Bloodlines: Ultimum: A Dead Hearts Novel, #8

By Susanne L. Lambdin

'People will do anything when they are desperate.'

 

Bloodlines: Ultimum, book 3, unfolds amidst the Battle of Miami. The Shirka are spread throughout the world, attacking every Syndicate-held city along with the Earth Corps strongholds. While Logan and Lenora travel to ancient Rome and Atlantis in search of a powerful weapon to use against the demons of the House of Balan, the enemy gains strength. Armies led by the Vescali Princes—Azazel and Samael—band together to fight Emperor Balan and his entourage of evil female demons and Caceri's army of the dead.

 

Picasso joins with the anidaemons from Atlantis on a mission to rescue the Moirai demon Ishtar and her sisters, who were released from the Babylonian Stones. Meanwhile, Mia D'Aquilla is possessed by a Moirai demon as Parish and Hansen are rejoined by the Blood Knights. With the arrival of Cadence and the Earth Corps, the forces of good have a chance to defeat the armies of darkness. Picasso, Logan, Parish, and Mia join at last in a final effort to defend the world from total annihilation. Emperor Balan means to rule the world, and this time, he does not intend to fail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanne Lambdin
• Release date: Oct 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393402237

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title Page

ALSO BY SUSANNE L. LAMBDIN

Dedication

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

About the Author

Excerpt

BLOODLINES:

ULTIMUM

A DEAD HEARTS NOVEL

by

Susanne L. Lambdin

Bloodlines - Ultimum

Copyright © 2018 by Susanne L. Lambdin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form, or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the email addresses below.

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Author’s Note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Bloodlines– Ultimum/Susanne L. Lambdin –1st Edition

ISBN: 9781729085615

ALSO BY SUSANNE L. LAMBDIN

A Dead Hearts Novel Series:

Morbid Hearts

Forsaken Hearts

Vengeful Hearts

Defiant Hearts

Immortal Hearts

Dead Hearts: Bloodlines

Exordium

Medius

Ultimum

The Realm of Magic Trilogy

Seeker of Magic

Mistress of Magic

Queen of Magic

ULTIMUM – The End

Dedicated to Little Beard and Gel E. Bean.

CONTENTS

STEPHEN

Florida - Present Day

Prologue

Thousands of Shirka swarmed the Wall, a fifty-foot high monstrosity made of cement and steel that protected the city of Miami. Outfitted with multiple guard towers that cradled gun turrets, Blood Syndicate soldiers fired on the misshapen super zombies and fought hand-to-hand on the battlements. Attack choppers from the nearby Air Force base swept across the sky, unable to hold back the tide of bloodthirsty monsters that scaled the Wall and breached the inner bulwark. Tanks blasted the zombies, but the creatures moved at an uncanny speed and ripped through the steel plates to feast on the living. Field artillery positioned behind a third barricade fell silent as the horde overwhelmed entire regiments, consuming vampire and human soldiers, and entered the city. Off the coast, five Cyclone class ships under the command of the Shirka’s leader, Milo, bombarded the city’s defenders gathered behind bulkheads on the beach. Miles of barbed wire and mines slowed the zombie pirates that waded ashore. Climbing over each other like insects, the creatures soon cleared the wire. Under heavy gunfire from Marines stationed in bunkers, the Shirkas encountered land mines that depleted their numbers, but more kept coming ashore. Marines, overwhelmed by the super zombies, soon joined their ranks and turned on their comrades, adding to the might of the horde as it swept forward.

Violence spread into the city streets, and citizens pulled from their vehicles and homes, added to the numbers of the living dead. The newly turned headed towards the Syndicate headquarters where the battle raged.

Outside the Miami Hospital, the remnants of the military and local police converged to fight in the parking lot. Through the screams and bloodshed, Stephen—a white werewolf from Colorado—raced down the third floor of the hospital. Personnel attempted to block the stairwells with furniture, paying no attention to the wolf as he slipped past. He had seconds to find Pallaton, the twin brother of Chief Chayton—his tribe’s leader—before the Shirka arrived. Pallaton was a vampire and until recently worked for the Syndicate. Injured days earlier when rebels attacked Council Rose’s home, Stephen knew the vampire was in one of the rooms. He spotted a nurse cowering behind a counter and ran towards her.

Where is Captain Pallaton?

The woman stared in horror, unable to answer. Her lips moved in silent prayer as her eyes watered. Stephen placed his paws on the counter, rising upwards, and glared. An orderly stepped out of a doorway, holding a crutch as a weapon. Stephen morphed into a man and held up his hands, glancing from the orderly back to the nurse.

Pallaton! Where is he? Stephen barked.

Room 314!

The nurse and orderly vanished into an office as Stephen turned back into a wolf. His ears pricked forward as he heard the elevator open and soon shrieks filled the hall. Stephen whined as he ran to Pallaton’s room, ignoring the three nurses and a doctor that ran past, pursued by a Shirka with the head of a bulldog. The hackles rose on Stephen’s back as he reached Pallaton’s door, frantically scratching at it before it was opened by the vampire.

