Goddess’s Choice

by I. T. Lucas

  “They are not gonna like it, boss.”

  “I know, but until we figure out what went down, they’ll be chilling their butts over here. I’d rather have them pissed than dead.”

  Kian ended the call and turned to the Guardians. By the look of their somber faces, they were ready to hear the bad news, waiting for the boulder to start rolling and come crashing down on them.

  It was one of those moments everyone dreads; the unexpected disaster striking out of nowhere, destroying the illusion that you’re in control, and shoving the cruel reality in your face.

  Shit happens! Deal with it!

  Squaring his shoulders, Kian delivered the grim update. “As you’ve probably figured out, we have a situation. Mark, son of Micah, was murdered in his home last night.” Kian lifted his phone to show them the DOOM emblem. “This was left behind, taped to his computer screen.”

  “Fuck!” was the only response from Anandur. Brundar and Onegus looked ready to kill, and Kri sniffled, trying to hold back her tears.

  None of them knew Mark very well, but they knew of him; the clan’s genius programmer. His loss was devastating not only on a personal level but also as an asset that would be difficult to replace.

  Kian sat down and dropped his elbows on the table, then hung his head on his fisted hands. “It’s all my fault. I take full responsibility,” he admitted, the guilt eating at his gut.

  With a curse, Onegus brought his fist down on the table. “How could it be your fault, Kian? Beyond your usual spiel of being Regent and responsible for everyone and everything. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  “It is my fault. I might as well have placed a neon sign, pointing to his head and blinking: Here I am. Come get me! Anyone with half a brain could’ve figured out that a code this sophisticated couldn’t have been developed with current knowhow.”

  Kian had known he was taking a big risk by allowing Mark to leak too much info too soon. But he had felt he had no choice. The risk of WMDs in the hands of power-hungry despots outweighed the risk of exposure. And besides, he had never imagined that the Doomers would come after Mark. He’d assumed that if they’d retaliate, they’d do it the same way they had always done, using the mortals under their influence against those the clan was helping.

  Kian continued, “After so many years with no casualties, we’ve become complacent. And even before, the few of us the Doomers managed to snare were random cases of a male being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’ve never been able to hunt us down successfully; there are just too few of us, and we hide too well. Except now, I feel like I’ve drawn the fuckers a goddamned yellow brick road!”

  “Maybe they just got lucky with Mark?” Kri suggested. Which earned her the condescending you-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look from the others.

  “No, guys, just hear me out. Think of how the Doomers always retaliated before. They went after our humans or helped theirs against ours. Suppose the Doomers were seeking revenge on the team that worked on that code. They somehow find them, identify Mark as the top programmer, and decide to take him out; send us a message. I bet they didn’t even know he was one of us.”

  Kri got more animated. “We never used to work so close with mortals. We’d supply a bit of information and back off, let them work on it, figure it on their own. Then we’d supply some more, so it would look legit—home grown. No way the Doomers were expecting to find an immortal working on the same team with mortals. No freaking way!” Kri stared them down, daring them to try and refute her logic.

  “She might have a point,” Onegus admitted.

  “Even if Kri is right, that doesn’t change the outcome. Doomers still found and murdered Mark. And now that they have a clue as to what to look for and where, they might find more of us.” Kian pushed to his feet and walked over to Kri. “Good thinking, though. You’re a smart girl.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  At any other time, under different circumstances, Kri would’ve been ecstatic to receive this kind of praise from Kian. Now, she just nodded and reached for his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it back.

  “Sire, the waffles are ready!” Okidu chose that moment to bring in a loaded platter. He placed it carefully on the sideboard, then scurried away, expecting a stampede. But the food was ignored.

  “Thank you, Okidu,” Kian dismissed him. “Actually, I need you to do one more thing. Make sure we have four clean, vacant apartments ready, and if you could, please air Amanda’s penthouse. We are about to have overnight guests.”

  “Certainly, sire!” Okidu bowed.

  “Thank you.” Kian nodded to Okidu and faced the Guardians.

  “Onegus, I want you to call an emergency council meeting for nine in the evening today. Don’t tell them what it’s about. I don’t want anyone calling Micah to offer condolences before I see her. No one should get news like that over the phone. We’ll meet in the big council room. Instruct everyone to wear their ceremonial robes. I’m going to demand sequestering for all council members, which they will surely bitch and moan about. But we don’t have enough manpower to provide security detail for each of them separately. I need them here, protected. Hopefully, the formalities will impress upon them how serious I am about this. That will be all.”

  Kian’s eyes followed his people as they pushed away from the table and silently trudged toward the living room. Onegus pulled open the front door, and with a slight nod, left followed by the somber brothers. Kri remained behind, looking lost.

  Walking up to her, Kian took her in his arms and let her burrow her nose into his neck, hugging her for a long moment. Being so young, she had never faced the loss of a friend, and unlike the men’s emotions which had been deadened by centuries of countless battles, hers were still raw with pain and grief. When she sighed and let go of him, he looked into her eyes, making sure she was okay.

