Tentyrian Legacy (45 page)

With our abilities and thirst, hiding what we
are is difficult. So over the years we kept our ears to the
ground—listening for whispers about people like us or humans who
possessed knowledge of our Tentyrian existence. Aside from the
Brothers, we managed to kill them all, or so we thought.

The revelation of what Arianna is doesn’t
change our plans. However, it does mean we need to act quickly. And
bring her to us if possible. Having Laura will do just that. That’s
why I hatched the plan to tip off the Brotherhood about DTPA12,
plant the bombs at our remaining facilities once the drugs were
secreted out through the underground tunnels, and contact Arianna
Parker. E-mailing her from Laura’s address was a shot in the dark.
Her phone number went straight to voicemail, and it appeared she
had literally disappeared off the face of the Earth. According to
Laura, she was on a business trip. Likely a business trip sponsored
by Maximos.

I ensured the e-mail was sent when the
Brothers would be distracted by the wild goose chase they likely
thought would be a successful mission. Little did they know about
the explosive greeting awaiting them. Laura obliged me when I took
her phone and sent Arianna an e-mail. When I explained to her my
rationale, she responded with an arched brow and soft reply.

“I understand you want her to come to you,”
she said, “because you want this power you believe she has. But
what makes you think she’ll even come? I explained to you that we
are friends, yes. But surely not so great of friends that she would
risk her life for me.”

“Perhaps. But if she is anything like her
ancestors, she’ll protect humanity at all costs,” I said. To my
surprise, the alluring woman next to me simply sipped her tea in
quiet contemplation. “Ms. Delia, you seem remarkably calm about
this situation. Why is that?” I asked. With a cool self-awareness
I’ve rarely seen exuded, she looked me squarely in the eye and gave
me an astounding answer.

“Because there is little I can do to change
the situation. You are clearly a man of great power and likely
possess some type of ability I have no experience understanding.
There is no way for me to escape from here, and I suspect that you
aren’t human. I went to work this morning and was taken out of my
office and brought here in a matter of seconds. It’s impossible for
me to rationalize how; however, you’ve explained to me the why. I
will not say that I condone what you are doing, as your accomplice
indicated you intend to kill me. I assume you are planning on doing
that after you use me as bait?” she said.

“Truthfully, I haven’t yet decided,” I
replied.

“Very well. Then I want to offer you a
proposition.”

I was surprised next at my own response—“I’m
all ears.”

“I’m not going to beg for my life. I don’t
believe in playing the victim. I graduated with honors from
Columbia University, and I’m a successful executive in advertising.
I’m told I’m smart and make for an excellent business partner. I
never want for male companionship, or friends, for that matter. To
be frank, I find you attractive. If circumstances were indeed
different or perhaps this was another life, I could even imagine us
on a date. I’m not attempting to flatter you or even offer myself
to you . . . sexually. However, I can offer you my companionship
and discretion, for however long you may wish.” “So you have no
qualms about your friend dying?”

“As I told you, she is more of an
acquaintance. I would prefer for Arianna to live, but if given the
choice between my life and hers, I would choose my own. Surely you
cannot blame me for saying that I don’t want to die?”

“No, I suppose I cannot. But why would you
agree to be with me?”

“Aside from being a potential alternative to
death? Well, I find you intriguing and powerful. Maybe with time we
can learn to understand each other. Everyone has motivations for
their behaviors. I have simply yet to understand yours.”

For several minutes, I had nothing to say as
I absorbed her fascinating proposition. This woman wasn’t
greedy—she was realistic. Clearly she was impressed by my power and
me, but rather than offering flattery that would inevitably ring
false in my ears, she gave me an unvarnished opinion. In this brave
new world that I’m crafting, I could benefit from someone like her.
Not that she’ll ever be my equal. But as I said, play toys grow
tiresome. And maybe I wouldn’t grow tired of her, at least not
immediately . . .

Therefore, I decided to let her live—for now.
I also conveniently needed a date to the polo match being hosted at
Senator Cromwell’s upstate home that afternoon. I rarely make any
public appearances, but this meeting warranted in-person attendance
. . .

