chapter TWO
The woman regarded him solemnly, without blinking, her dark brown eyes large with mystery, while the most hypnotic spark happened somewhere deep within the brown as she gazed at him. Nothing about her carried revulsion or disgust. But there was something. Something…
Rare.
KayNan’s eyes opened and he sat up, scanning the cubicle of space he claimed. It was claustrophobically small and stiflingly quiet. As always. Exactly as he liked it. If he stood to full height, his head grazed the ceiling. The only way to stretch was lengthwise. The chamber was just shy of a yard wide. Barely penetrable dim pervaded the area. Cold and dampness kept it company. A scent of corrosion permeated the very stone walls and floor. From there it reached out to embrace the eleven loops of chains dangling from big, iron nails along the three of the four walls. The entire area reeked of decay. That was how his servant, Marten, described it, and that’s exactly why KayNan liked it. It usually kept everyone well away from this section of the estate.
And that included women.
He finished checking the small area. Everything was precisely what he expected. Exactly as it had been for centuries. But that didn’t explain the woman. The one with the enormous dark brown eyes…large enough he could sink into their depths and enjoy the trip.
KayNan shook his head at this nonsense, rattling a small length of chain. That was the problem. He awakened before evening because he’d rested without undressing fully. One of the pegs wasn’t carrying its full complement of iron. There wasn’t a woman. He wasn’t poetic. He didn’t possess an imagination. Slavery had robbed that from him long before death finalized it. And he didn’t dream. He never dreamt.
KayNan fingered the small links of his neck chain, and then stopped as a tingle of sensation slipped from his finger pads into his palms. It was barely there…but he could swear he felt…something. He felt it! His eyes flew wide and he dropped the links, barely noticing how they thudded back into place against his chest. The strangeness was happening to his feet, too. KayNan stared down at them. The stone beneath him was brought from an old castle they’d been demolishing in the eighteenth century. He’d bought it and had it shipped over, and this little room created, because that’s all he’d known. Space was an oddity he now claimed, but rarely tasted. Luxuries had the same issue. He rested in a cubicle that resembled the room he’d shared with three other slaves, then two. One…then just him.
The tingling moved to encompass his wrists and ankles, deciding him. The cubicle had a wooden door with a big iron keyhole. Humans had lost the key when he’d had this home constructed, around this cell that had been moved and recreated, stone by stone. The key loss wasn’t an issue. Nobody ever locked the door.
KayNan shoved it open and blinked against the onslaught of richness and space and light – way too much light. What was happening? And why him? It didn’t look to be much past noon. Spring sun bisected the cavernous room where he should be sleeping with slashes of light. He should’ve ordered the window shades drawn. But why would he? April wasn’t known for daylight hours. And North Dakota was known for even less. Less everything. Light. People. Resources. That’s why he’d picked it. Nobody noticed the dynamiting that happened over a period of decades. Few noticed carriages, and then rail cars, and then truckloads of construction material and luxury goods getting delivered to a place so near the Canadian border and so far from civilization. Especially since it took over a century to design, craft, and finish his underground palace, and he’d used firms that weren’t well-known. Any that survived the Black Tuesday stock crash got eliminated some other way. They weren’t missed. Nobody noticed. Few cared.
The tingling sensation moved to his forearms, as well as climbed upward through his calves. KayNan worked the areas, appalled and yet amazed to feel his own muscles stretch and pull. He must have picked up an illness. Some heretofore unknown disease. Akron had given KayNan immortality and with it, the basics. Centuries of existence had given him everything else, and yet nowhere was it listed that an Immortal could pick up a weird disorder such as this. Maybe the Hunters had formulated one. He’d need instruction. An antidote. Something.
The mass of glazed Italian tile underfoot turned into thick carpet that swallowed his toes. And he felt it! KayNan sped up to a jog before he reached his tech room. Marten was probably still about, keeping an eye on things. The man must be nearing his seventies. He hadn’t seen his employer for decades. KayNan wondered if the old fellow’s heart could handle it.
And then he watched his own hand tremble at the doorknob.
Nobody was in his tech room. And it was dark. KayNan padded across the black slate floor and slid into an ergonomically designed black leather chair that he could actually feel with the backs of his thighs and against his shoulders. He couldn’t get the PC activated fast enough. Walls of flat screen televisions dominated the space, all going live simultaneously to show the electrical signature of the pipsqueak, Nigel.
KayNan almost groaned.
“Wow. Hey. Look who’s calling…our very own Barbarian. Holy crap. KayNan, my man. You look worse than when you took out that Raj-Put Prince. ‘Course I wasn’t around at the time and only have portraits to go by. And the painters were fairly flattering of your prowess, but hey. Aren’t those the same trousers?”
