Perhaps he should have changed back earlier, shown his true self to Andrew, instead of using the vampire’s lover’s shell as a disguise. It was Dakar’s immodest opinion that in his demon form he was extremely handsome—able competition for the mortal, Tommy, any day. He still wanted Andrew, even knowing that such a union was forbidden and that he would most likely have to take the vampire by force. Not an easy task, he knew, but the rewards would be worth the struggle—and time spent with him would most likely change Andrew’s mind about fighting him. He felt a rush of heat to his groin as he imagined Andrew’s sleek and supple body under his. The thought of capturing the essence of the blood lust while they mated had kept him hard since his return to the Underworld.
Approaching Lord Kardis’ throne, he quickly dispensed with his thoughts of carnal pleasure. As he bent his knee in front of Lord Kardis he was glad he had taken the time to assume his own likeness and dress accordingly. He knew he looked good.
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“So, Dakar…” Kardis stared down his long nose at the demon that knelt before him in obeisance. All around the pillar-lined throne room inquisitive eyes watched from the shadows, eager to see Dakar’s punishment. “I sent you on a simple mission. Take out Marcus Verano. I understand you were even in the vampire’s presence, yet you failed to kill him.”
Dakar stood and struck a pose that was obeisant with just a trace of his usual arrogance.
“The vampire is powerful, Lord.”
“And you are not, it seems.”
Dakar swallowed his growl of protest. “He had his cohorts with him. Joseph Meyer, his right-hand man, who is almost as powerful. Their mind dominance is tremendously strong. I had no defence against the two of them combined.”
“I find these excuses pathetic, Dakar.” Kardis ran a hand through his thick, dark hair that hung about his shoulders while he stared at Dakar with brooding eyes.
Dakar bowed. “Lord, I ask of you one more chance to prove myself worthy in your eyes.”
“An insurmountable task, I’m afraid,” Kardis said with a sneer. “You have already proven yourself useless. Death will be your punishment.”
A hiss of approval went up from the onlookers, the sinister sound echoing through the enormous room and seeming to sear into Dakar’s brain.
“Lord,” he blurted with a recklessness that silenced the crowd. “I claim the right to challenge by Damacian’s Sword!”
Now another mixture of sounds filled the room. Derisive laughter and chuckling.
Dakar glared at the assembly. “It is my right!”
“It is your right only if I sanction it,” Kardis said, sneering yet again. “Challenge by Damacian’s Sword is granted only in very special circumstances. I see nothing special about
your
circumstances, Dakar. You were given a mission, you failed. Anything more
un-
special than that, I can’t imagine.”
More laughter greeted Kardis’ words and Dakar’s body shook with fury. “I have served you well in the past, Lord Kardis, and you would dispose of me so easily? I demand trial by Damacian’s Sword. I repeat—it is my right!”
“Very well, Dakar, if you wish it.” Kardis’ eyes took on a vicious gleam. “As you know you must defeat my champion in armed combat, and—”
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“But I am your champion, Lord Kardis,” Dakar said with a self-satisfied smirk. “I can hardly meet myself in armed combat.”
“Insolence!” Kardis all but jumped out of his throne in anger. “You thought to trick me with this devious ploy? Well, you are no longer my champion. Your failure to kill Marcus Verano deems you unworthy to be my champion. In your absence I have chosen a new man—one worthy of the title ‘Champion’.” He gestured towards the assemblage. “Step forward, Barca, and be recognised.”
From out of the crowd strode a demon so huge that Dakar had to swallow quickly in order to hide his gasp of amazement. Heavily armoured, his face hidden by a visor in the shape of a hawk’s eyes and beak, he marched towards Dakar, sword drawn.
“Sire,” Dakar blustered, “I have not had time to prepare. I am weary from the journey back to the Underworld—”
“Oh, stop whining, Dakar.” Kardis gave a wave of dismissal. “You wanted challenge by Damacian’s Sword. You’ve got it, now get on with it. Frankly, I don’t think you have much of a chance against Barca, but nevertheless, proceed.”
