“Mmm,” Alexander said, still not entirely convinced, but moving on. “You say you entered through the Lacus Curtius?” Alexander asked.

Pierce nodded. “A ladder might be a good idea, though.”

Alexander smiled. “It’s a favored entrance of the Forgotten. They don’t need ladders.”

“The who?” Pierce asked.

“The cloaked men you have encountered. They are as ancient as I am, but lost their voices and souls long ago.”

“Who were they?”

“Test subjects,” Alexander said. When he saw the angry stares of both King and Pierce, he added, “Unending life has slowly peeled away my curtain of immorality. I do not see things the way I used to when I was young. When I was mortal. I wasn’t all that dissimilar from Richard Ridley.”

King pictured Ridely, the head of Manifold Genetics, who had tried to unlock the secrets of immortality. The man’s pursuit of godhood had been ruthless. Human experimentation left victims insane and nearly impervious to harm. Thousands more had come close to death when Ridley’s actions resulted in the mythical Hydra being reborn. No price was too steep, and in the end he achieved his goal of immortality, but lost his company, his men, and his fortune. But he was free, and had all the time in the world to make a comeback. He pictured Alexander in a similar role and the image frightened him. Thank God he’s on our side.

Alexander continued. “The Forgotten are proof of this. I keep them to remind me of what I could be. What I have been. And what the cost of my failures can lead to.”

King waited for the account to continue, but Pierce had already put the pieces together. “They killed Acca. The Forgotten?”

A sudden sadness swept over Alexander. He stared at the floor. “Could you believe it still stings after all this time?” He looked up at them. “They are prone to madness on their own. Desperate with thirst. Hundreds died at their hands in the early years, before Acca was killed. Since then I have kept them sated with a supplement that replaces their craving for blood.”

“You’re not saying they’re vampires,” King said.

Alexander shook his head. “Not in the traditional sense, but it’s possible they’re responsible for the legend.”

“My God…” Pierce said.

“Their hands are covered in pores, each containing a small, strong, and hollow tendril. Thousands of them. This is how they walk on walls. It’s also how they drain blood through their victim’s skin.” He demonstrated by grabbing his own arm with his hand. “May you never end up in their embrace. It is an awful thing.”

For a moment, King wondered if that was a veiled threat, but the distant look of heartbreak had returned to the man’s face. He’d witnessed Acca’s death.

“How did it happen?” King asked. “With Acca?”