by I. T. Lucas
It was important to him to have his finger on the pulse of humanity and be apprised of which way public opinion was blowing. A quick scan through the headlines and the editorials sufficed.
Rami walked into the living room with the newspaper folded under his arm, and his laptop clutched in his hand.
“Would you like the newspaper first or the report, sir?” his assistant asked.
“The report.”
“Naturally, sir. Would you like me to print you a copy before we begin?”
“No need. Just tell me the highlights.” Assistants were meant to save time. There was no need for Losham to read over every detail. Rami was smart enough to figure out what required his attention and what did not.
“Of course.” Rami bowed.
“Let’s do it out in the garden. Bring out a good bottle of whiskey and a bowl of nuts.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Losham glanced at the view through the open patio doors, he could see the entire San Francisco Bay including the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge.
The house had been a splurge which he’d justified as being a good investment. But the truth was that he just wanted it, and it had not been offered for rent. The structure itself wasn’t big, or even opulent, but it was enough for him and his assistant, and Losham had furnished it lavishly.
Besides, its best feature was the garden and the view from it.
Losham was spending most of his time out there while managing the various operations his father had put him in charge of. If it were up to him, Losham would have never returned to the island, but his father demanded updates in person.
It was as good as it was going to get. Other than the once-a-month trips to the island, Losham enjoyed freedom away from Navuh’s tight control.
Unfortunately, trip number five was coming up soon.
“Would there be anything else?” Rami asked as he returned from setting up the table outside.
Losham rose to his feet and waved a hand at the garden. “What more could we ask for?”
Rami smiled and inclined his head.
His assistant was having the time of his life away from the island and its strict rules against any deviation from the norm. Here, there was no need for Rami to hide his preferences while out on the town, only when dealing with the warriors Losham was in charge of, and the selection of possible partners was nearly limitless. Young men flocked to the city, and not only for work.
Still, there were enough heterosexual men around to keep Losham’s club turning healthy profits. In fact, the SF club was the most profitable in the chain, especially ever since he had brought in paid service providers.
That part of the operation he was not proud of. Not because he didn’t approve, but because it was beneath him to act as a glorified pimp.
Except, he’d discovered that the operation wasn’t as simple as he had expected, and he couldn't leave it to someone else yet. Trafficking inside the borders of a progressive, democratic country needed to be done carefully and discreetly, and there were many moving parts to coordinate.
Abducting girls and immediately shipping them to the island was a straightforward operation. Training them and putting them to work within the borders of the United States required much more sophistication.
“Okay, Rami. What do you have for me?”
“Should I start with the drug trade or the human flesh trade?” Rami asked with a straight face.
Losham sighed. How far he had fallen. From the lofty position of strategizing wars and political maneuvering, he had been reduced to dealing with the ugly sludge of humanity.
Nevertheless, this degrading step was necessary to refill the Brotherhood’s coffers as quickly as possible so they could move on to the next stage of his plan: catching up to the clan’s technological level and leapfrogging over it.
“Let’s start with the drug trade. It still makes much more money than the other one.”
“Indeed, sir. And the warriors are quite happy doing it since you offered them a small cut in the profits.”
Losham grimaced. “Apparently not all of them are satisfied. Did you find out who is responsible for the recent killings?”
Once it had been decided to abandon the hunt for Guardians, at least for the time being, the warriors had been instructed to stop killing human women. They were free to frequent the clubs at their leisure, but the idea was to maintain a presence, not to lure in Guardians. Naturally, if the occasional immortal civilian were encountered, they were free to do with him as they pleased.
The men had seemed happy when the order had been rescinded. The Brotherhood held females in low regard but acknowledged their value as breeders. Killing them was considered a waste of resources.
As expected, the warriors had obeyed.
But then two recent cases had been reported in the news of females who had been left to bleed to death from twin puncture wounds to the neck. Apparently, one of the warriors had gotten a taste for it and didn’t want to quit.
“You said it wasn’t a priority, sir.”
It wasn’t. In fact, an occasional murder might be just what was needed to keep the clan wasting resources on shoring up their defenses.
“No, you’re right, it is not. I’m just curious who is doing it and why.”
Even if the Brotherhood benefited from the killer’s insubordination, it still needed to be dealt with.
8
Kian
“I don’t like it,” Anandur grumbled. “Having the Guardian meeting outdoors is a security problem. The fact that we are in the village and there are no humans around doesn't mean we should broadcast our business to everyone.”
“Take a seat, Anandur.” Kian pointed to a chair. “We are not out in the open. This is a private enclave of the administration building which is occupied only by council members and Guardians. Besides, nothing on the agenda for today is confidential.”
Turner stretched his arms and then crossed them behind his head and tilted his face toward the sun. “It’s a beautiful day. It would’ve been a shame to waste a couple of hours indoors if we can have the meeting in this lovely garden.”