Dakar had no choice but to draw his own weapon as the huge demon bore down on him, sword slashing the air in front of him. The crowd now chattered with excitement, no doubt at the thought of seeing Dakar split in two. Dakar knew he had no chance against Barca in a fair fight, so he did what he had to in order to survive the duel.
Barca was still about twenty feet away when Dakar hefted his sword into a spear-like position and threw it, with all his strength, at his opponent. The sword flew straight and true, piercing Barca’s visor and penetrating his brain. The demon fell in midstride, crashing to the ground like a granite rock.
The sound of a collective gasp filled the room, followed by cries of “Coward”, “Cheat”, and other more derogatory calls until Kardis stood and held up his hands for silence. He did not look pleased with the outcome. Indeed, he looked as if he was about to spit on Barca’s corpse.
“Dakar has won, although I cannot add, ‘fair and square’. Nevertheless, he is the winner and as such will be granted the chance to redeem himself.” He ignored the mutterings of disgust from the crowd and fixed his eyes on his reprieved champion. Dakar returned his stare with studied arrogance. “Meet me in my library in one hour, Dakar. That www.total-e-bound.com
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should give you enough time to
prepare
yourself after your long journey back home.” With that he swept from the throne room followed by his retinue of soldiers and courtiers.
Well…
Dakar couldn’t quite hide his grin of satisfaction as he turned to go to his own quarters
. That went better than I thought it would. Lucky for me Barca had such a big head. Couldn’t
miss really
… Throwing a look of contempt at those who had hoped to see the end of him, he strode with an exaggerated swagger from the throne room.
High up in the Hollywood Hills, Marcus stood on the veranda of his mansion and gazed down at the lights of Los Angeles. He had known that this day would come, when the demon world would want to exact revenge for the lost opportunity of ruling the earth and all its inhabitants. The demon Pope they had set upon the throne in Rome had been destroyed by Marcus and his friends, and their plans smashed beyond repair.
He had sent a message to his friend Bernard Fournier, a vampire, who along with his lover, Pietro Dante, worked in the archives of the Vatican library.
“
Warn Constantine and Gustav that the demons have begun a bid for revenge upon us for our
part in taking down the demon Pope. Tell them to be on the lookout for anyone they do not know
trying to get near them—and Bernard, I know I do not have to say this, but safeguard yourself and
Pietro most closely
…”
Bernard would always have a special place in Marcus’ heart. They had been friends and lovers hundreds of years before Marcus had even dreamed of meeting Roger, and their bond, both mental and physical, had never weakened over the centuries. Just as his bond with Joseph was one he would defend with his life, so it was with Bernard.
He smiled as he felt two arms encircle his waist and cool lips caress his nape.
“Problems?” Roger murmured.
“Demon problems.” Marcus turned to his lover, his smile replaced with a more sombre expression. “I’m afraid we haven’t seen the last of Dakar or whatever other demon Lord Kardis might use against us. Kardis is nothing if not prideful, and the fact that we ruined his plans to rule the western world through a demon pope obviously still sticks in his craw. I have apprised Bernard of the situation.”
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“You think Kardis will try again?” Roger looked sceptical. “Doesn’t he know by now you can’t be beaten by demons? I would think after what happened here the other night, and in Rome when you took out old Pius, he’d have received the message loud and clear—
vampires, or at least
my
vampire, can’t be taken down by demons.”
Marcus smiled again. “Your belief in me is touching, but I worry sometimes that the inhabitants of the Underworld might one day seek an alliance with the Dark Forces. That would be tantamount to an all-out war—one that I will do my utmost to prevent.”
“You think it’s that serious?”
“It could be. Dakar’s honour, if he possesses such a thing, but most certainly his ego, is at stake here. My best guess is that he will want to try again. Perhaps now that he knows he cannot do it alone, he will bring reinforcements.”
“And once you beat the shit out of him again?”
Marcus chuckled. “Ah, Roger, you are so good for my self-esteem.”
“Except that it’s not misplaced.” Roger pushed himself into Marcus’ embrace. “You are the best, Marcus. There isn’t another vampire or demon or wizard, for that matter, who can put you down. Or if there is, we haven’t met him yet.”
