Phoenix Imagining (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 1) Read online

  “There is nothing that I need from you, young man. However, your tiredness and exhaustion are apparent. If the press of your duties once again requires you to put in an overnight effort, I might be able to provide you with something that will alleviate at least part of that strain.”

  Mark didn’t know what to make of this speech. Part of him thought that there was no way anything can be done to help him, while another portion of his mind yelled at him to take whatever help he could get. Staring numbly at the calmly waiting man, Mark finally stumbled into speech, “Thank you, sir. I would appreciate whatever help I can get.”

  It should’ve looked ridiculous when the much shorter man placed a comforting hand on Mark’s back, but the sheer act of someone caring about him and trying to help him was a balm for the weary man’s soul. Muranu escorted Mark back into his room, and the door closed.

  <<<>>>

  The day did not start out well for Dell Howard. Once again breakfast was on time, hot and perfect. His already unsettled temper was being exacerbated by the unacceptable tendency of his world not to behave in the manner that he expected. Finishing the well-cooked meal but tasting nothing but ashes on his tongue through his frustrated anger, Dell heard his assistant enter the suite.

  “You had better have all of the information that I requested last night. I don’t care if you think it’s not important to have it now, I’m the boss, and you need to do what I say.”

  “Yes, sir. Here’s all the information that you requested. Additionally, in pulling that information out, I found that there were certain other aspects that you probably wanted to consider when selecting your strategies. That information is in the supplementary file folder labeled as such.”

  Dell’s head whipped up and his gaze locked onto Mark’s face. Instead of an exhausted, frightened man, the administrative assistant looked both thoroughly rested and very calm. Incredibly, when Dell grabbed the tablet out of Mark’s hands and looked through the information himself, he saw that the job was thoroughly done and did include supplementary information that could possibly be useful. About to demand how the man had managed to complete the job he had given him, Dell realized that in admitting that the job was too large to perform, he would be getting on the wrong side of his employment agreement with Mark.

  Stymied from attacking the one person he was confident he could bully, Dell exploded into a rash of rapid orders. Outlining more information that Mark needed to get for him as soon as possible was one portion of it. He also itemized a whole series of changes in the room that was to be implemented by the time he got back from his meeting. His assistant’s calm acceptance of all of the requests and demands left Dell feeling unsettled. He felt like he was in a prize ring and jabbing at the other fighter looking for weaknesses. This was not the situation that he normally orchestrated.

  After the list of information that he had demanded from Mark, Dell decided not to take him to the meeting. Instead, he left him to complete another impossible amount of work in a few hours and stormed off through the hotel and into the rented limousine to be taken to his meeting. At least, he would be able to take out some of his fury on the board of this company.

  Full of his own importance, Dell Howard marched into the boardroom of the small trading firm that he had decided to acquire. Sitting down at the head of the table, he pushed the belongings and papers of the person had been sitting there to the side. The short ride to the company’s offices had been spent by rehashing the situation with the hotels. His frustration and anger had built to the point where it needed an outlet. And hostile takeovers were the perfect place for him to focus that fury.

  Looking around the room at the board members, he could see the combination of outrage and anger on their faces. Internally, he preened with satisfaction. He could make them angry, and he then could attack and destroy them. Eventually, they would make a misstep, and he would win. He had done this hundreds of times. It was a predictable process, and he was very good at controlling it.

  After all, this was simply a small trading firm. It had been family-run for many years and was in need of expansion. It was ripe for a takeover, and he was just the person to do that. It didn’t matter that he knew nothing about trading. He knew about money, and he knew about political and financial battles. He was here to win, and if he left dead bodies behind he would be just as happy.

  The first indication that he was going have a problem, however, came when an elderly man was helped into the room. Leaning on the arm of what appeared to be a close relative, the old man walked up to Dell and looked down at him. Dell returned the stare and lifted an inquiring eyebrow. The old man didn’t say a word. He stood there calmly and waited.

