Blood of Jackals

by Todd Marcelas Moreno

  “What happened?” Jordan asked, shocked by her sudden outburst.

  “She’s dead. Hestori is dead.”

  Lounging in his Pablen apartments, Jordan knew about the dead witches from his HOPIS status update. He did not know his sister’s former teacher was among them however. Not that he thought her worth destroying a whole room over.

  “The villagers,” seethed Lilth. “I want them all killed.”

  “The media has already reported that Dark Witches were involved in the attack there, and in Landsig,” said Jordan. “We cannot kill a band of simple townsfolk for defending themselves.”

  “I do not care about making excuses for the media.”

  “HOPIS agents even died fighting alongside them.”

  “Then give me that Colonel,” Lilth breathed. “Steuben. I want him. Alive.”

  “That I can do,” Jordan confirmed. “He might even know where Derrick is.”

  “That would be a bonus,” Lilth murmured.

  - - -

  Carol Sukain finished the report on her screen and looked to the officials around her desk. “So now we deal with Dark Witches.”

  “Their involvement won’t matter,” said General Muerran. “People died, and those holding Lord Derrick are rumored to have escaped. We’re finished.”

  “Lady Morays has already moved Parliament for an inquiry,” Guard Commander Lerrero added. “She says her ‘spiritual sisters’ were trying to rescue Lord Derrick when the locals, being provincial in their prejudices, attacked them, thereby letting his abductors escape with him.”

  “That does not explain the presence of HOPIS,” remarked Sukain.

  “Lady Morays denies any connection with the Landsig attack,” said Lerrero.

  “A bold-faced lie,” Muerran said evenly, “but one we can’t conclusively disprove.”

  Sukain sighed. “And of the townspeople who were willing to talk to us, did any of them even see Lord Legan, or recognize him from visual images?”

  “No. Most said they just heard that Dark Witches were coming and, when they arrived, the whole town got together to defend itself.”

  “How long will it take Parliament to act on Lady Morays’ demands?” Sukain looked to a new member of her council. Given the political ambitions, and thus uncertain loyalties, of regular government advisors, Sukain had kept them at a distance when she could. Too many had lately become servants of Jordan Possór.

  “As you suspected, Ma’am,” the man replied, “Lord Jordan has been laying the groundwork for such an event. They may not wait for an inquiry.”

  “And does Lord Jordan have the votes to be made regent?”

  The man smiled. “Not yet. Bringing out the other Possórs has had the desired effect. Even Lady Morays’ oldest son has had an increase in publicity lately.”

  “We could give Parliament the HOPIS colonel in charge of the scene, First Advisor,” said another. “Letting it gnaw on his bones could buy us some time.”

  “Without Colonel Steuben, we wouldn’t have gotten any closer to Lord Derrick than Landsig, if that,” Muerran said firmly, making her position clear.

  Sukain said nothing. That colonel knew what he was doing. He knew those witches would be there and somehow, she suspected, he knew that Derrick was there as well. The man had gotten close. Muerran was right. It was no time to pull him out of the game yet.

  “Open an administrative inquiry,” Sukain said finally, “but do not suspend him. Reduce his caseload though. Give him some room to maneuver.”

  “And what about Lord Jordan and Parliament, First Advisor?”

  “Change of tactics,” Sukain breathed. “Now we ransom Lord Curin.”

  Commander Lerrero smiled. “Time to get another player on the field?”

  Sukain smiled back. “And to cut some of the wind from Lady Morays’ sails.”

  “Lord Curin was never held with Lord Derrick, was he?” the new man asked.

  “No,” Lerrero replied. “Though questioning him about his alleged kidnapping should be interesting.” He looked at Sukain. “Especially if he is given the latest legal opinion on his mother’s marriage contract, and learns just how close to the throne he really is.”