Get in here! Pallaton, dressed in a Syndicate uniform, grabbed Stephen by the scruff of his neck and pulled the wolf into the room. He slammed the door shut before turning to glare at the werewolf. What the hell is going on, Stephen? Who is attacking the hospital?

The Shirkas have taken Miami, Stephen replied oddly calm. If you thought Lenora and Logan were coming to find you, then think again. They left with the Centauro rebels. We need to hurry.

What about Picasso? I can’t leave without him; he’s a Dark Angel.

Chayton ordered me to bring you home, and that’s what I’m going to do! Stephen snarled when Pallaton started to open the door. Not that way! Are you intentionally trying to get us both killed?

Pallaton glared. Where are the Syndicate guards posted outside my door? he asked.

Maybe you can ask one of the zombies.

Noises in the hallway became loud screams which prompted Pallaton to draw his gun from its holster. Stephen slid past the tall vampire and ran to the window while Pallaton placed a chair under the door latch. The vampire lifted his gun as fists pounded on the door.

Get that window open while I hold them off! Pallaton shouted.

That’s the idea. Stephen snapped as he morphed into a human.

He lifted the couch off the floor and threw it out the window. The glass shattered, fragments nipped his naked body and stuck in his long white hair. A strong coastal breeze entered the room at the same time a fist slammed through the door.

An eerie face, half-black and half-white, peered through the hole. The Shirkas had a disturbing habit of replacing rotten limbs with new ones or repairing their faces with borrowed skin taken from a fresh kill. The leader, Milo, was a patchwork of parts taken from other people, as hideous as a corpse left to rot in a morgue, though he moved with uncanny grace and strength, far superior to the rest. His mangled face appeared in the window with his eyes aglow, a burning red to match his blood-smeared lips.

I see you, Milo crooned.

LOGAN

Rome - 44 B.C.

Chapter One

The scent of death hung on the air, a putrid odor created by bodies hacked to pieces on the blood-drenched sand. Cheers and screams inside the Roman Coliseum reached a deafening pitch. Spitting out a mouthful of sand, Logan Bennett lifted his head, his ears still ringing from an earlier explosion. Plastic explosives were something the ancient Romans certainly had never seen before, and it took a few seconds for his mind to clear as he remembered how he and his mother Lenora had tumbled through a time portal into the arena.

One minute, they’d been standing inside Council Rose Standish’s office in Syndicate headquarters, staring at a monolith called a ‘Babylonian Stone,’ undecided whether to blow it up or not as ordered by the Centauro rebels—a worldwide terrorist organization who took great lengths to sabotage the Syndicate. The Syndicate was run by the Chancellor, a Vescali prince who had taken Logan’s identity and physical appearance, and whenever demons were involved, Logan knew evil plans were in the works. In fact, the monolith they had visited resided another demon, a Moirai demon called Kishar, also known as a Babylonian goddess. It was Kishar who had realized their intent and opened the portal to send Logan and Lenora back to Ancient Rome.

Logan scrutinized the damage created by the explosion. A ten-foot-wide hole splattered with the remains of a lion stood in the center of the arena. A dozen dead gladiators laid nearby, but they’d been slain before the explosion. His mother was being helped to her feet by a gladiator in Greek armor, who glanced at Logan with clear suspicion. As Logan stood to brush sand off his coveralls, he listened to the crowd roar. He imagined the Romans never expected to see two people tumble out of the sky, followed by a massive explosion, and no doubt, they thought the pair had arrived from Mt. Olympus. He twitched in alarm, his gaze landing on the far side of the arena.

Three male lions stood, taking a moment to recover from the shock of the blast. Each shook its furry head, sprang on the nearest corpse for a quick bite, and then viciously snarled when they noticed Logan, Lenora, and the lone Greek gladiator.

The crowd fell silent as another gate opened. Eight gladiators ran out, armed with swords and shields with images of octopi, lions, wolves, and winged demons engraved on the front. The Greek gladiator retrieved a trident and net off the ground, handed the items to Lenora, and knelt to grab a spear and sword from underneath a charred body. Logan spotted pieces of his handgun in the sand. He’d shot a lion seconds before the explosion and now was left defenseless against the new threat. Wordlessly, he accepted the spear from the Greek while ten thousand Romans renewed their screams for blood.

A lion pounced on one of the gladiators before he was able to defend himself. The rest of the fighters paired off to fight with their eyes scanning the crowd. No one helped the fallen man. As swords clanked, the men grunted and bled. The other two lions raced across the sand but paused to feed on dead bodies, their eyes on the fighters.

Who is your new friend, Mother? Logan asked. Every time he moved, the largest lion with a scar that ran the length of its muzzle stopped munching and growled deep in its throat. Sweat gathered on his forehead as he considered whether he was able to kill the beast.

