Immortal Dynasty

by Lynda Haviland

  “I’m a thief, not an idiot.” Darius pinched the bridge of his nose, reining in his discomfort. Hell would freeze over before he stepped one toe into the Troy Estate.

  Rumors of demonic rituals had swirled around for decades about the old mansion and the tunnels underneath it. Many of them sounded a lot like the prophecies his grandfather loved to talk about. But they made for good stories to scare the crap out of little kids on Halloween.

  It wasn’t the rumors of the old house, however, that caused his stomach to lurch. Darius didn’t know Lilith, but he knew her son. As an adult, Therion might be one of Boston’s local military heroes, but as a teen, he’d been nothing short of a vicious bully. Back then, Darius had been a favorite target of Therion’s street gang.

  “No. You are not an idiot. You have the smarts to get inside every major museum around the world!” Papa Shadi poked Darius’ left shoe with the tip of his cane. “And I believe the correct term is not thief but retrieval specialist.”

  Darius watched a security guard enter the tiny pub and approach the bartender. “Doesn’t matter how you sugar coat it, Papa. I steal things.”

  “Yes, but you steal from thieves. You return things to their proper owners.”

  “That still makes me a thief.” But a damn good one.

  “Like that English fellow, Robin.”

  Darius chuckled. “Okay. Maybe I am kinda like Robin Hood. I have been arrested by plenty of sheriffs.”

  Papa Shadi stroked his beard and shrugged. “A criminal record means nothing when you work for family.”

  After chugging down a draft, the security guard turned and headed straight toward them.

  Darius smirked. “As my employer, I wonder if that makes you just as guilty.”

  “Guilt by association? Probably.” Papa Shadi pointed his cane toward the approaching guard. “Looks like Artie is ready for us.”

  Finally escaping the sticky booth, Darius tossed a nice tip down for the perky cocktail waitress with the cute red thong under her mini kilt. Passing her on the way out, he easily read the smoky, suggestive look in her light green eyes. He did like green eyes.

  *

  “I can’t wait to see her.”

  Darius smiled at Papa Shadi’s unrestrained excitement.

  Within minutes, the security guard led them across the street, through a delivery door, and up to the eighth floor in a service elevator. As the doors swooshed open, big block letters announced the field office of U.S. Customs & Border Protection, the agency sworn to protect citizens from the illegal entry of people and goods.

  As he did anytime he entered a museum or federal building, Darius quickly slipped on a pair of gloves. The crack about sheriffs really hadn’t been off the mark. He’d been arrested or detained so many times he’d lost count. If any art or antiquities went missing, he was top on the list of suspects.

  Even though he was probably on a video camera, he still took the precaution of keeping his fingerprints to himself.

  Mr. Artie Johnson, he presumed, stood just inside the first door past the receptionist’s desk. This was definitely a government man: just shy of middle age, average height, slim but a slight paunch, standard issue black suit and boring tie.

  What was not average about the man was the sweat trickling down his neck and the shifty way his brown eyes darted between every corner of the room. He’s spooked.

  Without any introduction, he motioned for Papa Shadi to open a brown leather satchel on the desk. Darius kept his eyes on the nervous man who made a distinct effort to stay as far away from the desk as possible.

  A quick intake of breath told him that his grandfather had found the photo of the statue. “Yes. There she is. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Darius dragged his eyes away from watching Mr. Artie. He had to see what his grandfather had been so obsessed with for all these years.

  Beautiful? That word didn’t give enough credit to the sculptor. She was…breathtaking. Even in a glossy photograph he could see the detail in her exotic features. She looked commanding in her pose, her knife gripped with determination. She also looked…

  Heavy. She appeared to be a typical life-sized statue plated with gold. That would make her extremely heavy. Always a challenging factor in retrieval.

  What was he thinking? He wasn’t going anywhere near the Troy Estate.

  “Artie, you found the sword, too?” A tone of reverence hovered in the old man’s voice. “Look, Darius. This sword belongs to the Lady of Flame. It was created for her.”

