Hostile Genus: An Epic Military Sci-Fi Series (Invasive Species Book 2) by Ben Stevens (historical books to read TXT) 📕

of a submarine's periscope, Jon rotated his head now to the right and scanned for the two sentries that he knew would be there.

The one closest to him sat fully on the edge of the wall, his back completely to the scrub, and grinned at the show in the distance like a simpleton. Jon could see the man’s face clearly (the first one of the bunch so far) and saw no red eyes. Furthermore, he saw the edges of the man’s Citizen Stamp peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.

Humans. Of course the ruling class would have the privilege of attending the concert, while the humans, even the vampire sympathizers, would have to pull duty.

The thought brought mixed feelings. If the guards that Jon needed to get past were all human soldiers, it would undoubtedly make his infiltration infinitely easier, but at the same time, it just meant that there were more vampires in close proximity to Maya, more right there to try to deal with her once she attempted to deal with them. It also meant potentially having to kill humans—a prospect that unsettled him. He was here to free them, not slay them. If there was any way possible to succeed in his mission without forcing a human citizen, even one that served the darkness, to pay the ultimate price, Jon was determined to find it.

He lowered himself back down below the edge of the wall and found a foothold that enabled him to more or less rest. He paused and listened intently to Maya’s singing. She was about halfway through the Moon Song; she had told him that this set would mimic the set from the Home show. She didn’t need to remind him what that set was—Jon had it memorized, every note, every step of every dance, every expression on her face. It had been burned into his mind forever. It had been, after all, his first encounter with divinity.

After the Moon Song comes… Jon thought and then began to do some mental math.

I’ve got about ten minutes till the finale… perfect. Jon dropped down to the foothold beneath the one he was resting on and then began to make his way to his right, horizontally across the wall to the guard who was sitting on the edge, pacing himself with the Moon Song.

“My Queen, it has begun.”

“Excellent. Rise. Thank you, Raphael,” Sofia said and smiled wickedly. Her right-hand man, Raphael, would make a fine mate when this was all over. A new moon had risen over New Puebla. Soon her husband and his brood would be dead. Sofia would feast on half the city to celebrate and then force the other half to build her an armored transport, something that could roam the reaches of the Earth while protecting her and her loyalists from the harmful rays of the daylight sun. Nothing would be able to stop them. They would bring the Hunger with them, spread over the land, creating an army and feeding on whomever they pleased. It was good to be queen.

Raphael rose from his knee and stood before her, matching her smile with a satisfied smirk of his own.

“Did my dear husband receive the tip?” she inquired.

“Most assuredly, Queen. My spies informed him of a plot against his new pet. He still thinks that he cannot be harmed, that after the execution of your cousin, and the revelations that came from it, that you wouldn’t dare to attack him. He was overheard saying as much.”

“He is truly an idiot if he thinks that after what happened, after what he did, putting food before us, I wouldn’t find out about his imprisoned god.” Sofia laughed and traced a lacquered fingernail across the bespoke suit that enshrouded Raphael’s broad chest. “He has no idea that we have all made trips downstairs; our secret rendezvous with the Hunger. We, my lovely Raphael, are no longer under the yoke of his siredom.” Her smile doubled in size as her wandering fingertip inched lower and lower, going past Raphael’s belt buckle before twirling around in concentric circles, causing him to grow.

The henchman half closed his eyes and gently thrust his pelvis forward, clearly enjoying the attention.

“I look forward to our celebration, my Queen.”

“As do I, as do I.” She flashed her eyes playfully and abruptly stopped her sexual torture of her right-hand man. “Despite his ignorance, he is still a formidable foe. I’m not sure we could best him head on.” Her smile vanished, and she looked deeply into Raphael’s eyes, wanting further reassurance that her plan would succeed.

“Fear not, Queen. The fool knows he couldn’t prevent you from wrecking his pet from where he plans to be, in his VIP booth. I have it on good authority that he is packing his ray-gun.”

“Perrrrfect,” Sofia purred and leaned forward to embrace Raphael in a deep kiss.

After getting her fill, Sofia broke off the kiss and spun around, facing the room filled with twenty-something loyalists, vampire men and women who had all secretly sworn their immortal lives to the Queen of New Puebla. Each one of them had, for their service, been allowed to drink from Sofia, ensuring that none of them would die if something happened to Don Luis Fernando.

“The stage is set, in more ways than one.” Sofia laughed, prompting her private militia to do likewise. She beheld her grand plan: the two dozen loyal soldiers all held in front of them large, rectangular riot-control tower shields. At the moment, each shield was covered by dark burlap bags. Bags that could be flung off quickly and easily. Behind those bags was the real coup de grace, for each shield was in actuality a mirror.

I will provoke him to the point where he will try to kill me with his fancy little pistol, and then I will get the last laugh!

On the stage, Maya performed, and Maya shaped. The shaping of Strange could be compared to the weaving of a tapestry.

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