The Paradise Prophecy

2

ISTANBUL, TURKEY PRESENT DAY

There were four of them, huddled in a corner of the cafe, half hidden by shadow.

Three men and a woman.

Ajda hadn’t heard them enter. The bell above the door had somehow failed her. But the moment she emerged from the kitchen and saw them sitting there, she knew that they were strangers to the city.

Tourists.

Not that this was anything unusual. The streets of Istanbul were always filled with such people. They flew in from all over the world, marching like lemmings into foul-smelling buses that carted them around to all the usual landmarks, the museums, the wonders of a strange land.

But there were no tour buses this late at night, and Ajda was surprised to see these four.

One of them called to her in Turkish, ordering black tea, but his facility with her native tongue did nothing to endear them to her.

Even from a distance, they made her feel ill at ease.

As she carried the tray to their table, setting a cup in front of each of them, she avoided looking directly into their eyes for fear their gazes would somehow burn straight through her.

It was an irrational fear, she knew, but the hour was late; the cafe otherwise deserted, and her gut told her that there was something very wrong here.

She hoped they would quickly drink up and leave.

They spoke Russian then, although none of them looked to be natives of the country. It was a language Ajda knew fairly well, after summer studies in Saint Petersburg and two years rooming with a family near Brighton Beach in America before returning here to the city. But the strangers couldn’t know this, and they spoke freely in front of her.

Or perhaps they simply didn’t care.

“All right, my dear,” one of the men said, turning his gaze to the woman. “The floor is yours. What’s so important you had to drag us here at this hour?”

He was statuesque, dressed in impeccably tailored clothes. He reminded Ajda of the many American businessmen she’d seen on television.

“I’ve just returned from Manasseh,” the woman told him. “I have some disturbing news.”

Ajda tried not to listen. Their business was not hers. And as she tucked the tray under her arm and turned away from the table, she attempted to distract herself from their conversation with thoughts of Ferid and his promise to marry her.

But it didn’t work. The strangers, like most tourists, were speaking much louder than good manners dictated, and Ajda’s curiosity had been piqued. The place the woman had spoken of-Manasseh-was not familiar to her, although she had long been a student of geography.

Was it a city? A country?

Ajda had a vague memory of hearing the name before, but associated it with a king of some kind. Something she had learned in school, no doubt.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” another of the men said. “What is this news?”

He was the oldest of the group, but he dressed like a much younger man, in a leather jacket and jeans-an aging rock star, wearing sunglasses at night. He was sitting next to the woman, and he casually reached over, running a hand along the small of her back. An intimate gesture that made Ajda shiver with revulsion. The thought of being alone with this man repulsed her.

The woman, however, didn’t seem to mind. Far from it.

“Custodes Sacri is alive and well,” she said.

A long silence followed, and Ajda made herself busy wiping a nearby table, chancing another glance in their direction.

All eyes were on the woman.

And who could blame them? She was beautiful. Exotic. Ethereal. Not that Ajda made a habit of admiring other women. But there was something about this one that compelled it.

At the moment, however, these men weren’t interested in her beauty. Only in the words she had spoken.

“Ridiculous,” the third man said. He was German, with the somewhat stiff, controlled bearing of a military man. He struck Ajda as someone who would take great pleasure in inflicting torture. “Their lot ended generations ago. Who told you this?”

The woman hesitated again. “No one of consequence. A laggard. A drunk.”

The businessman raised an eyebrow. “One of your playthings, no doubt. Is he . . . committed yet?”

The woman shook her head.

“Then why believe him?”

“It’s complicated. But I have my reasons. You think I’d waste everyone’s time if I didn’t?”

“What I think is that you tend to be an alarmist, my dear, and I’m not interested in listening to your cries that the sky is falling. But even if it’s true, Custodes Sacri is no real threat to us.”

Sunglasses turned to him. “Don’t be naive, Radek. I’d think you, especially, would understand the threat of unseen enemies.” He looked at the German now. “And you, Vogler, you know better than anyone what lurks behind an innocent face and a charming smile. Our last few attempts have failed spectacularly, gentlemen, and I think it’s time we let Bel-” He stopped himself, glancing at Ajda, who kept busy behind the counter. “It’s time to let our sister here have her chance.”

The woman looked at him appreciatively, even lasciviously. Ajda shuddered at the thought that these two might be related.

The businessman gestured dismissively. “Look around you. The world is in chaos and we’re closer than ever to realizing our goal. The fourth moon approaches, and a handful of true believers can’t do anything to stop us.”

“The fourth moon is useless to us if we fail to find what we’re looking for.”

The businessman scowled. “That’s your particular obsession, my friend. You put too much stock in ancient rumors. For all we know, they’re nothing but lies designed to distract us from what truly needs to be done.”

“We’ve had this argument before,” Sunglasses said. “But even the execution of their so-called savior didn’t give us the power we need.”

The German snorted. “Proof that he was as mortal as the rest of them.”

“But if those ancient rumors are true, the Telum will change the game. And I thought we all agreed what our first priority is.”