  Who does this old one think he is? If he thinks he has any chance of moving me out of this chair, he’s wrong. And if they throw me out of the chair, I can have them arrested for assault.

  It was a waiting game. The old man simply stood there waiting. Surely, he was going to have to say something soon.

  The pressure of the silence pushed harder and harder on Dell’s resolve. He didn’t dare take his eyes away from the old man because breaking the stare was as good as losing. He tried to put all of his fury and arrogance into his eyes and drilled it into the old man. It simply dissipated into the calm gaze of a century of experience.

  The tension inside of Dell increased. The silence seemed to press on him from everywhere. The pressure coupled with his frustration and anger gathered into a cluster of roiling emotions and something that he had not felt for many years. Fear. A thin tendril of uncertainty and fear wormed its way up inside of Dell.

  No! This couldn’t be happening. Unable to stand the pressure of the old man’s gaze, Dell jumped to his feet, grabbed his papers, and stalked out of the room. Throwing a vicious glance at the receptionist who staring open-mouthed at him, Dell stopped in front of her long enough to rip the proposed contract up and throw it in her face.

  He had to get out of the building! Moving quickly, Dell was out of the building and into the open air less than five minutes later. He was shaking in fury and frustration. Anger was an old friend to him. Frustration was not. Dell had no plan for what to do next. His strategy of taking over the trading company as a foothold on this world was not going to work now. There was no way that he could go back into that boardroom and effectively negotiate the way he wanted to.

  It was highly probable that the tale of his defeat would be making the rounds of the trading companies shortly. Gnashing his teeth, his fury ratcheted up another degree. This was unsupportable, unacceptable. Heads were going to roll, and he would have his revenge.

  Chapter 5 – A Tactical Retreat

  Slamming through the entry of the Babylonia, Dell was moving at just short of a run. Ignoring inquiries from the staff, he crashed into the elevator and jabbed the panel to close the doors immediately. His exit and then entry into his suite were just as precipitous. The businessman surprised his assistant hard at work getting the information that had been requested. Dell hoped that he might catch the man in a moment of idle repose and would be justified in firing him. The lack of opportunity to vent his spleen raised Dell’s fury up even higher. He could feel his skin alternating between hot and cold, while waves of red crossed his vision. This was not supposed to be happening to him!

  “We are leaving! You have ten minutes to grab all of your pitiful belongings and get my stuff packed up and meet me downstairs. We are leaving! We are going back to Bredal. Get your stuff and let’s get going.”

  “But sir,…”

  “Do as you’re told, you spineless idiot! If you’re not hard of hearing, get moving. Now!!”

  Dell spun around the room like a destructive tornado. Grabbing items that he wished to take with him and jamming them helter-skelter into his bag, the enraged man was quickly packed. Somehow his mood was only deepened when he noticed that the new items he had requested were already in the room. The efficiency of the hotel and its flawless execution ratcheted up his anger again.


  Less than five minutes later, Dell and Mark were headed for their transport out of the system.

  <<<>>>

  It was impossible for Dell to settle down during transit. The entire 18 hours were spent planning a variety of strategies for revenge on those that had resisted him. The fact that there were witnesses to his frustration and loss made it even worse. Expounding in detail to Mark, Dell applied his considerable intellect to methods of ruining the trading firm. He would show them, he told Mark, smiling in a twisted sort of glee as he detailed all the things he was going to do to reduce them to nothing.

  Mark was horrified. Only half the things that Dell was talking about were even slightly legal. It didn’t seem to matter to the enraged magnate how much money he was going to have to spend. He ranted and raved about how he was going to break the old man, and talked about how he would die in poverty. He even talked about taking a contract out on the board members so they can never talk about his failure.

