Tentyrian Legacy (51 page)

“What language is it written in?” I ask.

“Greek—ancient Greek, in fact.” Goosebumps
start to rise on my skin.

“Raad is from Iran, so why Greek?” The
tension in my stomach is becoming stronger.

“I’m not exactly sure. But the contents are
certainly remarkable,” says Sorrell.

“What does it say?” I ask eagerly. I can
barely contain myself. “May I?” interrupts Maximos, who reaches for
the book quickly.

The professor hands it over and begins to
explain.

“The majority of the book has typical journal
entries of everyday life. But it’s when you get toward the end
where it starts to get interesting. It’s the last entry of the
book, where the author named Ammon recounts his lineage. He
indicates he is part of a line of people called ‘Guardians’ sworn
to protect a people called ‘Tentyrians’ . . .” Maximos and I look
at each other in shock. “It was the author’s father who insisted he
learn Greek,” continues the professor, “as it was the original
language of their people. The entry indicates that in fact Raad’s
lineage can draw its roots to Egypt! Now where it starts to get
strange . . .”

But before the professor can finish, Maximos
stands up and hands the book to me.

“Where are you going?” asks Sorrell, confused
at the interruption. “Nowhere,” replies Maximos calmly as he walks
closer to Sorrell. “Ari, you know what I have to do,” Maximos says
to me while not taking his eyes off the professor. I can see the
old man’s eyes dilate in response.

“What do you have to do?” asks the professor,
confused. Then with a blur of motion, Maximos bites into his neck,
and the professor lets out a gasp. The venom that is released will
now make Sorrell susceptible to a very strong mind wipe. The
professor has gone quiet, and he is staring blankly ahead, waiting
for Maximos to make the next move. “Before you say anything, Ari, I
had to do it. This is to protect him.

If the Dark Coven knows he has this journal,
who knows what they’ll do to him.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I just didn’t expect
it.”

“He won’t remember a thing. Just put that
book in your purse before I release him.”

I put the journal in my Birkin while Maximos
wipes his memory of ever receiving it. Maximos then nicks his own
palm with his fang in order to draw blood. With his fingertip, he
rubs a dab of his blood on the puncture wounds of the professor’s
neck, which promptly heal. Maximos then releases Sorrell from the
trance.

“Now where was I?” asks the professor.

“We were talking about how Raad hated
funerals,” I remind him. “Ah yes. Can’t say I blame him,” the
professor agrees absently. But he still looks confused, as if he’s
trying to piece something together. “Well we must be on our way,
Professor Sorrell. I’m so glad we could stop by while we were in
town. It was a pleasure seeing you,” I say.

We stand up to say good-bye to the professor
and quickly make our exit. The professor bids us a bewildered
farewell. Rather than shifting back to the hotel, Maximos and I
decide to sit outside on the central quadrangle of the campus.
There, undergrads are playing Ultimate Frisbee and enjoying the
innocent days of college life. It’s amazing they have no idea they
almost died two months ago. We find a bench under a beautiful oak
tree now embracing its shades of burnt oranges and yellows.

“Something tells me you’ll have no problem
reading this,” I say as I pull out the journal from my purse and
hand it to Maximos. Maximos flips to the last few pages and pauses
for several minutes while he absorbs the words. I try reading over
his massive shoulder, but the words just look like meaningless
symbols to me.

“Praise Hathor, this is amazing,” he
says.

“What! What is amazing?” I plead for him to
tell me.

“This tells the story of how the Luminary
children escaped. They made it through the escape tunnel and to the
awaiting boats after all. This author indicates that the story was
passed down to him by word of mouth through the men in his family.
One of his ancestors before him was the Ammon who was the Guardian
to Darrius—Daria’s and Aristos’ son. I actually knew the first
Ammon!”

“Raad’s first name is said the exact same
way. I guess over time the spellings just changed from Ammon to
Aman,” I point out.

“I don’t know why the pieces didn’t click
before, but it all makes sense now. Ari, Aman Raad was your real
Guardian. Even though neither of you knew it.”

