Dark Stranger The Dream: New & Lengthened 2017 Edition (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series)

by I. T. Lucas

  “What are you doing here, Kri?”

  “I thought I’d stop by on my way to the gym and see if you wanted to join me for a workout.” Avoiding his eyes, Kri looked down at her cup.

  The girl had a silly crush on him and was using every excuse as an opportunity to spend more time with him.

  Kian ignored it.

  Descending from the same matrilineal line, they were considered closely related despite the many generations separating them.

  A serious taboo.

  Not that he would have ever considered anything even if that wasn’t the case. In his mind, Kri would always be his little niece.

  He figured she’d get over it.

  Being only forty-one years old, Kri was barely a teenager in near-immortal terms, and like a mortal teenager, he assumed she suffered from a case of transitory, immature infatuation.

  One she would laugh off later in life.

  Kian glared at her, then turned to glare at the guys. “From now on, no one comes up here before nine in the morning, capisce?” He regarded their despondent faces. “And I want you to knock and wait to be allowed in. No more waltzing in whenever you feel like it. This is not the goddamn subway station!”

  They had the same exchange every couple of weeks. Like spoiled kids, they’d behave for a while, then go back to pissing him off.

  That was the trouble with employing family. What could he do? Couldn’t fire them, couldn’t smother them either. It would upset their mothers.

  Kian sighed.

  “But the waffles, Kian! The waffles!” Kri lamented in mock despair.

  “Get the fucking recipe!”

  A loud knock announced another member of the team. Okidu rushed over to open it for Onegus, the head of the Guardians.

  Taking one sniff of the tantalizing aroma, Onegus smiled his Hollywood smile, and, what a surprise, immediately beelined for the kitchen.

  At least the SOB was actually supposed to show up for his morning meeting with Kian.

  “Oh no you don’t! Everybody out! Let’s move the party to the other room!” Kian passed through the butler’s pantry into the dining room, which was never used for its primary function. Kian ate at the kitchen counter and never had the kind of guests he wanted to invite to a sit-down dinner.

  He liked to work from home, though, so when needed, he used the room for informal meetings. Not that this was a meeting.

  More like a home invasion...

  His home office was his quiet place to work, and he didn’t want the gang invading it and messing with his neatly arranged stuff.

  On some level, the fact that the whole force could fit easily inside his dining room was depressing. The number of Guardians had shrunk in recent years, and with only seven of them remaining, their duties were limited to providing security detail, mainly to him as Regent, and internal policing—enforcing the clan’s laws.

  Back in the old country, when the force had still been the size of a small battalion, Kian had led it into more battles than he cared to remember. In the days of hand to hand combat, when the Guardians had been tasked with protecting and guarding the clan’s turf, the force had numbered between sixty and eighty warriors. But as times had changed—the USA becoming a relatively safe place for them to live and hide in—it had dwindled down, its defense services no longer needed.

  Kian, as the clan’s American Regent, was in charge of the Guardians as well as heading the local clan-council. And that was in addition to managing the clan’s huge business empire.

  He snorted as he remembered thinking that acting as Regent, over what were now two hundred eighty-three people, would be an easy job. It wasn’t.

  With their business empire growing and branching into various industries, Kian was working harder and longer than ever. There simply weren’t enough goddamned hours in the day. Was it a wonder then that he was short-tempered and irritable?

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had some time off.

  Just as his uninvited guests, and Onegus, were preparing to plant their butts on the chairs surrounding his long dining table, Kian’s cell phone vibrated.

  He pulled it out and glanced at the caller’s name before answering. “Arwel. What’s up in the Bay Area?”

  There was a moment of silence, then a sigh.

  Kian felt a ripple of anxiety rush down his spine. “Talk to me!”

  “Mark was found dead in his home this morning.” Arwel paused.

  Kian remained silent, stunned by the impossible news.

  “His cleaning lady found him on the floor of his living room and called 911. He had my number on his Advanced Decision Card, listing me as next of kin.”

  Arwel’s speech faltered. It had been a while since a member of their family had been killed. The security and anonymity the clan enjoyed in their adopted home made them complacent. The pain of loss had faded into distant memory. Facing it once again was hard, more so for Arwel.

  The poor guy had enough trouble coping with life as it was, with his over-receptive mind bombarded relentlessly by the emotions of others. To protect himself, he often drank excessively. Though he sounded sober now.

  “His body was intact. The paramedics declared heart failure as the probable cause of death. Obviously, we know what that means—fangs and venom. We checked his house for clues.” There was another pause. “Doomers got him, Kian. They are here and have somehow found Mark.”

  As Kian’s mind processed the implications, the chill that had started in his heart upon first hearing the disturbing news spread out to encompass his entire body.

  DOOM—the Devout Order Of Mortdh Brotherhood—was his clan’s ancient enemy. Sworn to annihilate every last member of his family and destroy any and all progress Annani was helping humanity achieve, they sought to plunge the world back into ignorance and darkness.

  Theirs wasn’t an idle threat.

  Time and again, the order had manipulated mortal affairs by planting seeds of hatred, triggering wars, and dragging humanity down—successfully halting and reversing social and scientific advancement all too often.

