by Meg Xuemei X
“Nickolas,” Lucienne greeted.
He shot to his feet and bumped into the edge of the coffee table. His tea spilled. “Siren of the Lams? To what do I owe the honor?”
Lucienne motioned for the Sealers elder to sit back while she settled herself across from him.
Nickolas blinked before looking away, as if realizing his own mistake by staring at the sun directly. That was most people’s reactions when they’d first met Lucienne. Like her ancestors of the Siren race, her power radiated off her.
“The tea isn’t up to your standard?” she asked.
“Tea? Tea’s okay.” Nickolas gathered himself. “I’m just bored.”
“Perhaps we should entertain you?”
Nickolas widened his eyes. “You mean torture?”
“Is that my reputation?”
Nickolas smirked. “They say you aren’t nice.”
“The glowing reviews they gave me since I was a toddler.”
Nickolas chuckled. “They neglected to mention you’ve got a fine sense of humor and you’re also a rare beauty.”
“Do you realize the danger of flirting with me?”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Nickolas said. “It’s once in a lifetime for someone like me to meet the Siren.” Now he didn’t take his gaze off her. “The ancient myth of the Sirens is as old as time. But for once, they got it right. The rightful Siren would be female, and you came. In the depths of your eyes, I see Siren’s luring power. You might truly change the world.”
“I didn’t expect a Sealers elder to be a poet or a prophet,” Lucienne said.
“One can be both when in the right element.”
“Do you understand the position you’re in?”
“Perfectly,” Nickolas said with a relaxed smile. “My life is in your hands. My chance of living depends on how useful I am.”
“Good.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Nickolas said. “Please don’t use the truth serum as Kian McQuillen did. A second time will cause my panic attack.”
“I don’t need the assistance of drugs,” said Lucienne.
“I know that,” Nickolas said softly. “You have that effect on people. I didn’t believe it until I saw you in flesh.”
This one, who was only a few years older than her, hadn’t made the mistake of underestimating her, but he made one by complimenting her. “I’m flattered,” she said.
“I’m not fawning over you,” the elder said seriously. “I’m a frank man who sometimes can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Not as frank as you claimed.” She’d dove into his mind the moment she’d stepped into the room. “Your ambition is higher than your rank in the Sealers. All the extravagance and indulgence, including the two blond knockouts, is but a smokescreen. Your dream is to take over the Brotherhood. It’s too old school for your tastes. You’re itching to reform it with your Ivy League touch. Unlike your founder and your peers, you lack a burning desire to erase me. You’re an opportunist. Since my chief captured you, you’ve been brooding on this new idea of combining forces with me to dominate the world, especially when you see that I’m a female Siren. Why not share the power instead of shedding each other’s blood? You’ll propose that we take a more practical, logical approach—negotiate like two global corporations. I can go on.”
Nickolas contained his shock. To his credit, he didn’t ask a stupid question like, “How do you know about all this?” He cleared his throat. “The Sealers Brotherhood needs a new leader, one who is a visionary and realist.”
“The Sirens’ and Sealers’ forces have been on earth since old times,” Lucienne said. “We can’t uproot each other completely. We kill one of your elders; the next one will replace him. And the next one can be worse.”
Her army had sunk the Sealers’ fleet and blown up their submarine headquarters, but their numbers kept increasing. It was like trying to weed out terrorists—they reproduced at an alarming speed.
“We’re all expendable in the Brotherhood, except the founder,” Nickolas said. “He’s almost irreplaceable, like you.”
Almost.
I have no heir. That’s what he meant, Lucienne thought. If I die, the Siren’s line dies with me. I’m the first female Siren, and I can’t be with any man except Ash, for now. She wouldn’t allow her enemies to know her Achilles’ heel. “No one is indispensable in this world. Life goes on. My cousins are all lined up after me to be the next Siren. But you’re right about the obscenity of the bloody war. You and I can do better, but your founder still wants my head on his altar.”
