Lovers Awakening

by R. A. Steffan

  Circle of Blood Book Two: Lover’s Awakening

  By R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf

  Copyright 2017 by R. A. Steffan

  Cover by Deranged Doctor Design

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Epilogue

  ONE

  “MY LIFE WOULD BE so much more difficult if people actually paid attention to what was going on around them,” Trynn muttered as she slipped into a vacant back office.

  She was illegally and unashamedly trespassing inside the main branch of the Hellenic Bank of Cyprus, near the city center in Nicosia, though you wouldn’t have known it based on the reactions of the employees she’d met so far. After pulling her laptop out of its bag, she sat in a dusty office chair and laid it on an old desk that looked like it had been stashed out of sight to hide the graffiti etched on its surface.

  With a few quick taps to her keyboard, Trynn opened a program and started her attack on the bank’s intranet security, feeling the familiar swoop of adrenaline in the pit of her stomach.

  Footsteps sounded outside the hall and Trynn paused, waiting to see if anyone would ask her for credentials. A lone bank employee walked by the open door, giving her a curious look before turning back to the stack of papers in his hands. Trynn shook her head.

  If you act like you belong somewhere, no one even bothers to find out if it’s true or not.

  As far as Trynn was concerned, she had the best career in the entire world. As a professional hacker for Trajan Security, it was her job to try to infiltrate high-level security systems that would be prime targets for hackers with malicious intent. After her attempt, she would report back to her employers with her findings. They, in turn, would communicate with the companies and advise them on security improvements that would prevent future problems.

  So, here she was at the Hellenic Bank of Cyprus, trying to access the accounts of several wealthy bank customers. Though in reality, her assault had begun as soon as she walked in the door.

  As an uncommonly tall woman, Trynn knew she stood out in a crowd—something that she often used to her advantage. Usually, the best way for her to start her mission was to ensure that she was noticed immediately upon entering a business or company’s front door.

  Indeed, shortly after she had stepped inside the bank, one of the tellers approached her and asked if she needed any assistance.

  “Your manager called about an hour ago,” she told the woman. “He said there was something going on with the internet in his office? A glitch or something?”

  The bank teller had looked momentarily confused and said, “I wasn’t aware of any issues going on in the building.” Her Mediterranean accent was thick, forcing Trynn to concentrate on what she was saying; making sure that she didn’t miss any details.

  “Well, he sounded like he was in a rush, so he didn’t give too many particulars.” Trynn tapped her fingers on her leg, telegraphing mild impatience.

  “Yes, he’s often like that.” The woman’s words were professional enough, but Trynn could detect a slight edge to her voice.

  “Look—he sounded like he was getting angry, so I should probably get started before he takes out his frustration on anyone else,” Trynn said apologetically, fumbling with her bag and keys as she started moving towards the hallway.

  “Yes, all right. His office is just down this hallway on the left,” The teller said, sounding relieved.

  Trynn gave her a wave of thanks and walked confidently down the hallway. She casually glanced back, pretending to examine the various pictures hung artfully on the walls, but in reality she was making sure that no one was watching her. She passed right by the bank manager’s office and turned left as soon as she could, traveling deeper into the building, where there were fewer offices and more storage closets.

  It took a bit of searching to find the room housing the bank’s router, but once she did, it took only a few seconds to check the sticker on the bottom and memorize the router key and Wi-Fi password. Afterward, she found the empty office that held a few desks and the one chair she was currently occupying.

  As soon as her computer was connected to the supposedly secure Wi-Fi, she located the company intranet—available to all employees, but allegedly protected against outside agents.

  Using a Trojan horse, she was able to bypass their firewall and enter the system.

  The entire hack job took her less than twelve minutes. She made a note of that on her computer, as well as comments about the entrance and how easily she was able to access the private areas of the building unhindered.

  “Too easy,” she said in a quiet voice, bent low over her laptop. “Way too easy.”

  “Hey, what are you doing in here?” A voice asked in Cypriot Greek, interrupting her thinking. Trynn looked up and found an older gentleman who looked like he could work for the maintenance crew standing in the doorway. She expected him to look suspicious, but found that his eyes raked up and down her legs, which were crossed in front of her.

  Trynn leaned forward seductively and said, “Can I tell you a secret?”

  The older man straightened up, his wrinkled face going pink as he switched to English. “Yes, of course.”

  “I’m new here on the executive staff, and I’m not quite used to the noise out in the lobby yet,” she said, pitching her voice low. “I’ve been sneaking back here to do some online training. It’s much quieter, you see.”

  “Oh!” The man said with a bright smile. “Yes. Um. Welcome to Hellenic. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around more.”

  Trynn gave an airy wave of her hand. “I’m afraid I’ve been stuck in meetings for the most part, or trying to do this training. I haven’t really had a chance to meet everyone yet.”

