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  The Divine Engine of Thoth responded with a clap of thunder that shook the stones of the chamber. A single sphere reversed its orbit, changing from golden yellow to a deep blood red. For a moment, the world paused in dreadful stillness; then the Engine vanished in a rush of air.

  Hakron staggered backward. A tidal wave of force rippled out in an instant from the center of the Engine. A wave that reformed the reality of the everyday world eliminating what was no longer possible and enabling what must now occur.

  Hakron regained his balance. The chamber was once more lit by the pale glow of the flickering torchlight. His skin crawled over his back and arms. He involuntarily took a step backward, coming to a halt against the cold stone wall of the chamber. Something had just moved in the room, something that should not have moved at all.

  Mekra stirred. The hairs on the back of Hakron’s neck rose in a primal response. He stared, unable to look away as she sat up, her gorgeous brown eyes glittering like jewels, blinking with surprise in the soft glow of the torchlight. Her skin glowed once again with the abundant health that had so recently deserted her.

  Ahknaton sighed. The key dropped from his hand to clatter on the stone floor.

  Mekra’s eyes locked avidly on her husband’s face. Smiling with delight, she invited huskily, “Ahknaton - my love - come to me.”

  Needing no urging, he scooped her up into his arms, twirling her around the chamber. She melted into his muscular arms, her lips finding his throat and nuzzling into the firm groove she found there.

  Stepping quietly away from the scene, Hakron edged nearer to the entrance of the chamber. Caught between rank terror and urgent curiosity, he lifted his torch high so that he could clearly witness a miracle of the gods.

  Ahknaton whispered, “We will be together now, forever in victory over death itself.”

  Hakron frowned. Mekra began to stiffen, her hands clenching hard onto Ahknaton’s shoulders. He winced with sudden pain, startled by her strength. The shift in her mood was palpable, filling the chamber with a fell charge of dark power.

  Mekra, her face frozen with horror, called out, “What have you done?”

  “I have saved you,” Ahknaton cried, a sliver of doubt creeping into his voice.

  “No!” Mekra screamed. “You have doomed us both!”

  Mekra’s grip tightened on Ahknaton’s massive shoulders. He crumpled to his knees, groaning with agony. A bone suddenly snapped like a dry twig and Ahknaton cursed through gritted teeth.

  Hakron edged into the chamber entrance, transfixed by what was happening before his eyes.

  Mekra’s face twisted with a horrific need. She reared back her head, sharp fangs sprouting in her gaping mouth.

  Ahknaton, his heroic physique useless against her supernatural strength, flopped like a rag doll in her hands.

  Mekra blurred forward, sinking her fangs into his neck. Blood splashed before she fixed her mouth over the wound. She sucked eagerly at the red tide flooding down her throat.

  Watching from the chamber entrance, Hakron’s gaze darted from the lust and horror alternating on Mekra’s face, to the uncomprehending shock rising like a dark sun over Ahknaton’s face.

  In moments, Mekra had drained the life from her beloved husband. She staggered back as he slumped to the floor.

  Mekra cried out with outraged grief and horrified despair. Her scream tore at the walls, slicing like a razor within Hakron’s head. She fled from the chamber, slamming him into the wall as she blurred past him with inhuman speed, uncaring of his fate in her anguish.

  Hakron awoke and looked around. The torches still burned, Ahknaton’s body still lay lifelessly on the cold stones of the floor, but of the Divine Engine of Thoth, or of Mekra, there was no sign.

  Retrieving the key of Ahknaton from where it lay on the cold stone floor, Hakron left the chamber.

  Surfacing into the Temple, Hakron counted eleven men, all dead. Cast aside by a newborn demon as she emerged from the depths below. He clenched the key of Ahknaton tightly, terrified that he would lose it. He walked to the entrance of the temple, the storm was gone and the night sky was clear. A river of stars arched across the night sky a celestial echo of the Divine Engine of Thoth.

  The Engine knew Ahknaton was coming, the storm was a warning.