  The DOOM Brotherhood was a relentless scourge.

  It was Kian’s worst nightmare made manifest. He had believed that hiding in plain sight among the multitudes of mortals would keep his family safe from this powerful enemy. And yet, the Doomers had somehow gotten to Mark.

  “Are you sure he was murdered by Doomers?”

  “They left a message taped to his computer screen.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Nothing and everything. It’s a drawing. Two sickle swords crossed at the handle, flanking a disk. Their fucking emblem. I took a photo of it.”

  “Send me the picture.”

  “Hold on.”

  Kian switched screens. The image of the crude drawing was blurry, but there was no mistaking the DOOM’s emblem.

  As grief and impotent rage warred for dominance over his emotions, he pushed up from his chair and began pacing.

  As a man of solution-driven action, Kian felt an irrational, overbearing need to do something, anything, that would make this all go away. Except, there was no action that would bring Mark back. No going back in time and changing the decisions that had led to this.

  The only thing left for him to do was to mourn the dead and safeguard the living.

  “Bring our boy home... Take the jet and bring him here,” he told Arwel, then paused to realign his mental gears and get them in motion.

  “Check his body and make sure they didn’t plant any tracking devices on him. The bastards know we’d bring Mark home for a proper service. Can’t risk them following you here. Go through his place again, see if anything is missing. Check for any clues that can point to us; letters, photos, personal mementos, and the sort. If you find anything like that, bring it here. I’m sure his mother will want to have it. Pay attention to details. I need to know if they found anything.”

  “I’m on it!” Arwel was about to hang up.

  “Arwel! I’m no
t done. I want all clan members from your area evacuated. Have Bhathian contact them and explain the gravity of the situation. Provide each one with a different route and mode of transportation. I don’t want a mad rush to the airport. They are to take nothing and tell no one. Just get up and go. We’ll take care of the details once everyone is safe.”

  “They are not gonna like it, boss.”

  “I know, but until we figure out what went down, they’ll be chilling their butts over here. I’d rather have them pissed than dead.”

  Kian ended the call and turned to the Guardians. By the look of their somber faces, they were ready to hear the bad news, waiting for the boulder to start rolling and come crashing down on them.

  It was one of those moments everyone dreads; the unexpected disaster striking out of nowhere, destroying the illusion that you’re in control, and shoving the cruel reality in your face.

  Shit happens! Deal with it!

  Squaring his shoulders, Kian delivered the grim update. “As you’ve probably figured out, we have a situation. Mark, son of Micah, was murdered in his home last night.” Kian lifted his phone to show them the DOOM emblem. “This was left behind, taped to his computer screen.”

  “Fuck!” was the only response from Anandur. Brundar and Onegus looked ready to kill, and Kri sniffled, trying to hold back her tears.

  None of them knew Mark very well, but they knew of him; the clan’s genius programmer. His loss was devastating not only on a personal level but also as an asset that would be difficult to replace.

  Kian sat down and dropped his elbows on the table, then hung his head on his fisted hands. “It’s all my fault. I take full responsibility,” he admitted, the guilt eating at his gut.

  With a curse, Onegus brought his fist down on the table. “How could it be your fault, Kian? Beyond your usual spiel of being Regent and responsible for everyone and everything. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  “It is my fault. I might as well have placed a neon sign, pointing to his head and blinking: Here I am. Come get me! Anyone with half a brain could’ve figured out that a code this sophisticated couldn’t have been developed with current knowhow.”

  Kian had known he was taking a big risk by allowing Mark to leak too much info too soon. But he had felt he had no choice. The risk of WMDs in the hands of power-hungry despots outweighed the risk of exposure. And besides, he had never imagined that the Doomers would come after Mark. He’d assumed that if they’d retaliate, they’d do it the same way they had always done, using the mortals under their influence against those the clan was helping.

  Kian continued, “After so many years with no casualties, we’ve become complacent. And even before, the few of us the Doomers managed to snare were random cases of a male being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’ve never been able to hunt us down successfully; there are just too few of us, and we hide too well. Except now, I feel like I’ve drawn the fuckers a goddamned yellow brick road!”

  “Maybe they just got lucky with Mark?” Kri suggested. Which earned her the condescending you-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look from the others.

  “No, guys, just hear me out. Think of how the Doomers always retaliated before. They went after our humans or helped theirs against ours. Suppose the Doomers were seeking revenge on the team that worked on that code. They somehow find them, identify Mark as the top programmer, and decide to take him out; send us a message. I bet they didn’t even know he was one of us.”

  Kri got more animated. “We never used to work so close with mortals. We’d supply a bit of information and back off, let them work on it, figure it on their own. Then we’d supply some more, so it would look legit—home grown. No way the Doomers were expecting to find an immortal working on the same team with mortals. No freaking way!” Kri stared them down, daring them to try and refute her logic.

  “She might have a point,” Onegus admitted.