I think you should be more worried about the fact we’re in the Coliseum, Lenora stated. Logan didn’t think she knew how to handle a net and trident. Her brown eyes turned bright amber, and her fangs descended when he failed to reply. Did you hear me, son? Kishar sent us to the Coliseum!

I’m aware of where we are, Mother. He adjusted his hold on his spear. What I don’t know is why Kishar would send us back here? She could have sent us anywhere, in any period, and yet she chose this one. It can’t be a coincidence. We must be here for a reason. His gaze cut between her, the silent gladiator at her side, and the lions feasting not far away. Do you think this man will fight for us or against us?

We saved his life, Lenora said glancing at the Greek. I suggest you act like the Blood Knight you used to be, Logan. We’re not out of the woods yet.

Kishar? the Greek gladiator growled.

Yeah, that’s right, Logan blurted. Do you speak our language?

Kishar, he licked his lips, finishing hoarsely, friend.

We can be your friends, Lenora replied though Logan eyed him with suspicion. Was he saying Kishar was a friend of his? Before he could ask, his mother introduced them. This is Logan, my son, and I’m Lenora. Kishar sent us here through a portal. We . . . she shrugged looking sheepish, shouldn’t be here, but we are. If you can help us find the nearest Babylonian Stone, we’d be grateful.

Friends . . . a lion roared too close for comfort, and the Greek turned towards the sound, fight!

Logan stared at the gladiator. He spoke limited English, which seemed impossible since it was not a spoken tongue until the 5th century. He wasn’t sure what year it was, but if Kishar had a reason for her madness, he assumed it was 44 B.C., the same year Julius Caesar was assassinated. His friend, Picasso from the Dark Angels, had mentioned he’d worked for the Syndicate’s Time-Travel Department. A fellow TTD agent named Parish had led a team to 44 B.C. to retrieve Caesar for the Chancellor who saved famous historical figures from execution to sit on his High Council. The TTD agents had met with cloned hunter agents from Vescali, Inc., a rival corporation headed by the Chancellor’s younger brother, Samael. If the date was right, and Agent Parish and her team were scheduled to arrive soon, then Logan and Lenora might be able to join them and return home through a monolith.

He considered the gladiator, noticed the darkness of his skin, the bulging muscles, and the way the armor didn’t quite fit his enormous body. The helmet sat scrunched onto his big, fat head, and through the narrow slits in the face shield, Logan saw glowing red eyes. The only thing the gladiator had in common with the Greeks was his armor. If the gladiator spoke a modern language, Logan assumed he was a demon, a god, or a time-traveler, but he’d have to wait to hear his story.

The crowd cheered as the Greek stomped across the sand and butchered two fighters from behind; not an honorable act, though it was effective. Two hacks from his short sword cut through armored spines, and blood sprayed across his face. Lenora stayed with the Greek, in the role of a shield maiden, while Logan kept his eyes on the scarred lion.

Logan, watch out! Lenora cried suddenly.

Logan raised his spear as the five remaining gladiators huddled together, glanced in their direction, and separated. Their intentions were clear—they had decided to work together to kill the Greek, Logan, and Lenora. As the fighters rushed toward them, two of the lions attacked the gladiators from behind. A rear attack seemed the best tactic, and Logan watched the lions work together to take down a tall, hairy man in a golden horned helmet. One beast jumped onto the man’s back, while its companion took a chunk out of his thigh. The man’s screams pierced the air, and he fell to his side, trying without success to stab the beast.

The third lion stared at Logan with an evil gleam in its eyes that made him think it was personal between them. The beast dropped an arm in its jaws and raced across the sand toward him. His mother and the Greek stood together to fight the other four gladiators. Logan pulled back the spear and launched it. He watched as it sped through the air and punched through the lion’s chest. Cautious, he leaned over to grab a sword from the ground. His boots felt heavy as he ran toward the wounded lion and stabbed it through the heart. From out of the corners of his eyes, Logan spotted a gladiator wearing a helmet designed with a demon face approaching with his sword raised.

Not nice, Logan snarled.

The gladiator didn’t reply and hacked at Logan with his weapon like a butcher, showing no real talent, except he was strong. Each time the man lifted and raised his sword, Logan sidestepped the blow. As a vampire, Logan’s speed was unmatched by humans. Each spin Logan made put him out of harm’s way, while the gladiator staggered forward, wasting energy, and continued to slice at the air. When the man tired further, Logan drove his sword through his opponent’s breastplate. He released the pommel, stood back, and watched the gladiator take a nosedive to the ground. Logan yanked the sword free, waved it in the air to encourage the Romans to shout even louder, and laughed when women started to throw flowers into the arena.

Shame this isn’t televised, Logan muttered. He turned to find his mother in the middle of the action.

