by Chris Fox
As she smiled he caught sight of the same razored teeth Irakesh and Trevor bore. Her eyes smoldered with green flame, reminding him she was every bit his enemy. A spear very similar to the dead wolf’s was propped against her throne, within easy reach.
“Mighty Ra, I have brought the prisoner as you commanded,” the jackal rumbled. A huge hand settled over Jordan’s shoulder, forcing him to his knees. The jackal fell to one knee beside him, dropping his voice to a low rumble. “Avert your gaze, or I will take your eyes, whelp.”
Jordan stared Ra right in the face, daring her to take some sort of action. The jackal’s gauntleted hand swept up in a backhand, but Jordan was ready this time. He blurred, catching the gauntlet in both hands. He summoned his telekinesis, using it to help lift the jackal. Then Jordan flung the creature directly at Steve and Irakesh, stripping the strange fan-bladed axe from its grip as the creature sailed past.
Jordan settled into a combat stance as he scanned the room, searching for a means of escape before they recaptured him.
The jackal was still in midair when the figure on the throne twitched. That was the only way Jordan could describe it. Her position shifted as if she’d blurred, yet it happened so quickly he couldn’t track it. He blinked twice, staring down at his hands as he realized his stolen weapon was gone.
He looked up to see the jackal crash into Steve, knocking the man to the ground under his tremendous weight. Irakesh managed to dodge out of the way, though his feet never left the step he’d been standing on. Jordan glanced up at the throne again, jaw dropping as he saw that Ra now held the axe he’d stolen from the jackal.
“I’ll devour your heart,” the jackal roared, leaping to his feet and blurring in Jordan’s direction. Even though Jordan blurred, he couldn’t avoid the attack.
A gauntleted fist hit his jaw like a freight train, shattering bone as he was flung back twenty or more feet. He skidded along the marble floor, trying to roll to his feet. The jackal gave no quarter, and Jordan felt more than one bone break as blows rained down on him.
“Enough,” Ra’s voice cracked. The blows didn’t slacken. “Anubis, your disobedience is becoming a dangerous habit.”
That stopped the blows. He was aware of Anubis moving away; that was apparently the jackal’s name. The creature fell to one knee, facing the throne. “Forgive me, mighty Ra. I lost my temper. This whelp has embarrassed me in front of the court. Please, let me take his heart.”
“Be silent, and contemplate your disobedience lest I take your heart,” Ra snapped. The jackal merely nodded, remaining in his kneeling position.
Jordan took the opportunity to rise to his feet, snapping his forearm back into place. Two ribs cracked into position, and he couldn’t stifle the groan of pain.
“Approach the throne, Ka-Dun,” Ra commanded, eyes smoldering. Jordan considered his options, then decided he had no choice. He walked painfully to the base of the stairs, stopping next to Steve and Irakesh. Trevor was lurking there as well, avoiding Jordan’s gaze. “I must decide what to do with you. Tell me, Ka-Dun, whom do you serve?”
That was a harder question to answer than Jordan would have thought. Who did he serve? Not Isis. He respected her, but he didn’t share her goals. She was too callous, too focused on things that wouldn’t occur for millennia. Blair then? No, Blair was more of an ally.
“I serve the Ka-Ken, Liz,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “She leads my pack.”
“I am unfamiliar with this Ka-Ken,” Ra said, rising from her throne. She swept past the wolf-thing, past Steve and Irakesh, until she stood before Jordan. She was his height, a rarity among women. “If this Liz could issue you an order, what would it be? What would she wish you to accomplish in my court?”
“To kill that fucker,” Jordan rumbled, nodding at Steve.
“Ahhh,” Ra said, raising a delicate eyebrow. “So this Liz serves Isis. Unsurprising.”
She turned from Jordan, focusing her gaze on Steve. “What of you, Ka-Dun? Whom is it you serve?”
“I serve you, mighty Ra,” Steve replied, sinking to one knee, as the jackal had. He kept his eyes downcast, and his tone was as deferential as Jordan had ever heard. “It was I who saved Irakesh and brought him here. I offer myself to your service, and I offer the key that I bear. The key belonging to Isis and her Ark on the jungle continent.”
