Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Lee Swift
the bottle he had brought on the floor. He ran his fingers over the wooden wall where the shelf had been until he found the slight indentation. Pressing on it, he heard the familiar click.
Nineteenth century technology at its best.
He spun around one hundred and eighty degrees, facing the closed door. To the left of the top hinge the flap of the small compartment was open. The compartment, just big enough for one hand, housed the lever.
He reached in and turned the metal as quietly as possible. Thankfully at this hour, the only ears that could have picked up the grinding of the metal in the walls belonged to his trusted guard, Albert who, like him, was a member of the Bathry Bloodline.
Bathry turned to his left. The wall, now revealed to be a secret door, swung open. He walked into the new space constructed of metal, smaller than the closet.
He glanced at the two biometric scanners, his addition to the measures protecting the chamber below.
Twenty-first century technology at its best.
He placed his hands on the scanners. All ten of his fingerprints were required to unlock the security doors to the stairs that led to the chamber below. Failure at any step of the authentication process would result in the entire metallic space receiving 10,000 volts of electricity. Should any of his bloodline’s enemies discover this place, they would receive quite the shock.
Even the simplest mistake made by him, and the next in the Bathry succession, his sister Lisa, would be called by Albert to come for his corpse.
What a pain she could be. On his mobile were two voicemails and several text messages from her just since half past ten last night, all of which had gone unheard and unread. He did not have time for her babble.
Lisa had no knowledge of this place. Or of the man he had brought the whisky for. Or of the deeds that had been done on behalf of their family. What a surprise it would be to Lisa if she ever learned of their father’s master plan.
Bathry could not imagine her leading their bloodline. So let her continue with the hosting of parties and travelling the world. It suited her. Meanwhile, he would work to elevate their family to its rightful status.
As always, he proceeded cautiously.
“Welcome, Mr. Bathry,” the computer announced. “Please say your name, your title, and provide your personal access code.”
“David Jonathan Simon Bathry, Heir of the Plan, and Keeper of the Morvicti Bathry Bloodline.” Though the devices used to unlock the final door had changed, the rest of the codex had remained the same for nearly one hundred thirty years. It represented the beginning of what was transpiring at long last. “Nineteen-eleven-eighteen-eighty-eight.”
The date of Mary Jane’s funeral—the nineteenth day of the eleventh month of the year 1888.
Hearing the locks give way, he retrieved the bottle. The metal slid open and the passage to the stairs leading down to the chamber came into view.
He left the doors open, expecting his associate to return shortly. The task he had given his prized protégé would be his final errand. Justice had come.
Descending the stairs, Bathry came to the last door. He opened it, walking into the lavish room. Elaborate crown molding and baseboards framed the space. A pair of gorgeous crystal chandeliers hung from the coffered ceiling. The sofas and chairs were upholstered in luxurious blue fabrics. The massive Persian rug spread out over the dark wooden floor had cost him fifty thousand pounds alone. Additional antiques and plush furnishings filled the chamber; a true gilded cage for the beast.
He looked at the second biometric scanner that had been placed in this subterranean floor as a precaution just a few days ago when his accomplice had veered from the plan.
A single hand of his digital prints was the only requirement to leave. No voice recognition was needed to exit, only to enter. Still, a nice way to keep his friend from escaping without his knowledge.
After years of
Nineteenth century technology at its best.
He spun around one hundred and eighty degrees, facing the closed door. To the left of the top hinge the flap of the small compartment was open. The compartment, just big enough for one hand, housed the lever.
He reached in and turned the metal as quietly as possible. Thankfully at this hour, the only ears that could have picked up the grinding of the metal in the walls belonged to his trusted guard, Albert who, like him, was a member of the Bathry Bloodline.
Bathry turned to his left. The wall, now revealed to be a secret door, swung open. He walked into the new space constructed of metal, smaller than the closet.
He glanced at the two biometric scanners, his addition to the measures protecting the chamber below.
Twenty-first century technology at its best.
He placed his hands on the scanners. All ten of his fingerprints were required to unlock the security doors to the stairs that led to the chamber below. Failure at any step of the authentication process would result in the entire metallic space receiving 10,000 volts of electricity. Should any of his bloodline’s enemies discover this place, they would receive quite the shock.
Even the simplest mistake made by him, and the next in the Bathry succession, his sister Lisa, would be called by Albert to come for his corpse.
What a pain she could be. On his mobile were two voicemails and several text messages from her just since half past ten last night, all of which had gone unheard and unread. He did not have time for her babble.
Lisa had no knowledge of this place. Or of the man he had brought the whisky for. Or of the deeds that had been done on behalf of their family. What a surprise it would be to Lisa if she ever learned of their father’s master plan.
Bathry could not imagine her leading their bloodline. So let her continue with the hosting of parties and travelling the world. It suited her. Meanwhile, he would work to elevate their family to its rightful status.
As always, he proceeded cautiously.
“Welcome, Mr. Bathry,” the computer announced. “Please say your name, your title, and provide your personal access code.”
“David Jonathan Simon Bathry, Heir of the Plan, and Keeper of the Morvicti Bathry Bloodline.” Though the devices used to unlock the final door had changed, the rest of the codex had remained the same for nearly one hundred thirty years. It represented the beginning of what was transpiring at long last. “Nineteen-eleven-eighteen-eighty-eight.”
The date of Mary Jane’s funeral—the nineteenth day of the eleventh month of the year 1888.
Hearing the locks give way, he retrieved the bottle. The metal slid open and the passage to the stairs leading down to the chamber came into view.
He left the doors open, expecting his associate to return shortly. The task he had given his prized protégé would be his final errand. Justice had come.
Descending the stairs, Bathry came to the last door. He opened it, walking into the lavish room. Elaborate crown molding and baseboards framed the space. A pair of gorgeous crystal chandeliers hung from the coffered ceiling. The sofas and chairs were upholstered in luxurious blue fabrics. The massive Persian rug spread out over the dark wooden floor had cost him fifty thousand pounds alone. Additional antiques and plush furnishings filled the chamber; a true gilded cage for the beast.
He looked at the second biometric scanner that had been placed in this subterranean floor as a precaution just a few days ago when his accomplice had veered from the plan.
A single hand of his digital prints was the only requirement to leave. No voice recognition was needed to exit, only to enter. Still, a nice way to keep his friend from escaping without his knowledge.
After years of
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