by I. T. Lucas
Bridget glanced to her right, searching Annani’s face for her reaction. Earlier, Kian had emailed the goddess the revised budget and the much less ambitious plan they’d devised as per her instructions. Hopefully, it was enough.
When Annani finally nodded, Bridget felt faint with relief. Half the battle was already won. From now on it was going to be easy.
Joining her on the stage, Kian raised his hand to quiet the murmurs. “It’s time to vote. All those in favor, please rise and raise your hands.”
The first to stand were the council members and acting Guardians of both keeps, followed by about one-third of the audience.
That wasn’t good enough. They needed a unanimous vote, and there was only one way it was going to happen.
Everyone’s eyes turned to Annani.
With a smile, the goddess rose to her feet, but instead of raising her hand, she started clapping.
A moment later, all three assembly halls were roaring with claps, and every clan member who was old enough to vote was standing.
Mission accomplished.
Almost.
Bridget saved the call to the Guardians for last. The success, or conversely failure, of this part was almost as pivotal to the plan as the financial one.
Chapter 38: Turner
Turner was honored by Kian’s invitation to witness the clan’s big assembly vote on the proposed plan, and grateful for the opportunity to observe the democratic proceedings.
He’d gotten several suspicious looks before Anandur had taken him under his big wing, seating Turner in the front row between himself and a council member named Edna, who’d been gracious enough to explain that the clan didn’t operate as a pure democracy. Not every decision needed a vote, but then even the goddess couldn’t overrule the big assembly’s vote on those that did.
It was a hybrid system, which Edna assured him had withstood the test of time.
Turner listened intently to the councilwoman’s explanations until the moment the two big screens flanking the podium lit up, and he’d gotten his first look at the goddess. No one had to point her out to him, he knew right away who she was, and not because of Bridget’s Little Mermaid story.
When whoever was filming the goddess and the group of immortals living with her, zoomed in on her impossible face, Turner’s breath caught in his throat. Ancient eyes in a youthful face that was so beautiful he could not look away.
There was a glow around her, and it was nothing like the halo artists depicted above angels’ heads. Every exposed part of her body seemed to emit a soft light.
He wondered whether it was safe for a human to be exposed to her. Had the men she’d seduced in order to have children died following the encounter?
Had it been worth it?
He had a feeling it had.
“The Clan Mother has this effect on people,” Edna whispered in his ear. “Even on us who are familiar with her. I’ve seen Annani countless times, and I’m still awed every time anew.”
Turner could do little other than nod in agreement. His eyes refused to leave the incredible sight.
“She can dim the effect when she wants,” Edna said. “Otherwise she could’ve never interacted with humans.”
“Is it dangerous to be near her? For a human?” Turner asked without looking at Edna.
“Not unless you anger her. She might look like love personified, but Annani has a temper, and she is impulsive.”
Curious to find out more, Turner finally forced his gaze away from the goddess and looked into Edna’s kind eyes. “Does she hurt those who anger her?”
Edna smiled. “She can give a verbal lashing like any other irate female with a diva complex. But nothing more dangerous than that. Annani is compassionate. Overly so, if you ask me. She never uses her power to do harm.”
Interesting.
The way the councilwoman talked about the goddess, openly and without fear, one would think she was gossiping about a beloved aunt. Edna had respect and genuine fondness for Annani, but she didn’t worship her as a deity, and she also didn’t hesitate to poke a bit of fun at the most powerful being on earth.
It spoke volumes about Annani’s character and made him even more eager to meet her. To have so much power and not abuse it required incredible strength, an unyielding moral code, and a clarity of purpose. It seemed as if her only flaw was a bit of a diva attitude, but in his opinion, she was wholly entitled to it.
Turner would’ve given away his entire life savings for an audience with Annani. Regrettably, there was no chance of her granting it unless he transitioned, and even then there was no guarantee she would.
“Good evening, everyone.” Bridget walked up to the podium, and everyone hushed.
Looking at her, no one would have suspected how anxious Bridget had been only moments before. The woman on the podium looked confident and professional.
He was so proud of her.
Bridget’s presentation lasted about forty-five minutes and went without a hitch. Her audience ate from the palm of her hand, responding exactly as she wanted them to.
Well, that remained to be seen. Until the voting was done, nothing was guaranteed.
Then the moment of truth arrived, and Turner watched with dread as only about a third of the clan supported the initiative. Bridget would be devastated.
Hell, she wouldn’t be the only one.
He’d been hoping to get the ball rolling before attempting his transition. If he died, he would check out peacefully knowing that he’d accomplished something important.
On the big screen, the goddess stood up and started clapping, and soon everyone was on their feet and clapping along.
The noise was deafening, but it was the best sound Turner had ever heard. Annani had backed their initiative, and the clan followed.
The clapping continued as Shai, Kian’s assistant, counted the votes.
