Robed figures filled the room, each of them lowering to one knee as she was guided between them. Near the rear, she spotted a disdainful Alex, his hood off before one of his fellow brethren pulled it reproachfully over his head for him. For a moment, she was relieved he had stayed. Then, she realized what kept him there wasn’t any sort of loyalty or friendship at the moment, it was his desire to learn more about what she’d said.
Candlelight bathed the room. On the altar, a fire burned low and slow in a brass plate, the offerings of lavender and sage having been thrown on only moments before and sending herbal-scented ashen fingers through the air. As she reached the front of her congregation, the maidens leaned over and kissed her hands before departing the room. They were not allowed to watch the rituals. Their innocence was to be intact, she had claimed to the following. In truth, she didn’t want them to see their parents participating in such a farce.
A chime was struck, and the same hooded woman who had met her at the door earlier stepped forward, her arms outstretched to either side, her voice full and reverent.
“Mighty Sekhmet! Eye of Ra, Lady of the Flame, Protector of Pharaoh. Divine Hecate, Keeper of the Paths, Guardian of the Gates, Seeker of the Just. We bow before thee.”
“We bow before thee!” the crowd repeated as, along with the priestess, they all sank in unison to their knees.
Victoria looked down, forcing herself not to scoff at the pomp and circumstance. The ancient customs weren’t unique to, or original of, her little sect of followers and those she’d collected through the years. Little did they understand, however, that Victoria took very little from these ritual reenactments, which she’d found silly and useless even when they had originated eons ago. It was only for the sake of her following’s cohesiveness that she allowed the charade to continue.
Plus, after the success of The Da Vinci Code, they all thought there was actually something to this crap. Luckily, she’d been able to convince them that the ritualistic sex Dan Brown’s characters engaged in played no part in her cult’s tradition. Victoria swore that if she ever came face to face with that man, she was going to give him a piece of her mind and the side of her hand.
Victoria turned to the altar to examine each of the retrieved treasures. Lazarus had done an excellent job in the short time he’d had of giving each a basic cleaning. After the ceremony, he’d remove, preserve, and store properly each of them; he was an exceptionally skilled antiquities curator. As those around her observed in silence, she picked up each object in turn, remembering the proxy it represented, and spoke under her breath a prayer in memoriam for them in her native tongue.
Finally, Victoria turned to the dozen or so society members. “I recognize the High Priestess Katherine as the speaker of The Order. Let the Voice of The Order speak.”
“Your Grace,” Katherine said, “it seems your effort to reclaim your mementoes was successful.”
“Thanks to Alex’s genius idea of fake maker’s stickers and price tags.” She wasn’t above hoping public flattery could cool his ire. Stealing a glance in his direction, she witnessed the corners of his mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. “The amulet remained out of reach, however, and I’m running out of time.”
“Then we’ll retrieve it.”
In recent years, Victoria had culled from the members of The Order a legion of expert antiquities thieves. Anyone who desired a chance was trained in the art, and the bounty, sold off to pay the maintenance of both the houses and the people. Clearly they thought this was as simple as pinching one more prize.
“Not as easily done as said. The Guardian has it.”
Katherine blanched. “If he uses it to open the gate and the Altunai return, we’re all doomed.”
“You forget two things. First, there are two items required to open the gate for the Altunai. The amulet is one, but I am still in firm control of the other. Second, if they are able to return, I may be able to defeat them.”
“Defeat them?” Katherine repeated. “How?”
Victoria examined her nails with passing interest. “The old fashioned way, by killing them.”
Dressed in a dark red robe, Lazarus shuffled forward. “I think we would all feel better if you were in possession of the amulet. Maybe one of us could try to get it. He knows your face, obviously, but he doesn’t know ours.”
Victoria wasn’t so sure about that. She and Dmitri had come to a truce on some things a number of years ago. Diplomacy kept the two of them from engaging in all-out war. The gentlemen’s agreement brokered called for double-blind relationships. She didn’t share with The Order the identity of his public persona, and he didn’t make any attempt to hunt down the members of her society. Both chose to abide by that agreement when and if it suited them. After all, she had told Alex who the Guardian was, and Priest was intimately aware of it. Likewise, the events of a few years ago proved that Dmitri kept an eye on some of her flock, though she wasn’t sure if he was aware of them as a whole, or only when they found out too much. If the latter, there was a good chance he hadn’t had reason to identify Alex yet. After all, he hadn’t recognized Priest when he met him.
At least there was that to take comfort in.
“No dice, Laz. The Guardian is aware of how much I want it,” she responded. “He’ll have his guards on high alert. You’d need to have abilities on par with mine to be able to get in and out alive. I didn’t want to resort to it, but I might just have to walk into his trap and show up to Memphis.”
Alex broke through the high-ranking tier in front of her altar. “Or you can send me,” he said.
No matter how high in regard she held him, Victoria didn’t understand what made Alex think he was immune to death. “He’d slaughter you like cattle.”