  A sudden gust of cold wind swept up from the desert sands, the fine grit catching on the lines of tears on his face, which he hurriedly wiped away with his forearm.

  No time for tears. No time for grief.

  He stood tall, scanning the night sky and the desert. He stared into the darkness, listening intently, but there was no sign of Mekra. His heart churned; a ship tossed on an unsteady sea. He breathed, slower and slower, and grief gave way to resolve.

  What my brother has done, I will devote my life to undo.

  He called out to the night, “Something must be done, and something will be done. This I swear by the almighty Thoth.”

  The silence heard him and drank in his words.

  Hakron, the second prince of the southern realm and master scribe of the temple of Thoth, left that night, never to return.

  Chapter One

  “Power that is secret will endure.” - Cornelius Crane, King of the Vampires

  * * *

  Boston, April 28th, 20:25

  The white limousine purred down the darkened street.

  General Chloe Armitage rested on the back seat, watching the houses as she passed by, her extraordinary senses drinking in the world around her. The faint glow of warmth from the recent footprints of a man walking his dog. The rhythmic sound of the heartbeats of the people in their homes. The smell of garden beds, freshly turned soil and a recently buried cat that had begun to bloat with corruption. A sea of information on which her mind could plumb the depths of, or soar far above.

  Chloe tapped her knee with an impatient finger. Her companion, Marcus Drake, sat beside her, he looked at her quizzically for a moment. She lifted her hand, dismissed him and looked away. She was thankful that he didn’t speak, she didn’t want or need his concern. His personal devotion was useful and surprising given the century-long curse that had bound him to her will. Even after so much time he still loved her.

  She found his loyalty a mystery, especially given how her own circumstances mirrored his. She’d long and intimate knowledge of a binding curse.

  The faint glow from the car console reflected her face in the window beside her. She glanced at her dark brown hair, straight and fine, cut into a professional Bob. Her hair neatly framed her exquisite face, her complexion was flawless cream, her blue eyes were magnetic, and her full lips were a seductive red. She smiled briefly in careful anticipation of the night ahead and focused her mind using skills taught to her as a child. Accelerating her perceptions, her thoughts raced ahead as the world receded into a slow dream.

  Chloe’s mission objective was clear, to retrieve the ancient Egyptian Papyrus of Hakron the Scribe from the Slayne family, and deliver it to her master, Cornelius Crane, lord of this world. Tonight, represented the culmination of nearly two centuries of planning and searching to find the Papyrus by Crane and his five generals.

  However, one thing troubled her, Why was there no mention of the boy?

  Crane’s informant within the Order of Thoth had betrayed the location of the Slaynes and yet the parameters of the operation only included the parents, Anna and William Slayne. Her own research had revealed the existence of Anna and William’s son, Anton Slayne.

  Chloe was the last of Crane’s generals to be recruited via transformation into a vampire and magically cursed to never harm him. She’d risen to prominence amongst the five by delivering the Key of Ahknaton into Crane’s hand; taken from a secret vault beneath St Peter’s Basilica. Delivery of the Papyrus would cement her primacy as first amongst the generals.

  Crane had offered her any reward she may care to name, but she’d declined the offer, as there was only one thing she really wanted and it was beyond his ability to give.

&n
bsp; When the Interpretive Codex is provided to you, and you have all three of the artifacts of the Metaframe, what then my lord? What price will you pay for my continued service? You have bound me with magic so that I can never harm you, but for all your genius, knowledge, and wisdom, you fail to see that the binding may have a loophole - and you know nothing about this boy who is so dangerously like his grandfather.

  The limousine slowed down and began to turn. Moments later, the luxurious car pulled to a halt. The street had ended in a quiet suburban court and she looked out at a pleasant, unremarkable, middle-class home. Relaxing her focus, she decelerated her mind and the world snapped back into motion. She smiled with anticipation, after tonight, this peaceful street would never be the same again.