Jordan struggled against the urge to shatter Steve’s face, barely containing his fury. The betrayal had been expected, but to give the key to the Mother’s Ark to a woman who’d given birth to a monster like Irakesh? That was beyond stupidity.
“I see,” Ra said, folding her arms as she stared down at Steve. “You are not the first to profess such loyalty, and I am not inclined to trust you. Why should I, after you betrayed your former master? You would do the same to me, like as not.”
Steve looked up at her, fear etched in his features. “Mighty Ra, I have told the truth. I seek only to serve. To live and die in your service. Please, I know much of this age. I am a trained scholar, well-versed in our history. I can teach you a great deal. Even show it to you, if you’ll permit me to mindshare.”
“Allow you to touch my mind?” Ra said, disbelieving. She threw her head back and laughed. Jordan was aware of Irakesh flinching behind his mother, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. The mockery in that laughter cut deeply. Eventually it stilled, and Ra turned to Irakesh. “Step forward my son.”
Irakesh did so, descending a step to stand next to his mother. He made no attempt to disguise his fear, not that Jordan could blame him in this instance.
“Place this around the Ka-Dun’s neck,” she commanded, extending her hand. Gold pooled there, forming a perfectly round ring just large enough to fit around a man’s neck. Glowing glyphs like those lining the walls covered the surface.
Irakesh took it, fear melting as he took a step toward Steve. He snapped the object around Steve’s neck with an audible click, and there was a brief flash of golden light. Then the collar sealed, now apparently one unbroken piece of metal.
“He is your responsibility, Irakesh. If you train him well you will be allowed to keep him. If not….” She shrugged.
“How do I control him, Mother?” Irakesh asked, the hunger in his gaze plain.
“With this,” she said, offering a bracelet to match the collar. Irakesh all but snatched it from her hand, slapping it around his wrist. It snapped into place and a look of ecstasy came over him.
“Lie down, dog,” Irakesh commanded, gesturing at Steve with his hand. The bracelet glowed golden for a brief instant, then Steve collapsed to the floor. Irakesh’s grin nearly swallowed his face.
“Step forward, Trevor Gregg,” Ra commanded, turning to face Trevor. Jordan’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted to a combat stance. “Place this around your Ka-Dun’s neck.”
She extended a similar collar, which Trevor took reluctantly. He met Jordan’s gaze, and Jordan saw something odd there. Was that pity? Trevor eventually took a step forward and gently slid the collar around Jordan’s neck. Jordan briefly considered batting Trevor’s arm aside, but what would that accomplish? Better to keep his dignity.
“And the method of control,” Ra said, offering Trevor a bracelet to match Irakesh’s. Trevor placed it around his wrist, a look of distaste flitting across his features.
“How do I use it?” Trevor asked, still looking at Jordan.
“Simply will pain through the bracelet,” Ra explained, gesturing at Jordan. “The Ka-Dun will feel it for as long as you will it so. What’s more, any shaping the Ka-Dun attempts will be cancelled, unless you allow it. This includes shifting. He is nothing but a mortal unless you allow him to be more.”
Jordan gritted his teeth and glared at Trevor.
Chapter 22- Spy
Mark looked up from the narrow desk, surprised by the soft rapping at his door. He’d just left Osiris, and besides, the knock seemed too timid. Yet he didn’t hear a heartbeat on the other side. Interesting. He rose to his feet, pulling open the heavy steel
door.
A woman in all-black nylon stood on the other side. It covered her from head to toe, even her face. She was short, maybe five foot three. Mark took a step back, concerned she might be some sort of assassin. Yet she produced no weapon, and hadn’t made any threatening gestures.
“We can’t talk here,” the woman whispered, with a faint Irish accent. “Head down a level. Go to the storage closet at the south end of the hall.”
Then she was gone. She didn’t step into the shadows, as Mark had seen with other supernaturals. She simply vanished, and somehow he knew it wasn’t an illusion. He sensed that she was gone entirely. Some new power? Perhaps the voice in his head knew.
