Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4) Page 18
“Putting them in their place.” Ingrit thrummed her fingernails over the surface of the table. “Throughout history, similar words have been uttered with disastrous results. A few world wars, if I’m not mistaken.”
Lionel scowled at Ingrit. “How many Egyptians are we talking about?”
“A handful. Five men,” Frederick said.
“And you know this how? Did they tell you this information while they were pummeling your face?” Varney laughed.
Daniel dropped from the rafters and landed on the center of the table. The men jumped back. Frederick and Ingrit didn’t move. She stared up at him with speculation and appreciation in her eyes. “I provided the information.”
“You weren’t excluded from the ass kicking. Last I saw, you were slinking away with your balls retracted.” Varney snickered.
A deep breath and Daniel quelled the urge to plant his boot in the man’s face. Luckily, poor impulse control had never been his problem. Plus, he needed the guy, needed all of them if he was going to walk into RockGate, kill Roman, and seize everything. And possibly save his hide. An ache settled in his chest and he’d swear cold fingers closed around his soul. He couldn’t resist the pull of the Summoning much longer.
Daniel shook the sensation away and sat in the vacant chair at the end of the table, opposite to Frederick. “I was a member of the family, one of their own. I know everything.”
“You betray your own kind and expect us to trust you?” Cyrus, a descendant of Zeus, growled in contempt.
“Do you have any siblings?”
Cyrus nodded. “Three bastard brothers and two bitches for sisters. But I am the one who speaks for Declan, the leader of the Greek Pantheon. A prior commitment kept him away.”
“Then you understand my motivation. I haven’t betrayed the Egyptians. I’ve betrayed my brothers.”
Cyrus sighed in understanding. “I see your point, except by striking them down, will you not anger their sires? These Egyptians are strong.”
Frederick rapped his knuckles on the table, bringing the attention back to him. “When was the last time any of us received a visit from any full member of our respective pantheons? Our bloodlines are so diluted they no longer care about any of us. Ingrit, what generation are you?” He pointed to the Valkyrie.
“Fifteenth.” Her nostrils flared in anger. “Aren’t you a twentieth generation removed from your descendant’s sire, Freddy?”
“Pretty much the same goes for the rest of us,” Cyrus answered.
“What generation are you, Egyptian?” Varney side-eyed Daniel.
Should he explain his complicated genealogy? “We’re here to discuss a treaty, not bloodlines.” Was his answer to the question.
“Besides the testosterone rush, I need another reason to commit my forces to this adventure.” Ingrit sighed.
As leader of the Valkyries, Daniel needed her forces as a suitable distraction for him to capture Reign and fulfill his debt to Anubis. He doubted any of these fools would survive. He pulled the Harvester from a special holster under his arm and gently placed it on the table in front of him.
Ingrit purred. “Pretty.”
“It’s more than pretty. It’s an anu’Ra. It has the power to steal your soul and turn your prey into a hybrid monster and your slave. There are more of these anu’Ra’s in RockGate, along with Egyptian weaponry. You’ve seen the swords they wielded. Kill them and they are yours.”
“Trophies! I would like one of those swords. When do we attack?” Cyrus rubbed his hands together.
“This is not about trinkets. This is about leadership. About law and order. Centuries ago, the pantheons were culled to the bone. We fed on each other like beasts in the field, and we all suffered. Our numbers have finally rebounded and we are on the brink of another bloodbath. Tensions are rising, lines are being drawn over territory. If we don’t do something now, it will happen again.” Frederick stated with a politician’s eloquence.
The silence in the room spoke to the truth of Frederick’s statement. Daniel rose from his seat and stood beside Frederick. When the time came to pledge fealty, it would be to both of them.
“What do you propose?” Ingrit drummed her fingernails against the table.
Daniel smirked. Frederick had his opening. “The Divine Council.”
Daniel studied each of their startled expressions.
“That council didn’t work the last time,” Cyrus shook his head.
“It will work this time.” Frederick’s confidence was almost contagious.