The transformation the guy had undergone was profound. And it wasn’t only physical. Turner’s face looked younger but also more relaxed, and he smiled more often which further softened his features. The difference in height wasn’t all that significant, he was still short compared to Kian, but Turner was very happy about the inch and a half he’d gained.
The guy was also back in fantastic shape. After waking up from his coma with atrophied muscles, it must’ve been one hell of an effort to regain what he’d lost and to add more.
Turner never did anything half-assed.
The most notable change, however, was the mop of blond hair on his previously bald head. The guy was really enjoying his new hair and the fact that it was fast growing had allowed him to try a new style every week.
Kian wondered if Turner would still feel the same in a couple of centuries. Fast growing hair was a pain in the butt. Who had the time to deal with all the haircuts?
Onegus pulled a stack of papers out of his briefcase and handed everyone a page. “Those are just the main points. I emailed you the rest, but I know some of you never read your emails.” He glared at Arwel.
Kian scanned the page before putting it on the table. “Let’s start at the top. The monastery. What’s the status with that?”
Onegus folded the page into a small square and tucked it inside his shirt pocket. “The place is ready. Ingrid is putting in the finishing touches on the interior design. It’s not fancy, since the emphasis was on comfort, durability, and low cost, but it looks good. The girls are going to love their little rooms.”
Taking into account Vanessa’s input, the bedrooms of the reconstructed monastery had been reconfigured to allow single occupancy and provide privacy, which meant that everything had been scaled down and there was not much room to put in anything other than a single bed, a compact desk and a chair.
“I want to see it.” Kian turned to his assistant. “Shai, put it on my schedule.”
The guy lifted a brow. “I’m afraid that it will have to wait for next year. Your schedule is full for the coming months.”
Kian waved a hand. “Move things around.”
“Where to?”
Amanda put down her paper cup, probably filled with coffee from one of the building’s vending machines, and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can take Syssi with you and call it a date.”
That was actually not a bad idea. After realizing that unless it was on his schedule, he and Syssi were never going to go out like a normal couple, Kian had told Shai to mark off two time-blocks a week for personal time.
“Make it so, Shai. This Saturday.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Next item, although it is not on the agenda. How is the retraining of the old Guardians going?”
“They are ready,” Brundar said. “After they have gained some field experience, and we’ve had a chance to evaluate their performance, we can transfer command of the units to the most capable members.”
Currently, they were divided into six units, each commanded by one of the Guardians from the original group.
“Can I start scheduling them for raids?” Turner asked.
Brundar nodded. “Start them on small operations.”
“Naturally.”
“Next item,” Kian said. “The reported Doomer sighting.”
“Yes.” Onegus pulled out his laptop and flipped it open. “A civilian emailed us, claiming to have encountered Doomers in a San Francisco nightclub.”
“How did he get away?” Arwel asked.
“He claims that he recognized who they were before they noticed him and made a hasty exit.”
“Is it possible the guy was paranoid and only thought he saw Doomers?” Yamanu asked.
“Could be.” Kian tapped his fingers on the printed page. “But I think we should investigate. With the old Guardians ready for action, we have the manpower to scope the clubs in the area. If Doomers are back on the night scene, I need to reinstate the prohibition on clubs.”
“I’ll go,” Anandur volunteered. “If you can spare me, that is. I don’t think it’s a good idea to deploy a large force before determining if the report is valid. First, I’ll question the civilian and check if there is anything to it. If there is, Onegus can then send reinforcements to scope the clubs.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “All in the spirit of saving money, right, boss?”
“Spoken like a true tightwad,” Yamanu said.
That earned him a flick to the back of the head. “Watch out, weirdo.”
“Who are you calling a weirdo?” Yamanu widened his pale blue eyes, leaned toward Anandur, and stared into his eyes.
The big oaf lifted his hands to block the sight and turned his head sideways. “Not the eyes, please, not the eyes!” Anandur cried in mock horror.
“Idiots,” Kri mumbled.
Stifling a laugh, Kian drummed his fingers on the table to get everyone’s attention. “Agreed. Take one of the new Guardians with you.” He turned to Brundar. “I’m sure you’d rather stay here, right?”
Before Callie, the brothers had been inseparable. They had lived together and had gone on missions together, but now that Brundar had found his true love, things were changing. The Guardian preferred to stay close to home, which he no longer shared with his brother.
Anandur was putting a happy face on it, but the big guy looked a little lost and much less upbeat than usual. Maybe a trip to San Francisco was just the change in atmosphere he needed.
“I’ll take Magnus.” Anandur cast a quick glance at his brother. “That is if you’re sure you don’t want to come.”
Brundar arched a brow. “What do you think?”
With a sigh, Anandur leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Magnus it is.”
9
Wonder
Present day.