  “Well, watch out for the other guy on my crew, yes? He’s a real prankster,” the old man said with a twinkle in his eye. He glanced down at Trynn’s legs again before looking back into her face. “I was just checking, since no one ever uses this office. Now I know to keep an eye out for you hiding back here.”

  “Just as long as you don’t give away my secret, or everyone else will follow me back here to talk, too,” she said with a sly wink.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” he said genially, and placed a hand over his heart in a theatrical gesture before lifting one finger to his lips in a shushing motion. He left the room without another word, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

  Trynn let out the breath she had been holding as the man left. Of course, she had a get-out-of-jail-free card in her pocket, of sorts, along with her identification—but she really didn’t want to have to use it. Partly because she could think of better things to do with her time than explain her job over and over again to the authorities, and partly because she had a reputation to uphold. She was the only current employee at Trajan who had never been detained by a client, and she intended to keep it that way.

  Trynn told her co-workers that it was her devilish smile that disarmed people and encouraged trust, but secretly she thought she was just better than most at reading people—as she had done with the janitor, just now.

  He might have had a roving eye, but at heart he was the fatherly type, wanting to keep an eye out for others’ best interests.

  Taking advantage of the nature of the people she came across was what made her one of the top hackers at Trajan. Many of the other employees were world-class computer experts, but could barely intera
ct with people at a level deeper than awkward stares and delayed blinking.

  “The best of both worlds, that’s me,” Trynn murmured to the empty office.

  No one bothered her for the remainder of her attack on the bank’s security system. Several other people walked by, but they were either too preoccupied with their own business to bother with her, or else the janitor had instructed them to leave her alone.

  She wasn’t hiding, by any means. The light in the room was on and she made no effort to keep her noises to a minimum as she worked steadily through the firewalls and protective systems around the most lucrative accounts.

  Trynn embedded a marker in the deepest lines of computer code in the entire system, which would serve as a beacon to her company as proof of her penetration into the program. The beacon would self-eliminate within 30 days, so she wasn’t worried about it disrupting any of their systems.

  “Well, that’s a wrap,” she said as she logged off her computer. Standing up, Trynn adjusted her tailored pants suit and slipped her trusty computer back into her shoulder bag.

  As she slipped out of the partially open door, Trynn shut the light off and walked back towards the lobby, brazen as anything. Guessing that she would run into the woman who had let her into the building, she pulled her phone out, ready to fake an urgent conversation with a non-existent supervisor.

  As she rounded the corner back to the main hallway, a cacophony of sounds met her ears. There were screams and cries, but they sounded as if they were fading in the distance.

  What on earth was going on?

  Trynn strained her ears, trying to make sense of the disturbance—completely bewildered. She slowed her pace and looked around, apprehension rising like a cold tide. There seemed to be no one in the lobby, although the revolving door was still turning.

  A crazed shriek pierced the uneasy silence of the lobby.

  As if in slow motion, Trynn’s eyes swiveled. She saw a man rushing towards her, covered head to toe in black, from his scuffed leather boots to his balaclava.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Her heart rate seemed to slow as the man approached her, waving some kind of device, like an old remote control, in his hand. Trynn watched the man’s mouth move, but she couldn’t hear any words coming out.

  He gestured angrily to one side with his free hand. Still in slow motion, Trynn looked over and saw a small group of people huddled on the floor opposite the front door, a few meters to the left of the hallway she had just come from.

  “What the fuck are you doing? I told everyone to get down! Get your fucking ass over there with the rest of them!” the man yelled in Greek.

  It seemed as if his words were sped up, pitched higher than she would have expected and twice as fast as normal speech. Yet, his motions appeared sluggish, as if she were seeing things at half speed.

  “Get your ass over there now!” he insisted, jerking his hand with the remote control towards her.

  For a moment, Trynn’s rebellious nature tried to rear its head, urging her to refuse to cooperate with this asshole. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she saw a man huddled by the wall wrap his arm protectively around the woman next to him, who was quaking in fear.

  I can’t refuse this guy, Trynn thought, practicality returning. What if I set him off and he kills all these innocent people?

  There was nothing for it. She would have to resist the urge to fight back and just do what the man said… for the moment, at least.

  Trynn took a step forward and nearly stumbled, her feet evidently still rooted in shock. As the man turned more fully towards her, Trynn’s eyes were drawn to the vest that was wrapped around his shoulders and waist.

  It was a bomb. She’d seen enough photos in the news to recognize a suicide vest when she saw one.

  The fear that should probably have come earlier chose that moment to body slam her. She gasped and tried to back away from the man, but he lunged forward and grabbed her arm.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he growled. “You get over there right now, bitch, and get on your fucking knees just like them! I swear to God I will blow us all sky-high if you don’t fucking well do what I say!”

  Terror clawed its way up Trynn’s back, overpowering her desire to fight as she realized that the man was clearly insane.

