by T. G. Ayer
There was a fine line between devotion and hatred.
Langcourt waited until the genealogist had finished his notations. “How long will that take?”
Startled, the man’s face paled and he rose to his feet. “I’ll get started on it right away, Sire. I should have the preliminary results to you in two days at most.”
As he bowed and began to back out of the room, Langcourt said, “Make it one day.”
Roquefort’s eyes widened with shock. Langcourt suspected that the man understood now that the difficulty of his investigation had just grown exponentially with the reduction in time frame.
But, he merely blinked, nodded and bowed. “Yes, Sire,” he said as he opened the door and let himself out.
Langcourt seated himself in his armchair and steepled his fingers. The deep soft cushioning of the two-hundred-year-old chair encased his body.
It had belonged to French King Louis, taken from his palace at Versailles when Langcourt’s great-grandfather had helped raid the residence during the French Revolution. A bloodstain marred the old leather beneath the left arm of the chair.
King’s blood.
His great-grandfather hadn’t had it removed, instead reveling in the fact that he’d helped spill the blood of a monarch.
Even then, the Langcourt line had perfected the art of exacting submission. Nothing could stop a Langcourt from getting what he wanted.
Not even the gods.
Chapter 9
The flight to the West Coast was bumpy, uncomfortable and nauseating. Thankfully Max had heeded Marcus’s advice and downed the disgustingly bitter melissa herb concoction he’d bought at Rhea’s Herbal Store on Antonius Avenue. He’d also taken some dittany pills to calm his nerves in order to concentrate on his files.
The long flight should have been conducive to work, had he not been afflicted with airsickness every time he stepped aboard a plane. The Wright X720 aircraft was one of the first mass-produced planes and from all the bouncing around it did, Max was beginning to wonder if one day it would come apart in the clouds, and expire from age mid-flight.
Owned by FAPA, at least the plane was well-stocked and furnished for work. But, despite the comfortable seats and desks, Max couldn’t concentrate. His mind went back to his last visit with Aurelia.
Her handmaiden had delighted in making him and the other attendees wait outside in the courtyard, with the hot sun beating down on his uncovered head.
A handmaiden who couldn’t exactly be called a maiden, considering Mara herself was all of ninety years old and more shriveled than the tray of dates she’d offered him.
When at last she’d emerged, her expression had been filled with somber sadness as she’d informed them of the Pythia’s death.
Max had asked to have a moment with her remains, and while he’d paid his final respects he’d expressed his deep sadness at the old woman’s lack of descendants.
At the time, he’d thought the handmaiden’s sudden bark of laughter just a bitter reaction to her mistress’s death, but now, with the possibility of another Pythia coming into power, Max began to wonder if that laugh had indicated she’d known something he didn’t.
He shook the memory off, ignoring the cold chill that settled in his chest. He’d grown fond of Aurelia, and the Oracle had taken a liking to him. He wondered now what FAPA would do without her visions to help guide them.
She’d saved entire cities with advance warnings of volcanic activity, effluent poisoning, and once even a mass reaction to a government-led leprosy immunization project that had killed two percent of the people who’d received the vaccine. Not that Max’s boss had ever properly appreciated the Pythia’s priceless help. There had even been occasional grumbles about the duration and cost of Max’s visits.
That vaccination disaster had needed weeks of cleanup and tons of paperwork. It had been very difficult to keep the truth from the press and public. Max suspected the authorities would have preferred it if the Pythia had kept that particular insight to herself.
Odd that the old woman had never mentioned a secret Pythia descendant who could take her place. Did she even know about Allegra?
Or was Max now grasping at straws in the hope that a new Oracle existed, because a future without the Pythia’s guidance was indeed a hopeless and dire situation?
He glanced out of the nearest window, staring out at the vineyards, villas and vast forests covering the land. Perhaps this visit would prove fruitful.
Perhaps Allegra Damascus would offer a hope he’d thought lost to the people of the world.
Chapter 10
Allegra paced along the kitchen floor, staring down at the gold-veined tiles, yet seeing nothing.
The heat of the morning was intense, and the back of her thin shirt clung to her skin. She’d thrown on a pair of blue cotton shorts and a singlet, the weather demanding the lightest, and as little clothing as possible.
She’d been tempted to swim, the cool waters calling her. But the voice from the pool haunted her, whispering in her ears, repeating the words over and over.
It all depends on you, daughter. Persevere, child. Do not fail. Do not let them discourage you, child. Stay the path. It all depends on you.
She stopped in her tracks, her bare feet slapping against the marble. She dragged her fingers through her hair, pulled it into a coil at the top of her head and spun toward the kitchen. But before she could lose herself in preparing breakfast, even though she wasn’t in the least bit hungry, the phone rang.
The loud jangling echoed inside the house and jarred Allegra’s nerves even more.
She rushed to the phone, irritated at the intrusion onto her peace. Then she paused, wanting to laugh. What peace?
She lifted the receiver off the cradle. “Allegra Damascus.” She’d dropped automatically into professional client mode and was grateful she hadn’t barked at the caller the way she’d wanted to.
