Chapter 4
Ghoul
“Pass the chippies, Addy.” I sit down in the office chair of the surveillance room, gesturing to the good General Black Adder.
He silently passes me the bag of potato chips—chicken flavoured, of course.
I take the bag and pull one of my gloves off with my teeth, dropping the fine black leather into my lap before delving into the bag. “What part are we up to?”
Ten screens are mounted before us in the surveillance room in the basement of the new Naga mansion.
Usually, the screens show various external hidden security cameras and audio feeds, but the one in the very centre now shows a permanent re-run of what’s now being fondly called The Battle of Drakos Estate.
“The Boneweaver girl is spitting blue fire.” Adder gestures to my regina, breathing a stream of electric blue flames out of her giant muzzle.
“Have we figured out why it’s that colour?” I ask, leaning forwards, as if I’m confused by this.
Adder sighs. “No, but my thermal senses confirm that it’s hotter than regular dragon fire.” I feel my own power gathering behind my eyes in response to that. Adder’s head snaps towards me as his thermal organ picks up an anomaly. “Don’t do that shit here, Ghoul.”
I lean back in my chair with a smirk. “Don’t worry, you’re not on my hit list. Or are you?” I cackle.
The radio on the table goes off, Charlotte Naga’s commanding shriek coming through. “Prepare for entry. ETA two minutes. All teams at the ready.”
Adder sighs. “It’s finally time.”
Both of us get up, and I toss my empty packet onto the table, brush crumbs on my pants and put my gloves back on.
We traipse up the long steps into the light of the ground floor and round the house until we get out to the hidden corridor built into the laundry room.
Outside, serpents are bustling around with last-minute preparations, and it’s at the front entrance that Adder and I go our separate ways.
He and the other generals head out with their chosen teams to hide in their allocated positions around the house and grounds.
I’ve never really had a team. Just a few diehard fans who circulate around me, sniffing at the fumes of death I leave behind.
Charlotte Naga awaits with one of them, Natalia, a young captain with dark hair.
She’s exchanged her commissioned uniform for a maid’s dress today.
In her hands, she holds a tray, nodding at Charlotte’s repeated instructions.
The Naga princess sees me and stiffens, her perfectly made-up face smoothing out into a mask almost as cold as my own bone-mask.
“General, everyone is getting into place.”
Cobras are naturally bossy. They can’t help themselves, and I can practically see Charlotte’s hood snapping out in the form of her blonde Marilyn curls. I’ve never actually seen her shifted form, but I’m sure it’s as cold and cunning as her human one.
“Want a smoke for the nerves?” I ask lightly, reaching into my pocket and flicking out my black case of hand-rolls.
She wrinkles her nose, but it’s pert and delicate. A lot of males like her face, but in the long years I’ve known her, that face has only ever disgusted me, for more reasons than one. “Put those away before they see it.”
“I’ll be a good little boy,” I coo at her.
“Don’t you worry about it.” I turn to Natalia, and the captain straightens unconsciously.
One of the hands holding her tray should have a curling black B tattooed on it, but she covers it with makeup every time she’s not in uniform.
Didn’t even flinch when I jokingly suggested they tattoo themselves in homage to me.
The next day, a bunch of them all walked in to proudly show me their forearms.
Natalia bows over her tray of pink lemonade, little mint leaves poking out from the top. “Good girl,” I say in approval. “Smiles on, voices sweet.” She nods eagerly, keen to please me. Charlotte, on the other hand, presses her lips together. I suppose she is yet to forgive me for old Uncle Ben.
Who was lucky I didn’t kill him more brutally than I did.
The sound of an engine grows louder, and I detect a limo.
“Get out of here,” Charlotte hisses at me.
I hiss back as Mace strides out of his office, straightening his suit.
I nod at him before heading towards the dining room.
It’s opulent, with Charlotte and the housekeeper giving their best show of wealth.
The money Mace made on the sale of his daughter not once, but twice via Xander and then The Collector, on full view here.
Golden chandeliers, a long dining table with place settings for twenty.
Crystal goblets, silverware, and best of all: a new golden Naga crest adorning the mantel above the fireplace.
Gathering my shadows about me, I sink into the corner of the dining room where I’ll get a full view of everything. After some fuss and bother, our esteemed guests are greeted then guided in, one by one, flutes of green iced tea in their hands.
Ablo Obon arrives first in his limousine, the black feline king regal in his sweeping patterned robes.
The queen of the avians is up next, Irma Goldwing, with a scrunched-up nose and severe black business dress.
Queen Lunissa breezes out of her car with her usual faint smile and multicoloured gauze skirts.
So, everyone except the dragon and marine orders are represented.
Xander’s mother didn’t reply to our invitation, of course, as she remains in her treasure haze over Drakos Estate.
The usual marine candidate is, of course, tied up at the moment, thanks to Katerina’s lusty greed.
They are seated at Mace’s dining table, served canapés and a light lunch before Mace sets his napkin aside.
“Your big announcement,” Ablo says, clasping his fists at the table. “Surely you have wooed us enough, Mace.”
The serpent king smiles thinly at them all. “My big announcement,” he says gravely, “is that—”
Irma, the slightest of the group, is the first to succumb, her entire body going stiff, her eyes going wide as she comes to a realisation.
As if she feels my fangs sinking deep. Her own healing will try to fight the venom, so we dosed her the hardest and she’ll have to be dosed regularly from now on.
The wolf queen’s mouth opens in shock before she too goes still as stone.
Petrified within her human body. Ablo jumps up from the table before stumbling backwards in horror.
“Is that,” Mace repeats, “I am taking over.”
“What have you done?” Ablo clutches his chest and gasps.
I throw my shadows away. Emerging from the corner of the room into full view, I give the feline regent a little wave.
He goes ashen. “Basilisk venom paralyses the victim upon penetration, eventually killing them,” Mace drones as if giving a eulogy.
“However, when consumed in micro-doses, it puts the victim in a suggestible state. As such, when consumed in larger doses, it can put a beast in a catatonic state. You can still hear, see, and feel everything…but you cannot move except to breathe and blink. In a few moments, you also won’t be able to make your own thoughts.
Effectively…” Mace takes a deep, satisfying breath. “You are now mine.”
“The others will not accept this.” Ablo fights my venom, but his speech is strained. “They will rise against you. The tigers—”
“Naturally,” Mace says. “Tiberius Clawson will take care of the tigers. As for the rest—this is why we will make a statement.” Charlotte returns to the room with a camera and tripod.
“One by one, the big houses fall,” Mace continues his sermon.
“And the world will remember those beasts fell by my hand. A superior species.”
Whose hand? Because it couldn’t possibly be my venom that did it? “The superior species,” I agree.
Mace does not turn away from the scene. “You know what to do next, General.”
I bow low and change honorific for dramatic effect. “With pleasure, Your Majesty.”