  He jabbed her in the back with something. A weapon? His fist? The sharp pain over her kidney forced Trynn to take a few faltering steps towards the small group of people being held hostage. Fighting the paralysis of fear that was wrapping itself inexorably around her limbs, Trynn sank to the ground next to a woman with curly brown hair who was shivering where she knelt.

  The madman surveyed them, looming over them. “Keep your mouths shut—I don’t want to hear a word from any of you!”

  Breathe, just breathe, she told herself. You’re going to have to think, Trynn. Think your way out of this.

  But it was useless. The only thing that happened when she took several fast, deep breaths was that a sharp pain crept up her throat and she felt the world spin around her. Knowing that she was in danger of hyperventilating, Trynn forced herself to take slower breaths until the spinning slowed, and eventually stopped.

  The suicide bomber was shouting again, but Trynn was concentrating too much on regaining control of herself to translate his words in her mind. When her ears finally caught up with the rest of her, Trynn realized that the man was making demands.

  “Don’t you get it? There’s nothing anyone can say to talk me out of this! I want a fucking helicopter to land on the roof in the next thirty minutes. I’ve got to get out of here. The government is watching our every move and I can’t take it anymore! No, you shut up!”

  By the end of his tirade, the man was screaming and clutching his head. Trynn looked around, bewildered, since everyone in the group around her had remained completely silent. She’d thought maybe he was talking to someone on a cell phone, but it appeared that he was having a conversation entirely with himself.

  “Syria, Syria, Syria, Syria,” he muttered under his breath as he stalked back and forth, scratching his head with his left hand, still grasping the remote in his right.

  Trynn wanted to ask him what exactly needed to happen for them to be let go, but her throat had gone completely dry and she didn’t think she could manage to get a word out.

  “I want you all to lie down! Yeah—on the ground. Now!” the bomber hissed, glancing around wildly at the large glass panes in front of the bank. Slowly, not daring to take her eyes off the bomber’s hands, Trynn lowered herself onto the hard floor, turning her face to the side so that she could continue to monitor the man as he paced back and forth.

  “No!” he shouted a moment later, backing away from the group with a terrified expression. “No! That’s not right! Get up! All of you, get the fuck up and kneel with your fucking hands behind your heads. Do it, now!”

  Trynn pushed herself up, just as slowly as she had dropped down, and laced her fingers behind her head.

  The bomber stared at the group and, once satisfied that everyone was following his directives, he stalked away and started rifling through a desk hidden behind a half wall. Occasionally, he threw looks at them as if checking to make sure they hadn’t moved, but he did not speak to them again.

  “What does he want?” Trynn breathed to the woman next to her, barely moving her lips. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself and have the man wearing the bomb come back towards them. “He said something about a helicopter?”

  “That’s right. A helicopter and a million Euros,” the woman whispered back in heavily accented English. “Kept saying that the government is watching him.”

  Trynn felt a little ironic laugh escape her throat. “Well, if they weren’t before, they certainly will be now.”

  “Make sure that the helicopter can out-fly Syrian border patrol!” The man yelled without warning. The brown-haired woman flinched and did not speak again.

  For nearly an hour, Trynn knelt on the hard tile insi
de the bank, praying for an end to the situation. Although there were no police directly outside the large bay windows, she could vaguely hear the sound of a helicopter hovering in the distance somewhere. Occasionally the flash of blue light would reflect off one of the windows outside the building, giving Trynn hope that help was here and they would be rescued.

  As one hour stretched into two, that hope began to die in her heart. She was in agony, having held the same awkward kneeling position for so long. Every time the bomber would turn his back, she would drop one hand to ease the strain on her back and knees for a moment.

  The woman next to her shook her head frantically every time Trynn did this, even though her dark eyes were watering with pain.

  Every now and then, Trynn would hear a soft sniffle from one of the hostages, none of whom were speaking. The bomber continued to pace, occasionally screaming out a string of profanity, and at other times falling into a moody silence.

  Jesus. He’s absolutely batshit, Trynn thought. I’m going to end up blown to bits in fucking Nicosia by a crazy man with a bomb strapped to his chest.

  The thought sent ice through Trynn’s heart, and she tried in vain to keep her emotions in check. It was beyond difficult, as she fought the tears of despair threatening to fill her eyes.

  Would this nightmare never end?

  TWO

  ERIS STARED DOWN AT the elegant chess set before him. It was laid out on an antique, carved wooden table, set near the floor-to-ceiling windows in the luxurious hotel room where he and his silent, uninvited chess partner were staying. The drapes were drawn to protect the two of them from the deadly rays of the Mediterranean sun, but he glanced through the heavy fabric for a few moments as the glowing orb sank ponderously below the jagged lines of Nicosia’s cityscape.

  He had chosen the Merit Lefkosa Hotel partly for its extravagant amenities, and partly because a brief conversation with the hotel manager had ended with a rather hefty amount of money changing hands in exchange for the assurance that Eris wouldn’t be asked too many questions. Often, anonymity was the easiest way to proceed when dealing with mortals.