by Kris Greene
“Nothing is impossible when dealing with the supernatural.”
“But even if there was a chance that the Elif spell had allowed Morbius to procreate, the nymphs are so vain they surely would have killed the child at birth to hide their shame.”
“Yes, they would have sought to hide their shame, but what if they gave the child away as opposed to killing it?” Titus suggested. “Over the centuries, Sanctuary has been home to orphans of many species. Who is to say they would not open their doors to a child such as that, if not to study him then surely to keep him from us? I could only imagine what kind of creature a union of life and death could have birthed. We need to search the ruins of Sanctuary. Where is the shadow master?”
“I am here, my lord,” a voice whispered from the corner. A shadow roughly the shape of a man peeled from the wall and glided across the floor to hover before Titus. The shadow was so weak and faded that Titus could barely see it.
“Yes, if here is what you can call what has become of you. I’m surprised that you are still able to hold any form at all on this side of the plane,” Titus mocked him.
“It has been a task to hold on, but my thirst for revenge will not let me return to the oblivion of the shadows. There will be a reckoning with the puppet, Rogue.” Of all Titus’s agents, the shadow master Moses had come closest to capturing the Nimrod—until Rogue showed up. Moses had encountered spell-casters who could tap into shadow magic, but none with the command that Rogue had.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Rogue.” Titus reflected on the tales he head heard of Rogue and his borrowed eyes. The eyes he had inherited from the shadow demon allowed him to tap the demon’s power, but it also allowed the demon certain benefits of the mortal world. “I had always thought him to be a mercenary working for the highest bidder, but it seems that our little mage has chosen a side in all this. Don’t worry; he won’t live long enough to regret his decision.”
“This I vow,” Moses assured him. “Once I have claimed a new body I will destroy the mage.”
“Your new body will have to wait. I have need of the shadows tonight.”
“Ask of me what you will, my lord, and it will be done,” Moses assured him.
“Gather your minions, go to the estate, and wait for me. Alert no one of your presence until you receive my signal.”
“Right away, Lord Titus,” Moses said, melting back into the shadows.
Riel waited until he was sure Moses had gone before addressing Titus. “Have you chosen the shadow master over me to be your right arm at the gathering?” he asked like a child who had just found out he was no longer his parent’s favorite.
“You need not fear, Riel. Your seat at my table is secure. What I need done requires stealth, which isn’t one of your strongest qualities. Moses will be our trump card in this little game. Now, has everything been taken care of?” Titus asked Riel.
“Yes, Lord Titus. Your messengers began arriving a few hours ago. It was short notice so not everyone whose attendance you requested will be there, but they’ve promised to send emissaries,” Riel told him.
“No matter, there are only a few on the list who are important anyhow. The rest will be addressed when the time comes. Any word from Peter?”
“Yes, my lord. He will not attend the gathering, but will send one of his agents to the estate so you can present yourself and offer proper tribute to New York’s vampire king.”
The mention of the word made Titus’s face twitch. He despised cowing to anyone but Belthon, but it would have been foolish to ignore the protocols of New York’s reigning vampire king. There were many supernatural creatures of high standing in the city, but Peter controlled it.
“And how is the pride of Lamia holding up these days? Holding a city with such a diverse population as New York can’t be easy,” Titus said.
Riel laughed. “With the werewolves at his rear and most of the opposing vampire houses knocking on the other three sides, he isn’t likely to hold it for much longer.”
“Interesting.” Titus rubbed his chin. “Maybe there will be something gained from this meeting after all. What’s the latest with Orden?”
“Still as pissed as ever over the battle last night. Goblins don’t lose face easily. I don’t know if he’s angrier at getting his ass kicked or the fact that he lost his brother in the process,” Riel said.
This brought a broad smile to Titus’s face. “Gilchrest is dead?”
“Don’t know just yet. Seems he was left behind during the goblin’s . . . withdrawal from the battle. Our people said he was taken by the Knights, but I couldn’t tell you whether they offed him or not. If it were me, I’d kill the little bastard.”