“Where’s the Crusader?”
“On some sort of Second Honeymoon. It was supposed to last three days. Akron gave him a couple of months since he played The Mating Card.”
“What?”
“You know. He’s mated. We aren’t. We don’t know how it is—”
“Get me Akron then,” KayNan interrupted him.
“Already here.”
Akron’s voice boomed through the speakers, sounding like he was in the same room. Nothing on the screen changed.
“I was just getting ready to send the call through, Sir.”
“And I’m Napoleon Bonaparte,” Akron answered.
The levity was so surprising there was dead silence for a moment. And then Nigel snorted.
“Right. You want me to disconnect?”
“Depends on KayNan. Well?”
KayNan considered it for a bit. Nigel was young. Immature. Looked about nineteen. He’d been changed after an automobile accident that should’ve killed him, and would’ve if Akron hadn’t stepped in. As the heir to the Hunter organization, it was totally against type. And completely unappreciated. The Beethan Clan blamed the Vampire Assassin League for Nigel’s un-death and subsequent betrayal. Especially at such a young age. Unfortunately, Nigel hadn’t seemed to have gained any insight or maturity since then.
Then again…this curse was so new, maybe Nigel could help.
“He can stay,” KayNan replied.
“Cool,” Nigel replied.
“So…what can we do for you today?” Akron asked.
“I’ve got trouble.”
“Can I ask something before we get started?” Nigel asked.
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you use that immense rock shower of yours up there? I mean, it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, and you never even turn it on. Or invite me up. What a place for a party.”
“Nigel—”
“No. Wait.” KayNan stopped Akron. “What’s a party?”
“You know. A bunch of guys. A lot of women. Some ripe blood. Some great tunes. Some nakedness. Some water sports…you know. Like your shower. Or that awesome sunken hot tub. I think that could hold eight before anyone even gets cold.”
“Cold?”
The weirdness moved into his chest. KayNan locked his muscles to fight the dim sound of what couldn’t possibly be a heartbeat. He didn’t have a heart. And if he did, it was as dead and unfeeling as the rest of him. Or…as the rest of him should be.
“Yeah. You know. Humans get cold. It does things…like tighten their nipples. It’s a lot of fun with the women. A lot.”
“Why?”
“Oh man. You’ve been dead too long, or something. Anybody can suck blood, KayNan. Few do it right. I happen to be an expert. I’ve got a list of women that call me for dates.”
“Oh. Hell. Akron?”
“Don’t ask me,” Akron inserted. “I’m going to let Nigel dig this hole all by himself, although…this does highlight why we’ve had an uptick in cell phone activity ever since they got to be the thing in communication.”
“Well. It’s your policy, Sir. I can only use them once. And heck. I’m called a lot. But once the chicks get too old, they’re like…too old. Fresh blood. That’s my style.”
Oh…damn. That was his heart. KayNan made fists about his chains as the muscle gave the slightest tremble deep in his chest, and then continued with another one. In a rhythmic fashion.
“My heart is beating,” he told them.
Dead silence answered. It lasted a full three seconds. And then Nigel started sputtering.
“You lucky bastard! Here I am describing things from memory as if I’m having the time of my un-life…and you’re experiencing them?”
“I’m not experiencing anything. Except this. Something weird is happening to me. All over.”
“Who is she?” Akron asked.
“Who?”
Nigel answered. “You’ve found your mate. This is what happens. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, or when. And I’d be jealous, except you are hundreds of years older than me. Shit. Does that mean I have to wait a millenia for my next date with a condom?”
“What’s a condom?” KayNan asked.
“Ignore him. It’s easier. We’ll send you over some videos. But Nigel is right about one thing. You are one lucky bastard. So, tell us. Who is she?”
“All set, Sir. I mean, shoot. Hit me with the details and I’ll be searching. We can always use new associates. The one Reika just delivered is really something. Name’s Darryl Bailes. Excellent knife skills. You should see the targets those two can hit. They just completed a hit on—”
“Nigel.”
Akron stopped him.
“Oh. Sorry Sir. When you’re ready. Or…when KayNan is ready. I’ll be typing. Any time now. Just give me some details. A name. Anything.”
Akron sighed. The sigh made a throbbing noise that swelled through the sound system.
“That’s just it,” KayNan replied. “I haven’t met anyone.”
“No?”
“Well…anybody that I didn’t kill.”
“Ouch. That would be disastrous, eh? Imagine, finding your one shot at reanimation and real live sex, and then snuffing it out. Wow. What a bummer.”
“His targets were the Carlotti brothers, Nigel. I sincerely doubt either of them were his mate.”
“Oh. Yeah. There is that. I’m just trying to brainstorm, here.”
