by Aja James
Fortunately, Sophia liked these two particular body guards. Aella was her best friend and Cloud… well, Cloud was the source of her best friend’s greatest frustration, if things continued the way they were. Sophia had never seen the Amazon goddess confounded and thwarted by any male, and now that she finally met her match, it was rather fun being an interested, third-party observer.
“Tell me again why we had to take the subway when there are plenty of taxis and limos at our disposal? Or even Uber for Goddess’ sake,” Aella griped as she wound her wooly red scarf more securely around her throat.
Aside from that one concession to the winter cold, she was all sleek black leather and golden blonde hair that cascaded in waves to her lower back. Even the unshockable citizens of New York City stared in awe at her perfect beauty as they passed by.
“We’re on a mission, remember?” Sophia answered with a smile, knowing her friend’s complaints had less to do with the subway and more to do with the male at her side. “Two missions, actually.”
Sophia rubbed her ungloved hands together and breathed heat into them to warm them up. “We need to help the Vampire Queen and also try to recruit more Pure Ones while we’re here. Where better for me to find Pure souls than the crowded subway?”
Sophia, while human, did possess the Gift of being able to detect Pure souls. After the Shield was attacked this past Fall, they desperately needed to rebuild their numbers, especially to recruit more warrior-class Pure Ones. With the enemy still at large, they had to move fast.
“And the same reason applies for our promenade through Times Square now?” Aella asked, a small smile on her lips. Apparently, her good humor had returned as the threesome began strolling down Seventh Avenue.
Sophia shrugged, putting an extra bounce in her footsteps. “Sure. We can chalk it up to the mission, but really I just wanted to breathe the city in.”
“You want to inhale the pollution, car exhaust and trash fumes?” Aella needled.
Sophia gave her a sideways look. “Nothing you can say can dampen my mood. Why don’t you wrap your arms around Cloud’s like you want to instead of whining for attention?”
Aella darted a hasty glance at the male walking on the other side of Sophia. Seeing that he was busy surveying the area and people around them, not paying attention to their bantering, the Amazon breathed a sigh of relief.
Just in case, she pinched Sophia on the upper arm hard enough that the young Pure Queen felt it through her goose down coat and layers of clothing.
“Ow!” Sophia rubbed her sore spot and glared at her vindictive friend.
“Everything all right?” Cloud asked, half with concern, half indulgence.
He was used to Aella and Sophia’s harmless bickering by now. They reminded him of the two Stooges sometimes with their teasing and antics. He hoped that didn’t mean he was supposed to be the third.
Still eyeing Aella suspiciously, Sophia leaned closer into Cloud’s side and wrapped both her arms around the warrior’s left. Cloud took her sudden show of affection in stride like an older brother who was used to spoiling his baby sister, and Sophia sent Aella a triumphant look.
Green-eyed with envy, Aella gave herself a mental shake and focused on the task at hand.
To Cloud, she asked, “Seth said to meet the Commander of the Chosen this evening after sundown, correct?”
Keeping his gaze sharpened on their surroundings, the Valiant answered, “Yes. At Penn Station, in front of the main departures board.”
“Will he be alone?”
“Seth did not say, but I assume he may bring one or two of the Chosen to even the odds.”
While the New England vampires and the Pure Ones had an informal truce of sorts, neither side moved without precaution.
Trust was earned, never assumed.
“Word has it that Maximus Justus Copernicus is one of the most fearsome warriors in the entire vampire race, not only because of his experience and skill, but his ability to anticipate his opponents’ moves two or three steps in advance,” Aella reported with grudging admiration.
“You’ve been doing homework,” Cloud acknowledged, glancing at her briefly before focusing on surveillance again.
“Naturally,” Aella said, no boastful inflection in her tone.
It was her job, after all, as the Pure Ones’ Strategist to scope out options and take careful measure of their friends and foes.