The Greek fought two gladiators while his mother fought an albino with numerous scars that ran the length of his muscular arms. The albino used a club with spikes, and whenever he swung it like a hammer, his mother jabbed with the trident and used the net to try to ensnare the man’s feet. Lenora showed some skill, but her opponent was a champion, and his next swing slammed into her thigh. She screamed as she fell to the ground.

Logan lowered his head and ran toward the albino as the mace lifted and tackled him to the ground as the weapon narrowly missed his mother’s head. The gladiator’s helmet flew off. Logan stared at a face that resembled a beast, not a man, and scrambled away to avoid a fist to the face. He jumped to his feet, and before the albino was able to stand, he swung his sword and lopped off its grizzly head.

With his eyes aglow and fangs descended, Logan ran toward the next gladiator that traded sword swings with the Greek. A second gladiator jabbed at the Greek with a spear and pierced his thigh. Logan approached the swordsman from behind, grabbed his helmet, held tight onto a strap, and spun his head around backward. The loud snap dropped the fighter to his knees. A hard kick from Logan sent the man flying across the arena, and he landed in a tangled mass of arms and legs.

Lenora managed to rise to her feet. She threw the net at the Greek’s opponent then used the spear to wrap it around the man’s legs before she sprang forward. When the gladiator hit the sand face first, she jumped onto his back, leaned down, and sunk her fangs into the back of his neck. Blood was needed to heal his mother’s injuries, and while she fed, Logan stood nearby and scrutinized the arena. Except for the Greek gladiator, all the new fighters were dead.

The last two lions chose that moment to attack. Logan ducked as a lion with a black mane leaped into the air and landed on the Greek’s back, knocking him to the ground. While the man and lion rolled across the ground, Logan jumped onto the second lion’s back and drove his sword through its head. He climbed off as it collapsed and turned at the sound of a roar. The lion dug its claws into the huge man’s massive shoulders and opened its jaws wide to bite. Two large hands seized hold of the lion’s jaw and with a hard yank, ripped the muzzle sideways and tossed the beast aside like a rag doll. The Greek stood, threw his arms into the air, and snarled as he turned to face Logan and Lenora.

Take it easy, Lenora said, standing, her face slick with blood and her palms extended upward in retreat. I thought we were friends. We don’t want to hurt you, big guy. We are vampires. It won’t take much to take you down.

He doesn’t speak English, Mother. Just flash your fangs, Logan hissed. I think he’ll get the idea and stand down.

Despite the lacerations from the lion’s claws and numerous sword cuts, the Greek remained fit enough to continue to fight. His reaction caught Logan and Lenora by surprise. With a hearty laugh, the gladiator held his hands out before him as he approached the pair. He took hold of their wrists, and then yanked their arms into the air as the crowd cheered.

Friends, the gladiator grunted.

See there, Lenora said. He speaks a little English.

Logan rolled his eyes. Okay, so he’s intelligent. Now what? Do we make a run for it or wait to see what these Romans will do next?

A door opened before Lenora responded. Ten Roman guards trotted forward, each carrying spears and large gold shields. The crowd grew silent.

You fought well, the gladiator said a little clearer than before. He released their arms.

I hope the Romans agree, Lenora muttered under her breath. Even in her disarrayed state, she was a beautiful woman and showed no fear. Who are you? What… she eyed the Greek with apprehension, are you?

I am a Tarqali. They call me Tacticus. My master, Flavius Quintus, hosts this day’s fight in honor of great Caesar!

A demon? Lenora whispered. Logan, he’s a Tarqali demon.

I heard him.

Logan kept his eyes on the approaching Romans. There had to be a good explanation for why a Tarqali demon fought in the Coliseum. The demon pointed at the pavilion where Julius Caesar, Marc Antony, and five senators sat with their wives. When he turned back, the Roman guards surrounded them and lowered their spears in warning.

"Vos mos adveho nobis," a guard with a red plume said.

Go with them, Tacticus translated. Caesar will want to meet you.

But we need to talk to you, Lenora whispered.

I will find you.

The gladiator waved at the crowd a final time. Flowers showered the large demon as he trotted out of the arena. The guards led Logan and Lenora across the reddened sand to stand below the pavilion and saluted Caesar by striking their arms across their chest and extending their arms outwards. Caesar stood and smiled at the crowd’s reaction. Logan thought the man noble in bearing, with intense gray eyes and a wreath of white hair. He wore a white tunic, draped with purple, and a large gold necklace. Pictures of the Caesar in the 21st century, under the guise of Council Bakau, looked nothing like this man. It had to be the toga, Logan thought, trying to hide his laugh. He assumed the handsome general beside Caesar was Marc Antony. Caesar’s closet friend didn’t appear as impressed as the senators to meet Logan and Lenora, and turned, a goblet of wine in hand, to address one of the women.

Bow, you idiot, Lenora snapped in the sudden silence.