“We have a unanimous vote,” he announced.
“Thank you, Shai,” Bridget said, trying to look professional and not show the tremendous relief she was feeling.
“I have one more item on my agenda for tonight.”
The room fell quiet, as did the other two, and people sat back down. She clicked her remote, and a slide with about a hundred names appeared on the screen behind her.
“I’m sure you recognize the names.” She pointed at the screen. “This is a list of every Guardian who's ever served. The first eighteen names are those who are currently active. Nine here at this keep, six in Scotland, and Annani’s three. That leaves seventy-six retirees.”
Snickers and backslaps resounded throughout the room, as those seated next to ex-Guardians laughed at the term.
He and Bridget had debated which one to use, vacillating between those that were more flattering, to those that sounded somewhat offensive. Eventually, they had settled on retirees as something in between.
“We need you,” Bridget continued once the noise settled down. “These girls need you. They need powerful men like you to be their champions, their heroes, to show them that there are men who are not like the ones who took them and abused them, and to show the world what a few good men can do.”
She paused, letting her words sink in.
“You have a chance to make a difference, to make the world a better place. Isn’t that why you joined the force in the first place?”
She looked at the people sitting in front of her and then turned to those on the two screens flanking the podium.
“We need our army back to protect the clan when needed and help those who no one else will help.”
She switched to the next PowerPoint presentation, showing slide after slide of the new village Kian had built for his people. “This beautiful place is remote and well protected, and yet close to all the amenities a big city like Los Angeles can provide. This is where you will be living.”
She smiled and lifted a hand. “Before all of you hurry to pack your suitcases, I want to remind you that Sari needs you as well and that some of the b
rothel raids are going to be happening in her territory. So please, talk among yourselves and decide who stays and who comes here.”
This was another tactic they’d discussed—assuming the win.
Bridget put back up the list of names. “I would love to get an answer from each one of you, either yea or nay, over the next several days. After that, I’m going to call those who are still facing difficulties leaving their current occupations and offer any help I can.”
Turning toward Annani’s screen, Bridget bowed. “Thank you, Clan Mother, for your support.” She then turned to the other screen and bowed again. “Sari, thank you for helping organize this event.” Lastly, she faced her live audience. “Everyone, thank you for your selfless support of this important cause. I’m proud to be a member of such an amazing family.” She put her hand over her heart. “My clan. My people.”
That last part hadn’t been rehearsed.
Bridget’s heartfelt gratitude was genuine, and everyone hearing it recognized it as such. The crowd erupted in applause, everyone present and those on the screens standing up as Bridget bowed again and then wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.
Turner clapped until his palms stung. Well done, my lady, well done.
Chapter 39: Bridget
Bridget’s face hurt from smiling. Everyone wanted to congratulate her personally, ask questions, and give her hugs. It was amazing and exhausting, and she braced herself for spending several more hours doing the same.
After all, she couldn’t refuse anyone, not after they’d unanimously approved her proposal.
Victor stood to the side, partially hidden behind one of the screens and trying to avoid the immortal stampede. As he was the only human present, she couldn’t fault him for being cautious, but she longed for his embrace. This was his victory as much as it was hers. They had both worked hard to make this presentation a success.
He deserved to be in the spotlight just as much as she did.
Bridget cast him an apologetic smile, but he seemed satisfied remaining in the shadows. That was where Victor felt the most comfortable. It was obvious he didn’t want the attention. Even if he were an immortal and part of the clan, he would have done exactly what he was doing now.
Bridget didn’t mind one way or the other. She didn’t crave the attention or shy away from it. But it would have been nice to get out of there, kick off her high heels, and relax with a drink.
It had been a long and intense journey that had culminated in an emotionally charged performance, and she was exhausted.
“You’ve done great.” Kian pulled her into a hug which was a rarity for him. The guy wasn’t into displays of physical affection except for with his wife. On the few occasions Bridget had interacted with the couple in a social setting, she’d been embarrassed for Syssi because Kian insisted his wife sat in his lap, and he kept stroking her back as if she was his comfort blanket.
In a way she was. Syssi had a calming effect on Kian, for which everyone in the keep was grateful. Without her, the guy would have been intolerable.
“Thank you.” She made a move to push away from him but Kian wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held on.
“If I don’t get you out of here, you’re going to fall down on your face from fatigue,” he whispered, but it was loud enough for those standing close to them to hear.
He waved a hand in a shooing motion. “Let the good doctor rest after the tremendous job she’s done. Bridget is tired and needs to go home. Whatever you want to tell her or ask her can be done via text or email tomorrow. She is done for tonight.”
“Thank you again.” She leaned her head against his bicep as Kian walked her out of the assembly hall. Turner followed a step behind them, walking in Kian’s big shadow.
“Come up to the penthouse. Otherwise, you’ll get accosted in the elevators. Syssi is making cappuccinos.”