“I’ve made a study of the members of the Chosen over the past few months. Their fighting prowess during that critical battle was most impressive. We could not have overcome the odds without their assistance.”
“Oooh,” Sophia chimed in, “you must have all the juicy gossip on the vampire Queen’s personal guard. Do tell.”
When Aella “made a study” of something or someone, she left no stone unturned.
Aella did her elegant non-rolling-eye expression, giving her young charge a look of condescension. “Beg pardon, I do not gossip. My research is nothing short of art.”
Sophia did roll her eyes at that, perhaps too immature for a woman who was now old enough to vote, but she couldn’t help herself when Aella was around to goad her.
“Share in your knowledge, oh wise one,” she intoned, “What did you find out about the Chosen?”
Needing no further prompting, all seriousness once more, Aella reported to both Sophia and Cloud, “As you know, Maximus is the Chosen’s Commander. Besides leading these elite warriors, he trains new recruits and enforces the law among the vampire kind within the New England territory. He is seldom without his panther Simca, who is also an immortal, like your stallion.”
Cloud nodded in understanding. Simca, like his steed, White Dragon, was both eternal companion as well as formidable weapon, an extension of the warrior himself.
“His second in command is Anastasia, call sign Phoenix,” Aella continued. “Her ability is telekinesis. And then there’s Ryu Takamura, the Assassin.”
At this, a small frown knit Aella’s dark blonde brows together. “His abilities I am still researching. Most likely there is more than one. He is perhaps the most dangerous of them all, a deadly Ninja in his human life.”
“I recall three blondes at the battle,” Cloud asserted. “A male and two females.”
Indeed, the three fair-haired warriors had stood out in the dark catacombs of their nemesis’ lair like fallen angels in the pit of Hell.
Aella nodded. “The male is Devlin Sinclair, call sign Hunter. As his moniker describes, he’s responsible for hunting vampire Rogues. Maximus, Anastasia and he often work together. I’m not sure that he has a special ability besides those that are trained and honed through experience. Few vampires, in fact, possess special gifts.”
Only those who were once Pure Ones retained their Gift when they became vampire. That, and True Bloods. But the latter were all but extinct after the Purge of the Great War.
“One of the females had the uncanny ability to know exactly where enemy vampires were coming out of the tunnels,” Cloud recalled. “I observed her catching most of them by surprise with moves that anticipated their entry into battle.”
“Ah yes,” Aella agreed, inwardly impressed by the warrior’s attention to detail. “That would be Nana Chastain, call sign Angel. She has the ability to see through solid barriers as well as hone in on objects far away, rather like an infrared telescope, but far more powerful. I have not been able to trace her origins, but word has it she’s the eldest vampire of Jade Cicada’s inner circle, older even than the Queen herself.”
This was a noteworthy anomaly, which the threesome tucked away for future reference. Typically, hives were ruled by the eldest vampire, for they were usually also the most powerful.
“And last, we have Simone Lafayette, the Keeper. She oversees the queen’s affairs, serves as her advisor and assists Maximus in his duties. Perhaps her most important role is being the guardian of the Ecliptic Scrolls.”
“Like the Zodiac Scrolls?” Sophia inquired.
Aella gave one nod in the affirmative. “I don’t know the details, Eveline is sure to know more, but I believe the Ecliptic Scrolls were written during the time that preceded the Great War. Some say they predate the Zodiac Scrolls, but no one can confirm since there are few recorded survivors, vampires and Pure Ones alike, from that age.”
As they digested that, Cloud switched back to the topic at hand. “And the Queen, Jade Cicada, what is her power?”
Aella gave him a sideways glance and hesitated. She paused long enough that Cloud looked over Sophia’s head directly at her, piercing her with his unusual laser-blue eyes.
Aella looked away abruptly and answered, “She can take energy from others, even absorb their powers if they have any, for a short period of time. This she does through the taking of their blood, their souls if she’s so inclined, or her most preferred method… through sex.”
