by I. T. Lucas
Old man walking as fast as he can while texting. Stop bugging me.
Amanda chuckled, but as she shifted her attention back to the rapidly filling classroom, her eyebrows dipped with worry. At this rate, Kian might not find an empty seat, let alone three, which might provide him with a perfect excuse to leave.
“Professor Dokani, I just wanted to tell you that I love your lectures,” called out a brave soul sitting in the first row.
Gutsy boy.
She smiled and gave him the thumbs-up.
The room, already one of the largest in the department at one hundred and fifty seats, was nearing full capacity. Amanda’s class, “Mind: The Final Frontier”, was quickly becoming a favorite of the student body. Not that she had any illusions as to why her class was so popular.
It wasn’t due to a sudden interest in the philosophy of neuroscience, or appreciation for the title’s reference to Star Trek. And sadly, it wasn’t due to her fascinating lectures or her amazing teaching skills either. No, the course’s popularity had mainly to do with her looks.
Owing to her exceptional hearing, Amanda couldn’t help but overhear her students’ murmurs; most of which were flattering, though some were not just rude but outright derogatory. She would’ve loved nothing more than to slap those boys around for talking like that about a woman, any woman. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. Not only would it get her fired from the university, but it would expose her supernatural hearing and uncommon strength.
Amanda sighed. Beauty wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. What most people didn’t realize was that it was both a gift and a curse. No one bothered to look past the cover to see what was on the inside.
Even Amanda herself hadn’t been immune. For most of her life she’d let this exquisite exterior define her, but lately it just wasn’t enough. She wished to be admired for her skill as a teacher, and not the looks her unique genetic heritage had bestowed upon her.
“Just look at her,” she heard one of the boys whisper. “She looks like something straight out of an anime illustrator’s fantasy.”
Nice. But although what he’d said was flattering, and not vulgar like some of the other comments she’d heard, Amanda had to disagree. Unlike the nearly naked anime beauties, she was dressed, modestly and impeccably.
Still, at the back of her mind, shoved into a hidden corner she managed to ignore most of the time, Amanda often felt like an anime character: an exaggerated exterior masking a hollow interior. But then she covered it up well, projecting a confident attitude and dressing the part.
This morning she’d taken particular care, choosing an outfit to best fit the role she was playing: a distinguished and respected professor, yet a hot one. The slim-fitting black trousers and blue silk blouse revealed very little skin, leaving the job of accentuating her figure to the exquisite cut of the luxurious fabrics.
Amanda didn’t own a single article of clothing that wasn’t a top designer label or cost less than most folks’ monthly mortgage payments. Not that she could afford that kind of stuff on a professor’s pay; that wouldn’t have covered her shoe budget alone. But her shares in the clan’s extensive holdings ensured she could buy whatever struck her fancy without ever needing to work for it.
The research she was conducting had a higher purpose than earning her income or even prestige.
Still, she liked feeling important for a change. And besides delighting in her students’ reactions—amusing and thrilling as they were—she had to admit that she truly enjoyed teaching and was surprisingly good at it.
With a thinly veiled smirk, Amanda watched the young men—some freezing in place, awestruck as they stared at her, others tripping over their own feet as they tried to find a seat without taking their eyes off her.
Some tall, some short, some pale, some dark. Most were average-looking. A few were worth a second glance.
Yummy, so many to choose from.
She loved their attention, their lust. Drinking it in, Amanda was in her element: the hunter in a field of ogling prey.
Mortals, with their weak, malleable minds, were easily snared, their memories of the hook-ups easily erased, and the men themselves just as easily forgotten.
Regrettably, it was a modus operandi for her kind.
Repeatedly thralling partners messed with their brains, while hiding her true nature for extended periods of time was tiresome and carried the risk of exposure.
Long-term relationships were simply impossible.
Those of her kin who’d tried had gotten burned; most figuratively, some literally.
Case in point; the witch hunts.
In days past, a woman like her might have been called a femme fatale, a succubus, or even a vamp. Nowadays, there was a new term, cougar, which she liked better. It didn’t carry such negative connotation and was, in fact, closer to the truth.
Not that anyone would dare think of her as an older woman. Amanda shuddered at the thought.
She was a beautiful, young female.
Her fake birth certificate stated that she was born on the sixth of May, 1984. It got the sixth of May right, but the actual year of her birth was 1773.
Amanda was over two hundred years old.
The funny thing was, for a near-immortal she truly was young. Kian was four years shy of two thousand—the old goat. Compared to the life spans of mortals, though…
Well, what they didn’t know didn’t hurt them. She was what she was—what biology and her kin’s traditions made her—a lustful, hedonistic, near-immortal.
Amanda liked who she was, and she loved her life. Most of it anyway.
At last, as the classroom began to settle down, she spotted Kian, flanked by his trusted sidekicks—number one and number two as she nicknamed Brundar and Anandur. The three headed for the back row, where seats immediately became available, vacated by their occupants who scurried to find a place elsewhere.
Good.
Amanda would never admit it, but Kian’s approval meant a lot to her. Being that much older, he fulfilled both the roles of the father she’d never had and a big brother.
Lately, the clan’s holdings were increasing at a staggering pace, and managing their family’s extensive affairs was taking up most of Kian’s waking time. It had taken relentless nagging to pry him away for a couple of hours to come see his baby sister teach.
Chapter 3: Kian
Kian was taken by surprise when the lecture reached its end with a lively discussion concerning free will. Enchanted by Amanda’s rendition of the mysterious nature of consciousness and the brain’s uncharted neural pathways, he had lost track of time just like the rest of her students. Even Brundar and Anandur, who’d expected to be bored out of their minds, had been listening—riveted throughout the entire class.
