“I want you to help King.”
A hearty chuckle erupted on the other end of the line. “Help him? I mean to kill him, Jeni—unless you’re agreeing to my terms. Are you agreeing?”
“No. But I’m going to ask you to hear me out—just like you asked me to do.”
“Why should I listen? What’s in it for me, little treasure?”
He wanted to make a trade just to hear me out? I had nothing to give except, well, information. “What if I told you the Seers are planning to rewrite history, one without Ten Club?” He would care about that, right? Like the other members, I guessed he’d been acquiring powers, money, and skills because of them. They all traded.
“Then I’d say where do you want to meet?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ansin
My little treasure is asking me for a favor? I chuckled, amused by this unforeseen twist. Hilarious. I was no hero. I was as coldhearted and cruel as they came. Why deny what I was? I was not here to please anyone but myself. I could admit, however, that this detour intrigued me. I had never played this role—brave knight, rescuing the damsel in distress—until Jeni came along. First I saved her from Victor, and now this.
Yes, yes. It will be fun.
I’d lived for over two thousand years, and while I had important work to do, life could get tedious, redundant. Maybe this was just the distraction I needed. A little battery recharge, if you will. At a minimum, I was intrigued. Why would a man like King require my assistance?
What happened, my little treasure? What horrors would drive you straight into the arms of a venomous snake out to bite you?
Just before ten p.m., I pulled up on my Harley to the run-down café three hours south of Tallahassee. I’d been on my boat in Miami at the time of her call, preparing for my showdown with King. I found boats to be useful when storing things not meant for the public’s eye. Or for moving items on a moment’s notice.
My boat was a twenty-year-old steel trawler, complete with a crew of authentic-looking fishermen—sun-damaged faces, scarred hands, the smell of the ocean permanently infused in their skin. They looked authentic because they were authentic. In their minds, they spent their days fishing for red snapper and grouper, but really, they slept, ate, maintained the boat, and lived in a fantasy world I had created just for them.
My kind of power was useful, though I’d acquired this particular trick from Sage, the woman King was hunting at the moment. Sage had very interesting tastes in the occult, but her dream potions were the only things of value to me. She was also known for her druid tattoos. Protection wards, immortality, physical strength—she had a tattoo for everything. Made millions off them. Of course, if any of her clients ever displeased her, she had the power to sour those tattoos and turn them into painful punishments. Luckily, I never needed her help with such things. My mother had seen to my immortality and power.
Unfortunately, I was fast approaching a bottleneck. As one individual, I could only manage control over so many people and things. It was time to expand. But finding people I could trust, who would obey and use their gifts in ways that served me? Not easy.
Trust me. I’d tried.
Family were the only ones with true loyalty. Children, in particular, could be taught to do things my way.
That was where Jeni came in.
Together, she and I could have ten, eleven children. Maybe more if we pushed it. Each one would be a force all their own, and I would ensure they were raised to understand the meaning of loyalty and obedience. I would teach them to fight.
The next group of tyrants who come knocking will be greeted much differently. Had my elders been more prepared, our people would still exist. Instead, we had been wiped out by a pack of narcissistic, power-hungry Neanderthals with swords and leather skirts.
Fuck the Romans.
So, yes, there had been some truth to the story I gave Jeni. I wanted her for her powers. True. I wanted to resurrect my bloodline. True.
However, this time around, they would be warriors and more powerful than any battalion, Ten Club, or group of Seers. My new family would not be victims or Celtiberian pagans who held hands around a campfire and debated ad nauseum over each and every decision. They would have a strong leader. A ruthless leader. One leader. Me.
I unzipped my leather jacket and entered the café, a bell chiming my arrival. I immediately spotted Jeni sitting in a booth toward the back, with her dark hair in a messy bun.
She looks tired. I could see the bags under her eyes from here.
A waiter appeared to my side. “Good evening. How many?”