Page 65 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
“We’ve completed work on the aqueduct. If all goes well with the testing, we should have fresh running water by tomorrow morning.”
Caesar shook his head, marveling at the genius of his first-in-command and favorite guard, Marcell. Only yesterday he’d successfully installed the diesel generators that, in conjunction with a freezer, allowed Caesar to have that coveted desert luxury: ice.
Leaning back into his chair in what he thought of as the library, though there were no books, only soaring ceilings and a lot of empty space, he steepled his fingers beneath his chin and smiled.
“Well done, Marcell. Just in time, too. I anticipate we’ll need as much fresh water as we can get within the next few weeks.”
Standing as he always did whenever Caesar was present, Marcell cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve had word?”
“I have. They’re on the move. Won’t be long until Weymouth’s part of the Plan is complete. And quite honestly, I think work on the subterranean dig needs to be stepped up. Substantially. Otherwise we simply won’t have anywhere to put them all.” He watched a long-legged spider crawl over the sill of the window across the room. With no glass to keep the outside out, the empty casements were conduits for the myriad insects, arachnids, and creepy crawlers of the desert.
Spiders gave Caesar the heebie-jeebies. They just looked so . . . evil. And this one was doubly sinister because it was albino. Ugh.
“As you wish, Sire. I’ll double the crew and accelerate the deadline.” He paused. “If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, Sire?”
Caesar turned his attention back to Marcell.
“I find a little . . . incentive always helps motivation. If the men were to have a reward awaiting them if they finish ahead of schedule . . .”
His lips quirked, and Caesar grinned.
“If they finish the tunnels and all the necessary rooms ahead of schedule, they shall each be allowed to choose a female from my own personal stock in the dungeon. How’s that?”
Marcell bowed. “Excellent, Sire.” He straightened and grinned back at his master. “I guarantee the shovels will be flying.”
At the mention of flying, Caesar’s look soured. He sat back in his chair, gazing at Marcell with narrowed eyes. “That reminds me of something. Shortly after Weymouth arrives with his group in tow, he needs to have some kind of accident. Make it believable, though. Nothing too exotic. And I can’t be anywhere nearby; we don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the new arrivals. But a traitor like him simply can’t be trusted. If he’ll turn on his own leader—even if she is a female—he’s fully capable of turning on me.”
Marcell considered it a moment before answering. “Perhaps a fall down a flight of stairs. The stone in this kasbah is crumbling badly; the steps could give way underfoot at any time.”
Pleased, Caesar nodded. “I’ll leave it to you. Just make sure I’m doing something very visible with the rest of the colony when it happens. Making some kind of kumbaya speech about unity, et cetera.”
“Any idea what he has planned for that Queen of theirs?”
Caesar’s lip curled. Queen. As if a woman could ever lead. Ha!
He rose, crossed to the windows, and gazed out into the starry, arid night. “Poison, I believe. For her and her Alpha. The two little brats I think he means to smother in their crib. Not that I particularly care about the methods. The end result is my only concern.”
“And the rainforest colony? The ones Weymouth can’t convince to join us?”
Caesar smiled at the stars, a glow of satisfaction spreading through his chest. “I hated my father, you know,” he mused, watching the twinkling heavens. The sky was so clear here at the edge of the world, the stars winked like a million coins at the bottom of a wishing well. “Not only because he always favored my sister over me, but also because he always looked at me with such disappointment. I think if he were alive today, however, he’d be very proud of me indeed. After all, I’m carrying on his legacy. Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, that sort of thing. I’ve given the hunters enough to go on so they know where to strike. ‘Capture and exterminate,’ were the exact words used, and I confess I’ve never heard two more beautiful words in my life. Whoever isn’t a friend is an enemy; remember that Marcell. There are no in-betweens for us. In war, everyone must choose a side.”
Marcell said with deference, “And how genius of you, Sire, to use one enemy to kill the other.”
“Only the first step, that one. Once the Ikati are under my rule, I’ll strike the final blow. What I have planned for the Expurgari and our new friend Thirteen and his corporate backers will make the Holocaust look like Sunday in the park. After that, we’ll take over Marrakech, then infiltrate every major city in the world and begin to impregnate the females, just as I’ve done here. According to my father’s calculations, it will only take a few generations for the entire human species to be wiped from the face of the Earth.”
Caesar’s smile grew wider, the flush of satisfaction more intense. “Three moves ahead, he always said. You have to stay at least three moves ahead of your opponent. My father loved his ridiculous chess metaphors, but he was right. The pawns will fall, the knights will fall, the Queen will be toppled . . . the whole board will be wiped clean.” His voice grew quiet. “And the King will rule, once and for all. Forever.”
A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The albino spider, still crouched in all its diminutive creepiness on the sill, had reared up on its hind legs and was crazily waving its front legs in the air.
“Great Horus, that’s disgusting,” Caesar muttered, and brought his fist down hard atop it.
Nico entered the room. “I couldn’t locate the bird, Sire. You must have scared it away.”
Caesar sighed. “Well, no matter. If it comes back, you know what to do.”
Nico bowed out of the room. Marcell said, “What have you got there, Sire?”
“A dead spider.”
