by Karin Harlow
“Team?” Mr. Black’s voice reverberated through the small device in her ear.
A collective “I copy” followed.
“De la Roja, do you copy?” Mr. Black asked.
“Yes,” she softly said, realizing that despite her confidence, she was nervous.
“Limo one is approaching,” Mr. Black announced. “The occupant has been photo ID’d as Amir bin Asheed. Founder of the small but terrible and very organized Egyptian Militia. They were responsible for the bombing last month in Cairo after their candidate lost the election for president. They vow to continue to bomb Egypt until sharia law is established. I suspect they hope to achieve that by detonating a dirty bomb.”
Selena inhaled and ran her hands down her skirt, then slowly exhaled. She was literally dressed to kill. Her outfit was created precisely for this type of event. To the unsuspecting eye, she looked like a cross between a dominatrix and a genie. She wore thigh-high leather boots beneath a long, hip-hugging carwash skirt made of diaphanous black material, clasped to her by a wide, supple, studded-leather belt that doubled as sheaths for two short daggers that lay horizontally across her belly, easily accessible. The bikini-style top was of the same diaphanous material but provocatively twisted with the same black studded leather as her belt. Her midriff was bare except for the twinkle of a bloodred ruby belly-button stud. She wore assorted razor-sharp, metal-bangle bracelets on each arm halfway up to her elbows. They were easily released and launchable to slice and dice. Her hair was pulled back into a high knot atop her head, then fell freely down her back. Proudly, arrogantly, deliberately, she showed the necklace off to its every advantage. After Nikko and Marisol, it was her most precious possession. One she would defend with her life.
She fingered the extra setting again, anxious to fill it. Preceded and followed in by a security detail, the Egyptian entered with little fanfare. Selena strode toward the front door as Nikko ushered him inside. She smiled graciously at the nondescript man and greeted him in his language. He looked surprised, but quickly collected himself.
“I’m afraid, sir, your detail must remain outside,” Selena firmly said, looking directly at Asheed.
He motioned away the four sphinx-size goons surrounding him. Nikko showed them the door.
“Follow me, please.” She led the Egyptian to the elevator, and once the doors closed behind them, she said, “Mr. Noslov will be your host as we await the others.” The doors opened and she escorted him to a doorway at the end of the hall. She opened it to a pacing Noslov, who immediately morphed into cool, calm, and collected.
“Velcome,” he said, extending his hand. The Egyptian cautiously entered the room, eyeing every corner. With the black slate conference table, the six black leather seats, a laptop sitting before each one, and the loaded beverage cart, the room was simple and nonthreatening.
Just as Selena had the Egyptian settled, Mr. Black piped up in her earpiece, “Our next guest has arrived.”
As Selena hurried down to the entrance, Mr. Black filled them in. “From what we have managed to gather, this chap is Mohammad Abdul Rahim, founder of the Al Rahim Trust, or ART. Since UBL’s demise, Rahim’s organization has swelled with former al-Qaeda members. He’s based in Karachi, but this Pakistani rebel has his sights on Kashmir. His plan? To create then rule a self-sustaining terrorist country. He’s well funded by way of heroin. He is the largest peddler of the drug in Pakistan.”
Selena was met with a derogatory once-over by the lone Pakistani. He was dressed in a formal shalwar kameez. His choice of clothing surprised her. She would have thought he would not want to bring attention to himself and would have, like the Egyptian, donned Western clothing. She smiled graciously at the arrogant prick. He would not be so high-and-mighty when the clock struck twelve.
As Selena showed him into the conference room, he abruptly stopped at the threshold and chipped off something to Noslov in Urdu. Noslov smirked and looked at Selena, then shot back in the same language, to which Rahim responded by flinging his hand dismissively at Selena, then sitting down with his back to her.
“Rahim just told Noslov he was insulted by your attire,” Mr. Black chuckled. “Noslov told him to suck a goat dick, to which Rahim said he wouldn’t touch Noslov’s mother if she were the last goat on earth.”
Selena backed out of the room and shut the door. “He can go back to his own damn country if he doesn’t like the way Western women dress.”