His mother nudged Logan after making her command. He watched her tap her hand to­­ her forehead and bow. Logan resented that fact he was supposed to posture himself before the dictator. He remained with his head held high and heard the women giggle. He knew limited Latin from his school days and while working with his father, Sam Bennet, and his partner, Stan Parrish, who had worked for the NYPD. Most of his life, he’d tracked down and killed supernatural creatures, but he never thought he’d need to rely on Latin to communicate with Julius Caesar.

"Es vos filiolus? Caesar asked. Dico nos vestri nomen. Nos veneratio vos per a epulum nox noctis."

With a hand over his heart, Logan knew enough of the language to know he’d been asked his name and offered his best Latin in return. "Logan est meus nomen," he said, and gestured toward his mother. "Is est meus matris. Nos es viator superum."

What did you say? Lenora asked in a whisper.

I introduced us and said we’re ‘messengers of the gods.’ At least I think I did. Logan heard laughter and glanced at Marc Antony who gave his mother a lewd look. If you have Tarqali here, then one of you surely speaks English. Great Caesar, you’re an intelligent man. Care to help us out?

We’re friends, Lenora said. She kissed her fingers and held them out toward the dictator. Friends of Caesar . . . At a low cough, she added quickly, And Marc Antony. She turned her head in Logan’s direction, He’s very handsome.

Knock it off, Logan whispered, furious at the way his mother flirted. Locked in a prison cell in the hell dimension for the last eight centuries, Lenora tended to flirt with every available man. She’d already seduced Pallaton, and now it seemed she had her sights set on General Antony.

Caesar stood, a smile on his face, and beckoned them forward. A fifteen-foot wall was all they had to clear, and it took Lenora no effort to jump into the pavilion. Marc Antony stood and placed his hand on his sword while Lenora faced Caesar. The women fell back into their seats; the senators gasped and cowered in fear. Antony laughed and took hold of Lenora’s hand, turned it over, and then lifted it to his face. He kissed her palm, released her hand, and leaned toward Caesar to whisper. Furious, Logan leaped into the air and landed clumsily inside the pavilion. He fell onto the lap of a senator, flashed his fangs, and quickly stood.

"Daemones sunt," Caesar said.

It seems Caesar thinks we are demons, Logan replied.

I caught it, his mother replied with some sass, her attention on Antony.

Caesar motioned for his friends to remain calm and turned to a fat, greasy man with a bald head wearing a green tunic. "Flavius consenserit gladiatoris sinit nos ad prandium," he said. "Loquere ad servum meum in lingua tua."

The fat man nodded.

We’re to dine at Caesar’s tonight with Tacticus, Logan translated slowly.

I do know a little Latin, Logan. He also said a slave speaks our language. Lenora took hold of Logan’s arm; aware Roman guards had arrived and stood on either side of the pavilion. It must be another supernatural like Tacticus. Just smile.

A male slave in a wig of braided dark hair, who was tall, thin, with bluish veins close to the skin approached. He bowed before Logan and Lenora. Logan recognized a filthy Vescali when he saw one.

I am Sabnock, the slave said in English. I come from the Great Island.

You must mean Atlantis, Lenora replied not yet realizing what type of demon stood before them.

Yes, I do. The gladiator, Tacticus, is a Tarqali demon, Sabnock said.

We’re not stupid, Logan snapped.

The dictator spoke again and waited for the slave to translate. One of the senators and his wife slipped away and vanished through an archway. It created an exodus, and the rest of Caesar’s guests quickly left, however, Antony remained with the dictator. He put food on a marble seat, took a glass of wine from a slave, and offered it to Lenora. She accepted, took a sip, and returned it to Antony with a smile.

Great Caesar entrusts you to my care, Sabnock said, his voice lacking any emotion. He knows no one speaks English in Rome, who is not a demon, and while the Romans recognize the language, they seldom use it. There are far more demons here than you think. Caesar will have many questions for you.

Tell your master that we heard about his great victory in Gaul, Logan said. Tell him the gods of Mt. Olympus support his military might and approve of his leadership qualities, and they sent us here to show their support. Say nothing else, or I’ll know, Sabnock. I speak Latin.

Badly at best, Sabnock replied with slight humor.

Caesar calmly listened to the Vescali explain who they were, though Logan knew trusting a Vescali was not a good idea. The reason he was a vampire was due to a Vescali priest knifing him in the back in England in the 1340s. Another time-travel fiasco, he thought. Fortunately, his friend Rafe, a vampire-maker, had bitten him a second later after a wraith tried to drain his blood. It was better to be a vampire, he thought, than a corpse. Logan smiled at Caesar and suppressed the urge to scratch his beard, now thick with sand lice.

Caesar and Antony whispered as they left the pavilion with the guards.

Sabnock extended his hand. I am to escort you to Caesar’s home where you will be bathed and groomed, he explained Tacticus will join us later this evening. Caesar thought it best I tend to your needs. He wants a full explanation why you are here, of course. I suggest you tell me the truth, as I never lie to my master.

You’re lying right now, Logan pointed out.