  But there was a reason he’d taken Kri on as a guardian. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed her chin up, and the determination he saw in her eyes proved to him that she really was the hard-ass he’d hired.

  “Go, I need time to plan.” He dismissed her with a pat to her back.

  Alone, Kian allowed himself to drift on the waves of guilt and dread for a few moments, letting his mind go in different directions, envisioning every foreseeable danger and coming up with creative if not feasible solutions. It was an old and tried technique of his. Like purging out the pus from a malignant wound; eventually the blood would run clean, and healing would start.

  Regrettably, other than the steps he’d already taken, he came up with nothing.

  First thing on his agenda was persuading his sister to move into the keep. Out of all the council members, he expected her to give him the most trouble. He’d better talk to her before the meeting and prepare her. It would save him the public drama. Besides, getting Amanda to safety was a priority.

  Good luck with that.

  Preparing for battle, he pulled out his phone and called her.

  After the initial shock over the news had worn off and her sniffles had subsided, she protested, “I can’t just abandon my lab or not show up for classes.

  Kian cut her short. “So come to the meeting and vote against!”

  “You know how the vote will go!” she hissed.

  “Yes I do. And if you had an ounce of wisdom in that brain of yours, you wouldn’t be fighting me over this. More than your life is in danger. If they find you, they wouldn’t kill you, you’d just wish they had.”

  Amanda huffed. “You’re overestimating the risk. They are not going to find me. And if you’re that concerned about my safety, assign a couple of Guardians to watch over me.”

  “You know we are short on Guardians. That’s why I’m calling for the sequestering of all council members. I just can’t keep everyone safe unless they are all in one location.”

  “Find a solution. I’m not leaving my work.” She ended the call.

  Kian sighed and ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, smoothing back the flyawa
y strands. He’d have to go over to her place himself and convince her it was the smart thing to do.

  Or, what was more likely, drag her out kicking and screaming.

  10

  Kian

  It was oppressively quiet in the SUV on the way to Amanda’s lab. The Lexus’s almost soundproof interior filtered the outside traffic noise, leaving Brundar and Anandur’s tight-lipped silence undisturbed.

  Kian craved a cigarette, desperately, and a shot of whiskey or two.

  He’d quit smoking years ago, but here and there the craving returned with gusto. Like it did now. It wasn’t concern for his health that had prompted him to get rid of the habit, after all, his kind didn’t get cancer or heart disease. He just hated smelling like an ashtray. The way the stench had used to cling to his hair and clothing had disgusted him.

  Though he would kill for one now.

  Comforting the devastated Micah had been excruciating. It had left him empty and deflated. There was no good way to deliver this kind of news to a mother. You offered your sympathy, said how sorry you were, offered your help in anything and everything.

  Blah, blah, blah... The words hadn’t even registered. In the end, he’d just held her while she’d cried.

  And in the aftermath, he’d been left with no energy to deal with Amanda.

  Heaving a sigh, Kian gazed out the window and watched the cars passing them by. He wondered what kind of sorrows their mortal occupants were hiding behind their impassive expressions.

  There was so much anguish in their short, miserable lives, and family dying on them was such an integral part of their experience that it defined the whole of their existence. He suspected humans coped with the depressing certainty of their own mortality by keeping it out of their thoughts in any way they could. It sucked.

  To lose a loved one was the worst experience ever. He wouldn’t allow that to happen to him.

  Not again.

  There was nothing he could’ve done to prevent Lilen’s death all those centuries ago, but he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to his obstinate sister.

  Not on his watch.

  Fisting his hands, he felt his lips curl in a snarl as his resolve hardened. He would march into that lab, throw Amanda over his shoulder, and carry her to the SUV. And he didn’t give a damn if he had to do it while she was kicking and screaming the whole way. To keep her safe, he’d even lock her in one of the underground cells.

  Yeah, that sounds good. Easiest way to deal with the brat.

  Kian took a deep breath. Okay... like that will fly.

  He needed to chill.

  Patience is a virtue, he repeated. Patience is a virtue.

  Yeah, it just wasn’t one of his.

  Let someone else get that merit badge. Kian didn’t plan on applying for sainthood anytime soon.

  Taking the elevator down to Amanda’s lab, he wondered if it just happened to be in the basement of the research facility or had Amanda chosen it because she preferred working underground.

  It seemed to be a natural default, an unconscious preference for his kind. The older ones, like him, still suffered from some sensitivity to harsh light, but it was nothing a pair of quality sunglasses couldn’t handle, and certainly nothing that bothered the younger immortals.

  Still, the original race of gods had truly shunned the sunlight. Their sensitive eyes had to be covered in protective goggles to filter even the little light that could infiltrate through the sides of a more ordinary protective eyewear.

  There had been no windows in their dwellings. Instead, shafts positioned diagonally through the thick walls had provided airflow while minimizing sunlight.

  The flip side of this handicap had been an excellent night vision, which near-immortals shared to some degree with their ancestors. The gods had been nocturnal creatures, more comfortable in the relative darkness of the night when the soft glow of the moon and stars replaced the harsh sunlight. So much gentler on their sensitive eyes and skin.

