by I. T. Lucas
She laughed. “I do not need anything special to meet my family. A living room with a couch and a couple of armchairs will do.”
15
Lokan
The phone ringing next to his ear jolted Lokan from a deep, dreamless sleep. Patting the nightstand for the receiver, he grabbed it and brought it to his ear. “Yes?”
“Heads up, Lokan. I’m bringing in your breakfast in about ten minutes.”
“What time is it?”
“Time to get up, buddy.”
“I’m up.”
Lokan had spent most of the night searching his brain for an angle that would get him out of the cell. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend the rest of his immortal life, and since no one was coming to rescue him, he had to come up with the solution himself.
His best option was to appear cooperative and get Kian and his men comfortable around him. They might let something slip that would give him an idea.
The cell’s walls were built from solid concrete, and so were the floor and the ceiling. No breaking through those. The door was reinforced steel and about a foot thick, so that wasn’t an option either.
On top of that, he had the four strange cuffs attached to his limbs that were made from some super strong alloy that was impossible to break apart. He’d tried last night. Why four though? And what were they for?
Trackers?
He had a feeling that their purpose was more nefarious than that. Did they contain a poison? A tranquilizer calibrated for immortals?
Perhaps he could coax the empath who was in charge of guarding him to talk. The guy seemed more easygoing than Kian and his bodyguards. Besides, other than them, Arwel had been the only one to enter Lokan’s cell, so he was the only option.
Realizing that he’d already wasted two of the ten allotted minutes, Lokan rushed to finish up his morning routine. When the door to his cell started moving, he was already seated on the couch, legs crossed at the knee, and affecting the same nonchalant attitude he’d had the day before.
“Good morning, Arwel,” he greeted the Guardian. “Thank you so much for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome.” The empath put a cardboard tray with two paper cups on the coffee table, and then fished out two wrapped sandwiches from a paper bag.
It seemed that Arwel didn’t get fed any better than Lokan, and the Guardian was subsisting on the same vending-machine fare.
The meager servings didn’t fit what he knew about the clan’s riches or the luxury of his cell, which led him to believe that he was the only prisoner in the clan’s dungeon, and that they didn’t have a system in place to feed their captives or the Guardians in charge of them.
This was good. It meant that Arwel was not a trained jailer.
As the Guardian lifted one of the cups and was about to turn, Lokan asked, “Would you care to join me? We are both stuck here with no one to talk to.”
Arwel chuckled. “For me, it’s an advantage. The only emotions I’m exposed to are yours, and I have to admit that they are surprisingly mild. You are either not very emotional, or you have superb self-control.”
“A little bit of both.”
Taking his cup with him, Arwel sat in one of the armchairs. “I actually volunteered for the babysitting job. The many layers of earth between us and the surface muffle the human emotions that usually float through me, leaving their slimy residue on my soul.”
That was a lot more information than Lokan had expected, and certainly not in the first ten seconds of their conversation.
First of all, Arwel had just confirmed his suspicion that they were underground, and then he’d continued revealing personal information like they were the best of friends and not sworn enemies.
He was either a very trusting soul, or he believed that Lokan was never leaving this cell, and therefore it didn’t matter what he knew.
“What about immortal emotions? If you feel mine, then you must feel other immortals’ as well.”
“I do, but not as strongly as those of humans. It’s like comparing a whisper to a shout.”
“Can you feel me through the walls? They seem quite thick.”
Arwel smiled. “They are. But I’m right next door to you in the adjacent cell, so yeah. I get your emotions.”
“I’m sorry about that. I hope that at least you were given a cell as nice as this one.”
Shaking his head, Arwel pulled a sandwich out of the paper bag. “My cell is smaller. I have a studio, not an apartment.” He unwrapped the sandwich and bit into it.
Following the Guardian’s example, Lokan lifted the cup of coffee, took a few sips, and then went for the sandwich. With what they were feeding him, he was constantly hungry, but since Arwel was eating the same crap, he could not even voice a complaint.
“If being underground is easier for you, why aren’t you stationed here permanently?”
“Nothing to do here. We normally don’t get prisoners.”
Lokan chuckled. “That explains it.” He lifted his sandwich. “Is this Kian’s idea of torture? Because it might just work. I’m so hungry that I keep fantasizing about potatoes, and I hate the suckers.”
Arwel laughed. “A Doomer with a sense of humor. That’s refreshing.”
Good, his tactic was working. Lokan hated the derogatory nickname Kian and his men had invented for the Brotherhood, but this wasn’t the time or place to mention it.
Lokan took another sip of coffee. “What about the other Brother? The one who drew my portrait? Does he have a sense of humor?”
Arwel waved a dismissive hand. “Dalhu doesn't talk much. So, I don't even know if he has one or not. He’s not stupid, though, and he really is a gifted artist. In fact, he drew that picture hanging behind you.”
Lokan turned to look at the portrait of a dark-haired beauty with a mischievous smile. “Very well done. Who is she?”
