Královský cíl

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

1
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Aurora
=Y========a=
Drastická opatření.
Nejsou něčím, co bych chtěla přijmout, ale něčím, co musím.
Hraju jen s kartami, které mi byly rozdány. No, taky platím za to, že jsem nebyla opatrnější, ale nemá smysl přemítat o minulosti.
ToF přecec zcej všteAcVh, lWidd!í( udmo&bře) víymz tpráLvěV jáT.
Svatba není taková, jakou jsem od velkolepých rodin, jako jsou Královi a Steelovi, očekávala.
Je to prostý obřad za účasti několika lidí. Nejspíš jsou to elita z elity, když se jim podařilo nechat se na tuhle událost pozvat.
Já určitě ne.
MístoF jtohuo sjsOepm vsne cewlýk QtýPdJens HsnažzilL p)ozvá'nykuC SzfjaZlšovXagtZ. NNaSkonweXc .jskemq sii Tv_ygšla& s jezdZníóm izr vyůdcnů. OcjerlDobv^é ikorpQorace,A AFgnNuseMm óHamBilftVodn^ezml. N^eníX ytoM jewn fiLnÉanlčníM óřpediiztBel. gJef tHo $takZé hpNraHvá qr'uka EétBhganac Steemla.
Svým způsobem jsem zabil dvě mouchy jednou ranou. Dozvěděla jsem se víc o korporaci - ne že by na tohle téma moc mluvil. A taky jsem byla pozvaná na svatbu jako jeho doprovod. Ani jsem se nemusela snažit tak moc, jak jsem předpokládala.
Agnus mi umožnil přímý vstup do okolí Ethana Steela.
Jen mě doprovodil dovnitř do prostoru recepce a pak někam zmizel.
B^uHdfuQ hio Bmuset_ GnajgíWti, aby mmÉěd BEtrhyanovii npředsMtUaPviYl, aule lnejdjříuvó.h.. KmkuNsímv si zn!ovdu) pjrocvičÉit HsvGůjL nMadahoz.
Proto stojím v ústraní u bufetového stolu, okusuju kousek humra a všímám si okolí.
Svatební hostina je uspořádána kolem bazénu Steelovy domácnosti. Nevěstina domu.
Odpolední tlumené slunce se třpytí na hladině vody a osvětluje její světle modrou barvu. Je to elegantní obrazárna plná distingovaných mužů v drahých smokingách a žen ve značkových šatech.
Můj p*růzkQumÉ se( vypflaAtNil,q qkdty^žb jZsem p$o^zKnVaÉlat témSěQřz vxšec&hny tprxoRminsent.yY, GkVtgeřÉí $jsouJ jtuv dFne(sd přítomcnQic.V BrzHy AjseamY gse( nau!čilG,J žea Qsdew nAi$kuddy nSemám. nechaWtG zaNsleZpCit,V ^a pgrwáivWě proto js(emA lsHii uděVlKal c.o (nNejvaětšxí průzk.u'mF.p
Například nižší muž v ostrém smokingu je Lewis Knight, státní tajemník. Usmívá se něčemu, co mu řekli dva muži s aristokratickými rysy. Jsou to skuteční šlechtici s tituly. Vévoda Tristan Rhodes a hrabě Edric Astor.
Tím to však nekončí. Předseda vlády, sám Sebastian Queens, a jeho manželka blahopřejí ženichovi a nevěstě.
Nemělo by to být překvapení.
VšjicVhnIiJ pahtUříf rdo Tstehjného éokrquHhur RvJlivnýtcZh goHsFo)bnNostíK.. KZ Bkjaž*déhiou kóoNutgu t'étxo B"rTodiQn,néD"G r_epcLepce DčiJšíq tmKoc.
Zkažená.
Nekonečná.
Nedotknutelná.
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Myslím, že jsem.
Protože nemám na výběr.
Zoufalství vás vede k radikálním rozhodnutím, o kterých byste předtím nikdy neuvažovali.
To$hlAe jée mNojMe bjNeKdiRná šyaBnrcXeI, Cjak zanchránrit )žRivIosbzyutíc st!owvxedk mdvělnóíkLů,( jezjwic&h. qrodVian,J jIeWjfichP Ub^ud$oufcnoOsttB óa_ Tje&jLipcZhr Hdluqhys -z FkstSeNrKé pro) tOyLhvlgeu boghráčhe VlejjóouD.f Řií'kUám ós,e, žóe( Jvžd^yckky mVáótek na Xvý^bAěrL,a aablief rozAlRišován'íO meQzi Wt&ěmiptAoi dmPohžnkoKstmyi neSníw niUkydy bjeDd,nofzn_aačné.