It is, master. Vampires possess the ability to instantly traverse space. The ability can only be used to cross short distances, but may save your life.
Short-range teleportation, then. That was beyond amazing, especially if he could master it.
Mark started up the hallway toward the door leading to the stairwell. He’d already decided to meet the strange woman, though he had no idea what her motives might be. Curiosity, cats, and all that.
The door to the stairway was a single solid piece of steel, its pitted surface painted a deep brown. The place screamed bomb shelter, and he wondered briefly why and when it had been built. World War Two? Mark opened the door, which creaked far too loudly in protest.
No one seemed to have noticed, so he started down the narrow concrete stairs. The hallway was dimly lit by a single bulb, but his new senses made incredible use of the illumination. He could pick out the gradations of the concrete, the grease on the walls where thousands of careless hands had brushed.
He hurried down one flight, stopping outside the next door. He took a deep breath, or rather mimed taking one. His body was no longer aerobic, and apparently it functioned without the aid of oxygen. Despite that, the muscle memory was powerful, and he could feel the air as he sucked it in.
The door opened more easily on this floor, with only a slight creak. Mark stepped into the hallway, which was virtually indistinguishable from the one above. It too was lit by a single dim bulb, with a series of steel doors lining both sides.
He hurried up the hallway, moving far more quietly than he’d have been able to manage in life. That was a curiosity. His loafers were the same, yet he didn’t hear a single scuff, despite taking no special effort to prevent them.
This too is one of your abilities, master. You possess the ability to smother sound, much the same way a Ka-Ken does when shadow walking.
Mark filed that away for further study later. He needed to learn more about his abilities, and he needed to learn it as soon as possible.
The door at the far end of the hall was different than the others, this one cut from heavy oak instead of steel. Mark tried the handle, which turned easily. The door slid open silently, revealing a darkened closet filled with brooms, mops, and various cleaning supplies.
He stepped inside, glancing up the hallway to ensure he wasn’t being followed. Nothing. Mark closed the door, plunging the room into darkness. A pair of sharp green eyes flared to life at the far end of the closet.
They gave off just enough light to illuminate the stranger’s face. She was a young woman in her mid twenties. Blonde curls dusted her shoulders, and her cheeks dimpled as she gave him a warm smile. It couldn’t have been more at odds with the hellish eyes.
“I’ve come down here on good faith, but you’ve reached the limits of my cooperation,” Mark said, just above a whisper. He straightened his tie, then folded his arms as he waited for a response.
“Thank you, Director Phillips,” she said, giving a gracious nod. It exposed a long, slender neck, which led down to a generous expanse of cleavage. Mark appreciated a beautiful woman as much as the next man, but he was shocked by the depth of the lust that simple glance provoked. “I know you have many questions, and I will answer what I can once I’ve explained why I called you here. You are a pawn, Mark. May I call you Mark?”
Mark nodded brusquely. He was already tired of this game.
“Osiris hasn’t sired progeny in over a century,” the woman said, licking her lips. That too, was sensual. “The fact that he would now is troubling, and my associates are quite concerned.”
“Associates?” Mark asked, eyes narrowing. “I don’t even know your name. Who are you? Who do you work for?”
“You can call me Elle,” the woman said, the Irish strong in her words. “As for who I work for, you’ll find out if you choose to meet them. We’re a faction of what you know as vampires.”
“You’re clearly working at cross-purposes with Osiris, or you wouldn’t be doing all this cloak-and-dagger crap,” Mark interrupted, trying to speed things along. He could be missed at any time, and he didn’t want to have to explain his absence. “I thought he was the first vampire, which means he created all of you. So what’s with the familial spat?”
“It’s far more than a simple argument,” Elle said, giving a heavy sigh. “Osiris is insane, Mark. He was left outside the Great Ark during the span between ages. He spent thirteen millennia scavenging enough energy to survive, and he did whatever it took to ensure that. It changed him. He’s not the same benevolent father we knew, and I fear what he intends for the world. You’ve already seen what happened, the zombies everywhere. You realize he’s responsible for that, right?”