“Because we have learned from our past mistakes?” Ingrit laughed, an infectious sound that made Daniel want to join in. “You have my vote, Freddy. As long as I’m second in command.” Her eyes were diamond hard, certain of her victory.
Daniel almost transformed and ripped her throat out. That position was his until he killed Frederick and assumed the role of leader.
“How do you know he will be leader?” The blond guy asked.
“You don’t think he would call the meeting, throw out a game changer like the Divine Council, and nominate someone else to lead, do you?” Ingrit tsked.
Frederick slammed his hands on the table. “This has to be a unanimous decision. That is the only way we will bring all the factions across the country together and quell any dissent.”
A murmur circled the room, then silence. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. This plan of Frederick’s might work.
Lionel pushed back from the table and stood. “I want no part of this. Count me and my faction out.”
Daniel watched Lionel stride toward the exit and waited for one of his new allies to stop him. The man had too much information to leave this room and not be on their side. The Harvester didn’t work on demis or full gods. So Daniel palmed the blade he’d kept from EJ’s woman and tossed it. The blade cartwheeled over the distance and embedded between Lionel’s shoulder blades.
Daniel planned to stop Lionel, give him time to reconsider.
Lionel collapsed onto the dance floor. A gurgle, a full-bodied spasm, and the man splintered into fragments and disintegrated into fine ash. Well, hot damn! I need a couple more of these.
Daniel retrieved the blade and slipped the weapon into the inside breast pocket of his coat. He resumed his seat, accepted the scrutiny of the demis around the table, and waited to see who would balk at the violence.
And who wanted to dirty their manicured hands.
“This will take time to implement. Perhaps a month or more.” Frederick rubbed his chin.
Nods traveled from one person to the other. The decision had been made.
“And in that time, the Egyptians will think they’re invulnerable.” Daniel leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“So we start the council with bloodshed?” Ingrit scanned the room.
“Baptism by blood. Can you think of a better way to show our determination, our strength?” Tattooed guy fisted his palm.
“And punish those who humiliated you.” Ingrit mocked.
Daniel had enough. “Have I told you how wealthy the Nicolises are?”
The greed on all their faces sealed the deal.
Chapter Twenty-Six
EJ slowed his Harley one hundred feet from the lone building at the back of the industrial park. To the human eyes, the place seemed deserted. EJ wasn’t fooled. A protection spell shrouded the entire area like a shimmering lake, the same kind over the previous club he’d visited with Ridley. He twisted the throttle, revving the bike, and drove through the barrier.
Heavy bass throbbed like an artery, and judging by the muscle cars and Hogs filling the parking lot, the club catered to a rough clientele. His type of crowd. This was the address Quin texted him, the possible locale of another God club. Nothing possible about it. Frederick and another man were listed as owners of the building. Same guy who owned the club where EJ and Daniel had their little tête-à-tête.
Their soiree.
EJ imagined both of them decked out in apricot tulle dresses.
Well, not him. Just that pussy Daniel. The list of reasons why the bastard needed to die kept growing.
The text from Quin came at the perfect time, though EJ hadn’t thought that way at the moment. On the ride over, he’d talked himself out of believing he’d nearly changed Ridley’s mind a few hours ago and got her to go with him. Now, he was grateful for the distraction. Breaking the shit out of something would definitely lessen the sting of rejection. Yeah, she was tempted by him, but not enough to sway her resolve. Not enough to alter her course. He needed more time. Or rather, he needed to give her time by breaking her curse.
He parked and assessed the bouncers guarding the door. Two regular guys. Had some weight on them. Looked like they could take and throw a punch. Their open coats indicated they were armed. They eyed him as he approached, sized him up. He could almost read their minds: Is he armed? Yep on that account. Should we disarm him? Not if they wanted to continue breathing.
They stepped out of the way and gave him a wide berth. Easiest infiltration ever.
The place had a good crowd, lots of gyrating bodies, scantily clad women, tatted up dudes in wife beaters and leathers. The perfume, sweat, musk, and weed gathered in a dense cloud of sensory overload.