“Hurry up, de la Roja, the next limo just pulled up,” Mr. Black said.
“That was a short twenty minutes!”
“We just hit the jackpot,” Mr. Black said, the excitement in his voice palpable. “Our next guest is none other than Abdul ali Rashid. Cousin and confidant of Muhammad Atef, the brains behind al-Qaeda. I’m going to guess al-Qaeda is in the market for enriched uranium for a little payback. Once he’s inside, do not allow him to leave.”
Selena greeted the terrorist as she had those who preceded him and led him into the conference room. Rahim stood and started in on Rashid. Selena closed the door on Noslov’s elevated voice trying to placate them.
Next up was a Somali general, followed by an ousted Malaysian prince.
Once all the men were comfortably seated around the wide conference table, Selena shut the door to the room and turned to face them.
“Gentlemen,” Selena began, “if I may have your attention, I have a few ground rules to go over before I turn the auction over to Mr. Noslov. If any of you need to use the facilities, please do so now. Once we begin, there will be no coming or going until all bids are locked in and verified.” She looked around the room; no one moved. “I’ll take it then that you are all ready to proceed.” She looked at Noslov, who stood quietly but alert in the corner. “You may open your laptops and boot them up. A number will appear in the upper-right-hand portion of your screen. Enter that number seven times in succession with no spaces. The next screen will instruct you how to verify your account. Once that is done, a blank box will pop up. That is the box, when you are told to do so, in which you will enter your bid, calculated in US dollars. Whole numbers only. No dollar signs, no commas, and no decimal for cents. You will have only one chance to submit it, so make sure before you do, it is your final offer.”
She looked at Noslov and nodded, then nodded at the group of men. “Mr. Noslov will take it from here. Good luck, gentlemen.”
Selena exited the room and shut the door firmly behind her. She smiled at Cassidy and Stone, who were waiting in the hallway. “They’re all yours.”
“Balderama’s limo just pulled up,” Mr. Black said. “We’ll wait until you have secured him before we move in on the conference room.”
“Copy,” Selena said. The last thing they wanted was to call attention to the sting and have Balderama take off. No way was Daddy getting out of Lost Souls alive.
As she hurried down to greet Señor, Selena’s nerves began to unravel. Not now! If ever she needed to remain composed and focused, it was now. She was a seasoned warrior, an assassin! She had enough power and backup to stage a successful coup. She needed to calm down. As she did when she needed strength, her fingers caressed the warm stones around her neck. They flared in understanding. And just like that, her heartbeat slowed to a regular rhythm.
Manufacturing a welcoming smile, she made her way to Los Cuatro’s figurehead as Nikko ushered him into the quiet club.
“Señor,” she warmly said, taking his hand. The faint stench of sulfur swirled around him. “I am so glad to see you made it safely.” He eyed her coldly. She pretended not to notice. She dropped her voice and said, “I’m very nervous. We are so close to our goal, but—” She pulled him along out of earshot of Nikko and away from the door. “Noslov has been acting strange.”
Señor’s brows rose high into his forehead. “Strange, how?”
Selena lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Like he has something up his sleeve. I can’t put my finger on it. But I’ve had him under my thumb since I spoke with you yester
day.”
“Why did you not alert me?”
Selena squeezed his hand and released it. “After our discussion yesterday, I didn’t want to cause you more worry.”
“Speaking of our discussion, have you had second thoughts?”
“Regarding Mr. Cruz and his handler?”
He nodded.
Selena chose her next words carefully. “No, but I should have recognized it was not my call to make. You have the vision of the bigger picture. I only have snapshots. My apologies for questioning you.” She inclined her head in contrition, though it grated on her every nerve to do so. While she knew Paymon lurked behind Balderama’s odd-colored eyes, she doubted he had full possession of the man. A human host as strong-willed and downright evil as most daemons, such as Balderama, would be difficult to completely possess.
So Selena played on her relationship with Balderama, hoping to reach him and his mind and perhaps restore some trust. Then. Strike.
