Dark Chains: Second Link (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance #108)

Chapter 1

DAVE

The basement smelled of dust, rust, and immortal sweat.

Standing in the reinforced corridor outside what had once been the glass enclosure, the Eight watched the night excavation crew wrap up their shift as the morning crew prepared to take over.

The soldiers were stepping around them without meeting their eyes, pretending that they weren't there, but the Eight who called themselves Dave were no longer bothered by that.

People were wary of them, and it wasn't because they were famous for their delivery of swift, execution-style justice.

That wasn't what was making them uncomfortable because all these immortal soldiers were bloodthirsty savages, and killing was what they were all trained for.

The Eight were more than them in every measurable way—stronger, faster, smarter—but even that wasn't why the others feared them.

They were an anomaly. Eight bodies that shared one mind that was more powerful than any on this island.

They had transcended.

They were different.

They were unpredictable.

One of the few who didn't fear them and sought out their company was Losham, but that was because Navuh's eldest son needed them to help him rule the island in his father's absence.

They had formed an alliance of convenience.

At first, the Eight had believed they could rule the island through Losham as their front man, but they had soon realized that they had no interest in doing that. Besides, they weren't as powerful as they had believed themselves to be right after discovering their unique compulsion ability.

It was an incredible gift, and it worked differently than Navuh's in that they could weave it through a thrall and didn't need to deliver it through speech. But their combined power wasn't all-encompassing like that of the former lord, who could blanket the island with his will.

Nevertheless, they needed Losham to provide them legitimacy, and he needed them to keep his throne. Without them, he wasn't going to survive his brothers, and they were leaving soon.

He's late, the collective thought. He's usually punctual.

They didn't kill him, Number Four contributed. Not yet.

The collective agreed with the assessment and regretted having to abandon Losham to the sharks. He'd been the one who had found the Russian scientists to take over Doctor Zhao's work and refine his protocol. Without them, the Eight would probably be dead by now, or insane.

As the collective thought about ways to save Losham, Number One thought about his own mother's death, and guilt washed over him.

He pulled his consciousness inward.

He hadn't known, and worse, he hadn't asked about her until yesterday, when Sullha delivered the devastating news.

His mother was dead.

The thought had been surfacing and sinking throughout the night and morning, refusing to stay submerged.

He'd been trying to file it away, and the others had been doing their best to assist, but the sorrow and guilt were just too vast to absorb even when divided between eight minds.

All the collective could do was to hold the grief, seven minds surrounding the eighth, not absorbing the pain, because grief couldn't be absorbed and diluted the way anger could, but providing a frame around it.

Keeping it contained. Keeping Number One functional.

It would have to be enough because nothing could change the fact that his mother had passed beyond the veil. He just needed to wait for the bleeding to stop.

Eventually, it would.

For now, all he could do was lean on the others and keep going because collapsing was not going to do anyone any good.

We've got you, Number Two thought. Losham is coming. Don't let him see you hurting. We are supposed to be invincible.

We are.

Eight faces smoothed to the same neutral expression, eight spines aligned their postures, and eight heart rates modulated back toward baseline. The grief didn't go anywhere, but it stopped leaking into their body language.

Losham came down the ramp with Rami by his side.

The assistant was carrying a tablet and a leather folder, and his posture around Losham was the same as always: perfectly correct and restrained, with his secret love for his boss humming beneath the surface of his conscious thoughts.

"Good morning," Losham said, his voice carrying the cordial-but-distant tone he used in public. "Rami, please assess the quantity of the debris removed so far. Based on that, calculate how much longer it will take to reach the bottom if the crews keep working at the same pace."

"Of course, my lord." Rami glanced once at the Eight, shifting his gaze from one to the next as if confirming that the count had not changed, and that they were all there.

Once he proceeded to the collapse zone, Losham walked over to Number One.

"We have a problem," he said in a near whisper. "Kolhood wants me to send a wired human into the harem to verify the story about Navuh sequestering himself in his private quarters. You know what I need you to do."

"Reinforce the compulsion on the harem staff," Number One said. "It has been a while since we've done it, and it might be fraying at the edges."

