by I. T. Lucas
The past twelve days had been miserable, with her trying every trick possible not to think about him and failing. Perhaps she would have been more successful if not for the frequent emails he was sending her.
The guy wasn’t great at composing letters, and his emails usually contained only a few lines of text, telling her tidbits about his day and anecdotes from Kalugal and Jacki’s idyllic marriage. Sometimes, he would mention missing her, but not too often. Still, it was quite evident from the number of his daily emails.
But what he lacked in eloquence, Rufsur made up for with humor. Every email included a caricature, a meme, or a gif. As much as she tried to resist, Edna found herself opening them time and again. They were fun, and no matter how her day had been going, they brought a smile to her face. In fact, she looked forward to every new one, giddy with excitement at the prospect of opening it and finding out what Rufsur had sent her this time.
When did he have time to search for all those humorous tidbits?
Evidently, his job didn’t keep him too busy. Perhaps Rufsur wasn’t as critical to Kalugal’s organization as he believed he was? Could he part with his boss and join the clan?
Edna sighed. Even if that was on the table, which it was not, Rufsur wasn’t the right guy for her. They had nothing in common, and she doubted a long-lasting relationship could be built on lust alone.
He was a fine man, just not for her. And she wasn’t the right woman for him either. Rufsur needed someone as fun-loving as he was, someone uncomplicated and upbeat, someone who would make him happy and not drag him down.
She should be stronger and end this for both their sakes. Except, he wasn’t making it easy. In fact, he was making it damn hard.
At least she’d been smart enough not to give Rufsur her phone number and to limit their communications to emails. Her plan had been to put distance between them and try to get over her silly infatuation with him.
Hearing his voice or seeing his handsome face on a video call would have made it impossible.
Nevertheless, she was still thinking about him multiple times a day and dreaming about him at night. Lustful dreams from which she woke up sweaty, antsy, and needy.
With a sigh, Edna leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
Perhaps she could download a good book to take her mind off him. A long series would be best, something that could transport her into a different reality. If she read until her eyes got blurry, she might not dream at all, or if she did, dream only about the story she’d read.
Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. She could also binge-watch a series on Netflix. She’d been meaning to check out the latest Star Trek series but hadn’t gotten around to it.
With the prospects of going home seemingly less dreary, Edna stacked the files on her desk into a neat pile, wiped the surface clean, and headed out of her office.
A couple of doors down the hallway, Bridget stepped out of hers as well. “Are you going home?” she asked.
“I’m going to grab a sandwich at the café first.”
“Good. I’ll join you.” The doctor fell in step with her. “My fridge is empty. I didn’t have time to do grocery shopping, and Turner is out of town, so the café it is.”
Edna nodded. “Same here.”
Except, in her case, there was no significant other who was mostly there and only temporarily absent. Even if she accepted Rufsur, her guy would be mostly absent and only temporarily present.
Perhaps a friend with benefits was a better way to describe him than a significant other? It didn’t imply commitment, so it was less troublesome to accept.
Rufsur wanted more than that, but his idea of their having a child together was absurd. Even if conception was possible for her, which it might be with Merlin’s help, how could she be a mother? There were no babysitters or other caretakers in the village, and she couldn’t afford to become a full-time mother like Eva had done.
Not true, a small voice in the back of her head whispered. Eva trained a replacement, and she still supervises the operations of her detective agency. You can do the same. The clan has several young lawyers that you can train, and when the baby comes, you can still direct their work.
What about the council? she asked the annoying voice.
The council meets only rarely, and you’d have no problem finding a babysitter when it’s not a daily thing. You could even bring the baby to council meetings.
“Edna?” Bridget asked. “Is everything alright?”
She shook her head to stop the voice in her head. “Why?"
“You spaced out on me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve been working on that land deal all day, and I just thought of a clause that I might have to redo. Did you say something?”
Damn, she hated lying. But if she admitted to having a conversation with an imaginary voice in her head, Bridget might think that she was losing it and suggest a consultation with Vanessa.
Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad idea. The therapist could help her sort things out, and if she saw her as a client, Vanessa would have to keep Edna’s slip into insanity confidential.
“I asked you if you wanted me to get you a cappuccino.”
“Sure. I like the arpeggio.”
“Me too. It’s strong and flavorful.” Bridget winked. “Like a good man.”
Edna ignored the remark, although strong and flavorful fit Rufsur to a tee. “I’ll get the sandwiches from the vending machine. Which one do you want?”
“The basil and mozzarella.”
“Got it.”
As Bridget walked up to the Nespresso device, Edna let out a breath and pulled out the clan credit card to pay for the sandwiches.
In three days, Rufsur would be back, and she still didn’t know how she was going to handle it.
Would she run into his open arms and admit missing him? Or would she play it cool and pretend that their short separation hadn’t bothered her?
