Dawn of a Dark Knight (9 page)

“Of course, sir.”

Terek slammed the phone into its cradle and picked up the cell vibrating along his desk. “What have you found out, Mahmud?”

“Markus Langford is on his way to New York to get the amulet tomorrow. But he wasn’t ready to arrange a meet with us to buy it.”

“Maybe this would go better if I was there.”

“I can handle it, sir. I swear.”

“Your handling of the last deal didn’t engender much confidence. Two bungled assassinations is disappointing. I’ll give you two days on this. Don’t disappoint me again. Phone when you reach New York.”

Terek’s desk chair creaked as he leaned back. Staring out past the office window, he watched the Spanish moss dangling from the ancient trees swaying in the rain—classic Savannah. He was pleased with his decision to relocate here.

At first he thought relocating his group of mostly Arabs to the deep South would be a bad idea. But the locals loved it. Well, they had done a shitload of PR about the benign, holistic nature of their beliefs. Throw a spell to resolve a few heartbreaks. Heal a few minor illnesses and then you’re a fucking saint. The locals were almost too accepting of the occult, as if they wanted to be the high-ground New Orleans. Too bad they couldn’t move back there.

It didn’t hurt to own the local and state government. He was working on federal. There was always someone who needed a dirty little secret to go away.

His cell phone began to vibrate again. He smiled at the caller ID. How opportune.

“Senator Fulford. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Uh, yeah. Terek, I need a favor. I’m willing to pay.”

“Of course you are. How can I help you?”

“I’ve got a person…well, a mistress, that I need to disappear. I also want you to punish the guy who seduced my daughter and made her break off her engagement.”

“Two jobs. That’s a bit of work. Is the woman high profile, senator?”

Fulford clear his throat. “Yes.”

“Tricky, then, would you say? And what about the man you would like taken care of?”

“I don’t know much about him other than I have a security camera image.”

“So, he’s low profile, then.”

“How much do you want?”

“A quarter million and you get the FBI out of my backyard.”

“That seems steep.”

“Then perhaps you can take care of your own problems.”

“Uh, no. Fine. I’ll have the details and money delivered to you today.”

“Very well.” He ended the call.

Terek pushed the page button on his desk phone. “Kiersted, get Theo access to surveillance video at Baltimore Regional Hospital. Call Bill at the NSA to get this for you. You can send in Miss Brooks now.”

A minute later, a perfectly manicured, middle-aged brunette woman greeted in a leisurely southern drawl, “Mr. Nadir, how are you this morning?”

“Please have a seat, Natalie.” He waved at a chair near his desk.

She tossed her thick hair over a bony shoulder as she sat, and threw him a pouty smile.

“Will you join me for tea?” he asked as he poured tea into two delicate bone china cups, added some milk, stirred, and nudged one in her direction.

She took a tentative sip and pursed her lips, likely in reaction to the bitterness of the brew.

“How long have you worked for us, Natalie?” He made a pretense of consulting a sheet of paper on his desk. “Ah yes, you’ve been on the custodial staff for one month.”

She took another sip of the tea. Her eyes darted nervously about the office.

“I’m afraid I must impart some sad news to you.” He paused for effect. “There is no way to sugarcoat this. Your boyfriend died earlier today. James, wasn’t it?” He watched an array of emotions cross her face.

“What?”

“He had some interesting revelations right before he fled to the afterworld.” He allowed silence to enshroud Natalie in discomfort.

Unable to tolerate it longer than a few seconds she blurted out, “What are you talking about?” A few pearls of sweat beaded between her eyebrows.

“I suppose I should call you Special Agent Brooks.”

She swallowed apprehensively, but didn’t answer.

“Is the FBI looking for something in particular with regard to our organization?” Terek stood, using his height to intimidate.

Natalie stared at his eyes in horror.

He smiled coldly, knowing his eyes had gone completely black. The whites were no more. Before she could flee, he rounded the desk and placed a hand on her forehead. He chanted rhythmic words that would seem gibberish to her.

A pain gasp filled the air between them as her body was squeezed. Her skin broke out in a red rash as blood vessels exploded. A thin trickle of blood spouted from her ski slope nose.

