Calm Before the Storm (9 page)

“And that means what? This just sounds like
a load of bull. And what about your kind, what the hell are you? And this
reference to the universe, are you saying this is some kind of ET, close
encounters moment?”

Abrasax laughed and moved back to his seat.
“Questions, questions, questions. You have so many.” His head turned to the
monitors and Tyr could see his lips curl into a satisfied grin. “Instead,
answer me this.” He motioned Tyr to look at the screens. “What is this female
to you?”

Tyr’s heart stuttered in his chest and
almost stopped beating. The camera trained on the basement car park showed a
large male striding across the lot. The brute’s large hand grasping the creamy,
delicate skin of the very woman Tyr’s instinct screamed at him to protect at
all costs. He barely knew her, had only spoken with her twice, yet the link
between them was a cosmic calling card that Tyr could not deny. She appeared
slightly groggy and her small frame stumbled as she was ushered through the
entrance. Tyr’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening in barely
contained fury.
If they hurt her…
Abrasax was regarding him intently.
Don’t
give anything away.

“Looks like one of my so-called lawyers.”
Tyr spoke casually, his tone measured. “What’s she doing here? You need legal
advice for something?”

“No, but insurance is always useful,”
Abrasax replied. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Somehow Tyr managed to remain impassive,
gritting his teeth as Abrasax spoke into a mic on his desk. “Take our lovely
guest to the red room.” He turned to face Tyr. “Now I suggest you take a seat
and we can discuss some of the answers to your many questions.”

Irina stumbled groggily through the open
door, having been all but dragged from the car by the inhuman male with scary
yellow eyes. Her brain was still cloudy from the drug, her vision blurry and
her head felt like a thousand hammers were pounding and executing a tap dance
on her optical nerves. As her vision cleared, she realized the door behind her
had shut and she had been left alone in an opulent penthouse room, every
surface of which was a different shade of red.

The walls, bed, sofa all varied from
crimson to scarlet, from maroon to vermillion and shades in between. Someone
obviously had a penchant for red. She wondered why, her heart speeding up as a
nasty thought intruded—it would certainly be easy to hide any stains. A chill
of fear washed over her. Where the hell was she? Who had taken her?

There was a large mirror against one wall
and on the opposite side five TV screens flickered with a variety of images but
no sound. It was then as her still blurry eyes began to focus, her vision
sharpening, that she recognized the figures on the screens. Her heart jumped
into her throat, choking her, leaving her gasping for breath.
He
was
here.

Tyr Bellor’s face stared back at her from
the screen, black eyes dark and forbidding. Each monitor viewed the scene from
different angles. She saw his profile, the hair curling on the nape of his
neck, broad shoulders and hands that had touched her, protected her, cradled
her. Lifting her hand to skim the glass screen, she dropped her fingers in
surprise, realizing that the man with him was Aamon Abrasax. She remembered his
visit to the station. What was Tyr doing here with him? Her predicament—slash
that—her kidnapping, was this all because of him? Was her presence here a
result of her contact with an accused murderer? A sense of confusion and
betrayal gnawed at her gut, although why she felt betrayed by this man, a man
she really didn’t know, who owed her nothing, she could hardly comprehend. But
that connection, no! It had been real. Hadn’t it? She had felt it so strongly.
But for her own sanity maybe she ought to let it go. Sever the link. Cut
through and slice. But when it came right down to it, she wasn’t sure she could
let it go.

Glancing around, Irina searched for a
phone, but there was none. She tried the balcony doors. Locked. There was no
way out. She had to watch. Reluctantly, she reached for the remote and
increased the volume.

* * * * *

Tyr took a seat in Abrasax’s office, his
brain busily sifting through the information he had assimilated. He had grasped
that he was in an episode of
The Twilight Zone
, but as his life so far
had been a never-ending chaos of weird he could take that in his stride. He
didn’t believe in anything except himself, so had no qualms when faced with
evidence of other planets and aliens who walk among us. In fact if anything it
would explain some of the bizarre experiences he’d had as a child living
roughly on the streets, the feeling of being watched, that many of those who
ruled over the gangs were not what they appeared to be. Much like the man in
front of him.

