Authors: Devin Morgan
Aris Reigns (11 page)
Subdued by his Sovereign's fury, Ricardo stared at the floor as he spoke. “We have all been doing our duty. We are an army of less than one thousand. You ask us to travel to London unseen and attack the fortress of the Catacombs. You have well versed us on the lay of the land beneath the ground, yet we will be fighting on their turf. That is their first advantage. Their numbers are greater than ours. Our spies in London have reported their numbers have been increasing steadily as more and more Immortals arrive to join their forces. We need all of our people.” His voice was just above a whisper as he said, “We need Esteban.”
“Esteban? That traitor? I saved him from execution after he murdered his lover and how does he repay me? With treachery. Never. Now, get out of here and get to work.” He turned his back
as his four captains rose and left the room. Silently he stood by the window gazing over the forest that surrounded the castle. His thoughts returned to Sarah. He vowed to defeat the Immortals without Mariska, to kill Aris and to take Sarah for his own.
“I
want to make sure I call Colleen while we're above ground.” Aris and Sarah hurried down the street toward the gallery showing his latest artwork.
“Would you like to stop now to phone her?” Aris looked around as he spoke, always concerned for her safety when she was above ground. She was fully confident he could protect her, but he was not as sure. He would fight to extinction if need be, yet how many of DeMarco's men could he defeat if set upon in numbers?
“No, I'll take a break from the show to call. We have to rush or we'll be late and the artist should never arrive after his patrons.” He smiled at her words.
It was Aris' second art show at the London gallery and Reginald told him earlier in the day Beatrix Sloan, one of the most prominent agents in London, had decided to speak with him about representing him in the London art world. It was a decision that could not be easily made. Did he want to continue as a human? Or did he want to return to the cloistered world of the Catacombs? And what was to become of Sarah and him.
As they entered the gallery, which was already jammed full of people, everyone turned toward them applauding. John Marshall, the gallery owner from Chicago, and the London gallery owner,
Reginald Clinton, hurried forward. Reginald shook Aris' hand and led him toward a circle of very rich looking, very interested ladies, their wealthy husbands close in tow. John Marshall took Sarah's arm, leading her toward the refreshment table. Crystal champagne glasses glistened in the light from the chandelier. He handed her a glass then excused himself as he waved to another new arrival.
Sitting in a chair in a quiet corner, she marveled at Aris' amazing artwork. She remembered his first meeting with John Marshall at her mother's house during their last Christmas dinner. When John offered to look at his work, neither of them ever imagined he would so quickly become so well known in the art world. His first show in the states sold out. His paintings of ancient kingdoms and monarchs were so alive, so warm and vibrant, he was recognized as a modern master by every critic. She smiled when she thought it was only natural since he was taught by the ancient ones. His forté was painting England and its people so it was merely a matter of course that he was welcomed with open arms by the British.
She took a sip of her champagne just as she saw a tall, sleek redhead approach the group where Aris stood. She watched, grinning broadly as he mesmerized the poor woman with his smile. Sarah knew, if he wanted it, before the night was over he would have a contract with whatever terms he requested. The question was what would be his decision? Would he choose to live above ground or would he leave her and her human life to live below. Of course, there was always the ultimate solution, become Immortal like him, be with him wherever he chose. As she watched her only true love, the answer to her quandary was becoming more and more apparent.
The cushions on the sofa in the gallery lounge were soft and comfortable. The lounge was the farthest Aris would allow Sarah
to stray from him above ground. He could still see her where she sat and he made sure she was always within his line of sight. Sarah leaned back as she dialed her best friend in Chicago on her cell phone. She heard two rings then another before Colleen answered. “Hello?”
“Hi hon, it's Sarah.”
She could hear her friend's baby cooing in the background. “I'm at the gallery for a showing and I thought I'd give you a ring.”
“You're lucky I'm up. Collette has been fussy this week and hasn't been sleeping very well.” She yawned into the phone and Sarah could hear the sound of coffee being poured on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. It was comforting.
“I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so early. I miss you and wanted to hear your voice.”
“Yeah, you miss me alright. You're over there with Mr. Wonderful and you haven't thought of us for a minute.” She laughed. “If you did, you'd be nuts. How is he? How are you for that matter?”
“We're great. He's been welcomed in an unbelievable way. I think he's going to take on an agent here.”
“Yeah? What does that mean?”
“It means he'll be in England a lot more than we anticipated.”
“What about you? What're you going to do about your clients, Sarah? And us? We miss you too. We don't want to lose you to the other side of the planet.”
“Calm down, C. You aren't going to lose me.”
“So, when are you coming home? You've already stayed longer than you thought you would and Bonnie's still holding down your fort.”