Waves of pain and terror infused him with the anticipated enhanced strength. His short-leashed self-control tempted him to take the kill.

The suppression ten minutes ago meant he could hold out. She would die, but her death had purpose. An excited shiver gripped his stomach. In a calm tone belying his pleasure, he said, “I’ll ask you once more. What were you searching for?”

She whispered, “We watch all groups that look like Arab extremists. They wanted info on illegal or terrorist activity.”

“Did you find anything?” A horned desert viper slithered from his sleeve and wrapped the last quarter of its body around her throat.

Natalie screamed until the snake’s pressure prevented sound. She struggled to escape, but was unable to remove her arm from his ensorcelled grasp. Her face mottled red and then purple.

“Did you discover anything?” he repeated. “Anena, not so tight.”

The snake loosened enough to allow her breath.

She choked out, “No.”

Anena mouthed her shoulder, but didn’t strike.

He laughed when she screamed again at the height of her terror.

“Are you telling me the truth?” His tone threatened more pain.

“I couldn’t find anything.” Her voice cracked and tears poured down her face.

Softly in an almost gentle tone, he asked, “Was he really your boyfriend?”

“No.” She shook her head as emphatically as possible within the snake’s grip.

He collected a small amount of her blood as it dripped from a nostril onto his fingertip. At a flick of his wrist, the snake released its hold and slithered back into his sleeve.

“Then, you won’t miss him. As you expected, you’re fired. Go.” He waved her to leave, watching her sag in relief and run toward the office door.

A giddy smile transformed his face as soon as she turned to exit.

He lifted a dagger from his desk and slashed deeply on the inside of his forearm. He mixed his blood with hers and intoned the ritual words while drawing symbols in the air with the bloodied blade.

Almost immediately, blood poured from Natalie’s nose, eyes, and mouth. She collapsed in the hallway, still openly hemorrhaging, dead before knowing she was no longer standing.

There was a hiss of crackling energy. The musty smell of sulfur filled the air. A blue, shimmering mist slowly solidified into a six and a half foot tall, humanoid daemon. Beautiful jade eyes glowed within the thick, greasy skin of its face. The being emitted a fierce otherworldly growl, stretched, and rotated with lethal stealth to evaluate Terek. The daemon immediately hit the ground in a kneel. Its dagger-sharp claws scraped the floor.

With prominent S’s, it said, “It is an honor to see you again, my liege. Thank you for releasing me. How were you able to bring me into this realm?”

“I have ways, Mitanni. In exchange for your freedom, I demand a small favor.”

The daemon warily assessed its summoner before asking, “What service do you request?”

“Go to any cathedral in New York. Destroy the magi that will attempt to remove you from this realm. I will send Dais to aid you. Once the magi are dead, you may do whatever you want with the humans.”

“And once I complete this task?”

“The world is yours, my friend. We need never see each other again. Kill, possess, torture, I don’t care.”

“How many magi?” he asked in a tone dripping with suspicion.

“Uncertain, but likely no more than two.”

“There have been rumors in the Middle Realm. Rumors of someone bringing a lot of us over. Yet, no one is staying very long. Of course our memory of each visit here is hazy, but…What are you up to?”

“Come now, Mitanni. You were a legendary warrior of incomparable skill in the days of Thutmose. This little job should be no more than child’s play to you. If you are so inclined, come back here when you’re done, and we will talk about the future.”

The daemon’s suspicious expression relaxed into an arrogant smile. “We have an accord.” Mitanni nodded and then disappeared in a cloud of mist.

Idiot.
Terek laughed softly. Mitanni had little chance of success. He was purely a diversionary tactic. The magi would likely be in New York, probably even invited into the amulet deal by the stupid Markus fellow.

The amulet would be his soon. He was so close this time. After chasing the piece his entire mortal life and then for centuries as a daemon, his patience for the hunt had long since run out.

It would grant him immortality in the Human Realm when combined with the
wesekh.
That meant he’d be virtually indestructible if confronted by magi.

However, he needed the magi healer to demonstrate how it worked. Of course she wouldn’t do so willingly, but he had no doubt that he could be very persuasive.

