It hadn't been Navuh's intention to kill all the gods. It had been an accident. It hadn't been his fault. The fault was with Annani, who had started the chain of events.
"I don't really care who started what," Kian said. "Playing the blame game does not benefit anyone. The facts are that you've done everything in your power to undermine our efforts and killour people. We were trying to continue the work of the gods you pretend to care so much for, while you continued your father's hateful legacy."
"The gods were delusional. Humans were created to be slaves, to serve the gods, and they are incapable of governing themselves. You blame me and the Brotherhood for all the ills of the world, but we wouldn't have been so successful if the ground wasn't fertile for the seeds we sowed. I've built an empire on pragmatism, and your people got in my way. If Annani had stayed hidden, I would have left her alone."
Kian snorted. "And you expect me to believe that when you spit venom every time you say my mother's name? Don't pretend like this is not a personal vendetta."
"It's not, but I don't expect you to take my word for it. Your mother is not important enough for me to design my empire around her demise."
Kian appeared in his field of vision again, standing over the bed with his arms crossed. His expression was thunderous, and his eyes burned with barely contained fury.
"Your entire organization is built on hatred toward my mother and all she represents. Without her and the clan, you would have nothing to rile your army of hoodlums around. You needed someone for them to hate with passion, and a goddess was the perfect target because she was eternal. You didn't need to come up with new targets for their hate every time one died off."
The guy was smart to figure that out, but his acknowledgement didn't change anything about their dynamics.
"Bravo. I would have clapped, but I can't move my arms."
"What do you want to offer my mother?" Kian demanded.
"I will only speak of that to her." Navuh closed his eyes. "I'm tired. Please leave."
He expected Kian to splutter something about Navuh having no say in whether he stayed or departed, or something about Navuh being at his mercy, but Kian did neither.
He just left, and the door closed behind him.
16
DAVE
One week had passed since Navuh and the ladies had vanished, and everyone on the island still believed that their lord was in the harem with his ladies.
That was largely thanks to Dave and his clever compulsion of convincing everyone that Navuh was still around, but also to Losham, who had stepped into the leadership vacuum with the kind of smooth efficiency that suggested he'd been preparing for this moment for a long time.
Perhaps he had.
In an organization built on ambition and ruthlessness, every one of Navuh's sons probably dreamed of the day they'd take the top spot.
Dave wandered around the sprawling basement beneath Navuh's mansion, all eight of him spread across multiple areas, searching through storage rooms and alcoves. The sensation of operating as one consciousness across eight bodies had become natural. It was like having sixteen hands instead of two, eachcapable of independent movement while still answering to a single mind.
It was useful for searching. One body could examine a locked cabinet while another inventoried the contents of a supply closet. Information flowed between them seamlessly, each discovery instantly known to all eight and cataloged in their hive mind.
Their compulsion ability was growing stronger, too. Or rather, more refined. In the early days after their awakening, the power had been a blunt instrument—effective but imprecise, like using a flamethrower to light a candle. Now Dave was learning to wield it with precision, to plant specific suggestions rather than broad commands, and to layer compulsions with precision and subtlety. It could be the benefit of having a steady supply of improved drugs. The two Russian scientists were perfecting Zhao's formulas and refining the dosage.
As it turned out, getting smaller injections several times a day was better than having just one massive dose.
It felt good to be in control, to have a clearer combined mind.
Two parts of him had converged on something interesting in a section of the basement he hadn't explored before because it had been sealed behind a heavy steel door that required a keycard to access.
The keycard had been easy enough to obtain. A quick compulsion on one of the guards, and Dave had walked right through. He found works of art that might be valuable, either now or in the future, but they were of no interest to him.
Another part of him was exploring something much more intriguing. A massive glass enclosure, stretching from floor toceiling and spanning at least forty feet in length. The glass walls were at least two inches thick, maybe more, and the glass had that slightly greenish tint that spoke of serious tempering. This wasn't decorative. This was built as a containment chamber.
But of what?
The floor was covered with sand, dunes of it, golden and pristine, filling the enclosure like a miniature desert had been transplanted underground. The sand rose and fell in gentle waves, undisturbed by wind or footsteps, preserved in perfect stillness like a photograph of the Sahara.
Why would Navuh need a climate-controlled sand pit in his basement?