“I know. Quit trying to make me feel guilty. I'll be home in a couple of weeks. By then we'll be able to sort things out. Don't worry. I'm not deserting you.”
The baby started to fuss in the background. “Sorry hon, Collette
is about ready to blast. She hasn't had her breakfast yet and I've got to go before she starts to wail. Love you.”
“Love you, C. Talk to you soon.” There was silence on the other side of the line.
The lounge was still empty as Sarah relaxed into the sofa cushions. She was constantly astonished and in an honest state of disbelief whenever she thought about the two distinctly different worlds she inhabited.
Her life above ground. Her old friends in Chicago. The new friends she was making in the art world in London. Her business. Her home. The life she had worked so hard to build. The life that seemed to be fading into the background, becoming nothing more than a shadow of her true existence.
What was taking its place? How can you describe something completely unknown. No life. No death. Undead. Vampire. Immortal. Eternal life. Eternal love. No turning back. Eternity in a Utopian underground kingdom. A fairy tale.
Sarah's heart was racing as she imagined a future as an Immortal when two women entered the lounge laughing and chatting about the handsome genius young artist on display.
Sarah took a deep breath. Sighing, she rose from the sofa, and glanced in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her short wavy blond hair before leaving the room to join the fans of the newest (and oldest) art sensation of the decade.
As she stepped from the room she noticed an incredibly handsome tall well-dressed man lounging near the entrance to the gallery. His dark eyes followed her as she joined John Marshall and a group of people admiring one of the paintings on display.
“A
re you sure these are the latest topographical maps?” Because time mattered little, there were a few other Immortals in the Catacombs library even though it was late in the evening. Aris leaned closer to Sebastian and Richard so he didn't have to raise his voice for them to hear.
Gabriela entered the room silently, easing between the two men. She answered his question. “Yes, I checked with Henry. This is the latest satellite map. You see the pinpoint of the castle here, at the base of this mountain?” Leaning across the table, she pointed to a small speck at the base of the Pyrenees mountain range.
“And see here?” She traced a line drawn over a deep canyon between two massive peaks. “Mariska followed this route and camped here.” Her finger stopped moving, tapping a large flat plane at the end of the gorge. “We have spies in her camp, but because of their location between two mountains it is difficult for them to send information. Bartholomew had news just this morning there is great unrest among her troops.
“It seems Esteban takes his role as commander very seriously and is determined to build an army that can take the Catacombs; he sees himself as the new King ruling by Mariska's side. Through our contacts, we have learned a great deal more about him.
“As a man he was cruel, without scruples. He trussed and carved the woman who was his lover because he had been told by one of her enemies she might have an interest in another. He bled her to death slowly, methodically to cause her the most lingering death, the greatest physical pain.
“As a bull fighter, he gave no sport. He was without mercy. The more agony felt by the bull, the more blood covering the ground, the greater was his foul triumph.
“As a vampire, he is evil incarnate. He rules his troops with the same blind driven vengeance he ruled his human world. His warriors have progressed; there is some cohesion, some semblance of an army working together even though it is based on fear of extinction. Still, the army is made up of renegades. They run wild from time to time and swerve out of control. Esteban always regains domination and demands obedience. He then makes sure he gets it, at least for a while, by exterminating any vampire that is unruly. It only takes a few burnings for the rabble to realize the harsh consequences of insubordination, to develop a deeper hatred and fear of their new leader.
“Needless to say, these vampires have no loyalty and inflamed by their loathing of Esteban, one by one, steal away to re-join DeMarco. It is becoming evident to all save Mariska that they must rejoin the King in order to wipe out the Immortals and take the Catacombs. We still have some time but we must move forward with all haste.”
The silence was heavy as they waited for Aris to respond. His mind was flooded with visions of war and the loss of those he loved. He remembered the anguish in the aftermath of the battles in his long-ago past; he felt once again the emptiness of heartache. He feared for the Immortals and their peaceful ways, yet knew there was no way out. The responsibility for the safety of his society and his species lay directly in his hands.
His words were spoken softly. “We begin our movement to Spain
very soon. We will travel in small groups and rendezvous just outside Barcelona.”
“Getting us there will be no problem. Getting the weapons there is a whole other story.” Richard sat, motioning his companions to do the same. “Is there any plan to ship them from England to Spain? We will never pass airline security with two thousand impalers and stilettoes.”
His attention fully in the moment, Aris smiled, “My plan at the moment is to ship by couriers. Our fastest and most powerful soldiers will do a smuggling run of crates carrying our weapons over water to France and then over land to Spain. They will run through forests and on rarely travelled back roads. Immortals run faster than bullet trains and are stronger than elephants. I calculate they can transport all our weaponry in one twenty-four-hour period. They can hide the crates in the forest that surrounds the Spanish castle.”