  Darius curved his lips doubtfully. “The goddess or the statue?”

  Papa Shadi’s eyes flickered with annoyance. “You know the ancient Egyptians believed that if you could speak aloud the true name of someone…or something…you controlled it.”

  “You’ve known my name all these years and haven’t controlled me very well.” Darius tried to chuckle at his own joke, but one stern look from Papa Shadi silenced him.

  “The name of the sword is Farvadin,” he whispered. “It means guardian. The Lady of Flame used it to lead her medjai warriors. Only she can wield the sword and invoke its full power.”

  A high-pitched sucking sound came from the reception area. It could easily have been the night cleaner’s vacuum, but Artie Johnson darted from the room like a terrified rabbit. Darius realized he was scratching the hell out of his palm: his sixth sense telling him something was not right.

  “Grab the bag, Papa. Let’s go.”

  The lights in the reception area flickered. Television screens hung silently from the ceiling. Rows of seats in the waiting area sat empty. Artie cowered by the elevator, pounding on the buttons. As the eerie sound grew, the security guard twirled in confused circles, looking for the source.

  They weren’t alone. Yet, Darius couldn’t say how he knew that.

  His grandfather looked heartbroken. “I am sorry. There is so much more to tell you. I waited too long.”

  Darius followed Papa’s gaze toward a darkened corner. The shadow seemed unnaturally dark and stretched from floor to ceiling. Strange, it was like he was looking into a deep, black void. Then he felt it. The void pulsated. Cold vibrations swept over him rhythmically, raising the hairs on his arms. His palms continued to itch.

  Bolts of pure energy lashed out from the void, whipping through the room and fingering everything. The televisions screamed to life and exploded in a shower of sparks. Fluorescent ceiling lights fizzled out. The receptionist’s handsets popped off their cradles, smacking against their charging stations.

  The security guard leaped toward the elevator, but a violent bolt slashed through the man’s chest. His body slumped forward. Artie screamed and continued pounding on the elevator doors. What the hell?

  Darius stepped protectively in front of his grandfather, prepared to face whatever was coming. He felt an urgent hand on his shoulder.

  “Darius,” Papa Shadi whispered. “Lilith sends her demons to silence us. She must be stopped.”

  It disturbed him that he could not see into the blackness. Darius started to argue, but for once he held silent. Instead, he moved them both back away from the void, nearly tripping over a fallen television screen. He maneuvered them behind the desk.

  Peering back into the void, he noticed a yellow glow moving toward them from deep inside the darkness.

  “What’s happening?” He looked toward his grandfather’s face, which was surprisingly calm.

  Papa Shadi nudged him in the arm with his cane. “Remember the prophecy.”

  The lamp from Artie’s office provided meager light, but even in the semi-darkness the old man’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, not fear. Darius wondered if the old coot had been expecting this. The yellow glow advanced toward them quickly now. The light divided into three distinct pairs of eyes.

  Darius sat back and mentally counted to ten. This was not happening. Maybe he was hallucinating. More likely, he was having a nightmare, induced by his grandfather’s prophecy theories. He felt his grandfather move close
r to him.

  “Darius,” he felt the old man’s light grip on his shoulder and the cane nudging his arm again. “Get the Lady of Flame. She will help you.”

  keep him out of the loony bin. “Papa, whatever happens, stay right here.”Right! A statue was not going to

  Darius didn’t wait for a response. He simply expected his demand to be followed. He kept his eyes fixated on the void and the three looming forms taking shape within it.

  Two thin shapes slithered into the room and took up flanking positions. They looked almost like a couple of college guys, sporting name brand jeans and Harvard polo shirts. Until their cheekbones popped and stretched outward. Shiny fangs swung down from the roofs of their mouths. Forked tongues flickered between the dripping fangs. Sniffing the air, they seemed to be studying their surroundings.

  Finally, the third form stepped from the void. This one exuded an air of authority.

