Archanum Manor

by Michael Pierce

  “How long was I out?” I asked, climbing back to my seat.

  Eli scooted down the leather bench a few feet, out of my immediate reach.

  “Long enough to make most of the ride peaceful,” Eli said.

  “Let me see her again,” I said.

  “No,” Eli snapped. “You used up those privileges.”

  “Let me s—”

  “She’s still fine. I didn’t do anything rash—unlike you, I think before I act.”

  “So you were fully in control of your actions when you were killing my brother?”

  “I was doing what needed to be done,” Eli said. “It wasn’t easy, I’m not proud of it, but it was necessary.”

  I think he felt me ready to lunge for him again. In one quick movement, he scooted down the bench another foot and pulled his phone from his pocket. Within a second the screen was pointed at me, allowing me to see Desiree still lying on her bed, her eyes closed.

  “Is she okay? How do I know she’s okay?!”

  Eli glanced at the screen. “She’s probably just sleeping. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

  “Prove it!”

  “Is she sleeping?” Eli asked to the screen. “Wake her up.”

  A moment later, Desiree was hit in the chest with a paperback book. Her eyes instantly shot open and darted around the room. She didn’t try to get up, but I could see her whole body shaking from the shock of being awaken with such a jolt.

  “See? She’s fine,” Eli said. “Now, behave yourself. One more dumb move and she’s gone.”

  “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I said. I could pull my handgun to me with one focused thought and shoot him before he had a chance to react, but Cias...

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”

  “As much as I’m enjoying this adolescent standoff, we’re here,” Cias said.

  I hadn’t even noticed that the limousine had stopped until Cias opened the door.

  I was flanked by Cias and Eli getting out of the limousine. There was a line of taxis, personal cars, and limos occupying the entrance of the fancy hotel. I saw a plaque by the sliding glass doors identifying the hotel as The Ritz-Carlton. Doormen in red blazers and black top hats stood at attention nearby and offered assistance to each new guest who arrived.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” one of the doormen said as we approached the glass doors. “Welcome back.”

  “Good afternoon,” Cias replied.

  I nodded, but didn’t offer a formal greeting and tried to act as natural as possible with Eli walking directly behind me. I knew he wouldn’t do anything stupid with all these people around, but he did hold Desiree’s fate in the palm of his hand. In stepping out of the limousine, he had his phone ready to make the call if I tried anything.

  The lobby was busy with people checking in and partaking in pre-dinner drinks. Glistening crystal chandeliers hung overhead and colorful murals decorated the two-story ceiling. A pianist and cellist entertained relaxing guests on posh sofas. We were greeted by more impeccably dressed employees as we crossed the marble floor, headed for the elevators.

  “Oliver, act natural,” a familiar voice said. The voice reached over the mixture of lobby sounds that had become white noise.

  I looked back at Eli, but he was a few steps behind me and I knew it was not his voice.

  The voice reminded me of TJ or Nero. I couldn’t tell if it was a voice I’d heard aloud or one that was just in my head.

  As we walked, I scanned the lobby—the people standing in line for the front desk, the people walking to and from the elevators, the people sitting at the nearby bar, the people sitting in the lobby lounge listening to the musicians—and then I saw to whom the voice belonged.

  “Keep walking,” the voice said again, louder this time, but still with the feeling of only being in my head. Nicholae sat cross-legged on one of the sofas with a glass balanced on the tall armrest, facing the musicians. His profile faced us as he took a long sip. He made no attempt to look over or provide any visual acknowledgement.

  I tried to keep my eyes scanning the lobby, and noticed Eli doing the same. He seemed anxious to get out of this public setting.

  “Don’t do anything,” I said under my breath. I didn’t know if Nicholae could hear me or not, but Cias glanced back.

  “Did you say something?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, my heart pounding.

  Nicholae, they’ve got Desiree and will potentially kill her if I don’t play nice, which I’m sure applies to you as well. Don’t screw this up for me.

  I didn’t know if my thoughts or soft words would make it to him, so I used every avenue at my disposal.

