Beltane rushed forward to open the double doors of the conference room for him. “Ah, everyone is here,” Jasper said to Beltane. “And I can see that you prepared a fine repast for our guests.”
Beltane beamed. “Yes, even the Russian caviar you wanted.”
“Good, good!”
There was a large U-shaped table in the room with name plates arranged at various places. At the end of the room, a buffet table had been set up in front of a windowed wall that gave a panoramic view of the bleak, icy mountains. About fifteen Lucipires stood about, conversing among themselves as they ate and drank. All of them had received personal invitations. They were in humanoid form today, these haakai, mungs, and hordlings, dressed in the finest designer clothing, out of respect for Jasper. Everyone knew he set high standards for his minions and was displeased when they appeared before him in sloppy attire. Even Zebulan the Hebrew, one of his favorite council members, wore a dark brown Hugo Boss suit over a pure white, silk T-shirt, instead of his usual denim braies and Blue Devils cap.
There were also a half-dozen newly turned Lucipires walking about to serve the needs of the visitors—young, naked, nubile men and women with studded collars on their necks and weighted rings hanging from pierced nipples and nether regions. As a special treat for his guests, Jasper had ordered that these young demon vampires be force-fed just one specific fruit for weeks, and now when his guests sampled their blood, they would get hints of pineapples, strawberries, oranges, mangos, pears, watermelon, and so on. If they took a swig of vodka or whiskey first, it would like having a fresh fruit cocktail. Ingenious! he complimented himself.
They all turned as one to stare at him before bowing their heads in deference. Zeb was the only one who dared speak his mind, “Planning to ride broncos at a rodeo, Jasper?”
“There’s an idea,” he commented. “Not for me, though. I think you would look good bouncing your arse on a randy bull.”
At the expression of sudden suspicion on Zeb’s face, Jasper said, “I have a new mission in mind. Not the rodeo, my friend. But we can discuss that later. Everyone, grab a drink and take your seats. Those who are not council members but invited guests can sit anywhere at the end of the table.” He smiled at each of them to let them know he acknowledged their individual presence and was pleased to have them here. It was something he learned from one of his minions who’d written a book called Secrets of a Successful Leader. Unfortunately, that particular fellow had failed to follow his own rules and ended up bilking hundreds of people of their life savings and, worst of all, getting caught at it. Well, unfortunate for his human self. Fortunate for the Lucipires.
When Heinrich tried to take the seat next to him at the center of the U-shaped table, Jasper hip-bumped him to indicate a seat off to the right. Instead, he placed Zeb on one side of him and Hector, a former Roman soldier, on the other side. Yakov, the Russian Cossack, was on Hector’s other side. “As you know,” Jasper said right off, “Zeb and Hector and Yakov are the only members of my High Council left, with the passing of Haroun al Rashid and Dominique Fontaine.”
He bowed his head, and the others followed suit to mark the passing to Hell of their comrades, who had failed as Lucipires and were now doomed to Hell on a permanent basis, though Jasper couldn’t think of a single soul who would mourn Dominique’s absence. Never had there been a more irritating, repulsive creature, even worse than Heinrich, in Jasper’s opinion.
“As a result, the Lucipire command is weakened, and we cannot have that,” Jasper continued. “Therefore, we will fill Haroun and Dominique’s seats on the council today by transferring current members, and add three new people to the council.”
Through his side vision, he could see Heinrich preen, knowing what was coming. Hah! He thought he knew what was coming.
“Hector, you will continue with your base command at Terror.” Hector’s so-named compound was in the catacombs under the Vatican. “It is always a delight to see you tempt the sinners drawn to the Holy City, even the supposed holy ones. Satan is particularly pleased at the increase of sins among the priesthood. We do not like this new pope and his efforts to clean house, so to speak . . . God’s house. So, beware.”
Hector nodded, both an acknowledgment of the compliment and agreement to be diligent in the future. Hector had been a Roman general, once assigned to the Colosseum, where he forced Christians to become lion kibble. He liked staying in Rome, even if it was under what had once been the seat of a great empire. In fact, he still wore his military uniform: knee-high belted tunic with sheathed short sword; cross-tied sandals; gauntlets; a red, satin-lined cape; and a bronzed helmet. If Hector had his way, they would be raising man-eating lions and erecting another Colosseum, perhaps here at Horror.