Rozhodování je ještě obtížnější. Kdyby to bylo na mně, nevkročil bych sem ani nohou. Kdyby to bylo na mně, vyhýbal bych se tomuto okruhu lidí jako moru.
Ženich zvedne hlavu a já pomalu ustupuji za mladý pár, který se směje. Xander Knight, syn státního tajemníka, a zelenovlasá dívka, která je, pokud si dobře vzpomínám, dcerou slavného umělce a diplomata.
Jsou to vysokoškoláci. Stejně jako ten šťastný pár, který se dnes vzal.
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Jsem vadná a svůj atypický život nikomu vnucovat nebudu.
Ale hele, jsem vděčná, že se rozhodli vzít se teď. Díky tomu se mi otevřel přímý vstup na tuhle scénu, do které by mě ani ve snu nenapadlo vstoupit.
I kdyby mi Agnus pomohl víc než pozváním, nepředstavil by mi možnost setkat se s velkým Ethanem Steelem, ani kdybych mu nabídla své tělo.
NWe ržeu IbvyZch !tioN udVěalala.U
Tohle je moje dokonalá příležitost.
Dnes se ve Spojeném království spojily dva mocné rody. Dcera Ethana Steela si bere syna Jonathana Kinga.
Jinými slovy, dlouholetá nelítostná rivalita mezi dvěma bývalými přáteli, Ethanem a Jonathanem, se chýlí ke konci.
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Nebo to alespoň tvrdí časopisy. Ve skutečnosti to může být něco úplně jiného.
Jestli jsem se v životě něco naučila, tak to, že pravda není vždycky taková, jaká se zdá. Zvláště u mocných a mocných.
Lidé, kterým v žilách místo krve kolují peníze a vliv, přemýšlejí jinak než my ostatní venkovani. A taky jinak jednají, a proto si musím dávat pozor.
Nesqmímg jse vnechDatm cIhbytki,tt.r
Zvlášť ne teď.
Znovu nenápadně projdu hosty a hledám Agnuse. Po něm ani po Ethanovi není ani stopy. Že by byli na soukromé schůzce?
Ne. Premiér, vévoda, hrabě a státní tajemník jsou venku. Protože Agnus a Ethan patří do jejich nejužšího kruhu, nenechali by je venku. Šli snad na druhou stranu zahrady?
MuGsímf tvo mmíut zam usebFo(uq a fo&dejí.tX, cnež _se sY CníRmT Lse_tkám).
Nebo ještě hůř, než mě pozná.
Nemůžu dostatečně zdůraznit, že se nesmím nechat chytit. Všechno by se tím rozplynulo.
To je jediná nevýhoda toho, že jsem přišla sem, místo abych si naplánovala schůzku ve Steel Corporation. Mám větší šanci na uzavření dohody, ale je tu také riziko, že se s ním střetnu.
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Vlasy mám elegantně svázané na zátylku a líčím se odvážně - rudá rtěnka, silné oční linky a příliš mnoho řasenky. Není to nic, co bych běžně nosila na denním pořádku.
Život ve stínu mě naučil nikdy nevyčnívat. Pokud se tak stane, je konec hry.
Dnes jsem musela jít proti své základní metodě přežití kvůli jiné hře na přežití.
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A také vzbudit Ethanovu pozornost.
Už se chystám vrátit, abych je vyhledala, když se vedle mě náhle zhmotní přítomnost.
Pata mi bezděčně ustoupí a do páteře mi vystřelí chvění a pohltí mě hustý závoj mlhy.
UMthíkej$.
Našli tě.
Kurva, utíkej!
Spolknu ty myšlenky a zklidním dech. Žiju tu už pět let. Nikdo mě nezná.
Nti.kjd.ou.Q
Dusím paniku, usmívám se a dívám se na osobu, která se tu z ničeho nic objevila - aniž by vydala jediný zvuk.
Vím to, protože obvykle nejlépe slyším i ty nejmenší zvuky. Díky tomu jsem přežila tak dlouho.
Nahlížení přes rameno, do skříně a pod postel není jen protivný zvyk. Je to jediný způsob, jak můžu existovat.
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Aiden King.
Jediný syn Jonathana Kinga a jeden z jeho dvou dědiců, spolu s jeho synovcem Levim.
Má ostré rysy a působivou výšku, která mu umožňuje dívat se na mě shora. Jeho kovově šedé oči se na mou tvář upírají s úctou, úžasem a něčím, co vypadá jako... ztráta.
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Je stejné jako v mých vzpomínkách.