I agreed to Laura Delia’s deal but made it
clear that if she displeased me or proved to be a liar, I’d drink
her dry without a moment’s hesitation. Her eyes grew wide, and for
the first time her fear was palpable. However, with one final sip
of her tea and a deep breath, she offered me a curt nod and
acquiescing handshake.

She clearly has breeding and is well
educated. Having an intelligent woman by one’s side can make all
the difference between a successful and failed deal. And today’s
deal with the senator is crucial. I’d normally bring Aglaia, but
she is angry with me. I’m going to be destroying her precious labs
in a matter of hours. That is, as soon as the Brothers are dumb
enough to show their faces.

They now know or have an inkling of what’s at
stake. Soon we’ll have the only drug on the market to treat a rare
radiation sickness. And when the “terrorist attacks” occur around
the globe—followed by war—Trebuchet will be there to supply both
the weapons and the only cure for when the humans become sick.
Simply masterful.

“I do love the hat and dress, Stavros. Thank
you,” Laura says graciously.

“I must say, the hat reminds me of a more
civilized time,” I reply. “Maybe you will tell me more about that
time, along with who we

will be talking to at the polo match?” she
asks. I keep my face passive, but my suspicions are sparked. “If I
have some basic information on who you want to engage or impress,
perhaps I can be of the best use to you.”

Her blue eyes are so clear and calm, could
there be a woman who is conniving under there? Perhaps I’ve been
around Aglaia for too long . . .and Hathor’s memory has poisoned
me. But even so, I’m not reckless enough to fully trust Laura. She
is still a woman.

2010 AD, July

Bedford, New York Senator Cromwell’s
Estate

Thank goodness my parents let me explore
acting and psychology in college, because I’m using every skill I
can remember. My assessment: Stavros Papadakis is a narcissistic
sociopath. I haven’t yet determined what he really thinks of me,
but he’s letting me live, which is a miracle. There was no time to
even absorb what was happening when that woman barged into my
office. The next thing I knew, I was tied to a bed in a room that
looked like something out of Victorian England with its brocade
canopy and thick coverings.

She said her name was Aglaia, and I learned
she is just as psychotic as Stavros. I could have clawed her face
off, and I tried, but what she showed me and said next made me
rethink my approach. Immediately, she tied a gag around my mouth,
and in a blur of motion, she had me restrained. As she was
tightening the binding ropes to my wrists and ankles, making me lay
spread eagle on the bed and subsequently humiliating me in my
skirt, she showed me her fangs. These were no plastic fangs from
Party City. As she brought her face next to mine, I literally saw
them protract from her gums. Their tips were as sharp as razor
blades. It was enough to make anyone faint. But I was so scared—I
couldn’t take my eyes off her or her mouth. A real-life vampire was
standing over me.

“I might as well tell you now so you can come
to terms with it, Laura Delia. Stavros, the man I brought you here
to meet, is going to kill you. We’re interested in what you know
about your friend Arianna Parker. If you want this to be less
painful, I suggest you tell the truth. If you lie, we’ll find out,
and when we do, I promise it will hurt,” she said. I was trembling
like an autumn leaf, and I would have screamed if I didn’t have a
handkerchief stuffed in my mouth.

The vampire then traced her finger along my
face and cupped it in a gesture that was almost motherly. “I’m
going to give you some advice, Laura Delia,” she said. Her voice
was enchanting, just like her appearance. Even in my immense fear,
I could appreciate her beauty as she continued to talk. “I’m
offering this advice because you remind me of myself. I like your
ambition and your no-nonsense attitude toward business and men. No
one likes a prude. So here it is: Stavros uses and abuses women. He
can be a sadistic son of a bitch if he doesn’t respect you. And he
doesn’t respect women, especially when they are hysterical and
insipid. I know him better than he knows himself. He is attracted
to strong women, as much as he would never admit that. Especially
after he was scorned by the world’s most powerful. I’m telling you
this not because it will save your life but because it might make
your death less miserable. Stavros is arrogant, proud, and he is
used to getting what he wants. Be careful which line you decide to
walk. Either way, it won’t matter. Arianna Parker will die and so
will you.”

