gleaming black knives lined both sides of the case. Some of the unchained humans made a mad dash for the weapons, and the others simply fell to their knees, waiting for death to take them away from the nightmare.
A couple of the men immediately turned on each other, slashing and dodging and cursing. The prisoners completed the task set before them, murdering each other for a place among us. A chance to survive the hell that had swiftly surrounded and ruined their perfect lives.
When the shouts faded and the groans died away, ten men stood quietly in the center of the room, each holding one of the knives. Blood and sweat coated them like a shroud. They were the ones willing to shift loyalties. The ones who would die to protect their families no matter what. The ones who didn’t care who they fought for. The ones content to kill for the sake of killing.
Those were the ones Martin wanted.
The ones I wanted.
I flicked my wrist, paralyzing everything and everyone in the room. A knife was frozen in the air a mere four feet from my face. The man who’d thrown it was one of the standing ten.
Walking forward, I pulled the knife from its place and continued to approach him, feeling the focus of every paralyzed individual trained on me. I loosened my grip on the room, releasing all the men from the bonds of my magick.
No one spoke and no one moved. The man who’d attempted to assassinate me widened his eyes, but did not flee.
Fearless.
I could appreciate that, but trying to kill me was a debt I never failed to repay.
“What are you?”
“The god you tried to kill.”
“You’re no god, just another fucking Other.”
“I am so much more than you could possibly comprehend, human. I’ve seen more history than your world can even fathom. Lived through more wars. Seen empires rise and fall.” Dropping the knife, I raised my hands, letting my magick curl around him, enveloping him from head to foot. My vision tinted blue, and I knew by the reflection in his eyes that my eyes had turned white. I opened up my voice, allowing it to grow and fill the room. “I am your god. And I am sending you to hell.”
The other nine men backed away, fear for their lives lighting a fire under their feet.
Claws grew from my fingers, and my body contracted and released. Muscles tightened and bulged. I roared. The change coursed through me like a lightning bolt, searing every cell with fire. The transformation took a few moments, shifting me from human to the size of a jumbo-jet with four sequoia-sized legs, talons the size of a man, wings that spanned the entire breadth of the hanger, and the head of a human mixed with features of a lion.
I snapped my teeth once, enjoying the terror I finally witnessed filling the eyes of the man who’d thrown the knife. He still didn’t run. Instead, he fell to his knees, accepting his fate. I roared again, my power and form shaking the building to its foundation.
Lifting a paw, I pressed it down against the man’s body, taking pleasure while listening to his bones snap like toothpicks. I continued ripping him apart with my claws until there was nothing left but the tattered remnants of flesh and bone.
I turned toward the fifty chained to the floor on my right. These men would know me as their god—all of them, humans and supernaturals alike. I would rule this entire country. Even if it meant killing every human on the face of its shores.
I would then move on to the rest of the continent before the rest of the Earth.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled the Lamassu back. My form shifted again. My wings tucked away, disappearing into my back. My legs and torso changed to human again, and I stood upright, waiting on my arms and hands to complete the shift.
My vision was still blue, and my voice bellowed through the hanger like I was wearing a personal megaphone. “Please, feel free to insult me again. I would take much pleasure in ripping you to pieces for your insolence or watching my man gut you with his blade.”
I turned to face Martin. “Perhaps we should scrap this entire group and start fresh? I’m feeling hungry.”
All fifty of the chained souls dropped to their knees, then prostrated themselves, pressing their faces against the grimy concrete floor.
Master. The name echoed softly through the hanger like dry leaves rustling in an autumn breeze. Even the Lycan soldiers were chanting along with the human prisoners.
Master.
Master.
Master.
Chapter 4
GRETCHEN
I looked up from the pages of my treasured copy of Little Women, a birthday present from Alek years ago. Rose Hilah herself and the Oracle—head Sister of the House—were both headed straight for me from the far side of the room.
