The Ancient Breed (39 page)

Suddenly, the dark apartment grew black, and not even her evolved vision could penetrate it. The strange darkness washed over her, and her primal hunger vanished. Mindy collapsed on the filthy, threadbare carpet. The impenetrable mass seized control of her savage mind and released instructions into it. It then demanded to know if she fully understood the commands.

“Yes,” she droned.

Mindy awoke just before dawn. Her back and shoulders ached from spending the night on the hard floor, but what puzzled her was that she had no idea how she had gotten there. Her memory held no recollections of last night’s events. She noticed that her lips were painfully chapped, and again, she wondered why. When she entered the claustrophobic bathroom, she groggily searched her face for answers, but nothing other than a single name popped into her thoughts:
Neo Doss
.

Now who the hell was he?

Lurdene Walken straddled her trick and pumped his meager sausage for all she was worth. Exercise kept the horrible thoughts at bay. Sweat stung her eyes and dripped onto his chest, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy straining and grunting like a hog before slaughter, his overworked heart flushing his chubby face a deep crimson. His hairy body glistened in the candlelight inside her “rumpus room,” and his beer gut rolled from side-to-side as he slammed his undersized cock into her. He had a firm grip on her breasts as their bodies slapped together; and while he was filled with ecstasy, she was numb from boredom.

Her thoughts drifted to her persistent impulse to kill Janet Staley and reclaim her position as head whore of the block. After all, Lurdene thought, she had her looks back. Her body was rock-hard beneath that silky flesh, and the sag was absent from her breasts.

Tonight would be the night, she decided. As soon as she finished with this long-time customer and his beer-keg gut, she would seek out Janet in her own room and do the deed. Lurdene realized that killing Janet was insane to say the least, but the killer urge tormented her mind night and day. She no longer attempted to isolate the origin of her frightening obsession; it just needed to be put to rest.

He came with a flurry of groans and squeals, and then his body quickly collapsed like a flaccid bladder. His chest rose and fell like a blacksmith’s bellows, and Lurdene feared he would have a heart attack in her bed. She rolled off him, and after a few minutes, he slid his considerable girth off the bed, pealed off his condom, and flashed her a wide grin. His pants and shirt stuck to his damp skin as he struggled to dress. Lurdene slipped into the bathroom to cleanse her body of his disgusting body odor.

“You still got it, Lurdene,” he complimented her.

You never had it
, she wanted to retort, but instead replied, “Back atcha, hon. Yar the man.”

“I put a little something extra on the table for you,” he said magnanimously. “You were extra special tonight.”

She appeared in the bathroom doorway. “Why, thank ya, Phil. I surely do appreciate it.”

He gave her peck on the cheek and pinched a nipple on his way out. She quickly closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She could hear Janet’s trick hollering like a banshee down the hall. She was into that kinky S&M shit, and so that was a common sound inside their mini-brothel. When the screaming stopped and her trick hit the road, Janet Staley would be a dead woman.

The primal instincts returned to Lurdene’s mind. Yes, Janet would die soon, but not before Lurdene shredded her flesh and sucked every ounce of blood from her body. After that, the rats could dine on her lifeless body inside the back-alley dumpster.

After several cigarettes, Lurdene slipped into her least favorite lightweight jumper and listened at the door for Janet’s trick to leave. No use bloodying up a good outfit that would only have to be trashed later tonight.

By the time Janet’s trick tromped down the stairs, Lurdene’s anxiety had vanished. Her eyelids blinked, and her brown eyes rolled to a glowing green.

It was killing time.

Suddenly, her bedroom lights went out, and a startled Lurdene jumped at the unexpected darkness. She swiftly became aware of another presence close by, and she cautiously searched for the intruder with her remarkable night vision. Her recently acquired senses detected a dangerous and powerful entity long before her eyes found it. She bent into a defensive crouch as a deep, rumbling growl shattered the stillness.

A formless, black cloud hovered a few feet away as if evaluating its adversary. Lurdene sensed life within the cloud and gradually backed away until she felt the wall against her back. Her eyes remained glued to the cloud, and her legs tensed into coiled springs.

