MORTAL COILS (107 page)

“You
have something of mine,” Sealiah said. “I want it back.”

Of
course, she meant Saliceran, a weapon that could kill Infernal and Immortal
alike. But no matter what horrors she had inside that cage, Louis would never
willingly part with the legendary blade. Did she think him a fool?

Sealiah
ran a fingernail over the carrier and made a hideous scratching noise.

The
thing inside whimpered.

“When
you left us,” Sealiah said, her face now a mask of disdain, “I took the liberty
of caring for your ‘animal.’”

She
turned the cage so the door faced him.

A
mangy, black feline hissed and spat, puffing so one could not tell where its
midnight fur ended and the shadows began.

Amberflaxus
. . . Louis’s cat.

He
smiled to hide his panic. Amberflaxus was the only thing in the universe Louis
could even remotely have called a friend. He hadn’t considered it a possibility
the animal had survived his fall to mortal-dom.

“I
thought about keeping it for myself,” Sealiah cooed. “You know how I love cats.”

The
only way Sealiah loved cats was diced, stir-fried, and with won-tons.

“Well,”
Louis tried to say nonchalantly, “you don’t want that animal. It is impossible.
Pees on everything. Scratches the furniture. Has to be let out at all hours of
the evening.”

“Just
like its master. The blade, Louis. Set it on the table and let us trade.”

She
wanted to trade straight across?

So,
the calculating Sealiah was not infallible, after all. She had no idea who the
cat actually was . . . or what it could do.

Louis
expelled a great pretended sigh.

He
made a show of looking pained as he took the sheathed blade and set it next to
the cage. One hand still on the hilt of Saliceran, he opened the door, reached
inside, and withdrew squirming Amberflaxus.

The
cat growled, clawed at his arms, and flattened its ears.

Louis
stroked the creature, and it bit his hand for his trouble.

“Yeeeees,”
Louis roughly reassured the animal, “there, there.”

Sealiah
drew Saliceran, inspected the broken blade, then resheathed it and secreted the
weapon.

“No
threats?” Louis asked. “A warning to never cross paths? Not even a casual stab
at my heart?”

“I
did not know you had one left. No, no threats or violence. We have a Board
meeting yet to attend, and a long, long dance together before our music ends.”

Louis
didn’t like the sound of that. Sealiah had plans for him. She always did. He
made a mental note to become celibate the first chance he had. Perhaps even a
eunuch.

“I
look forward to it.” He bowed to her. This time, lower and more magnificently
than before.

Amberflaxus
tried to wriggle free of Louis, but he held tight.

Her
attendant parted the rear curtain for her mistress. Sealiah and then the girl
stepped through, leaving Louis alone with his pet.

He
stroked the creature’s head and it finally calmed . . . although still clawing
at the sleeve of his tuxedo.

“Wretched
animal,” Louis said, and gave it a good shake. “Stop that. There’s much to see
to. Family business.”

The
cat stilled.

Why
did Louis even care? Part of him wanted to follow the great Satan who had
become disgusted and left the families long ago.

And
yet, were there not a few things here that still compelled him? He had once
loved, truly loved, a woman who had been his equal. She hated him now, but did
that matter? He had proven love was possible for one such as himself. Perhaps
lightning would strike twice.

And
there were also his children to consider.

He
stepped outside the gazebo. He ignored the festivities and watched the stars
brighten in the night sky over the sea.

Did
he love Fiona and Eliot? Already, he was beginning to forget how he had felt
for them as his mortal self had watched them walk to work every day. Perhaps
only as a urine-drenched waste of flesh could one appreciate such things.

Had
he not gambled their lives to capture Beal’s power? Even used his son as bait?
Were those the acts of a “loving” father?

Or
had it all been a desperate venture to stand united with his fledgling family
against terrible odds . . . and save them all?

But
did he love them? Did he even know what that word meant? Or was it just the
power that Eliot and Fiona represented that attracted him so?

Could
not both things, love and exploitation, exist side by side?

Louis
frowned and ceased petting Amberflaxus.

The
cat nudged his hand and purred.

He
might have been the Great Deceiver to the rest of the world, but Louis could
never lie to himself (perhaps his greatest failing). A choice was inevitable.
One day he would have to decide between his love for Eliot and Fiona and his
using them to rule the Infernal clans.

He
did not have to decide, though, this very second.

Louis
found a silver tray with bubbling champagne flutes. He raised a glass to toast
and wished upon his star—Venus reigning over the darkening horizon—that his son
and daughter would be happy, if for nothing else the time being.

Let
them enjoy a moment of life . . . before all hell broke loose.

81

WARRANTS

Audrey
sat in a folding chair, her family surrounding her. She had never felt more
miserable.