“Coincidence or fate?” I ask.

“Fate, surely,” Maximos says reverently.

“Look here at this passage,” Maximos points.
“It says that Ammon and Darrius managed to escape to Britannia.
There, Ammon raised Darrius and they kept his Tentyrian nature a
secret, afraid they would be targeted by those seeking to destroy
what Darrius was. Darrius ultimately became a great warrior
fighting the Romans. However, he was later beheaded in his sleep by
an unknown assailant. Before he died, Darrius turned a Catuvellauni
woman, who later became pregnant with his child. It looks like
Ammon took care of her and the daughter she had. Many generations
later, Darrius’ line and Ammon’s line separated from each other. It
is unknown what happened to Darrius’ ancestors of the Tentyrian
‘blood drinkers,’ as the author calls us . . .”

“I can’t believe we’ve found this book!” I
remark in awe. “Does it say anything about what happened to the
other Luminary children?”

“Unfortunately, no. The three boats went off
in different directions,” says Maximos.

“Three boats? But I thought there would be
four? There are supposed to be four Luminaries, right?”

“Yes, but Narcissa never had a child. Phoebe
had two children, though, who were twins. They were newborn at the
time, and they both should have escaped together with their
Guardian, Tale, in one boat.”

“What were the twins’ names?”

“They didn’t have any. Tentyrians don’t name
their children until around age two, when their personalities start
to show. For example, all of the Luminary names—Daria, Phoebe,
Calypso, and Narcissa—coincided with their powers or personalities.
Daria means “upholder of the good,” Phoebe means “bright,” Calypso
means “hidden,” and Narcissa was named after the narcissus plant
known for its healing sedative. Can you see how those names connect
to how I’ve described the Luminaries and their abilities?”

“Yes . . . so what does Maximos mean?”
“Greatest.”

“Fitting,” I say honestly.

“Do you know what your name means?” he asks,
clearly trying to change the subject.

“It’s Italian for ‘very holy.’ My mother said
that when I was born I looked like an angel. Imagine her dismay
when I got older.”

“I think you are an angel—most of the time,”
Maximos says with a smile but then finishes quickly by saying we
should head back and dress for dinner. This time he shifts us back,
leaving me to reflect on another missed opportunity for us to tell
each other how we feel.

2010 AD, September New York City, New
York

St. Regis Hotel

Tonight I want to wear something special. Not
only to look beautiful for Maximos but also for myself. These days
I feel like all I’ve been wearing are spandex and
sneakers—items

Shashandra took the liberty of stocking in my
closet, contrary to my protests. At least I finally have some
practical shoes. The Brothers could care less if I was wearing yoga
pants or Dior. But tonight I care. So when I saw the rose-colored
silk tulle ball gown with the sweetheart neckline and ribbon detail
that tied around the waist, I couldn’t resist. I also couldn’t
resist the matching heels. The price tags were outrageous, but then
so was having to save the world. I’m allowed to indulge.

I decide to wear my hair back in a low knot
with hair wrapped around at its base. It’s simple, but tonight it’s
all about the dress . . . and Maximos. I’m so excited to show him;
I realize it’s now my first instinct to share everything with him.
I’ve never really cared about anyone else’s opinion, except for
Raad’s and Laura’s. And in their absence, Maximos has become my
sounding board. Speaking of which, I can hear Maximos on the other
side of his door as I walk down the hall toward it. It sounds like
he is pacing. But before I can knock, the door swings open.

“You’re here,” he says, surprised. “I was
going to come get you.” I swallow instinctively. Maximos is wearing
a black tux that makes the ebony of his hair look even richer and
brings a Great Gatsby elegance to his warrior’s frame. Looking at
him now, you’d never suspect he was more comfortable in his
soldier’s fatigues. He is stunning, and the way his brilliant blue
eyes are looking at me, I find I’m having a difficult time forming
a coherent thought, much less a sentence.

