Professor Elliot Massey finished the last of his cognac before shrugging into his overcoat. It was late and he was the last one to leave again. He didn’t mind. He liked to spend the last hour or so alone going over the previous day’s results, it kept him up to date with what everyone was doing. He grinned as he remembered some of the rumours he had heard about his prodigious memory. His colleagues seemed to think him remarkable in the sorts of things he could recall about their work. They knew him as someone who oversaw them with a light hand; he wasn’t one to push himself into their research uninvited. So it seemed almost miraculous to them that he knew exactly what they were talking about with the minimum of explanations when they came to him with a problem. He of course, cultivated that persona assiduously.

Elliot put the glass away in his desk drawer, switched off his terminal, and made his way through the darkened lab to the door. He stopped at Sheryl’s work area to switch off her comp. She was always forgetting to do that. A few feet further on, he scooped up some of Dave’s papers and dropped them in his top drawer. He slammed the drawer closed and rattled it to make sure it had locked. Dave was the worst where security was concerned. Sheryl’s comp might have been on, but at least she had logged off before she left. Dave’s was dark, but he was always printing sensitive data and leaving it lying around.

Elliot took a last look around before exiting the lab. He patted his pockets listening for the jingle of his keys before punching in the alarm code on the keypad beside the door. The clunk of electronic bolts shooting home and the reassuring red light blinking upon the control panel informed him all was secure for the evening. Nonetheless, he worked the door handle out of habit then turned away toward the exit.

Outside he paused to turn up his collar against the evening chill. It wasn’t that cold, but he was beginning to feel it more as the years rolled by. He sighed, he was getting old. It happened to everyone eventually, but how had it happened so quickly? Where had his life gone, and what of his grand plans?

My god… you’re actually feeling sorry for yourself!

Elliot scowled at the thoughts going through his mind. He had nothing to feel sorry for… well not regarding his career at any rate. His personal life was another matter. There were things he had not done that he wished he could change, but who didn’t have regrets? The biggest regret of his life was not spending more time with his wife while she lived. That most of all. But they hadn’t known her time was limited. How could they have known? They used to be so good together—a team at work and at home. Her assistance with his work in genetics had netted him the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine way back in 2016. Maureen had been proud of him, he knew she had, but then cancer had stolen her from him and ripped her from the world before they could enjoy the fruits of their labour.

Elliot blinked rapidly trying not to let his burning eyes shed the tears they so wanted to shed. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the goddess had taken Maureen from him so soon, but he had one consolation. She had left him their daughter to care for, not that Susan needed an old man’s help these days. She was grown and looking after him now. Elliot grinned, and then shook his head. She really should have left him to moulder alone and found her own way to love and happiness as he had done at her age, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to regret her continued presence. Looking at Susan was like looking at Maureen when they had first met. They looked so alike.

Elliot rammed his hands deeply into his coat pockets and hurried across the parking lot to his car. His black Mercedes was alone in an ocean of darkness. He shivered and increased his pace a little, but then he stumbled to a halt when one of the shadows came to life and resolved itself into the form of a man. The man did nothing, he simply watched and waited. After a brief hesitation, Elliot continued walking toward his car.

“Professor Massey?”

Elliot stopped fumbling for his keys and said warily, “Yes? Do I know you?”

“Cadmon Blake is my name, sir, we’ve never met. You missed your appointment with Arcadian. Perhaps you wish to reschedule?”

Elliot scowled and turned back to his car. He pointed the remote at the door and pressed the unlock button. “Mister Arcadian and I have nothing to discuss,” he said aiming the words over his shoulder.

“That is where you and he must differ. You should not have inconvenienced him; he doesn’t enjoy being kept waiting or made to look a fool.”

“And I did not enjoy our last conversation,” Elliot snapped and glared at the shadowy figure. “Neither am I enjoying this overly dramatic confrontation you have going, Mister Blake. Say what you want to say and be gone. My daughter is waiting up for me.”

“Ah yes,” Blake said and pursed his lips. He frowned, looking at the ground a moment before raising his eyes again. “Your daughter. How is she doing?”

Elliot gripped the open car door to prevent his hands shaking. “She’s fine.”

Blake closed the distance a little more. “You have spoken with her then?”

Elliot relaxed a little now as more of Blake’s face was revealed in the meagre light. There seemed nothing sinister in it. The face was clean shaven, the eyes a washed out grey. The man wore his hair in what he thought of as a military cut—short almost shaved at the sides, but longer and a little spiky on top. He looked bulky in his overcoat, but Elliot doubted it was due to fat.

“Professor?”