Ah, club life!
He lived it. Breathed it. Wallowed in the decadence. A blond beauty sidled up to him, gave him a full body rub. She was soooo his type; voluptuous, nice store-bought rack, shellacked makeup, pouty lips, and vacant stare.
He should be hard right now and making lewd suggestions in her ear, swapping spittle, and leading her to a dark corner. All he could think about were a pair of amethyst eyes, platinum pixie hair, and a sweet body decked out in red.
“Not interested, sweetie.” He moved to the rear for a drink at the bar. “Tequila. Top shelf.”
He swore there must be some Tex-Mex in him the way he loved the drink, while Avery preferred vodka.
He shoved thoughts of his brother away and concentrated on the crowd.
God club, huh? If this was a god club, then where the fuck were they?
He remembered the crowd at Frederick’s club. There, each faction seemed to have a color, a style all their own, much like walking into a high school cafeteria: Jocks in one corner wearing a muscle shirt and sweat. The popular girls close by eyeing the sweaty muscle shirts. The geeks studying in a corner next to the gamers with their thumbs moving too fast to see, while the goths hung outside, smoking. Though he couldn’t name the pantheons, similar happenings were going on here.
His palm itched for a weapon. No, a blade. He reached for one hidden in a sleeve on his thigh, gripped the handle and stopped. One of his favorite blades, why did it feel alien? EJ studied his palm, the same palm that clutched the Harvester. His senses pricked, and his gaze switched from introspection to surveillance mode. Danger approached. Familiar yet exponentially different.
What the—Shit on a cracker!
“God. Damn. Quin.” The tricky bastard’s text hadn’t bothered to mention Avery would be tagging along with Roman and Reign. Then again, EJ hadn’t asked after Quin called him a dickhead and threatened to delete all his high scores from his PlayStation and Xbox games if he didn’t show up tonight.
By the surprise on Avery’s mug, he didn’t expect the family reunion either. He weaved through the crowd with Roman and Reign trailing him. Avery shoved the guy sitting next to EJ off the barstool and signaled the bartender. “Double vodka, neat.” Then he whipped around and faced Roman. “Is this a real mission or a social call, ’cause I’m not in a party mood.”
Stone-faced, Roman said, “The only reason you two are here is because we needed you both.”
“We?” EJ snapped.
“The family,” Roman said.
“Fuck the family. I’m outta here.” EJ pushed away from the bar only to have Roman block him.
“Are you turning your back on us?” Roman whispered close to EJ’s ear. “On me? When we need you?”
Guilt? That was his strategy? “So you need the follower, the lackey who does the heavy lifting without a question?”
Avery downed his drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar. “Yep. That’s exactly who we need, without the sarcasm.”
They were in each other faces, noses a breath away, breathing in each other’s alcoholic vapors. Ink swirled over Avery’s skin. Some of the symbols—damn—he understood them. Sacrament. Extoll. Command. Those words seemed to leap out at him. EJ blinked hard and gave himself a mental slap. Just what he needed, another dose of weirdness in his life.
Avery was still in EJ’s grill, close enough to steal oxygen from his lungs. Back down? EJ had done it so many times to keep the brotherly love flowing. Not. Today. “Seen a dermatologist about that rash yet?”
Avery’s lips peeled back from his teeth.
“Gentleman, welcome to my establishment.”
Everyone pivoted to greet the newcomer. “Who the hell are you?” Avery stepped in front of EJ.
It took everything for EJ not to push Avery out of his way, but he had been trained well. Never show dissent in front of an enemy. Seemed family did come first.
“I’m Crogan, owner of this establishment. This isn’t the place for a private conversation. Follow me, gentleman.” He strode away.
None of them moved.
Crogan pivoted with a sneer on his face. “You came here with questions. I have answers.”
