Do Or Die

Chapter 2

Viktor led the Darksmith and his apprentice through the double doors of the top floor, past the portraits of former Ministers of Finance who had reined over the national Ministry of the preceding years. He led them to the second conference room, which had the title "Scarlet Ibis" engraved over the double doors.

Viktor barged into the room unceremoniously. They had booked the room for a meeting and had assured the building's caterers that they would provide their own helpers. They would remain undisturbed until the watchman made his patrol later that night.

Viktor surveyed the board. His manservant Grigori, a pale figure with a bushy beard and mustache and an aristocratic nose, stood on the far side of the room facing the expansive windows. His attention had been drawn to the darkening skies. "Striking view, isn't it." His gaze never wavered; his reflection in the glass was a clear mimicry. "Like having a clear view of what is to come." Grigori turned to face Viktor.

He sniffed Viktor's collar, his brows shot up, Grigori snickered at the scent of silver that lined Viktor's waistcoat and jacket that assailed him, " a tad...immature?" Grigori lent accusingly.

Viktor's attention had already been caught by the sight of the other young boy in the room. He sat on a chair in the corner. Nikolai, sullen, looked out at the same intense weather. The dark clouds rolling in from the horizon were nearly upon the shoreline. The deep-barreled rumbling and flashes of lightning promised a dire circumstance to the evening. Viktor sighed, annoyed. He drew himself up beside Grigori. "What the hell Grigori, this is not a family affair!" he ground out quietly.

Grigori looked at him, unfazed by his master's aura of malice. "I am not to leave young master unattended. He is quite traumatized by the events that occurred last night – you should have a word..." Viktor walked away from him.

Had Viktor paid attention to what he had said? Grigori scowled as he watched Viktor grab the weapon that had wanted repair. Grigori's attention, too, had been stirred by the remarkable aesthetics of the club. Hell's Embrace, Viktor's superior weapon, had been chipped badly during his last battle.

The club was about two and a half feet in height, its weight – hefty. Though as a man of strong build Viktor felt no extremity in wielding it. The wood the club was made of was jagged, but smooth to the touch, as though chiseled from a tree trunk and then sandpapered with exquisite care. Its crown was encrusted with clear, hard crystals and black moon rock. Spikes adorned its circular rim.

Viktor waved his arm in a clean, effortless downward motion. Whoosh; the sound sliced the air. The top of the club sparkled like stars in the night sky, as though with energy born from the swift movement. Viktor was visibly appreciative of the weapon. He brought the club to lay across his palm. Sighing, he walked across to Nikolai.

The boy's puffy eyes and red nose were marked signs that he had been crying. Viktor spoke resoundingly in his native language. "You see this club. I'm going to find the man who took your mother, and I'm going to use this club to beat him within an inch of his life..." He looked down, dead straight into the boy's unwavering stare. "Then I'm going to kill him." The exchange seemed to cheer Nikolai up, because a slow smile dared to grace his lips.

"Fantastic," Grigori thought, pulling out his ringing cell phone. "At least they seem to speak each other's language."

"I trust the club is to your liking." Brighton would rather take his leave now and make an early flight out of the country. This stop was one of four for the evening, his obligation to the Maxcks were purely sentimental.

"Ah yes, heavier than I am used to..." Viktor kept admiring his piece.

"That may be 'cause of the added inner component you requested." Brighton pointed at the weapon in Viktor's hand. "Dead center, as per your instructions."