  The elevator’s doors spread open and its occupants poured out. We made our way inside before the doors could close, and as they did, I turned and had one last look into the lobby. Nicholae hadn’t moved more than adjusting his seated position and sipping on his drink.

  We had the elevator to ourselves as we ascended to the top floor. The air was thick with tension as the three of us watched the numbers climb with each passing floor—slowly counting down to some fate I didn’t want to fathom. I knew Kafka would be waiting for me in the penthouse, along with numerous other Lorne family members who wanted me just as dead.

  I tried not to give anything away. As far as Cias and Eli knew, everything was going precisely to plan. If either of them had spotted Nicholae, they didn’t say anything. I didn’t even know if Eli would know Nicholae if he had seen him.

  Each floor was another step walking on the plank. I had to constantly remind myself whom I was doing this for, why I wasn’t putting up a fight, and why I didn’t want anyone to rescue me. And then I knew what I had to do.

  “Nicholae’s here,” I said as we reached the top floor and the doors slid open. “I don’t want him to—”

  Then I saw Nicholae standing in the hallway just beyond the elevator doors. He gripped a long, curved sword in both hands, with the razor tip pointed at us.

  “That’s right, I am,” he said coldly. “No sudden movements. Easy does it.” He backed up a few steps to allow us to exit the elevator.

  “I was watching out for him the whole time,” Cias said.

  “Don’t,” Nicholae growled.

  “Nicholae,” I said, inching closer to him. “They have Desiree. We need Eli to make the call to release her.”

  “He will,” Nicholae answered and pushed Eli forward, toward the elegant double doors ahead of us.

  “Kafka could be here right now,” Cias said.

  “But he’s not,” Nicholae answered.

  “He’ll be back any moment.”

  “Then we’ll have to make this quick then, won’t we?”

  Instead of swiping a keycard in the lock, Cias simply strolled through the door.

  I’d done it enough times not to flinch anymore and entered the penthouse suite in line with Nicholae, passing through wood and metal like the material was little more than air. Eli appeared behind me more than a few seconds later.

  I was reminded of Kafka’s condominium in Lorne Tower when I entered the penthouse suite, but instead of having Jeremy at my side, I had Nicholae. We all gathered in a large, bright living room with two cream-colored couches, a few matching chairs and a grand piano. Windows overlooked a sea of low-standing buildings, all the way to the coast. A muscular gray wolf paced the room and stopped and stared when it saw Nicholae. The beast’s head dropped and the skin around its jaws curled up to reveal large yellow teeth. It didn’t attack, but produced a deep warning of a growl, the fur at the scruff of its neck at full attention.

  “What now?’ I asked, staying on the far side of Nicholae to keep him between me and the wolf. “We need to help Desiree,” I reminded him, but I don’t think he was even listening.

  “This is the final straw,” Nicholae said. He was solely focused on Cias. It was like Eli and I weren’t even in the room. The sword hung down by his side, now only held loosely in one hand. “I’m
not taking any more chances.”

  “You know what I’ve had to do to keep my cover,” Cias said. He was inching closer to the wolf. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done it for you—for your cause.”

  “What’s he talking about?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Eli added.

  “This is not for me,” Nicholae said and gestured to me with the blade of the sword. “Kafka already has Helen. With Oliver, I would have nothing left. There would be no bargaining after that.”

  “I had to,” Cias said.

  “You didn’t come to me first. You didn’t warn me at the camp.”

  “It all happened so fast,” Cias pleaded. “I couldn’t get away. There wasn’t a right time.”

  “All decisions you made that you now have to own,” Nicholae said. “You brought this upon yourself.”

  In a flash, Nicholae advanced on Cias and the wolf, who both seemed to freeze in place at the very same moment. There was no big swing of the sword, just the tip of the blade pointed outward until it met flesh, and then slipped through Cias’s gut with ease and came out slimy and dripping crimson tears on the opposite side.

  When Nicholae pulled the sword free, Cias collapsed to the floor, groaning and clutching his stomach. The wolf remained in place, as still as a statue.