  - - -

  Steuben placed Taniell’s gold chain and locket in a small envelope, sealed it, and put it in his pocket. One more debt to repay. Slowly he spun his chair to look out the window of the private office he had sublet from a local law firm. On his desk-screen was the memorandum regarding the incident in the Quetana region. The inquiry did not mean a suspension, but most of his cases had been taken away, including the one for which he had rented this office. His mood made him wonder: Since when was suddenly having little or no work to do a bad thing?

  Steuben opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a bottle.

  Maybe it was time to retire.

  It would be easy for Steuben to track Derrick, even with the vehicle’s geo-positioning device disabled. Based on fuel and local geography, he had an idea of where Derrick was even now. Yet something stopped him. What was it?

  Damn me if I am being deterred by hurt feelings, he thought.

  “Excuse us, Colonel,” one of two men said as they entered Steuben’s office. Neither wore a uniform. Nor had they been announced by the lobby receptionist.

  “Let me guess,” said Steuben. “You’re here about Landsig and Quetana.”

  “Sir, we’d like you to come with us,” said the other.

  “If you two are investigators, why not ask me your questions here?”

  “We are only to escort you –Sir, please don’t...”

  Both men tensed as the Colonel grabbed a computer module and tossed it to them. “My official report. You can come back later if you any questions.”

  “This is a matter of some urgency, Sir.”

  “My report is not that long. And we can even teleconference this afternoon.”

  “Please just come with us, Colonel.”

  “A summons to a board of inquiry usually has a notice period. Has a hearing been scheduled already?”

  “Please, Sir. Come with us.”

  “In whose name do you come?” The two men said nothing, both looking uncertain. “Under whose authority do you act?” Steuben rephrased. One of the men was about to speak when the Colonel stopped him. “Remember: I can verify your orders through HOPIS.”

  “The soon-to-be-named Lord Regent, Sir,” one man replied. “We follow the orders of Lord Jordan Possór.”

  Steuben laughed as he hit a button under his desk with his foot. “So, I’m to be going to Crucidel Palace for questioning. Well, Lord Jordan is not regent yet.”

  “We should leave now, Sir. Please come quietly.”

  “Is that the way they taught you to lead a man to his death?” Steuben asked, seeing the small targeting lights on the two men in front of him.

  Both men opened their jackets to expose their side arms.

  “Very well,” Steuben said, seeming to acquiesce to their demand.

  Two darts shot out at the two men from the display cases next to them. Neither cried out, their only sound being a sharp intake of breath as both were paralyzed before their hands could reach up to pull out the darts. Falling to the floor, the two continued to twitch and spasm from the darts’ toxin before finally going still. Whenever he rented an office, Steuben always insisted on decorating it himself. Most office landlords tended to be limited in what kind of furniture and equipment they offered. Fortunately, he knew alternative suppliers.

  The Colonel sighed. It seemed that he was leaving places quickly these days. As always, he had taken precautions in order to vacate the office without having to return. He could carry what he needed easily and, with a few commands to his computer, safely leave the rest.

  Exiting through a back door to avoid the main lobby, Steuben again berated himself for not fully appreciating his situation. Having caused the deaths of those Dark Witches, he too was now a fugitive, just like Derrick. And no matter what those two men ly
ing dead in that office had claimed, the same powerful, malicious woman now wanted both their lives.

  - - -

  XV

  Once he dared to truly consider it, Guishaun’s decision was easy. The only way to protect him and his brother, and thwart his uncle’s plans, was to kill his father. After all, assassination was a valid political tool in his family. Surely Jordan had played a role in removing Derrick, and Seonas Possór was far more deserving. Justice demanded his death. Fortunately, his beloved Dorian had the needed contacts for such an endeavor, which ultimately led to a meeting.

  “Since leveling the castle is out of the question…” the woman looked at Guishaun for confirmation. Dressed in a fashion which could be charitably called utilitarian, Guishaun would not have thought the woman to be in the murder business. Nonetheless, there she was, ready to negotiate a contract for death.

  “Completely out of the question. My brother will be inside.”

  “You can’t get him to leave?”