The smart thing would be to do the latter, but Edna had a feeling that one look at Rufsur’s smile and adorable dimples would crumble her defenses, and she would succumb to the former.
3
Eleanor
Eleanor Takala, aka Marisol Ortega, aka Gina Padenton, read the email from Director Roberts for the third time and still couldn’t believe her eyes.
Dear Marisol,
I regret to inform you that your services will no longer be required. In an effort to cut costs, it has been decided to replace you with two full-time in-house recruiters. Your salary and the bonuses paid to you for each new trainee were deemed excessive.
Even though severance pay wasn't included in your contract, which I should remind you was terminable without notice by both parties, I managed to convince the administration to compensate you for the abrupt termination in the generous sum of $50,000.
Because of the sensitivity of this program and others at this location, your access has been revoked, and you are prohibited from entering the facility. If you attempt to do so, you will be arrested, and charges will be brought against you. The contents of your apartment in the facility have been packed up and shipped to your address in Harrisonburg. The van should be arriving later today.
Also, your security clearance has been revoked, and you can no longer access government databases.
I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Director Roberts.
Son of a bitch.
So that was why he’d suggested that she take a few days off. How naive she’d been to believe that he was rewarding her for all the hard work she’d put in helping him get settled in Simmons’s position.
For two weeks, he’d been pulling the wool over her eyes, telling her how important she was to the continuation of the program and how impossible recruiting would have been without her.
The coward was afraid of her, and rightfully so.
If she’d suspected anything, Eleanor would have compelled the so
n of a bitch to obey her in every way, turning him into a puppet on her strings.
Damn. Why hadn’t she done it just in case?
She wasn’t a naive young woman, and if her life experience had taught her anything, it was that people were shit, users, manipulators, and liars.
While biding his time, Roberts had been playing her so well, giving her compliments and treating her as if she wasn’t only an indispensable asset but also a trusted friend.
What an actor.
He’d done it only as long as he’d needed her help to get acclimated in his new job, and once he was comfortable in the position, he’d gotten rid of her.
It also explained why he’d asked her to remove the compulsions that she had put on the trainees at Simmons’s request. The jerk had been so convincing when he’d explained that none of it had been sanctioned by the higher-ups, and that since he was much more risk-averse than Simmons, he wanted to run things by the book.
The truth was that he’d wanted them free of her compulsion, so she could no longer influence them, even at the cost of his darling breeding program.
His loss.
The trainees would no longer be compelled to have sex with each other, and as a result, they wouldn’t produce super babies for the program, not unless they did it voluntarily. They would also be free of the compulsion that had restricted their communications with the outside world.
The same methods that kept the other departments in the facility secret were now supposedly good enough for the paranormal talent department.
Except, they weren’t.
The facility’s other personnel couldn’t communicate telepathically, which was undetectable by any conventional means, and therefore unenforceable. That had been the reason that Simmons had asked her to compel their trainees to avoid contact with outsiders in the first place.
But whatever. It was no longer her problem. In fact, Eleanor wished wholeheartedly that one of those recruits would leak info out to the damn Chinese, who were supposedly also searching for paranormal talents.
Perhaps she should contact the Chinese recruiters herself and offer her services?
The question was how to find them.
Simmons had kept talking about their paranormal research, so he must have known something. Except, she no longer had access to his files.
Or did she?
Eleanor had seen Simmons making handwritten notes, but she hadn’t found them while helping Roberts get settled. Where could they be?
She doubted he’d destroyed them.
Simmons’s age hadn’t stopped him from philandering like there was no tomorrow, but he had been old-fashioned in other ways. Even though he’d been damn smart and knowledgeable, he had never fully trusted computers or the safety of information encryption.
Maybe he’d been right about that, and digital information wasn’t as safe as old-fashioned notes hidden in a safe place?
Eleanor was willing to bet that Simmons had kept paperwork in his home, probably in a safe.
She could easily get his widow to grant her access to whatever she wanted. It wouldn’t be the first time that she had compelled the old woman. Except, this time, it wouldn’t be on Simmons’s behalf to make the wife forget yet another one of his numerous transgressions.
Since the couple didn’t have children, the widow was all alone, and there would be no one to stop Eleanor from snooping around the house to her heart's content. Hell, Bella Simmons would probably be glad of the company and help her find whatever she was looking for.
Excitement bubbling in her chest, Eleanor picked up her phone, but then put it back down.
It was a burner, but she shouldn’t make phone calls like that from her apartment. She was willing to bet that Roberts had the place thoroughly bugged.
In fact, after she got what she needed from Simmons’s widow, she should disappear.
What if Roberts decided to tie up loose ends and have her killed?
After all, she knew about all the illegal stuff he and Simmons had done, and she could rat him out. Leaving her alive was a risk, and the guy had admitted openly to being risk-averse.
What if he had killed Simmons?
With the two being best friends and co-conspirators, it hadn’t occurred to her before. But what if Roberts had gotten sick of being second fiddle to Simmons?
