Footsteps echoed down the long hallway as eloquent Italian leather shoes slapped against the tile floor. Rain pattered down on the plethora of large glass windows that covered one side of the hall. The moon’s unearthly glow shined down magnificently, casting shadows through the water covered windows.

Harold Bessinger adjusted his glasses on his face. He’d rather look out at the gloomy weather rather than look to his left. He had walked this hallway a hundred times and it still made him uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and kept his shoulders relaxed and his back straight. He had to keep an air of control and confidence around him.

Harold glanced to his right out of curiosity. A line of men stood apart every few feet along the hallway, if you could call them men. Each one was turned into an immortal of the night, and then they were trained for centuries, racked with strict discipline to obey every command. Their faces were covered with a mask imbued with gold and turquoise. A long snout stuck out from the mask, effectively creating a beak, so to speak.

The Honor Guard of Ra was a danger only few knew of, and Harold knew them well; Warriors of pride and honor, who would fight to the death for their master. Harold was well accustomed to their presence, but he kept his distance. Even after all these years, he kept a distance from these creatures.

Harold Bessinger pulled his briefcase even tighter to his body as he had before. At the end of the hallway, he finally reached his destination. He knocked on the door, and it instantly opened.

Wood crackled and split as the bright fire consumed it. Light blasted from the fireplace, accompanied by shadows dancing about the room. The dark wooden floor remained cold while the fire raged. Books lined the shelves around the room, some only accessible by ladder.

Planted in front of the roaring fire was a large, dark leather chair. Its’ occupant was hidden behind the overly large back of the chair. A hand soon materialized out of the left side of the chair, and reached out to the small table next to it. The hand’s long fingers wrapped around a goblet, overgrown fingernails clicked on the delicate glass. “You are letting the warmth out. Please, Harold, come in.”

The heavy voice hit Harold’s ears with a thick Arabic accent. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“What is it you have to say?” The hand retracted behind the chair, “I am in the middle of some light reading.”

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Harold swallowed the lump in his throat. He hated bringing news to Ra, good or bad. He couldn’t tell how Ra would react. “Ra, there is a problem back home.” Harold lifted his briefcase to a table nearby.

“No documents, Harold.” Ra set down his empty glass on the end table and waved his hand, “Just tell me what you have to say. I’ve ran my clan for thousands of years without documents. You are a good man, and you fascinate me with how well you run my affairs. No other has done what you have. THAT, is why you are the Voice of Ra.” Ra slammed his book shut and set it down on the table with a loud thump.

Harold was amazed by the thickness of the book, but Ra’s words of confidence instilled a new strength in Harold. He cleared his throat, “It is a problem with the clan, more importantly, the rebels that have taken to destroying the old clans. With the death of your cousin, the rebels now know the clans can be defeated.” Harold loosened his tie, “Three more of our men were killed after one of your concubines had escaped. We believe she was saved by Andrelle, and her psychic husband. Without you in the territory, others have seen that she and her rebels are standing up to the once powerful vampire clans. This situation is getting out of hand. I am persuaded in thinking that you should return to your domain at once, and bring the fear your name carries with you.” Harold held his head high, with the strong words he had spoken, he did not know if Ra would take this news well.

“Andrelle.” The deep voice carried a small hatred with it. “If I’d know that she would be such a problem to our plans, I would have killed her with her father.” There was a long moment of silence. “Unfortunately, I cannot return with you. I have a meeting with the leader of the Institute that I will not miss. It is the lifeline of our cause. This mess back east must be dealt with by you. I want those in charge of guarding my harem executed publicly.”

Bessinger did not think fondly on the killing of his affiliates, “But we need all the soldiers we can muster at this time. The rebels will soon outnumber us. The clan knows this.”

Ra laughed.

Harold nodded even though his master could not see him. Harold was hoping that Ra would accompany him back to Italy. The vampires did not look on Harold with respect. He was only a human after all. This task would be easier said than done. “I doubt the vampires of your clan would listen to what I have to say.”

Ra waved his hand at the door, “Take the Honor Guard. The clan will listen to you then, or they will be cut down. You find these rebels, and I will send you the army you need to take them out. I have friends all over this world, some of them in very low places.”

Harold gathered his papers into his briefcase. He knew this conversation was over. Ra had made up his mind. Even now, while staring at the back of the leather chair, Harold wished his master would change his mind.

Harold glanced at the empty glass next to Ra, “Shall I get you a refill before I part?”

Ra picked his book up from the table, “Do not demean yourself with such paltry tasks. You are the Voice of Ra. Go and command my followers with pride.”

Harold held his head high. He turned and stormed out of the study. He looked the first of the Honor Guard in the face, “You are with me.” He turned down the hall, “All of you.” The Honor Guard turned and saluted Harold Bessinger in one fluid motion.

Harold smiled, “We have work to do.”