by Lynn Viehl
Samuel slipped his arm around her waist, and after a moment she rested her head against his shoulder. “How much time do we have before you could conceive?”
“None. It’s not like the pill,” she added. “Once it’s out, I’m unprotected.”
“So you could be pregnant now.”
“If I am, I won’t test positive for a couple more days. And if we keep having sex …” She shook her head.
Samuel knew beneath the anger she was frightened, enough that she might consider taking desperate measures. “Honey, listen to me. If you discover that you are carrying my child, I want to know. Before you decide to do anything about it, please talk to me.”
She looked puzzled for a moment, and then her expression filled with disgust. “My God. You think I’d abort our baby without telling you? What kind of woman do you think I am?”
The tightness in his chest eased. “I didn’t mean—”
“No one has the right to force us to have a child,” she snapped. “By doing this they’ve violated both of us. But if there is going to be a baby, Sam—and there probably will be—then it belongs to us, not them. We have the responsibility, and we decide what to do about it, together.”
He didn’t mean to say it, but the words spilled from him. “I want our child to live.”
“So do I.” She gave him a tired smile. “Now go talk to the friendly natives, and find a way to get us the hell off this island.”
Drew sat in one corner of the cage and watched a beetle creeping down one of the bars. Dusty threads from an old spider’s web clung to its legs and wound around its dark green carapace, hampering its movements. He reached out as it slipped and caught it in the palm of his hand.
“Nothing to eat down here, pal,” he said, and he gently freed it from the webbing. “Not yet, anyway.”
With no windows, the only light in the room came from the single bulb hanging overhead, but Drew’s Takyn abilities included an acute sense of night and day, and told him the sun would be setting in a few minutes. His imagination kept bouncing between two images: the dolphin tattooed on Gracie’s forearm, and the bruised wounds on Conchita’s neck.
Dinnertime.
To build even a small replica of an Aztec temple required serious money, as did collecting artifacts made from pure gold and kidnapping Americans right off the street. Gracie had called the mystery man “the master,” and claimed he could read her mind. It all added up to one big, ugly reality that Drew wasn’t sure he wanted to face.
“If you see Samuel, tell him I’m sorry I screwed up,” he told the beetle as he set it on the floor. “But don’t mention it was because of a girl. That’ll make me look like a real chump.”
“Andrew, it’s time.”
He looked up to see Gracie unlocking the door to his cage. Her face appeared pale and drawn, but there were no marks on her neck. But then, why did he care if there were? “For what?”
“The master is here.” She opened the door. “He wishes to see you.”
He eyed the two armed men standing behind her. “And if I refuse?”
“Then they will hit you and drag you upstairs,” she said flatly.
He stood and stepped out, recoiling a little as she took hold of his arm. “I’m not going to make a run for it,” he lied.
“The master would never let you escape.” She pressed her forearm against his and curled her fingers over his palm, and that was when he felt the length of the blade under her sleeve, and the tingle that told him it was made of solid copper. “You must accept this if you want to live.”
Drew moved closer, using his body to hide her arm from the guards. “So it’s do or die, huh?”
“You will have only one chance to do the right thing.” She fiddled with her hair, dropping her hand long enough to slip the copper dagger from her sleeve to his before she moved ahead of him. “I hope you will.”
Drew dropped his arm to his side as he used his ability to reshape the copper blade into a cuff of metal wrapped around his wrist. The leather-and-wood hilt he slipped into his pocket as they made their way into a wide, dark room lit by burning torches.
Stanton had installed a shallow indoor pool in the center of the room and edged it with a deck of tiny, brightly colored tiles that formed an intricate mosaic of a flowering garden. Reflected on the surface of the pool was a wall made up of curved, shallow recesses. Only a dozen or so were illuminated by built-in lights, but those held small, primitive ceramic statues of male and female figures, each with the head of an animal.
Drew saw Stanton behind a sheer curtain at the other end of the pool, where he was handing an ornate goblet to a large, shadowy figure sitting on an odd-looking bench. The Englishman spoke in a low voice to the shadow before he emerged and dismissed the guards.
“Mr. Riordan.” Stanton offered him a chilly smile. “Our most gracious master has decided to forgive you for your transgressions against him, and will permit you to rejoin your brothers and sisters. From this day he expects you to serve him with the love and the loyalty of a devoted son.”
“He does.” Drew glanced at the curtain. “Maybe you should tell him that I’m an only child, I already have a terrific father, and … oh, yeah. I don’t serve bloodsucking monsters.”
Stanton scowled, but before he could speak, a deep, rasping laugh echoed around the room.
“This one has a bold heart,” the laughing voice said in heavily accented English. The figure lumbered to his feet, sweeping aside the curtain with a flick of his hand. “Come closer, boy. See what the beautiful path makes of a god.”
At first Drew thought the flickering of the torches made the peculiar patterns of light and shadow on the towering body approaching him. The man appeared to have painted his skin white and black, and bedecked himself with so much heavy jewelry that his movements sounded metallic. Then Drew saw that his skin wasn’t painted, and the gold on his body wasn’t jewelry.
The gold was his body.
