by I. T. Lucas
It had the opposite effect on Kian. “Tell me about the incoming reinforcements and what is their plan of action,” he barked.
In the silence that followed, the Doomer’s internal conflict was barely perceptible on his hard face, but in the end, his eyes narrowed on Kian as he decided to speak his piece. “I don’t give a fuck if you believe me or not, but just for the record… the set of rules I’ve been operating under before meeting Amanda no longer applies.”
“Noted,” Kian bit out.
Dalhu nodded. “I wasn’t told how many are coming, but if I were to guess, at least fifty, but no more than a hundred. And with a contingent this big, someone higher up on the chain of command will be leading them.”
Andrew pulled out his phone and began recording, even though he had no doubt he could later retrieve everything from security. But having his own would save him a trip, not to mention having to deal with whatever paperwork was required to obtain copies. “Can you make a list of probable candidates for the leader position? There shouldn’t be too many at that level.”
“Probably, but what good will it do?”
“The names alone, none. But compiling a file for each of the top players in the game, including a physical description, a set of attributes, a style of command, and any other information you can think of is a critical first step.”
Kian cast Andrew an approving look. “You really know your shit, don’t you?”
“This is elementary. Information is the most valuable asset there is, and you should always gather as much of it as you can about your adversaries, as well as your allies. True?”
“True,” the Doomer agreed. “Give me a pen and some paper and I’ll give it my best shot.”
Kian again glanced at Andrew’s motionless foot before returning his eyes to the Doomer. “I’ll do better than that, I’ll give you a laptop.”
“A laptop will be great, but I still need a pen and paper if you want me to sketch their portraits for you.”
Andrew snorted. “No offense to your doodling skill, my man, but I’d rather have you describe them to a forensic artist.”
The Doomer seemed more amused than offended. “Anyone have a piece of paper and a pen?”
“I think I have something…” Anandur pushed to his feet and pulled out a folded green piece of paper from his back pocket, then straightened what turned out to be some sort of flyer and handed it to Dalhu. “You can use the back.”
Andrew rolled his eyes but produced a pen from his jacket’s inside pocket. “Here, knock yourself out.”
Dalhu placed the flyer face down on the coffee table and ran his hand over it a couple of times to smooth out the creases, then went to work.
Anandur crouched next to him, while Kian and Andrew leaned forward, all three observing the image Dalhu’s fast pen strokes were creating.
“I’ll be damned…” Anandur was the first to say something as Amanda’s face took shape on paper, and Andrew was tempted to echo the sentiment.
It was brilliant, and not only because the depiction was strikingly true. Amanda’s spirit—her playful haughtiness, the stubborn tilt of her chin, the shadow of old pain in her eyes—it was all there, black pen-strokes on green paper as if the Doomer had glimpsed her soul.
“What? Did I get something wrong?” Dalhu voice was hesitant as he lifted his head to look at Anandur.
“No, nothing. This is fucking amazing.” Anandur took the sketch and handed it to Kian. “Take a look at this.”
Kian looked at it for a long moment, then handed it back to Dalhu. “Very good. You proved your point. You’ve got talent.”
The guy had proved his point and then some, and Andrew wasn’t referring to the Doomer’s sketching skill.
Dalhu swallowed. “It’s nothing, just a good visual memory and attention to detail, that’s all. Useful…” His body began swelling with aggression as his eyes darted between them.
The guy acted as if he had been caught wearing lipstick or ladies’ undergarments. Evidently, in Dalhu’s camp, artistic ability was not considered as befitting a fighter.
“I sing.” Anandur caught on fast. “And I’m damn good.” He began a merry tune in what sounded like Old Norse, and by the sparkle in his eyes and expressive hand gestures was about the female form.
He had a good, deep, rumbling voice that only enhanced his masculinity. It wasn’t helping.
Well, what the hell. Andrew joined the effort. “Unfortunately, I have no special talent, but I wish I had.”