Dalhu. The name sounded vaguely familiar, and Lokan tried to link a face to it, but failed. The guy must have been a simple soldier or a low-level commander.
“His mate.”
“Oh.” That was a good enough reason to take another look. “Now I understand why he defected. She is a stunning female.”
“Yeah. She is.” Arwel seemed like he wanted to say more.
“Is she anyone important?”
“You could say so.” The Guardian put his cup down and reached into the bag for his second sandwich. “Did you think about Kian’s proposition?”
So Arwel wasn’t as free with information as Lokan had hoped. Some things he’d remained tightlipped about.
“I’m curious to see the catacombs, and I want to see with my own eyes the warriors Kian claims are in stasis.”
“He’s telling you the truth. Don’t judge him by your standards, Lokan. Kian is a fair and honest male.”
There was some truth to that insulting statement. Lokan was a liar and a manipulator, so naturally he assumed everyone else was as well.
Most of the time that assumption was correct, though, and he had no reason to believe Kian was any different.
Leaders didn’t have the luxury of taking the moral high ground, and Lokan didn’t believe the clan would be as rich if Kian were an honest businessman.
16
Carol
Talking to Kian always made Carol nervous. Especially when showing up at his office uninvited and making a request that he was most likely going to shoot down. She imagined that it was what a human woman felt when asking her stern father for permission to do something dangerous.
Kian was an authority figure, which in itself wasn’t a big problem even though she didn’t deal well with authority. Carol was too independent and too stubborn. The problem was that he was immune to her charms, and she couldn't manipulate him by batting her eyelashes and smiling innocently like she did with most other males.
Even her cousins bought her act and made concessions for her that they would not have made for anyone else. Then again, they might have been indulging her because of the hero status
she’d gained after withstanding torture and not revealing the keep’s location.
With Kian, however, she wouldn’t get far by using charm or relying on his compassion. Logic and clever arguments were the only things that would help her persuade him to let her take on Lokan. Regrettably, as one who hadn’t had much use for such intellectual methods, she wasn’t good at them.
“Are you going to just stand there?” Kian called from the other side of the door. “Come in. It’s open.”
She wasn’t a coward, and Kian’s bark was much worse than his bite.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Carol murmured under her breath as she pushed the door open. “Do you have a few moments?”
“No, but I’ll make time for you. How can I help you?”
Given the slight smirk lifting one corner of his mouth, Kian suspected the reason for her coming to see him.
Pulling out a chair, she thought about the way to start, but nothing clever came to mind, so she just went for it.
“I want to talk to Lokan and get more information about the island from him.”
Kian put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “He didn’t divulge its location yet, but once I prove to him that I’m not a murderous sociopath like his father, I believe he will.”
Excitement bubbling up in her stomach, Carol rubbed her hands. “All the more reason to let me see Lokan so I can get all the info out of him. Knowledge is power.”
“About that. Turner suspects that Navuh has the entire island’s population under his compulsion, which means that they will stay loyal to him no matter what. This blows our initial plan out of the water, because you won’t be able to incite anyone into revolting against him.”
“You said that Turner suspects it, which implies he’s not sure.”
“He is not, but after talking with Dalhu, I’m of the same opinion. It explains so much. Think about it.” He waved a hand. “Why are the Doomers loyal to a cause that doesn’t make sense, and they do so with the intensity of religious fervor? Why are they willing to be treated with such disregard and still follow their leader?”
Carol arched a brow. “Charisma? Brainwashing? Navuh is not the first evil leader to inspire an obsessed following. I’m sure you don’t need me to recite names of humans who incited their followers to commit unthinkable atrocities.”
Kian waved a hand. “But that’s the thing. What if a cult-like following is the result of compulsion? What if some rare humans possess the ability? Perhaps those humans are possessors of our godly genes?”
Carol put a hand over her heart. “Fates forbid they were related to us. I don’t need the guilt by association.”
“What about the Brotherhood? We are related to them.”
“Yeah, but I would like to think that it’s not genetic and that they could be good if not for the brainwashing by their insane and incredibly powerful leader. But back to what I came here for. Verifying Turner’s suspicion is even more of a reason to let me coax Lokan into talking.” She smirked. “I might be able to get more with honey than you do with a stick.”
Amusement dancing in his eyes, Kian crossed his arms over his chest. “And how do you propose to do that? What excuse are we going to give him for letting you into his prison cell?”
The obvious explanation would have been providing Lokan with a professional as an incentive, but Kian would balk at that and rightfully so. The clan held itself to much higher moral standards.
“I can come as the maid. The Doomers expect females to be doing traditional jobs, so it won’t seem suspicious to him that a woman brings in his meals and tidies his place. Who is serving his meals now?”
“Arwel.”
She rolled her eyes. “And where does he get the food? I’m sure he doesn’t cook for the Doomer.”
“Of course not. So far, I believe he has gotten everything from the vending machines. But that’s not a solution. He needs to order meals to be delivered to the guard station in the lobby.”