Chapter Seven

Eric drove like a maniac. There had to be less than two inches between her car and the bumper of the car in front of them. Had he learned to drive on a race track? He punched the accelerator and then jammed the brakes. The windshield wipers continued an annoying dry delay-wipe even though they were at least fifty miles past any hint of precipitation. He flashed the brights insistently at a sedan in the left lane. Kira’s annoyance was at the bubble-over point. She wanted to deck him. Then again, after seven hundred miles of road rage his mood was pretty sour. He might bite.

Abruptly the car careered right across three lanes of scattering traffic onto an exit ramp. He hit ninety before nose-diving to a semi-stop at the end of the off-ramp. No signal, barely a pause at the stop sign, and then they were hitting breakneck speed on a narrow state road. According to the sign a few miles ago, they were just north of Jacksonville. Thank God, this crazy ride might be close to an end.

The dash clock read almost one a.m. Baltimore to Jacksonville in eight hours. That had to be a record.

Fifteen minutes later, Eric turned toward a gate in a high stone wall. The mechanical iron gate opened just enough for four hulking guys decked out in black tactical gear to pass through. They squared off around the car in a strategic manner. Two hugged rifles. Although threatening, they weren’t magi.

The leader had looming down pat. His eyes narrowed as he strode to the driver’s side. The heat he packed flashed less than discreetly beneath his open tactical vest when he leaned toward the driver’s window.

Eric opened the window, but it stuck at the midpoint.

“Quit pushing the button. That’s as far down as it goes,” she mumbled. She hated tugging the window back to the closed position on days when she forgot it was broken. It needed to be fixed, but money was tight and it was low on her priority list.

Recognition lit the guard’s eyes.

“Good evening, sir. Go on in. Didn’t recognize the car.” The gate swung open instantly.

Eric rolled his eyes in reply. The car groaned before it lurched forward.

They S-curved a well-maintained dirt road for about a half mile. At the end of the drive sat an ostentatious plantation-style house in desperate need of a good power wash and four outlying smaller white Colonial-style houses. Landscape lights illuminated several massive oak trees and a functional alabaster naked-woman fountain that was greenish from age.

She sensed Ashor to be in the main house and preceded Eric in that direction. She threw open the front door and froze.

Whoa.
Now these guys were definitely magi.

Four threatening, hands-down gorgeous, liberally tattooed male giants decked out in variations on black leather and testosterone glared at her. Two were pierced out the wazoo. Intimidating? Hell, yes.

A fifth magus lay on the floor cradling his rapidly swelling arm. He had a dark, short-cropped goatee and a single silver hoop in each ear. His dark hair was neatly tied at his neck. She detected the pain in his aura and was unable to stop herself from walking into the midst of the bad boy convention to examine him.

“Snake bite, hmm?” She probed gently around the swollen tissue and double set of oozing fang punctures. “Not normal venom, though.”

The magus’s gray eyes were glazed and dilated as if he was high. He slurred, “You’ve got fantastic legs, ya know.”

She shook her head and smiled, dismissing his delirium talk.

A movie-star-beautiful blond laughed. “So you’re not asexual, Ethan. Mr. Celibate can get it on.”

“Piss off, Chrisss-tian,” Ethan slurred. He carefully enunciated each word of his response. “Poison is a Hashishin special. They like to mix it up and see what might screw us up a bit. I feel drunk. Haven’t felt like this in over seventy years since I joined these guys. By the way, whatever you’re doing, don’t stop. The pain is gone. Ah, hell, that’s good.”

“Gonna pop your cherry over this one, Eth?” Christian chuckled.

“Shut up,” Ethan grumbled.

“What happened to Ethan?” Eric asked.

The most prolifically pierced magus with a jagged scar down his right cheek and a healing laceration across his shaved head answered in a thick Eastern European accent, “Viper patrol.”

Eric said, “Shit, Ethan. How’d the fucker get you? You’re better than most of us at wasting them.”

Ethan’s cheeks reddened. “Got distracted.”

“You still kill it?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Eastern European Accent demanded of Eric, “Where’s Navid?”

“V, I’m not sure now is the time—”

“Where the hell is he?”

“Eric!” A very pregnant woman with flaming red hair launched herself at him.

The force of her impact threw Eric against the banister. He enfolded her in his arms and buried his face in her neck. “Julie,” he whispered.