Kian regarded them as if they were idiots. “What these two are trying to say is that your talent is a gift, not something to hide and be embarrassed about. Not here, and not even for a warrior.”
Dalhu shrugged. “If you say so, I’ve never looked at it as anything other than a useful tool.”
Anandur clapped the Doomer’s back. “I’m no expert, but this is good.”
“Enough about that.” Kian waved at Anandur to go back to his seat. “I’ll get you a laptop and some sketching supplies. Now tell me about the plan.”
CHAPTER 33: DALHU
For a moment, Dalhu contemplated playing down his part.
But it seemed he had gained some ground with Kian; the waves of hatred the guy had been emitting had subsided, if only marginally. It would be lost once Dalhu admitted to being the mastermind behind this new threat to Kian’s family. Except, Dalhu had already admitted everything to the Goddess, and even the slightest subterfuge would undermine his credibility.
And besides, he didn’t really care what Kian or the rest of them thought of him. The only one whose opinion he valued had already decided he wasn’t worthy.
And yet, even though he knew it to be the honest truth, so had Amanda when she had accepted him before. So why the change of heart? What had made her flee without even giving him the courtesy of a see-you-in-hell goodbye?
Maybe Kian had lied. Maybe he’d found out about her visit and had made sure it didn’t happen again.
Yes, that was the only thing that made sense. And if this was indeed the case, all was not lost.
Amanda would find a way.
As he felt the dark cloud of despair lift, Dalhu fought hard to keep his expression impassive. No reason to tip his hand and let Kian suspect he was on to him.
“Start from the beginning. From what you and your team were sent to do and why, to the reason you asked for reinforcements, and what they are planning to do,” Andrew clarified.
At first, Dalhu hadn’t understood what use the clan could possibly have for a mortal. But he was starting to realize that the guy was a valuable asset. Andrew seemed to know what he was doing and was levelheaded, methodical and thorough—unlike the hot-headed Kian.
Dalhu nodded. “It was retaliation for that computer virus you helped your allies develop. I was to find the team of programmers that made it happen, and take out the best one. It was supposed to send you a message; you mess with ours, we will mess with yours. Nothing new there.”
“How did you find them?” Andrew asked, and Dalhu noticed just then that the guy was recording everything on his phone.
Smart.
“We had an informant. Not in the programming unit, but somewhere higher up in the defense department. I can’t give you a name, though, or even a description, because I never dealt with the guy. The info went to my superior first, and he passed it down to me.”
Andrew’s brows furrowed. “You guys managed to bribe someone high ranking in the defense department? These people have to go through an extensive vetting process, and I’m sure their finances are closely monitored.”
Dalhu shrugged. “I wasn’t privy to that kind of information. I was just a field commander of a small unit. But from what I’ve gathered over the years, there are several ways the Brotherhood goes about it. The best is to raise a mole from the ground up. The Brotherhood recruits promising young boys, who are then brainwashed into supporting whatever cause they invent for them. The recruiters then help them and their families in ways tha
t are hard to detect—ensuring the parents get well-paying jobs, and the boys and their siblings get scholarships to the best universities. Then the Brotherhood waits patiently for them to climb up the ranks. Eventually, a few of the many that were nurtured make it to critical positions.”
Andrew whistled. “That’s a very long-term approach. Makes sense, though, time considerations are different for immortals.”
Kian got up to refill his glass. “And the other methods?”
“The run-of-the-mill bribes and blackmails.”
“Go on. So what happened next?” Kian asked.
Damn, now was the part Dalhu was dreading. “We had the name of the civilian programming unit—the one masquerading as a gaming company—but their offices had the kind of security we had no chance of breaching. And we had no idea who their top programmer was. So we surveyed the building and followed them around for a couple of days. Until one evening, they all went to celebrate at a bar. From there it was easy. Pinpointing the one they were all saluting, following him home, and taking him out.”