It was Irina’s presence here, though, that
had rocked him more than anything. The urge to keep her safe, protect her, was
overwhelming. But that she was here, with Abrasax! That had him conflicted. A
battle between his heart and mind kicked off. He suppressed those thoughts by
returning to Abrasax’s other assertion. That he was some kind of container for
the “essence of war”, whatever the fuck that meant. He grappled with that
thought. He knew it meant he was valuable and Abrasax needed him, so, he would
deploy delaying tactics with Abrasax while working on his strategy.

“Okay,” he said coolly, leaning back in the
chair. “You got me interested. Explain what you want from me.”

“The universe is a big place, Tyr, and
everything within it is connected,” began Abrasax. “There are many galaxies,
realms, planes of existence, Earth being just one of them and all are linked by
threads, tenuous connections of matter and energy. You probably understand this
as atoms and particles such as explained in your rather primitive Earthani
quantum physics. But there is much more to it than that. There are magicks and
energies beyond Earthani comprehension and since the beginning of time those
energies have been in constant conflict, two opposing sides battling for
domination. You enjoy being on the winning side, don’t you?” Abrasax took a
moment to let that sink in as he eyed Tyr with a measuring glance. “You must
do. You are War. To conquer is innate in you. You are competitive in the
extreme. The essence of war permeates every atom of your being.” He stopped,
searching Tyr for a reaction. Tyr gave him none. “Does this sound familiar?” he
asked.

“What if it does? What does being the
essence of war mean exactly?” countered Tyr, needing precise information.

“My people,” Abrasax continued, “collect
those essences, such as you contain, to ensure that we have dominance over the
other side. This conflict has been fought for millennia and Esseni such as you
hold the key to unleashing untold power. You can help us to be victorious, to
win not just one battle or skirmish but the entire war. With you we can
annihilate our enemy.”

“Who are your people and why are they
different from the other side?” asked Tyr curiously.

“My people are the ones you don’t want to
fuck with. You respect strength, you exist to win and we Discordants are the
same. We are your people. We can help you to realize the potential that resides
inside you. To become what you were born to be. You will be a god amongst men.
Look around you. All this and more can belong to you.” Abrasax’s eyes flashed
intensely, the yellow glow pulsing with barely contained enthusiasm.

“What do I have to do for all this?” Tyr
supposed he ought to sound interested.

“Just fight for us. Use your power and
essence to crush the Eunomi Alliance. They are the other side in this conflict.
They are weak and want to steal power from us. They will do anything to convince
you to their side, play on your weaknesses, your fears. But they don’t
understand you like I do. You have no weaknesses. You are ruthless. You live to
dominate. Conflict feeds your soul. You have darkness within you that consumes
everything. You were born for this. You are War.”

Tyr’s head was spinning, overloaded with
this new information. Aliens, other planets, some ancient cosmic battle going
on that he was an essential part of!
What the fuck?
If science fiction
had taught him anything, it was that this usually entailed a battle between
good and evil. But which side was good and which side was evil? It could be
that both sides were corrupt and that one was a lesser evil than the other. And
he was
War?
What the hell did that mean? Deflecting that assertion, his
thoughts returned to Sal and his family. One thing was for sure—he could not
forgive Abrasax for killing Sal, but that wouldn’t stop him from using Abrasax
to glean information.

“What about Sal? Why did you kill him? Was
he a Discordant like you?”

“Sal had begun to distort aspects of our
mission. His mind was corrupted and he was weak.”

Abrasax paused before continuing. “You do
not want to be weak Tyr.”

“His family, where are they?”

“Let’s just say they are safe for now and
they will continue to be whilst I have your loyalty. The female lawyer also is
in safe hands for the moment.”

“She means nothing to me, Abrasax. Do
whatever you like with her.”
Play it cool
.
Call his bluff.

Tyr understood the insinuation. He had no
choice but to go along with Abrasax, even though most of what he had said was
confusing as hell. But he understood three things: There was a fight going on,
Abrasax wanted him in their corner, and if he didn’t agree, Sal’s girls and
Irina would suffer.

So feign surrender and play dumb while
keeping options open. Time to box cleverly.
“I
always play to win. You know that, but I don’t give my loyalty to just anyone.
You need to earn it.”

“Well, Let us see what we can do to
convince you that our way is best.” Abrasax pressed a button on his desk.

As Tyr’s brain mulled over any number of
scenarios for locating Sal’s girls and ensuring Irina was safe, the door opened
and a tall female entered. Her skin was pale, almost translucent and the green
eyes that blinked beneath pale gold lashes were a mesmerising emerald,
glittering with lustful promise. He found himself staring in rapt attention, as
she moved toward him with a fluid swing of her hips that encouraged her golden
hair to sway from side to side in hypnotic waves.