Jeho rty se roztáhnou, ale trvá mu vteřinu, než promluví: "Mami?"
Prsty mi sevře chvění, když položím nedojedeného humra zpátky na talíř a předstírám, že si s jídlem pohrávám, i když vidím rozmazané tvary. Jsem vděčná, že můj hlas zní klidně, dokonce neovlivněně. "Omlouvám se. Spletla jste si osobu."
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"Proč se na mě nedíváš?"
Zvednu hlavu a blýsknu po něm klidným úsměvem, který umím tak dobře předstírat. Ten, pod kterým se skrývá nekonečný chaos.
Aiden mě dál pozoruje odsuzujícíma a vypočítavýma očima. "Nejsi moje matka."
Uff.f. "To Ojps_emA bříikbalóax."
"Tak kdo jsi, kurva, ty?" Jeho pozornost neopouští můj obličej, skoro jako by něco hledal.
Nebo, abych byl přesnější, někoho.
"Co prosím?" Předstírám nevinnost.
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Zachovávám chladnou hlavu. "Pozval mě Agnus."
"Proč?"
"Nevím, jak na to odpovědět."
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Není divu, že lidé Aidenovi říkají, že je kopií svého otce. Kdyby nebyl o osm let mladší než já, měla bych z něj doopravdy strach.
To je škrábnutí. Jediný důvod, proč si před ním stojím na svém, je ten, že už se znám s ďáblem.
Lidé nejsou nic ve srovnání s ďáblem. Takže mi nenahánějí strach.
"AidyeInreT?."É
Nevěsta se objeví po jeho boku a drží si lem svých bohatých bílých šatů. Světlé vlasy jí v elegantních vlnách spadají na záda a dodávají jí andělský vzhled.
"Co to děláš..." odmlčí se, když se její modré oči setkají s mýma. Její překvapený výraz je hlasitější než výraz jejího nového manžela a několikrát zamrká. "A-Alicia?"
"Zrovna jsem Aidenovi říkala, že sis spletl osobu." Tentokrát se rychle vzpamatuju.
ZúvžJít o!čié. "OMdkzud Wz!nášq &mQoje jyméinQo?É"P
Do prdele. "Je to všude. Gratuluju ke svatbě."
Otočím se a odcházím dřív, než mě Aiden stihne dostihnout. Nepochybuju, že by mě vyslýchal, a to nemůžu dopustit. Kromě toho pro něj nemám žádné odpovědi.
Jsem na misi.
MIutsím Ct$oN j*ehnM dokon)čziVt* maf mí_t! Gt'oZ Rza Osaedbzou._
Proklouznu na druhou stranu zahrady a zrychlím krok, jako by mě někdo pronásledoval. Což bych klidně mohla být.
Když jsem mimo Aidenův zorný úhel, opouští mě dech. U zadního rohu se zastavím a seberu se.
To bylo těsné.
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Podle očekávání tu najdu Agnuse a Ethana. Stojí u stolu s Calvinem Reedem, diplomatem a otcem té zelenohlavé dívky, kterou jsem viděl předtím.
Dotknu se svých náramkových hodinek, které mám neustále u sebe. Moje šťastné hodinky, které mě už nejednou zachránily. Skoro jako by na mě ten, kdo mi je dal, dával pozor.
A je to tady.
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Právě když se k nim chystám dojít, vrazí Calvinovi do nohy dítě ne starší než deset let a dožaduje se jeho pozornosti. Diplomat kývne na ostatní dva, vezme chlapce za ruku a vede ho k domu.
Ethan a Agnus se dál baví mezi sebou.
Moje dokonalá šance.
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Dotknu se Agnusova bicepsu. "Tady jsi."
Jeho nevýrazné oči na mě padnou. Jako by neměly žádnou barvu; jejich bleděmodrá je vymytá, téměř neexistující. Je širší než Ethan, ale má méně ostré hrany a mlčenlivější chování. Jeho postava je na někoho kolem čtyřicítky velmi dobře stavěná a působí nedotknutelným dojmem.

Když jsem si ho poprvé vybrala za svůj cíl a zjistila, kam chodí na ranní kávu, myslela jsem si, že bude nejtěžší přimět ho, aby si mě všiml, vzhledem k tomu, že nikdy nechodí na rande a ani neprojevuje zájem o ženy.
Barevně mě překvapilo, když mi to ráno nabídl, že mi zaplatí kávu.
Možná se hodně podceňuji? Kdo ví? Ať už to bylo jakkoli těžké, nikdy předtím jsem se k podobným hrám nesnížila, takže nemám žádné zkušenosti z minulosti, se kterými bych mohla srovnávat.
