Vampires Don't Sparkle: Deathless Book 3 (9 page)

The servant, a middle aged Indian man nearly as wide was he was tall, began setting plates before them. There were mashed potatoes that smelled of garlic, some of the most succulent steaks Mark had ever seen, and heavenly-smelling brussels sprouts.
 

Osiris picked up a small silver remote and aimed it at the television. The image of the sparkly vampire disappeared, replaced by a top-down feed over Stonehenge. Mark recognized it immediately as belonging to one of Mohn’s satellites.
 

“Why is satellite five aimed at Stonehenge?” Mark asked. His stomach rumbled as the servant added a filet to his plate.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed. Why don’t you share your theory?” Osiris asked, picking up his utensils. He sliced a generous morsel of beef, and popped it into his mouth. His eyes never left Mark as he began to chew. The whole thing was cultured. Refined.

“You’re clearly waiting for something. Judging by the amount of attention you’re paying to this location, and by the fact that no other Ark has appeared in Europe, I’d guess you expect one to appear here.” Mark tasted the mashed potatoes, blinking in surprise. They were beyond amazing. They might have been the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Astute, as expected,” Osiris said, pausing for a mouthful of wine. “I’m not waiting for just any Ark. The one that will appear here is called The First Ark, because we believe it was the first ever created.”

Mark picked up his wine glass, taking the tiniest sip. He watched Osiris thoughtfully, but said nothing.

“Satellite five is watching for the Ark, because when it returns the war will begin.” Osiris set his wine glass down. “Every weapon Mohn Corp has at its disposal will be launched at the force that emerges. It is a confrontation we are doomed to lose, and when we lose, the demonic horde will begin scouring the world of all sentient life. I can delay it by hurling the dead at it, but that is nothing but a stalling tactic.”

Mark considered the statement very carefully. It didn’t sound like a lie. “So who is this bogeyman you expect to emerge? And why fight if you expect to lose?”

“He is my brother, an ancient just as old as I am. You’d know him as Set,” Osiris explained, cutting his steak into bite-sized morsels as he continued his explanation. “As for why I fight? Because if I do not, then this world is doomed. You think me a monster, but you’ve never seen my brother. You have no idea what he is capable of. He will devour all life from this world, leaving us naked before an even greater threat.”

“A greater threat,” Mark said, shaking his head. He heaved a sigh, setting his fork down. “You have to know you’re going to have to present some sort of evidence if you expect me to buy any of this. Right now it sounds like the plot to a Michael Bay movie. That means the plot sucks, in case you’re not familiar with Michael Bay.”

Osiris laughed, a deep belly laugh that boomed through the room. He set his wine glass down without drinking. “Yes, I definitely like you, Mark. You have spirit, which will be needed in this age. You want proof, and I will offer it. Let us start with a few questions, shall we? Have you ever wondered who built the Arks? They are impossibly old, far older than Homo Sapiens, older even than Homo Erectus or Home Ergaster. If my theories are correct, the Arks were likely built during the time of Australopithecus. Possibly even before that.”

Mark picked up his wine glass and drank deeply. Osiris’s statement rocked him to the core, because it gave voice to quiet doubts that had plagued him since Peru. Someone or something had created the Arks before the dawn of humanity, and that terrified him. Who had they been? Where had they gone?

“You’ve often wondered about Project Solaris, I’m told,” Osiris continued, a wry smile slipping into place. He took a moment to spear another piece of beef, popping it into his mouth and chewing before he continued. “I created Solaris, and it was at my direction that the Old Man kept you in the dark. I wanted you ignorant, both because I needed you focused on the Arks, and because you were not yet ready to know the truth.”

“So what is Project Solaris, then?” Mark’s appetite fled, despite the tempting aroma of steak.

“The Builders, as we call them, have returned. They’ve been experimenting on humanity, and Project Solaris is the means by which we are fighting back,” Osiris said, savoring a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Simply exquisite. Have you tried them?”

Mark ignored the question. “So let’s say I’m willing to accept that these Builders are a threat. How does this Set figure into things? Why are we wasting men and material fighting here, if you claim these Builders are the true enemy?”

“The Builders may not return for decades, Mark,” Osiris said, shaking his head as he stared at the wall-sized view of Stonehenge. “Set is here now. We need the world united, but Set will never allow that.”