Last night had gone about as expected. Men came. All the Sisters chose, except me. They all went off and had sex while I hid in the corner, doing my damnedest to blend into the potted plants along the gray stone wall of the foyer until I could sneak off to my room.
Hiding had worked for the past three years. That and faking illness. I was a master at always not being where I was supposed to be when the buses of volunteer human man-flesh arrived twice a month to fulfill the Sister’s need to procreate.
“Gretchen,” the Oracle spoke first. Her light tone mixed with disapproval sent a chill of despair merrily skipping its way into the bottom of my stomach.
I put down my book and sat up a little straighter, hoping if I met them head-on the outcome might not be quite as terrible. Destiny or not, this was my life. “How can I help you?” I asked, hoping the shake in my voice wasn’t as evident as it sounded from inside my head.
Rose took up residence in an armchair across from me while the Oracle sat down on the edge of the massive coffee table, her knees inches from mine. The fluorescent lights hummed, revealing to me how quiet the entire room had suddenly become. A brooding anxiousness filled my mind, and I rubbed my damp palms over the fabric of my skirt.
Everyone had left.
The Sisters who’d been working a puzzle in the corner. Gone.
The Sister who’d been playing the piano. Gone.
No one supported me. No one felt sorry for me. Most of them thought I was rebellious or selfish or just crazy.
“We were hoping we could help you. It has come to my attention that you are not participating in the joinings. Are you ill? Is something wrong? Did something happen that wasn’t reported?”
A plethora of lies leapt to the tip of me tongue, but the one that came out was the one I told the most often. “I haven’t been feeling well.” It was true in the moment for sure. My stomach was doing acrobatic flips and threatening to send up everything I’d eaten thus far today in a spewing volcanic display.
“Why are you lying, Gretchen?” Rose asked, her tone as even and as hard as the steel that plated the heavy door guarding the Sister’s basement living quarters.
Of course the all-knowing-heartbeat-reading-Sentinel-of-Sanctuary would know I’d just lied. My racing pulse was probably like a giant red checkered flag waving around in the air. I might as well just get up and scream, Hey, look at me. I’m lying through my teeth. Why did I even try? Every supernatural in this town was a walking-talking-breathing-lie-detector.
“I didn’t want any of them. They didn’t appeal to me, and you can’t force me to have sex.” Shit. Had I just told Rose and the Oracle to shove it?
Yes, I had, and it’d felt damn good. I crossed my arms and leaned back against the couch cushio
n. They’d come into my space to make me feel bad for a choice that I deserved to make. No one had the right to make it for me.
Not even Rose.
The Oracle’s shoulders slumped, and her brow furrowed. “Rose makes sure the men are vetted, handsome, and kind before they are even allowed onto the bus into Sanctuary. What is there not to like?”
“I just need more time. I can’t just pick someone out of a lineup and force myself to have sex with them. There’s no talking. No connection. It’s not me.”
“This is the safest way to fulfill the urgency welling deep within us to have a child. Don’t you feel it, Gretchen?” The Oracle leaned forward to lay a reassuring hand on my knee. It burned and I wanted to slap her hand away. I wanted to run out of the room screaming that they had no right. That I already loved someone else and I had no desire to ever sleep with and bear a stranger’s child, no matter how hard the supernatural urge in my gut cried out for a baby.
“I know it’s a little awkward the first time, but these men are chosen because they are good to us.”
“Then you sleep with them. I made my choice, and the answer last night was no.”
I shook my head, thoughts of Alek bouncing around like the tennis ball I threw against the wall for hours each day, waiting for it to be time to go to the library and see him.
“I can’t do it. Maybe I’m just not ready.” Maybe if I wasn’t already utterly-completely-totally-unconditionally in love with Alek. Maybe then I could’ve chosen. Probably would’ve.
But I couldn’t now and hadn’t been able to since the moment when I’d seen the possible future I could have with Alek. That we could have together.
He was so lonely and quiet. He needed me as much as I needed him.
Sanctuary, Texas Complete Series Box Set Page 96