Forgotten in Darkness Read Online Free Page A

First came calm...and the realization she could speak! And then she returned to dreamland.

Chapter Three
    The Sanctum, Hashishin Headquarters
    Asheville, North Carolina
    “Progress with the newest child?” Terek Nadir asked his exec assistant distractedly in a low gritty voice damaged by the multidecade smoker who had owned this body before he arrived. Before he possessed the real Terek Nadir, and took over. Although used to the name, there were moments when he wanted to correct the Hashishins he led. To yell that he was Djoser. As in Pharaoh Djoser. Not lame-ass Terek. But he lived with it. Camouflage in the Human Realm was necessary. For right now.
    He stared out the window, excitement thrumming through him. Since he’d relocated the headquarters five months ago, they’d turned a corner in the war against the magi. He’d finally acquired his biggest trophy. A pre-magus. Or, at least, he was ninety-nine percent certain this time he’d found the right kid. Now he just had to jolt the boy into remembering his past. Then, he’d extract the info locked inside his skull.
    His assistant, Brant Kiersted, didn’t answer his query. Instead, the guy dropped the daily agenda onto his desk with a satisfied nod. The prick acted like the ten or so typed lines of nonsense revealed the key to eternal life.
    He rotated the sheet and scanned. Shit. Dais training today. Terek’s patience for Hashishin beginners lay somewhere around nonexistent. Fear made them reluctant to attempt even basic spell casting. He would grant their anxiety was well founded. He consistently killed at least one out of frustration on his twice-a-month training day, a definite highlight. Their gutless and lazy attitudes, unlike those of centuries past, didn’t fail to disappoint. Long ago, even the Dais didn’t fear death.
    The leather executive chair creaked as he shifted. His question remained answered only by silence. He trapped his personal assistant with a lethal glare. No one challenged him, not in his organization.
    “Terek, sir…” Kiersted cleared his throat and click-clicked his ballpoint.
    “Speak,” he ordered as he poured himself a cup of tea. Another click-click.
    No answer. Three more click-click cycles.
    Terek whispered an order and his pet shot from his bisht robe sleeve. Only it didn’t strike, not that Kiersted didn’t deserve a little hurt for annoying the shit out of him. The snake knocked the pen from Kiersted’s hand and wrapped its front quarter tight around his fist.
    Kiersted screamed like a two-year-old.
    “Anena, enough.” The viper released and slithered its way home. He had to grin as he absorbed the fear-energy coming off Kiersted. A ripple of strength infused his muscles. The power boost was divine. “You were saying…”
    Kiersted cleared his throat and backed up several feet. “Rishi was pessimistic yesterday. He feels this kid, Cy, isn’t what you’d hoped. The incident in South Africa must have been a fluke. The kid hasn’t divulged anything enlightening. He’s close to breaking in more ways than one.”
    Terek sucked air through his teeth. His daemonic nature peeked from behind the guise of the human body. Sulfur permeated the air. The ambient temperature dropped fifteen degrees.
    He gulped down a cup of scalding tea that was laced with animal euthanasia-strength pentobarbital. Wait for it. Wait for it. Ten seconds later the drug hit his brain like a newly launched boat hitting water—the null-mind void of free floating. The dose would kill a human. He, however, would be lucky if he got an hour of homicidal daemon-rage suppression from this dose. He should’ve gone for the injection. At least then he’d have four to six hours.
    Gods, he hated the handicap of the daemon condition. Sure he was ten times more powerful than the strongest human, and could absorb power from human pain and fear, but as a daemon he was driven with a single-minded motivation to kill all life. To get more power from inflicting