Balderama took her hand into his and smiled. “I have something for you, Selena. A small token to show my appreciation for all you have done for our cause and all you will continue to do.”
Her heart leapt in her chest. “That is not necessary, Señor. My reward is in the final result.”
A malevolent smile twisted his lips. He opened her hand palm up and placed something in it. “Indeed. To final results.”
Selena looked down at a bloodstained signet ring. Her stomach roiled in recognition. Heat stung her eyes. Dear God, it was Joran’s ring.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
For all that was dear to her, Selena maintained her composure. She cocked her head, forced a small smile, and looked questioningly at Balderama. “A new ring?”
His malicious smile broadened. “As you know, not just any ring.”
She held it up in the dim lighting. Dried blood distorted the design and engraving, but she knew without a doubt it was Joran’s. She had never seen him without it. Guilt riddled her composure. He was dead because of her.
“It’s beautiful. It should clean up nicely.” She lowered the ring and slipped it on her right thumb. “Thank you.” She had never been this close to her father, never wanted to destroy him more. It took every ounce of self-control Selena possessed to appear calm, indifferent, and focused. She wanted to sink her daggers into his chest and cut his black heart out. She wanted him to pay for her mother’s death, for what he’d forced Selena to do, how he forced her live. But Selena remained outwardly calm. Their showdown was inevitable; it would be here, tonight, and she would triumph.
Frustrated rage flashed across Balderama’s face. Quickly he concealed it. “I’m glad you like it. I have something else for you, but you will have to wait until after the auction for that surprise.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”
Selena summoned a smile. He was the one in for the bigger surprise. Forcing herself, she took his arm and walked to the back elevator. Instead of selecting the button for the second floor, where she had taken all of the others, Selena hit the third-floor button. As the elevator doors opened to her kill room, she turned to Balderama and asked, “You are familiar with this room?”
His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Intimately.”
Selena stepped onto the smooth gray marble. In her mind, she could see Balderama’s blood pooling around him after she slit his throat, and her father’s vacant daemon body beside him, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be.
“We’ve got a problem down here,” Cross said in her earpiece.
“Go ahead,” Mr. Black answered.
“We’ve just been surrounded by a bunch of daemons.”
“You’re going to have to handle that, Cross,” Nikko said. “I’m on my way up to Selena.”
Selena kept her cool.
Balderama’s eyes gleamed preternaturally.
He knew. The devil inside him knew.
Selena did not waste a heartbeat. She struck. Grabbing her daggers from their sheaths at her waist, she scissor-slit Balderama’s throat from his Adam’s apple out. Warm blood spurted in a high arch across the room, splattering her chest and arms. Blood filled Balderama’s mouth, stifling his screams. Grasping his filleted neck, he dropped to his knees, his eyes wide in shock. She planted her right foot on his chest and kicked him to the floor. He landed on his back, gasping for air, groping his jugular. “Selena—” he gurgled. “Help, me—”
Selena reached behind her and grabbed her swords from their sheath on the wall. She pointed them at Balderama’s heart, digging the tips into skin and muscle. “You lied to me,” Selena hissed. “You lied to the cause! I killed innocent people for you! Your death will serve me twice. Once for your terrible crimes.” She shoved the swords into his heart. “And twice to draw my dear old dad out!” She shoved the blades deeper until they struck the marble floor beneath him.
His body contorted once before it went still. His eyes glazed, his mouth gaped. His final breath was at hand.
Withdrawing the swords, Selena crouched beside Balderama’s dying body and leaned toward his ear. “Come out, Daddy dearest, come out so I can cut your black heart out.”
Two daemon hands reached out from Balderama’s gaping mouth and grabbed Selena. She blocked her descent into Balderama by crossing her swords, but Paymon was stronger.
“Selena!” Nikko shouted from behind her. He grasped her around the waist and pulled. Selena shoved her swords into Balderama for leverage, then kicked away from him and broke free. As she moved backward, she sliced Paymon’s outstretched hands from his arms. A furious roar erupted from Balderama’s body. His chest and torso wildly undulated as if his body were snake infested. His eyes bulged out of his head, and a thin orange vapor trail hissed from his mouth and nostrils. The shuddering stopped, and then, like a scene from the movie Alien, Balderama’s chest and gut split open. Paymon emerged in all his raging daemon glory.
