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“Do you need something again?” one of the directors of Triumvirate Holdings said tiredly.
Detective Matt McKay, a very stubborn, savvy, and overly virtuous mortal caught sight of Nero, accompanied by bodyguards, just as he was getting off the elevator of his own skyscraper in downtown New York.
The tycoon wasn’t a handsome man: a tired face surrounded by a frizzy beard that faded into his hair, and a distinctly bulging belly, indicating that his master was a big drinker. His unattractive appearance was in sharp contrast to his expensive custom-made suit of unusual purple color. He wore handmade leather shoes on his feet and several gold chains around his thick neck.
McKay didn’t know who this man really was and is. He didn’t know it wasn’t even a man. Nor did he know his true name. But what McKay did know was that this was a greedy, cruel, and heartless man who covered his atrocities with exorbitant amounts of money.
When McKay began digging for Nero, he received almost no support. The people who turned out to be on McKay’s side could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Friends and coworkers laughed at him, but some asked him to drop the case with undisguised misgivings. Eventually it came to threats. McKay believed, not unreasonably, that some of these people had been bribed and some threatened. But he kept looking, even though after all this time, effort, and sacrifice, no case against Nero had ever been made.
McKay had seen Nero many times before, but those meetings hadn’t brought any success. This time, however, was different.
“You’ll have to come with me. I have a few questions for you,” the detective said.
“And what’s the interest this time?” Nero asked carelessly. “The explosion at that mall? Tristan McLean’s bankruptcy? The murder of some professor? The suspension of a prosecutor? The hacking of Ilon Musk’s accounts?” he waved his hands questioningly.
“About the brutal murder of that archaeologist girl,” McKay replied, trying to remain calm. “I have new information.”
“Some other time,” Nero said, as if McKay weren’t an officer of the law but an annoying advertising agent trying to sell him a subscription to some obscure magazine. “I have other things to do right now.”
McKay remembered that there was a long, parked gold limousine at the entrance to the building, polished so polished it was just painful to look at. It shone almost like the very real sun.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to postpone your plans,” McKay kept his tone courteous.
It was difficult. The detective hated people like this. He used to think the likes of Nero were just characters in horror stories and comic books. But the reality was worse. Nero had managed to cause evil to many people, for McKay here was a personal revenge. But Nero always got away with it. But this time…
“You miscalculated.”
Nero arched his eyebrows in surprise.
“I did? Where?”
Nero’s bodyguards tensed visibly. McKay glanced briefly at their necks, which bore a pattern of serpents. It was the mark of all of Nero’s cronies. And people with the same mark had been seen many times at the scene of numerous murders, robberies, or kidnappings. However, very often witnesses of such incidents soon recanted. Some troublemakers with the tag have been caught, but they were quickly released.
“I have an anonymous witness who saw you at the scene of the crime.”
Nero seemed disappointed.
“That’s it?”
McKay was surprised at his behavior. He’d expected Nero not to take him seriously, but to be disappointed? That instilled even more fear. Just how confident was Nero of his power?
“And the camera footage of you clearly in attendance.”
Nero appeared more pleased this time.
“So you’ll have to come with me,” the detective continued.
Nero hesitated for a moment. He scratched his double chin, looked back at his bodyguards and replied:
“No.”
“What?” McKay frowned.
“You’re giving me too much trouble,” the tycoon continued. “I’m tired. It would be easier to get rid of you.”
He waved to his bodyguards:
“Kill him.”
The detective’s first reaction was surprise. He’d been attacked more than once: by a random person on the street, by a murderer who broke into the house. Lately, the detective had had to spend the night at the police station, but even there he kept his eyes open. But as powerful and dangerous as Nero was, McKay didn’t think he’d have the guts to take him out in the middle of the day, in front of so many witnesses, including passersby on the street who could see everything through the glass doors.
His second reaction was natural. McKay had excellent reflexes and was a superb marksman. As soon as the bodyguards drew their pistols, McKay instantly grabbed his own from his armpit holster, shot the first one and jumped behind the front desk, taking cover from the fire of the second.
Screams erupted, tower employees and visitors scrambled, someone lay on the floor. McKay looked out from behind cover. To his surprise, Nero remained unfazed. Despite the obvious danger, he was still standing in the middle of the hall, not even going to hide somewhere. He was an excellent target, and he wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest.
The second bodyguard fired a few shots, and McKay hurried to take cover. On the break, he looked out again and neutralized him with one shot.