  “Even if Kri is right, that doesn’t change the outcome. Doomers still found and murdered Mark. And now that they have a clue as to what to look for and where, they might find more of us.” Kian pushed to his feet and walked over to Kri. “Good thinking, though. You’re a smart girl.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  At any other time, under different circumstances, Kri would’ve been ecstatic to receive this kind of praise from Kian. Now, she just nodded and reached for his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it back.

  “Sire, the waffles are ready!” Okidu chose that moment to bring in a loaded platter. He placed it carefully on the sideboard, then scurried away, expecting a stampede. But the food was ignored.

  “Thank you, Okidu,” Kian dismissed him. “Actually, I need you to do one more thing. Make sure we have four clean, vacant apartments ready, and if you could, please air Amanda’s penthouse. We are about to have overnight guests.”

  “Certainly, sire!” Okidu bowed.

  “Thank you.” Kian nodded to Okidu and faced the Guardians.

  “Onegus, I want you to call an emergency council meeting for nine in the evening today. Don’t tell them what it’s about. I don’t want anyone calling Micah to offer condolences before I see her. No one should get news like that over the phone. We’ll meet in the big council room. Instruct everyone to wear their ceremonial robes. I’m going to demand sequestering for all council members, which they will surely bitch and moan about. But we don’t have enough manpower to provide security detail for each of them separately. I need them here, protected. Hopefully, the formalities will impress upon them how serious I am about this. That will be all.”

  Kian’s eyes followed his people as they pushed away from the table and silently trudged toward the living room. Onegus pulled open the front door, and with a slight nod, left followed by the somber brothers. Kri remained behind, looking lost.

  Walking up to her, Kian took her in his arms and let her burrow her nose into his neck, hugging her for a long moment. Being so young, she had never faced the loss of a friend, and unlike the men’s emotions which had been deadened by centuries of countless battles, hers were still raw with pain and grief. When she sighed and let go of him, he looked into her eyes, making sure she was okay.

  But there was a reason he’d taken Kri on as a guardian. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed her chin up, and the determination he saw in her eyes proved to him that she really was the hard-ass he’d hired.

  “Go, I need time to plan.” He dismissed her with a pat to her back.

  Alone, Kian allowed himself to drift on the waves of guilt and dread for a few moments, letting his mind go in different directions, envisioning every foreseeable danger and coming up with creative if not feasible solutions. It was an old and tried technique of his. Like purging out the pus from a malignant wound; eventually the blood would run clean, and healing would start.

  Regrettably, other than the steps he’d already taken, he came up with nothing.

  First thing on his agenda was persuading his sister to move into the keep. Out of all the council members, he expected her to give him the most trouble. He’d better talk to her before the meeting and prepare her. It would save him the public drama. Besides, getting Amanda to safety was a priority.

  Good luck with that.

  Preparing for battle, he pulled out his phone and called her.

  After the initial shock over the news had worn off and her sniffles had subsided, she protested, “I can’t just abandon my lab or not show up for classes.

  Kian cut her short. “So come to the meeting and vote against!”

  “You know how the vote will go!” she hissed.

  “Yes I do. And if you had an ounce of wisdom in that brain of yours, you wouldn’t be fighting me over this. More than your life is in danger. If they find you, they wouldn’t kill you, you’d just wish they had.”

  Amanda huffed. “You’re overestimating the risk. They are not going to find me. And if you’re that concerned about my safety, assign a couple of Guardians to watch over me.”

  “You know we are short
on Guardians. That’s why I’m calling for the sequestering of all council members. I just can’t keep everyone safe unless they are all in one location.”

  “Find a solution. I’m not leaving my work.” She ended the call.

  Kian sighed and ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, smoothing back the flyaway strands. He’d have to go over to her place himself and convince her it was the smart thing to do.

  Or, what was more likely, drag her out kicking and screaming.

  Chapter 10: Kian

  It was oppressively quiet in the SUV on the way to Amanda’s lab. The Lexus’s almost soundproof interior filtered the outside traffic noise, leaving Brundar and Anandur’s tight-lipped silence undisturbed.

  Kian craved a cigarette, desperately, and a shot of whiskey or two.

  He’d quit smoking years ago, but here and there the craving returned with gusto. Like it did now. It wasn’t concern for his health that had prompted him to get rid of the habit, after all, his kind didn’t get cancer or heart disease. He just hated smelling like an ashtray. The way the stench had used to cling to his hair and clothing had disgusted him.

  Though he would kill for one now.

  Comforting the devastated Micah had been excruciating. It had left him empty and deflated. There was no good way to deliver this kind of news to a mother. You offered your sympathy, said how sorry you were, offered your help in anything and everything.

  Blah, blah, blah... The words hadn’t even registered. In the end, he’d just held her while she’d cried.

  And in the aftermath, he’d been left with no energy to deal with Amanda.

  Heaving a sigh, Kian gazed out the window and watched the cars passing them by. He wondered what kind of sorrows their mortal occupants were hiding behind their impassive expressions.

  There was so much anguish in their short, miserable lives, and family dying on them was such an integral part of their experience that it defined the whole of their existence. He suspected humans coped with the depressing certainty of their own mortality by keeping it out of their thoughts in any way they could. It sucked.