"That wasn’t nice," he whispered, leaning in so close that Samantha feared her hair would be singed from his flames. "Look at me," he demanded. Though she was terrified, she did as he asked, keeping her gaze as steady as possible. "There was a time when dames like you wouldn’t have given me the time of day. But now… now I have girls like you jumping when I snap my fingers."
"It must be because of your rugged good looks," Samantha retorted, sarcasm twisting her words into something ugly.
Skull gripped her around her throat, applying enough pressure that she immediately began struggling to breathe. She raised the gun and slammed the butt of it down against his head, the flames burning her hand in the process. She did it again and again and the villain finally backed away when a crack appeared in his skull. He reached up and lightly touched the affected area, his fingers coming back with splintered bone on their tips. "You little bitch," he hissed. "I’m going to kill you for that."
Samantha’s neck felt like someone had run it through a meat grinder but she could breathe again and that gave her renewed hope. She decided to turn the tables on her foe, rushing toward him and driving a hard kick into his chest. The blow was enough to knock him back and he fell over a stack of papers, landing on his back. She jumped over him and yanked open the door, planning to deal with Skull’s two goons. To her surprise, she saw Eun standing there, the two men unconscious at his feet. He looked up at her and smiled but his grin vanished as Samantha grabbed hold of him and yanked him down the hallway. "Let’s go!" she yelled.
"But what’s going on?" he gasped, struggling to keep up with her. His head jerked around as the door to the office suddenly flew off its hinges and Mr. Skull emerged into the hall. He glared at them, the hollow orbs of his eyes moving from his fallen men to the fleeing members of Assistance Unlimited. "What is that?" Eun wondered aloud.
"Trouble," Samantha replied and Eun had no doubt that she was right about that. The two of them burst out onto the street and were inside one of the company cars within seconds. Samantha slid behind the wheel, starting the engine and slamming her foot down on the accelerator. She cast a quick glance behind them and saw Mr. Skull slowly walking down the building’s front stairs. He and his men watched them go and then headed toward their own vehicle.
"Are they going to come after us?" Eun asked.
"No. They have much worse plans." Samantha smiled at her friend. "Thanks for coming after me."
"You’re welcome. Glad I got there when I did. Your neck looks awful."
"Could have been worse. We need to get the Chief on the horn. That Mr. Skull character is one of the most dangerous we’ve ever faced."
Walther Lunt stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The right side of his face was a mangled mess of scar tissue, the result of an acid attack. There were some in The Illuminati who whispered that the acid had done more than simply scar Walther’s face: they intimated that it had unhinged his mind, as well.
Those closest to the German, however, knew the truth: Walther had been quite insane even before that. His desire for power and his willingness to do anything to achieve it were traits that had made him a valuable member of his guild and he’d quickly risen through the ranks. His one mistake had been a costly one, however. It had been his decision to recruit the man who had become Lazarus Gray into the secret society, inadvertently creating a terrible enemy.
Lunt turned away from the mirror and strode into the living room of the apartment he was sharing with Miya. Not long ago, he’d been killed in combat with Gray but Miya had been sent by the Illuminati to revive him. Now given a second chance at life, Lunt was eager to make the most of it. He took a peek into the bedroom where Miya lay under the covers. She was nude but all he could see were her bare shoulders and her lustrous dark hair, as she lay facedown. He felt himself stirring with lust for her but he pulled the door closed and tried to forget about the pleasures her flesh could offer him. Like all women who weren’t being paid to share his bed, she regarded his features with barely disguised disdain and that fact soured his lust, turning it into something violent and ugly.
The apartment’s telephone sat on a small table located near a large couch and two adjoining chairs. Lunt sat down on the couch and lifted the receiver, quickly dialing in the phone number for 6196 Robeson Avenue. He wasn’t sure if anyone would answer the phone or if he’d be connected to the automated answering service that Assistance Unlimited possessed but either way, he planned to leave quite a surprise for Lazarus Gray.
Miya’s plan to slowly seduce Gray was a failure in Lunt’s eyes. It was taking far too long and there was no guarantee of success. After all, The Illuminati had authorized her to sleep with him before in the hopes that it would tie Gray to their will, only to find that he was willing to toss aside their relationship in the name of his sickening morality. Lunt had decided that it was now time to roll the dice and take the offensive. Let Gray know the truth: either he would realize his mistake and come back into the fold or he would have made it clear that Lunt needed to kill him.
To his great astonishment, it was Gray himself who picked up on the other end. In grave tones, Lunt’s former associate said, "You’ve reached Assistance Unlimited. How may I help you?"
"Your name is Richard Winthrop. You were born in San Francisco. Both of your parents died when you were in your early teens but they left behind a trust that enabled you to take care of yourself. You graduated with honors from Yale University. The night of your graduation, agents of The Illuminati, who were aware that you showed a curiosity for things of an occult nature, approached you. You were brought onboard with promises of access to hidden libraries scattered across the globe. Of particular interest to you were spells related to the binding and summoning of elder entities. I think you found it appealing to believe that man could harness the powers of the ancients.
There were attempts to subvert you to the ways of the Order but you resisted. In particular, you rebelled at the kinds of blood sacrifices that were required for us to maintain our status. You turned against us and became quite the thorn in our sides. In the end, you snuck onboard a boat headed here to Sovereign, intending to stop one of our operatives from stealing a rare tome from the museum. You were discovered not long after the boat docked in the harbor and suffered a concussion. You managed to escape but you passed out on the shore. One of our men went looking for you, disguised as a member of local law enforcement. That’s the man that you killed, immediately after waking up. Our man on the boat apparently thought it best not to let anyone know that you’d escaped. He told us you were dead and that he’d dumped your body overboard. Imagine my surprise when I saw you here in Sovereign."
If Lunt was expecting Gray to react with shock, he was disappointed by the calm tone of voice that Lazarus used in response. "And the coin that I was holding?"
"The image of the man with the lion’s head is our symbol — and the name that was engraved under the picture was the name of our founder. The real Lazarus Gray died centuries ago."
"I see."
Lunt was about to tease his old foe with more information but to his surprise, he heard the click of the line being disconnected. He stared at the phone for a moment in disbelief. Had Gray actually hung up on him?
He set the phone back into its cradle and looked over his shoulder at Miya, who was stepping from the bedroom. She took one look at the expression on his face and paused. She had only a sheet wrapped around her lithe form but Lunt seemed unaware of how close to being naked she really was.