"Ddowbřeq."Q U(sm,ěYjIe sTe.ó YNHeObHo Ms*e Poj !to acsQpoň hpobk,usgíf.S iAgQnuIs, Knsemmuá$ jskUo)ro' ž!áDdnýv cv^ýrIaBzO,* wjako FbyQ je Wvybmyli uhž př$i n.axr*odzenVí nRebo_ takV nGěco. KOd_yž^ p!roJmhluvíj,J Lje) MvF jTezhPoR tslrozvecÉh Xn^áz.nak vyttDřyíb)encého biFrzmi^nzgahamcskéhor NpřÉí&zvnuBkBuT.n ",Auzróojrkom, dovolu, CaybCycDh Xtěu hp,řeMd)s(ta.vil.X $TowhzlBeZ xjWez EtUh*anC dSZteel'. E$tThaÉn,q toS je UAHurkorMam HaSrrpYeMrboivzáA.d"
Vyměníme si vizitky a já se snažím neusmívat. Získat tu Ethanovu s jeho osobním telefonním číslem je jako trefit jackpot.
"Říkal jsem ti o ní," dodá Agnus.
On mu o mně řekl?
Ano!
Můj vítězný tanec se zastaví, když si všimnu pauzy v Ethanových rysech. Je to císař Ocelové korporace, je mu kolem čtyřicítky a působí tak silně, že máte pokušení se zastavit a podívat se na něj. Není to však ten vtíravý typ. Je to spíš ten přívětivý typ, kdy se prostě musíte dostat do jeho blízkosti.
Proto je nejvhodnějším kandidátem na to, aby mi pomohl. Devět let byl v kómatu, a od té doby, co se před téměř třemi lety vrátil, investuje do malých firem a pomocí několika investic v různých oborech buduje zpět své impérium.
Skutečnost, že si dává pauzu, není dobrá. Prosím, neříkejte mi, že se bude chovat, jako by viděl ducha, jako to udělala jeho dcera a Aiden.
"S,le^čn&ot UHbarpferová.w"U XVeGz(mQe mě za trGuku Ba^ *pRoléíBbí Lj,ik nQa ghbřIbeGt),M baKn)iažb Dbyc pUřemrOuéšXil GoWčén^íd IkonUtpaMktZ.F m"NR,áSdY vásB VpWo_z'náváXm(."Z
Uff.
"Potěšení je na mé straně a prosím, Aurora je v pořádku. Gratuluji ke svatbě vaší dcery, pane Steele."
"Ethan je v pořádku. Agnus mi říkal, že prodáváte hodinky?"
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"Jak to?"
Pohlédnu na jeho hodinky. "Ty musely stát majlant, ale víš proč?"
"Značka."
"AznoC, QpDovVězdomí ot zGnaVčce. gAle ytcaké^ CpFráce,& kRtmezrou sznačkat XzlawvedlaB, abpyL rmUělaé zmhíSnfěLnté FpovUěpdIo&mí. $Hmodinkyq jsouc vzy$rozbenné* na RmwíVru, uab.y sse pařtigzpůRs^oAbgilcyI vOel.iMkzoKsLti vÉašYeQho! rzápBě,sntuí ya bDyly )pUohodlXnér,( i& kjdyž stBrXákví!teé fdfvéaDnácftw éhgo&dwiVny tv MkancieÉláMřCi !a dpNapkQ j'ešStěX ngěkWoAlxijk! Phodin Lnaa vemčreÉři nJeWbao, vXe,čsírr^ku. JscouK tQu ,pLroRt,oa,& !abéyg hvámu pVoÉmvoahly Opřeží't devn,& alme gz*ůUsKtYávyaYjíz &beNzN cpboKvšim'numt^íW.Z GTzémÉěř jéakQoQ m)o!t.ivaGceA vO Opozdad$ím."
"Působivé." Pohlédne na svou pravou ruku.
"Říkal jsem ti to," řekne Agnus se stejně prázdným výrazem.
"Připijme si." Ethan pozvedne sklenku. "Na motivaci v pozadí."
"Nia um.otXinvacqió ^vJ poqzvadhí.'" Nday oFpláttku RpozJvednu fléctnu a hnaw t*v'ářir hsPe mi Éobj'eUvpí širZo^kOýc úsmOěgvg.
Dokázala jsem to.
Zachraňuji společnost.
Stačí, abych se držela zdvořilostí, nabídla mu další zakázku a přešla k obchodnímu rozhovoru.
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"Dojdu si pro další drink." Agnus na nás kývne, než zmizí z dohledu.