  The plans for the hotels were even worse. Initially, Dell had ordered his assistant to send a list of requests to the Babylonia manager. These requests demanded specialized and customized types of modifications to the room and a supply of unusual wines for dinner. This was the sort of high-handed behavior that Dell had always shown, so Mark did not think anything of it. He obediently sent off the message hoping that it would calm his irate boss down to some degree.

  Coming back into the room, Mark stopped in shock to hear Dell talking to himself. “… and if the bitch survives, she will be so broken up nobody will listen to her anyway. I’m sure that a series of break-ins won’t do the hotel’s reputation any good. By the time I’m done, though they will almost have to pay me to take it.”

  The man’s voice lowered into a gravelly tone that sounded like it came from the depths of hell, “I could probably get a mage or two to attack with fire, but I don’t want to damage the structure too much. Then when I buy it, they can all watch as it is razed and the ground salted.”

  Steeling himself, Mark came into the room saying, “I sent all the requests, sir. What else would you let me to do?”

  There was no immediate answer from Dell, and when Mark looked over at him, he saw that the man’s face was transformed into a mask of glee and that he was rubbing his hand in anticipation of the picture that he saw in his own mind. The picture painted with the pain of others and orchestrated for the sadistic pleasure of the man Mark worked for.

  <<<>>>

  Landfall on Bredal was fairly smooth, other than minor irritations with slow customs clearance. The urgency behind Dell’s drive to find fault got them to the Mesopotamia in minimal time. Ignored by his boss, Mark managed to get their belongings out of the vehicle and pay the driver. He hurried to catch up to Dell, hoping to divert him. It was too late. Dell had all but dragged the manager into the elevator on the way to the room.

  Mark could hear the magnate’s rant as he approached the two men. “I’ve been deeply disappointed in your level of service and professionalism. You can make absolutely sure that I’m going to complain extensively about this. In fact, if it gets any worse I’m going to set up a social media campaign to make sure everyone knows what a horrible experience I had.”

  The calm voice of the manager interjected, “As you know, Master Howard, the contract specifically prevents you from attempting to tarnish the hotel’s reputation unless you can prove that we have failed in our agreement.”

  “Your contract specifically says that you will maintain the rooms in perfect synchronization so that everything that I have requested in one place is put in the other. Is that not true?”

  “Yes, sir, it is.”

  “Then how do you explain this…”

  Dell flung the double doors open into the suite. Striding into the room, he turned and pointed at the small table next to one of the couches. “I specifically asked for a basket of Jarun fruit to be available at all times and to have at least seven items for my choices.”

  “I believe, sir, that is exactly what is sitting there. In fact, there are nine different types of fruit from the Jarun system in the basket at this point.”

  “What!?!” Dell spun in place and stared in shock at the table next to the couch. A basket that hadn’t been in the other room when they had left but had been requested while they were in transit sat sedately next to the couch. Rushing over to inspect it, the man reached out a trembling hand to make sure that the basket was real. Each of the hard-to-obtain fruits sat in isolated comfort inside the basket. They were real.

  “No! No, no, no, no, no! This is impossible! You can’t have done this. There has to be a trick, and I don’t believe you.”

  Rushing around the suite, Dell checked for each of the many items he had demanded during the trip from Araxis. As he found each of them exactly where he had requested, his frustration and fury grew. Hands trembling and blood pounding in his temples, the man was stripped of his anticipated victory.

  “Was there anything else, sir?”

  The calmness of the manager's voice refocused Dell and gave him a small amount of control back again. Unable to keep all of his fury off his face, however, the expression present when he addressed Dexter was just short of an outright snarl. He shouted, “No! Get your insolent ass out of my suite!”

  As serenely as he did everything else, Dexter, manager of the hotel Mesopotamia, walked out of the room. The door shut quietly behind him leaving two men in a room full of rage.

  The intensity of the room and sense of oppression was so strong that Mark was afraid to say anything or even move. He could tell the Dell was like a lit fuse, ready to go off at any moment and totally unpredictable. The smaller man stood frozen, waiting for something to break the deadlock.

