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likeness of Inanna’s daughter, but no, I save my hatred for Inanna. She feared your inherited power from Apophis so much that she had you stripped of your immortal spirit.” His mother’s voice dripped hatred, sizzling like acid.
    He cupped the statue’s breast, knowing that the crude gesture would irritate his mother. He decided to bring up another sore subject. “I think it’s time for me to get married.”
    “No.” Vehemence sliced through her voice.
    He fondled the statue again, trying to prick her jealousy. “I would like a wife like this one. Wild and ferocious.” Some of his nighttime fantasies played across the screen of his mind.
    The explosion of her temper brought a wide smile to his lips. The spotlight over the statue burst, as well as a glass case nearby containing ancient jewelry. She held her right palm up, and a small flame appeared. She looked ready to throw it at the statue. “Men are dirty, rutting pigs!” She seemed to catch on to his ruse. “I did not raise you to act like a horny teenager.”
    “I want a son, Mother.”
    “Speaking of sons, have you found the old man’s grandson?”
    “Not yet.”
    “We have no answer for why the old man is in this coma. Even I cannot seem to get inside his mind. I need to know what he knows. What his grandson knows.”

    * * *

    Leave the room, damn it! Another painful cramp pierced through his back muscles, but Darius focused on his breathing until the pain subsided. His body was obviously still tired of being in cramped spaces. Not too mention the dust that hadn’t been swept up from behind this antique in years. He pinched his nose to avoid a sneeze that threatened to blow his cover.
    He’d trained his body to lie motionless for hours, but watching Therion from this close proximity knotted his gut. Memories engulfed Darius without mercy. He was eight years old again, protecting his little hideaway in the basement of an abandoned wharf building. Therion and his gang of prep school jerks had watched Darius pick pockets for money and watches. Greedily, they’d come for his stash. They beat him up, threw him into the harbor, and took off with the whole box.  
    Even then, he hadn’t cared about the cash or the watches. They didn’t mean anything to him. Only one item had special meaning for him. A single bead hung on the end of a thin gold chain around his neck. Hardly precious, it was a small oblong blue bead made of lapis lazuli. It was the only thing his mother had ever given him besides life itself. It was the only thing that reminded Darius of the days before his mother turned to drugs.
    For five years, Therion and his crew haunted Darius, but eventually the scumbag had figured out how much that damned necklace had meant to him. The day before Therion left for the military academy, he’d cornered Darius in an alley, beat him, and left him for dead. Therion had ripped the necklace from him, claiming it as his war prize.
    The beating Darius endured should have killed him, but the only scar that remained was the one in his heart for losing his only prized possession. If you don’t own something, it can’t be taken away from you.
    Finally, mother and son moved away toward the staircase. He hoped they were going up to the residence and not down to the basement. Therion was groping the statue one last time before following his mother.
    Darius glared at Therion’s back, wishing to hell he could run over there and rip the man’s throat out. He knew he could physically take him on now. But the only move he made was to scratch his chest again.
    Alone now, Darius stood up and approached the staircase, watching the two retreat to the upper level. He couldn’t stand the itch any longer and pulled the medallion out from under his shirt. He figured he was having a bad reaction to whatever metals were in it.
    He started to descend the staircase, but stopped. He couldn’t say why. He just felt a pull to remain on the gallery level. He backed up, and