“Still…” Marcus tightened his arms around Roger. “I don’t like what happened with Tommy and Andrew. How easy Dakar found it to take over Tommy’s body. If Andrew hadn’t been so quick to see through the ruse, who knows how much damage Dakar could have done. We all need to be alert—all of us.”
“So, how’d it go over at Lorna’s the other night?” Alex grinned at Tommy as he stowed his packed dinner in the station’s kitchen fridge. “Haven’t had a chance to ask her myself.”
“Oh, it was okay…” Tommy had already rehearsed his answer knowing Alex would be curious. “There was some old lady there who ranted on about luck and money and love—the usual kind of thing. They don’t want to tell you anything bad, so from the sounds of it I’m going to lead a charmed life.”
Alex chuckled. “So just the regular bullshit.”
“Right. ‘Course, when black smoke started pouring out of her mouth and her voice dropped a couple of octaves we all sat up and took notice.”
“What?” Alex stared at him, his brown eyes wide.
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“Just kiddin’. You’re right, it was all bullshit.”
“That’s what I thought. I don’t know why Lorna keeps getting mixed up with all that looney toon stuff. So what did you tell the boyfriend?”
“That the cards said I was the best and he better never let me go.”
“Ha! But did he believe you?”
Tommy smiled. “He said he knew that all along.”
Alex gave him the raised-eyebrow look. “So things are good with you and him? When do I get to meet him?”
Tommy thought quickly. “Uh, I have the day shift tomorrow. We can be at the Blue Moon tomorrow night if you’d like to join us.” He’d have to do some fast persuading…
Alex frowned. “I don’t get off shift ‘til ten.”
“We’ll still be there. Stop by when you get off and I’ll buy you a beer…or two.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
Arturo paced restlessly across his living room floor. He had received the message that his liege lord—as Dakar liked to be addressed—was returning. A part of him was glad, another part apprehensive. He knew Dakar had been thwarted in his attempt to bring Marcus Verano the final death, and because of that failure he, Arturo, would have to work hard to soothe Dakar’s battered ego. Not that he minded. Truth to tell, being allowed intimacy with Dakar was one reason Arturo stayed loyal to his demon lord, even though he knew Dakar only used him for pleasure when he couldn’t get what he really wanted.
He watched, a slow smile quirking his lips, as a wraith-like column of smoke appeared in the living room of his apartment. It grew dense, took on the shape of a tall figure, then Dakar stepped out of the smoke, his long blond hair streaming behind him. He was wearing a polo shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots. Arturo gasped. He had never seen Dakar so dressed down when in his own form.
“Surprised?” Dakar asked with a smirk.
Arturo’s eyes swept over Dakar’s toned chest and arms, and he licked his lips. He had always admired Dakar but had never acted on the impulses that would most likely earn him a sharp rebuke, if not exile from Dakar’s service. He had learned to wait for Dakar’s invitation.
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“You look…”
“Handsome—strikingly so. Yes, I know, Arturo, but do I look like I might fit in, in human society? Or will people look at me and say, ‘Demon’?”
“No, I can assure you, my liege, that no human, man or woman, would think that.
Devil, perhaps,” Arturo added with some humour. “A handsome devil.”
“Ah yes. The human penchant to equate their baser side with the inhabitants of the Underworld. You devil, you naughty imp, etcetera… If they only knew that imps and devils really do exist and would love to show them what delights they can bring. Perhaps I will have that opportunity even yet—with Andrew, Tommy’s vampire lover. I came so close while in Tommy’s shell, but my eagerness betrayed me, more’s the pity.”
Arturo swallowed the reply that had almost sprung to his lips. It would not do to tell his liege that he would do anything to prevent Dakar coupling with the vampire—any vampire, human or any other demon for that matter. Seeing Dakar in his present mode of dress was giving Arturo many forbidden sensations, but he could barely quell them. The way Dakar’s polo shirt was stretched across his broad chest, defining his pectoral muscles and making visible the tiny hard nipples, while the tight jeans showing Dakar’s ample bulge was enough to make Arturo salivate. But as a sub-demon he was allowed only certain privileges and making the first move was not one of them.