  Think! Darius rubbed the back of his head. His mind screamed with questions that he dared not ask out loud. Not unless he wanted to give up their position before he made some quick plans. The black void now engulfed the hallway leading to the stairwell, the only way out of this office besides the elevator. Artie had slid to the floor, whimpering and sweating.

  Darius glanced again at the security guard’s body. The gun. It was still in the guard’s holster. He wondered how he could get to it.

  The lead demon didn’t have scaly skin like the others, but he sported the same set of drippy fangs. All of them panted heavily. Darius felt the temperature in the room drop severely, yet sweat trickled down his back.

  “Mr. Arthur Johnson? Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the demon sang in a raspy voice. He strode forward, flicking back the tails of his leather trench coat. “It seems that you have been a very naughty boy. Snooping around her private collection. Shame on you. The Dragon Queen would like a word with you.”

  Darius put his fingers to his lips to signal for his grandfather to remain silent.

  “She demands it!” An impatient roar reverberated through the empty room. The demon picked up a television screen and threw it. It shattered on impact with the wall. Artie responded with a toe-curling shriek and renewed efforts at prying open the elevator doors.

  Darius leaped over the desk, starting toward the growling demon. “Damn, you could win a door prize at DragonCon.”

  A ragged, wet growling sound was his only response. It echoed off the tiled floors. The other two moved around him slowly, like snakes encircling their prey.

  “Wow. What big teeth you have. How do I get a set of those?”

  The demon laughed. “Well, come here, little human, and I will show you how.”

  Darius launched toward him, covering the ground between them so quickly he knew he caught the thing off guard. It was only a momentary advantage, but enough to get a kick into the demon’s jaw. In unison, the other two sprang toward Darius. He used the back of the first one to springboard over the advancing pair. The moment his feet touched the ground, he spun to land enough kicks into their skulls to drop them too.

  He started toward the frozen guard, leading the demons away from his grandfather. He just needed a moment to get that gun. Darius heard the blow from behind him even before he felt it. It came too quickly for him to avoid. Whistling past his ear, a demon’s fist slammed down onto his collarbone. Darius felt cold tile under his cheek.

  Two of the demons pressed him into the floor. For once, Darius wished he had a full head of hair, because hot drool oozed across his scalp. He shivered with revulsion, as he realized it smelled nasty as well.

  “Whew, what have you been eating? Ever heard of breath mints?” His stomach roiled from the stench. He felt a kick coming, but he curled inward to absorb at least some of the blow. He coughed and gulped for air.

  Darius froze as he felt a slimy fang rub against his cheek. A breathy voice too close to his ear whispered, “Human, you smell like a tasty one.”

  “Not now, you fools,” the commanding demon barked. “The Dragon Queen doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Mr. Johnson, it’s time to go now.”

  Artie’s body twisted and arched on the floor. His eyes nearly popped from his face.

  Papa Shadi stepped out from his hiding place. “Take me. Leave them out of this. I am the one who knows Lilith’s secrets.”

  “No!” Darius struggled to get up, but he was slammed against the floor again. His grandfather smiled. Again, he wondered if Papa Shadi had been expecting this. The old man popped a flat wafer into his mouth before lifting his cane and launching toward the demon in charge.

  Darius watched helplessly as his grandfather managed to land one blow across the demon’s shoulder. Roaring in outrage, the demon struck out at the old man, knocking him to the ground. Darius was horrified to realize that his grandfather lay unconscious.

  The demon shrugged and picked up the old man, tossing the frail body over his shoulder. “Bring him, too. She’ll want to handle him personally,” he commanded before stepping back into the black void.

  Darius managed to get his palms beneath him against the floor, and he shoved with all the strength he had left. Caught off guard, the creatures fell backwards. Darius dropped low and swung his foot out, swiping one of them off its feet. A sickening thud echoed as its head connected with the floor.

  Darius doubled over as pain knifed through his shoulder. Something hit him on the back of the head, and his vision blurred. Darius waited for the next blow that would send him into darkness.

  No! He refused to let this happen. His grandfather needed him. Darius looked around. Just on the other side of the demon’s feet, Papa Shadi’s cane lay on the floor.