“Hello, honey. It’s Gladys.”
“Gladys. Hi.” Allegra suppressed a tired sigh.
Allegra had told the agency not to call her and yet here they were still calling. But she wasn’t the type of person who could easily decline to help others in need. It was one of the reasons she’d avoided speaking to anyone from Nike. Allegra knew she’d give in eventually.
The exhaustion must have fed into her tone as Gladys said, “I’m truly sorry Allegra, but we’ve received a call from a particularly insistent patient. I’m really not certain what to do with him. He is relentless.” Gladys spoke in a rush, her words tumbling out as if she was afraid Allegra would put the phone down on her before she finished.
Not that Allegra would do such a thing.
When Allegra didn’t respond, Gladys continued, her voice lilting the tiniest bit. “It’s a Mr Vissarion. He wants to see you. And only you. I told him you were not taking clients at the moment, but he asked that you make an exception just this once.”
“Can’t take no for an answer?”
“Apparently not.” Allegra could picture Gladys rolling her eyes.
Allegra sighed. “I’m sorry, Gladys. He’s just going to have to deal with it like the rest of my clients. I just can’t see anyone right now. It’s best if he seeks treatment elsewhere.”
Gladys sighed too, and Allegra felt sorry for her.
“I’m sorry to put you in this position Gladys, but really it is for the best. I have a personal emergency that I need to deal with. I have to figure this out before I can devote my full attention to our clients.”
“I understand, honey.” Gladys did sound as if she understood. Her tone was calming, soothing, something Allegra needed very badly. “I’ll make him understand. He’ll be upset, I think.”
“I feel bad having to refuse, Gladys. But I just can’t.”
“It’s okay, honey. You take care of yourself,” said Gladys. Allegra could picture her smiling, the dimples in her rounded cheeks deepening.
Allegra rang off and headed back to her computer, impatient that it was taki
ng so long to wake up. She bit her lip as she listened to it clank and whir, the base vibrating as the fan worked to keep its electronic innards cool.
Allegra knew little about the device, just enough to be grateful she could afford one. They’d been out for a few years, constantly upgraded, new ones already outdated the moment you bought them.
As clanky as they were, the latest introduction of elektroweb search engines, and the constantly expanding documentation and information they provided, had made their bulk and ugliness worth it.
Now, she stared at the screen as she brought up lists of contagious diseases and began to write down symptoms in order to cross check them yet again against her visions.
An hour passed and Allegra found she couldn’t concentrate any longer. She’d ended up with pages of research on diseases, lists of symptoms; coughing, sneezing, rashes, boils, skin infection, fevers, sweats.
Too bad that there was no clue to the likely geographic origins – these symptoms had occurred in some combination so often, on all continents, that she needed to find some other line of research, if only she could think of one.
Allegra’s neck hurt from bending over, her fingers were cramped from writing and her ink was about to run out on her.
She wiped her quill-pen on a piece of paper and rested it on its cradle before heading to wash her hands. The ink in the device had begun to leak and always stained her fingers but it was unavoidable. She’d have loved to have used the text document on the computer, but it was inconvenient to shut the browser down each time she wanted to make a note.
The new technology was impressive, but it still needed work.
She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, folded it neatly and hung it on the handle of the oven door. Her investigation was taking too long. She’d made so little progress that she felt like tearing her hair out.
A ball of frustrated energy was building inside her, slowly increasing in intensity, and Allegra was afraid that it would soon explode and she’d lose her mind. As it was, she remained afraid of touching anyone.
She was so afraid that she’d entertained, for a brief moment, the fear that at some point touching her own body would provide a vision of her own death.
Thankfully, as yet, she hadn’t had that experience.
She’d prefer never to see her own fate.
She shuddered, pushing the thought away as she grabbed her running shoes and socks which had been sitting beside the threshold to the patio. Slipping them on, she headed out across the garden toward the rickety wooden staircase her father had erected. The stairs ran down the cliffside, providing direct access to the private beach below.
A run would do her good.
Chapter 11
As soon as Allegra’s toes touched the warm ground, she set off in a sprint, her feet flying as she kicked up the sand and sent it spraying behind her. Running had always helped her to think. It did well to maintain her health and her figure too, so she wasn’t complaining.
It was mid-afternoon; the worst of the heat was gone, but here on the beach there was always a refreshing breeze. She gulped in the sea air greedily.
She felt the burn in her lungs, in her calves, as she ran and reveled in the heat of it.
At Allegra’s left, the waves crested and hit the shore, teasing her feet as they came ever closer. The wet sand would have been cool beneath her bare soles, and she wished she’d run barefooted. But this wasn’t a saunter down the beach.
Allegra meant business.
Lost in the run, her mind was at peace. If only for a few precious minutes.
The beach ended up ahead as the shore curved into a rocky headland. Allegra’s beach was more a cove than anything, but the length was sufficient for a good run.
At the rocky outcropping, she stopped and caught her breath, running in place as she cooled off. She extended her right foot, then bent low, feeling the warm pull of her hamstring.
