Blood Warrior(31)

Alex lit a match and touched it to the candle wicks. A soft glow lit the room and let him safely climb out of his coffin. When he slammed the lid shut, the hollow sound reverberated off the stone walls and quickly died. He wedged his large feet into his slippers, padded to the wide steel door and punched a series of numbers into an electronic keypad. The door emitted a soft whooshing sound when the lock released.

Yawning, he stepped through the door and into a maze of tunnels that worked their way into deadly traps scattered throughout his underground chamber. Another whoosh signaled the door locking behind him. With the candelabra in his right hand, Alex moved through the maze and watched the flickering shadows play on the walls.

Alex stopped short and blinked. He saw what he thought was Malcolm's face, shining menacingly in the light ahead. He held the candles out toward the face, but the image wavered in the candlelight and disappeared.

Hmmmm, he thought, perhaps the night ahead will prove eventful after all.

Except for his echoing footsteps, the tunnels were deadly silent. Once he reached the end of the tunnels, he faced yet another heavy steel door with an electronic lock. Again, Alex entered a code on a keypad and exited the tunnels into a small closet.

Finally, he came to a thick oak door that simply needed a key. He removed the key from the pocket of his pajama shirt. Alex unlocked the door, entered the actual bedroom of his house, and relocked the entryway to the tunnels like he always did.

More out of habit than concern, Alex scanned the room with all his senses. Despite popular legend, the many mirrors in the room reflected his image off each other.

Alex gazed longingly at the four poster bed in which he never slept. The thick mattress was clothed in burgundy blankets with piles of decorative pillows scattered across the head of the bed. Burgundy and black dominated the color scheme: black carpet, burgundy walls, and sheer black curtains shading the windows.

Preferring the softer light of candles, he bypassed the light switch and went to the dressing table. He placed the candelabra on the table and picked up a candle that stood in a golden holder with biblical carvings on its base. Each time he lit the candle he was reminded of his time in Rome. The things there were so beautiful he couldn’t resist bringing something home for himself.

Alex knew his hobby of decorating bordered on obsessive. He brought back things from his journeys all over the world to put in his main house in Reno. But his house was finished.

On top of that, his casinos practically ran themselves. His place on the Higher Collective only occupied him every now and then.

He found it an awful feeling, having no purpose.

He tried to ignore the weakness that plagued his body with pain, indicating it was time to feed again. Glancing at his nightstand, he noticed the blinking red message light on his cellphone. Pushing back the pangs of hunger, he checked the messages.

Damion’s smooth voice came through the earpiece. “Hey Alex, I’ve set a Collective meeting for tonight. Something is going down with Malcolm ... I really don’t like the feel of it. I think we all need to get together to talk about this one. Eleven, conference room.”

Clicking his phone shut and throwing it on the bed, Alex went to his closet and rummaged through his clothes. With exacting care, he chose a black Armani suit, complemented by a dark red dress shirt. Dark red was his power color, and he loved to feel powerful.

In the connecting bathroom he stripped out of his pajamas. The reflection staring back at him was one that would never change. Until the end of his existence, each time he looked in the mirror, he would see a twenty-eight-year-old man. His harsh Russian features would forever remain without wrinkles, and his coal black hair would never gray. His eyes, though, told the story of his age, and even he could see the stories in them.

His bare arms and chest still held the large muscles of the hardworking man he had been as a mortal. Although, his chest now bore the one mark he had allowed himself to get. He ran his fingers over the red longevity symbol. He had chosen longevity as a marker for being immortal. Like it was yesterday he remembered China and the tattoo shop where he had received the tattoo. As a last minute decision he asked the artist to add the three koi fish in a circle around the longevity symbol because the koi fish were associated with life-long good luck. And he felt like he sure need some of that.

Alex continued to think about China and its rare beauty while he carefully applied a dark, skin-colored foundation to his face and hands to cover his paleness. It was worth the effort to prevent mortals from questioning his light skin. After checking himself in the mirror again, Alex donned his black leather overcoat, a long flowing garment that swept the floor.