“I hope that’s okay. I figured you’d be
ready, and since I was ready, I thought I’d come get you. Maybe we
can go get a drink?” I say awkwardly.

“Excellent idea. We should be relaxing,
right? I almost feel like we’ve left the kids at home,” Maximos
replies.

“It does feel that way, doesn’t it?” I agree.
I come into the room, and there is a pause as I see Maximos
studying me.

“Before we go downstairs, I have to tell
you—you look beautiful. I think ‘ethereal’ is the right word.” I
can feel my blush creeping up my exposed neck.

“Well you clean up quite well yourself. No
doubt I’m going to have to fend off the women more than usual
tonight.”

“Trust me, no one is going to be looking at
me,” he says. Maximos then clears his throat. “I know you told me
not to give you gifts, except for birthdays and Christmas, and that
you prefer to buy things yourself—as evidenced by the fact you cut
up the credit card I gave you. But I wanted tonight to be special.
So I got you something. If you don’t like it, I can take them back
. . .” He reaches into his travel suitcase and pulls out a blue
velvet box, which he then hands to me. I’m not sure what to say, so
instead I just open it. There are pearl drop earrings inside that
dangle from what must be six carats of diamonds. The creamy color
of the pearl is breathtaking, and the diamonds are flaw- less,
literally.

“Oh my,” I say breathlessly.

“Do you like them?” he asks nervously.

“Maximos, how could I not? They are amazing .
. . You really shouldn’t have.”

“Think of it as a welcome gift to the
Brotherhood.”

“I love them. Thank you!” I say as I put them
in my ears and give him a spin to give the full effect. Normally, I
would never accept something like this. But it was given with such
good will—how could I not? Not to mention they are absolutely
gorgeous.

Maximos holds out his arm for me to take.
“Shall we?”

“Yes.”

In the elevators, I give him a kiss on the
cheek. My lips remain longer than they should—savoring the heat of
his skin. The doors open, and we make our way to the ballroom. As
we head inside the room that looks like something out of
Versailles, awash in a pink glow from the uplighting, my heart
practically stops.

“Maximos, I’ve been here before,” I say as I
halt our procession to the head table. This is a piece of the
puzzle that’s made me anxious for weeks. I told the Brothers about
my premonitions, but we, or at least they, assumed they were
fulfilled. Maximos survived the explosion, and we were able to save
Laura. But if I’m at the same party that was in my dream—then
Stavros and the Dark Coven could be here.

“I dreamed this, Maximos. I think the Dark
Coven is here.” He places a reassuring hand on my waist.

“The Brotherhood is watching. We’ll be ready.
But I want you to stay close to me in case we need to shift out,”
says Maximos.

“I will,” I agree as I eye some of the
Brothers who have blended into the crowd in their formalwear. To
the undiscerning, they look like guests, but I could point them out
in a heartbeat. Maximos hands me a glass of champagne. I’m relieved
it isn’t the color of blood. Normally, just thinking of the
delicious liquid makes my gums prick; in this instance, I feel
nauseous imagining the blood-filled drinks of my vision.

Maximos and I find our seats along with the
other guests, several of which Maximos introduces me to. I love the
way he finds a way to put his hand on my waist protectively with
every introduction. It’s a shame this night, which is all about
good works, could potentially be overshadowed by evil.

The orchestra has kicked up the music, and
the first course is served. Maximos and I drank our fill several
hours earlier, but we both pick lightly at the foie gras “au
torchon” with pickled vegetables and brioche. Eating is the
furthest thing from my mind.

The sound of a fork on crystal chimes, and
the murmurs in the room grow quiet. One of the managing partners of
Leo Capital, Robert Murdock, makes his way to the podium to
introduce Maximos. Since unofficially becoming part of the
Brotherhood, I obviously didn’t end up taking the job with Leo.
Instead, I’ve spent my time training and helping track down the
Dark Coven and other possible Luminaries. But finding them is like
a needle in a haystack—there are only so many news databases and
contacts we have.