Tentyrian Legacy (35 page)

Subordinates are notorious for getting
distracted with their need for blood. And that is exactly what
happened with Marcellus. Arianna somehow slipped out of the
doctor’s house while he followed two delectable Girl Scouts selling
cookies. Fucking Samoas. By the time he came back to the house, she
was gone, and all he managed to do was slaughter a dog and take the
word of an old man who’d likely take the truth with him to the
grave.

The doctor told Marcellus that Arianna had
gone back to the City, and the fool believed him. If he had any
brains at all, he’d have seen that her bag was still there. If only
he had waited . . . Now, she has disappeared. No doubt the
Brotherhood is responsible. Even the listening device he planted is
now deactivated. Useless. I throw the crystal tumbler at the wall
and watch it shatter into hundreds of glittering pieces. My tension
feels a fraction better, but only a fraction.

I’ve been following the Brotherhood’s
movements and their businesses for quite some time. And likewise,
they’ve been doing the same with mine. For centuries, we’ve tried
to dismantle each other, and there have been ample successes on
both sides. Out of all the destroyed homes, compounds, and
facilities, I still miss my castle in Romania the most.
Fortunately, the Brotherhood hasn’t been able to kill me or the
rest of the “Dark Coven,” as they so aptly call us. The layer of
Subordinates we have between ourselves and them is thick. I’m
untouchable.

The difference between my own methods and
those of the Brotherhood is that I don’t get my hands dirty. The
Brotherhood may have its soldiers, but I have Subordinates willing
to obey my every whim, as long as they don’t let their bloodlust
get out of hand. Subordinates can be unfocused at times but they
are loyal; they don’t have a choice. Additionally, they pose no
threat to power. When they get out of control, they are
eliminated.

Calix has been whining for centuries for us
to create our own army. The Tentyrian Guards we used to help carry
out the coup had long ago been eliminated; most of them died locked
in the Sanctum. Thank the goddesses that the four of us got of the
Sanctum when we did. But I keep telling Calix, it’s about the
bigger picture. Why would you want to be a god among equals? That’s
why we removed what was of our race to begin with.

It feels like I’ve waited my entire life for
this moment. The years of hiding, planning, and amassing the
business contacts, resources, and wealth I’ve needed to get to this
point have been slow and methodical. But when you have forever, you
have plenty of time. We’ve had to evolve our strategies over the
years. And with every evolution, it seems the plan has become
grander in design. Making it all that more beautiful to
execute.

At first, it was just about having the
freedom to do what we wanted without rules. We turned as many
humans as we wanted into mind slaves and we fed as often as we
wanted, without restraint. Since it was just the four of us
initially, and we moved around so often, the Brotherhood didn’t
stand a chance of finding us back then. But after more than a
thousand years of our nomadic and gluttonous lifestyle, we began to
put down some roots, and our real plans started to take shape.

Even as we settled down, the world was still
a much simpler place. We could rule as kings and queens, without
question, and we did. The feudal system was wonderful, and we made
quite a name for ourselves in Europe. But as time went on, the
humans became more numerous, practically swallowing up any
unpopulated lands. They also became smarter, more organized,
weaponized, and dangerous. I’ll admit it; I never saw the
progression of humanity come as far as Hathor predicted. The days
of our unchecked freedom were numbered.

It was about the time of the Industrial
Revolution when I determined change needed to occur and that the
Dark Coven would pave the way to a new Eden. We started to
selectively push dominos over among the humans, causing ripple
effects of destruction and death. We dabbled in both the world
wars, plague outbreaks, famines, and even assassinations of
political leaders. We made events happen in our favor and profited
from the results—whether it was from the purchase of our weapons to
the chaos itself the events created. The beauty of it was that the
net outcome was always the same—humans killing each other without
us having to actually do it. Meanwhile, we reaped all the
rewards.

I had thought by now that, even without our
help, the humans would have made more progress in obliterating each
other. We should have had a nuclear war, at least. They came close
several times, especially during the Cuban missile crisis, which we
played a not-so-subtle role in. But somehow, they’ve been able to
prevail. If Tentyrian evolution is a miracle, so is humanity’s
ability to live this long. With seven billion strong, it’s time to
wipe the slate partially clean and recalibrate the Earth’s balance.
And that’s exactly what will happen—soon. Funny, it seems like just
yesterday the Council was talking about resetting the balance.

I’m not sure exactly how Arianna Parker fits
into this, but the Brotherhood’s interest in her is significant.
They’ve been recruiting her aggressively to join Leo, and they even
sent her to look at Apex, which is one of my holdings they are
investigating. If it weren’t for her shocking resemblance to Daria,
I wouldn’t give her a second thought. But after seeing the footage
of her the night of Leo’s party, I know she’s more than just a
prospective employee.

I need to get my hands on her and figure out
who or what she is. My stomach is curling into knots just thinking
about the possibility she is a Tentyrian descendent . . . or worse,
a Luminary. I still don’t know how it’s possible. We took great
measures to ensure that everyone was dead. . . If she has power
like Daria’s, or worse, Hathor’s, there will surely be more
complications ahead.

My hunch that she was once a patient of Dr.
Raad seems accurate, but her medical records have vanished. We
searched his home and office and the hospital where she may have
been treated. There was no paper file on her, and unfortunately the
hospital hadn’t digitized her records. No one questioned at Silver
Hill, even with Aglaia’s persuasive methods, recalled her name.
Likely the Brotherhood at work. Additionally, her parents are out
of the country, and only their useless cleaning staff—who don’t
even know Arianna—is home.

It all seems too convenient. Fortunately,
it’s only a matter of time before we find the information we’re
looking for. Aglaia will uncover if Arianna has anything to hide,
once she locates the girl’s friends and acquaintances. And the good
doctor is bound to crack eventually, which reminds me I should call
Calix to check on his progress. Better yet, I should see for
myself.