The female was dressed head to toe in a
dark-green leather bodice and skin-tight trousers that clung to her curves like
a wetsuit, appearing almost damp. Her skin glistened as if she had recently
showered and was still moist. It was surprising that although he found her
attractive, he felt no heat stirring his blood, no heart stuttering in his
chest as it did with one particular female.

He stood when she entered, as did Abrasax.
“Ah, Rusalka, my sweet!” exclaimed Abrasax, “how good of you to come so
quickly.” Tyr imagined he heard a certain irony in his voice.

Rusalka smiled, her head tilted toward Tyr,
her eyes darting his direction. “I would have come sooner if I known exactly
who your guest was,” she replied in smooth silky tones. She walked toward him
and ran her fingers up his arm and then slowly across his shoulders and back.
“I do
so
love a man with muscle,” she purred at his neck, “and yours are
pretty damn fine.” Sashaying away, glancing provocatively over her shoulder.
“Did you bring him for me to play with, Abra?” she asked pouting, draping her
lithe body across back of the sofa.

“Calm yourself. Tyr and I have business,
perhaps when it is done, you two can play. Until then why don’t you pour us
both a drink?”

Her eyes rolled in Tyr’s direction as if to
say that Abrasax was a big meanie for spoiling their fun, but she did as he
said, all the while exaggerating the movements of her body and glancing at him
flirtatiously to gauge his reaction.

Tyr managed to contain himself and gave his
full attention back to Abrasax. He continued to maintain his rigid
self-control, even though she decided to perch herself on the arm of his chair,
having poured him a whiskey. She ran her hands up and down his chest, purring
softly as Tyr carried on the discussion with Abrasax, keen to garner as much
information as he could.
Feign surrender, play dumb, and keep options open
.

* * * * *

Irina, watching from the red room,
increased the volume just as Tyr asked, “What do I have to do for all this?”
Her mind tried to process what she was hearing, but some of the words Abrasax
used were unfamiliar. All she could see was Tyr, agreeing to some sort of
business transaction with Abrasax who had apparently killed Sal, and now Tyr
was going to work for him!

At his next words any remaining slivers of
hope that were lingering in her chest died. “She means nothing to me.” The
words cut through her and twisted serrated daggers in her heart, a clamp
squeezing out the remaining blood. And then that female—all over him like a
rash! And he just sat there, relaxed, a beautiful evil, sipping his whiskey as
if discussing the weather!

An overwhelming sense of betrayal and
disgust erupted like a volcano in her chest. The pain was excruciating. She
almost doubled over as it ripped into her gut and she had to steady herself to
make it to the bed. Irina sat on the edge holding her stomach, arms wrapped
around her waist, trying to hold herself together as little pieces of herself
were torn away. As she listened to the words that were killing her, hot tears
welled in her eyes, tears containing all the guilt, disappointment and sorrow
entwined with her past, her family—
and him
.

How could she have been so stupid? She had
still clung to a small thread of hope that perhaps she was mistaken in him, but
the evidence against him was mounting. His reaction to her at the police
station had been nothing but fake, some kind of ploy to string her along. He
might not have killed Sal but Abrasax had and now Tyr was signing up with him!
Although why she should care what he did, she didn’t even want to consider. She
didn’t really know him—it was just the weird connection she felt tangling her
in knots. And why had they brought her here? That was something she couldn’t
fathom. Unless it all stemmed back to the day her family died. She had always felt
deep down that it was her they were looking for. Had they now found her? Was
Abrasax the instigator? Well, she may be Miss Pacifist but she was no pushover.

Irina made her way to the bathroom and
splashed her face with water. It quelled the volcano inside and she gazed at
her face in the mirror. Her reflection was haunted, her eyes hollow.

“I’ll make him pay,” she vowed, “and if I
ever get my hands on that furniture whore, I’ll tear her eyes out and eat them
for breakfast.”

Irina steeled her thoughts on payback all
the while trying to stifle the incessant drumming of a thought that questioned
why she should care at all. Tyr Bellor was a faded shadow, a wisp of vapor, a
nothing. As far as she was concerned, he no longer existed on her radar. But if
that was true, why was her last thought before sleep overtook her, the image of
dark curling lashes crossing obsidian dark eyes?