by I. T. Lucas
She hadn’t thought of that, but a day or two of paid vacation would be a nice thank-you gesture Jackson would, hopefully, appreciate.
As it turned out, Jackson was more than happy to babysit again.
“Go and have fun at your pajama party.” He patted her shoulder, took another look at what she was wearing, and burst out laughing. Again. Vlad giggled like a girl. “I just can’t help it. It’s adorable…”
Last year, she’d bought the fuzzy-bunny onesie as a costume to entertain the little trick-or-treaters on Halloween. It was pink in the back, with a little flap that closed with two large buttons, a white, fuzzy tummy, and a hoodie with fluffy ears.
The girls were going to love it.
She rolled her eyes, kissed her father’s leathery cheek, and waved goodbye to Jackson.
As Vlad followed her with a pile of cardboard boxes filled with fresh pastries, Nathalie wondered if Andrew’s reaction would be the same as that of her two helpers.
Coming straight from work, he was waiting outside to pick her up. They were going in one car so she could drive him home in case he got drunk tonight.
She shouldn’t have been surprised at his reaction. It was typical Andrew.
“Well hello, my sexy bunny, this outfit gives me such wicked ideas.” He waggled his brows as he leaned to kiss her, ignoring Vlad’s giggling.
“I can wear a potato sack and it will give you ideas.” She laughed as he opened the car door for her.
After loading the boxes into the trunk, Vlad said goodbye and hopped like a rabbit back to the shop. She couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up. The kid looked more like a kangaroo than a rabbit.
A very skinny, very tall, chain-wearing, goth looking, kangaroo.
When they reached the keep, Andrew helped Nathalie carry the boxes up to the forty-eighth floor. He put them down by the door, and they parted ways, but not before he showed her exactly what he had in mind for later.
Leaving her to catch her breath before facing the loud crowd inside, Andrew got into the elevator heading down to the catacombs. As a somber reminder that their victory hadn’t been without bloodshed, Kian was holding a ceremony for the fallen enemy before the party.
Nathalie rang the bell, and as Amanda opened the door, her lips lifted in a big smile. “Is it Easter? And what treats did the bunny get us?”
“Check it out yourself.”
Amanda winked. “Oh, you bet I will.” She bent her knees and lifted the pile of boxes all by herself. “Come on, hop inside.”
Enviable. It wasn’t that the boxes were extremely heavy, but there were a lot of them. Amanda was not only incredibly strong, but her arms were really long compared to Nathalie’s. She was also half a foot taller, several pounds thinner, and definitely prettier.
Oh, well.
Nathalie scanned the packed living room for Tiffany. Between the humans and immortals, there must’ve been about forty females crowded inside, with some mingling in the kitchen. They were all wearing some type of sleepwear, most of which Nathalie recognized as things she’d picked up for them last night.
It had taken her two more rounds before she found Tiffany, and that was only because one of the others had called her name. The girl looked nothing like what she used to when she’d worked for Nathalie.
At least ten pounds heavier, which filled up her curves and eliminated the gaunt, hollow look her face used to have, she looked beautiful. Her hair was highlighted and cut in fashionable layers, but most notably, it was clean and not oily.
A wave of guilt washed over Nathalie. The supposedly evil Doomers had taken better care of the girl than she had. Instead of buying Tiffany’s story about watching her weight, she should’ve insisted that the girl ate. Looking at her now, it was obvious to Nathalie that Tiff refused the food out of some misplaced sense of pride and not because she thought stick-thin was a good look for her.
If Papi’s faculties had been intact, he would’ve noticed and would’ve fed the girl. But Nathalie lacked her father’s natural charm and his talent for getting people to open up to him. She was always too rushed, too busy, and, until recently, too tired.
God, she missed the man her father used to be.
Wending her way toward Tiffany, Nathalie forced her eyes to stop tearing and put a big smile on her face.