  Marcus stepped out of the car, dressed in a finely tailored pinstripe suit that fitted his tall, powerful frame perfectly. He moved quickly to open the car door for Chloe. She stepped from the car with feline grace, her body equally at home in a national ballet troupe or on an Haute Couture fashion catwalk. Smoothing her elegant black pants suit, she walked purposefully to the front door. Marcus fetched a long black case from the trunk of the car and followed a step behind her.

  The limousine driver drove the big car away, parking about fifty yards down the street.

  Chloe stood before the door and rang the doorbell.

  * * *

  ‘Because the peace of God is with them whose mind and soul are in harmony, who are free from desire and wrath, who know their own soul.’

  The doorbell rang.

  Anton Smith put down the Sanskrit copy of the Bhagavad Gita he was reading and looked at the clock - it was 8:30 pm. He considered ignoring the doorbell, he had spring semester exams starting in a week, and it was simpler to pretend no one was home than go downstairs and answer the door. He’d completed studying for his first-year subjects, mathematics, ancient languages, and archaeology. He knew the material well and was confident of doing well for someone on an ice hockey scholarship.

  He was honest enough to admit that he was killing time with the Gita. The book belonged to his mother who had taught him the Sanskrit language before he was ten and he’d caught her infectious passion for Indo-European Mythology. Anton expected his parents to come home in another one to two hours from their faculty dinner at Boston University. Then he could borrow the car and hang out with his friends. It was Saturday night, he’d turned eighteen two days before on the twenty sixth of April, and it was time to celebrate.

  Picking up a mini-soft basketball, he lounged back in his desk chair. He casually looped the ball toward a small hoop on the other side of his bedroom. It sailed through the air and went straight through the middle of the ring. Looking back at his computer screen, the Hockey East League website was prominently displayed. The previous season had finished a couple of weeks ago. Boston University had lost by a single goal in the Championship game.

  Anton stared at the screen, nonplussed by the result. We won every game all season - but not the one that mattered - how did that happen?

  The doorbell rang again.

  Rubbing his face with both hands he stood up and remarked to himself, “This guy is persistent, I’m going to have to get rid of him.”

  He walked downstairs in his socks. He was wearing a simple gray, long sleeved BU Hockey T-shirt, and jeans that hid the rugged athleticism of his six feet one-inch frame. Anton jumped the last couple of stairs and arrived at the front door just as the doorbell rang for the third time.

  He opened the door. Before him stood the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

  She was tall, nearly the same height as Anton. A brunette with vivid blue eyes and a flawless complexion. She was wearing a professional black business pants suit with a short jacket, and a translucent scarlet silk chiffon shirt that displayed the round curves of her breasts within a stylish black bra. Just standing still, she was a seductive mix of poise, elegance, and class, with a face that commanded attention.

  Anton was momentarily stunned speechless.

  She smiled at him, revealing perfect teeth framed by full, sensuous lips, and declared with a polished English accent, “Mr. Slayne, please let me introduce myself, I am Chloe Armitage.”

  Slayne? … What?

  Anton decided he must have misheard her and replied, “Hi, I’m Anton.” He immediately mentally kicked himself for not thinking of something more suave to say. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice his lack of cool.

  Chloe swept her right hand back toward the large man who stood a couple of steps behind her. He was big, blond, hard and looked like high-class security. She introduced him, “This is my associate, Mr. Drake. We work for an organization with a long-term interest in your family,” she paused briefly, a slight smile curling her generous lips as if she was quietly amused by something and offered, “and I believe we have information you will find quite fascinating.”

  Anton caught up on what the vision before him had said; they had the wrong man. Disappointment flooded through him and he apologized, “I’m sorry, my name isn’t Slayne. It’s Anton Smith. There must have been a mistake.”

  Arching an eyebrow, Chloe inquired again, “Mr. Slayne, Anton, if I may?”

  Anton nodded and shrugged, nonplussed by her insistence on getting his name wrong, but willing to go along with whatever was happening. The last thing he wanted her to do was leave.

  “Anton, we have much to explain,” she waved her left hand elegantly toward the empty hall behind Anton. “Perhaps you could invite us inside and we can clarify any questions you may have.”

