Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,124

drug, he thought, it needs no catalyst. It simply is.

He chuckled.

There sits the mosquito, engorging itself upon human blood, completely ignorant of all peril. It does not know of the vampire spider, hunting for human blood by proxy. The mosquito does not know that by indulging in its drone-like instinctual tracks of behavior, it is in fact attracting, by the very scent of the blood it consumes, a most fearsome hunter. The spider cares not for the mosquito, only the blood. But sometimes the circle of life produces a two-for-one deal.

The mosquito could not know of the trap that had been laid for it. But indeed, dear friend John had stumbled into the web, and perfectly.

It was a funny thing, coincidence. It was too good. Who would have thought that John, Mr. Emmanuel’s special weapons sales rep, would be the blood father of the girl? Speaking of blood, that is. Anyway, it was staggering; it was indeed a small world. These things simply happened sometimes, and it was best to just let them play out, let them detangle on their own.

As the various pieces of the puzzle showed themselves, they fell perfectly to the spider’s hand. “Well? Aren’t we on speaking terms, John?”

John, finally waking up enough, finally regarded his captor, though he did not look at him. “Mr. Emmanuel, I regret to inform you that I am no longer your sales representative.”

He was interrupted by a burst of laughter from the spider.

He continued, “You’re going to have to call the company and make the necessary arrangements.”

“Oh, John! You bossie; crazy man. I knew there was some reason I liked you.” He sat down in a chair by his bound captive. “Still…” he looked around the room, “we simply must come to a meeting of the minds.”

Mr. Emmanuel was gazing at the hypnotic dance of fire. The room in which he sat—at the side of the examination table to which John was bound—was big and dark. Its ceiling was dark and domed, a large hole at its center that emanated darkness. Its circular perimeter was only delineated by a trough of white stones, in which orange-blue flames licked mildly upward at the highly polished black stone walls all around. It lent an evil cast to the atmosphere of the room, for there was no other source of light there. In fact, it looked like Hell’s own drawing room.

“I’m just looking for a little bit of intelligence, John. Surely if you’ve come this far, you must know something I don’t. Surely you must have something with which to barter her life.” He paused. “Or yours; I don’t care. Come now. Can we not compare notes?”

John did not look at him. “Nope.”

“John, you must know me better than that. After all these years providing some of the most delightfully effective weapons in the world? I wish your daughter no harm. No, certainly not. It’s simple. She only has something I want. I wish to find her and then retrieve it. It’s just a little trinket; a souvenir.”

John cursed at him. “I do know you, Mr. Emmanuel. That’s the problem. I know all my clients.”

For the first time Mr. Emmanuel began to show irritation, because the ruse wasn’t working. His facial features dropped into a scowl. “Be careful, John.” He stood so that he could pace, lecture. “I have some choice items from your own catalogue. I might use them on you; I might not. Listen. I’m being serious. Just tell me where she is. Then I will recover the item and bring her to you, and you both can live.”

John sighed.

In truth, Mr. Emmanuel had always planned on using John as a hostage. He was terrific leverage, and the girl would certainly come running if daddy needed her superheroine help. Of course, John didn’t need to know that; even if he had already deduced as much, he didn’t need to hear it from his own lips.

But Mr. Emmanuel changed tactics again. “The fact is…I will find your daughter before you do. Just look at you! You’re bound to a slab, John. It was a game; you’ve already lost. I have you. We pitted you against me, your motivations against mine. You lost because you seek to preserve…” He shrugged, thinking of a new button to push. “Seems noble. To preserve the flower of her youth, her…purity.”

John struggled against his bonds but said nothing.

“But my motivation is stronger. And I have many, many more resources.” Mr. Emmanuel drew near and began to talk