Nikko clasped her hand, uniting their strengths.
“You defy Hell, you will burn in it!” Paymon roared in his daemon form, which was disturbingly humanlike. Paymon was handsome, glaringly so. Like Michelangelo’s David, his dark, beautiful features were finely sculpted by an expert hand. Selena remembered the first time she had seen him as a young girl and thought he was an angel sent from heaven. Her mother had schooled her well to avoid him.
Selena raised her swords, then pointed them at his heart. “If I go down in flames, you’re going with me!”
Paymon slapped the swords away as easily as if they were gnats. He pointed his bloody stump arms toward his hands on the floor. They lifted and reattached themselves.
Paymon smiled grotesquely at her. “I am impressed by your power and cunning, Daughter. When will you realize your place is beside me in Hell?”
“You raped my mother, then drove her to suicide. You tried to harm my daughter while she was in my womb! You tried to kill the man I loved! How can my place be beside you?”
“I loved your mother!” he roared. He pointed a daemon finger at Balderama’s dead body. “He pushed her from that window! He drove her mad with his lies and deceit!”
No! Señor would never—Selena’s face blanched white in shock. Señor—would.
“You are shocked?” Paymon laughed. “You are as blind as your mother was. Your precious Señor used her to get close to me! He wanted to control the power of Hell through her devotion to him! I would never permit that!” Paymon held out his hands to Selena. “Come with me now, Daughter. With the necklace and the cask, our power will be untold.”
Selena shook her head. It changed nothing! He was crazy to think she would go with him, under any circumstances!
“Only I can protect you and your daughter from the wrath of the Order! Without me, you will die by their hand!”
Selena shook her head. “You are wrong on both counts, Father.” She raised her swords and brought them together as one, pointing at his heart. “After all of the heartache you have caused me and the people I love, how could you think I would ever go with y
ou!”
Paymon’s body flared furiously. “You choose the human over eternal life with your father?”
“I made that choice long ago,” Selena defiantly said.
“Then you leave me no choice.” In a move so fast it was only a blip of a blur, Paymon plucked Nikko from where he stood behind Selena and slammed him against the wall. His body hit with a sickening thud. Twirling her swords out of the way, Selena shoved the air in front of her, and slammed her father against the wall he had just thrown Nikko into. She held him there as she moved toward her beloved. As she approached, she heard the dull thud of Nikko’s heartbeat.
Selena looked into her father’s furious yellow eyes. “You’re not messing with a scared girl anymore.” The stones flared powerfully around her neck. She shoved hard, forcing his body into the wall. “Not only do I possess the power of the stones”—she turned her hands clockwise; his body turned with them—“but my own heart beats with the strength of my father and the love of my mother!” She shoved him so hard he pushed three feet into the solid concrete wall.
Paymon roared, his stench unbearable, his power a chaotic swirl of disturbance around her.
“You are so not worthy of my time,” Selena said, going for the kill. Swords at the ready, she approached the hole in the wall. She thrust a sword tip into his calf. He kicked her in the chest with his other foot, knocking her to the ground.
She leapt up, but he was all around her, his velocity tearing at her hair, her clothing, her swords. Selena stood her ground, and battled back, her swords a furious flurry of destruction. She hacked his limbs from his body, went for his head.
Limbless and raging, Paymon’s torso slammed toward her. She leapt high into the air and, somersaulting as she came down, like a picador to a raging bull, she drove one of her swords through his chest. That really pissed him off. He screamed furiously, turned, and, with his long daemon teeth, pulled the sword through his chest. Selena thrust her dagger into his head from behind. The tip of the blade protruded on the other side out of his right eye. Raging, Paymon twisted his limbless body and head-butt her, flinging her off him. She slowed her velocity and like a funnel cloud whirled high into the air. The red-hot glow of the stones filled the anteroom.