  “No. Besides, there’s too much artwork in there that would be lost. There is to be no structural damage to the building.”

  “Very well. What are your parameters for incidental casualties?”

  “I only care about my brother. Kill anyone else you please.”

  “Killing does not please us, Lord Guishaun,” the woman said. “I take your meaning, however. We will try to make this look accidental. At the very least, we will create enough uncertainty for the death to be ruled mysterious. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. There is one more thing though.” Guishaun looked the woman directly in the eyes. “I want to be there.” The woman lifted an eyebrow.

  “Might you wish to plunge a jeweled dagger into your father’s heart as well?”

  “I would love to strike the lethal blow myself,” Guishaun replied, ignoring her sarcasm. “But given the risks, I’ll settle for him knowing it came from me.”

  The woman sat back in her chair. “Your wish can be accommodated, my Lord. We have had high-profile cases where tag-alongs took an active part in the assignment. This would be the first time we had a royal accomplice inhume another royal however.”

  “This is personal as much as political,” Guishaun stated.

  “No doubt,” the woman replied. “But if he has violated the Third Prohibition by psychically rejuvenating himself, why not report him to the Miran Church? They have specialists for these inquiries, ones who also administer the sanction.”

  “That would take too long. Especially for an heir to a planetary throne. Besides, if he only regenerates himself to his true age, there won’t be any evidence once he is done. My father’s vain, but in this he’ll be careful.”

  “These investigators know what to look for,” the woman pressed.

  “No one outside his medical team has seen him for years. Who is to say that his revitalization didn’t occur naturally? But why do you care? Your only concern should be about payment.”

  “We’ve no concern regarding that point, Lord Guishaun,” the woman said. “But we don’t accept just any contract and assign a bounty at random. A full risk assessment must be made.”

  “So you’re saying you can’t give me an answer right away?”

  “Not at all, Lord Guishaun. But typically, for a target this visible, we give a courtesy notice to...ah, a certain circle of associates. It’s just a matter of form.”

  “Any of Legan’s usual players will try to dissuade you.”

  “I can’t disagree.” The woman appeared to run calculations in her head.

  “So you’ll do it?” Guishaun asked, his patience spent. Feeling so close to his goal, his hands and legs were on the verge of trembling.

  “Yes, but there will be an added surcharge for you to be there.”

  “Look, I’ve already given you my maximum price. I won’t go any higher.”

  “We agree to that sum as our fee. Costs, and surcharges, are extra.”

  “Forget it,” Guishaun spat. “For that price, I can get dozens of others to take the job, with everything included.”

  “I’m sure you can,” the woman replied evenly. “But given the risks, particularly if you are there when it happens, it hardly seems wise to let price discourage you from hiring the best.”

  “Life is full of gambles,” said Guishaun.

  “Yes, but when you have to win, you should be willing to pay extra to stack the deck.” The woman stood. “Good luck to you then, Lord Guishaun.”

  “Wait, damn you,” Guishaun said, his bluff called. “Can I pay the fee now and reimburse the costs afterward?”

  “Our policy is to have the entire amount up front.”

  “It is just that I will not have access to any more money until after he is dead.” The woman did not respond. “I am telling you the truth,” Guishaun insisted.

  “Very well. We will set up an interest and payment schedule for costs.”

  “Interest?”

  “I trust you fully understand the importance of meeting that schedule?”

  “Of course,” Guishaun murmured.

  “Excellent,” said the woman, favoring him with a smile that even touched her eyes. Despite himself, he found the ease of her feigned sincerity chilling. “Preparations will begin immediately.”

  - - -

  Vaid Ketrick glanced at his wrist-device and smiled. They were on schedule. Before him was a production facility and packaging plant. Inside, his men were once again striking out in revenge against the NDB Church. Like the other targets they had destroyed, this place too would soon be rubble. Just like the forcibly abandoned headquarters of the DuCideon Brotherhood.

