Darkness Bound

59

It folded its wings against its body and slanted into a hunting dive.

Which seemed to be aimed straight at the spot he was standing.

Knowing that the peregrine falcon was the fastest member of the animal kingdom, capable of reaching speeds well over two hundred miles per hour in its characteristic dives, Caesar took a step back. Then another, as the bird rocketed toward him, set on what seemed an imminent collision course.

He jumped into the safety of the turret stairwell with a shout of anger as the falcon swooped right down over his head, black talons extended.

“Crazy f*****g bird!” he screamed at it as it passed overhead and swept soundlessly out of sight.

When he again chanced a glimpse out of the turret, he spied the tail end of the bird, receding into the distance toward the mountains, jagged as shark’s teeth against the sky. It banked right and soared for a moment, then turned back in his direction.

“Nico!” he hollered down the spiral stairwell of the tower. “Get up here with your bow!”

It was probably breeding season. The stupid thing most likely had a nest nearby and was in protective mama bird mode, but he had enough problems—he didn’t need an insane predaceous avian to add to them.

As he wanted with anything that annoyed him, Caesar wanted it dead.

And Nico was the best archer he had.

He trotted down the steps, reaching the bottom just as Nico arrived with his bow and quiver of arrows.

Caesar pointed up the staircase. “Bird. Big, white. Kill it. Then bring it to the kitchens; I fancy roasted falcon for dinner tonight.”

Nico bowed. “Sire.”

Confident Nico would make quick work of the task and he’d soon be dining on fresh bird breasts, Caesar strolled off down the echoing stone hallway.

Before dinner, he had a meeting with Marcell. There were many, many more rooms that would soon be filled aside from those in the nursery.

Very soon.

“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 c****d 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?