“I brought you new books.” Wonder pushed the worn-out paperbacks through the bars of Grud’s cage.
Her prisoner didn’t answer, but he took the books and added them to the growing stack by his mattress.
“It’s Jules Verne, your favorite.”
Grud shrugged. “Are you expecting me to thank you?”
He had a point.
It had been months since she had caught the immortals and locked them inside their cages. Wonder hadn’t let any of them out yet, not even once.
In the movies she’d seen, jailed prisoners didn’t spend their entire time locked up in their cells. They went out to the exercise yard and were given work to do.
It was unusually cruel to keep hers in perpetual lockdown.
In a moment of weakness, she’d even bought reinforced handcuffs with the intention of taking them out one at a time and letting them stretch their legs by walking around the warehouse. But it was just too dangerous.
The men were immortal, like her, and as such were probably incredibly strong. She could not afford to take the risk. Unlike a real jail, hers had only one jailer and no backup in case a prisoner misbehaved.
When the murders had stopped after she had caught Mordan, Wonder had assumed that she had the entire murderous ring contained. For months there was nothing, and then three weeks ago another murder had been committed in precisely the same way. Yesterday, a second body had been found.
There was another murderer out there, and Wonder just knew that she was going to find him the same as she’d found those three.
It seemed as if this was her fate all along, and that everything that had happened to her led her to this place. Her incredible strength, the fighting moves that came to her as naturally as if she was born a warrior, the security position she’d been given at the club, it had all been for a reason.
There was one ingredient missing, though. Wonder wanted none of that. Fate had messed up by choosing her for the job. If it were up to her, Wonder would have put on a nice dress, let her hair down, and worked as a teacher, or a librarian, or any other job that was as far removed from violence as possible and didn’t require her to get her hands dirty—literally and figuratively.
But that was not the ticket she’d drawn.
Somehow the murderer would end up in her back alley, and she would immediately sense his otherness.
With Grud, she hadn’t known what to look for yet, and it had taken her brushing against him to trigger her senses. With the other two, she had known what to expect—a male who would trigger that very particular sense of alarm.
“What about me?” Shaveh asked.
“I have comics for you.” She shoved a stack of five through the slot in the bottom of his cage.
Sometimes she wondered if the guy knew how to read at all. He had never opened any of the books she had brought him, but he liked flipping through magazines and looking at the pictures, and he liked comics.
Mordan enjoyed crossword puzzles and Sudoku, even though he sucked at both. But at least he was trying to keep his gray matter from rotting away.
Out of the three, Grud was the only one with a brain, and he did most of the thinking and talking for them. In the beginning, he kept trying to convince her to let them go but had eventually given up. Now that the murders had resumed, he was at it again.
“Has there been another murder?” Grud asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. They found another body last night.”
He got up and grabbed the bars of his cage. “You see? I told you the killer was out there, not in here, and that you’re keeping innocent men locked up.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Right, and I also imagined the three of you with your fangs inside your victims' throats.”
Grud shook his head. “I’ve told you a hundred times already. All immortal males bite during sex. The biting is for pleasure, not to kill, not females anyway. It goes against everything we believe in. We can’t overdose a woman even if we wanted to. It doesn’t work like that.�
�
Supposedly, the only time an immortal male used his fangs and venom to do harm was in a fight with another immortal male.
Shaveh and Mordan supported Grud’s claim, but Wonder didn’t believe any of them. They were either lying or telling her half-truths. After all, in each case she’d seen the woman crumple to the ground like a discarded rag doll. She had been the one to seal the puncture wounds with her saliva, not the male who’d caused them. Though to be fair, they couldn’t do much after getting Tasered.
Except, if any of the three had been indeed just having sex, and if biting was an integral part of it, he would’ve sealed the holes instead of letting his partner drop to the ground with a bleeding neck.
Still, even though she was quite certain of their guilt, she’d figured that even prisoners on death row were granted some privileges.
“Here is your Sudoku, Mordan.” She shoved the little booklet inside his cage.
“I need a new pencil,” he said as he collected it from the floor.
“I’ll get you one.”
“You are so kind,” Grud grumbled sarcastically.
Well, what did he want her to do?
For murderers, they were treated quite well, for the simple reason that Wonder had a soft heart and could not stand to see even the worst of scum suffer in subhuman conditions.
That was why she brought them books so they would have something to do other than stare at the walls, and why she had gone to the Salvation Army store and had bought them a bunch of fresh clothes and blankets. She even hosed down their cages daily and, upon Grud’s request, their bodies every other day.
Not to mention the food she cooked for them, even though it was mostly rice and beans. With her modest means, that was the best she could do to keep three grown males fed.
As it was, Wonder felt like a fool for doing so much for three killers of innocent women. Not that they had actually killed anyone, but that was because she had intervened. Otherwise, these women would have died just like those in the newspapers.