Mark clutched at his stomach as a cramp sent a spike of pain through his innards. He gritted his teeth until it subsided. A side effect of morphine withdrawal? Maybe. Or maybe not. “Okay, so you need to stop Set. You said we lack the power to do that, so why squander what we do have in an attempt you know will fail?”

“I don’t plan to,” Osiris said, steepling his fingers and resting his chin atop them. “I am gathering allies, something I’ll need your assistance with.”

“Who?” Mark began, but the question was choked off by another cramp. He gritted his teeth again, groaning against the pain.

This time it didn’t subside. He fell from the table, writhing on the floor as the creeping pain spread throughout his body. It engulfed his senses, and when the whiteness faded he found himself staring up at Osiris. The monster was smiling down at him, mere inches away.

“Relax, Mark,” he whispered, eyes flaring green. “There will only be a few more moments of pain. When you awaken to your second life, I will make everything clear to you.”

Oh, God.
The bastard had put something in the wine. Mark flashed back to the Syracuse facility, to staring through a skylight down at an operating table with one of the zombies strapped to it. That was where they’d first isolated Virus A2493, which he’d just been infected with.

Chapter 15-Audience

Trevor awoke with a groan, hauling himself to his feet as he blinked away the grogginess. Where the hell was he? He scanned the room, a tiny eight-by-six cell that looked entirely too familiar. The bronzed walls were identical to the room where they’d imprisoned Steve and Irakesh, though this time he was on the wrong side of the crackling blue bars.
 

He could see into the cell across from him. It was occupied by a very disgruntled-looking Commander Jordan. The man had returned to human form, and sat on the bench that ran along the cell’s back wall. Well-muscled arms were folded across his chest and he stared balefully in Trevor’s direction. That pissed Trevor off for no good reason, but he stifled the anger.

You were attacked by a powerful deathless, my host. One fabled among our kind. The mighty Anubis.

Trevor considered that, turning away from the Commander and stalking to his bench. He sat down, swinging his legs up as he rested his back against the wall. He wasn’t very well versed in Egyptian lore, though he’d picked up a few things from Blair. The Mother’s Egyptian name was Isis, and they’d recently learned about Osiris taking control of Mohn Corp. Those were names he knew, as was Anubis. Unfortunately, most of his knowledge came from Stargate, and he had no idea how accurate any of it was.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the distance, coming towards his cell with a deliberate cadence. Trevor rose from his bench, peering through the bars to see who might be approaching. The creature carried the same weapon that had been used to disembowel Steve and Jordan, a six-foot staff with a wide fan blade at either end. The figure who carried it didn’t look like he needed the weapon to kill, though. It stood a good eight feet tall, with either black skin or very short black fur. At first he thought it was a werewolf, but there were subtle differences. The muzzle was too long and a bit too thin. The eyes were a little too narrow. The teeth more numerous, and a bit smaller.

The creature, whatever it was, wore the strangest armor he’d ever seen. Golden sandals were strapped to its feet, the straps winding their way up to the knees. A pair of thick golden bracers covered the creature’s wrists, each bracer containing an oval sapphire. A similar torque covered its neck, with a larger sapphire set there. The headdress it wore was familiar to every school kid in the world. It could have belonged to King Tut.

The figure stopped in front of Trevor’s cell, sharp green eyes sizing him up. It barred its fangs, finally speaking. “Your name, pup—give it to me.”

Trevor was silent for a moment, several thoughts competing for his attention. The color of this thing’s eyes were the same as his own, and so far as he knew those only belonged to the deathless. It also spoke English, despite the fact that it clearly came from the ancient world.

“My name is Trevor. Trevor Gregg,” he finally said.

“I am Anubis,” the creature growled, pressing one of the sapphires on its wrist. The bars disappeared. “You will accompany me. If you attempt to flee, or show mighty Ra even a hint of disrespect, I will dismember you and scatter your entrails across the great desert.”

“That sounds unpleasant,” Trevor said, stepping into the hall. “I’ll cooperate.”

A wise choice, my host. Anubis is ancient and powerful. If you can befriend him, he can teach you much.

Trevor remained silent, falling into step as Anubis made his way back up the hallway. That too was familiar, a perfect mirror of the Ark of the Redwood. It was reassuring, since it meant he wasn’t totally lost. He glanced into Jordan’s cell as he passed. Unsurprisingly the Commander glared at him, though he didn’t utter a word.