  Anton considered her proposal for all of half a second. After all, it wasn’t every evening that a statuesque super-model landed on your doorstep and asked to come in. He smiled broadly and agreed, “Sure, please come in.”

  Anton directed them past him to the lounge room, just off the main hall. He closed the front door and followed them into the room. They were standing there waiting for him. They hadn’t assumed they could just sit down. He was struck by how polite they were. Their manners where old school - very old school.

  “Please sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Anton offered. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Marcus shook his head. He sat down in a large single chair, and placed his long black case next to it, leaned back and studied Anton speculatively.

  Chloe took a seat on a long lounge opposite a coffee table.

  Her blue eyes locked on his and she requested with a charming smile, “A glass of water will be fine.”

  Anton fetched the water. It was clear study was over for tonight. He was puzzled by the last name mix up. She seemed certain that his family name was Slayne. Intrigued, he wanted to understand what was going on. At the very least he definitely wanted to get to know Ms. Chloe Armitage better. After all, what on Earth did he have to lose by spending time with a beautiful young woman?

  Returning to the lounge room, Anton placed the glass of water on the coffee table in front of his guest.

  Chloe inclined her head slightly in a silent thank you but ignored the glass as Anton sat down in a chair opposite her. She leaned forward and declared, “Anton, as I said earlier, the organization I work for is very interested in your family.”

  Anton studied her for a moment. She was certainly serious about something. It was time to find out what. He began with a direct approach and asked, “Okay, who do you work for and what is your interest in us?”

  Chloe glanced at Marcus and requested, “A card if you please.”

  Marcus opened the case, and extracted a business card which he silently handed to Anton.

  “Thanks,” Anton offered, taking the card. He began to wonder if Mr. Drake would ever speak.

  The business card was black with gold letters and read, ‘R.I.S.C, Risk, Investigation, Security, Consultants. Chloe Armitage. Director, North American Operations.’

  Anton turned the card over a couple of times. The business card didn’t shed any light on who these people rea
lly were. It didn’t even have contact details or an address. He put the card down on the coffee table and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  Chloe arched an eyebrow and offered, “We deal with information, we connect the right people with the right information.”

  Spooks? Anton thought, a sliver of unease crawling through his gut, and he asked, “What do you want with my family?”

  “Anton,” Chloe inquired. “Are you sure that you know who your family are?”

  Anton was momentarily nonplussed. What sort of question is that? “Of course, I do,” he reacted indignantly. “I’m an only child living with my parents who are full professors of Archaeology, Ancient languages, and Indo-European Mythology at Boston University. We have lived here in Boston all my life. I have no cousins because my parents were only children and all my grandparents are dead.” He shrugged, and spread his hands wide. “Accidents and sudden illnesses seem to follow my family, okay?”

  Chloe momentarily bit her bottom lip, looking straight into Anton’s eyes, she declared earnestly, “I can prove two things. One that your family name is Slayne, and two, that your paternal grandfather Arthur Slayne is alive and well. Anton - people close to you have been keeping secrets - don’t you think that now that you are eighteen you are old enough to know what those secrets are?”

  Anton took a step back mentally. What on earth was going on here? None of it made any sense and how on Earth did she know his age? “C’mon this is crazy,” he asserted. “You can’t be serious - this has to be a joke. Has someone put you up to this?”

  Chloe leaned back, crossing one long leg over the other. She steepled her fingers and affirmed, “Anton, I’m deadly serious.”

  “Huh?” Anton grunted. He didn’t want to believe it. She was either telling the truth or she was an extremely convincing liar.

  “Okay Anton,” Chloe offered. “I can see you’re feeling uncomfortable, and that’s not why we’re here.” She uncrossed her legs, and leaned forward, reaching her right hand part way across the coffee table. “I propose we show you the evidence we have, and you can make up your own mind. I promise you this, if you are not convinced, we will walk out your front door, and you will never see us again.” She looked straight into his eyes and smiled warmly. “Now, what could be fairer than that?”