I press the buzzer again. “Bridget, I’m
leaving. Clear my afternoon.”

“Yes, sir.”

She’s a good girl, obedient. That’s what I
like. She lost her spark when I turned her into a Human
Subordinate, but that’s what happens. Sometimes I miss that spark,
especially of Tentyrian women in general. Hathor used to give me a
run for my money. Too bad she turned into a heartless bitch. I
thought Selene would be a good mate. But she didn’t make it to the
end. Pity, considering her power was so useful. I figured I would
mourn her loss for a while, but surprisingly I didn’t. It must not
have been love after all.

It’s a beautiful day out. The summer heat has
lifted, and the City doesn’t stink as bad. Compared to how it
smelled in 1900, it’s like a spring garden out there. I wouldn’t
mind riding in the Bentley, watching the vermin try to see who’s
behind the tinted glass. But using human transportation makes one a
target, and the Brotherhood has been closing in lately. Better to
be safe than sorry.

I lean back in the chair and close my eyes,
envisioning the sterile lab in New Jersey where so many of our
Human Subordinates are hard at work engineering DTPA12. DTPA12 is
our unique formula of diethylenetriaminepentaacetic acid, designed
to bind to metals and particles of radioactive elements in
plutonium, americium, and curium. Soon enough, I’ll be the sole
distributor of the only drug capable of treating the unique
radiation sickness when it sweeps the globe.

I imagine the interrogation room where Calix
is keeping the doctor and direct my energy toward it, embracing the
familiar cool that comes with shifting as it brushes over my
skin.

“Stavros, I wasn’t expecting you,” says Calix
nonchalantly as he looks up from the syringe he’s filling.
Arrogant, per usual. The sleeves of his purple gingham button-down
are rolled up, and he’s tossed his blazer aside. I notice a few
spots of blood on his leather Gucci loafers. How unusual for him,
as he always looks pristine.

The combination of Calix’s slick demeanor and
his boyish good looks, akin to a California surfer without the tan,
make him irresistible to women. While I may not have his golden
curls or cherubic face, I make up for it with my power and
intelligence. It’s been amusing to watch Calix and his female
dalliances all these years, but it’s almost impossible to be
jealous of him. At the end of the day, Calix will never have the
foresight to be a rival.

The doctor is a mess, but white cotton
bandages cover his damaged neck and the lacerations on his body.
The smell of his blood is tainted by the smell of antiseptic,
making him not even remotely tempting. He appears unconscious in
the examination chair he’s strapped to, as his head hangs limply.
The harsh fluorescent lighting really isn’t doing anything for his
bruised and bloodied complexion.

“Any progress?” I ask.

“Marcellus did a number on him, but he’ll
heal,” answers Calix. “I’ve given him antibiotics, steroids, and
painkillers to help. Torture is not the way to get to him. But I’m
not sure if I can get into his mind just yet. I haven’t encountered
a mental block in a human like this since we killed those Shaolin
monks. Remember that raid?”

“Ah yes, 1351, the Red Turban Rebellion.
Those monks put up a good fight.”

“They did but not good enough,” Calix says
with a smirk. He flicks the syringe, and clear droplets squirt out
as he applies pressure to the plunger.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“A psychoactive medication.”

“Truth serum? Will it work?”

“In conjunction with my power, I should be
able to get something out of him.”

“Be careful; don’t scare him to death with a
heart attack.”

“That’s what the defibrillator is for,” says
Calix as he points to the set of paddles bolted to the wall. This
should be interesting. Calix injects the doctor, and we wait a few
minutes in silence. Calix checks his pulse. He then slaps the
doctor with a loud thwack. A white mark appears on the doctor’s
golden cheek and quickly turns to red. His eyes flutter, and he
lets out a groan.

“What . . . do . . . you want?” he asks, his
tongue thick in his mouth. Calix looks to me, giving me the
honors.

“How do you know Arianna Parker?” I ask
slowly, allowing him time to register my question.

“She is jusssstt a friend,” he says with a
slight slur. The doctor’s almond eyes are glazed as he looks
straight ahead, at nothing.

“He’s lying, Calix.”

“I know. He’s been trained in
counter-interrogation techniques. We’ll just need to give it some
time. Don’t worry, I’ll work my magic.”

“Now Aman, we know that’s not true. Arianna
is in great danger right now, and we need to find her. We can’t do
that unless you help us,” coos Calix.

“Where is sheee?” he asks calmly.

“She’s been kidnapped.”

“Funny, I thought that was whaaat happened to
me,” he says wryly. His split lip is still bloodied, and the saliva
in his mouth is pink.

“Is it? Is that what happened to you?” Calix
asks innocently. He places his hands on the doctor’s head. I can
feel the energy in the air that he is directing at the doctor,
trying to instill a false memory in him—likely something that will
scare the shit out of him. Raad’s head vibrates slightly in Calix’s
grasp, and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Fuck! He’s still too strong. He won’t let me
in,” responds Calix as he pulls away with obvious frustration.

“You won’t get anything out of me,” whispers
Raad as he blinks repeatedly, trying to clear the haze of Calix’s
attempted mind manipulation. Calix ushers me outside of the room to
stand in front of the pressure-locked door to the general lab
area.

“I just need more time, Stavros.”

“That’s a luxury we don’t have, Calix. I need
to know why the Brotherhood wants her! Hopefully Aglaia has found
something helpful. Call me when you break him.”

“I’m not your Subordinate, Stavros. Remember
that,” Calix warns. “No you aren’t, Calix, but you don’t want me as
an enemy.” I keep my voice calm.