As Dalhu cast a longing look at Kian’s drink, he couldn’t help but notice the guy’s fingers tightening around the glass. Any moment, the thing would shatter in his hand.
“And no one stopped to question him before killing him? You had an untrained male from your enemy’s clan. Why waste such rare opportunity?” Andrew asked.
“We didn’t know he was one of yours. And the guy sent after him had his orders. Fortunately for you, Doomers don’t question their orders. Otherwise, your location would have been already compromised.”
Although true, he regretted his choice of words. To use the word fortunate in this context had been a mistake. Except, he wasn’t a diplomat, and his mastery of the English language didn’t include a rich vocabulary.
Judging by the baleful expression on Kian’s face, Dalhu wouldn’t live long enough to expand it either.
“Indeed.” Andrew cast a somber glance at Kian. “I’m sorry for your loss, Kian, but at least the man hadn’t been tortured. True?” He pinned Dalhu with a hard stare.
“Just fangs and venom.” Dalhu glanced briefly at Kian and felt a pang of guilt.
And envy.
Kian, the leader of Annani’s clan, wasn’t just angry about losing a great programmer, he was mourning the guy’s death. In contrast, no one ever gave a damn about a Doomer’s demise.
No one would mourn Dalhu.
Still, the fact was that the clan got more than even. “You took out eleven of mine and have me down here. I think your loss has been avenged.”
Damn, it was again the wrong thing to say. Kian looked ready to tear out his throat. “Just do yourself a favor, Doomer, and don’t try to equate the two. Clear?” he hissed through his fangs.
As much as Dalhu hated the supercilious jerk, Kian was right. It wasn’t the same. Unlike Dalhu and his men, the programmer had not been a fighter. Dalhu bowed his head. “My apologies, you are right.”
That seemed to somewhat mollify the guy, and the dangerous glow in his eyes subsided. “How did you know where to find Amanda, though?”
“My men found a framed article about Amanda’s research, with a personal dedication from her to the programmer. When they brought it back to me, I had a hunch she was related to the guy and decided to check it out. The presence of Guardians at her lab confirmed my suspicion. But running into her that day on the street was purely coincidental.”
A very lucky, fated coincidence.
Kian’s face hardened. “How did you know it was her? Did you sense she was an immortal?”
“No, of course not. There is no way to detect immortal females…” Dalhu paused as he remembered that he had been compelled to follow Amanda even before recognizing her. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I knew her face from the picture in the article, but I felt the urge to go after her even though all I saw was her retreating back. And not only because she is exquisite from any angle.”
The mortal eyed him with open curiosity. “What made you run and leave everything you knew behind, instead of delivering her to your leader?”
“First of all, I would have never handed over an immortal female to my brethren. Second, would you have done differently?”
The guy chuckled. “Good point. Though I’m not in the habit of abducting women when they refuse to come willingly.”
Yeah, the human probably had no trouble finding willing candidates for his affections. Still… “You also have no shortage of possible mates, there are probably millions of them in this city alone. I, on the other hand, had this one and only chance, and I was not going to let it get away, even if it went against my own code of honor.”
“Wasn’t aware Doomers had any…” Kian gritted.
“First of all, I’m no longer a Doomer. And second, honor is subjective. And even those who others consider monsters sometimes cling to their own notion of honor.”
Kian wasn’t impressed. “Good, I see you have no delusions as to what you are.”
The condescending prick.
“I might be a monster, but I would have never treated my own sister the way you did yours. No matter what.”
As Dalhu’s barb hit home, Kian’s wince was deeply satisfying.
“We are getting off track here, guys.” Andrew raised his palm to halt Kian’s retort. “So what happened next?”
Dalhu rubbed his neck. “After the first team encountered Guardians at Amanda’s lab, the same night I sent another to search it for clues. They found her journal, which I learned a lot from.”
Kian snorted. “Yeah, like the names of her top test subjects, which you tried to snatch.”