The costume must’ve confused the girl, or perhaps the thralling she’d been subjected to had messed up with her memory, because even though she was looking straight at Nathalie, there was no sign of recognition in her eyes.
Nathalie pushed the hoodie down. “Hi, Tiffany, remember me?”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Nathalie? What are you doing here?” She jumped up and hugged her.
As Nathalie held on to the girl, tears started cascading down her cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re okay. I was so worried.”
Tiffany lifted her head, a puzzled expression on her face. “Why?”
Nathalie was about to answer when she noticed Amanda shaking her head and mouthing no.
What the hell had they been telling these girls about their captivity? Had they already thralled them with the story they’d prepared?
She should’ve asked Amanda, but it just hadn’t crossed her mind that there was a need. “Hmm, I don’t know. I just haven’t heard from you and didn’t know how you were doing.”
Tiffany tilted her head. “So why are you crying?”
Because you’re alive and going to be okay thanks to these kind immortals.
“I just missed you, that’s all.”
Chapter 33: Kian
“Why the hell do you want us to assemble in the catacombs?” Anandur grimaced. “I had enough of that depressing place yesterday, going back and forth with the bagged Doomers. It gives me the creeps, thinking how many undead we have in storage. I don’t want to be there for even a minute longer than absolutely necessary.”
Neither did Kian, but it had to be done.
Last night, when he’d planned today’s celebration, he’d realized that he couldn’t do it in good conscience without performing a service for the fucking Doomers first.
Kian shook his head. Annani and her bleeding-heart rhetoric must’ve rubbed off on him.
His mother was a bad influence.
First, it had been Syssi, all sad and teary because of the lives that had been lost, regardless of the fact that these lives belonged to scum that had wanted her dead. Then, her response had gotten him thinking about his mother, and how furious Annani was going to be when she found out that they had gone out on a mission without telling her. There would be hell to pay and it would come out of Kian’s hide.
As it turned out, though, the carnage hadn’t been as bad as he’d hoped it would be, and most of the Doomers were undead rather than dead for good, which would no doubt make Annani happy.
And yet here he was, adamant about giving a prayer for the few that had died because it was the decent thing to do. And he was a decent guy, goddamn it. Even if sometimes he didn’t feel like one.
Kian raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not ecstatic about it either. But it feels wrong to celebrate without sending off the dead on their final journey with a few words first.”
Anandur let his head drop and shook it from side to side. “You never cease to surprise me, Kian. A couple of months ago, you would’ve chewed the head off anyone who dared suggest it. What happened to you? Is it Syssi? Is she turning you into a pussy?”
Kian flicked the back of Anandur’s head. “Watch it! What did I tell you about referring to her with anything other than utmost respect?”
“Sorry. I love her—” He winced when Kian lifted his hand again. “Like a sister, you moron. She is wonderful and kind and sweet. But you have to admit that she is making you soft.”
It irked, but Anandur was right.
Except, Kian was tired of the anger and of using it as both a shield and a weapon. Syssi was like a balm on his frayed nerves, rounding his hard edges, filing away some of the abrasiveness.
>
Lately, Kian had been able to summon compassion where there had been none before, and even patience on occasion, but that was a good thing. He liked himself just a tad better this way.
“Is it so bad, Andu? Frankly, I’m tired of being a monumental asshole.”
Anandur chuckled. “Part of the job, buddy. You’re not the head of a reading club. You’re the commander in chief of the clan. You’re supposed to be a giant prick.”
Brundar made a sound that resembled a snort, but Kian couldn’t be sure. When he glanced at him, the guy’s expression was as somber as always. Anandur, on the other hand, seemed all too satisfied with himself.
Kian slapped Anandur’s back hard enough to send the big oaf tumbling forward. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your pep talks.”
“You’re welcome,” Anandur gritted out.
Kian and the brothers were the last to arrive at the big central chamber of the catacombs. Everyone was waiting for them, and by the Guardians’ expressions most of them shared Anandur’s sentiment. They seemed eager for Kian to be done with what they must’ve considered an unnecessary hurdle on their way to party time; i.e. getting shit-faced drunk.
