by I. T. Lucas
Fucking hell. Why did he feel sorry for the kid?
“I’m not a murderer.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“What’s going on?” Alfred said from behind them.
“You missed all the action. Say hello to Arturo Junior.”
Chapter 56: Sharon
Sharon opened her eyes in an unfamiliar room. Robert was sitting on a chair next to her bed, his elbows propped on his knees and his head propped on his hands.
“Where am I?” She asked. “Is it a hospital?”
He lifted his head and smiled. “It’s a clinic. I’m so happy you’re awake.”
“Did I pass out again?”
“I couldn’t wake you up in the morning. You were unconscious.”
“Oh, wow, that’s serious. What’s wrong with me?”
He took her hand, careful on the intravenous needle. “Apparently, you’re transitioning,” he whispered.
Why was he whispering? Was there another patient in the room with her?
Sharon turned her head to one side and then the other, but hers was the only bed in there.
“Why are you whispering?”
“You’re not supposed to know about it, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. What should I do?”
“I’m allowed to tell you now, so all you have to do is act like you did when I first told you.”
“Got it.”
She looked at the drip tube. “What’s in it?”
“Just fluids. Would you like me to raise the back of the bed?”
“Yes, please.”
Robert took the remote from the side table and pressed a button. “Is that good?” He stopped when the back was inclined in close to a forty-five-degree angle.
“Perfect.” Sharon pushed herself up to a more comfortable position. “How long have I been in here?”
“Since early morning. It’s after midnight now. Let me get you a cup of water. You’re probably parched.”
“Thank you.”
While Robert got busy filling a paper cup with water from the pitcher on her bedside table, Sharon made a quick calculation. Early morning by Robert’s standards was around five am. She’d fallen asleep around nine in the evening, which meant that she’d been out for over twenty-seven hours.
Horrified, Sharon realized that after this long without a change of tampon meant that she was probably lying in a pool of blood.
Then another thought struck her, worse than the first. If she was being provided fluids intravenously, those fluids had to come out on the other side, which meant a catheter.
Immortal or not, she was going to die of embarrassment if Julian had inserted it.
“Um, Robert? Who put in the IV? Was it Julian?”
God, let it be a nurse. It would be freaking embarrassing even if a woman had done it, but an unfamiliar nurse was infinitely better than a young, hot doctor, whom she’d just had dinner with.
He handed her the plastic cup. “No, it was Dr. Bridget, Julian’s mother.”
“Thank God.” Sharon slumped against the bed’s raised back. “Thank you for making sure it was a woman. I would have been mortified if it were Julian.” She took a few sips of water, then chugged the rest. Apparently, she’d been thirstier than she’d thought.
Robert rubbed his stubbled chin. “I can’t take credit for it. With the state of panic I was in, your modesty or my jealousy were the last things on my mind. But Bridget said Julian was not experienced with transitions yet, and that he should just watch this time.”
Sharon groaned. “So he was here when she did it?”
“No. She told us both to wait outside.”
“Remind me to thank her for that.”
“She is probably going to come in at any moment.” Robert leaned up and kissed her lips lightly. “Remember to act surprised.” He whispered.
A moment later there was a knock on the door, and then the doctor entered without waiting for a reply. It was a little rude in Sharon’s opinion, but then in her experience doctors were strange people. Some were courteous, and some were not.
“Hello, Sharon. I’m Doctor Bridget.” The woman offered her hand.
Sharon shook the woman’s hand, taking the opportunity to look closely at her pretty face. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking care of me.”
Whichever type Dr. Bridget was, the courteous or the rude, she definitely didn’t look like Sharon would have imagined Julian’s mom to look like. First of all, she was too young to be anyone’s mom unless she went to medical school while raising a child, and secondly, the woman was tiny, and Julian was tall.
“You’re welcome. How are you feeling?” the redheaded doctor asked.
“Good. Better than yesterday. No cramps.”
“No sore muscles?”
“Nope.”
Julian’s mom frowned. “Did Robert fill you in on what’s going on?”
“Oh my gosh, he did.” Sharon gasped dramatically and put the hand not connected to tubes on her chest. “I was sure he was pulling my leg, but then he showed me his fangs, and oh, wow. I still can’t believe it.” She narrowed her eyes at Bridget and then at Robert. “If those things are prosthetics and you guys are pranking me, I’m never going to forgive you.” She pointed a finger at Robert, then at Julian’s mom. “And if you’re not a real doctor, you too.”
It was a very well done performance, if she said so herself, but Bridget seemed doubtful.
Of course. They were so dumb. Could the doctor smell the lie? But then Sharon wasn’t lying. She was just replaying her former reaction as authentically as she could.
Bridget smiled. “It’s quite a shock to discover that humans are not the only intelligent species on earth.”
“Are there more? I mean other than humans and immortals? What about shapeshifters? Or werewolves? Vampires? Angels?” She’d asked Robert the same questions, but he’d admitted to having had a very limited education. Perhaps the doctor knew more.