“I can take over that part of Arwel’s job and do a much better one. You know what they say about the best way to a man’s heart, right? It’s through his stomach.” Carol fluffed up her hair. “In addition to my more obvious talents, I’m also a very good cook. I can move into the keep and prepare meals for Lokan and for Arwel. That would give me the perfect excuse to visit him three to four times a day.” She smirked. “I’ll have him eating out of the palm of my hand in no time, so to speak.”
“Perhaps. But Lokan is a manipulative bastard, and he might get you talking instead.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can talk circles around him. I’m not going to give him anything he can use against us, even if he somehow manages to escape, which he will not.”
He arched a brow. “I still remember putting you in jail because you blabbered in bars about your infamous past in revolutionary Paris.”
“Pfft.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That was different. No one believed me. They thought I was either drunk or loony. You overreacted.”
“You were drunk.”
“I was just having fun. I wasn’t so wasted that I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Tapping his fingers on his desk, Kian regarded her for a few seconds before letting out a breath. “Fine. Just be careful.”
Carol wanted to pump her fist in victory. “I know what I’m doing, Kian. Besides, those days of carefree living are over. I did some growing up since then.”
“That is true. What about the café, though, and your self-defense class?”
“If I get Wonder some help, she can handle the café without me. I can ask Callie to do that. And I can cancel the class for a week or two. It won’t take me longer than that to get what I need out of Lokan.”
When he nodded, Carol’s heart did a somersault. He was actually agreeing.
“We don’t have a spare apartment in the keep for you. You’ll have to room with the Guardians, or I can give you one of the nicer cells in the dungeon.”
“I need a kitchen, and I don’t mind rooming with the guys. I’ll feed them too.” Which would ensure their cooperation.
“I’ll call Arwel and let him know that you’re coming. I hope he can get a bedroom for you.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I can sleep on the couch.”
Besides, if her plan worked, she wouldn’t need a bed upstairs because she would be sleeping in Lokan’s.
17
Turner
The reaction Kian and the brothers got when they entered the restaurant amused Turner. The women glanced their way and then gave them their full attention, while the men pretended not to notice the three, or their companions’ reactions.
See no handsome guys, hear no female gasps, and speak no comments.
Wise monkeys.
He shook his head. If Bridget were there and heard his thoughts, she would have had something to say about them.
Even before his transition, Turner had felt superior to most people and often thought of them as monkeys. Immortality had made it worse. Now that he had limitless time to learn all that there was to learn, his superiority complex was turning into a god complex, and even he knew that it wasn’t a good thing.
“Thanks for meeting me for lunch,” Kian said as he joined him in the booth.
Anandur sat next to his boss, and Brundar next to Turner. Usually, having anyone other than Bridget sit so close would have bothered him, but knowing that the proximity made the Guardian just as uncomfortable helped.
Sitting next to Anandur would have been worse. The guy was much less reserved than his somber brother, and he liked touching people.
Still, since this wasn’t a social call and they were there as Kian’s bodyguards, the brothers tried to act as unobtrusively as possible.
“Are you heading to your old headquarters later?” he asked Kian.
The restaurant’s other patrons were all human, but Turner liked to be safe. Mentioning terms like ‘the keep’ and ‘prisoner’ might pique someone’s interest.
/> “Not today. I have a meeting with a developer in one of my alternative offices. I’m letting my other business associate stew for a little bit. I’m going to see him tomorrow about that tour I’ve promised him. Hopefully, by then he’ll be ready to talk. If not, I will do what I’ve wanted to do from the start and beat it out of him.”
“Patience, Kian. The reason I advised you to treat him well was so he could see the vast difference between his camp and ours. The idea is to make him talk because he believes it’s the right thing to do for his people. I don’t think you’ll be able to get it out of him any other way.”
“I just might. Carol proposed to try and coax him into opening up to her. She will go in as the meal server and use her feminine wiles on him.”
Carol was a born seductress, and if any female had a chance of manipulating Lokan it was her. Except, the Doomer was a master manipulator himself. “He would see right through her, and he even might get her to reveal things she shouldn’t. The guy is smart. Don’t underestimate him.”
Kian’s smile was chilling. “If Carol fails, I can always employ more rigorous negotiation tactics.”
“Your associate is old and experienced, and he didn’t grow up surrounded by warm and fuzzy. He’ll keep his mouth shut no matter what you do to him.”
Sighing, Kian pushed away the empty breadbasket. “As usual, you’re right. Perhaps I should get Dalhu to talk to him.”
“It won’t help. Your associate is not going to believe him either.”
They had to pause their conversation when the waiter came to take their order.
Looking over the menu, Kian shook his head. “I don’t see anything here that I can eat. Can the cook make me something vegan?”
This was embarrassing. He should have remembered Kian’s dietary preferences and chosen a different restaurant.
How was that for a humbling reminder that he was far from omnipotent?
“Would you like a fettuccine primavera?” the waiter asked. “We can make a vegan option for you by omitting the butter and using olive oil instead.”