Anubis led him through many corridors, eventually taking a series of stairs up to the central chamber. It was almost identical to its counterpart in Blair’s Ark, save that the decor was different. This one had clearly given rise to the Egyptian culture, with golden pillars dotted with a sea of hieroglyphs. A small flight of steps had been erected at the base of the largest obelisk, and they led up to the most ornate throne he’d ever seen. The chair appeared to be cut from one solid block of black marble, and was covered in golden hieroglyphs that glowed with their own inner light.
 

Yet it was the woman sitting on that throne that caught his attention. She was gorgeous. More than gorgeous. She was breathtaking, if he’d had breath to take. She had long hair of the deepest scarlet, a more elegant version of his own. Her skin was perfect alabaster, and her eyes were the sharpest emeralds he’d ever seen. She wore simple white garb nearly identical to the Mother’s, and a golden spear was propped against the side of the throne next to her.

It took several moments for Trevor to notice she wasn’t alone. Two figures stood at the base of the stairs, both familiar. Irakesh and Steve. Irakesh wore a triumphant smile, while Steve simply watched Trevor with that calculating gaze. A fresh shiver of fear rippled through him. He was well and truly in the house of his enemies.

“I bring Trevor of the house Gregg, mighty Ra,” Anubis rumbled, his staff sweeping forward in a blur. The move caught Trevor behind the knees, knocking him into a kneeling position. Anubis sank to one knee next to Trevor, lowering his voice as he hissed. “Avert your gaze, you fool.”

Trevor did exactly that, forcing his gaze to the black stone floor as he awaited Ra’s answer. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. According to his limited Egyptology, Ra had been a man. He knew she was a sun god, but that was about it.

“Rise, mighty Anubis. Bring the pup forward, that I might examine him,” came a musical voice. Trevor couldn’t place the accent, but it was very similar to Irakesh. The closest he could come would be to call it English.

A hand seized Trevor by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet and shoving him forward. He stumbled, recovering after a step, and marched forward, careful to keep his gaze averted as he made his way to the base of the steps. Anubis’s heavy feet clinked on the marble behind him, and he could feel the thing’s presence as they approached the throne.

“Look upon me, Trevor of house Gregg,” Ra commanded. Trevor felt his gaze rise before he was even conscious of it. She was even more beautiful up close, though that beauty had the same stark austerity of the desert where he’d lived outside San Diego. “Why have you come to the Ark of the Cradle? What do you seek here?”

“I came to kill that bastard,” Trevor said, nodding at Steve. He knew Irakesh was related to Ra, but she’d probably know if he was lying. So he told the truth. “If we were able to kill Irakesh too, that would have been even better.”

Ra steepled her fingers, expression unreadable. She studied him for long moments before finally speaking. “The Ka-Dun I can understand. He is the mortal enemy of our kind, after all. But why seek the death of my son? He is one of your kind.”

“I couldn’t care less about our ‘kind’,” Trevor spat, glaring at Irakesh. “Your son is a slimy coward who killed some of my friends. He forced me to do some pretty fucked-up things, and he enjoyed doing it. I bet he was the type of kid that pulled wings off of flies for fun.” Trevor shifted his gaze back to Ra. “Steve isn’t quite as bad, but he’s more intelligent and a lot more dangerous. Killing him isn’t personal. It’s just smart.”

Ra began to laugh, soft peals that echoed through the room. She stopped after several moments, glancing down at Irakesh. “How would you answer his words, my son?”

“If he wishes to kill me, let him come,” Irakesh spat, all sign of his earlier smile gone. His eyes narrowed, black eyebrows knitting together as he glared at Trevor. “He’s nothing but a half-trained kitten, easily dispatched. Give me leave and I will devour his corpse.”

“Come and get it, baldy,” Trevor shot back. Not smart maybe, but he was willing to try his luck.

“Silence,” Ra thundered. She rose from her throne, descending the stairs with a grace that drew the eye of every man in the room. She stopped before Trevor, a tall woman with the muscles of a lifelong athlete. She cupped his chin, tilting it one way, then the other. “You are well made, Trevor. And resourceful, if my wretch of a son is truthful in his accounts of his time at the Ark of the Redwood. I may let you live, if you please me.”