What might have once been human stood nearly seven feet tall and wore an open white linen robe over a black loincloth. His legs and arms were partly covered in pale, dead-looking flesh that had turned black around the rough gold that formed his joints and most of his muscle. From collarbones to waist no skin was visible; his torso appeared to be solid metal. Gold also slashed across his face, covering one eye and bisecting his nose and one corner of his mouth. The hair growing from his scalp fell around his ghastly face in long, two-toned strands that were black hair at the roots and then became thin gold wire.
Drew expected to smell decay from the exposed dead tissue, but the only scent that came from the master was hot and acrid, the way metal smelled when it overheated.
Suddenly the copper Gracie had slipped him felt too tight around his wrist. “How did this happen to you?”
“Not easily.” The bottom half of the master’s ravaged face split to show two rows of golden teeth. “You are not afraid? Most men cower when they look upon me.”
“I can cringe and whimper with the best of them,” Drew said, “but I’m more interested in finding out what’s happened to my friends. Did you abduct them? Are they here?”
“Mr. Taske and Ms. Marena have joined the master’s other children,” Stanton said. “We’ve seen to it that they now have a very happy and comfortable life together. Don’t you agree, Agraciana?”
“Yes.” Gracie, who stood pale and silent beside Drew, looked at the floor. “The master is very good to us.”
“So good he has to kidnap people to get them to join the family?” Drew looked into the golden eye of the living statue. “What’s really going on? Are you keeping them somewhere so you can feed on their blood? Is that how you’re able to live in this condition?”
The master laughed again. “I am a god, boy. When Cortés realized he could not end my life, he had his men dig deep beneath the temple, and there put me in the ground. Five hundred years I lay trapped in the earth, waiting for my children to come for me. But I was forgotten.”
> “I found him under a temple some workers uncovered in Mexico City,” Stanton said, his voice filled with pride. “It was my blood that brought the master back to life.”
Drew had never been much of a history buff, but even he remembered the name Cortés. “So you were an Aztec.”
Gracie drew in a quick breath, and the master’s smile faded.
“This is the last king of the Aztecs, Mr. Riordan.” Stanton gave Drew a pitying look. “This is Motecuhzoma.”
“That was the past,” the master said, making a dismissive gesture. “Now I am Energúmeno, returned to life and restored to my people. I have found my children, and saved them from the dogs who would butcher them. With my protection and care they will be safe, and in return, they will give me back my House of Eagles.”
“The Eagles were once the king’s warriors,” Stanton explained. “They devoted their lives to battle in his name.”
Drew’s stomach turned. “Harvesting their DNA to make your Eagle soldiers is a waste of time. My ex-boss has been trying to do the same thing for years, and he still isn’t able to make it work.”
“We’re not cutting them up the way Mr. Genaro does, Mr. Riordan,” Stanton said. “We’re allowing them to reproduce naturally. This guarantees that their offspring will inherit their unique attributes.”
Drew’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying that you’re breeding them? Like farm animals?”
The Englishman shrugged. “In a few weeks the first child will be born, at which time it will be brought to the master to be trained as its parents were. As soon as the rest of the women give birth, we will take their children, switch their partners, and begin again. Within fifty years we will rebuild the House of Eagles with an army of superhuman warriors, ready to fight.”
“To fight for what?”
“My kingdom,” Energúmeno said.
“Our warriors will take back the land stolen by Cortés and those who came after him,” Stanton said. “When Mexico has been purged of outsiders and interlopers, then he who was Motecuhzoma will resume his rule. Your sons and daughters will be among those who restore our king to his throne, Mr. Riordan. They will change history.”
Digging up the rotting Aztec vampire had probably driven Stanton crazy, Drew decided, and abandoned the idea of reasoning with him. “Look, Your Majesty,” he said to Energúmeno, “I’m sorry about what was done to you. No one should be made to suffer… .” He gestured toward the vampire’s grotesque body. “But this happened hundreds of years ago, and the men who invaded your kingdom are all dead. The world has changed and moved on. We’re civilized now. No one goes around conquering other countries.”
“Indeed.” Energúmeno seemed amused. “I have been watching man since I was set free, and it seems that very little has changed since my first rule. You have better weapons and larger armies, but you still battle over land and power. You invade distant lands and kill those who oppose you. I have watched these wars being fought on your television. CNN.”
Drew felt frustrated. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“No, boy. When it comes to war, it is always very simple. What you take belongs to you.” He made a sweeping gesture. “This land and its people are mine.”
“No matter who you were, the Mexican government won’t hand their country over to you,” Drew warned. “They have their own military, and they can call on the American government for help. Your ‘children’ may have powerful abilities, but they’re no match for the kind of weaponry used today. Don’t start a war you can never win.”
“We’ve already begun, and we are winning,” Stanton said smugly. “The master has brought all of the major drug traffickers in Mexico under his control, and is using them to eliminate their smaller competitors and take over key territories. Doubtless you’ve seen the news reports about how vicious the street fighting has become over the last few years. The effectiveness of our campaign has convinced authorities on both sides of the border to virtually abandon these regions. Once the police and the foreigners retreat, our patrols see to it that they don’t return.”