“Not as far as we know. But I’m not dismissing the possibility. In the same way as humans are not aware of our existence, we might not be aware of the existence of other hidden species.”
“Yeah. What about aliens?”
The doctor chuckled. “You should ask Julian about that.”
“I will.” Her face twisted in an involuntary grimace. Even though it never happened, she couldn’t banish the image of him cleaning her up before inserting the catheter.
The doctor pulled out her stethoscope from her coat pocket and turned to Robert. “Would you excuse us for a few minutes? I need to examine Sharon.”
“Of course.” He gave Sharon’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be outside.”
“Okay.”
Doctor Bridget waited for the door to close behind Robert. “Can you tell me what the grimace was all about? Did Julian do or say something to offend you?”
Sharon shook her head. “No way. I love Julian.” She quickly added, “Like a brother. But I don’t want him to handle my privates, especially when I’m on my period.”
“He didn’t. I did.”
“I know, and you have my eternal gratitude and apologies for it. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking that it might have been him. I would’ve avoided him for the rest of my life. Ugh, what a bad time to transition. I hate having periods. I should take one of those six-month contraceptive shots and be free of them, but I’m scared. I heard there are a lot of side effects. Like gaining weight. I can’t afford my ass to get any bigger.” Sharon was babbling to cover her embarrassment.
Bridget chuckled. “I have good news for you. Immortal females don’t get menses.”
That wasn’t good news. “Are you saying that I won’t be able to have children?” Robert hadn’t said anything about that, the asshat. What if transitioned females were rendered infertile? She would’ve never agreed to let him bite her without protection if she’d known that. She’d always imagined having a family.
Bridget sat on the chair Robert had vacated. “Imm
ortal females ovulate when their body recognizes a sexual partner that is biologically compatible. A female is born with all the eggs she’ll ever have. With our long lifespans, we can’t afford to waste any.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I can’t imagine life without children.” She would have added something about ending Robert’s prospects of fatherhood in retaliation, but that would’ve implied prior knowledge.
“Our long lives also mean that even when we have a compatible partner, conception is rare. It’s an evolutionary balancing factor. Without it, our species would’ve overrun the earth a long time ago.”
Chapter 57: Turner
“Do you think he’ll let him live?” Alfred asked as they left Sandoval’s compound.
“Yeah, I think he will.”
Turner had delivered the unconscious, hog-tied Arturo Junior to his uncle, and after the nephew had been ensconced in one of the rooms in the basement, he’d had a long heart to heart talk with the man.
Under different circumstances, he would’ve killed Junior on the spot. Letting compassion dictate his actions and leaving a threat alive was an amateur’s move. But given Turner’s impending transition and possible demise, the threat would no longer be relevant. He could afford to spare the nephew’s life. Except, it didn’t make sense to grant Junior another chance on life just to have Sandoval take it away.
Hence the talk.
The strangest one Turner ever had.
He’d known Latino men were not afraid to show emotions and were much less reserved than Americans and Europeans, but he hadn’t been prepared for a man like Sandoval to cry openly for hours, including loud sobs and the invoking of the Virgin Mary and begging the heavens for help.
The man was as ruthless as they came, not a gentle soul.
After hearing Turner out, Sandoval had been grief-stricken, devastated worse than if Junior had arrived in a body bag.
It had taken hours to talk him into seeing that this wasn’t the end of the world. The conversation had drained Turner worse than a bare knuckle match with a champion fighter. Faking empathy and compassion had stretched his acting skills to the limit, as had dealing with Sandoval’s over the top emotional outbursts.
He needed to hear Bridget’s calm, rational voice to regain his equilibrium.
Back in the hotel room, Turner checked the time before dialing her number. She was probably asleep, but he couldn’t wait until morning to tell her the good news that he was no longer in danger.
“Hi, Victor,” she answered right away even though it was late at night in Los Angeles.
“What are you doing awake?”
“Another female Dormant is transitioning. I’m down in the clinic, watching over her.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. What are you doing awake? Or is it morning already where you are?”
“Almost. It’s sunrise. But I haven’t been to bed yet. I had some excitement last night.”
“What happened?” Her previously cheerful tone turned somber.
He told her a shortened version of the events. “The good news is that I found who was after me and eliminated the threat.”
“Did you? His uncle can release Junior tomorrow, and he’ll just resume his vendetta.”
“I don’t think so. I had a long talk with my client.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Basically, I asked him to forgive the kid. I told him Junior had thought he had no other choice, and that this was the only way for him to be with the person he loved. He knew his uncle would not accept him, and even if he had, that he wouldn’t allow the boyfriend anywhere near him.”
“I don’t see how it solves the problem of Junior coming after you.”
“I hope I convinced the uncle to give the kid another chance. I told him that he would gain Junior’s loyalty by accepting him and his natural, God-given inclinations.”
“God-given?”
