The Netherworlds: Curse of Fate (Book 1)

Alec VanGarrett

The day before the Collector's Gala, Thanatos was patrolling the showroom floor. Collectors had been dropping off their artifacts all week to be put on display. The glass cases had to be locked and sealed with magick after the usual technological security protocols were put in place.

Over the epochs, so many artifacts had been stolen from places, despite all of their magickal protections, with some mundane modes of thievery. When one relies solely on the complexities of magick, one tends to make trivial and detrimental oversights, which thieves who think themselves Indiana Jones take full advantage of.

Death would never allow himself, or his company, to be disgraced by such mindless mistakes. Thus, every precaution was taken on nights like this: ample security guards, cameras, motion lights, weight sensors, heat detection, and other anti-theft systems. These measures are taken long before they apply the aura detectors, magick blocks, force fields, protection symbols, devil's traps, and hex charms.

Thanatos is not a nervous or paranoid man. He is observant and prepared.

With his deadly reputation, no one had ever tried to infiltrate one of his Collector's Galas. In the event someone ever did, his reputation as a fierce and powerful businessman would be soiled, so Thanatos made sure many would die before that became possible. If anyone stepped onto the property with even so much as a thought of stealing from one of his clients or himself, they would incinerate so suddenly, no one would ever know that they had been there. Not even a speck of ash would remain to be swept up by the janitorial staff.

A grating and familiar voice broke his concentration. "Thanatos."

Death turned around to see a short man. Everyone was short compared to Death.

The man with shoulder-length blond hair approached him. The man was dressed in expensive turn-of-the-century French attire, and he sported an ornate cane for fashion purposes only. It was tucked under his arm.

"Alec. What can I help you with?"

With his top hat in hand, Alec gestured towards the offices, "I was hoping I might have a private word with you."

"If this is regarding your night clubs, I've told you before I'm not interested." Death made to brush the Vampire Prince off.

But, Alec quickly added, "Though, I hope to change your mind on that particular subject, I hope to speak to you about a more private matter."

Thanatos then knew that Alec wanted to speak with him about his sire, Victor Devereaux, and Death's curiosity got the better of him. He publicly supported the Devereaux House, and was well aware of the drama Alec was concocting. Perhaps this was his chance to belittle some sense into Alec. The prince was young and rebellious, and would soon learn the error of his ways.

Thanatos nodded and led the way to his office. Alec followed with the pretentious sound of his cane echoing off the stone hall.

They entered through a large wooden door, which Thanatos magickally unlocked with the slightest flick of his wrist, without so much as missing a step. The walls were lined with shelves of books, and Death moved behind the desk, gesturing Alec to sit before him.

Alec rested his cane on the arm of the chair and placed his top hat in his lap.

Thanatos's decorum forced him to have to wait for Alec to situate himself before he could finally sit. He leaned back and steepled his fingers.

Death said, "Say what you've come here to say."

Alec readjusted in his seat, reading his mental notes with haste, "Thanatos, I've come here, as you are a man my father and I both greatly respect. I trust you are aware of the rift growing between my father and myself?"