“You can live the life of a prince, boy,” Energúmeno said. “Or I can feed on you until your veins run dry. How will it be?”
The thought of Mexico being gradually turned back into the Aztec empire seemed as improbable as America handing its states back to the British. But an hour ago Drew would never have believed anyone, human or otherwise, could survive being buried alive for five centuries. Stanton couldn’t pull off this war on his own; without Energúmeno, he would be powerless. And while Drew had never used his talent to kill, he knew he couldn’t permit the vampire to force the Takyn to breed his new army.
“Answer the master,” the Englishman snapped.
The dark kyn are difficult, but not impossible, to destroy, Matthias had once told him. Some of the old texts claim that a dark metal is poisonous to them, and that complete decapitation will kill them.
“I wouldn’t mind being treated like a prince.” The copper band around Drew’s wrist grew warm as he used his ability to fold it over and over, increasing the metal’s density as much as he could before stretching it out into a razor-edged, foot-long blade. “Do I get to pick out my own princess?”
Gracie turned and slapped his face, at the same time giving him a desperate look. He nodded slightly and let her shove him away from her. As he pretended to stumble toward Energúmeno, the copper blade tore through his sleeve before whirling across the space between them.
The Aztec shouted as he threw up his arm and the blade buried itself in a section of decaying flesh. Yellow-streaked blood poured from the wound as Drew pulled the blade back and brought it around, this time sending it toward the vampire’s neck.
As Stanton shouted and lunged at Drew, Energúmeno moved in a blur of motion, seizing Gracie and using her body as a shield for his own.
“Drop the blade.” Golden knuckles bulged as the vampire clamped his hand over Gracie’s mouth. “Or I will tear off her head.”
Drew knew that if he didn’t act now, he would probably never get another chance. He also knew he wasn’t fast enough to take off Energúmeno’s head before the vampire did the same to Gracie.
Logic dictated his choice, but love made it for him.
The copper blade hung motionless for a moment before Drew released it from his control and it fell to the stone floor.
Energúmeno heaved Gracie at Stanton, who ripped the scarf from her throat and stuffed it into her mouth. As he pinned her arms behind her he said, “I will kill them for you, master. You can watch as I drain their blood and feed their carcasses to the fish.”
“This wasn’t Agraciana’s idea,” Drew said. “I used my ability and forced her to do it.”
Gracie uttered a muffled shriek as the vampire grabbed the front of Drew’s shirt, lifting him off his feet and spattering the front of his shirt with the odd-colored blood dripping from his wound.
“This one has value to me,” Energúmeno said. “His sons will become my personal guard, and his daughters will serve as my concubines.” He glanced at Gracie. “Since he has already chosen his woman, she can bear them for me.” He threw Drew to the ground and stepped over him. “Take them to the island.”
Samuel slipped out of the villa just after sunset to meet with the other men, and while Charlie was tempted to follow him, she knew she had to keep up an act for the security cameras. So she tidied their bedroom, cleaned and sterilized the test materials she had used in the treatment room, and then moved down to the kitchen to start making a vegetable stew for their evening meal.
Giving herself busywork didn’t stop her from brooding over the possibility that she was pregnant. Some women claimed they knew the moment they conceived, but Charlie didn’t feel any different from the way she had before they were abducted. It was also the wrong time of month for her to be fertile; her MC always ran like clockwork. According to her mental calendar she wouldn’t ovulate for another week.
I should have told him tha
t, she thought as she added some chopped tomato to the pot of boiling water. But then I wouldn’t know how he felt about having a baby with me.
Children had always been in her plans for the future, but only as part of her professional career. Ob-gyn had always been Charlie’s calling, and she had spent all of her spare time studying and acquiring the certifications and licensing she needed to go into practice as a midwife. Seeing patients through the long, uncomfortable months of pregnancy and helping them bring their babies into the world was the kind of work she had wanted to do since the very first infant she had delivered.
Sharing in those small miracles would also make up for the fact that there would never be any of her own.
The experiments performed on Charlie had saddled her with an unwanted ability and an irreversible genetic taint; she had always considered it a moral imperative to ensure that she remained childless. Being Takyn had also ruled out the possibility of adoption; as long as there were men like Genaro eager to exploit her gift, any child she brought into her home would never be safe.
Making those decisions had been wrenching, but had also given Charlie a sense of security. Now Segundo had stolen that from her.
That was what Samuel could never understand: just how deeply violated Charlie felt. Assuming she was still protected had made becoming Samuel’s lover a little easier for her; discovering her IUD had been removed had brought everything crashing down on her head. If she hadn’t already conceived, every time they had sex the odds that she would become pregnant would multiply exponentially.
And we will be having sex, she reminded herself viciously. Every day, or Segundo hands me over to the guards.
A hissing sound brought her back to the reality of her stew boiling over the sides of the pot. Quickly she turned down the heat and reached for the paper towels. Her hand faltered as fear and despair spread through her thoughts, as black as a cloud of ink in clear water.
She couldn’t have a baby on this island. Not against her will. Not knowing that the moment it was born Segundo would take it away from her. Nor could she abort her own baby, or kill it after it was born.