The businessman shook his head. “I made no such agreement. I see no reason to abandon the tried and true in hopes that a fairy tale might bear fruit.”

The woman leaned toward him now.

“Tried and true?” she said incredulously. “Like the Crusades? The Black Death? World War Two? Your efforts have fallen short time and again, Radek, and the sooner you put that ego of yours in check, the better off we’ll all be.”

The businessman flicked his gaze toward her, his eyes cold with contempt. “I’d advise you to watch your tongue, my dear. If you think I’d hesitate to cut it off, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“You’re certainly welcome to try.”

Ajda watched in horror as the two stared at each other, neither willing to look away.

“Enough,” Sunglasses said. “These petty disputes only serve to divide us, and we can’t afford that now. If Custodes Sacri is indeed active again, then we can use them to our advantage. They do, after all, hold the key to what we seek. And that knowledge is as important as the Telum itself.”

The German looked doubtful. “What makes you think they’ll be any different than the others of their kind? We’ve tried working with them before.”

“It only takes one.”

“Assuming you can find any of them.”

The woman smiled now. “This is why I summoned you all to Esau.”

“Oh?”

She gestured toward the window. “The auction house across the street. My friend seems to believe the owner is one of them. A rancid little beast named Ozan.”

“And he knows this how?”

“He’s a student of our world. Seems to know more about it than I do myself. And despite his failings, his intellect is quite formidable. He could be useful to us.”

The businessman glanced at the other two men, then smirked at her. “It’s quite obvious you have a soft spot for this pathetic creature.”

She studied him coldly. “Now whose tongue is in danger?”

“Let’s get back to the problem at hand,” Sunglasses said, then turned again to the woman, once more stroking the small of her back. “I assume you’d prefer to handle the matter?”

“I think it’s only fitting, don’t you?”

“How so?” the businessman asked.

“You’ve all had your chances to prove yourselves. Now it’s mine. And even if this Ozan creature fails to give us what we need, he’ll no longer be an obstacle.” She smiled. “By the time I’m finished, none of them will.”

Sunglasses looked at the others. “There you have it then. You two can continue doing what you so love and leave the rest to us. Are we all in agreement?”

The other men seemed to hesitate a moment, as if giving in were somehow equivalent to a battle lost. Then there were nods all around as each of the four raised a palm, saying in unison, “A posse ad esse.”

Ajda froze in place as a shiver ran through her bones. She had dropped all pretense now and was staring openly at them, certain that what she was witnessing was the planning of a crime of some kind. Possibly even murder.

What else could it be?

The woman glanced up sharply and Ajda quickly averted her gaze. She had to speak to Ferid. He knew people. Could summon the police. The auction house was closed at this hour, so maybe they could warn this man Ozan before these horrid people got to him.

But as she turned to flee to the kitchen, she stopped short, surprised to find the woman standing directly in front of her-an impossible feat that confused Ajda, rendering her momentarily immobile.

“You speak Russian,” the woman said.

A statement, not a question.

Alarmed, Ajda swiveled her head to look at the others, for fear they might be coming for her. But to her further surprise, the table was empty except for four untouched cups of tea. There was no other indication that the men had ever been here at all.

“You’re quite lovely,” the woman continued, now speaking Turkish with the fluency of a native. And as Ajda tried to move past her, she quickly discovered that her immobility was not temporary at all.

The woman looked her straight in the eyes. And just as Ajda had feared, this was no ordinary gaze. It felt as if a foreign entity had invaded her body.

But not, she realized, an unpleasant one.

“I’m sure all the boys adore you,” the woman said, then gave her a small, knowing smile. “And perhaps some of their sisters, too?”

Then, without even a hint of hesitation, she reached forward and gently cupped Ajda’s left breast, brushing a neatly manicured thumb across the fabric covering her nipple.

To Ajda’s astonishment, she was not offended nor embarrassed by this. It didn’t bother her that a complete stranger was touching her in a place that no woman had ever touched. It didn’t even concern her that the door to the cafe was unlocked and that someone might walk in at any moment.

It was as if she were dreaming. A dream she had no desire to awaken from. One with no restrictions, no taboos.

Her senses were whirling. This woman’s touch had stirred something inside her. Something primal. And as her body reacted, she suddenly felt . . . free. Free to act on her impulses without judgment.

“So beautiful,” the woman said, then ran her hands down the front of Ajda’s blouse, unbuttoning it, dropping it to the floor. With a quick, practiced motion, she unhooked Ajda’s bra, then leaned forward and kissed the spot where her thumb had just been.

Ajda didn’t resist.

Had no desire to.

Whatever fear she had felt before had vanished along with her modesty, and she found the sensation of this stranger’s tongue to be quite exhilarating.

Something loosened inside of her, something wet and wonderful-a feeling that Ferid, with all of his fumbling, had never been able to awaken.

And as they sank together to the floor, hands roaming, fingers exploring, all Ajda could think about was the hunger she felt.

She wanted more.

Give me more.