Aella surreptitiously darted a look at Cloud. Seeing no visible reaction, she went on, “They say the vampire Queen is nigh irresistible sexually to males and females alike if she turns on her seductive powers. She is reputed to be one of the Great Beauties of all time.”
They had turned at some point during their leisurely stroll and were now in front of Rockefeller Center, overlooking the skating rink on the Lower Plaza.
Trying to distract her friend from over-speculating about the vampire Queen and her seductive prowess, Sophia said loudly in a cheerful voice, “I’m hungry. Let’s get some lunch and digest afterwards with a little shopping. We don’t have to meet Maximus and company until sundown, right? We’ll have plenty of time to strategize later.”
“And by the way,” she added in a lower voice, “I’m pretty sure I detected two Pure souls nearby, within a fifty-foot radius. Maybe one or both of them could be a new recruit.”
*** *** *** ***
“Daddy, look! I can go backwards!”
Gabriel skated forward while Benji painstakingly shuffled backwards on his skates, but Gabriel made sure he was always within arm’s length of his son in case the boy took a tumble. He clapped his hands in encouragement and couldn’t help smiling at Benji’s effervescent joy.
Just one more day, Gabriel told himself. One more day of pure enjoyment and distraction from the stark reality that his five year-old son no longer had a mother, that Gabriel no longer had a wife, and that his recent “earnings” were rapidly dwindling. He’d misestimated the amount of hospice bills and cost of cremation services.
Apparently, without health insurance, the average American tax payer couldn’t afford basic services other countries provided free of charge.
Gabriel needed money fast, or Benji would have to start missing school. He could probably stall another couple of weeks with the month’s advance he was going to give to Mrs. Sergeyev, but he’d have to find a stable, sufficient nine-to-five job very soon. The most obvious avenue would be to go back to work for an architectural firm, but the pay was abysmal and the hours were long. He couldn’t afford to work seventy to eighty hours a week as a single father with a five year-old.
Gabriel took out a business card from his jacket pocket.
On the front it said “Chastain Development & Company International” with contact information and office address. On the back, written in elegant cursive was the number to the Columbia Graduate School of Architecture Assistant Dean’s mobile.
“Give him a call,” Nana had said last night by the river. “I hear he is looking for some gifted teaching assistants, and the positions pay very well, including a benefits package that is available to all university employees.”
He had not extended his hand to receive her generous offer, still reeling from the suddenness of their encounter and how her very presence seemed to turn his world upside down, his emotions inside out. She’d taken his hand and tucked the card within his grasp, the skin-on-skin contact firing up all his nerves like a jolt of electricity.
The rest of their conversation, or rather, her one-sided monologue, was a distant blur.
He barely recalled anything she said. He’d been too busy feeling confused and overwhelmed by the voluptuous emotions she evoked by her mere nearness, spikes of sensations he’d never felt before, yet somehow seemed eerily familiar.
Even now, all he could remember was the subtle fragrance of her hair in the night breeze, the haunting blue of her cat-like eyes, the blood-red of her full lips and the achingly familiar sound of her voice.
It’s like he knew her. Body and soul.
But he couldn’t for the life of him figure out when they might have met before. The knowledge of her seemed to be imprinted in his DNA, irrefutable and everlasting.
Benji had grabbed hold of his hand and started pulling him toward a long, snaking line of skaters, joined by their hands, in the middle of a group game.
Gabriel followed listlessly, still caught up in his inner turmoil. He’d chosen the Rockefeller rink for a reason—he did not want to chance a second encounter with Nana Chastain at the Park so soon after their first (and second) fateful meeting.
He didn’t know what to think, how to feel; he didn’t understand why she had such power over him.
It was as if he was finally awakened after centuries, millennia, of oblivion.
Suddenly, Gabriel tensed and looked up.
At his twelve o’clock, less than ten feet away stood two Eastern European-looking men staring pointedly back at him. They stood out like hulking ogres amidst children and families with their bulky build and towering height, even without wearing ice skates.