"I want the staff's version of what is taking place in the harem impregnable.

" Losham clasped his hands behind his back.

"Whatever human I send in with that device will be talking with the gardeners and maids and asking questions, and I need them to parrot the story that Navuh is in his apartment, and the ladies are in theirs, and that other than the lord's refusal to see anyone, everything in the harem is business as usual.

Since the human will be reassigned to the harem and stay there, that story needs to hold at least as long as his wire. "

"Naturally."

Losham didn't look satisfied with the quick assurance, or maybe he was still panicking.

"I want it to be perfect. I want it reinforced and deepened, and I want any edges of it that are fraying to be smoothed down.

And while you are in there, I want you to scan every staff mind in that underground pyramid for anything they might have noticed in the last few weeks that could be a problem for us. "

"It will be done," Number One assured him. "Will you be accompanying us this time?"

Losham had been there when Dave had originally compelled the harem staff right after Navuh's disappearance, but there was no need for him to come unless he wanted to reassure himself that the compulsion and thrall had been done to his satisfaction.

"I will not," Losham said. "The other time, things were still chaotic, and my brothers didn't know what was going on.

Now, I'm being watched. I'll stay here in the mansion for as long as you are in the harem, so if anyone asks about you, I can excuse your absence.

I can pretend to look for files that I left behind in my old office. "

"That's smart," Number One said.

"Of course it is." Losham smiled for the first time since arriving in the basement. "Let's go. I want this done before noon."

He headed toward Navuh's private spiral staircase that led from the basement straight to his second-floor office. It was also where the entrance to the tunnel was hidden.

Losham entered the code to open the door leading to the bottom landing of the staircase, and the Eight followed him inside.

The space was small, which required some squeezing before Number Eight could close the door behind them.

When the lock engaged, Losham pressed a spot on the ornate wood paneling on the opposite wall, and the panel clicked, swinging out on silent hinges.

A short concrete passage revealed itself, about five meters long, plainly finished and lit by a single motion-activated fixture.

At the far end, it opened into the larger tunnel, the one Navuh had built to shuttle himself between his mansion and his harem twice a day for more years than the Eight had been alive.

"Good luck," Losham said before closing the panel behind Dave.

The jeep was where they had parked it when they'd returned from the harem all those weeks ago.

It was an older military model, squared off and utilitarian, with a canvas top that hadn't been unfurled in years. The last time they had used it, the tank was half full, and they wondered where and how Lord Navuh had refueled it. Had he compelled soldiers to bring in containers of gasoline?

They should bring some the next time Losham wanted them to reinforce the compulsion on the harem staff.

There won't be a next time, Number One thought. We will not be here.

The thought excited them, but it was tinged with unease. They would be abandoning Losham, and his brothers would probably kill him.

He wasn't a particularly nice male, but he wasn't horrible either, and Rami loved him.

Dave valued love.

They didn't want Rami to experience the loss of the male he loved. Grief was painful, as they were learning through Number One's experience.

Four jump seats in the back. Two front seats.

Six bodies with somewhere to sit, two without.

Number Seven climbed into the driver's seat.

Number Three took the passenger side. Another four took the jump seats, while Number One and Number Eight stood on the vehicle's rear bumper, braced against the roll bar with their forearms and the canvas frame taking their weight.

Number Seven started the engine.

The jeep coughed, caught, and settled into the uneven idle of a vehicle that needed better maintenance than it was getting. It was strange that Lord Navuh had cared so little for his mode of transportation in this tunnel when he had insisted on top luxury everywhere else.

The collective wondered about the mechanics of getting the jeep in there in the first place and concluded that the vehicle had had to be assembled inside the tunnel because there was no other way to get it there, and perhaps that was the reason for the dismal quality.

It does what it's supposed to do, Number Seven thought, put it in gear, and the vehicle started rolling along the gray, monotonous tunnel.

My mother is dead.

Unbidden, the thought surfaced again. Number One hadn't intended to do that, but it had just cracked the frame the collective had built around the grief, and there it was, black, cold, and uncontainable.