As she stretched the various muscles, she turned her head to look at the beach, her eyes settling on the figure of the man walking toward her.
Broad-shouldered, tall and muscular, his skin glowed a rich gold. From a distance he was Herakles, striding forth with a purpose.
Dressed in dark slacks, a light blue long sleeved shirt open at the neck, he exuded an energy that Allegra felt even from so many feet away.
She continued to stretch as he drew closer and she liked what she saw even more, now that she could appreciate the strength of his jawline, the breadth of his shoulders, and the intensity in his gray eyes. Eyes not too many shades different from Allegra’s own almost-silver ones.
He gave her a quick smile as he came to a stop in front of her, but all Allegra did was watch him warily. Not matter how good he looked, he could still be a creep, or a killer.
Or both.
“Citizen Allegra Damascus?”
Allegra’s expression closed even more. This was no random run-in. “Who’s asking?” she asked carefully.
His returning smile was rueful. “I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you.”
“Mr Vissarion?” Allegra’s stomach tightened.
This client had wanted to see her that badly he’d come looking for her at her home? Far too stalker for her. She was beginning to reconsider her opinion on his attractiveness.
He looked about to speak, but Allegra cut him off, her tone wary. “How did you find out where I lived? The agency isn’t supposed to give out that information.”
Gladys was going to get an earful.
Vissarion shook his head. “The agency was extremely protective of your privacy. They refused to provide me with any information. I obtained your home address from the local FAPA division.”
“They gave you my details?” This was going from bad to worse. The federal agents were giving her information out to all and sundry now?
He smiled again and despite her distrust Allegra felt heat coil deep within her core. It wasn’t a good sign to be so attracted to a potential stalker.
Especially when he’d used subterfuge and lies to get to her. Not to mention accosting her without prior warning.
He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Agent Kendall had little choice. There isn’t much any officer can do when a superior asks him for information. Though, in this case, all the details were in the case file.”
“Superior officer?” Heat bloomed in Allegra’s head. Mr Hot-and-Sexy was a damned fed.
He pulled a wallet from his pocket and flipped it open to reveal a FAPA ID card. Maximus Vissarion, FAPA Commander Adamstown Capital Division of FAPA.
Okay, so he really was the boss man. He seemed remarkably genial for someone with such a senior position, and all the way from the capital at that. Still didn’t change the fact that he’d tracked her down like a stalker, going so far as to lie to her agency.
Allegra shook her head, her nerves a discordant bundle in her gut. “I’m sorry. Commander Vissarion. I have nothing to say. As you mentioned, everything is already in that report of yours, and since you’ve read that you already know all the details.”
She gave him a polite smile, then set off down the beach at a slow jog. She’d wanted to sprint off at top speed, but she suspected the man was athletic enough considering all those well-placed muscles.
There would be no reason to run off like a frightened female.
Footsteps thudded beside her. Allegra looked right and found herself staring into stone-grey eyes again. He kept pace with her smoothly, looking at ease, even in his most inappropriate pants and shirt and leather shoes.
“Please, Citizen Damascus. It’s vitally important that I speak with you.”
Allegra stopped in her tracks so suddenly that she had to stiffen her leg muscles so she didn't fall over her feet. “Do you not get it? I said I don’t want to speak to anyone. Not you, not FAPA, not anyone. Can you people not respect that?”
Having so recently encountered the arrogant FAPA agents, Allegra suspected that Maximus Vissarion would be more of the same once he
got to his interrogation.
Vissarion stopped beside her and simply shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t leave. This is far more important than you or me, or our personal needs.”
Now that he was looming over her, Allegra took in his size, realizing for the first time how big he really was. Allegra wasn’t a small woman but this man rose way over six feet.
She took a step back, glanced at the long stretch of beach, her peripheral vision shifting over the clifftop houses, the residents too far away to respond to a cry for help.
She had her training, and could probably do him some well-placed damage, but FAPA agents were known for their military training. He’d be hard to fight off no matter how talented she was.
“I have nothing to say to you. So please leave me alone.” She made a last-ditch effort to get rid of him, even while knowing it was unlikely to work.
As she backed away, Vissarion closed in on her, not allowing her to put any distance between them. Her heart hammered against her ribs now, no longer with attraction for the man.
Fear rippled through her limbs as he advanced on her.
When Vissarion reached out to grab hold of her hand she instinctively cried out. A low thud echoed beside her as if something heavy had landed on the sand to her left.
When she turned to check if Vissarion had brought backup with him, she let out a terrified shriek.
A huge boar, all bristles and tusks and stamping hooves, shuddered beside her, living flames flaring within great obsidian eyes.
He lowered his head, stamping his foot, giving every sign that he was about to charge the commander.
“What in Hades is going on?” whispered Allegra, staring in shock from the boar to the man, and then back again. She was too terrified to take her eyes off the creature in case he decided that she’d be his next meal.
But the gigantic beast seemed far more interested in the commander than Allegra. Strangely enough, she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about seeing Vissarion torn to shreds, despite his would-be stalker status.