mindful of the fact that they might be monitored and yet speaking the truth so that no doubt in his tone could be detected. Dracul would be defeated, not by any male, but by Annika. He was sure of that.
Mateo sneered. “That’s a nice slave mentality you’ve got there. Dafydd said you were raised in the…in Dracul’s home, so I guess it’s second nature for you to believe he’s invincible.” The human wasn’t stupid, apparently, having decided it was better not to speak of the Mad King too disparagingly.
Merlin kept his answer simple. “You’re thinking like a human. I may have some of that blood in my system, but I am of my father’s species. Obeying the one whom nature put above me in the social order is hard-wired into my DNA. I long to fulfill that role and it brings me peace to do so. You should try to emulate it. You’ll be happier for it in the long run.”
With a grimace, Mateo shut his eyes. “I doubt that. My goal is simply to stay alive.”
Until the rescue. Mateo didn’t say that part out loud, fortunately. It was implied, however, and Merlin couldn’t really blame the kid for the way his mind worked. Once Annika took over this world, the humans might learn to adapt to a new way of thinking. If not, they would soon find themselves displaced, then replaced, with his own kind. Their species was destined to fail, in his estimation, because they didn’t have enough of a hive mentality, for all that they flocked to demagogues. Their endless quest for individual triumphs would doom them in the end.
He said none of this, of course, nor did Mateo continue the conversation. By the evening out of his breathing, it was obvious that he’d fallen asleep. So Merlin knelt by Dafydd until the cold pack felt warm then he quietly left the room. He returned to the almost alcove-like space that had been assigned to him. There was no privacy, but that didn’t bother him. At least he didn’t have to sleep in the barracks with the mercenaries. He had also managed to scrounge a few changes of clothing from Andri, most of it too small—and slutty to boot. That was fine at the moment, suiting his purposes for the next part of his day.
Stripping off the T-shirt and jeans that were his, he ran some baby-wipes down his sweaty body and slipped on the silky pajama bottoms that served as pants. He left his torso and feet bare and his hair down. It was a bit ratty-looking at the moment, but that was okay. It made him look younger and less threatening, he figured. Despite being older than all of the mercenaries, he knew they saw him as just a kid. He counted on that working in his favor by making him seem like no one who could be a threat to them.
He took his time, heading to what served as the canteen to grab a disgusting meal served in a microwavable pouch. This place had been stocked to allow a large group to remain underground for a long time. Nothing was fresh and there was no one to cook, in any event. Andri did make meals from canned goods for the Master, but that service didn’t extend to anyone else. None of the mercenaries would lower himself to play the role of chef, and Merlin had been forced to fight off one who’d tried to forcefully insist that he should. So, he didn’t fuss over the wretched meal that he downed quickly while standing. A whole bottle of water later, he was ready for his walk-about.
He still didn’t go directly to his desired destination, instead meandering as if he were bored. When he reached the location, he peeked around, trying to appear as if he had no particular agenda. As with before, there was no one around, only the round, black ‘eyes’ of the cameras dotting the walls. It was impossible to know until he put it to the test whether anyone was currently on the other end of that surveillance. The cameras’ feeds might be simply stockpiled on a server that someone looked at now and again. The crew he’d been exposed to so far didn’t seem all that disciplined, and he’d yet to hear any order from the Mad King or his slutty minion about keeping watch or anything else that had formed the core of daily life back in Wales.