McKay realized that it was all over for him now. Nero would have no trouble convincing everyone, including witnesses (if they weren’t already bought by him), that it was the detective who’d started the shooting and the brave bodyguards who’d rushed to protect their employer. McKay pointed the gun at Nero and fired.
The bullet hit him squarely in the chest, but he didn’t even move. There was a hole in the white fabric of his shirt, but McKay didn’t see a drop of blood. It didn’t look like Nero was wearing body armor, but just in case, McKay fired another shot at his chest, and a third shot at his forehead. Again with no effect. McKay couldn’t miss, but the bullets seemed to vaporize. Nero looked furious. He was walking slowly towards McKay.
The detective reloaded the gun and put several more bullets into Nero’s forehead, but also to no avail. It was as if all the bullets had disappeared again. McKay stepped back in fear.
“Who are you?” the detective whispered fearfully.
Nero let out an inhuman guttural growl:
“The Beast.”
A shot rang out. The second guard, who wasn’t killed but only wounded, raised his gun at the frozen McKay and shot him in the chest. The detective began to slump and fell, hitting the tile floor with a thud.
It was as if Nero had woken up. He stopped, looked at the red puddle pouring out from under McKay’s body, at his barely breathing bodyguard, looked at the chaos around him, then looked at his gaping shirt and jacket.
“I need to change,” he muttered and pointed to one of the employees who was getting up off the floor: “Claire! Fix this place up. And keep everyone quiet.”
The employee with fear in her eyes swallowed a lump and nodded.
Nero turned around and headed back to the elevator with a nonchalant look. Nero paid no attention to the barely discernible silhouette of a woman entering from the street, literally through the glass.
“YOU!” he heard a menacing cry behind him.
Standing beside the body of Detective Matt McKay was a woman in battle armor. She had the beautiful face of a thirty-year-old woman, but the look of her green and fierce eyes spoke of a very different, much older age. Her dark red hair was gathered into a ponytail and several thin long ponytails. In her right hand she held a sword, behind her back a spear of light shone brightly.
“Nero. You’re already dead!” said the woman.
For the first time in a long time, Nero couldn’t believe his eyes. He had known this woman firsthand, but he had only seen her once. Then he had stripped her of her title of tigerna, in other words chief or queen, and her lands had been annexed to Rome. That was almost two thousand years ago.
“Boudica,” Nero said in surprise. “I don’t think you should be alive either.”
Nero looked closely at the spear behind her back and shifted his gaze to the dead McKay, who even in death hadn’t dropped his gun from his hands.
“Ah, that’s it,” Nero guessed. “A Celtic mortal had outlived her own gods. So how’s work as a Valkyrie?”
The Celtic gods, like so many others, had long ago been forgotten and disappeared, every last one of them. However, Boudica apparently left such a mark in the minds of people that she was stronger than her own gods, her soul couldn’t disappear so easily. Boudica continued to exist, and at some point she became part of the Scandinavian culture, which is even younger than her. For a while Boudica, like the emperors of the Triumvirate, was all but forgotten, but then something happened that Nero couldn’t help but envy.
In the New Age, a movement began to build up around the figure of Boudica. Fate had played a strange trick on her. Boudica, who had once fought against the greatest empire of the time, became a symbol of the greatest empire in history — thanks to Britain for that. Boudica has acquired a real cult following. If she wanted to, she could easily become a goddess. Unlike the three emperors, the people themselves began to honor her, the warrior herself had nothing to do with it.
“Why aren’t you dead?!” Boudica asked, breathing fiercely.
Nero shook his head absently.
“Because I have become a god! I am immortal now, you saw it yourself. It was difficult, but it was worth it.”
The woman continued to stand still and stare intently at Nero.
“You should have been dead for two thousand years!”
“I’m sorry. I know reality is full of disappointments,” the emperor smiled broadly.
“People like you don’t deserve to live,” Boudica continued. “They belong rotting in the darkness of Helheim!”
“Helheim?” Nero asked, interested. “No, more like Erebus. And I’ve been there. It’s disgusting.”
Boudica didn’t move, but only continued to stare at Nero. She must have been still trying to digest and realize that her nemesis had been alive all this time and had been plotting his intrigues in the shadows.
“So what do you want?” Nero sighed tiredly. “Kill me?”
“Yes!” the woman replied briefly, but continued to stand idly by and hesitate. “You’re a narcissistic and bloodthirsty tyrant!”
