Page 23 of Nazab

He was about to speak when the ham radio crackled, drawing their attention and ruining the moment. “Good morning, survivors!” one of his hated enemies said in a smooth, practiced tone. “This is Xathan, speaking to you from the Empire State Building in Manhattan. As Governor Giamano promised, supplies have begun arriving and we’re ready to restore this glittering city to its former glory. We urge you to continue bringing your own food to ensure no one goes hungry. Everyone is welcome and no one will be turned away.”

“What a damn liar,” Monica said with a scowl.

“This is the Mad Prophet,” the oracle they’d been hoping to hear from said a moment later. “Xathan is a tool of evil and he can’t be trusted,” he said in a tone that sounded slightly insane. “If you choose to believe his slick snake oil salesman pitch, you’ll either end up a slave, or in a watery grave.”

He went silent and Monica shivered in reaction. “He’s the real deal,” Nazab concluded. “Fate’s definitely using this male as her conduit.”

“He didn’t give us any clues about what we’re supposed to do,” his female said. “I knew that Xathan guy was a snake the first time I heard his voice,” she added darkly. “I can tell he’s just pretending to be a good guy.”

“Xathan’s always been the spokesperson for Rahab when dealing with humans,” Nazab said. “They’re all evil to the core. None of them are able to feel compassion or empathy. They don’t even care about each other. Xathan is the most civilized warrior on the surface, but he’s a savage beneath his façade. I once saw him butcher a woman and her young child in a past era when they saw him call on his sword. He probably didn’t want them to alert the whole village about what they’d seen. There was no remorse at all on his face when he slaughtered them.”

Their happy mood had been shattered, so they concentrated on the map and tried to figure out what to do next.

Chapter Seventeen

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XATHAN STARED OUT THE window, feeling restless after making his daily radio announcement. He wished he’d witnessed Thamuz’ offspring in action when they’d located the cambion two days ago. Instead, he’d chosen to remain in Ivy Roche’s bed. Hearing the events secondhand over the walky-talky and then from Phul the next morning hadn’t been adequate.

“The female must have been responsible for the withered body the militants discovered in the Bronx,” he said with a frown. The mercs had run into an armed scavenger, who’d shot three of them dead, or so they’d believed. Xathan had a different idea of what had happened. “The cambion can transfer energy rather than just stealing it like her kind have done in the past,” he figured. “She must have used it to give Nazab a boost of power.”

Something similar had happened to Berit after his spawn had siphoned all of the fluids from his body. Wynter McBaird had used his life essence to heal herself, but that was before her magic had kicked in. Maybe all cambions had that ability and none of them had ever known it before.

“No,” he decided after reviewing everything he knew about their kind. “We would have seen signs of the younglings stealing energy from their sires long before now if it was a common power,” he murmured. “Thamuz’ daughter has figured out how to utilize her talent since she’s had over a decade of practice. The other cambions like her in the past merely didn’t reach their full potential.”

It wasn’t a coincidence that the shriveled husk had been located near where the knight had landed. Somehow, Nazab and the cambion had found each other, just like all of the other couples who’d become paired up. Rahab had been livid that the pair had escaped.

“He went on his worst rampage yet,” the advisor said, running his hand over his bald scalp. Phul hadn’t mentioned many details of the slaughter and he’d been acting cagey ever since the incident had occurred. “Something worse than usual happened,” Xathan said with utter certainty. “Rahab has forbidden his second in command from speaking about it.”

Xathan wasn’t sure what their commander could have done that was worse than anything they’d already seen him do. “Maybe it’s for the best if I don’t know,” he said wryly. It didn’t really matter what the act had been. The signs that their leader was cracking were becoming more obvious. Cleaning up his latest mess would have been too time consuming, so they’d torched the corpses instead.

Phul had overseen the coverup operation while Rahab had visited the prepper medic in his clinic. He’d been wounded during his rampage and had needed a bullet removed. The human’s memory of the procedure would have been wiped when he was done, of course.

The militants were spooked that they’d lost several groups who’d been searching Long Island for survivors and supplies. Creel Lawson had commanded them to band together. Instead of groups of eight or ten, they’d been sorted into groups of twenty now.

“As if that will save them from Rahab’s wrath,” Xathan scoffed beneath his breath. He’d been keeping his voice too low for his guards to hear him. There was no loyalty in their squad and he couldn’t trust anyone. They hadn’t gossiped about his affair with Ivy Roche yet. He figured it was because of the vicarious enjoyment they got out of hearing the receptionist’s pleasure.

His thoughts returned to their enemies and the females they were being matched with. Fate was setting her pawns up to have happy, fulfilling lives if they won this final war. The soldiers didn’t have the same deal.

“None of us can even procreate now,” he murmured with a scowl. They couldn’t impregnate any of the females they used for their pleasure. It wasn’t fair that Amaros and his brothers could create an entirely new breed of offspring with the females they were mating with.

“Speaking of which,” he said. “Wynter McBaird must have given birth to her spawn by now.” He wondered what the child was like and if it had any magic yet.

Rising to his feet, he crossed to a window and stared at the view. What would his life have been like if he’d been given a chance to choose one of the cambions? His upper lip lifted at the thought of needing to provide for a female and their progeny. He didn’t have it in him to care about anyone except himself.

Like the rest of his comrades, he’d sired cambions many times during their past wars. Xathan had never felt anything except annoyance when their enemies destroyed his offspring. They’d just been useful tools to him to use against their foes.

“I don’t care if Xanthia Xen perishes either,” he said. Her talent wasn’t even particularly useful compared to what some of the other cambions could do. “She was blessed with heightened intelligence and she didn’t accomplish anything noteworthy before the Rapture,” he said contemptuously.

Sensing a human approaching his office, he strode over to his desk and sat down. A soft knock came at his door a moment later. “Enter!” he called out, already knowing who it was.

Ms. Roche stepped inside and gave him a sultry smile. “I brought you some coffee, Xathan,” she said, nudging the door shut with her foot. She swung her hips seductively as she walked over to his desk. She was undeniably pretty in her pale blue matching blouse and skirt, but he wasn’t in the mood for sex.

“Thank you, Ivy,” Xathan said politely. “I’m afraid I’ve been called to a meeting, so I’ll need to leave soon.”

“Oh,” she said with a small frown, then put the mug on his desk. “Will I see you later?” she whispered.

“Perhaps,” he replied, unwilling to commit himself. Ivy sighed, then reluctantly left his office.