Ghosts of Atlantis (Immortal Montero Book 3) Page 11

“You only need ask.” I loosened my tie, unbuttoned my shirt.

  She took me in her arms, pulled aside my collar, and lowered her head to my throat. Her jaw lengthened as she neared my jugular.

  When she ripped open my flesh, the sharp tear hurt worse than any gunshot or sword wound. It wasn’t just the feel of tearing flesh that hurt, although that was bad. The constriction from her mouth latching onto my neck gave me an immediate reaction of defense, and I had to fight the urge to throw her off me. I bit back a scream, squeezed her bountiful bottom, and waited for the agony to subside.

  She held me tight. Soft sounds of pleasure whistled through her nose.

  In moments, spots appeared before my eyes and the tips of my fingers fell numb. I could no longer feel Aliena at my neck. My body sagged as sensation left my legs. Strong bands tightened around me. The spots gathered together, mingling, merging, until one large ebon spot filled my vision.

  “You can tell us, Sebastian,” Marguerite said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “The truth. How there’s something different about you.”

  The two of us lay on the hard-packed earth of my family’s farmhouse, our little brother James between us. We were supposed to be sleeping, but this was one of the nights they pestered me with questions.

  “Don’t say that,” I replied, irritated. “There’s nothing different about me.”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  “You can trust us,” James said, his eyes closed. “We won’t tell anybody.”

  I kissed him on the cheek, looked up at Marguerite.

  She was an old woman, lying in bed, a tiny thing, her brown hair forming a thin halo around her head. The family had buried James many years ago.

  “Oh, it hurts,” she said, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

  “This will take away your pain,” I told her.

  I raised her head. Her eyes held mine.

  “When will I see you again, Sebastian?”

  “Very soon,” I replied, voice breaking as I tipped the cup of poison into my baby sister’s mouth . . .

  The roar of my immortal engine in my head signified my return. Painful tingling in my hands and feet indicated blood was rushing to my extremities. As my tissues re-saturated, I relaxed into the wonderful feeling of Aliena’s flesh squashed against mine.

  “Sebastian?”

  I opened my eyes, took in her fine, arched eyebrows, lustrous blonde hair, dark eyes and full lips. Her skin glowed rose, cheeks flush from her drink, the dark beauty of her features turned angelic.

  “I’m back in the world again,” I said, my voice low. “You always look even more stunning after drinking my blood.”

  She hefted my two hundred and ten pounds easily. “Are you able to stand?”

  Though needles pierced the bottoms of my feet and helium filled my head, I straightened up. The memory of our predicament flooded my consciousness, and my adoration for her seemed suddenly humiliating in the face of her indifference.

  “Yes,” I said, hoping my body would recover before I lost my balance.

  She unwound her arms slowly and took a small step back. Her hands rose and clasped my shoulders, steadying me. She stared with apparent fascination at my recovery as if she had never seen it before.

  “Thank you,” I told her.

  She lifted her hands. “You taste incredible, better than anything I’ve ever had.” She laughed giddily, her eyes traveling my face. “Your blood is thicker than a mortal’s, with the sweetest, richest flavor. I remember nothing else compares to it. And you’re also intoxicating,” she laughed. “Do the others tell you how wonderful you taste? What does Rachella say?”

  “You are the only one I’ve ever allowed to drink.”

  “But . . . you said we have known each other for nearly 150 years.”

  “That’s right.”

  She went quiet for a long moment. “I see.”

  My mind oscillated, a strobe of sensation, alternating hot and cold. As if, on a sweltering afternoon, I repeatedly opened a freezer door and slammed it shut. Hot when I thought of her puckered, frosty lips on mine. Cold when I considered a life without her.

  She stared at the floor. “The way you look at me…I’m sorry, I do not feel that way toward you.”

  The words landed like hammer blows.

  “I understand,” I said, far from understanding.