Or perhaps he’d had enough of Simmons’s illegal adventures and wanted to stop living in fear of getting caught by the higher-ups?
That was motive enough to kill. Get rid of the risk-taker along with the risk.
The problem was that hiding would be damn hard to do.
Roberts had access to pretty much everything, and unless she ran off to some god-forsaken country, he could find her even without the damn tracker that Simmons had forced her to accept.
That made finding the Chinese and offering them her services even more crucial. It was no longer about money and getting back at Roberts.
Her life might depend on it.
In the meantime, she needed a safe place to hide.
First thing, though, she was getting rid of the damn tracker even if she had to cut it out of her own flesh with a kitchen knife.
4
Vlad
As the sun hit Vlad’s tablet at an angle that made it impossible to see what he was drawing, he shifted his chair to the right. That was the trouble with working outside, and why he rarely did it. Unlike Dalhu, who could take his easel and his oil paints anywhere, Vlad used a stylus on a screen to create his art, and the sun was not his friend.
Usually he worked at home, which was why he rarely saw sunshine and was as pale as a real vampire. But since Wendy had started working at the café last Monday, he wanted to be near her and had been spending his afternoons in the most shaded corner of the place he could find.
“What are you drawing?” Callie leaned over his shoulder.
“It’s part of a project for school.”
Creating patterns for fabrics and wallpaper wasn’t very exciting, but then most of the assignments weren’t. Vlad didn’t mind, though. He was learning important skills.
“Can I see?”
He lifted the tablet and handed it to her.
“You’re really talented. What do you do with the pattern once it’s finished? Do you print it out and put it in your portfolio?”
Vlad took the tablet back. “Only the projects that I like. We submit our work digitally, and those are just patterns. I don’t plan on a career in fabric or wallpaper design, so there is no point in printing them out for my portfolio. It’s also not something anyone is going to hang on the wall.” He chuckled. “Unless they are used for wallpaper.”
“What else do you create?” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I mean when it’s not homework.” She waved a hand. “What gets your creative juices flowing?”
Unable to resist the opportunity to show off, Vlad pulled up the drawings he’d made of Wendy.
They weren’t actual portraits. He didn’t have the guts to tackle that yet. It wasn’t something he was good at, not like Dalhu, who somehow captured people’s essences in the expressions he painted.
What Vlad had drawn were cartoonish representations of Wendy.
It had started with her asking him to draw her as Wonder Woman just for kicks and giggles. But after seeing how happy it had made her, he’d continued drawing her as every female comics’ superhero he could think of.
“I love these.” Callie scrolled through the selection. “You could create a comic series of your own starring Wendy. I have a friend who makes them. He started small, but over the last year, his comic has gained popularity and sells quite well.” She leaned to whisper in his ear. “Don’t tell anyone, but Donnie based his superhero on Brundar and even made him a vampire.”
“Does he suspect that Brundar is different?”
By now, everyone knew about the nightclub that Brundar co-owned with a human. For years, he’d kept it a secret, but it had gotten out when he’d mated Callie. Since
Donnie the comic maker knew them both, he must have worked at the club.
She chuckled. “We are talking about Brundar, Vlad. Everyone knows that he is different, they just don’t know to what extent.”
“You have a point.” The guy had the face of an angel and the personality of a deadly assassin. Frankly, the dude intimidated the hell out of him, and he couldn’t imagine the stern Guardian tolerating being the star of a comic book series. “Does Brundar know about it?”
She huffed out a breath. “Of course not. I convinced Donnie to change his superhero’s appearance, so he wouldn’t look exactly like Brundar. Donnie works as a bouncer in the club, and he’s twice as big as Brundar, but he has healthy instincts and knows that angering the boss is not a good idea.”
“Do you think that the dude suspects that Brundar is not human?”
She nodded. “Donnie has a creative mind, and it goes places other people’s wouldn’t. But I feed him enough misinformation to confuse him. I hinted that Brundar had served in Special Forces and that he suffers from PTSD.”
Vlad sighed. “I would love to meet Donnie, but if he is already suspicious of Brundar, he will get even more so after seeing me.” He smiled, revealing his fangs. “They don’t look normal in their resting state, and they elongate at the slightest provocation.”
“That’s a problem. How do you manage in the human world?”
He shrugged. “The goth look helps. People think that they are fake.”
“Clever. I can tell Donnie that you had your canines replaced with prosthetics. He’s such a great guy, and he will be happy to give you pointers.” Her smile wilted. “He’s always ready to help. When my ex kidnapped me, I was on a break outside, and Donnie was showing me his comics. Shawn knocked him out before grabbing me, which was fortunate because if he hadn’t, Donnie would have tried to stop him, and Shawn would have shot him.” She grimaced. “He was in a murderous mood, probably hyped up on drugs, and he was ready to kill anyone who stood in his way.”