This time they followed him through a narrow hallway. Steel doors lined the walls. Crogan stopped at the last one facing them. He pressed a few keys on the security pad and the door opened. Crogan led the way inside a spacious office, well-appointed in black and burgundy tones, decorated with Asian art. A large ornate mirror covered the back wall. Two-way? EJ wondered.
“Have a seat, make yourselves comfortable.” Crogan took his seat behind a black lacquered desk. No one else joined him. He steepled his fingers and stared at them. “I’m trying to be hospitable here.”
“Answers. You said you have them,” Avery prompted.
Crogan waved at him to continue. “Ask your questions.”
Roman took the seat directly opposite him. He sat back. To the casual observer, he was relaxed as could be. Like a recently fed crocodile with his eyes bobbing on the surface. Avery stood next to Roman, while Reign moved off to the right side of the room.
EJ took the left. He didn’t like this. Why give up your advantage and lock yourself in a room with four of your enemies? With no bodyguards? An adversary only did that if he had the advantage. EJ smelled a trap and suspected the rest of his family was too souped up on their new superhero power to notice. Good way to get your ass snuffed. Leave it to the lowly human to save the day.
He studied the room and spotted a camera secreted in the crystals of the chandelier hanging overhead and another peeking out of the slats in an air vent. He yanked the camera on the chandelier free first. So, not a conventional trap, but an electronic one. Quin would be proud of him. His ‘hacking skills’ earned a glare from Crogan and a nod from Roman. EJ moved to the vent and then to the shelving filled with knick-knacks, all the while, listening to the conversation.
Roman started the meeting. “How many of you are there?”
“Depends on the pantheons. There are Norse, Mayan, Aztec, Celtic, a few Armenian, though they understandably keep to themselves. Sumerian—those bastards are seriously anti-social. They have their own club, own society. They do not mix. There’s a host of small African pantheons, they tend to group themselves together under one banner. Of course, you have the Greeks, the Romans, and… the Egyptians.”
EJ didn’t like how the last name lingered on Crogan’s tongue. “How long have you been here?”
Crogan glanced at him. “Decades. Other clubs have been established for over a century.”
“How. Many. Clubs?” Avery’s Ink peeked over the collar of his coat.
“A few in the tri-state area. One in Atlanta. Two in California—Los Angeles and Sacramento. One in Chicago. One in Miami.”
“What is your association with these facilities?” Roman hadn’t moved a muscle from his position.
“All are independently owned … except for three in the tri-state area. Those are owned by the same person. Frederick Tanis. He also has a significant interest in the clubs in Atlanta, Los Angeles, and Chicago. For a minor god, he wields a lot of power.”
Roman asked, “How did he gain this power?”
In other words, how the fuck did he slip under our radar? EJ tried to not to fidget, but standing still was never his strong suit.
“Frederick is a descendant of the Goddess of Persuasion. He keeps that secret close to his vest.”
Avery nodded. “Not many would appreciate being manipulated.”
“Plus he’s charismatic. A born leader of men.” Crogan scoffed.
“So why do you betray him?” Roman’s eyes narrowed.
Crogan’s features hardened, though his lips did curl a fraction.
A woman? Money? Maybe both. Or a coup? EJ couldn’t help speculating.
“I’m a businessman. Don’t assume you are the only pantheon I’m imparting this information to. I’m helping all of the underdogs.”
“Underdogs?” Avery snarled, and his Ink did a slow crawl over his features.
Crogan’s eyes went a little wide before he hid his surprise under a genial mask. “Yes. Underdogs. Anytime you enter an arena without knowing who the combatants are, you are the underdog.”
Reign stepped forward. “What arena have we entered?”
Crogan laughed. “Ah, the lost twin speaks. I was starting to wonder if you could.”
In the mirror, EJ saw neon consume Reign’s blue eyes, yet Reign didn’t move a muscle.
“Now you all are wondering what I know or don’t know. I know a lot. I know enough.” He chuckled, a dry, grating sound. “More than you.”
“Why are you flirting with us? We didn’t come here for a dry hump.” Roman crossed his arms.
“Or to be groped and left with a stiff dick,” Avery added.