  Darius grabbed the cane and yanked it toward him, sweeping the demon off of its feet. The two picked themselves off the floor, snarling for another fight. Darius sprang toward the dead guard, whipping the gun out of the holster. He checked the chamber. No fucking bullets?

  The demons tackled him from behind, but Darius managed to roll out from under them. He raced back to the broken television screen and ripped off a wickedly ragged piece.

  As the first demon approached him from behind, he twisted and shoved the glass shank into the demon’s scaly forehead. Darius watched in awe as the creature stumbled backward for a moment, and then its head disintegrated. Blown clean off of the neck. The headless body writhed on the floor. With a final twitch, the headless body burst into a blue flame. Only the makeshift weapon and a small pile of gray ash remained.

  Darius caught the other creature retreating quickly toward the void. He snatched up his makeshift shank again and threw it at the demon’s back. He was a bit rusty on his throw, but it still managed to lodge behind the demon’s ear. It was close enough to accomplish the job.

  Darius started running toward the void. “Papa!”

  What is this thing? What’s on the other side? He had to find out. He had to save his grandfather. If only he’d paid better attention all these years. Maybe then he would have a clue. Still, he was certain his grandfather had never mentioned anything like this.

  A thought halted him. The demons came through this thing like a door. A portal. If he stepped through that doorway, he’d be stepping right into their turf. He suspected that he wouldn’t like the odds.

  His best move at this point would be to find another way into the demon nest. He just prayed that his grandfather was right. He was going to break into the Troy Estate, and he had to do it fast while he could still have an element of surprise.

  Darius remembered the cane. Picking it up, he inspected it for scratches. He would take good care of it for Papa Shadi. He wished to God that Papa was here now, poking him in the ribs with the damned thing. He felt like that glass shank was shoved through his own heart.

  Behind the desk, he found the leather satchel which contained the proof of his grandfather’s life-long obsession. Draped deliberately across it was the gold necklace Papa Shadi always wore. Darius had never seen him without it.

  The me
dallion was engraved on one side with old hieratic writing, which read Brotherhood of Karnak, one of the early names for the Illuminati. A pyramid was embossed on the other side, with an eye symbol centered inside it. He knew it to be a symbol of the brotherhood his grandfather belonged to.

  Darius draped the necklace around his own neck and kissed the medallion. He swore to whatever god was listening that he would get his grandfather back, even if from hell itself. In a moment of pure rage, Darius picked up the wicked glass shard again, and threw it straight at the black void. Silently, it sliced into the dark oblivion.

  The world around him pulsed violently. He felt vibrations thudding against his skull. Slowly, the void retreated. A rush of air nearly blew Darius into the swirling fury. He grabbed for the nearest chair and held on tight. Thankfully, it was bolted securely to the waiting room floor.

  He would go to the demon’s lair, but only on his own terms. Not theirs. The void swirled slowly shut, like watching a black hole disappear.

  Warmth returned to the room.

  Exhausted, Darius crawled over to the limp body of Artie Johnson. Fright permanently pasted across his face and sightless eyes stared upward from sunken sockets. Ironically, the elevator finally chimed.

  The metal doors swooshed open to reveal an empty shaft. Darius grabbed the satchel and ran down the hallway leading to the stairwell. As he passed the spot where his grandfather had disappeared into the evil, black hole, his skin shivered from the icy air that remained.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Must beauty come with a temper?” Therion Troy leaned idly on the mantel of a fireplace almost big enough to stand in. He closed his eyes, savoring the delicious aroma of his brandy.

  Her response came swiftly, shattering the snifter he cradled in his palm. He grumbled with annoyance as a wet, brown stain spread across his crisp white linen shirt. What a waste of good liquor.

  One by one, glass fixtures popped and exploded around the room. The source of his annoyance, the beauty, flopped herself into the nearest chair, fury vibrating off her in near visible waves. She looked like a super model having her little diva tantrum. He chuckled.