“Not if we get rid of him,” Nickolas said. “He can’t adapt, but we’re the generation of change. We’re standing at the crossroad, where the quantum revolution is calling. You and I can bring the coming new age.”
“I sank the Rose,” Lucienne said, watching the elder closely to detect the slightest shift in his expression. She wouldn’t risk doing another mind sweep on him. The previous one had exhausted her. “I heard that your father was in that submarine. I killed him. Aren’t you coming for my blood?”
“The war killed him,” Nickolas said. “I’m not heartless, but blood ties are overrated. My father wasn’t a good man. I knew that much. After all, I was raised by him.”
“The devil you know,” Lucienne said. “If you take over the Sealers’ club, at least we won’t be so impatient to cut each other’s throat.”
Nickolas smiled. “I dream of the day.”
“And this future depends on my chief’s safe return,” said Lucienne.
Nickolas’s grin vanished. “McQuillen went for a suicide mission. I told him the founder would never exchange me for him. He’s the Sphinxes’ chief!”
“My plan doesn’t involve sacrificing you since there’s no need to,” said Lucienne. “But you’re going to tell me everything you know about the Sealers’ ops, outposts, safe houses, prisons, and military bases.”
“I don’t have access to the whole operation,” Nickolas said. “You do realize that?”
“I’m not making an unreasonable demand,” said Lucienne. “You’ll try your best. If you lie or intentionally forget something, I’ll know.”
“I’ve given your men all the locations, including the bases on my territory.”
“You gave only fifty seven percent of what you have.”
Nickolas inhaled.
“We’ll get to that later,” Lucienne said. “I intend to preserve your power in the Sealers, but now I’m anxious to locate my chief’s whereabouts. Your founder had him shipped to Libya instead of Abaddon 5.”
Nickolas drew a sharp breath. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Lucienne’s heart plummeted. “Why Libya?” she asked. “Shouldn’t all high-profile prisoners go to Abaddon 5? Samantha is there, isn’t she?”
Nickolas looked distraught. “The founder won’t keep your chief alive for long,” he said. “The Muslim extremists will decapitate him to set an example, or just to show how much they despise you.”
Unable to draw the next breath, as if shards of glass blocked her air passage, Lucienne almost dropped to her knees and rolled on the floor. But she sat still and forced herself to inhale and exhale slowly. Seconds later, she was the steel Siren again.
“I’m sorry,” the elder said softly. “The only bright side is it’s easier to break him out from the Libya military base than Abaddon 5.”
Lucienne gave him a tight look and summoned Hanz, his agents, and her team.
A German agent brought her tea—premium tea leaves brewed in a teapot. Lucienne dismissed the agent and the tea, but Nickolas said that he’d like to have some. The agent looked to Lucienne, who gave him permission to serve the Sealers elder.
“We’re ready to move on to the second stage,” Hanz said, “according to Chief McQuillen’s plan.”
“We won’t execute his plan,” Lucienne cut in. “I’m overriding it. We’re going to Libya. We’ll raid the military base tonight.”
“No, you’re no
t.” Pyon walked in. He must have taken off from Sphinxes right after her. “I am. I’ll get Kian out without risking you, my Siren. My intel just came in. The chief is indeed held along the Libyan border. Desert Wraith Ops has been activated under my command.”
Nickolas looked from Hanz to Lucienne to Pyon with a grin. He seemed to be the only person in the room who was having a good time.
~
Hanz’s office was designed more for convenience than comfort. There were no documents on the desk, just a high-powered laptop and a bottle of hand sanitizer. The only personal touch was a collection of brandies inside the cabinet. If raided, the safe house would leave no records and no trails for their enemies.
Pyon sat on a large, luxury sofa while Lucienne paced from wall to wall, curling her hands into fists, then straightening them, as if restraining herself from pounding the concrete.
The elder had confirmed that the founder had no intention of keeping Kian alive for long. Her enemy knew what it’d do to her and Sphinxes if they took out Kian McQuillen. Fear cut deep into her bones. What was she going to do if she’d already lost Kian, her rock and her ultimate protector? She kept shoving that thought out of her mind, but it kept swinging back.