Turner rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I know. That was underhanded, but I was running out of arguments. I asked him if he thought God made mistakes, which he naturally had to answer in the negative. I then convinced him that God had a plan for Junior, and that after the kid served an appropriate penance, he should restore Junior as his right-hand man. ”
“I’m impressed.”
He chuckled. “I don't know if you should. I was spouting nonsense. It took hours of talking during which he didn’t stop crying and bemoaning Junior never having a family or fathering a successor. In the small hours of the morning, he had an epiphany. Junior can have a wife and have kids while keeping a male lover on the side.”
“I pity the future wife.”
“Does it really matter if the extramarital affair is with a female or a male? Because that’s the norm here.”
“For men.”
“Yes. I didn’t say I condone it. It is what it is.”
“Right. It would take longer than even an immortal’s lifespan to fix everything that is wrong with this world.”
Chapter 58: Bridget
“Are you ready for the test? Bridget asked.
Sharon nodded, her eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.
The girl was going through the process of internalizing the transition much easier than the others. Perhaps it was because of how mild her symptoms were, or perhaps she just had an open mind and didn’t fear change.
“It’s going to hurt a little.” Bridget lifted the small scalpel off the tray.
“Go for it, Doc.” Sharon offered her palm.
As she made the incision, Bridget heard Robert suck in a breath.
Sharon only winced.
Julian played the part of a fly on the wall, watching silently and not moving a muscle.
As familiar as this process was, it never failed to excite her. It was like delivering babies. No matter how many a midwife or a doctor had welcomed into this world, a new life brought joy and excitement. Well, not always, shit happened, but most of the time.
No more than a minute had passed, and yet it was enough time for Bridget’s anxiety to spike. Picking up a gauze square, she held Sharon’s hand and dabbed at the cut, holding her breath while cleaning the blood away.
She let out a relieved breath. The cut was closing.
“Welcome to immortality, Sharon.” Bridget backed away to let Robert come forward and celebrate the good news with his girl.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Sharon said through teary eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
“Congratulations to both of you,” Julian said.
Bridget threaded her arm through her son’s. “Come on, let’s give them some privacy.”
As they left the room, Julian closed the door behind them. “It was very moving. I didn’t expect it to affect me like that.”
She patted his shoulder. “It’s like delivering a baby. Though in this case, the baby is immortal and fully grown.”
For once, Julian hadn’t retorted with a joke, which attested to his emotional state.
“I think you can manage without me from here on out. Before dismissing Sharon, give her the same instructions you would give a patient recovering from surgery.”
“I got it. You’re free to go.”
”Call me if you need me.” She removed the white coat and hung it on a peg.
Out in the hallway, Bridget stretched her arms and yawned. She should get some sleep. Turner was coming back tonight, and they were going out to celebrate in By Invitation Only. Syssi had suggested it as the best place for a special occasion and had made the reservations for them.
If the experience was as amazing as everyone who’d tried it was claiming, she might buy a membership. With Julian back and Turner in her life, she could occasionally treat her family to fancy dinners at the place. After all, she could afford it, and splurging on pampering the people she loved was never a waste of money.
Chapter 59: Turner
“Welcome to By Invitation Only.” The hostess smiled first at Bridget and
then at Turner before picking two leather-bound menus and leading them to their table.
He was still silently cursing the airline for the hour delay that had caused him to alter his plans for this evening. He’d been supposed to be home by five, which would’ve given them plenty of time for wild sex before getting ready for their seven o'clock dinner reservation.
Instead, to make it on time, they’d had to rush out right as soon as he’d gotten back. If it were up to him, Turner would’ve preferred to celebrate at home, but Bridget had had other ideas.
Naturally, he’d known all about the exclusive restaurant and the movers and shakers who bought the insanely expensive memberships for the privilege of dining on the best gourmet food outside of France. Not to mention the pleasure of having the culinary experience somewhere the paparazzi couldn’t find them, which made it perfect for dining out with a mistress or a lover and other clandestine meetings.
He was intrigued. Nevertheless, Turner would have gladly skipped it for an evening at home with Bridget.
Small tables, most of them set for two, were accented by soft candlelight. It was ingeniously done, so the food was clearly illuminated but not the diners' faces. He had to squint to make out facial features, and then only when the diner bent his or her head down to scoop another morsel onto a fork.
Bridget had no such problems. Not only was her immortal eyesight sharper, it also functioned better in the dark.
When they were seated, and the hostess left them to peer over the menus, Bridget leaned closer to him and whispered, “Do you want me to tell you who is sitting where and with whom? I saw you straining to see if you can recognize anyone.”
Turner would’ve loved to, but tonight was about Bridget and not about his insatiable curiosity.
“Maybe next time. Tonight I have eyes only for you.”
That earned him a bright smile.
“In this case, how about you take me to the dance floor?”
Turner lifted the napkin off his knees, put it on the table, and pushed to his feet. “It would be my pleasure.” He offered Bridget a hand up.