“Is he?” Mark shot back. He’d had time to think on it, and the move didn’t seem to be Osiris’s style. If there was anything he’d learned about the ancient god, it was that Osiris was ever the showman. Killing the entire world deprived him of an audience. “And even if he is, why should I trust you? What makes you any different?”
“My people were left behind to care for the world,” Elle said, cocking her head as she studied him with those intense green eyes. “None of us are ancient, because we died off or slumbered as the power diminished. Yet some of us sired progeny, and passed down the legacy.”
“Okay, so let’s say you’re on the level. What exactly do you want from me?” Mark asked.
“We need to know what Osiris’s plans are. For whatever reason, he seems to trust you. If you value the few survivors and want to help humanity survive the next decade, then you’ll help us,” she said, gaze earnest. Mark sensed no deception, but didn’t discount the possibility that she could be using an ability to manipulate him. “Listen, Mark. I know you don’t trust me. You have no reason to. All I ask is that you agree to meet with my associates. Speak to them, and see if they can convince you. If not, then we go our separate ways.”
Mark was silent for a long moment. He didn’t trust her, but then he didn’t trust Osiris either. What was the right side? Was either one better than the other, or were they two shades of the same darkness?
“All right,” he agreed, giving a tight nod. “I’ll meet with them, as long as we can do it safely. But I’m going to want something from you.”
Maybe he leered at her, or maybe she was just used to men looking at her in a certain way. She glanced down at her chest, then back up with a wicked smile.
“Not that,” Mark snapped. “You’re going to teach me that teleporting trick. Do that, and I’ll meet with your masters. Deal?”
Chapter 23- Banquet
Trevor finished dressing and surveyed himself in the full length mirror set into the wall of his new chambers. He thought he looked ridiculous in the shiny white vest and harem pants. His chest, though well-muscled and hardened by combat, felt exposed…naked. Anput had insisted he dress the part if he wanted to fit in. All the court wore the garments, with the exception of Anubis. Trevor felt like frigging Aladdin. Now if only he had Robin Williams around to grant wishes.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Trevor turned to see Anput enter the chamber. She wore a flowing white blouse cut from the same fabric as his vest, though hers was trimmed in gold. Her makeup was as skillfully applied as last time, and she wielded a smile with the same degree of skill.
“Are you ready for
your first banquet, Trevor Gregg?” she asked, taking a step into his room. He noticed for the first time that she wore nothing on her feet. He’d expected some sort of expensive slippers, like she’d insisted he wear. Instead she walked barefoot, making no sound as she moved.
“No, but I doubt anything else you can teach me in the next few minutes will prepare me,” he said, stifling a sigh. He glanced down at the golden bracelet around his right wrist. It seemed an unnecessarily cruel invention, one even worse than the slave collars he’d read about in the Wheel of Time. If Jordan hadn’t hated him before, then he certainly would now.
“A fair answer. Follow me, and I’ll escort you. Do as I do, and avoid speaking unless spoken to,” Anput said, offering him her arm. Trevor took it, allowing her to lead him from the chamber. “These affairs are all about position. Others will attempt to spar verbally, those who win gaining favor with Ra.”
“You called it a banquet,” Trevor said, unsure how to broach the subject. He took several more steps up the corridor before continuing. “What exactly are we eating?”
“Ahh, I forget how little you know,” Anput said, shooting him a sly smile. “We will consume the hearts and minds of exotic thralls. This will gift us with potent memories, and we will share what we learn as we dine. It provides an easy method of conversation. Doubly so, since every memory is new in this strange age. Almost everything we learn is vastly different from our own time.”
Trevor felt a moment of revulsion, but he stifled it. It was unlikely that the victims supplying their meal would be consumed alive. More likely they were already dead, zombies harvested for this grisly meal.
You must set aside this squeamishness, my host. Power comes from feeding. Even were that not so you are no longer human. You are deathless, and must consume the flesh of others to survive.