“If you keep pacing the floor like that,” Pyon said, “you’re going to increase the level of acid in my stomach. And right now, I need to stay calm and go over the steps of breaking into the enemy base.”
She turned to Pyon. “I won’t need to pace if you let me go to Libya.”
“You’re in no condition to rush in,” Pyon said sternly, “and you know I’m right. You want him out alive, you need to be at your best and help me.”
She looked at the director accusingly. “But you refuse to tell me the details of the plan.”
“You agreed that Desert Wraith Ops is under my command,” Pyon said. “I’m not going to lay out classified information in front of everyone.”
Lucienne’s eyes burned with dark fire. “I’m not everyone.”
“To secure a successful mission,” said Pyon, “I can’t let you step on my toes.”
“Why does everyone assume that I love to step on their toes?”
“Your history has spoken for itself more than a few times. You’re a hothead, like Prince Vladimir.”
Lucienne gave him a withering look.
“You do well when it doesn’t involve those you care about, but when their safety is at stake, you throw yourself into the fire without considering how hot it is. And we—your people—can’t afford to lose you.”
Lucienne wasn’t a fool who couldn’t recognize truth. She slumped in a chair across from Pyon, grasping her head in her hands. Her inside was like the churning sea. She needed to act. She needed to get to Kian now. But she couldn’t afford to screw up the rescue.
“I must establish the command chain here,” Pyon said.
“You’re the commander,” Lucienne said. The best leader always knew how to best use the most brilliant men and women under her and not meddle with them while they were doing their jobs. She had no problem picking the best man—Pyon—for the task, but she couldn’t restrain herself from a little meddling. For heaven’s sake, Kian’s life was on the line! “You won’t act like the generals, in the name of protecting me. You’ll let me in on every plan of yours, and I’ll actively participate in the rescue.”
Pyon regarded her warily.
“Or I’ll jump into the fire my way,” Lucienne said.
“Will you promise to obey my orders on this mission?”
“Yes.”
“I need another guarantee.”
Lucienne raised an eyebrow. “You want written words on paper?”
“No, Siren,” Pyon said. “I need your promise not to use your power.”
Lucienne stared hard at him.
“Yes, I know your Siren’s mystical superpower,” he said. “I’ve been paying attention. I knew about it when you were made Siren at a very young age. The power will consume you if you use it unwisely. Everything has a cost, especially a power as great as yours. Your condition is unstable, as is your power. I won’t let you sabotage the ops. So, will you give me your word that you won’t use your power?”
“I won’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Lucienne said.
“I need you to trust me, like Kian has always trusted me.”
Trust the men you use, or don’t use them. That was Kian’s motto.
Lucienne hesitated for a second and nodded.
“We need to give Chief McQuillen time to finish his mission, or his captivity will be for nothing.”
“Kian doesn’t have time!”
“You promised to trust me.”
Lucienne bit her lip. “I’ll give you two days. And then no matter what, I’m going in and bringing him home.”
“I need a week.”
“Any moment they could kill him.”
“If they wanted to execute him that soon, they’d have done it already. An extra week won’t make any difference to our enemy, but it does to us. Give Kian time to find out about the cure, which is most important to the future of Sphinxes.”
“I don’t care about the cure,” Lucienne said. “I want Kian back in one piece. So, no, I won’t wait another week. You have three days, Director Pyon.”
“I want to bring him home as much as you do, Siren,” Pyon said. “I’ll oblige you. Three days it is. But here comes another tough task. I need you to play a role.”
“You always drive hard bargains, Director,” Lucienne said drily. “I’ll play the role. You can count on me to fight as hard as any soldier on the team.”
“Your role is not to fight, Siren. We’ll do the fighting.”
The veins on Lucienne’s temples bobbed as anger flared in her. “You agreed to let me fully participate in the action.”
“Participate in observing,” Pyon said, “from a safe distance.”
