I have no purpose now, he thought, kneeling.
Ajmal had abandoned his mission in Bawiti. With keys in his pocket, he stole away back to Giza, where he’d attempt to come up with a plan — an excuse — in case Khaliq showed up and questioned his whereabouts. But if he was being honest with himself, Ajmal would rather Khaliq not come back at all. He was tired of being the man’s muscle, his “do boy.” His voice had been silenced long ago when he was given to the Ayad clan as a kind of trophy.
“My son will serve you well, Aaftab.” Ajmal’s father had said. “He will protect what you value most.”
The valuable commodity was Aaftab’s own son, Khaliq.
The gesture spoke volumes as to how the two fathers admired their boys. Aaftab genuinely loved his son. Ajmal was seen as nothing more than an asset used to gain favor within the Scales of Anubis, and for the last thirty-one years, he had done what he was told.
Until now.
I have no purpose.
He pulled the sewer manhole cover free and plodded down the steps, covering the entry point before he made his descent. Few people knew of this path. Even fewer had ever taken it. It was actually Ajmal’s suggestion that Khaliq have it built as a way out, just in case something awful happened. Owning an underground base of operations had its benefits, but it was also a liability if your only way out was compromised.
There was no light to speak of besides what the moon offered from overhead.
He looked west into the darkness and waited, holding his breath, and listening. Ajmal knew better than to assume he was alone, but after thirty seconds, he moved off and marched east, and counted his steps. He was halfway beneath the parking lot of The Pharaoh's Lounge before stopping again. To his right, and concealed within the stone-and-mortar wall, was an access panel. He reached for it, knowing exactly where it was without looking. Ajmal dug his finger into a false crack in the mortar and pulled, popping the camouflaged lid free. It swung open on a maintained hinge to reveal a single red button.
Ajmal pushed it.
The ground in front of him clunked open with a hiss of hydraulics, and another set of stairs was unveiled. He mounted them, and descended, and with every three feet that he traveled, another motion-activated light blinked to life. Once again, Ajmal counted his steps, finishing precisely when he knew he would.
He had arrived.
The same technology was in place here that had been used in the labs. Ajmal placed his thumb against a nondescript pad and held it in place for two seconds. A soft clunk announced that he had successfully gained entry into the Scales of Anubis’ underground lair.
He pushed through the door and stopped.
The space on the other side reeked of blood. He kept his eyes on the lit corridor and drew his pistol without a sound. Even from here, he could see the lump in the floor. Someone had died here, for sure, and it was near the exam room holding Grant Upton.
And the door was open.
Ajmal knew the protocols. He had written most of them. A three-man cleaning crew had been sent down to remove Upton from the exam room by any means necessary.
Ajmal leveled his gun at the open doorway and silently, and smoothly, continued down the hall. A second lab had been opened, and it, too, was in a state of carnal disarray. Two men lay dead in a combined pool of blood, tissue, and organs. Ajmal didn’t recognize either of them, but knew it would be one of Adnan, Haydar, or Naeem. They had been good men, and like Ajmal, loyal to a fault.
Now, they were dead, torn to pieces by something inhuman.
Khaliq.
All of this was his doing. More good people gone as a result of his ambition.
He snapped the pistol into the open doorway, finger resting atop the trigger, but nothing attacked him. Ajmal sidestepped left and repeated the motions in Upton’s room. Again, there was nothing.
Satisfied he was alone down here, Ajmal knelt and inspected the body out in the hallway. It was Adnan. He was mostly intact, and his face had been frozen in death.
“Upton,” Ajmal said under his breath.
With nothing more to do here, he stood and cleared the room across the hall. Khaliq had ground up the Anubian vase here, catapulting these events into motion. Upton would still be in his cage if it hadn’t been for Khaliq, and the cleaning crew would still be alive.
He gritted his teeth and drove his meaty fist into the elevator call button. When the lift arrived, the door slid open to reveal a mess. Blood streaked every surface of the metal box. Ajmal cautiously stepped inside, weary of an attack from above. The hatch in the roof of the elevator cabin would be the only way in or out once it was in motion and not parked on its intended floor.
Ajmal selected the button for the research floor, and he was whisked away. Seconds later, he arrived. The room was still, and in much worse shape than the labs, mostly because there were more people here, on average. With his gun down by his leg, Ajmal waited to exit. He wanted to see if anything in the natural cave was still alive.
He took in the room, shocked to see that it was completely devoid of life. It was usually the busiest department within the Scales of Anubis. That’s when he noticed the blood — he smelled it too. The reason the research floor was devoid of life was because everyone in it had been slaughtered.
Something near the light table moved, but Ajmal held his ground. He’d wait longer.
A noise that reminded Ajmal of sliding hay across the floor of his barn caught his ears.
Then just as quickly, it stopped.
“I hear you,” he said, stepping forward and lifting his pistol. The door slid shut as he descended the ancient stone steps. If he could entice Upton to —
A hunched figure stood, holding a man by his throat. The victim had been here for years. Salem had been one of the gentlest souls Ajmal had ever met. It was plain to see that Ajmal had been too late. Salem’s lifeless eyes could be seen from here.
This was the first time Ajmal had been afraid. The creature standing before him was no longer Grant Upton. His eyes had turned an awful milky white, and they stared straight through Ajmal, causing his very spirit to stir.
“What’s wrong?” Upton said. His voice was low and gravelly. He dropped Salem and held out his hands. “Is this not what you desired?”
Ajmal couldn’t speak. So, he pulled the trigger of his gun. The bullet struck Upton in the abdomen but did little else than enrage the demon further. He flung a heavy steel table as if it were made of balsa wood. His body rippled with muscle, and his skin was pulled taut, and looked rough, even leathery.
What’s happening to him? This was most definitely not what Ajmal had wanted.
He pulled the trigger again, but the result was the same as before. The round struck with little effect, other than angering Upton further. This time, Ajmal aimed higher and clipped Upton in the neck, just below his lower jaw. The impact paused Upton’s advance, and his hand went to the wound. Had Ajmal mortally injured the man?
Upton looked confused as his hand came away holding a small, white, wiggling creature. To Ajmal, it looked like a worm of some kind. Upton held the insect as if it were a near and dear friend. He gently poked and prodded it until it went still, and quickly grayed in color.
His next emotional outburst wasn’t one of sadness.
It was one of unbridled rage.
Ajmal backpedaled, but his heel caught on the ancient entry’s lowermost step. He fell and let another four rounds fly. The shots were wild, uncontrolled, and only one of them found their mark, striking Upton in the side. He took the impact in stride and reached up and crushed Ajmal’s right wrist as if it were a grape.