Malcolm was pacing back and forth within the walls of the shabby apartment he and Victoria shared. He could hear the
water of the shower running in the other room and was using the time alone to clear his head. Everything is going to be over soon, he thought to himself. It was difficult to believe, but after all his years of searching, he had finally found the location of his daughter.
He knew that he was counting his chickens too early but he couldn’t stop his excitement. His blood pumped in his veins like he was running a marathon. He finally took a deep steadying breath and forced himself to sit down on the floor. Malcolm crossed his legs under him and tried to focus on a calming object. The first thing that came to his mind was Victoria’s face.
Instantly he felt his body relax, and the excess energy flowed out of him.
Without meaning to, his mind conjured images of the rest of Victoria. Images that stirred his body with longing. The shape of her breasts, the contours of her body and her lengthy, beautiful legs created a picture perfect image of her in his mind. He could feel his lips turn upward into a smile and his groin tighten with need.
He pushed the thoughts away to focus on something else. There was no more time for distracting sexual thoughts. There was only one thing that mattered now; his daughter. The feelings within his body calmed at this thought and he felt himself at peace. He tried to imagine what Claire looked like now, five years after she was taken from him. He saw her with long blonde hair that was nearly snow white, deep green eyes and a big, innocent smile. Soon, he would see her again and all would be as it should.
A heavy knock brought Malcolm from his trance. His eyes snapped open and looked around. He thought that it was Victoria stepping out of the shower, but then he heard her getting dry in the other room. His eyes followed the wall in darkness until they fell to the door. He stood quickly and cautiously approached. His mind was still calm from his meditations, but his body instantly went into fighting mode.
He looked through the small hole in the door to identify the source of the noise. There was a young man behind the door wearing a serious expression. Malcolm recalled seeing this face before but he couldn’t remember exactly where it had been. The young man stood alone and wore an expensive suit. A chill ran through his shoulders as he realized this man might have been sent by the Organization. What could they want? He thought to himself. Before another knock could come, Malcolm guardedly opened the door.
The young man offered a thin lipped smile. “It’s an honor, Mr. Cage,” he said quietly. “I trust I’m not interrupting something.”
Malcolm arched a brow. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said, crossing his arms.
“Not many recognize the messenger,” the young man said softly. “I come on behalf of the High Councilor. You missed a meeting earlier this evening and I’m to bring you up to speed.” “Go ahead,” Malcolm said quickly.
“The first order of business was that the High Councilor has demanded a cease in hostilities,” the man began. “It’s getting to be too much.”
Malcolm’s lips twitched to say something bitter but his mind stayed the words. “Brantford knows what I want.” he said simply. “I want no trouble.
Just the return of my daughter.”
The young man hesitated for a moment. “I understand, Mr. Cage. However, this order comes from the very top. The second order of business is a warning to you, Mr. Cage. If you continue to go after your daughter against the wishes of the council, Councilor Cunningham will invoke the Blood Duel.”
Malcolm furrowed his brows, his eyes glancing toward the bedroom where Victoria was still getting herself ready for bed. “Why would David invoke that?” he asked curiously. Brantford’s father had no reason to demand such a barbaric solution. “Surely Brantford can deal with his own issues.”
The young man hesitated again, nervousness gripping at his throat. “Former councilor, David Cunningham died in his sleep and his seat has been passed to his son.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Malcolm said in exasperation. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.” He did what he could to mask the fear gnawing at his stomach by this news. It was difficult to believe that a health nut like David Cunningham had died in his sleep at the most convenient of times. The seventy-year-old man was in better shape than most twenty-five year old boys. However, even Malcolm had trouble considering that Brantford would raise his hand against his father.
“That’s not for me to say.” The young man fixed Malcolm with an unwavering gaze. “Do you agree to stop hostilities with Councilor Cunningham?”
Malcolm’s lips tightened in frustration. “I’m not giving up on finding my daughter,” he said in a chilled tone. “Deliver this message back to Brantford. I know where he is hiding Claire and he doesn’t have the time to move her before I get there. If he wants to avoid more pointless bloodshed he can sit down and talk to me when I get there, about the terms of his surrender.”
The young man frowned under Malcolm’s stony gaze. “I can’t deliver that message, Mr. Cage. Please,” he said quietly, “consider the councilor’s generous offer.”
Malcolm flung his arm out and snatched the collar of the young man’s suit, yanking him up by the fabric. “Offer considered,” he said in hot fury. “Offer denied.” He shoved the young man away in disgust and fought his anger down. If Brantford wanted to escalate this war further with an ancient duel to the death, Malcolm was more than happy to oblige him.