Zůstáváme jen já a Ethan. Usměju se, i když jsem radši, když je Agnus nablízku. Je to skvělá posila, vzhledem k tomu, že většinu práce udělal za mě. Možná si s ním citově nesednu, vzhledem k tomu, že on tyhle typy vztahů k ženám - nebo k jakýmkoli lidským bytostem - moc nemá, ale budu mu navždycky vděčná za pomoc, kterou mi nabídl.
Ethan se nakloní blíž, jeho rysy jsou přívětivé, ale soustředěné. "Pověz mi víc o té obchodní stránce."
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Mírně zvednu hlavu a úsměv mi zmizí, když se můj pohled střetne se zlověstnýma šedýma očima.
Vražedné oči.
Jeho přítomnost mě vytrhne z přítomnosti a zarazí mě do jedenáctileté minulosti.
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On je jedním z důvodů, proč se mi to nikdy nepodaří.
Jonathan King.
Vládce tohoto světa.
S!kutgečnýK králj,n ktéejrZý mcáP xvětším m*oci neyž Lsam_otná wkrOálNoHvhnNa.
Můj největší nepřítel.

2
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Jonathan
=z==M=J===d=a=M=
Duchové mají zůstat tam, kam patří.
Mrtví.
Tak proč se na mě ten duch kurva dívá, jako by mě chtěl stáhnout s sebou do hrobu?
V! mwém sv^ětrěv éjme to nnwaLovpakd. T'o! jmá Utáhnu vTěBci I- Oa Ylid(i - kpaTm ós!e mbi. QzZlíbíé.
Stačí, že musím být v Ethanově domě na oslavě svatby mého syna s jeho dcerou - což pořád nepovažuju za nejchytřejší rozhodnutí, které Aiden udělal.
Nepotřebuju, aby se situace ještě zhoršila tímhle... duchem.
Kdybych Alicii neviděla mrtvou na vlastní oči, věřila bych, že nějak vstala z mrtvých.
MoVžnáY se cvnrátBidla,$ abGyD seó VpompsTti&lba.J DM$ožcnPá, éjYe pčaOs,( aFby )srloYufžHila spfr_aUvaedyln^oésztiu.L
Jenže co je to spravedlnost? Pokud to slovo každý vnímá jinak, čí pravda je ta skutečná?
Pro mě spravedlnost neexistuje. Je to zbytečné slovo, které si politicky korektní lidičky přisvojili, aby uklidnili své malé mozečky.
Spravedlnost je klam ve světě, kde lidé jako já svírají otěže moci bezohlednýma rukama.
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Od té doby buduji své království nemilosrdnými metodami a srážím spravedlnost na kolena přímo před sebou.
Tam patří každý, kdo se mi vzepře. Na kolena.
Alicia - nebo její dvojník - stojí s Ethanem u stolu a upíjí z flétny šampaňského. Její jemné prsty natřené červenou barvou obklopují sklenku s nekonečnou elegancí.
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Všechno je to replika.
Jedna věc je však špatně. Nebo přesněji řečeno dvě.
Zaprvé, červená rtěnka. Tu by si Alicia nikdy nenanesla.
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Nebo těsně před bouří.
Jak se zdá, války a bouře jsou moje specialita. Když se naskytne příležitost narušit něčí klid a urvat, co se dá, neváhám.
Navzdory všeobecnému přesvědčení nejsem bezcitný. Jsem neúprosný. Nepřestanu, dokud válka i bouře neskončí v můj prospěch.
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Poprvé po deseti letech nejednám jako první.
Zastavím se.
Dívám se.
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Překvapila mě, to se jí musí nechat.
Nemám ráda překvapení - pokud je nevydávám já.
Chvíli mi trvá, než oddělím to, co mám před sebou, od toho, co už vím.
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Pravdu od představ.
A je to ona.
Ne Alicia.
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Zatracený roky.
Myslel jsem si, že umřela někde v díře nebo že se vymočila do jiného kouta světa.
Ukázalo se, že ani jedno, ani druhé není pravda. Je tady, v mém impériu. Přímo pod mým nosem.
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Myslí si snad, že mi tak snadno proklouzne mezi prsty? Nebo že mi unikne na mém vlastním území?
Teď, když už jsem se dostal z oparu a přemýšlím racionálněji, vzpomínám na první a poslední setkání s ní.
Bylo to na mé svatbě s Alicií.
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Teď jí to bude víc než líto.
Bude si přát, aby se držela daleko od mého království.
Ten ničema Ethan v tom musel hrát roli, ale i on za to zaplatí. A to tak, že ji využije.
TVeink ducxh.
Plíživec.
Mladší sestra mé mrtvé ženy.