CHAPTER 31
The Calata member known as One maintained a secure enclave far enough from Florence to remain obscure. From there, she controlled immortal affairs over territories that ringed the Mediterranean Sea, through Spain, spreading North to the British Isles and the barbarian lands of Rome. Her territory extended East to the Carpathian Mountains and the contentious border with the Calata member known as Five. Her rival, known as Six, controlled Turkey and the Eastern Mediterranean coastline to the Suez Canal.
At that point, One regained control over the Northern lands of Africa. She held those lands in trust for Two, waiting for her return.
But Two had been gone for over twelve centuries. Her stay in the place known as The Away was said to be indefinite.
As for her compound, One’s sympathies were rooted in the exoticism of the Moors. She had adopted their architecture as her own, and a tall crenelated wall surrounded inner terraces leading to the two-story villa. The villa was built at the top of the hill to take advantage of the cooling summer breeze and to hold the high ground. Throughout the centuries, wars had been fought on these lands, armies decimated. Just as frequently, the gardens had been filled with women in elegant gowns. Men, too, some in whatever constituted the formal clothes for a particular century, others dressed in the ceremonial garb that ancient custom required.
Christan walked up the wide terraced steps, missing the weight of a sword strapped to his back. He moved with fluid grace, no energy wasted. As an Enforcer, he was more than comfortable with any lethal show of power. In this modern world, though, immortals had grown more paranoid about social media. Christan conformed to their preferences and the weapons he carried were less obvious.
A warrior stood at the heavy wooden entrance doors, dressed in the dark suit of the security detail. Sunglasses concealed his eyes. The man gave a deferential nod and ushered the enforcer inside. Christan walked the path he’d walked the day before, to the elegantly appointed room, highly secure. It was the room in which One conducted her most sensitive conversations.
Sliding into the shadows, Christan took his assigned position. It was against the wall and out of camera range. The video conference was in progress—he hadn’t been late; the two Calata members were always impatient. Three’s image was on the monitor, regal and dressed in white. Christan remembered how she’d been drawn to the Scandinavian persona, although not because it suited her. Three had once taken a Viking lover and had fond memories. Christan wondered if she’d kept the bear pelts.
Leander was also present. Christan nodded toward One’s enforcer leaning against the opposite wall, then glanced at the monitor again. Phillipe was now standing by Three’s side, and Christan’s attention sharpened.
“How many girls, One?” Three was demanding.
“Too many,” snapped the woman who was Three’s opposite. She stood five-foot four unless she was wearing four-inch heels, which she was, in a blood red color that matched the silk suit. A cloud of chestnut-colored hair shimmered around her shoulders. “And they’re not just your girls, Three, they’re attacking mine as well.”
“I’m sure Leander can deal with it.”
“Yes, unless your enforcer gets there first. Why did you send him into my territory without asking permission?”
“Because those were my girls,” Three said sharply. “And if we’d waited for your permission how many would have died?”
“You can’t turn someone like him loose without any control, not in this age of social media. Were you intending to expose what we do?”
“He was discreet.”
“He left a damn mess in that alley like he always does.”
“What Christan did was necessary,” Three snapped. “And if you weren’t so worried about the messes, you might have fewer of them. Have the men in the alley been identified?” Both women knew the alchemy had been designed to eliminate difficult explanations. A warrior in animal form would revert to his human body at the moment of death. Fingerprints and facial recognition technology would identify them.
One turned to Leander and flipped her hand impatiently. He stepped forward to hand her a file. Quickly, she read the details.
“Freelancers, some of Seven’s discards,” she said, tossing the file aside. “They’re growing bored while he’s on his walkabout.”
“When was the last time you talked to Seven?”
“Years ago, but he never communicated much. I deal with one of his assistants in Sydney.”
“Caitryn?”
“Yes.” One looked back at the scattered file, picked up a single sheet. “These warriors are well-known. They’re paid mercenaries of the lowest sort, not loyal to anyone.” One flicked the paper and it flew across the room. “You really should have anticipated that when you created them.”
“I recall the Calata being quite specific as to what they wanted,” Three said, and Christan watched as Phillipe turned his head and offered Three council on how not to inflame the situation. She tried to restrain herself. “Mercenaries would be a problem no matter what—you know most mercenaries are immortals and not warriors.”
“Beside the point,” One countered as she turned away. “Why is anyone using mercenaries to attack these girls?”
“At first, we thought this came from the Calata, trying to break the Agreement. Now we think it might have something to do with Two.”
“If this is about Two, why aren’t they attacking in North Africa?”
“You know her connection to the Etruscans.” And Two’s connection to Four, whose territory had once encompassed Italy. The Calata member had been protecting an Etruscan village when he was killed. The entire human population had been massacred, a horrendous crime, motivating the Calata’s desire for self-defense. Three had been asked to create warriors as a solution. Two had been crucial in providing the magic.
“You recall the stories,” Three continued. Everyone knew of the intrigue that circulated every century or so, that Two shared information, left scrolls behind. Most immortals dismissed the stories as gossip. Perhaps others had not. “The girls reincarnate in the general areas of their past lives. That might be why they’ve targeted girls living in your territory, trying to find those who might have known Two.”
“Then why is someone fixated on your enforcer’s girl? He never worked for Two. There’s a rumor about splitting his attention and that could be dangerous for all of us.”
“You shouldn’t listen to rumor, One.”
The chestnut-haired immortal turned to look at Christan. Her expression was not friendly. “You were in the Void for a long time.”
“A blink of an eye for him,” Phillipe offered from the video feed. One was not placated.
“Are you even capable of protecting your girl?” Leander shifted his position and looked away. One seemed oblivious to her enforcer’s discomfort. “They tell me you’re hiding out at your villa. Do you have adequate security there?”
Christan spoke evenly. “Both Arsen and Ethan have it covered.”
“Do you need Leander?”
“You need him more. This might have ended in the alley. If not, Kace will use the talent on hand if he intends to strike.”
One looked skeptical. “You expect him to do that soon?”
“It’s what I’d do in that position. Delay means the target escapes and you have nothing.”
“Maybe you should consider having nothing.”
“Maybe not.”
“Remember the old days,” Three said abruptly. “We deal with this decisively. Absolute clarity. We wait, you ask Christan to wait, and your territory explodes.”
“He over-reacted last night,” One snapped.
“They were trying to kill him.”
“I have bodies all over the place. He’s violent and he’s always been that way. You can’t bring your attack dog back and not keep him muzzled.” One looked at Christan again. “Every time you’re involved things get bloody.”
“It’s not always my decision.”
“Can you solve anything without creating a mess?”
“I’ll make that my new life goal.”
The Calata member turned away and looked at the monitor. “Maybe you can control him, Three.”
“They’re after his girl. I wouldn’t even try to control him.”
“He destroys things.”
“When necessary.”
“You’ll pay for the damages?”
“Haven’t I always?”
Three bent her head in a signal the conference was over, and the monitor went blank.