The vampire then kissed my forehead
gently—her lips surprisingly warm—and left me to ponder my next
move. My conclusion was that I’ll be damned if I accept the fate
she pronounced for my best friend or me. I will go down fighting.
My only hope was to use the information Aglaia gave me and tread
carefully.

When Stavros stalked his way into the room
like a self-satisfied panther, what felt like hours later, I
recognized the look of a lecher. I’ve seen it dozens of times. It’s
impossible not to when you date in New York City. It took all my
power to remain collected, as he appraised me up and down like
newfound property, and even more so as I attempted to bargain with
him . . .

I intentionally downplayed my friendship with
Ari, while still providing information that was accurate. I’ve
known for years that Ari has some type of telepathic skill, not
that I’m about to reveal that to the crazies who obviously intend
to exploit her. Ari and I have actually never spoken about it
openly because I know how uncomfortable it makes her and the
struggles she’s gone through because of it. I also know that one
day she’ll tell me about it, when she is ready. Her gift is
undeniable—but so is our friendship.

Stavros is a vampire, or “Tentyrian” as he’s
since explained to me. However, at the end of the day, he is also a
man. And if there is anything I know about men, it’s how to
manipulate them. This is a man who likes to be in control. It’s
over ninety degrees outside, and he made me use a cream-colored
shawl to cover my exposed arms. That was after he had me dress up
like a Stepford wife to attend a polo match. I naturally agreed to
go and wear the ridiculous shawl, feigning my own Connecticut-bred
modesty. I then proceeded to engage him in a politically charged
conversation about Senator Cromwell’s Republican position on
contraception. It went over beautifully.

Conversing with Stavros in the chauffeured
Bentley on our way to Bedford was easy. The trick was to ask the
questions and let him respond with his lengthy diatribes. I never
contradicted him, but I shaped the conversation to always appear
engaged. I’m one to appreciate the art of conversation, but
throughout the hour and half drive, it was downright terrifying
knowing that one slip-up could cost me my life. When he received a
call on his cell he clearly wasn’t happy with, I thought for sure
he would kill me. But after yelling about the incompetence of
someone he referred to as a “subordinate” and he asked the person
on the other end of the phone to “eliminate him” because he had
failed in some task involving wiring, he appeared much calmer.

My mother always told me, “You don’t have to
be the most beautiful or even the smartest girl in the room. You
only have to be the most interesting.” This advice couldn’t be
better employed than now. I have to stay interesting. Whenever
Stavros’ hand would inappropriately inch up my leg, I would play
the coy maiden, shifting myself away from him. Because if Aglaia
was right—and she has been so far—Stavros gets what he wants. And
if I give in to his advances, I’ll no longer be the most
interesting girl in the room.

When we arrived at the lush colonial estate
that I was told was over thirty-two acres, I knew Stavros was still
interested. As the valet helped me out of the car, Stavros
aggressively pushed him out of the way and maintained his hand on
the small of my back, just as he did throughout the afternoon.
During the glasses of champagne, canapés, and watching the horses
charge around the field, I kept my senses trained on Stavros’ mood
and on gleaning any information I could to discover the larger plan
that was clearly in progress . . . and involved Ari.

Stavros alluded to this plan in the car by
regaling me with the extent of his businesses. He highlighted, in
particular, how Trebuchet has been supplying governments for years
with state-of-the-art weapons.

He stated that his centuries of hard work
were about to pay off. When I asked him what he wanted to discuss
with the senator and if he would wish for privacy at that
opportunity, he told me that he’d handle the conversation alone and
that it was just to “ensure an arrangement” the two had made.

So when our host, along with two not so
inconspicuous bodyguards, made their way over to us near the polo
field, I knew Stavros would eventually excuse himself with the
senator or he’d cue me to leave. But first, I needed to leave an
impression. So I went with what I know best—advertising. After
introductions that Stavros led, calling me a “dear friend” and
wrapping his arm around me protectively, I asked the senator if he
had yet engaged his advertising strategist for the 2012 campaign.
He said he had. I told him how fortunate that was, as his tact with
the minority populations could be improved, specifically the
targeted TV placements he ran in 2006. They verged on
pandering.