Not all Vescali are evil, son. Sabnock seems nice enough.

The demon laughed and revealed sharp teeth. Come with me, dear lady, he said offering his arm. I will take you to Caesar’s villa. Confide in me, and I will be better able to help you. I already know you came through a Moirai Stone, and one is obviously close by, for that is how they work.

What is the date, Sabnock? Lenora asked. She transferred her grasp to the demon’s arm and walked with him toward a staircase. Logan walked behind them.

It is March 13th, 44 B.C., Sabnock replied. If you are here, then it must be for an important reason. There is no such thing as a coincidence. Please tell me which Moirai sent you here. From your dress, I can tell you come from the 21st century, for I have been there several times. I am eager to know what has happened in the future.

Mom, don’t get chummy. We may have to kill Sabnock, Logan whispered for her ears alone.

I can handle it from here, dearest.

Slipping away from the Vescali slave was easy enough, only Logan didn’t think his mother wanted to leave the company of the creepy demon. In the corridor outside the arena, Logan removed his coveralls. He dropped them to the floor and watched people stare as they passed while his mother did the same. Sabnock procured a tunic for Logan to change into to replace his jacket and slacks. His mother tossed aside her jacket and let the Vescali wrap a long strip of blue material around her body as she replaced her boots with sandals. Logan did not intend to replace perfectly good boots with flimsy sandals; instead, he eyed a rack of weapons that hung on the wall, while the oozing creature chatted with his mother about the current politics.

Five guards, all seasoned veterans from Antony’s 13th Legion, appeared to provide escort and helped push people aside as they left the Coliseum. The clothing Logan and Lenora wore allowed them to blend in with the crowd. Logan walked behind his mother and the demon, astonished at the beauty of Rome, and smelled freshly baked bread among the many odors of the city. Clouds lying low in a bright blue sky offered a shaded view of cobblestone streets and white marble temples with slender pillars. Statues of the gods from Mt. Olympus, along with Egyptian sphinxes taken in battle, appeared in alcoves and at intersections.

Stucco villas painted in bright shades of red, orange, and yellow lined either side of the street chosen by Sabnock, and from the way Lenora reacted, she found the ancient city enchanting too. The Romans tramped behind them, a constant reminder that kept things in perspective for Logan. While Sabnock pointed out large wooden doors with metal studs and large knockers and provided Lenora with the names of the owners of each villa, Logan regarded the citizens that ranged from the rich to the poor with apathy. Children played in the streets, stray dogs searched for scraps, and beggars sat on a low wall, shaking their bowls, but he had no time for them and wanted to reach Caesar’s palace to confirm it housed the Roman Stone

Not everyone is pleased Caesar is now a dictator. Sabnock pointed out graffiti written in red paint on the wall. People mourn the loss of the Republic.

Why are you here? Logan asked. Did Samael send you here to prevent the TTD agents from extracting Caesar tomorrow? That’s the only thing that makes sense. Lenora, this demon is a spy. Let’s just kill him and find someplace to wait for Parish.

Ah, you think I work for Samael.

I don’t think it. I know it!

Logan, please, Lenora said looking at him. We’re having a nice chat.

A line of priestess walked down the road. Sabnock pointed out the temple of Gaia, the Earth Mother. Logan didn’t care about the religion of the times until a priest with designs painted in blue on his face and hands started to rant. He waved his arms and shouted at Logan in a foreign language. A few listeners turned away as a small boy picked up a rock and threw it at the priest. Logan turned to bare his fangs at the boy and laughed when he ran off.

The Vescali stopped at a vendor’s stall to purchase avocados. The Roman soldiers waited in the shade of a stall. Lenora joined Logan as he stood a few feet away. He was surprised to see the demon had purchased jewelry for her to wear. Gold hung from her earlobes, and she wore a necklace with green gems.

Parish will arrive in two days, Lenora whispered. I have been taking notes, Logan. I’m not that inclined to trust Sabnock.

From what Picasso told me, the TTD agents will arrive in the Forum minutes before his assassination and replaced Caesar with a Beta clone. It’s not Parish who retrieves Caesar, but Blake’s team who takes him through the monolith to Star Castle in the 1920s. Parish, Hansen, and Ramsay are unable to carry out their mission when Vescali, Inc. agents arrive on the scene. Montagu leads the hunter agents. I remember him quite well, Mother. The TTD agents are Blood Knights . . . he swallowed the lump in his throat, my friends. I’m sure they’ll be surprised to find out the Chancellor is not who he says he is.

Do you think Kishar sent us here to prevent it from happening? she asked.

Perhaps, Logan said with a shrug. What are a Vescali and Tarqali doing here? I can’t help thinking they work for Samael. I admit, I’m confused. The Tarqali are the sworn enemies of the Vescali. If I can talk to Tacticus in private, I might be able to find out what is going on and even convince his people to lend a hand in the future. The Tarqali are bred to be fighters, while the Vescali are cunning little shits who stir the pot. Both demon species fought for and against Prince Balan through the centuries. It depended on their moods and what pantheon of gods they attacked. I want to be careful we don’t change history. I don’t want to make things worse.