“Then it’s fortunate for Gilchrest that the Knights have him and not you. But I see much to be gained from this. The Knights have killed in battle but they hardly have the stomach for murder. If Gilchrest is in any immediate danger then he likely put himself there, but Orden doesn’t know this. Among the goblins, family is the only thing that is sacred,” Titus explained. “They fought for our cause last night out of a sense of duty, but now it’s personal.”
“Sounds to me like we should just step aside and let the goblins have at it,” Riel suggested.
Titus looked at his general. “Can you imagine what would happen if Orden got hold of the Nimrod and the Bishop started whispering dirty little secrets in his ear? No, we will spearhead this effort ourselves.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Titus.” one of the fatigue-clad women approached timidly. “The ladies are in the truck as you instructed.”
“Thank you. My associate, Riel, will escort you to the next location,” Titus said and dismissed her.
“My lord, I thought we were going to the house to prepare for the meeting with Peter,” Riel said.
“Nothing has changed, but there’s something I need you to do before you join me,” Titus said.
“Ask of me what you will,” Riel said confidently, but his gut told him he wasn’t going to like what Titus was about to say.
“I need you to see my cargo safely to the Iron Mountains, while I take Helena to the house to prepare,” Titus began. “When you get there, you will deliver my apologies to Orden for neglecting him and extend a personal invitation to stand at my side when I hold council with New York’s leaders.”
A shiver ran through Riel’s body. No one wanted to venture into the bowels of the Iron Mountains, especially when the goblins had war on their minds—which was most of the time. “Titus, I would never question your orders, but in light of the tensions festering in that place over all this, is it wise for me to go down there?”
Titus turned to Riel. He smiled playfully, but there was murder in his eyes. “Is that fear I detect in your voice, King Maker?”
“Never.” Riel poked his chest out. “I would stand against one thousand goblins if it pleased my lord. What I mean is, they’re already holding Flagg hostage until you honor Orden’s request, so would it be wise to put them in a position to imprison two of your most valued advisors?”
Titus took Riel’s face in his hands and looked him lovingly in the eyes. “We’ve offended our friends and so we must make them comfortable again lest they withdraw their support. Orden will see it as a great sign of trust and respect for me to leave something so precious to me in his kingdom for safekeeping.”
“But why me?” Riel tried to keep his voice from quivering.
“Because you are my general.” Titus slapped him lightly on the cheek. “But you have no need to fear, as I am even willing to send one of my honor guard with you to ensure your safety.” Titus motioned toward the hooded figures who were both watching Riel intently.
“No thanks,” Riel quickly said. “As vicious and unpredictable as that lot is, I might have better luck going in with my Stalkers.”
“Come now, Riel. Who better to safeguard you than a Valkrin?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Asha stood off to Rogue’s right with her hands poised to call a spell when he gave her the word.
They were up against impossible odds, but she had never been one to shy away from a fight. Rogue and Gilgamesh eyed each other from their respective sides of the room. The tension hung in the air between them like a dam that was on the verge of breaking and drowning everyone in reach.
“I’m waiting,” Gilgamesh told Rogue.
Rogue took a deep breath. “Gilgamesh, rightful prince of the dark elves,” he began, using Mesh’s title out of respect, “if you and your men were to try to collect the bounty, and I was fortunate enough to make it out alive, I would regretfully have to tell your uncle who really crashed his Jaguar in 1992.”
Gilgamesh could no longer hold back the smile that had been trying to creep across his face. “You rat bastard, I’ll bet you would,” Gilgamesh said playfully and hugged Rogue. Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief.
“You know him?” Asha asked in disbelief. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought she could see it through her skin.
“We’ve crossed paths a time or two,” Rogue said with a smile.
“A time or two? Johnny, have you forgotten how many fights I got into for trying to stick up for your skinny ass when we were kids?” Gilgamesh reminded him.