Not
even after parting with Louis when she had discovered he had tricked her and
his love all those months was just a game—this was a thousand times that pain.
He had been so obviously guilty. Today, though, she must condemn the innocent .
. . her own.

“I
have not taken this action lightly,” she whispered.

She
could not even look at them. This was so hard.

“As
soon as they accepted their place among us,” she told them, “Cornelius and I
researched the ancient codes—from the Genesis Tablet to the Pactum Pax
Immortalis. Our conclusion: we face annihilation.”

Audrey
hated herself for sounding so weak. It would not make her case more compelling.
With so much at stake she could not afford the luxury of self-pity.

She
finally looked up and straightened, feeling her strength return.

The
Council had reconvened inside Henry’s Gray Lotus Room.

The
unadorned concrete walls, low ceiling, and bare lightbulbs hid the location’s
sophistication. Henry had renovated and made a personal meditation chamber out
of what had once been a nuclear command center buried in the heartland of
America. Beyond were layers of counterelectronics, anti-aetherics, and tons of
rock that prevented any form of eavesdropping.

It
was the perfect location for a secret meeting to determine the fate of the
world.

The
Council sat in folding chairs in the otherwise empty room. Henry,

Kino,
Aaron, Cornelius, Gilbert, and her sisters, Lucia and Dallas, had come to
listen and judge.

“‘Annihilation,’”
Henry said, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke. “Really, I thought I was overly
dramatic at times.” He sounded hollow, though, his denial a vain attempt to
lighten the mood.

Henry
did not look well. He wore the wrinkled, three-day-old remains of his tuxedo,
and his nicotine-stained fingers trembled.

Dallas
stood from her seat and marched to a corner, folding her long arms over her
chest. “Don’t try and change the subject,” she demanded, stamping her foot. “I
can’t believe you’re doing this, Audrey. I’m your own sister!”

Dallas
looked ridiculous in her little mock-uniform minidress and green beret. Who was
she trying to impress with such attire?

“No
one thinks you’re taking this seriously,” Audrey coldly told her. “It’s nothing
personal.”

“It’s
all personal,” Dallas said, raising her voice. “I love them, and I’m going to
do whatever it takes to protect them.”

“Alas,”
Lucia whispered, “that is the trouble.” She straightened the pleats of her
business suit. “We need clear, unbiased thinking on this Council.”

Lucia
sat next to Audrey, and they presented a rare unified front. The two sisters
never agreed on anything, but even Lucia understood the gravity of this
situation . . . or perhaps it was Audrey who had finally understood.

“Let
us proceed with the vote and get this over with,” Lucia continued. “All in
favor of keeping Dallas on the ruling Council, raise your hand.”

Dallas
raised her hand, as well as Aaron.

Aaron
wore his fighting clothes: jeans, cowboy boots, and a T-shirt proclaiming viva
lucha libre.

74

“Against?”
Lucia asked.

Kino,
Lucia, Gilbert—and surprisingly even Cornelius, who steadfastly remained
neutral in all family matters—raised their hands.

“I
abstain.” Henry’s gaze dropped to the floor.

Dallas
held her head high. “This is a mistake.”

“It
has been decided,” Lucia said. “Remain and listen if you must, but refrain from
addressing the Council unless you are first recognized.”

Dallas
opened her mouth, then closed it and beamed pure hatred at her sisters.

74.
Lucha libre means “free fighting” in Spanish and refers to professional
wrestling (usually masked) within Spanish-speaking countries.—Editor.

Audrey
felt sorry for her. It was not Dallas’s fault that she felt too much. On this
particular subject, how could anyone not? Her only flaw was that she was
blinded by it.

So
much for the easily removed opposition.

Audrey
glanced at Aaron and he unflinchingly returned her gaze. The real question now
was, could the Lord of War be convinced to see past his passions? This decision
had to be unanimous.

Her
gaze darted to Kino, and he nodded, understanding.

Kino
stood, towering over all. The Keeper of the Doorways of Death inhaled deeply
and faced Aaron. “We require a strategy for this. My friend, I like not the
conclusion any more than you.” Kino’s mask of dispassion faltered. “The
children have impressed me, as well, and softened a heart I thought long
impervious to such things.”

Gilbert
set a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “But the facts cannot be ignored.”

Aaron
shrugged off Gilbert’s hand. “Facts,” he spat back. “Rules. You twist them into
the things you want.”

Cornelius
also stood. Only half as tall as Kino, this display, however, was more
dramatic. Cornelius was ever quiet, consulting his charts and timelines, almost
invisible among such overwhelming personalities. He was, though, the oldest of
them . . . and perhaps the Maker of Time was the most powerful as well.

“You
are correct,” Cornelius told Aaron. “They often do just as you say. It is
logic, however, pure and mechanical, not politics, which brings me to the same
conclusion.”