“No, he won’t,” Alex insisted, a knowing grin unfurling the corners of his mouth. “Especially not if I’m something more than human.”
Victoria felt herself shrink back. Any need to compensate Alex for the betrayal he perceived fled her. She stomped down from the altar and poked her finger in his direction. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“Don’t I?” His daring tone made Lazarus and Katherine step back. “What choice do you have?”
“I’d go myself before I’d subject you to that!” Victoria insisted.
Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, go then. And when he uses the fact that you’re still in love with him to seduce and defeat you, call us. We’ll make sure to bust out the rarest bottles from the wine cellar before the Altunai suck us dry like cherry soda.”
The congregation winced when the flat of Victoria’s hand found the side of Alex’s face. For his part, the young man only closed his eyes and absorbed the blow. With an exhalation, he turned to her with steely eyes.
“Must have gotten pretty close to the mark there.”
“You can’t achieve what you’re hoping to,” Victoria warned. She pointed to the objects on the altar. “Do you know how many of them I sent forth, only for each of them to pay the price for my cowardice?”
“There’s a big difference between me and your parade of fallen proxies.” Though tall for a person of her time, Victoria couldn’t match Alex in height. He pushed his chest to hers, glaring. She could feel the vibration of his voice on her forehead as he continued, “I’m not going after the Guardian to help you. I’m going after the stone to help myself. I want him defeated. No matter how pissed I am at you right now, I know that you’re the only person who can do that. We don’t have time to argue, there is no other way. Accept it.”
Rolling her hands together, a shaking Katherine stepped forward. “Your Grace, what is he talking about? What is it he wants you to do?”
Victoria bit her bottom lip, tasting blood. It had been years since someone had managed to piss her off this bad. If there was one thing she hated more than her duties
as the Vessel, it was when someone proved her wrong. As much as her insides shook with rage, the rational part of her couldn’t deny that Alex presented an excellent option for their current predicament.
She inwardly cursed herself for sharing so much with the young man. Her trust in his intelligence, and the proof he presented of it, had turned around and bitten her on the ass.
“He’s asking that I make him a proxy.” Victoria turned to Katherine, taking in the crone’s look of confusion. “Proxies share my powers. Most of them, anyway.” She turned to Alex. “But you have to understand, even though you’d have my abilities to control the elements, be able to hear thoughts, and even speak into humans’ minds, you would still be mortal. He could still kill you, Alex. And if it suits him, he won’t hesitate.”
“A proxy?” Katherine repeated. “Like The Twelve? I thought you had sworn you’d never take another.”
Lazarus, perhaps sensing the woman’s bitterness, stepped forward and put his arm around her. “The Goddess shares her gifts with those whom she will, my dear. Don’t think though that what she’s offering Alex is a blessing.”
Victoria turned tender eyes on the old man. With her mind, she reached out and thanked him. The others in the room whispered amongst themselves, but Lazarus was already in the process of ending the ceremony without its usual ritualistic culmination. He seemed to understand inherently this turn of events was not the background against which to celebrate. In a shuffling procession, he guided the others from the temple chamber, leaving Alex and Victoria alone.
She resumed her place on the altar, wanting the ability to look him square in the face. “If you’re certain you want to do this, so be it, but you should know that bonding isn’t simply an upgrade, it’s an overhaul. It’s going to change both your mind and body. Nightmares, headaches, uncontrollable emotions … It effects everyone differently, but effects everyone somehow. And trust me, you’ll regret having the ability to know what people are thinking.”
“All prices I’m willing to pay to take down Dmitri,” her acolyte insisted. “Just get on with it.”
She pulled him to her, leaning her forehead against his, pleased that while rigid, he didn’t pull back. “Alex, this could kill you. The bonding has killed others before. Please, don’t force more blood on my hands.”
He proved undeterred. “You could have a lot more blood on your hands if I don’t. Besides, even if the bonding does kill me, you can still intercept him at Memphis.”
Her heart fluttered when his hands braced her cheeks.
“I can’t stand aside and do nothing, knowing this is an option. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to Monique. I love her, Vick. Let me do this, for her.”
The goddess gnashed her teeth, but her muscles relaxed. “If you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for her, if you love her that much, can’t you understand what it’s like for me? I’m sorry I kept the truth from you. Please, Alex, forgive me. Like you said, you’re the closest thing to family I have.”
He didn’t speak, but she felt his nod against her forehead.
“Okay, let’s do this, then,” Victoria continued. “But first, there’s a few formalities. Have a seat, Alex. I have to give you a crash course in history the way it actually happened.”
-Ψ-
Though Anton Sluga did not know precisely the heart beats per minute of the average cottontail rabbit, he imagined it must be in the ball park of half that of what his pulse currently clocked.
“What are you doing with the amulet, Anton?”
