Armande had been lost in thought, scouring the dark web. His time was diminishing, the moment to strike- before he lost Valeriya- dwindling. No thing and no one would be sacrosanct. And not simply because he loved her.
She was his Eye, his key to victory. Had she not seen it in her vision? Brandon, kneeling before him in a garden. A crown amidst the grass. He stifled the stir of covetous emotion at the very last part of the vision. Temptation. It squirmed and wriggled. He knew the truth. He was not immune to the lure. To wear the crown upon his head.
No. Not what was important.
He had sacrificed everything to the struggle. Up to and including the life of his daughter. He would not lose his other half. And so he searched, combing through the veiled postings and advertised services. A lesson. A teacher, was what he sought.
The touch to his arm brought him out of his reverie. Valeriya stood before him. He gazed at her for a moment. He remembered the joy on her face, happiness in her eyes, when he had shown her the sunrise for the first time. The rapture in Gorky park amid the flowers and trees and fragrances. The fierce pride as he claimed his right as her consort before the Khlysty body. The fiery passion on her face and in her voice as they were bound soul to soul, body to body.
He had loved in his life. His mother, curled around him protectively on a friend's couch, doing what must be done for the sake of her son. Gregorio, his sweet smile and kind eyes still bringing a stab of joy to his heart. Jova of the fiery eyes and fierce soul, huntress of the night, the brush of her lips on his as she slipped out of the tent into the cobalt night. Lissandra, sweet Lisssandra, of childish faith and steel sharpened determination to not simply prosper, but to be the best.
Not one of his loves had made him weaker. No. He was far stronger for the experiences, for the affection and friendships, for the companionship and lovers, for the questions and challenges.
Valeriya did not make him less. Loving her did not make him vulnerable. On the contrary. He was far stronger for it. Her visions only made it clearer that they were bound by the universe in this fight. By God himself.
And anyone-and everyone!, he thought violently, who thought to steal her heart from him and their destiny would burn.
He cast his mind back to her question and a quiet smile played at the edges of his lips. Seek, and ye shall find. A whisper in the back of his mind. It could work. It could. It still did not negate the need for a teacher. But one thing at a time.
When Rowan spoke, it was like a knife twisting his gut. Only self control kept his face from showing the anger at her display of knowledge. It made things much more difficult. But the path to salvation was not traveled easily.
He spoke, modulating his tone. It would sound phony to speak enthusiastically of the woman's suggestions now, after their evening. But still..."Rowan's suggestions would be in line with my own. Let me know what you two decide and I will have one my people pick it up." He calmed. And with fate on his side, it would be enough.
He returned to his searches, checking his cached message queues scattered across the dark web.
He breathed sharply, his heart racing. Not in fear. A feral smile appeared on his lips. Unexpected. And yet....so very fitting. It would take verification, of course; security protocols; VPN switching; multiple layers of encryption. And even then, the time limit would have to set before hand.
But if it panned out....Armande Nicodemus, Regus of the Atharim, laughed heartily. To meet Nikolai Brandon, Apollyon the Destroyer, to speak with him 'face to face'...
Fate was with him.
She was his Eye, his key to victory. Had she not seen it in her vision? Brandon, kneeling before him in a garden. A crown amidst the grass. He stifled the stir of covetous emotion at the very last part of the vision. Temptation. It squirmed and wriggled. He knew the truth. He was not immune to the lure. To wear the crown upon his head.
No. Not what was important.
He had sacrificed everything to the struggle. Up to and including the life of his daughter. He would not lose his other half. And so he searched, combing through the veiled postings and advertised services. A lesson. A teacher, was what he sought.
The touch to his arm brought him out of his reverie. Valeriya stood before him. He gazed at her for a moment. He remembered the joy on her face, happiness in her eyes, when he had shown her the sunrise for the first time. The rapture in Gorky park amid the flowers and trees and fragrances. The fierce pride as he claimed his right as her consort before the Khlysty body. The fiery passion on her face and in her voice as they were bound soul to soul, body to body.
He had loved in his life. His mother, curled around him protectively on a friend's couch, doing what must be done for the sake of her son. Gregorio, his sweet smile and kind eyes still bringing a stab of joy to his heart. Jova of the fiery eyes and fierce soul, huntress of the night, the brush of her lips on his as she slipped out of the tent into the cobalt night. Lissandra, sweet Lisssandra, of childish faith and steel sharpened determination to not simply prosper, but to be the best.
Not one of his loves had made him weaker. No. He was far stronger for the experiences, for the affection and friendships, for the companionship and lovers, for the questions and challenges.
Valeriya did not make him less. Loving her did not make him vulnerable. On the contrary. He was far stronger for it. Her visions only made it clearer that they were bound by the universe in this fight. By God himself.
And anyone-and everyone!, he thought violently, who thought to steal her heart from him and their destiny would burn.
He cast his mind back to her question and a quiet smile played at the edges of his lips. Seek, and ye shall find. A whisper in the back of his mind. It could work. It could. It still did not negate the need for a teacher. But one thing at a time.
When Rowan spoke, it was like a knife twisting his gut. Only self control kept his face from showing the anger at her display of knowledge. It made things much more difficult. But the path to salvation was not traveled easily.
He spoke, modulating his tone. It would sound phony to speak enthusiastically of the woman's suggestions now, after their evening. But still..."Rowan's suggestions would be in line with my own. Let me know what you two decide and I will have one my people pick it up." He calmed. And with fate on his side, it would be enough.
He returned to his searches, checking his cached message queues scattered across the dark web.
He breathed sharply, his heart racing. Not in fear. A feral smile appeared on his lips. Unexpected. And yet....so very fitting. It would take verification, of course; security protocols; VPN switching; multiple layers of encryption. And even then, the time limit would have to set before hand.
But if it panned out....Armande Nicodemus, Regus of the Atharim, laughed heartily. To meet Nikolai Brandon, Apollyon the Destroyer, to speak with him 'face to face'...
Fate was with him.