  Not for the first time, it crossed his mind that his ancestors must’ve been at the source of the outrageous vampire myths.

  Creatures with fangs that sucked blood and burned in sunlight...

  Right.

  Mortals and their wild imaginations running amok with exaggerations and embellishments.

  They got the fangs and sunlight part right, even the mind control was spot on, but where had the blood-sucking part come from? Or the red eyes for that matter? An immortal’s eyes tearing up from too much exposure to the sun’s harsh light? A careless one forgetting to lick the puncture wounds closed?

  Who knew?

  The truth was that the gods of old were at the source of many intriguing stories, with the vampire lore being one of the most imaginative. In his opinion, however, the legends of the snake people were more fitting. What was it about bats that so fascinated mortals that they preferred them to snakes? Not that he was all that fond of reptiles himself. Besides, the things couldn’t fly, and as this particular ability was part of what made the vampire stories work, the bats kind of made sense.

  His bodyguards were still uncharacteristically quiet as they made their way down the corridor, the rhythmic beat of their boots on the concrete floor the only indication that they were still with him.

  He wasn’t expecting Brundar to be chattering away, but Anandur’s silence bothered him. Kian turned to look back at the brothers. Though grimly focused, their eyes were following their feet instead of scoping the place.

  Not good.

  “Snap out of it, guys! And stay alert! You think it’s safe down here just because there are people all around us?”

  “What jumped and bit you on the ass, Kian! You think I don’t pay attention? I have been doing the same shit for how long now? A millennium? I can do it sleepwalking.” Anandur sounded more pissed than offended.

  “Yeah, yeah. You may kiss my ass to make it all better, lick it clean too!” Kian jumped sideways to avoid the punch Anandur aimed at his shoulder.

  At least the guy was smiling now.

  Brundar shook his head and kept going, leaving them behind.

  Stopping at the junction of corridors that terminated at the one leading to Amanda’s lab, Kian called him back. “Stay here. This is a good spot. You can see everyone coming this way from either direction.” He pointed to where he wanted them to stand guard.

  “I’m going in by myself. The hellion is not going to like an audience.”

  Not exactly. Amanda loved drama. It was Kian who could live without it. “Try not to attract any attention to yourselves, and stay alert!”

  11

  Anandur

  Leaning against the wall next to his brother, Anandur smirked as he watched Kian duck into Amanda’s lab. The guy was in for one hell of a fight, and if Kian thought it would go down easier without an audience, he was deluding himself.

  “Man, I would’ve loved to see that,” he told Brundar.

  His brother ignored him, as usual not interested in talking.

  Anandur shook his head and turned his attention to the sparse foot traffic. A trio of giggling girls was heading his way, and he had to admit that staying out in the corridor was proving to be quite entertaining.

  The girls were eyeing him and his brother with unabashed interest, smiling and sauntering as they got closer.

  Gutsy, forward minxes.

  Evidently, it was easier said than done for him and Brundar to avoid attracting attention.

  Not that he had a problem with that.

  With what they were wearing, or rather not wearing, he got himself a healthy eyeful of young female flesh. In addition to the painted-on, torn jeans all three were wearing, the tall brunette’s T-shirt was open at the sides with her purple lace bra showing, while her friend’s sported so many slashes that there was hardly any of it left to cover anything. And the one with the spiky pink hair wore a tiny thing with a Mickey Mouse picture on it that looked like something she’d swiped off her kid brother.

  Go
t to love this generation, Anandur thought as he flashed them his best seductive smile and winked.

  Their response to his blatantly masculine charm was as immediate as it was predictable, and his nostrils flared as the unmistakable, sweet smell of female arousal reached him, triggering his predatory instincts.

  Brundar wasn’t doing much better. Growling quietly beside him, his brother’s body tensed as he got ready to pounce.

  Adjusting himself, Anandur wrapped a restraining arm around Brundar’s shoulders, holding on tight and squeezing hard while smiling at the girls.

  “Damn, why are the good-looking guys always gay? It’s so unfair!” the tall one whispered to her friends.

  Anandur chuckled, his hearing more acute than the girls could ever suspect. Squeezing Brundar even harder, he kissed the top of his brother’s head.

  “I’m going to break your fucking arm if you don’t let go,” Brundar hissed.

  Frowning, Anandur released his brother with a pitying sidelong glance. The poor guy suffered from a crippling lack of a sense of humor.

  When the disappointed trio disappeared behind a corner, turning into another corridor, Brundar hastily cast a shrouding illusion around Anandur and himself. Obscuring their presence from any mortal passerby, his illusion made them appear part of the wall—undetectable unless someone bumped straight into them.

  12

  Syssi

  Syssi focused on the images flashing at evenly spaced time intervals on the screen: square, circle, star, triangle, star, circle, triangle, square...

  The shapes were popping randomly in a never-ending sequence, and her task was to guess which one would flash next and hit the appropriate key—before the image appeared.