  Moving away, I shook my arms and shifted my balance, felt my body become alert and whole as new blood flooded my veins. I buttoned my shirt and tightened my tie.

  Unable to meet Aliena’s gaze, I turned to the wall. The shimmering doorway beckoned.

  If I stepped through now, I could report to Preston what was on the other side. That might make up for not allowing him to send a team to study the phenomena with more sophisticated sensors. The potential physical risk did not worry me. Darius was a vampire, therefore stronger than a human, but he was saddled with vulnerabilities I did not have. If he could travel to the other side and back, I should be able to do so as well.

  I positioned myself in front of the wavering wall, wondering again if the murderer lay beyond it. Or would I step into a jail cell? Perhaps a fiery pit?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “Sebastian? What are you doing?”

  “I want to see what’s on the other side of that.” I stepped forward. My foot disappeared into the gel. Cool squishiness began to travel up my leg. I steeled myself for the unknown when Aliena’s strong arms encircled my chest. My foot slid out of the wall as she pulled me back two paces.

  “No!” she said. “You don’t know if it’s safe.”

  I could not believe she had stopped me. Shaking, I tried to throw her off. Useless, of course. “Aliena, release me at once! What I do is none of your business.”

  “No.”

  “This is outrageous. Never did I interfere in your decisions. You have decided not to sleep in your room today. That is your prerogative. To interfere with my plans when you feel nothing for me makes it even—”

  “I did not say I felt nothing for you.”

  “Aliena, let me go.”

  “No.”

  “Investigating the other side of this door is crucial! I might discover what happened to you!”

  “That’s true, but you are distraught, and that is making you reckless.”

  “Why is that of concern to you?”

  Taking me by the shoulders, she turned me around, holding me fast by my biceps.

  “Because of the ring.” At first, I thought she meant the Apollo Ring, but realized she was referring to the engagement ring. “Marcus confirmed that I have been living with you recently. When I add my obvious acceptance of your marriage proposal...” Her brown eyes grew wide with amazement. “You must have been the most important person in history to me. If the memory of my love for you returns, I might not be able to bear your loss.”

  It was reassuring to know she held out the possibility of our reunion. She released my arms, moving between the wall and me.

  “Then you can understand why I want to know you are safe,” I said. “I still remember everything about us. Five hours ago we were together on the dance floor, discussing tonight . . . ” I could not continue with that memory.

  Aliena correctly interpreted my reason for stopping. “Do you mean to say…we were talking about making love for the first time? We had decided to make love?” She sounded awestruck.

  “Well, darling, you decided.” Our one night of sex five weeks earlier had been tangled with her release from celibacy, and the exhaustion from a crisis we had ended that day. There had been no buildup, none of the delicious anticipation created by knowing the two of you would be in each other’s arms later. On the dance floor at Bar Sinister, we had discussed what we planned to do later. The moment had been wonderfully erotic, both of us knowing we would be in bed together very soon. Tonight would have been our real first time.

  She put her hand inside her j
acket pocket. “You waited for me to make up my mind. You are a gentleman, Sebastian.”

  “You are worth the wait and more.” I had made love to many women after meeting Aliena, and she knew all about them. During our relationship, such unions didn’t bother her at all. I recognized them as attempts to escape from under her spell. Only recently had we committed ourselves to each other. I decided now was not the time to tell her about my previous dalliances.

  I had to press my arms to my sides, so badly did I want to embrace her. “Please. Stay in your room at my place today. I give you my word, no one—including I—will intrude on your privacy once you lock yourself inside.”

  “Do you intend to walk through that portal?”

  Since she ignored my request, I ignored her question. What could she do about it?

  She picked me up, carried me out of the office, down the hall, and set me on my feet next to the Ducati.

  Furious, I made a point of glancing at my watch. “You can’t stay here much longer.”

  Her lovely brow creased. “Promise me you won’t go through that wall.”

  “Why?”

  “Please?”

  “No. Darius is dead. Something is wrong with you. Traveling to the other dimension may help me figure out why all of this is happening, and who’s doing it.”