“My counter offer to Brantford is that we need to discuss this, man-toman,” Malcolm said with determination. “I’m open to negotiation but I will not simply give up on finding my daughter. You take my offer back and I will return to Chicago and put a stop to this,” Malcolm said as his temper began to dissipate. “For now.”
The young man straightened out his suit with shaky hands. “I understand, Mr. Cage. I will deliver this message to Councilor Cunningham. The High Councilor will be pleased that you are not the animal Councilor Cunningham insists you are.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Just get out of here before someone sees you.”
With a curt nod, the young man departed quickly. Malcolm released a sigh and glanced back into the bedroom. He saw only darkness, and began to pace once again. Sweat had formed on Malcolm’s brow without him realizing it and his heart was beating faster than normal. Fuck, he mentally cursed. He didn’t have the resources to take on Brantford anymore-and especially not in this ridiculous, all-out ancient duel. Malcolm just hoped that his lie would buy him enough time to get Claire away from the clutches of her psychopathic uncle.
“Malcolm,” Victoria said softly in the darkness.
He turned around to see her paled face and he knew that she had heard every word. “How was your shower?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.
“It was fine,” she replied with trepidation in her voice, “but the walls were kind of thin and I think I washed my hair with something that made me go insane.”
He walked slowly over to her and put his arms around her waist. “I wish that were the case,” he said softly. “I was hoping the shower would hide our talk.”
“It didn’t. I heard every word,” she said quickly. “What the hell was he talking about? Council? High Councilor? Blood Duel? It sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.”
Malcolm held her tightly against him. “I know the feeling,” he said softly. “Remember the people that I told you about? The ones worse than me?”
She nodded softly. “He was a part of that?”
“A messenger that delivered some very bad news. He must have been new, because he didn’t do nearly a good enough job of checking if anyone was here,” he said thoughtfully. “Or he was told not to worry about it.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked, her curiosity overcoming whatever fear had been gripping her.
“Because we’re already being watched-maybe they don’t consider you a threat,” he said soothingly. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself. “Either way, I’ll protect you from them.”
“What was that nonsense about a duel?” she asked, her composure returning.
“You really don’t know when to stop asking questions,” he said lightly.
“Do you?”
She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I wouldn’t be here if I knew when to stop,” she quipped. “That was a little disturbing at first but I’m over it.
Tell me what’s going on and we’ll figure something out.”
“You didn’t believe me when I said I’d go back to Chicago?” he asked with a light chuckle.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not,” she said, stroking his arm softly. “I know you better than that. You would never walk away from a chance to get your daughter.”
Malcolm looked into her dark eyes as he cupped her chin in his palm. “It’s a bit difficult to explain and I feel it’s better not to tell you everything,” he began to explain. “Brantford has just come into a lot of power and he’s far more dangerous. I don’t know if I can win anymore but I’m going to try.”
Victoria leaned her head against his palm as she listened. “Things are never easy,” she said softly. “The duel or whatever it’s called sounds bizarre. What does it mean?”
Malcolm sighed. “The Blood Duel,” he said sardonically. “It’s an ancient battle between members of the Organization when they have a dispute that can’t be solved diplomatically.” He pressed his lips together tightly betraying his frustration. “It was given a seven-day time limit to prevent long wars from being fought between these people of power. The participants use everything in their arsenal to destroy the other person.
Winner takes all.”
“That sounds brutal,” she said in wonder.
“That’s not even all of it. There are no rules except one: one of the combatants must be the one to deliver the final blow. I would have to kill
Brantford with my own hands.”
Victoria let out a low whistle. “I imagine this isn’t something that happens all that often.”
Malcolm nodded. “You would be correct. I believe the last time a Blood Duel was called was over fifty ago. In today’s world, the Blood Duel is just too dangerous to invoke. It’s like countries with nukes going to war. No one wins.”
Her face adopted a pensive expression as she glanced away. “And if you go to look for Claire, Brantford is going to call one of these things?”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “and I know he won’t negotiate with me. He and I both know I don’t have anything to bargain with.”
“Then why send the messenger back with that?” she asked with a furrowed brow.
He could feel his lips turn down into a frown. “I’m gambling with a lie. I know he won’t buy it but I’m hoping that it throws him off for long enough for us to pick up Claire before he officially declares the duel.”
She furrowed her brows as she said, “I think you take pleasure in giving me a reason to worry.” Putting her hand to her forehead, she rubbed her hand into the muscles to ease out tension. “I guess we have a lot to do in order to make sure we’re in and out.”
Malcolm nodded. He could feel some of the weight off his shoulders. Having Victoria here to share the burden helped ease his mind. Her positivity and cleverness were exactly the things he needed to be reunited with his daughter. “Yes we do, my treasure.”