He blinked. “What? No, not today. Look, I have to get going. You tell Mister Arcadian we have nothing to talk about. Tell him not to call me. Tell him that if he keeps insisting on badgering me like this, I’ll call the authorities.” He began climbing into his car, but hands suddenly gripped his shoulders. Before he could yell, he was pulled roughly back out of the driver’s seat. His keys fell from his hand as he wrenched at Blake’s grip, but the man was built like a gorilla and he couldn’t break free. “What are you doing? Let me go, damn you!”

Blake pinned him with his back against the car. “Struggle and I’ll break your arm, Professor,” he said without the slightest trace of emotion in his voice.

Elliot froze.

“Thank you. I do not want to hurt you, sir, but I will if you make me. Arcadian wouldn’t like it if I did so, but if the choice is between you hurt, or me failing his orders, you can guess which I will choose. You can can’t you?”

He swallowed nervously and nodded.

Blake smiled his dead little smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m so very glad you understand my position. Arcadian can be a very hard master to serve. He does not take failure well. Now then, I take it you are unwilling to reschedule your meeting.”

“I suppose I could meet with him.”

“I do not believe you mean that. In anticipation of your reluctance, I’ve arranged for something to persuade you. Take this please.”

Elliot fumbled and nearly dropped the link Blake handed to him. “You want me to call him?”

“Use the speed dial. Press one and then the connect button.”

Elliot did and raised the link to his ear. It rang three times and was answered by a man’s voice.

“Blake, that you?”

“This is Professor Massey. I was told to call this number.”

Blake nodded in approval.

“One moment, sir,” the voice said. A minute of silence followed and then a familiar voice came on the line. “Daddy?”

“Susan!” Elliot glared at Blake. “Where are you, are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right, silly! Mister Arcadian is a wonderful host. How come I didn’t know you two were friends?”

“I err… I must have forgotten to mention him. Where are you?”

“Waiting for you of course! Mister Arcadian was very worried when you missed dinner, but I said you were probably just working late and had forgotten the time. He said he would send someone to collect you. Did his friend find you all right?”

“I’m with his friend right now.”

“Oh good,” Susan said happily. “I’ll see you in a while then. Bye!”

“Wait!” he said, but the line went dead. “You bastard.”

Blake took back his link and slipped it into a pocket. “Insulting me will not help matters, Professor. Arcadian wishes to meet with you tonight. I suggest for your daughter’s sake and your own that you come with me quietly. I have a car waiting.”

Elliot couldn’t see that he had any choice. He followed Blake as he led the way to his car. Blake opened the rear door of a silver four door Jaguar parked not far from the parking lot’s exit. Elliot climbed inside and Blake followed him in. Their driver didn’t speak or even look their way as they settled themselves. He simply piloted the car smoothly out of the lot and into the sparse traffic.

Elliot sat in uncomfortable silence for the entire journey. A couple of times he nearly blurted the questions crowding his brain, but he always held back and left them unvoiced. He had a feeling that Blake wouldn’t tell him even if he knew the answers. With no hope of enlightenment, asking questions would only make his position appear weak. He almost laughed aloud at that. He was being kidnapped, his daughter held ransom to his good behaviour. How much weaker could his position get?

That was a question soon answered.

He had taken no notice of his surroundings during the journey, but remedied that when he felt the car pull off the highway onto a narrow country lane. The car’s suspension was superb and turned what was a terrible surface into a tolerable one. Still, the driver was cognisant of the conditions, and had slowed down to pilot the car safely along the winding turns. The headlights revealed that trees and other vegetation encroached upon the little used lane. There was barely enough room for the car to pass without twigs and branches flensing away its paint.

He eyed his surroundings uneasily.

If Blake had wanted to kill him, he would be dead already, of that he had no doubt, but he could think of no better place to dump a body than this. Left here, he would never be found. He glanced uneasily at Blake only to find the man’s amused countenance already turned his way. He had obviously deduced his concern and it amused him.

“I have already mentioned that Arcadian would take it amiss should you come to harm, Professor.”

“But what about after the meeting?”

Blake’s smile widened and Elliot shivered.

It was as he thought. Mister Arcadian was a man that no one said no to. He had little doubt that whatever the man wanted from him would be unacceptable, but he also knew that the consequences of his refusal would be dire. If it was only his own life at risk, he would have told Arcadian to go hang, but he had Susan to think of. Whatever he had to do to safeguard his daughter, he would do. Arcadian, that bastard, knew it.