“What I need now is a drink, not a cappuccino,” she said as they entered the penthouse’s dedicated elevator.
Kian let go of her as soon as the doors closed. Bridget leaned against the wall and extended her hand to Victor. “I need a hug.”
Turner glanced at Kian, then embraced her for about two seconds, clapping her back and murmuring, “I’m proud of you.”
Her guy wasn’t into public displays of affection either.
Syssi, on the other hand, had no such qualms. “You were awesome,” she squealed and pounced on Bridget as soon as Kian opened the door to their penthouse.
“Thank you. It was exhausting.”
Syssi led her to the couch. “I can imagine.” She pushed the ottoman closer. “Take off your shoes and put your feet up. They must be killing you after standing up for so long.”
“They are.” Bridget followed Syssi’s advice.
To her great surprise, Turner sat on the ottoman, lifted one of her feet into his lap, and started massaging.
The groan she emitted sounded like she was having a mini orgasm.
Victor chuckled. “Better?”
“Yes. Please don’t stop.”
Kian walked over to the bar, where Syssi got busy with her cappuccino machine. “What would you like to drink, Bridget?”
“Something sweet but strong. I need to unwind.”
“You can make her my version of a Moscow Mule,” Syssi suggested.
“Sounds interesting. What’s in it?”
“Ginger ale, ginger paste, fresh lime juice, and mango-flavored vodka.”
“Yummy. Just don’t skimp on the vodka.”
“For you, Turner?” Kian asked.
“Whatever you’re drinking.”
“Scotch?”
“Sure.”
Victor switched to her other foot, eliciting another inappropriate moan.
“We have a guest room you can use.” Syssi handed Bridget her drink and sat on the couch next to her, a cappuccino cup cradled between her palms. “The problem with you Scots is that you all like your alcohol so much. Hardly anyone wants to taste my cappuccinos, which are amazing if I say so myself. I think I make the best ones in town.”
“Don’t brag.” Kian handed Turner a glass, eyed the spot next to Syssi on the couch, then sighed and sat on one of the armchairs. “Before you know it you’ll be running the new café in the village. You’ll get sick of making cappuccinos in no time.”
Bridget stifled a giggle. Syssi was just saved from sitting in Kian’s lap again.
Except, a moment later the woman rose to her feet and went to sit on her husband’s lap anyway. As she settled against him, his hand went to work stroking her back, and his facial muscles relaxed.
Did Syssi know she had such a profound effect on Kian?
Probably. Or maybe she just enjoyed the closeness as much as he did.
“That was a clever move on your part to show the Guardians pictures of the village,” Syssi said. “The place is beautiful, and the individual houses are such a big departure from the almost communal living we have here in the keep, and at the two other strongholds. It’s a powerful incentive.”
Bridget sighed and let her head drop back on the couch’s down-filled cushion. “I threw in everything I could think of. If that doesn't work, we are screwed because I’m out of ideas.”
“It will work,” Victor said. “I was watching the expressions on the faces of some of the men. I think you will have a good turnout.”
“I agree with Turner,” Kian said. “When you finished the segment with the personal stories, the guys I watched looked ready to kill. And when you finished the segment about what can be done, they looked excited.”
Bridget took a sip of the Moscow Mule. It was good, so she took another sip, and then another, until most of the drink was gone. It wasn’t enough alcohol to affect her, but it tasted great. She could go for another.
“We will know by tomorrow.”
Syssi cast her a worried look. “Will you be able to sleep?”
“Oh, yeah, like a baby.” Bridget waved a hand. “I’ve done my part to the bes
t of my ability, and I have no regrets. The rest is up to the Fates.”
Chapter 40: Turner
By the time they had left Kian’s and got back to their own apartment, Bridget was swaying on her feet. Holding on to her, Turner wondered whether the culprit was fatigue or alcohol. She’d ended up drinking three of Syssi’s vodka and ginger ale concoctions.
Bridget kicked off her shoes the moment they crossed the threshold and, not bothering to pick them up, headed down the corridor to the master bedroom. She shrugged off her jacket, letting it fall on the floor, then pulled her blouse over her head and let it drop too.
With a smile, Turner collected the discarded items of clothing and followed her to the bedroom. The trail continued into the bathroom, where he found her standing naked and looking at the shower’s faucet as if it were an alien contraption she had no idea how to operate.
Bridget was definitely drunk.
“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” He picked up the rest of the garments, put the suit and blouse in the dry-clean bin, and the bra and panties in the delicates hamper.
She glanced at the jacuzzi tub, then back at the shower, and again at the tub. “I can’t decide.”
He reached around her and turned on the faucet. “You look too tired for a bath.” Or rather too drunk, but he was being polite.
“Okay.” She waited for the steam to fill out the shower enclosure before stepping inside.
Leaning against the vanity, Turner watched her stand under the spray. Should he get in there with her?