In an instant, it was upon her. She thrashed and shrieked in its paralyzing grip, but there was no escaping it. It washed all thoughts and instincts from her mind and replaced them with very precise instructions. There was nothing to understand. The commands were simple and vividly etched into her brain for automatic acceptance and recollection.

When the cloud drifted from the room, Lurdene collapsed to the floor, unconscious. When she awoke the next morning, she found herself in a hospital room with IVs attached to the back of her right hand. Janet Staley called 911 after she discovered her unconscious friend on the floor, and the paramedics rushed her to the emergency room.

The doctors ran tests all night, but they couldn’t identify the cause of Lurdene’s comatose state. Finally, she awoke. After Lurdene was fully conscious for three consecutive hours, the doctor in charge pronounced her cured and released her from the hospital. Janet drove her home.

Lurdene had no lingering memories of her obsession to murder Janet. She had bigger fish to fry today. And that fish was named
Neo Doss
, and she knew just where to find him.

48

T

obias Simpkins sat at the head of the conference table and scrutinized the fourteen purebloods seated before him. They were all attending a clandestine meeting in an isolated, rural chateau overlooking St. Denis, France, just outside Paris. Tobias called the international board meeting to ascertain whether his organization’s carefully orchestrated plans for capturing the European governments was being effected without a hitch. Each pureblood reported the progress in his respective country, and after the last one had spoken, Tobias managed a spirited smile.

“I’m very pleased, fellow Klundzeans. Our meticulous preparation has minimized our errors. As you reported, more government heads will be assassinated according to our timetable, and shortly all of Europe will be in chaos. The Euro has already plunged in value against the weak dollar and Japanese Yen, adding financial panic to the mix,” Tobias emphasized. “When our chosen purebloods replace each of the assassinated government leaders, we’ll be in complete control of this continent. The United States and Great Britain will fall into our hands any day now.”

The Swiss agent raised his hand. “Will the new Aspirations cosmetic line be offered internationally?”

Tobias nodded. “The first batch is being processed for the wealthy half-breeds in the United States, so that we can quickly raise large amounts of cash for our cause,” he responded. “Within six months, the product line will be made available to the wealthy European market through one of our wholly owned, Euro subsidiaries.”

The French agent cleared his throat. “Do you have any long-range plans to distribute these products to the middle- and lower-class half-breeds?”

Tobias grinned widely. “Without letting the cat totally out of the bag, yes we do. But, it’ll be a little stronger blend of elixir and cosmetics.”

There was quiet laughter from the agents.

“Strong enough to alter the bastards?” the German agent asked.

“That would be our goal, yes,” Tobias answered coyly. “Let’s just say that modern man may regress into the ancient breed, and leave it at that.”

His comment was met with enthusiastic applause and an excited buzz. Tobias was about to give the group their final instructions when a knock sounded on the door. Tobias strode to the door and pulled it open. A curvaceous brunette stood apologetically outside, gripping a satellite phone.

“Sorry to bother you, sir. You have an emergency call from Mr. McGrath,” she advised him.

He excused himself from the meeting and closed the door as the young woman retreated to her office down the hall.

He was visibly irritated by the interruption. “Yes, what is it, Sloan?” he snapped.

“We’ve got a major problem here, and I need you to return to New York immediately,” Sloan burst out excitedly.

Tobias scowled. He despised everything about the excitable Sloan McGrath. Knowing McGrath, the problem was no more important than a stopped-up toilet. “Calm down, Sloan, and tell me what the hell’s wrong.”

“It’s Grant. Some hick sheriff’s department in Ohio called here a few minutes ago to report that Grant’s been murdered.”

Tobias’s heart leaped to his throat.
Impossible!
There was no one besides himself and Sloan powerful enough to accomplish such a feat. “Obviously, it’s a case of mistaken identity,” Tobias retorted. “Grant can take care of himself.”

Sloan bristled at Tobias’s cynical attitude. “Look, the sheriff’s department faxed me photos from the crime scene, and I made a positive identification. If you don’t believe me, then you can check it out when you arrive.”

Tobias remained silent for several moments.
Who could have killed Grant? And why?
Nick Bellamy’s name shot into his thoughts.
Could Bellamy be that powerful? Bellamy’s extraordinary heritage made him an unknown factor, but if he did possess the magical powers necessary to defeat Grant McGrath, what possible reason could he have had for murdering Grant except in self-defense?
If Tobias was a betting man, he would hedge his bet by betting on someone else.