Babylonians have already fallen from power. The real Kishar is in hiding somewhere, Lenora said. Maybe she sent us here to warn her younger self what will happen in the future. Did you think of that?

Logan nodded. I’ve thought about many things, he said. Samael, Azazel, and Lilith are prisoners in Caceri. Kishar and Ishtar are the only two Moirai on the loose. The Chancellor uses the Vescali to track down any immortal who managed to slip through his fingers. I suppose Poseidon, Apollo, and Vulcan are around too. If we could reach Mt. Olympus, they might help us. Later, they join the Earth Corps. It’s not like we’d be doing anything wrong. I mean, what does it take to alter the future? We’re already here, and that has to cause a kind of ripple in the time continuum.

I’m new to time-travel, same as you, she said. You dropped something, honey.

Lenora picked up a folded piece of paper. Logan knew immediately it had fallen out of a secret pocket he’d found earlier in the side of his tunic. It was a letter from Rose, written as if she was the Chancellor of the Syndicate, asking the TTD agents for help in the 21st century. He’d stolen the letter off Rose’s secretary’s desk, thinking it might be important, since it did prove that Rose hadn’t entirely turned against the Earth Corps. He wanted to show it to Parish and get the man’s input on what happened in the future. Logan had known Agent Paul Parish when he was a boy. Parish’s uncle was his father’s partner, and a damn good NYPD detective until the Syndicate recruited him in the 1960s.

What is that? Lenora asked watching as he fiddled with the paper.

Proof Rose wanted the TTD to investigate the Chancellor, he said. I think she meant to send it to Parish, to get him interested in learning the real identity of the Chancellor and expose him as an imposter. Opening the letter to show his mother, Logan was surprised to find it blank. His mother snorted, unimpressed, and turned away. He scowled. Maybe it’s written in invisible ink. In the sunlight, the words vanish but squeeze a little lemon juice on the paper, and the words will appear. Under the fluorescent lights in Rose’s office, I saw it, Mother. Rose made it look like the Chancellor was worried someone conspired against him. Now, why would she do that, if not to get Parish to consider the matter?

Honey, I know you loved Rose, Lenora said, taking the letter out of his hand. I want to think she was a good woman too. If you could somehow save her in the future, that’s one thing, but it’s not with a blank letter.

The demon returned with a basket of avocados, and they continued to Caesar’s home. Logan thought about his parents, how Lenora had left Sam for another man, who turned out to be Prince Balan in disguise. It was strange how their lives were all tied to Prince Balan, one way or another. Logan reached for the letter at the same time one of the guards snatched it out Lenora’s hand. She struck at the man’s chest, but he pushed her aside, stepped back behind his men, and proceeded to stuff it down the top of his cuirass before he continued down the road with the other guards.

Why didn’t you stop him? That belonged to me, Logan said. He looked for the guard, but he was nowhere in sight. That’s just great. Thanks.

I tried to get it back, Lenora said.

Logan noticed Sabnock studied him intently. The Vescali didn’t ask about the note or comment where their escort had gone, and instead took Lenora by the arm and walked on. They turned a corner. The sun broke from the clouds and shined upon a tall man with copper hair. Logan glanced at the man and gasped.

Lachlan! Hey! Over here!

Feeling like a fool, Logan waved at Cadence’s boyfriend, trying to get the Irish immortal’s attention. It had to be Lachlan, he thought, for he was able to see 21st-century apparel beneath his toga. Two more men accompanied Lachlan. He wasn’t sure, but it looked like Agent Parish and Cameron, the young Scot who had joined the Blood Knights. He’d thought Parish would arrive with Hansen and Ramsay, but it didn’t’ matter, as long as he was there, and two days early. Why Parish and Cameron traveled with one of the Earth Corps members struck Logan as odd, and he figured he’d get answers as soon as he talked to his friends. He pushed his way through the crowd and lost sight of the trio when they turned to vanish down the same street taken by the Roman guard who had stolen Rose’s letter.

Logan, come back, Sabnock cried.

The Vescali was the least of Logan’s concerns, and he pressed forward, darting around bodies, trying to make headway through the crowd. Not caring who he shoved out of the way, or the fact he overturned tables filled with vegetables and fresh loaves of bread, and vendors shouted in anger, he remained in hot pursuit. Through the crowd, he spotted Parish and the two redheads vanish down an alley. He dashed around the corner, certain they’d stop when they saw him, and entered the alley to find only a small boy and a dog seated in a doorway. The boy suddenly pointed upwards, and Logan lifted his gaze to see the three figures running along the tiled rooftops.

Reacting on impulse, Logan jumped into the air and landed on the roof in a crouched position. He was able to see Parish, Lachlan, and Cameron jump across the street and land on another building. He gave pursuit.

