The Doomsday Device: The Castle Sisters, #5

By Jason Krumbine

It’s the final chapter in the Castle Sister’s battle against the villainous Agent Dark and the Tancredi Group.

Truths will be uncovered.

Lies will be revealed.

The End has arrived.

New York City is under siege and Agent Dark stands at the precipice of achieving everything he’s worked for. The world is within his grasp and the only people that stand in his way are Faith and Summer Castle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Krumbine
• Release date: Mar 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507099957

Jason Krumbine

Jason Krumbine loves to write! He's happily married and lives in Manhattan, NY where he enjoys reading in Central Park, going to movies and discovering new stand-up comedians. You can connect with Jason at either his website, www.jasonkrumbine.com, Facebook, Twitter (@jasonkrumbine) or good ole' fashion email [e-mail]. He's always up for a talk about the newest Star Trek movie or what's happening in the world of comic books and TV. 

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

200 Years Ago

She stood on the sandy beach, barefoot, watching the gentle waves roll in. Her toes flexed in and around the sand, relishing the tiny grains as they brushed up against her calloused skin. Taller than most men, she towered over many of them by at least a full head, she had thick, raven black hair that the wind would endlessly toss about. She paid no mind to the dark strands that would flick across her face. Her white dress, ordained with precious stones and hand knit patterns, hid a muscular build. Her skin had a deep tan from endless days out under the sun. Her eyes were cold, though, and, as anyone would attest to, their gaze chilled one's soul.

She heard the servant approach her from behind, as he shuffled his way through the sand. He lacked any and all subtlety. Eventually, he stopped a respectful few feet away. Countess?

She didn't respond at first and he waited patiently, as was his place.

She enjoyed the tropics here. The salty air seemed to revitalize her. Perhaps she would move here permanently, she mused. She quite liked the idea of men crossing an ocean for an audience with her.

The Countess took a deep breath, as though savoring the salty air, and then turned to face her servant. She gave him a slight nod and he proceeded with his message.

They are gathered and await your presence.

All of them? she asked.

Yes, my Countess.

Good. She looked back at the ocean once more. It was calm, gentle, relaxed. But in the distance, she could see the storm clouds slowly rolling in.

The Countess turned away and started back towards the compound. Her servant followed her without a word. They made the short walk in silence. The sand gave way to the wooden boardwalk, which gave way to the ancient stone path that led into the giant stone compound.

The residential rooms were towards the top of the compound. The Countess and her servant followed the winding staircase down into the underside of the building. Once they reached the end of the staircase the servant scuttled ahead and opened the heavy wooden doors for The Countess.

She lingered for a moment in the dim light of the torches as he announced her to the room.

Her grace, the Countess.

Around the large table sat six men. Three on one side of the table and three on the other. They all rose as she entered the room, bowing at their waists.

You all honor me with your presence, she said, making her way down the length of the table. The room looked massive, thanks to the vaulted stone ceiling that curved over them. Torches were mounted all along the walls, casting an eerie, yellow glow about the room. Every so often the flames would flicker sharply, reaching for the ceiling, but never quite touching it.

Countess, the man with the white beard said. "It is you who honors us."

She smiled demurely. Thank you, Duke.

She reached the head of the table. Her hands rested along the high back of the chair, but she made no move to sit.

Silence filled the room. The six men stood and waited patiently for the Countess to speak. No one expressed any discomfort or annoyance.

The Countess watched each man for a few seconds, as though measuring their worth. None dared to make eye contact with her.

Finally she nodded to her servant. He bowed slightly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The Countess sat. My father is dead.

The six men resumed their seats at the table.

You have our condolences, Countess, the Duke said.

She looked at him, catching his eyes and the Duke felt his blood chill.

I want no one's condolences, she said evenly. My father was a foolish man. He deserved his fate.

There was a muffled gasp of surprise from around the table.

My Countess, the man to her immediate left begin. He had pale green eyes that were set too close together.

What, Lord Flager? she snapped at him. What words of wisdom would you care to share with me in this hour of our lives? Perhaps a confession? Confession of how it was your incompetence that led my father to his death? Is that what you would like to share with us, Lord Flager?

Lord Flager turned bright red and fell silent.

That was not necessary, the Duke said with a firm tone.

The Countess locked eyes with him. Again, his blood chilled, but the Duke would not look away.

That is where you and I disagree then, she said. Because it was the trust that my father foolishly placed in this incompetent council that ultimately led to his death. I should hold you all responsible.

You speak from grief, the Duke told her.

I speak from truth.

Your father was simply following the path of his father and his father's father.

So you say that my father couldn't help himself? the Countess asked. That he was doomed to his fate before he uttered his first breath?

I am saying that you cannot hold us responsible for a paradigm that existed long before we did, the Duke replied evenly. We as a group have existed long before your father took the reins.

Yes, the Countess said. That has been on my mind of late. Our group's long lineage.

It is an honor to be a part of such a great history, the Duke said.

Is it? she mused. What have we accomplished since our ancestors founded this coalition?

Great wealth for us all, the Duke responded automatically. There is not a man at this table whose family has wanted for anything in over a thousand years.

How excellent for us. The Countess' tone was bitterly cold.

The Duke steepled his fingers and paused for a moment before continuing. Perhaps Her Grace should simply come forward with her thoughts, rather than leading us around on a merry chase.

She glanced at him and smirked. Well done, Duke.

You share your father's lack of subtlety, the Duke explained.

I share my father's vision, she replied.

And what vision is that? For you only just described your father as a man who died a victim of his own foolish whims, the Duke pointed out.

Make no mistake, my father was a foolish man, she continued. But his whims are not what failed him. He had a vision for us beyond just filling our coffers century after century.

Lord Cartigan, an older robust fellow who followed after his stomach, spoke up from the far end of the table. And what's wrong with filling our coffers? I dare say, it's a way of life that's been good to me and it'll be good for my grandchildren.

The Countess idly ran her finger across the table, tracing the swirling grain. And what if I told you there was something more for us than just wealth?

Lord Cartigan laughed. More than wealth? You're speaking of madness. Wealth is what makes this life worth living.

Perhaps then, you're not thinking big enough, Lord Cartigan, the Countess suggested. The world around us is expanding at an unbelievable pace. To simply look at this as just another means to expand our wealth is stupidly shortsighted.

The Duke frowned as the other five men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. He said in a low