  When a discrete tap on the door sounded, both Dell and Mark jumped. Before Mark could answer the door, Dell charged past him, hitting the assistant’s shoulder with his greater bulk and sending the smaller man careening into the side of the chair. The magnate wrenched the door open, his mouth opened to shout in a fury. But that act was forestalled by the on-time delivery of the supper cart.

  Feeling like he had wandered onto the set of some sort of absurdist drama, Mark clutched his bruised shoulder and stared as the waiter, seemingly oblivious to the danger, calmly proceeded to serve the normal exquisite dinner.

  It only took the man a few moments to lay out the single plate and the array of dishes, open the wine and pour a small amount into a glass. Waiting for tasting he stepped back from the table and addressed Dell, “Would you care to taste the wine, sir?” he asked.

  In a voice that could have issued from a Duke of Hell, the overstressed businessman snarled, “No! Get the hell out of here!”

  The closing of the door was almost silent, leaving only the panting breath of Dell Howard as the appreciable sound in the room. He looked far different than the arrogant but controlled man who had entered this hotel just a few days ago. With hair that was mussed and sticking up in strange peaks, and the reddened face and sweaty brow of someone who had lost control, his appearance was demented.

  Breathing heavily, he stared at the dinner. The perfection of the layout and the lack of anything to complain about was just the last straw. With a mighty shout, he grabbed the tablecloth, turned over the table, flinging food, wine glasses, and flatware all over the room. Mark flinched in response.

  That was a grave mistake. The involuntary movement drew Dell’s eye and provided him with a target for his rage. Advancing on the smaller man, Dell grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifting Mark up into the air to drag him closer to the businessman’s contorted face.

  “This is all your fault! You must’ve been feeding them information. You’re supposed to be working for me, but you failed me. I will break you, destroy you. I will find anyone you care about or have loved even in the past and destroy them too. You will have nothing, you hear me? Nothing left of your life.”

  With each threat, Dell slammed the smaller man into something. Walls, furniture, mir
rors. Using his greater strength, the infuriated man used the younger one as a punching bag. Repeatedly hitting him in the face, chest, and shoulders.

  At first, Mark was so taken by surprise that he could not mount a defense. After the second blow, he was unable. Blood ran freely from his face and head, dripping down over the rest of his clothing and onto the floor. As Dell flung the other man around, the spray started to pepper the light-colored carpet like some form of mold or disease. Mark was soon reduced to semi-consciousness, unable even to protect his throat and head.

  In Dell’s fury, he didn’t care. Someone watching this interaction would’ve noticed that with every blow that was struck, with every iota of damage that Dell caused to his assistant, the magnate stood taller and looked more powerful. All that did is make his rage fire burn hotter.

  The crazed man quickly was reduced incoherent screaming. Apparently drawing on hysterical strength, he began to throw the semi-conscious man around the room. Bouncing hard mostly onto the floor, Mark landed on whatever body part happened to be pointed downward. As Dell’s rage grew, he would run over and kick the man in the head, chest, or back. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to Dell was that he could vent his rage and take revenge on those that had thwarted him, even if by proxy.

  Finally, Dell’s energy ran out. Breathing in huge gasping breaths, he looked around the room. It looked like an abattoir, blood everywhere, broken furniture, smashed mirrors. A small glimmer of sanity returned to the businessman’s eyes, and he looked at the broken chair that was in his hands. Issuing a short laugh that had no amusement, he dropped the chair down onto the bleeding body that he had been beating with the furniture. Walking with the replete stride of a predator that had fed well, he went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  After a long leisurely shower, Dell Howard came out of the bathroom feeling relaxed, pleasantly comfortable, and ready for bed. Crawling into bed, he leaned over to turn off the light. Pausing for a second, he decided instead to pick up the telephone next to the bed. Dialing zero and waiting for the operator to answer, he said, “There is a mess in my suite. Clean it up.”