Alarm gnawed his stomach.
Could the Zyloux be the murderer?

“Was Grant’s body mutilated?” he finally asked.

“No, there was no mutilation. But, from the pictures, his body appeared badly twisted, as if he’d struggled with someone pretty damn strong.” Sloan paused. “There was one curious aspect, though.”

“Well, what is it?”

“His face was deformed . . . contorted like he’d seen something horrible when he died.”

“I’ll be right there,” Tobias said quickly, and hung up.

An hour later, Tobias barged into Sloan’s office without the courtesy of a knock, but Sloan appeared to be expecting it. He motioned Tobias to a black leather chair and handed him a slim folder containing the crime scene photographs taken by the Highland County Sheriff’s Department in Ohio.

“You decided to teleport rather than fly the friendly skies, I see,” Sloan said flatly.

Tobias grunted as he studied each photo. Finally, he glanced up, and slid one of the pictures across the desk to Sloan.

“What do see besides the body?” Tobias asked sharply.

Sloan leaned back and held the picture under his desk lamp. He rotated the picture at different angles before he sat forward and slapped the photo on his desk.

“I see a rather large hole in the floor if that’s what you’re driving at,” he commented matter-of-factly. “Other than that, I see nothing unusual except for Grant’s corpse.”

“No, no, you found it. I don’t believe it was a coincidence that his body was found next to it. It almost appears as if he was defending whatever was in there.”

“I wholeheartedly agreed, but I don’t have the faintest idea what it could have been.”

Tobias yanked the phone off its cradle and punched in a series of numbers. His call was answered on the first ring. “Hey, Simpkins here. I want you to check both of the special tanks in security storage.” He listened for a moment. “Yes, those tanks. I want the contents verified by our head chemist. Yeah, Walters is fine. I want it done yesterday. Call me at Aspirations.”

Sloan drummed his fingers atop the polished desktop. “You’re thinking that one of our stolen elixir tanks was in that Ohio warehouse?”

“Not just any fleapit,” Tobias replied, worry lining his forehead. “That warehouse is part of an old dairy plant outside Duneden.”

“Duneden—you’ve got to be joking!”

“I wish I were. I bet those damn witches are involved in this somehow, and we’ve got to find out what they’re up to real fast.”

“Okay, for argument’s sake, suppose one of our elixir tanks was down in that hole, and those witches took it, who knows what they’ll do if they discover what was inside? We’ll be the first place they’ll look for answers,” Sloan surmised. “I’m certain they’ll be concerned about the dangerous elixir’s proximity to Duneden.”

Tobias raised a hand. “Don’t waste your breath jumping to conclusions before we get the chemical analysis from Walters.”

“Who’s jumping? I’m just trying to prepare us for any and all scenarios.”

“As long as you’re speculating, slip Nick Bellamy into the equation.”

“I have. Bellamy’s chief bloodhound is scheduled to pay us a visit later tomorrow morning.”

“Which one?”

“Neo Doss.”

“Jesus! How did you find out about that?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Bellamy for weeks now. I figured it would just be a matter of time before he tracked Walkingman and the elixir theft to our front door,” Sloan replied.

Tobias’s eyes narrowed. “Grant was supposed to take care of Bellamy,” he said, and then immediately regretted it.

“Really? Then I must have been left out of the loop –
your
loop. Any particular reason?” he pressed.

“Yeah, well we thought you were too busy running the operation here to be distracted by such trivial matters,” Tobias responded coolly.

“Bellamy, trivial?” He laughed humorlessly.

“Grant had it covered.”

“I see. It appears to me that he did a pretty piss-poor job. Maybe it
was
Bellamy who murdered our late partner.”

Tobias bristled but refrained from fanning the flames he’d already ignited under Sloan. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Were you now? That’s interesting,” he declared smugly.

“What’s so interesting about it?”

“You and I rarely think the same way about anything.”

Before Tobias could react to Sloan’s unexpected arrogance, the phone rang. He snatched it off the desk and listened to Walter’s frantic report. Without uttering a word, Tobias replaced the receiver.