Rogue and the prince of the dark elves had a love-hate relationship that went back to when they were kids. Both the dark elves and the mages of Rogue’s house worshiped the death god Thanos, so there was naturally a kinship, but Rogue’s father and Gilgamesh’s uncle were actually good friends. Many afternoons when their elders were out attending to their business, Rogue and Gilgamesh were left behind with the rest of the children. Much like Rogue, Gilgamesh had no patience for the study of the arts as the other children did, so he would find different mischief to keep himself amused. Rogue’s siblings avoided the troublesome elf, but Rogue was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, joining in on his adventures in petty crime. Over the years their friendship would become strained as Rogue pursued law enforcement and Gilgamesh went to work for his uncle. Over the years they would find themselves on opposite sides of the gun, fraying the bond even more, but no matter what they would always be like brothers.
“Well, let’s bore her with the gory details, Mesh. I was serious about needing your help,” Rogue said.
“And I was serious about there being a price on your head,” Gilgamesh shot back. Gilgamesh looked to his people, who were still trying to figure out what was going on. “Teko.” Gilgamesh turned to the swordsman, who was still watching Rogue like a hawk. “Supervise the clean-up of this mess, please. I have to speak with Rogue and his friend in the back.”
Teko nodded and went about giving the clean-up crew their orders. Rogue waited until he was out of earshot to pose his question to Gilgamesh.
“So when did the noble Gammurai become hired guns for scumbags like you, Mesh?” Rogue asked.
“Teko? He’s no hired gun; he’s my brother, here of his own free will,” Gilgamesh told him. “Next to you, he’s the only one I trust enough to watch my back. It’s hard to find a good sidekick these days, Johnny. Hey, do you remember the time when we got invited to the Kremlin and you got drunk and pissed on the ice swan?”
“You took a leak inside the Kremlin?” Asha asked in shock.
“He sure did, and we almost spent the rest of our lives in a Russian prison because of his weak bladder,” Gilgamesh told her. “But we’ll speak of that later. Right now we need to talk about the mess you’re obviously caught up in. Come on.”
Gilgamesh led them to the back, where he made his office. It was a small room with little more than a desk, a couch, and a few chairs, hardly what you would expect from a mob boss and especially not from a prince. Gilgamesh was a man who kept an extremely low profile, preferring to leave the limelight, and the attentions of ambitious assassins, on some of the other underworld players.
Sitting behind the desk was an attractive woman with pecan-colored skin and dark eyes. She was dressed in a cream-colored blazer and brown wool pants that flared at the cuffs, partially covering her brown leather boots. She looked familiar, but Rogue couldn’t quite place her. Standing just behind her, invisible to everyone but Rogue, was a ghostly figure. He was leaning over and whispering something into the woman’s ear, but she ignored him, opting to watch Rogue watching her. When the mage examined her more closely, he could see the swirls of black and gray in her color.
Tamalla answered the question on his face. “Spare yourself the trouble, Mr. Rogue. I’m a clairvoyant.”
Gilgamesh made the introductions. “Rogue, this is Tamalla P. Hardy.”
“You’re that chick who talks to the dead, right?” Asha asked. She remembered hearing her name whispered by Dutch on more than one occasion.
Tamalla smirked. “I do more than talk to the dead, little girl.”
“Yes, Tamalla is a broker of sorts. When there is business to be done between the living and the dead, she’s the one who makes it happen,” Gilgamesh explained.
Rogue raised his eyebrow behind his shades. “You planning on raising something, Mesh?” Like the mages of Thanos, the royals of the dark elves dabbled in death magic. Though not on as grand a scale as the mages, they had been known to cause quite a bit of trouble with their practices.
“Not unless it’s your troublesome ass, Johnny,” Gilgamesh told him. “I don’t know who you’ve managed to piss off this time, but you’ve really stepped in a pile of it.”
“Is that why you’ve brought her here? Come to barter for my soul, have you?” Rogue asked sarcastically.
Tamalla rolled her eyes. “I can’t negotiate with you for something you don’t really own, puppet. If you must know, I have business with the Black Hand and it just so happens to do with the little scavenger hunt you’re on. Your do-gooder tales are legendary, Mr. Rogue, but this time you might’ve let your sense of nobility write a check that your ass can’t cash.”
