The chairman kept his expression unreadable as he and the others sat with their eyes closed. A thin veneer of calm masked his smoldering rage. There had been blood famines before. He and his kind would rise again.
The chairman made a tent in front of his mouth with his fingers and drew a ragged breath to steady himself. He peered down at the table, exhausted. His fellow councilmen were so frightened and weary that telepathy was impossible. Their minds were guarded, each sure that he would siphon them for their last reserves of strength. He briefly closed his eyes. It had come to this. Cannibalism in chambers. He never thought he'd witness that during his reign. To put their fears to rest, one last debate before stasis was in order. Council had to remain united; no assassinations at the table to further dredge the empire of power. "We must act, now."
"Rivera had been groomed for greatness," the councilman to his left said. "That loss is not replaceable in such a short time."
The chairman nodded very slowly. "But it also gives me great pleasure to know that infidel, Rivera, burned layer by layer in the sun." He let his breath out slowly, the memory of Carlos Rivera's duplicity still haunting him.
"The Neteru vessel has become beyond problematic," the councilman to the chairman's right said. "Do not underestimate this millennium Neteru's effectiveness, despite her youth. That has, to date, been our weakness."
"We may have to detain her in Hell for the next six years until she ripens again, then fill the territories after her abduction." The chairman drew a shaky breath. "The were-demons, Amanthras, and all the upper levels are slowly coming to realize that the hour of dawn is upon our empire. They do not respect nor fear us as they should."
"To take her hostage would be risky," the councilman to his right said cautiously. "With our forces weakened, warrior angels may come for her. I wouldn't put it past them to breach our borders and with the Armageddon so near..."
"Yes," the councilman to his left said quickly. "I say that we cannot afford another harpies inquisition. The response after losing three council thrones, plus our most formidable topside sources, have drawn horrendous questions about our level-six leadership capacity, to the point where-"
"I donot need to be reminded of our position," the chairman spat, rubbing his hands down his face with frustration. "We can torture Damali Richards's spirit to keep her from exacting a heavy toll on our remaining empire. Seal her body in disease, keep her womb inviolate, and make her a-"
Both councilmen shook their heads, stopping the chairman midsentence. The bolder of the two took up the argument, however his voice was frail with fear and the need to feed.
"We all know that to ensure that the Neteru conceives, she must willingly accept our seed. But if her spirit is damaged and her body is-"
"Enough!" the chairman shouted, his facade of calm shattering as he expended precious energy. "If we cannot find a seducer, she is of no use to us and I want her heart in the middle of my council table! I want her to writhe in agony as the harpies did to us in these very chambers! The f**king harpies were wrong!"
The two councilmen drew back from the table, setting their thickening goblets of blood down carefully. The chairman stood, eased away from the table, and held on to the back of his throne, knowing he'd spoken too loudly and without enough reverence when he mentioned the harpies.
Immediately, the floor just inside council chambers quaked, the marble cracking and yawning a huge fissure that shook the walls, made the few torches that were lit extinguish, rumbled furniture out of place, and made the weakened transport bats clinging to crags in the high ceiling above the pentagram table try to fly and seek cover.
The chairman held his breath as yellow sulfur smoke billowed up in a furious volcanic hiss. He waited with dread, knowing the foul little gargoylelike creatures would soon slither over the edge of the gaping cavern. He knew in seconds their vile black tongues would lacerate him and the two remaining councilmen, siphoning information from their skulls, through their ears, noses, and every orifice on their battered bodies, just as they'd done for nearly four relentless hours well into dawn and beyond it, refusing to allow them to regenerate.
The councilman to the left of him clutched the edge of the table, bracing for the small gray-green bodies to fill chambers, rushing in like a putrid wave, leathery wings flapping, spiked tails slashing everything in their wake, their razor-sharp black horns a torment to the frayed hems of their once-majestic vampire robes. His eyes filled with tears. The more junior councilman who always sat to the chairman's right put his head down on the table and wept as his bowels voided. The chairman set his jaw hard, preparing for the onslaught. Never, except once, in his entire existence had he ever experienced such personal and professional humiliation-and right after the Paradise fiasco, it had not been before subordinates like this.
However, he knew he had to be hallucinating as he trained his unblinking gaze on the pit that had opened in his chamber floors. Instead of harpies rising in a swarm from it, a familiar face did.
She was gorgeous, just as she'd always been. Her smooth, olive-toned complexion looked like refined glass. Her dark, smoky eyes were mysterious and seductive, set above perfectly chiseled cheekbones. Her presence was mesmerizing, her mouth lush, begging one to taste it. Her shoulder-length wavy black hair seemed to be spun from velvet. Her body was that of a goddess. She was sheathed in an iridescent black gown, the neckline a deep plunge to reveal her ample br**sts, the slit up the side showing her shapely legs as she sauntered forward. She smiled, giving them a discreet quarter inch of fang.
"Mr. Chairman," she crooned, "it has been a long time. But you should measure your words if you are going to speak so loudly."
"Lilith," he murmured, "I am so glad it was you who came."
"Actually, I haven't yet this morning, but if you can bring yourself to clear chambers..." she said in a sultry voice, her eyes now glowing red as she motioned to the other councilmen.
Without waiting for the chairman to tell them to leave, the two high-ranking officials stood, nodded at her with appreciation, and then vanished to the private inner chamber vaults. Their need to regenerate, and eagerness to get away from any potentially bad outcome at the table, left a residue of fear in the room.
"Mr. Chairman," she said, coming to the table as he slowly rounded it to meet her.
"Dante," he said, his voice dropping seductively to match hers. "There have never been any formalities between us."
He turned and filled his goblet for her, then transformed into a more youthful version of himself, and handed her the offering of blood. She was worth the energy drain, even if his two councilmen starved later for it.
She accepted the goblet he'd offered with grace, yet sniffed it with disdain, and set it down on the edge of the table. Her hand went to his long, dark brown, curly hair, and she traced his bronzed cheek, then allowed her soft caress to slide down his strong, bare shoulders and down his hard chest. She glimpsed the swath of white linen that hung low on his narrow hips.
"Dante, you know I always liked your rendition of the Sistine Chapel lovers... it's so sacrilegious. But, what has happened to your resources, darling? This isn't you at all. Frankly, I'm shocked."
Embarrassed, he clasped her hand and kissed the center of her palm, offering an apology. "Had I known you were coming, I would have sent for a body, topside," he said with false bravado, and held her gaze, searching it for an alliance. "Our resources have been extremely strained lately, but that will soon be rectified."
"That's why I'm here to help."
She walked away from him and looked at his three thrones left vacant by extinguished councilmen. "May I?" she asked, gracefully waving at them.