  “Go ahead,” Nicholae said. “Heal yourself.”

  “And prolong the inevitable? No thanks.” Cias coughed up blood and phlegm.

  “As you said, your master could come back at any moment to save your life.”

  “He’s not my master,” Cias said, turned his head, and spat on the floor. “And he probably wouldn’t save me. He was my assignment—an assignment I failed.”

  Nicholae stabbed him swiftly through the thigh. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  Cias cried out, but didn’t remove his hands from his stomach wound. Blood poured from his split pants leg like a found underground spring.

  “Stop!” Eli yelled. He clicked the slide on one of his handguns and leveled it at Nicholae. “I won’t let you!”

  Nicholae looked amused and taunted Eli by sinking his sword into Cias’s good thigh and leaning on it like a cane.

  Cias’s eyes were closed, his skin broken out in thick beads of sweat, as he tried to retain his composure—holding on to his dignity as Nicholae slowly sliced away.

  “Go on, take your shot,” Nicholae said. “You’ll only get one.”

  Eli’s hands shook, but he didn’t lower his weapon. Instead he moved the barrel to me. “How about now?”

  Nicholae didn’t hesitate. “Shoot,” he said ominously, his voice and intensity reminding me of the man I feared—the man who could walk through the door at any moment.

  I knew what I could do, and so did Nicholae. But I had to concentrate if I was going to defy incoming bullets.

  Eli retrieved his phone and held it up, taunting me with a lit screen. “If you don’t let him go, I won’t let her go,” he said. He finally lowered his gun, knowing full well where his leverage really lied.

  “Nicholae, stop,” I said, not able to take my eyes off the screen. It was just a locked screen, but I saw Desiree in it. “I need to get her back.”

  “And you will,” Nicholae said, yanked the blade from Cias’s thigh with a wet pop and plunged it into his heart.

  Cias slumped over and bled out on the dark hardwood floor.

  “No!” Eli and I yelled simultaneously.

  Eli once again raised the gun and took a shot at Nicholae in a mad fury.

  The bullet stopped inches before reaching Nicholae and he plucked it out of the air like an irritating fly.

  I reached for Eli’s phone with my mind, and within seconds, I’d stripped him of it. It found my hand before Eli even knew what had happened. He dropped the gun by his side for the second time, and hung his head along with his useless weapon.

  “What’s your password?” I demanded, holding up the phone. “You’re going to help me make the call and tell your guy to release Desiree.”

  “8180,” he said softly, refusing to raise his eyes.

  I entered the code and the home screen popped up. I didn’t want to bring up the live video just in case the guy on the other end could see what was happening here and realize that Eli was no longer in control. I navigated to the call log to find the last phone number dialed and pressed the call button. When it started to ring, I turned on the speakerphone and held the phone closer to Eli.

  “Now, tell them to let her go,” I said, but as soon as I’d finished talking, a computerized voice announced that I could leave a message for the dialed number.

  Beep.

  “We can’t stay here, now that this moron’s gunshot has most likely incited numerous calls to the police,” Nicholae said. “I’m sure it won’t take them long.” He turned to the statue of the wolf and swung the sword in a high arc, in line to sever the animal’s head with one mighty blow. But the wolf disappeared before the blade reached fur and flesh.

  “If you are satisfied with your message, then please hang up or press one for more options.”

  I looked down at the phone, horrified, and pressed the end button. “No…”

  The sword dug into the wood flooring with a splintering groan. I wasn’t the only one surprised.

  “That’s low, even for you,” a new voice said.

  My attention was drawn from Nicholae to the entrance of the suite where the voice came from—where Kafka stood stoically, and at his side—

  “Mom!” I yelled.

  She looked like a statue, frozen and expressionless. Only her eyes displayed any type of emotion. Kafka placed a protective hand on her shoulder. He appeared to have aged twenty years in weeks. He now looked like the man—the bogeyman—I remembered from Lorne Tower and my childhood nightmares.

  “You almost sealed her fate right here,” Kafka said. He took a few steps into the room, and Mom seemed to mirror each step he took, remaining directly beside him.