The car slowed to a crawl and turned left. A few yards on it halted in front of a pair of tall iron gates. Elliot peered out of his window. He could just make out a high wall mostly obscured by shadows and overgrown vegetation. It was obviously old; it was weathered and covered in clinging vine-like creepers, but the iron gates set into it looked brand new. A man occupying a security booth stepped out and bent to speak with the driver. A few words were exchanged between them and the guard went back inside to open the gates. They were motorised and slid aside on silent bearings into slots cut into the wall. The car eased through the portal and along a driveway toward a large house that he had no problem terming a mansion. The place was huge with many windows blazing cheerily with light. The car stopped opposite the main door of the house. Blake gestured to indicate he should climb out, and joined him a moment later.

The car pulled away, its tyres crunching on the loose gravel driveway, and was soon lost to the night.

“Now what?”

As answer, Blake led him to the door which opened as they neared to reveal a man waiting to welcome them. Light flooded out into the night and the sound of music. He could hear the sounds of laughter and many voices. Obviously there was a party of some sort going on. He stepped inside followed closely by Blake, expecting an introduction to the waiting man, but his surmise that this dapper gentleman was Mister Arcadian was false. He was simply another of Arcadian’s employees—this time playing butler not kidnapper. The butler, if that’s what he was meant to be, was wearing a well-tailored suit of dark grey wool, the silk tie knotted at his throat was a blood red, and the creases in his trousers were so sharp they could probably cut like a knife. He had mousy blond hair parted neatly on the left and very pale blue eyes almost colourless. He was quite short and slim, especially in comparison to Blake who was easily head and shoulders taller. Elliot found himself in the middle position of looking up at Blake and down at the butler.

Blake introduced them. “Professor Massey, meet Morgan Cummings.”

Morgan inclined his head in a brief bow. “Call me Morgan. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Professor. May I take your coat?”

Elliot snorted. “Don’t you think this is all somewhat absurd?” he said, glancing from Morgan to Blake and back again.

Morgan raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“You standing there acting like the perfect English butler as if unaware of my status. My daughter and I have been kidnapped, man!”

“My word, how very dramatic,” Morgan said and smiled. “As for me, I was born in England… Staffordshire to be precise. I’ve been many things in my time, but a perfect English butler did you say? That has never been one of my duties or talents. I’m the Arcadian’s personal aide, not his butler. Now, if I might take your coat?”

He unbuttoned his coat and shrugged out of it. Morgan took it through a door nearby, and into a cloakroom that looked bigger than his entire apartment. A moment later, Morgan reappeared to lead him, with Blake still dogging his heels, deeper into the mansion to meet his host.

They found him entertaining his guests.

“Wait here,” Morgan said, and went to speak with Arcadian.

Elliot edged just inside the room and waited. It was filled with conversation and people enjoying themselves. There were men and women dancing, drinking, laughing, or simply standing around the sides of the room watching the goings on. The room was furnished with what he realised must be genuine period antiques. The floors were polished wood with generous rugs scattered around giving the place a homey feel despite its grandeur. Many fine examples of interesting art were displayed upon the walls, and at any other time he would have enjoyed studying them, but not under the current circumstances. The room was well lit by two huge chandeliers blazing with light hanging from the high ceiling. There were hundreds of little bulbs up there. The chandeliers themselves appeared to be the originals, though for practicality they had been converted from candle power to electric.

He scanned faces searching for Susan and found her dancing with a young man he didn’t recognise—he didn’t recognise anyone in the room except Morgan, who was weaving his way through the crowded room looking for his employer. He started forward to join Susan, but aborted his plan when Blake’s hand descended to grip his shoulder. The man didn’t speak; he simply shook his head slowly.

Damn him!

Morgan paused behind a man talking with a pair of stunningly good looking women. The man, Elliot assumed he was Arcadian, was describing something with many pantomiming gestures and laughter mixed in. The women were hanging upon his every word while occasionally sipping their wine from crystal glasses. Both wore evening gowns and a fortune in jewellery around their necks.

Elliot frowned. The room was full of beautiful people. All the men were young and handsome; all the women were young and beautiful. He doubted any of them was older than thirty, and that seemed strange to him. There wasn’t even one person in the room that he could point to as being plain or even average. All the guests were extraordinary in their good looks and dress, and that was just plain wrong. Arcadian must be someone who liked to surround himself with youth and beauty; it made his fear for Susan more acute. She took after her mother and was exceptionally beautiful in his eyes. He feared Arcadian would see her so also.

Morgan used a pause in Arcadian’s conversation to lean close to him and whisper something. The man cocked his head just a little to listen, nodded and glanced toward the door. From clear across the room Elliot felt the force of that glance like a physical blow. If Blake hadn’t been standing close behind him, he would have stepped back. Arcadian’s gaze pinned him and held him up like a specimen for inspection. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Arcadian let him go by turning back to his two charming companions.

