Chapter 5
Animal Husbandry
-- Cuman Union Compound : Brooklyn --
Pain.
All it knew was pain.
As the charred clothing was ripped from its torso, the assassin did not flinch. It would not give these humans the gratification of observing its suffering. No muscle rippled. Not a whimper escaped its throat. Statues exhibited more life.
The Régiek, the Ancients, worked without a care to its comfort. They had been trained since birth to regard the immortal as an animal, a thing. The Régiek, forbidden from knowing the creature’s name, called it Kutya.
Kutya, Hungarian for dog.
The dog watched his nemesis as the Régiek tore at its flesh. The young man, bald like his father, smiled at the painful process. During one thousand years of captivity Kutya had known many of the Fej to be sadists. Its intuition, finely honed through torture in this chamber and a dozen others like it, told it to be wary.
It feared this one could be the worst yet.
--
“What must we do for you?” Kiril asked.
Kiril knew the answer but delighted in tormenting poor Kutya. Kiril was neither Régiek nor Gyilkosok; the only two castes of the Cuman Union allowed contact with Kutya. He presided over the treatment of the assassin as his father’s son, the future Fej, Kiril Szábacs, heir to the Cuman Union and the entire Kochoba clan.
Soon Kutya would be his pet.
“I wonder,” Kiril mused. “What must we do to restore you to your former glory?”
The Ancients knew better than to respond to Kiril. They went about the unpleasant business of stripping Kutya of all foreign material taking strips of flesh in the process. Lesser Régiek gathered the scraps for disposal in an incinerator that resided in a room adjacent to Kutya’s chamber.
“Maybe a bath?” Kiril ventured, sniffing the air. “You smell horrible.”
The door to the chamber opened. Ferenc Gera entered holding a scented rag to his face.
“Your father comes.”
The door shut behind him.
“The smell of immortality does not agree with you, Ferenc?”
Ferenc glanced at Kiril then turned to the Régiek.
“When will it be ready?”
“The days of you ignoring me will be at an end, shortly, Ferenc,” Kiril snapped. “I would remember that if I were you.”
“My life will be yours to do with as you wish, Kiril,” Ferenc replied. “That is our way.”
Ferenc paused for a moment waiting for something more from Kiril. When nothing came he turned his attention back to Kutya.
“The Fej comes. When will it be ready?”
“Soon!”
This sharp response came from Sarolta, high priestess of the Ancients. Her gnarled hands continued to work on Kutya, as she muttered instructions in ancient Cuman to her charges. She paid no mind to the obvious tension between Ferenc and Kiril. Conflict between the heir to the clan and the leader of the Testőr, the praetorian guard of the Fej, always materialized in the days before the Csere. One’s time to wield ultimate power approached while the other witnessed the waning days of his.
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The Law of Three
Mystery / ThrillerHere's a story of madness, of lost religion, of the mafia and vampires, of unusual loves. If you hated Twilight, you might like this. Even if you liked Twilight, you might like this. Written by a casual historian and skilled novelist, I'm posting it...