One of them jerked his chin toward his left, keeping his eyes trained on Gabriel. The other one subtly pointed toward Benjamin and stretched his thin lips into a threatening smile.
Gabriel got the message. Go with them or expect trouble.
He murmured a few words to Benji, and the boy nodded, grasping a little girl’s hand instead of his father’s, keeping the skating ring intact, and shuffled away happily. Gabriel waited for the skaters to pass and slowly made his way toward the two men.
“Can I help you?” he asked when he was immediately before the strangers.
The more expressive of the two smiled widely, revealing two gold capped front teeth. “The question is, how can we help you,” he said with a strong Russian burr.
“I don’t see how,” Gabriel responded, refusing to play their game.
“Come now,” Mr. Smiley said, “you don’t consider our letting you walk away with ten grand in one night being helpful?”
Gabriel kept his expression neutral, betraying none of the alarm he felt tingling down his spine. “I won that money. You let me have nothing.”
Mr. Smiley and his companion shared a dark look, after which Mr. Smiley responded, “We did not expect you to be so ungrateful, D’Angelo. After all, it is by our rules, with our permission, that you managed to score your wins.”
“I paid the club’s cut,” Gabriel said, knowing that this conversation was going downhill fast, and he had no leverage with the mafia.
“Well, there is that,” Mr. Smiley conceded. “And for your cooperation, we’d like to offer you an even bigger event. How would you like to quintuple your winnings in one night?”
“I’m not interested,” Gabriel replied without hesitation. It was a one time deal. He had known the risks he was taking, and he did not intend to tempt fate again.
Mr. Smiley heaved a put-upon sigh, dipped his chin down, and stared at Gabriel through sunken eye sockets from beneath bushy eyebrows.
“Did I ask if you were interested?” he said in a low, menacing voice, his tone no longer flippant. “Did I say you had a choice?”
A muscle ticked in Gabriel’s clenched jaw.
He did not foresee this. He would never have taken the risk if he’d known this was where it would lead. What did the mafia want with him? Why had they even bothered to find out his real name? The fight clubs were supposed to be anonymous. But he didn’t have time to sort it out.
“And if I don’t play your game?” he asked, kn
owing he would not like the answer.
Mr. Smiley straightened to his full height and stretched his lips into the simile of a smile again. “Then we might have to invite your lovely boy Benjamin to play instead. We know where you live, we know where he goes to school, we could—”
“Enough,” Gabriel cut in, “name the time and place and I’ll be there. If you go anywhere near my son, I will hunt you down and destroy you even if I have to do it from hell.”
Something in Gabriel’s steadfast stare, in the conviction of his voice, made the two men pause. Somehow they knew that this warrior did not make idle threats.
Shrugging off the moment’s hesitation, Mr. Smiley said, “You’ll be hearing from us soon.”
And in another second, the two men had disappeared into the crowds surrounding the rink.
*** *** *** ***
Inanna watched the exchange on the skating rink from the observation deck one level above. She’d zoomed in on the conversation as soon as it started, reading the speakers’ lips.
She understood perfectly.
Gabriel. Fight Club. Benji. Danger.
Whether it was out of concern, obsession, or helpless attraction, she did not care: she was thankful to her instincts for pulling her out of bed in the middle of the afternoon to tail Gabriel and Benji to the Rockefeller Center.
Though she was not as susceptible to the sun’s effects as others of her Kind, she still felt the pull of slumber strongly despite being bundled in black from head to toe, with nearly opaque sunglasses shielding her eyes. She came wide awake, however, as soon as Gabriel approached the two Russians.
She should have been surprised that Gabriel was involved with the fight clubs, but she was not surprised that he was a fighter. Since the first moment she laid eyes on him, she’d sensed the warrior within. The way he moved, the way he perceived his surroundings, everything about him declared that there was much more than met the eye.