“Don’t you dare talk about my bloodthirstiness!” the emperor sharply cut her off. “The rumors are largely exaggerated.” Nero raised his head and stared at Boudica. “And remind me, who of the two of us destroyed London? Who slaughtered the entire population of the four cities, sparing neither women, old men nor children?”
Boudica’s lips quivered. Nero waited silently for an answer.
“Such was the time,” the Valkyrie said in a quiet voice. “But in the millennia since, I have changed my position. I’m not proud of what I have done.”
Nero nodded contentedly. Boudica squared her shoulders and said in a more confident voice:
“But Rome threatened to destroy half my people and take the other half as slaves. I fought against you and died for their freedom!”
Nero raised his index finger sternly.
“You fought not against me, but against Rome.”
“But you ruled it!”
“Yes, but that was my duty,” Nero said. “It was what all my predecessors did, and what the people expected of me. I had to act that way, I couldn’t do otherwise. You said it yourself: those were the times.”
“Liar!” shouted the Valkyrie.
“Boudica. Rome has fallen, and if I cared for it, I wouldn’t have let it happen. “Nero shook his head. “Believe me, I could have. For the last millennia I’ve lived on my own, I don’t need an empire. I started my own business,” he circled his hand around the lobby of the skyscraper they were in.
The people around them continued to panic and try to leave the building. It was unclear what they saw through the Mist, but clearly nothing calming.
Boudica pointed her sword at McKay’s body.
“You killed this hero.”
“Not me, my bodyguard did.”
“It doesn’t matter!”
Boudica was a brave warrior, and Nero didn’t mind such allies. Nero could persuade anyone to help himself. And the fact that Boudica still hadn’t rushed at him, screaming and swinging her sword was a good sign.
The abilities of the Valkyries were impressive. They were able to fly, and their status as einharjar — fallen heroes — gave them enhanced physical strength. Valkyries possessed long spears of light and could summon horses made of clouds. And Boudica’s two thousand years of age spoke volumes about how skillful and deadly a warrior this woman had become, after so many deadly einharjar battles in Valhalla, which happen literally every day there.
“Listen, we’ve all changed,” Nero said in a calm voice. “I have nothing to do with Rome anymore. But I know a place where a part of it has been preserved, where its descendants live. They even call themselves New Rome! The name is different, and it’s not the Fourteenth Legion that defeated you in sixty-first, but their essence is exactly the same. I assure you that they haven’t changed at all over the centuries, they may be weaker, but they are still dangerous and insidious. They are the true heirs of the very empire you and other brave warriors fought against. Like Arminius!” Nero waved his hand as if the legendary Germanic was standing right behind the Valkyrie’s back. “Help me to defeat them, to destroy the last hearth of the Roman Empire. We will make you queen of your former lands once more. Or you can choose another place, as you wish.”
Boudica seemed to ponder his words. Nero was sure he had succeeded in convincing her. But then the Valkyrie raised her head again. Her green eyes, like Greek fire, flashed again with the flames of rage. Nero was frightened, even more so than he had been in the Grove of Dodona. Apparently his persuasion hadn’t worked. But he tried not to show it.
Meanwhile, Boudica, with her free hand, pulled out of her pocket an object that didn’t fit the image of the ancient queen of the Iceni. It was an ordinary smartphone. Boudica dialed some number.
“What kind of ruler turns against his own people?” she asked angrily, putting the phone back.
Nero was about to reply, but suddenly another Valkyrie appeared next to Boudica. Boudica pointed at McKay’s body.
“Erika, take the soul of this brave hero to Valhalla!”
Erika looked around perplexed. She shifted her gaze from the dead body to Boudica, from her to Nero, and to the last remaining mortals in the building. Judging by her frowning eyebrows, the girl realized something was wrong here.
“And you?” she asked Boudica.
“I have my own scores to settle.” Boudica swung her sword, kneading her arm. “Take the hero’s soul and go! And don’t say a word to anyone! Especially Sam and Odin!”
The girl hesitated for a moment, but then jumped to McKay’s body and disappeared as suddenly as she’d appeared.
“I chopped the head off the bronze you that time. I’ll try it with the real Nero,” Boudica said menacingly.
Nero, regaining his composure, arched an eyebrow questioningly.
“You’re not going to kill me, are you? I am a god now, I am immortal,” he reminded her.
“Anyone can be killed. At least I’m going to try.”
Boudica drew her sword and attacked her old enemy with a battle cry.