  “I know,” she said. “But we don’t have enough information. And you don’t have to go now, alone.” Her eyes beseeched. “Please wait. Any man who has waited so long for me wouldn’t lie to me. I want your word.”

  “Why does it matter so much?”

  “Because it scares me!” she wailed. “Please, please!”

  Her expression of anguished worry defeated me. I could never cause her distress. “Very well. For you. I promise not to cross the threshold yet.”

  She took me in her arms. “Thank you, oh thank you.”

  I embraced her, though not tightly. I closed my eyes, feeling her hair pressed against my cheek before she stepped back. “Since I have agreed to that,” I began, “perhaps you—”

  “I’m staying in my usual place today.”

  “Your usual place these days is with me.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry. I know that’s true, but I do not remember it.”

  I gave up trying to convince her. “May I call you after sunset?”

  “I would like that.”

  Aliena spun the fiery red Italian two-wheeler out of the garage, smoking the back tire. She shot down the driveway and tipped the Ducati on its side as she accelerated onto the blacktop. Popping a wheelie, she waved as she flashed past my car, doing her impression of Evel Knievel, riding the back tire for two blocks before slamming the front tire to the pavement at the intersection. Ignoring the red light, she slashed left onto Ventura Boulevard, shifted gears and sped out of sight.

  Her motor skills had definitely not been affected by this illness.

  I climbed into my car, rolled to the corner, and stopped behind the limit line, staring after her.

  Aliena’s illness could not be an accident. An agent had been introduced into her system. But what? Most likely it had been in the glass of blood. Which meant someone had manipulated her into drinking it. Someone in the VIP room with her. That was not much help. During the short time we had been there, at least a dozen men and women had gone up and down the stairs.

  There was also the problem of motive. Why would anyone target Aliena? Was she still in danger? As I had said at 49, if her attacker had a compelling reason for wanting her dead, that person might try again once they discovered their first attempt failed.

  And my darling fiancée had insisted on going out there alone.

  Chapter 19

  Saturday, February 14, 6:35 a.m.

  Upon arriving home, I drank five liters of water and two of orange juice, as thirsty as three dehydrated camels after Aliena’s drink.

  The sun crept into the sky. I paced the patio and chain-smoked. Twilight came at 5:52, over eleven hours away. Having lived for more than seven centuries, I had known years to pass in a blur, moving at light-speed. Once in a while, though, life moved at a glacier’s pace. This day would have eighty-nine hours in it for me, every one of them filled with foreboding at the possibility of Aliena’s death.

  Reeking of burned tobacco, I went inside and climbed the stairs to my room. I showered and changed into dark jeans and a long-sleeved white silk shirt.

  Back downstairs, I grabbed a 750 ml bottle of Casamigos tequila out of a kitchen cupboard and drained it. The dead soldier went into the recycle can.

  Sitting on the couch, I slotted the drive Spellman had entrusted to me and opened it, revealing the contents. The drive contained two documents, prosaically named “Document 1” and “Document 2.”

  I opened the first. It appeared to be a journal. The vampire acolyte had recorded his entries with dates preceding each note. The account began with New Year’s Day this year and ended two days ago.

  Jan 1 – Relieved Maximillian and guarded the ring today. His condition continues to deteriorate, and he will not be able to perform his duties much longer. I can attest he suffers great pain as a result of his prolonged exposure to the radiation. Repeated physical contact with the Apollo Ring exacerbates his condition, as we know. He has requested his death, as is his right, but so far, we have been unable to agree on a replacement for him.

  Jan 7 – Wore the ring for several hours today. I am the only one who can wear the ring with no pain, and no radiation poisoning. I spoke the first of the forbidden incantations.

  Below this, Darius had written a short phrase in Latin that translated to, “Egg of Creation.” I knew the symbol for this egg was a dot inside a thick circle. Rings seemed to fill this affair.