“Yes. But also that you guys adhere to the old taboo against in-line mating, and with no Dormants of other lines, are all the descendants of one female. Which finally explained your age-old tactic of hiding instead of facing the Brotherhood head on. There just aren’t enough of you.”
“So, you decided it wouldn’t be all that difficult to hunt us into extinction.” The hatred wafting of off Kian was not only pungent but felt like a tangible force—pervasive and oppressive.
Not that Dalhu could fault the guy. He sighed. “Actually, my first response was a grudging respect. Achieving all that you had with so few members is damn impressive.”
Kian shifted in his chair. “Glad you approve,” he hissed.
“Not at all. In my opinion, you’re wasting your efforts. Mortals are not worth it, their herd mentality is ill-suited for democracy. They’re better off being led and controlled. But this is neither here nor there. Anyway, after being bested by your Guardians time and again, I did some thinking and figured that their presence indicated a clan stronghold somewhere around LA. But to find it I didn’t need to catch a Guardian. Any immortal would do. And where better to hunt for immortal males than the places they frequent hunting for hookups—bars and clubs. But as there are hundreds of those in this city, I needed more men to conduct an adequate search.”
Andrew frowned. “But from what you’ve said before, your superiors were not sending you more men to command, but replacing you with a higher ranking officer.”
CHAPTER 34: KIAN
The Doomer chuckled. “I knew they wouldn’t leave such an important mission to me, but I hoped to get credit for the idea, maybe even a larger and better-trained unit under my command.”
Kian didn’t know if he hated the guy more or less for his dispassionate recounting, or for being so absolutely, fucking honest. Andrew’s foot hadn’t tapped even once, and he’d been watching the thing like a hawk.
Plotting the demise of Kian’s family had been just a job for the Doomer, an assignment, an opportunity for advancement. The guy was a cold, opportunistic bastard, nothing more.
What the hell did Amanda see in that thing?
And yet, the Doomer wasn’t cold when it came to her. That sketch, more than anything he might have said, proved that the guy not only had feelings for Amanda but had somehow gotten to know her pretty damn well
in the short time he’d had her. And not only in the biblical sense.
And what’s worse, Kian had to admit, if grudgingly, that a soulless creature couldn’t have imbued his rendering of Amanda with so much life, emotion, and insight.
Andrew touched his phone to stop the recording and got up. “I’m ready for a drink. What can I get you, Dalhu?”
The Doomer looked grateful. “Whatever you’re having.”
Andrew glanced at Kian. “A refill?”
“Yeah.” He got up and handed Andrew his empty glass.
What an asset the guy was turning out to be. How had he managed all this time without him? Andrew practically took over the interrogation and was doing a much better job than Kian would have done.
Evidently, there was something to be said for emotional distance—or maybe proper training.
Dalhu drained his glass, and Andrew poured him another before going back to his chair.
“Okay, let’s move on to your fascinating home base.” Andrew touched his phone’s screen to restart the recording.
“I assume the Goddess has told you what I’ve told her.”
“Yes, we know about the Brotherhood’s underground facility, and the world-class brothel your leader runs on the other side of that island. From what I understood, the security is extremely tight, but I want to hear more. Everything from facts to suspicions to guesses. No place is airtight. There must be a way to infiltrate the island.”
With Andrew conducting the questioning, Kian leaned back in his chair, not at all minding being relegated to the role of a passive observer.
As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to be gained from this line of questioning anyway.
He wasn’t planning on storming his enemy stronghold, no matter how much he despised Doomers, or how much he pitied the enslaved females—mortal and Dormant alike. It just wasn’t feasible, and Kian wasn’t in the habit of indulging in make-believe scenarios.
“A single human may have a chance, but not an immortal.” Dalhu looked at Andrew. “The immortal guards would sniff another immortal right away, he wouldn’t get through the first line of security. And although the only way to get in, which is even remotely conceivable, would be as a client, I have no idea how one would go about getting an invitation, or even being in the know.”