“What the hell is she talking about, Mesh?” Rogue asked his friend. Gilgamesh reached in his desk drawer and dropped a sheet of paper on the surface for Rogue to examine. As he read the caption under a distorted picture of himself, Asha peered over his shoulder, trying to make heads or tails of the strange writing.
“Who wrote this, a two-year-old?” Asha frowned at the paper.
Rogue rolled his shoulder and nudged her back. “Unless you’re fluent in the elfish tongue you wouldn’t understand it.” He read the wanted poster twice and shook his head. Rogue spread his hands over the paper and whispered the words of power. The poster shivered before crumbling into a pile of dust on the desk. “So two million is the going price for my head, huh?”
“If you ask me I think they’re offering too much. I know some guys who would whack you for far less than that, my friend. You’ve built quite a list of enemies over the years working on the other side of the fence with the humans,” Gilgamesh told him.
“So who’s the lucky candidate they’re sending to die?” Rogue asked.
Gilgamesh shrugged. “I don’t know yet. They wouldn’t dare approach the Hand for the contract, and most of the Dragon Lords have taken to higher ground to wait this thing out. For the kind of mess it’s looking like you’re caught up in, it could be anybody—”
“Including the Sheut,” Tamalla interjected. “The wraiths have been up to something since this all started and nobody is quite sure what. What I do know is that something passed from the Dead Lands through to this side of the plane, something that wasn’t a native of the Dead Lands.”
“And you think this something is coming for me?” Rogue asked.
“I couldn’t tell you who or what it’s coming for, but it’s coming for something and my intuition tells me that your little friends and whatever it is will cross paths before it’s all said and done,” Tamalla told him.
“Does it say who placed the price on his head?” Asha asked. Gilgamesh just stared at her.
“Who dropped the bread on me, Mesh?” Rogue asked.
“The same guy who sent these out.” Gilgamesh tossed an envelop
e on the table. On the broken seal Rouge could make out the mark of Belthon.
“What is it?” Rogue asked, not even sure he wanted to know.
“It’s an invitation to Raven Wood.”
Asha scratched her head. “Raven Wood? Isn’t that the estate of that Italian designer?”
“In name only. Raven Wood is the New York headquarters for Max Titus,” Rogue informed her. “Mesh, what’s all this about?”
“A gathering. All the underworld bigwigs in the tri-state are supposed to be there talking about something very heavy and very hush-hush. Rogue, what are you tied up in?” Gilgamesh asked seriously.
“Something more dangerous than he truly understands,” Tamalla offered. “Mr. Rogue, Titus has got a major hard-on for this kid you’re trying to protect, and the thing he’s carrying. He’s on the trail of the Nimrod and he’ll stop at nothing to get it, including turning the leaders of the supernatural world against you.”
“He wouldn’t be the first idiot to try to kill me and I doubt he’ll be the last,” Rogue said sarcastically. “Titus is powerful indeed, but he still has a shitload of enemies. Even if he manages to sway a few of the more unsavory supernatural leaders, those loyal to the light will never go along with it.”
“Which is why he hasn’t extended the invitation to them,” Tamalla added. “The others would either seek to claim the Nimrod for themselves or destroy it rather than have Belthon as the undisputed ruler of all. If he can get his hands on it before any of the other elders wise up to the Nimrod’s presence, he can blindside them when he stages his little coup. Mr. Rogue, as long as you protect this boy you’re going to be a walking payday.”
“And what do you stand to gain by giving me the heads-up about what Titus is planning?” Rogue asked.
“Monetarily, nothing.” Tamalla absently rubbed the scar around her neck where Titus had marked her. “I’m just one of the few who thinks that Titus coming to an untimely end is a far better option than hell on earth. Just something to think about.”
Gilgamesh gave Tamalla a disapproving look. “Johnny, these humans still don’t get the fact that things like the Nimrod aren’t meant to be controlled. The last time they poked their noses into something of this magnitude it let the likes of Belthon come over to this side of the fence, and you mean to tell me that they still haven’t learned?” He shook his head sadly. “Johnny, leave these people to their business and come stay with us until it’s sorted out. You’ll be safe with the Hand.”