Dmitri’s face was full of confusion and concern. It was an odd look for him, as he was rarely taken off guard, and he wore the expression with all the comfort of a squirrel in lederhosen.
Anton threw the pair of Dmitri’s Armani pants on the nearby chair. Whenever his boss did something in private—in this case, taking a shower—Anton was required to survey the room for “tasks.” Sometimes this meant straightening the bed, and sometimes it meant confiscating the cooling body and throwing it in the Moskva River. Tonight, it meant gathering up Dmitri’s peeled-off clothes and putting them in the sack destined for the laundry service. Although, worrying about the pant pleats on the dawn of the Apocalypse seemed silly.
When the amulet had slipped out of the pocket and thudded to the floor, he could hardly believe his dumb luck. There it was, resting in an indentation in the plush carpet, as though it could be a coin or a paperclip—the key to opening the gate, the very thing that would help determine humanity’s fate. Just sitting on the floor of Dmitri’s London flat.
“It’s a beautiful piece,” Anton choked out. And indeed it was. Not even as long as a cigarette, the cerulean cylinder of stone reflected the ambient light, making it appear to glow.
“Yes, and it’s mine,” Dmitri returned with a hard edge to his voice. “Set it on the bureau and take your leave.”
Anton’s eyes narrowed with longing. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly let it go so easily. “Sir, this is far too important a thing to have in your pocket. Maybe I could put it in the safe downstairs?”
“Anton, I said to put ... it ... down.”
Dmitri’s ire had risen to full staff in the passing of a moment, his eyes darkening. Immediately, Anton knew that short of hand-to-hand combat, in which case Anton’s hand and the arm to which it was attached would probably end up separate from his torso in short order, he wasn’t getting anywhere with the amulet. With caution befitting the handling of a grenade, he gently deposited it atop Dmitri’s bureau and stood at the ready.
“Something you want, Anton?”
“Just curious, sir, if you’re done with the Mexican?”
There was pure stoicism in his response. “Not yet. Almost. By morning for sure. Just hope his life force is enough for me to do my part.”
“You could always feed some more, if you’re in doubt,” Anton suggested.
“Volunteering?”
“No, sir. I thought, maybe Smyth.”
“No! Smyth is to remain unharmed.”
Anton cocked his head. “Sir?”
“I’m going to tell him.”
Again, Anton was confused. “Tell him what?”
Dmitri threw his robe over the bed as he turned to his bureau, fishing out enough clothes to keep him necessarily proper.
“Everything.”
As though a dagger had just gone through him, Anton fell back. Tell Smyth everything? What had the insignificant man done to deserve that? The “Russian mob boss” had only taken Anton into his trust less than two months ago, finally sharing with him all that Anton secretly already knew. Was he really going to be given the shaft again? Just like with Victoria and her darling Alex, Dmitri had found his token human confidante.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
Dmitri’s head cocked to the side as he looked up from the work of doing his buttons on his shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were jealous. But that wouldn’t make sense, would it? You already know everything I’m going to tell him, so what would you have to be jealous over?”
The valet shifted from side to side. “Nothing, sir. It’s just ... how can you trust him? He’s an outsider. He’s a no one.” Anton thought a moment. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but suddenly an exit seemed to open for him. “If that’s your decision, sir, I wonder at what my years of service have really meant to you. And if, indeed, there’s a chance the world is about to end, I’d rather spend my last few hours following my own passions and not in your employment.”
“Are you quitting, Anton?”
He couldn’t believe he was saying it, and now when the end was so close. “I’m in love with someone, sir. And if there’s a chance I might die soon, I’d rather have her know it than not.”
Dmitri looked actually sympathetic. “A secret
love you’ve kept from me? Well, you are coy. So certain she’ll accept you?”
“I’m making a hopeful wager, sir.”
Dmitri nodded, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “I can understand taking risks in the name of love.”
“Then you accept my resignation?”
With measured steps, Dmitri crossed the room, holding out his hand. “Don’t be so quick to assume that this is the end. I might still have some cards hidden up my sleeve. But one shouldn’t hesitate to love, and love madly. We never know how much time fate will allow us to be with the one we treasure. Good luck, Anton. I hope she feels the same way.”
As Anton turned to leave the room, he sighed. “Me, too, sir. Me, too.”
Chapter 16
“What the hell are we doing here? How did we ... did we ... ”
Hector broke into a cacophony of coughs and gags as Shep pulled the blanket up and tucked him in.
“Just like when we were in grad school. You can’t tolerate the slightest bit of cold.”
Hector gave a weak smile, but still couldn’t seem to stop shivering. How his friend had gone so quickly from a picture of health to the pale, lethargic mess in front of him, Shep hadn’t a clue. When they had arrived to the converted warehouse in the Docklands after an hour’s drive from Heathrow, Shep was filled with more questions than answers. As usual, the effects of the alcohol he’d pilfered from the limo only numbed his mind briefly. Sobriety and Hector’s condition left him bewildered.
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