  I scanned down. Darius had written three more incantations, all in Latin. Why that language? Since the ring came from the other dimension, did that mean a language parallel existed between the realities? Or had Darius used Latin as a code that enemies from the other side would not know?

  I memorized the phrases. The remaining three translated to, “Artemis’s Arrow,” “Chamber of Eternity,” and finally, “Eye of Apollo.” That last I recognized as the words spoken by the head priest when he burned Carmen.

  From his comments below, I knew the first incantation activated a shield.

  I left the shield active when Maximillian returned, his head hidden in the folds of his cowl, and let the poor man bump into it. I shouldn’t tease him, he is all nerves these days! When I lowered the shield, he took the ring from me. I acted sufficiently chastised, and apologized. He is the Head Priest of the Apollo Ring, after all, and has given up his immortal life to protect and guard it.

  Jan 18 – I am more convinced than ever Morgan has found me and knows the ring is here. Told Marcus my fears last night that one of us is helping her. I didn’t tell him my suspicion of who it was. I pray I’m wrong. There is one way to discover the truth.

  Jan 24 – We found Mark burned to death in his home tonight. No one knows what happened. I saw his remains. It looked as if my fellow acolyte had been attacked by one of the Ghosts of Atlantis. I can think of only one reason for which Morgan would kill a guardian of the ring.

  Jan 25 – Another acolyte of the Apollo Ring is dead, burned to ashes. Theodore. A witness saw it happen this time. The murderer is the old witch, Carmen. Marcus has ordered her capture so that we may question her, but so far, we haven’t been able to find her, and no one knows her resting place.

  I fear she is inhabited by a ghost.

  Feb 9 – Snuck into the facility again. The ghosts did not detect my presence for nearly three minutes. Finished the Trojan. Activating the program will not be a problem. I have decided to entrust a copy of the virus to Sebastian Montero in the event I can’t plant it myself.

  Feb 12 – We have discovered Carmen’s hideaway. The Council has ordered her execution, to be carried out tomorrow night. I told Marcus my belief that Morgan is behind the murders, using the ghosts as assassins. He
had come to the same conclusion. We agreed that Carmen must be sacrificed anyway because of the entity inside her. Will I tell him about my dear girl tomorrow? I know she’s involved. I can’t protect her anymore.

  That was the final entry. With Aliena and I in attendance, they executed Carmen the following night for the murders of two vampires. Yet it appeared Spellman hadn’t believed her responsible. Since he blamed Morgan for the first two deaths, two conclusions seemed logical: that Morgan came from the other side, and that she was the one who had murdered Spellman. I wondered if he had had a chance to tell Marcus his suspicions about the unnamed woman he suspected of being Morgan’s accomplice.

  What were the Ghosts of Atlantis? If Darius believed them responsible for the burning deaths, that made these unknown entities immensely powerful. Killing an immortal being was no easy task.

  He had also thought Carmen was inhabited by one of the creatures.

  The woman Spellman feared was involved had to be a vampire, making Kristina Cha the obvious choice. But Spellman refers to her as “my dear girl.” Did that mean I was wrong about Cha being gay, or that Spellman’s relationship was with someone else?

  Unfortunately, none of this got me any closer to the most important question of all: how could I save Aliena?

  ***

  I opened Document 2, expecting I would finally get some answers to the events unfolding around me.

  The document came up on my screen. There was one sentence: “Begin here.” I glanced at the information bar. One page, two words.

  I checked the file size. It looked larger than a one-sentence file would be.

  Logic suggested a hidden message in the document. Unfortunately, I had no idea where to look. Did I need a special screen in order to see the message? No, Spellman would have told me that, I’m sure. Since he had told me nothing, the hidden writing must occupy an easy-to-discover location.

  Had he written his message in the notes of the document, then hidden them? My pulse quickened when the drop-down menu showed ‘Comments’ was unchecked. I clicked the box next to it to reveal any notes.