Shai made a little podium for himself from two wooden crates, and was ready with a camera mounted on a tripod to film the ceremony.
Anandur put two fingers between his lips and whistled, bringing everyone’s attention to Kian. When the rowdy bunch hushed down, he bowed to him. “The stage is yours, Regent.”
Kian’s finger twitched to flip Anandur off, but this was a somber occasion and he was here in an official capacity. “We are here to pray for the souls of the dead and those who remain in a suspended state until such time in the future when they are deemed salvageable.”
A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd of Guardians, some agreeing and some sneering. Kian ignored both.
Having only a dim idea of what he was going to say, Kian hadn’t prepared a speech. He needed to say something positive about a hated enemy, and it wasn’t easy. What good can be said about monsters?
For starters, he had two examples of Doomers who weren’t pure evil. Dalhu and the guy who’d helped Carol. This meant that not all of them had lost their souls, which meant that once upon a time, before Navuh’s machine had ground them to dust in order to reshape them into what he wanted them to be, Doomers’ souls had been the same as everyone else’s; some good, some not so good, and most somewhere in the middle.
“These Doomers weren’t born evil, because all children are born pure. In some rare cases, faulty brain chemistry turns these pure souls into monsters, in others, like in the Doomers’ case, it’s hateful, relentless brainwashing. I pray that in the afterlife their souls will shed the layer of evil that has been forced onto them and reclaim their original purity.”
Anandur was the first one to pound his chest with his fist, then Brundar, then Bhathian, and soon the chamber exploded with the sounds of fists pounding on burly chests, the noise magnified and amplified by the echoing stone walls.
Kian waited until the chamber quieted. “Okay, people, time to celebrate! Follow me!”
As the noise level rose all over again, this time with cheers and hoots, Kian winced, wishing he’d thought to equip himself with earplugs.
It had been a long time since he had that many Guardians with him. Come to think of it, he’d never had that many. People had joined and people had left, but this had been the first time the majority of all Guardians had come out of retirement to help rescue a female who had ended up rescuing herself.
Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d been helped by a Doomer. Kian couldn’t believe he was thinking it, but he regretted the guy’s decision not to cross over to the clan. He would’ve loved for Vanessa to analyze both Dalhu and Robert to see what made them different. How they had managed to resist the brainwashing and retain some decency.
Amanda claimed that Dalhu was different because he’d been raised by a loving mother until he’d been taken away. She believed that the memory of that love was what kept his soul from shriveling.
Did Carol’s rescuer share the same story?
It would’ve been interesting to investigate this theory.
As they reached the gym, Kian sat aside his musings for later.
It was time to celebrate the clan’s victory with shitloads of Snake’s Venom and whiskey. He’d had Okidu and Onidu whip up a feast, which they managed beautifully on such short notice. Syssi had helped, arranging the rental and delivery of folding tables and chairs to accommodate all the Guardians.
The tables were covered with white tablecloths and set with disposable plates, glasses, cutlery, and everything else. Shai had brought a microphone and a karaoke machine loaded with old Scottish songs. Kian wondered where he’d found music that was several hundred years old, and if he could download it for him to listen to later. It would be fun singing along, but not in public.
Perhaps in the shower…
Tomorrow, most of the Guardians were leaving. Only five had decided to stay and join the force. A shame, really, he’d hoped more would stay. But at least the rest had agreed to the reserves program. It felt good to know that he had an army at his disposal in case he needed one. Those returning to Scotland had promised to keep up their training, and the few who lived in Los Angeles would be coming to train at the keep.
“Hey! Anandur!” Arwel called, lifting his bottle of Snake’s Venom in a sloppy salute, his words already slurring. “Are you going to do a striptease for us tonight?”
Onegus slapped him over the head. “You bloody drunkard. You had to remind him? Once was enough for a lifetime.”
