Blood of Jackals by Todd Marcelas Moreno

Author:Todd Marcelas Moreno [Moreno, Todd Marcelas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-15T18:30:00+00:00

XVII

The woman dancing on the stage with comically over-enhanced breasts had fitted each with small suspensor-field generators. Hidden beneath the bulk of her flesh, they gave her breasts the illusion of independent animation. They could dance to the music while she stood still, either together or separately. If one imagined the exposed orbs to be eyes, they could even look about the room in different directions and appear to go cross-eyed. The crowd loved it.

But Anios Tenatte’s thoughts were elsewhere. The NDB-led DuCideon Brotherhood was moving in on the Consortium’s business operations where theirs overlapped. They even undercut their prices, despite Vaid Ketrick’s attacks on their production and manufacturing facilities. This needed to be redressed, along with the murder of Tenatte’s emissary to Crucidel.

Not that the man mattered. Tenatte had expected the message to be the death of the messenger. But honor was honor. And Lilth and Jordan’s proposal to open all underground operations to competitive bidding was unacceptable. Did they want a Hidden War between the Consortium and the Brotherhood? Perhaps they thought that since the NDB now controlled Brotherhood on Legan, Tenatte would refrain from violence. It was a worthy consideration, he admitted, but one never revealed weakness to an enemy unless it was to lure him into a trap. If the Consortium blinked before the NDB without an immediate victory to show for it, its credibility would take years to reestablish, meaning years of lost profits.

With a side glance, Tenatte saw Curin Morays leave his table with several girls in tow, having made his after-dinner dessert selections. That one was another problem. Uncouth and impatient, he was boorish beyond human toleration, quite a condemnation coming from one of Tenatte’s experience. Fast drugs and recreational women would only preoccupy Curin for so long. He would have to let the Morays oaf make his political move on his uncle Jordan soon.

The club’s manager came up beside Tenatte. As a show of respect to the owner, his path of approach had kept him within Tenatte’s peripheral vision the entire time. “Ketrick is here,” the man said.

“Is he alone?” Tenatte asked, his voice grinding.

“Yes. We’re holding him downstairs.”

“Send him up,” Tenatte breathed. Ketrick knew better than to come to the club. That meant either something serious had happened, or was about to happen.

As Vaid Ketrick reached the upper level, a new dancer floated down to the stage riding what appeared to be a cloud. Suspensor fields and the latest in holographic imaging may have brought new artistry to these shows, but judging by the woman’s figure beneath the ancient warrior-goddess garb, the basic elements of a successful performance were the same. As if on cue, the stern battle goddess tore off her breastplate and swung her bludgeons to battle readiness.

“So, are all the funeral directors on strike, Vaid?” Tenatte asked.

Ketrick smiled, but knew that Tenatte was annoyed. His coming here risked linking his attacks on the NDB to Tenatte. The problem was that the link had already been made. “We took one of the NDB Brothers captive on the last raid,” said Ketrick.

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