“Keep it to yourself then.”
“That’s not the point of brainstorming, Sir. The idea is to toss out as many things as possible because one might just trigger something else, and that might trigger something else, and before you know it – voila! You have the answer.”
Another heavy sigh boomed through the speakers.
“All right. Fine. I’ll stay silent. Geez. Cut a guy some slack and what happens?”
“A guy might never get to play the VIDWAR game again. That is what happens.”
“Oh. Got it, Sir. I’ll just anxiously await instructions.”
“Are you still there, KayNan?” Akron asked.
He was. He was licking his lips with his tongue, and actually experiencing taste. Texture. Saltiness. And Nigel had been right. He could use a shower.
“Yes,” he replied finally.
“You need to give me some perimeters to work with here.”
“I don’t have any. I don’t get out much. You know that. And this…just started.”
“Time frame?”
“Ten minutes ago. Maybe more.”
“Triggering event?”
“Oh, that’s a great question, Sir. Really good.”
“Nigel—” Akron warned.
“I had a dream,” KayNan told them. “No. Wait. It was more a…vision.”
“A woman?” Nigel asked.
“Just a face. Actually…it was her eyes.”
“Color?”
“Dark brown.”
“Get started on it, Nigel.”
“Right. Female. Dark brown eyes. Not much to go by. I’m getting a bazillion hits, Sir.”
“Narrow it down then.”
“Right. How, Sir?”
“You could brainstorm.”
“Right. KayNan? Were her eyes any clue to nationality? Age?”
“Not…really,” KayNan replied.
“Nigel.”
“Sir?”
“I was being facetious.”
“Oh. Okay. What should I do?”
“When were you last out of your home, KayNan? And where?”
“The Carlos hit. Chicago.”
“Very good. Nigel? Shrink your search window for dark-brown eyed women. Bring up the investigation into the Carlotti murder. On my screen, too, please.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Here it is. The authorities have put together a team of detectives to solve the crime. They’re being pressured by the Carlotti family. Hey look. Aren’t they the same firm that makes men’s suits?”
“Nigel.”
“Sir?”
“What happened this morning? About fifteen minutes ago?”
“Oh. Autopsy…they just cut off the top of his head. You want visual?”
“Later. And the crime scene?”
“Looks like they sent an officer to accompany a woman. A psychic.”
“Stop, Nigel. Right there.”
“Sir?”
“KayNan?”
“Yes?” He leaned forward in his chair. The leather slid against the grime on his legs. He was definitely finding and using his shower the moment this was over.
“I’m checking out now. I’ll leave you with Nigel.”
“But—”
“This is your mate.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nigel can handle the particulars. He can send you the videos we mentioned, as well as assist you with your new wardrobe.”
“What?”
“You’re going to need a nice menswear firm. Due to recent history, I would not recommend the Carlotti Brothers. And this is all I can do. I am signing off now.”
“But, Sir!”
“You don’t understand. Neither of you. I have to go. Your mate has a powerful ability. So do I. That’s how I know what I know. I do not wish our abilities to interact. On any level. The last thing I wish is to be a voyeur in your…un-life. You understand yet?”
“I guess.”
“Good. Nigel? Carry on.”
Akron signed off. The effect was akin to turning the volume down. Dimming the lights. KayNan reached a hand to rub across stubble on his chin. Upper lip. There wasn’t much, because he’d shaved that fateful morning when he and the other slaves had made a bid for freedom. And failed.
“Okay. KayNan, my man. Looks like your mate is a pretty sweet looking brunette. Small. Dark brown eyes. And wow. She has a nice set of—uh. I better shut up. You’ll hurt me. Her name is Jeannette. She lives in Philadelphia. Has a small shop that sells incense and other mood enhancing items. You know. Like feng-shui. That sort of thing.”
“Feng-who?”
“Never mind. She inherited the space from an elderly aunt. And a very nice quarterly income. That explains how she can afford the taxes on that location. And here’s her home address. Oh. You probably don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s not there. She’s in the windy city. I’ve got her hotel. Her room number. And look. Here’s the code on her room keycard. But first…I’d better get you set up with some decent attire. Want it delivered to your PO Box in Nowhere, North Dakota? Or…want it expressed to her five-star Hotel?”
“Which is faster?”
“The hotel. I’ll book you into the penthouse suite. And…done. Oh. According to the file, you are still six foot two. Two hundred and five pounds. I’m going to assume that’s accurate. And your coloring probably looks best in winter shades.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Menswear, my dear Barbarian. Menswear. Oh. One more thing.”
KayNan stopped his finger on the power button. “What?”
“You’re going to have silk neckwear with your suit. Chains are definitely out of style this season. Trust me. Leave the iron at home. And try out that shower!”