  Nicholae didn’t take his eyes off my mother. I assumed it was the first time he’d seen her in ten years—since we’d escaped to this plane without him.

  “You’re speechless. That’s rarely happened in all of the lifetimes I’ve known you,” Kafka said to Nicholae.

  “Give her to me,” Nicholae finally said.

  “You’re not in a position to make demands.” Kafka’s voice was cold, yet calm. A hand swooshed back one side of his overcoat, making it billow like a cape, landing on the hilt of a dagger, fastened tightly to his hip. “Nice try, brother,” Kafka laughed, sliding the dagger slowly from its sheath. “You’re not that good of a pickpocket. You’ll have to be faster than that.” The double-edged blade glistened in the track lighting. “I will eventually kill you with it—make no mistake—as I did with our old friends Cornelius and Zachariah. I must admit, you had me doubting its power with the whispers of Zachariah’s return.” Kafka stole a glance at me. “But I now know better. Nothing but a story. Bryten wouldn’t supply me with an ineffective artifact.”

  “I know,” Nicholae said. “You’ve told me about your elusive mentor.”

  “To whom I am now his equal. He separated; I combined.”

  “You killed millions of people in the collapse. That’s not an accomplishment.”

  “No, Nicholae, it’s one of the greatest accomplishments of all time. And now we have a new beginning. After all these millennia. We could rule the world together.”

  “And your mentor’s good with this grandiose plan?” Nicholae asked sardonically.

  “The Archanums are gone,” Kafka said. “With me left as the last living person to remember their name. Lorne will not be so easily forgotten. You may be fighting me, but this is really for all of us.”

  Kafka slid the dagger back into its sheath.

  Nicholae stared intently at Kafka and my mother.

  Eli had his gun raised again, pointed at me now that he felt confidently backed up. “I’ll take that back now.”

  “No,” I protested, b
ut the phone was ripped from my hand and back to Eli. I didn’t know if it had been Eli or Kafka who’d taken it from me.

  Eli examined the screen and he almost looked happy, smug. “Looks like I missed my check in,” he said. “She’s gone now.”

  “What?” I yelled.

  “Nicholae killed Cias,” Eli said. “I—I couldn’t do anything.”

  Instead of maneuvering through the room to get a better view of the dead body polluting the floor, Kafka parted all the furniture in the room like a stage set change. When he spoke, he sounded matter-of-factly. “You saved me the trouble.”

  “Is that right?” Nicholae asked scornfully.

  “Where is she?!” I demanded.

  “Safe,” Eli said. “Keep your distance. Don’t you dare come any closer.”

  “This is pointless,” Kafka said after an amused moment of watching our argument. “This uprising is a goddamn merry-go-round, a zero sum game. Eli, shoot Oliver. He’ll try to elude the bullet. Distract him first and then take your shot. He won’t be able to commit his full focus on the bullet.”

  I waited for the inevitable gunshot, ready to turn myself into water while also anticipating the distraction as Eli assessed me.

  Eli’s distraction came as an underhanded lob of his cell phone.

  I simply reacted and threw my hands up to catch it. As soon as the thin device reached my hands, I heard the gunshot go off and winced.

  Glass from a track lighting globe exploded and Eli went soaring across the room. The gun fell from his hands and went off again. The stray bullet pierced a painting of a sailboat on a stormy sea hanging on a far wall.

  Before Eli even hit the ground, I felt a gigantic push, like an invisible wall had hit me. My feet skidded helplessly across the floor as I flew toward the back wall of the penthouse suite, toward the row of floor to ceiling windows.

  “Oliver!” Nicholae cried.

  My body pivoted in midair as I approached the wall of glass.

  I was just about to close my eyes so I wouldn’t have to watch my transition from penthouse suite to open-air freefall, when a door appeared before me, swung inward, and saved me from plummeting 25 stories onto a busy street below. Before I passed through the door, I felt Eli’s cell phone ripped from my hand. I dropped into new surroundings—no phone, no gun, no Nicholae, no door.