“That’s very comforting, but know this: no one can stop me from going for Kian. Not even you. Not even him.”
“Do you really want him back?”
Lucienne had a deadly look in her eyes, but Pyon was unmoved. “The men and I can’t function at our best when we have to look over our shoulders,” he said. “We can’t worry about your condition and rescue the chief at the same time.”
“I didn’t realize I’ve become such a dead weight,” Lucienne said. “As I recall, before you came aboard, I was in the heat of every action.”
“You aren’t a burden, Siren,” Pyon said. “You’re a national treasure. You’re the hope of the new world we hold onto. That’s why things have to change. I’ll bring Kian back to you, but you need to stay safe for him, for us. The closest place I can put you is our Greece op post. Greece is only on the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. You can observe and supervise how we attack the jihadists’ base from there. You can do that, can’t you?”
But what if Pyon failed?
Pyon met her dark gaze firmly. “I seldom lose.”
“You can’t afford to lose this time, Director Pyon.”
“On my life, I’ll make sure Kian comes home.”
And Lucienne blinked back her tears.
CHAPTER 10
BAYROSE
Bayrose Thorn was reviewing the interrogation on a recorded hologram.
Kian McQuillen, chained by hands and feet, was forced to sit on an iron chair bound to the ground. A dozen heavily armed jihadists positioned themselves along the walls and at every entrance and exit of the stone room as their leader, Mirrikh Schwartz, roamed around the captive, assessing him as if the Sphinxes’ chief were a wounded lion, and a lethal one.
Mirrikh, wearing a tennis top and a pair of khaki pants, bit his fingernails when he stopped milling and looked into the lens of the camera with a wink. Bayrose had to admit that Mirrikh had the bluest eyes in the world, but she also knew he was a psychopath. As she grew up with him, she kept overlooking his dark side. She needed more supporters other than those she inherited from her father to est
ablish her new reign, and Mirrikh was loyal to her, at least to a degree. Their families had once discussed enhancing their influences through their son’s and daughter’s marriage.
Mirrikh had succeeded his late father. With his new power, he unapologetically let menace and nastiness roll off him. But standing before the bloody, battered Kian McQuillen, he was like a small vicious bulldog. McQuillen’s sapphire eyes were steely, yet his posture was carefree, as if nothing in the world could break him.
“No wonder the Siren’s force has grown so strong,” she murmured to herself. “She has men like Kian McQuillen.” But Bayrose had the bitch’s lion in her cage now.
Mirrikh stopped biting his fingernail and towered over the seated McQuillen. “I’m Mirrikh Schwartz, the new elder of the Sealers.”
McQuillen stared at Mirrikh as if he could pierce through him, and Mirrikh didn’t appear appreciative of his captive’s silent disdain. “My subordinates say you refuse to talk to any of them,” he continued. Even as a boy, he’d been talkative. And he hadn’t changed. “You wouldn’t spit out a word even under the influence of the new drugs.”
“Drugs and torture are child’s play,” said McQuillen.
Mirrikh sniggered. “I heard that you’re the master of torture. Surely you know how to resist it. I apologize for not being able to arrive earlier. A man with your status shouldn’t be touched by vulgarity. My subordinates will be punished. We need to set up a standard for gentlemen like us.”
“You heard it wrong,” McQuillen said. “I don’t resort to torture to extract information.”
“But you pump fear into men’s heart. I admire that even more. Now that you’re chained, can you still exact fear?”
“I did not come to evoke fear. I came to make a deal.”
Mirrikh raised both eyebrows and said, “I’m intrigued.”
“Find me the elder you put in your dungeon. Give me five minutes with her, and you’ll have the second ancient scroll your Brotherhood has spent centuries searching for.”
“You want to see Samantha.” Mirrikh broke into a wolfish smirk. “What does she have that interests you so? Has it to do with the last scroll she stole from the Brotherhood? Or is it a physical attraction? She’s formidable, but a rare beauty.”