Wait! Parish! It’s me! Logan Bennett!

The small blonde man spun around, his brows knitted together. He lifted a PLR-1 rifle and fired. Logan dove to the roof as a streak of red plasma struck the tiles in front of him. From his prone position, he watched as the trio turned and ran across the rooftops and vanished from sight. It couldn’t be Parish, Logan thought. The number one rule Picasso and Pallaton had told him about the Syndicate’s TTD was they never used the plasma rifles on retrieval missions. His father, Sam, had told him long ago that Paul Parish, the nephew of his partner Stan Parish, was a stickler for protocol. He felt certain the younger Parish would not break the rules. However, if it wasn’t Paul Parish, then it wasn’t Lachlan and Cameron either, and he suddenly realized who he had seen. They were the hunter agents from Vescali, Inc., copies of people that came out of the Babylonian Stones, not manufactured Syndicate clones, sent to sabotage the TTD agents from retrieving Caesar.

Logan hadn’t known the monoliths were able to copy immortals, like Lachlan, and knew he was onto something important. Mulling it over, he returned to where he’d left Lenora and Sabnock. His mother looked worried, but Sabnock was furious.

Sorry to worry you. I thought I recognized someone. Guess I was wrong.

Who could you possibly know in Rome? Sabnock demanded. I thought you two came alone. Did someone else come with you?

No, no one else, Lenora said trying to defuse the tension. Let’s get to the villa, Sabnock.

Logan took hold of Lenora’s arm, keeping her close as they proceeded along the avenue, his eyes searching the rooftops for the three figures in black. I thought it was Parish, he whispered to her after a few minutes. I’m sure it was Vescali, Inc. hunter agents. We need to be careful, and we need to locate the real Parish and warn him.

This has already happened, Logan. We don’t have to meddle with the timeline. We can’t alter events that have already occurred. Don’t run off again.

It was the concern in her eyes and the strength of her grip that left him pausing in his reply to her. For the first time since he was a boy, Logan saw Lenora as his mother; it wasn’t simply a name to call her by. At the age of thirty-three, despite everything he’d been through, a bit of maternal concern felt strangely good. He hadn’t realized Lenora actually loved him until that moment, and with her hand on his arm, Logan did not want to fail his mother; he wanted her to be proud of him.

While he had blamed Kishar for sending them to ancient Rome, now his entire outlook on life and his mother had changed. He no longer blamed his mother for leaving his father for Prince Balan, nor thought her weak or petty. Lenora was one of the strongest women he had ever known, and though he wasn’t sure he wanted to thank Kishar for sending him to the past, she had also restored his faith in himself. All this time he’d felt he had no place in the world, that he’d been overlooked, forgotten, and shoved into a corner. But he was wrong.

The world needed him, and he was going to make a difference. He’d discover why Kishar sent them to ancient Rome, try to contact Parish, and do whatever it took to put an end, once and for all, to the House of Balan.

PARISH

Rome - Modern Day

Chapter Two

Under the cover of night, Parish arrived at the Italian villa outside of Rome, accompanied by fellow TTD agents—Sinclair, Dunbar, Cameron, Ramsay, and Bonneville. They’d lost Blake and Clarence in the town of Riana after they were attacked by three Moirai demons and a horde of zombies. She’d hated both men for their small-mindedness, cruelty, and sheer stupidity. Both men had caused numerous problems for the TTD over the last decade by not following orders. She doubted when Blake and Clarence had served Grand Master Logan in the 1340s as Blood Knights, vampires sworn to defend humans, that they had acted any differently.

The nine Blood Knights who had joined the TTD were called the ‘Old Guards,’ and yet a third member, Montagu, had joined Samael and betrayed his friends. Parish was not a Blood Knight, nor a vampire-demon like her companions, or even a man, but she did have a code of honor. Only Hansen, one of the Old Guards, knew she was a hermaphrodite. The Chancellor had not wanted women to serve as TTD agents, for the simple fact he didn’t trust females. Parish had pretended to be a man all her life, even when human, and continued to do so out of sheer self-preservation.

Keep up the pace, Sinclair said as he led the way into Villa Cripta, holding a PLR-1 to his shoulder.

It looks okay, Sinclair called out. No one is here. Are you glad now that I talked you out of going to the airport, Parish?

Not really. Hansen is there, and I’m worried about him, Parish said, keeping her gaze averted. She was extremely worried about Hansen, who she was in love with, yet had abandoned. Hansen wanted to destroy the Syndicate while she remained unsure how to proceed. It meant everything that Hansen loved her for who she was, but she was unsure whether he’d forgive her seeking out Bakau to warn the Council about the attack on Rome instead of going with the rebels to the airport.

We’re all worried about Hansen, lad, Ramsay replied. I wish you two hadn’t gone and joined up with the Centauro rebels. The others shifted their weight in unease. "I understand why you did