Arwel ducked a safe distance away from Onegus and climbed on a chair. “Who wants to see Anandur strip? Say, aye!”
Between chuckles and hoots some shouted, “Aye!”
Anandur shook his head. “I’m only stripping for bachelor parties. So if you guys want to see the show, you’ll have to come back for Andrew’s.” He grabbed Andrew and pushed him in front of him like a shield.
Someone started a chant. “Strip! Strip! Strip!”
Anandur shouted back. “Not going to happen!” Snatching a bun from the bread basket, he chucked it at Raibert, who’d been the one who had started it, hitting him smack in the face. Raibert picked it up from where it landed on the floor and chucked it back. The chanting immediately switched from “Strip! Strip! Strip!” To “Food fight! Food fight! Food fight!”
Kian rolled his eyes. Here goes the party…
Chapter 34: Andrew
“Tell me again why Syssi invited us tonight?” Andrew really wasn’t up for socializing, not even with his sister. He was still hungover from last night’s celebration. Nursing a pounding headache throughout his workday, he’d been dreaming of the moment he could get to Nathalie’s and fall asleep on her couch. Not very romantic, true, but he was exhausted.
Between the stress of the mission and the crazy party the following night, he hadn’t had time to recuperate.
This experience had really driven home the difference between him and the immortals. Without even taking an active part in the fighting, Andrew still felt like the walking dead, while Kian, who’d had regrown a chunk of missing flesh, was back in full operational mode.
“Just a little get-together. Amanda and Dalhu, Bhathian, maybe a few others. I don’t know.”
Nathalie was such a bad liar that he would’ve known she was lying even without his gift. What puzzled him, though, was why she kept at it even though she knew perfectly well that it was futile.
Whatever, he’d play along. The less talking he did, the less his head hurt. He’d show up, stay for half an hour, then excuse himself and take Nathalie home.
She cast him a worried glance. Unfortunately, though, her eyes showed no guilt about forcing him to go. “Maybe you should take some Motrin. You look like you’re suffering.”
He rubbed his temples with his thumbs. “Good idea. Though I took some this morning and
they didn’t do shit for my headache.”
“Get in the shower, and I’ll make you a fresh cup of coffee for when you’re done.”
Bossy woman.
Still, a shower might help.
Standing under a scalding stream, he let it pound his head until the hot water ran out, and when he was done, Nathalie handed him a big cup of black coffee together with four Motrins.
Twenty minutes later, Andrew felt a little better about getting in the car and driving to the keep.
“I can’t wait to see their penthouse,” Nathalie said as he parked the car in the same spot he had parked it the other day. Except, this time they were going straight up, instead of down and through the tunnel to the other building. A good thing, since Nathalie was wearing a pair of killer heels.
When they got into the elevator, he glanced at her feet again. “Why are you wearing these shoes? They look like torture devices.”
She smirked. “Because they make my legs and my butt look awesome.” She turned around to show him.
The woman was playing with fire. Naturally, he had to grab that amazing ass and squeeze.
Nathalie surprised him when she leaned into his hands, letting him play a little longer. “Remember the epic blow job I gave you the other night?”
He looked at her through the mirror, leering like the dirty old man he was. “Baby, that was unforgettable.”
She winked and pursed her fleshy lips. “Tonight, I’m going to give you one that’s going to be even better.”
Andrew groaned. He was wearing slacks, which meant that he was about to enter Syssi and Kian’s place with a huge tent in his pants. “I’m going to hold you to your promise. But for now, please, no more talk about blowjobs or anything sexy. I have a problem down here.”
Nathalie glanced behind her with a devilish smile on her face. “You should button up your jacket to hide this flag pole.”
Yeah, like he hadn’t thought of this brilliant solution himself.
The door swished open, and they exited into the penthouse level’s vestibule. The vase on top of the round stone table had a fresh flower arrangement, and Andrew wondered who and how had gotten it there so quickly. They had just moved back.