  Activating the viewscreen inside his combat goggles, part of the equipment provided by the Consortium through his deal with Anios Tenatte, Ketrick watched as the explosive charges were being laid. He then shut off the mechanism. He did not fool himself that Tenatte’s aid was motivated by anything other than self-interest. It was easy for the Consortium to provide vehicles, supplies and weapons. So long as it was Ketrick and his group of “loyal” DuCideon brothers doing the work, the Consortium could make war against its enemy with little risk.

  For his part, Ketrick made sure that they only destroyed NDB businesses and assets. Those still technically belonging to the Brotherhood would be spared, with the hope that Ketrick would regain control of DuCideon planetary operations. That way, he might still characterize joining forces with the Brotherhood’s dishonorable rival not as a betrayal, but as a step toward liberating the Brotherhood of its true betrayer: The NDB Church.

  So far Tenatte had accepted this condition of Ketrick’s cooperation. Once Ketrick ran out of NDB targets however, he knew that Tenatte’s position would change. The former DuCideon Grandmaster however had a plan for that as well.

  “Brother Ketrick,” said a man stepping up behind him.

  “Yes, Brother.”

  “We’ve discovered another vault, Sir, identical to the last one.”

  Ketrick’s face brightened. So, the NDB had hidden a secret depository in a building where they produced consumables forbidden by their religious teachings. Strange how the possibility of profit could override any sense of hypocrisy.

  “It looks to have the same security measures as well, Sir,” the man went on.

  Ketrick grunted. Sabotage and destruction was easier when it was both the means and the goal. It was safer too, as there was less chance of meeting up against Church Security. But if this vault had the same cache of monetary instruments and marketable valuables as the first, the risk had to be taken. He could only rely on the Consortium’s financial assistance for so long.

  “Then we go for the vault,” Ketrick ordered. “Alert all teams. Once the explosives are in place, breach the vault’s remaining security measures. We will take one sweep of the vault and leave before any fighting starts. Then, once their forces enter, we bring the building down.”

  “Yes, Brother.” The man grinned as he relayed the command.

  We’ll use some of the mon
ey for recruiting, Ketrick thought. He needed more men, and soon, even if they were not full-sworn brothers. War was coming. He knew it. And he could not afford to be sidelined once the real battle started. Or worse, be swept aside.

  - - -

  Alone, in one of his assigned rooms of his father’s palatial prison, Varian stiffened in his chair and shakily set his drink down on the table next to him.

  “Oh boy,” he mumbled, turning off his viewscreen and darkening the room. Breathing deeply, he walked to a window and peered out. Four cloaked figures made their way across the courtyard below. “Oh boy,” he repeated, backing away from the window and slapping his hands together nervously. “Oh boy. Oh boy.”

  -

  Guishaun met the four assassins at the designated point and let them inside. No words were exchanged. Dressed as one of them, in the robes of a long established religious order within the Miran Church, he led them to his father, smiling in the darkness of his cowl.

  -

  “No, no, no,” said Varian as he paced pace around his suite. “Ahhhhhh,” he intoned, alternating between small cries and low murmurs.

  -

  Guishaun took them by the most direct route, changing paths only to avoid being seen. Reaching a rear door into Seonas Possór’s audience hall, the lead assassin pointed to a control panel and looked a question at Guishaun. Guishaun nodded, confirming that he had taken care of the room’s sensors and monitors. Upon entering, two assassins took stations at the room’s doors, as a precaution against any unexpected interruptions. Another assassin retrieved a small device from his robe, opened the casing of Seonas’ medical tank, and made an interface connection. Now the man could neutralize the tank’s life-support systems, stop any alerts to Seonas’ medical team, and short the system to make the ultimate shutdown look like a mechanical failure. Despite himself, Guishaun shivered at the group’s proficiency for murder, reminding himself that the deadly skills he had paid for were available for others to buy as well.

  The assassin finished connecting the device and checking the systems before nodding to the assassin standing next to Guishaun. The lead assassin nodded back an order to proceed.

  -