“Holy mother goddess,” he hissed under his breath. “What in the nine hells was that?”

“He often has that effect on those meeting him for the first time,” Blake said, sounding inordinately pleased at his loss of composure.

Morgan rejoined them. “Arcadian will see you momentarily. Follow me.”

He took one last look into the room before following Morgan. Susan was still dancing and enjoying herself. She seemed to have a string of admirers waiting to dance with her. She didn’t know that she was hostage to his good behaviour. With luck she never would.

Morgan led them into a comfortable sitting room that had been turned into an office or private study. Blake pointed to a leather sofa to one side of the room, and Elliot meekly seated himself upon it. Morgan ignored the massive desk that sat before the only window and busied himself at the liquor cabinet. He turned back with two tumblers of cognac. Elliot scowled at this evidence of more prying into his life, but he didn’t refuse the offered drink. He needed one, truth be told.

Blake wasn’t offered a drink or a place to sit.

Morgan joined Elliot on the sofa while Blake stationed himself quietly to one side of the door. Stationed, he mused as he sipped his drink, was a good word for Blake’s attitude. He was on duty, or that was the impression he received from the dour man.

“Can you tell me anything of why I’m here?”

“You know why,” Morgan said. “The Arcadian invited you and a guest to dinner.”

“Invited suggests I had a choice.”

“Had you paid him the courtesy of attending dinner and listening to his proposal, Arcadian would have given you a choice. By insulting him, you forced him to take another path where you’re concerned.”

He finished the last of his cognac and placed the glass on the low table before them. “Research he said. Mister Arcadian mentioned private research when he tried to buy me. What kind of research?”

Morgan began to say something, but then he shook his head and climbed to his feet. Elliot stood to join him, and turned in time to see Arcadian enter the room followed by another man and a woman. The room suddenly felt crowded and not because of Arcadian’s two new companions. He alone was enough to fill the room. Although he was of a height with Morgan and of similar build, Arcadian had a presence that seemed to dominate all he surveyed. Be that an empty room or one full of people, no one could doubt that he ruled it.

Arcadian held out his hand and said, “Welcome Professor Massey, you are welcome indeed.”

He saw no reason not to shake the offered hand. Doing so meant nothing. Not doing so might antagonise the man even further. He shook noticing how cool and dry Arcadian’s hand felt in his. The shake was firm but not a knuckle crusher. He obviously didn’t feel the need to physically dominate those he met. Of course he didn’t, Elliot thought, he had money and lackeys like Blake to do that for him.

“You’ve met Morgan and Cadmon of course,” Arcadian said. “Let me introduce Chani and Peter. Chani especially has been looking forward to meeting you.”

He shook Peter’s hand then turned to stare at Chani. He had to force himself to look away long enough to take the woman’s hand. She was flawless. Her skin seemed to glow with health; her green eyes sparkled like emeralds. He suddenly felt flushed and embarrassed, and knew she had detected his discomposure. The evening gown she had chosen to wear displayed a body that would fulfil every teenage boy’s fantasy. She was long legged, big breasted without being too buxom, and exactly the right height for him to stare into her eyes… which he was doing he realised!

He blushed; he was holding her hand and simply staring at her unable to speak! He shook her hand gently and released it reluctantly. By the goddess, what was wrong with him? He felt intoxicated, and wondered uneasily if Morgan had put something in his drink.

“Pleased…” he almost croaked, and paused to clear his throat. He tried again. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Chani. That’s a beautiful name by the way.”

She smiled. “Thank you. That’s why I chose it.”

“You did?”

“I was born Chanah Mindel. Chanah means graceful in Hebrew, but I like Chani better.”

Arcadian gently guided Elliot back to his seat with a touch on his arm. “Chani is the one person in my household that might possibly be able to understand your work, Professor.”

“Oh?”

Chani smiled. “The basics only I’m afraid. The Arcadian is being kind. I have some medical training, but nothing in genetics.”

The Arcadian kind? Elliot did not think so. The thought that Chani did think so snapped him out of his strange mood. He took his seat and the others settled themselves. Arcadian chose a wing backed armchair that faced the sofa. Blake remained where he was while Morgan took his place next to Elliot and Chani on the sofa. Peter remained standing and fixed himself a drink—tomato juice it looked like.

“First,” Arcadian began. “Let me apologise for the manner in which you were brought here. Your refusal to even meet with me, forced upon us a course of action I would really rather not have taken.”

Elliot scowled. “You kidnapped my daughter and myself. I might forgive you for my abduction. Might. But there’s no forgiveness for dragging my daughter into this. I find it absurd that you would think there might be.”

Arcadian shrugged, the movement slow and cavalier.

“What will it take to get my daughter safely out of here?”

“You insult me,” Arcadian said coldly. “Here under my very own roof you insult me? To think that I would harm a guest…” his eyes blazed with anger but then he calmed as if a switch had been thrown. “No. I will not be angry.”

Elliot twitched in surprise as everyone relaxed or sighed quietly. He glanced at Morgan and then Chani. They were both tense as if they feared the outcome of this meeting. That more than anything he had yet seen scared him. If Arcadian’s own people feared him, perhaps he should be more careful.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll discuss it with you.”

“Oh you will?” Arcadian said in an overly pleased and sarcastic sounding way. “You’ll discuss it with me? You’ll listen with an open mind and not one closed with a decision already foolishly made on scant information?”

“I will.”

“A most excellent decision! If you remember our earlier discussion on the link, you’ll remember that I alluded to your work in genetics, and a private research project I am funding.”

“Immortality belongs in the realm of fantasy not science. The human condition precludes it no matter our superficial resemblance to the Sidhe. Genetics does not lie. The Seelie and Unseelie elves are a separate people and not to be confused with any of the races of man. My work has real applications, serious applications relevant to the human condition as it is, not how some would wish it to be.”

“I remember your position. I also remember telling you how seriously I take this matter. Suspend your disbelief a moment if you will, and answer me this. If I were to introduce you to someone that cannot die—a man or woman let’s say—who is in fact immortal. Would you be able to use your knowledge of genetics to discover why?”

“You’re serious?”

“As death itself, Professor.”

He considered lying, but decided against it. “I’m not sure, but I think not.”

Arcadian didn’t look surprised. “Why not?”

“Because my knowledge of genetics is entirely tied to the human genome. This hypothetical man would be, for all intents and purposes, not human.”

“Almost exactly word for word what the others said before they joined us.”

Morgan shrugged. “A disappointment I’ll admit, but not unexpected. They’re all products of their modern world.”

“You have asked others this question?” Elliot said.

Morgan nodded. “Geneticists, scientists, medical doctors, and researchers… your colleagues, should you decide to join them in their quest.”

“The project is a reality then?”

“It is,” Arcadian said. “What would it take for you to join your colleagues in their work?”

“There’s nothing you could offer that would make me give up my own research, especially not when I don’t believe in the goal.”

“Money?”

“Insulting,” Elliot said mildly. “And no.”

“Fame?”

He snorted.

Arcadian smiled. “Immortality?”

“My daughter and my work are all I have in this world. My wife passed away years ago, and I’m an old man. The thought of immortality at my age, were it obtainable, does not attract me.”

“I think, were certain things made plain to you, you might change your mind about that, but no matter. Let us speak of your daughter.”

“What about her?”

“She is dying is she not?”

“How did you…” he blurted in surprise. “No, it doesn’t matter. Susan is not well, but she isn’t dying.”

“Not yet perhaps, but her condition is incurable is it not?”

He nodded reluctantly. “Research will find a cure eventually.”

“In time to save her?”

“I believe so. I’m close, very close.”

Arcadian pursed his lips and frowned. “Close. Is it possible that you overstate?”

“Anything is possible, but I don’t believe so. Drug therapy will keep her condition under control until my research yields the answer.”

“Any cure will be years in testing.”

Elliot moistened his lips. “I have a way around that.”

“I’m sorry to distress you this way. I’m sure you have many friends willing to bend the rules for you. What if I were to show you another way, a better way?”

“A better way to cure her? But what has this to do with your immortality project? You know I don’t believe in that goal.”

“I know and it doesn’t matter. If you join us, you will come to believe in it, but more to the point right now, you will see a way forward for your daughter.”

“What way?”

“I have a way certain to cure your daughter. One hundred percent certain, and not in years but in days at most. ”

“Impossible!” he gasped but his hopes leapt. A man such as Arcadian, one who was wealthy beyond dreams, might well have contacts that he lacked. If a cure existed and he not aware of it, a man like Arcadian might know.

“Not impossible, just unlikely.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will in a moment. Understand this, my cure for your daughter’s illness is not free. It is not free. You understand?”

“You want me to work on your project.”

“That’s part of it, but only a part. There is a price to be paid by both of you. My project is secret and requires you to keep that secret. Also, you and your daughter will be required to join the others and live with them until the research is complete.”

?