“It’s time to go,” Kian whispered, motioning for them to follow as he pushed to his feet. Leaving Amanda’s mesmerized audience behind, they sneaked out of the lecture hall unnoticed, which in itself served as another testament to her skill. More often than not, the three of them attracted a lot of unwanted attention; be it admiration from females, or apprehension from males.
Then again, establishing their headquarters in a big city that was home to the film and music industry had its perks. On the streets of Los Angeles—with all of its actors, musicians, and wannabes of the same—a bunch of tall, good-looking men wasn’t an unusual sight.
Once outside, Kian squinted at the glaring sun and pulled on his custom-made, heavy-duty sunglasses. Unlike his native Scotland, it rarely got cloudy enough here for him to forgo the shades. And at this time of year in particular, the bright orb’s glare was brutal on his over-sensitive eyes.
Not that it got significantly better during what passed for winter in Southern California.
Pulling up to the curb, his black SUV with its dark-tinted windows attracted the interest of the few people on the street. Thankfully, no one lingered to gawk.
“She’s really good. Even I got it,” Anandur remarked as he opened the passenger door
for Kian.
With a slight nod, Brundar seconded his brother’s opinion.
“I still hate the idea of her being so publicly exposed. It’s risky. All it will take is for some nosy reporter to go digging into her fake dossier, and all hell will break loose.” His temper on the rise, Kian slammed the SUV’s door.
He had to admit, though, Amanda had had her students spellbound. Some of it was no doubt due to her beauty, and some due to her special ability to influence. But as he was immune to both and had still found the lecture fascinating, he had to give her the credit she was due.
“Where to, Master?” his driver asked, easing into traffic.
“We are having lunch at Gino’s.”
Mindful of the amount of work still waiting for him, Kian pulled out his phone and began scrolling through the avalanche of emails and texts that had managed to accumulate during the two-hour class. He’d barely gotten through a fraction of them when his driver parked the SUV in front of Amanda’s favorite place for lunch.
Gino’s was a short drive away from campus, close enough for her to grab a quick bite to eat during her lunch break, but too far for her students to get there on foot. Which meant the risk of her bumping into one of them was low. She’d discovered it two years ago when she’d gotten her first job at the university.
A generous grant provided by one of the clan’s subsidiary corporations ensured Amanda had free rein to test her ideas. But even though Kian was funding her research, he didn’t put much stock in her achieving her main objective. His reasoning was that even if Amanda failed to find anything useful for the clan, her research could potentially benefit humanity, which, of course, was the ultimate goal and justified the substantial monetary investment.
“Is it we, as in you and Amanda, or are we invited as well?” Anandur asked as they stepped out of the vehicle.
“No. I will have you guys stand sentry, salivating while Amanda and I eat. This is not the Middle Ages, and I didn’t do so even then. Really, Andu, sometimes I wonder if it’s part of your act or are you really that thick.”
Brundar chuckled, a jab directed at his obnoxious brother never failing to bring a rare smile to his austere face.
“What I mean, ladies… are we all sitting together as one big happy family, auntie and uncle with their beloved nephews? Or Amanda and you upstairs, while we guard from a safe distance—out of hearing range—downstairs?” Anandur arched both of his bushy red brows.
“I don’t know. It’s up to Amanda. I’m not sure what she has in mind.” Kian frowned, remembering she’d mentioned that there was something she wanted to talk to him about.
“Aha, you don’t know. So I’m not so thick, am I?” Anandur smirked.
Kian shook his head but smiled despite himself. Anandur liked to act the big brainless oaf. At almost six and a half feet tall and about two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, he looked like a pro wrestler. Add to that a head full of crinkly red hair, a bushy red beard and mustache, and he could play an extra in a Viking movie.
In contrast, Brundar looked almost feminine. A little over six feet, he wasn’t short, but his lean build, pretty angelic face, and his choice of hairstyle—keeping his pale blond stick-straight mane so long it reached the small of his back even when bound with twine—made him look delicate. Metrosexual.
Their appearances couldn’t have been more misleading. Of the two, Brundar was the deadlier force—cold, calculated, and skilled. A true master.
Anandur’s reliance on his brute strength, though, didn’t mean that he could be easily fooled or manipulated. He was a keen observer, capable of quick and accurate assessments of sticky situations, never acting on impulse. The big oaf act fooled his opponents into underestimating him, which naturally was the whole point.
Together the brothers, who’d been serving as his bodyguards for centuries, were deadly to anyone posing a threat to Kian or the clan.
As expected, Gino’s was packed with customers waiting in line on the sidewalk to be seated. The few round bistro tables on its narrow veranda were all taken; some by young mothers with their strollers blocking whatever little space remained, and others by business types from the nearby offices.
Bypassing the crowd, Kian took the worn stairs leading directly from the back entrance up to what Gino called his VIP section. It was a small room on the second floor reserved for his special guests—those who for various reasons didn’t want to mingle with the rest of the clientele, or members of his large, extended family.
The room looked like an old lady’s parlor. Old-fashioned wallpaper in green and yellow hues covered walls which were decorated with the fading portraits of stern matriarchs and patriarchs posing in their Sunday best—their disapproving expressions staring from their frames. Six upholstered chairs surrounded a round dining table in the center, and the serve ware came from a peeling sideboard laboring under the weight of piles of china.
Looking at it, Kian imagined that one of these days the thing would collapse, and Gino’s heirloom collection would be history. But each time he’d mentioned it, Gino had just smiled, saying not to worry; his grandmother’s sideboard had held for the past fifty years and would keep on holding for at least that many more.
With another glance at the wood’s widening cracks, Kian shrugged and sat down. He would hate to tell the guy; I told you so, when it eventually fell apart.
As he peered at the street through the open French doors that led to the tiny balcony overlooking the front, the lacy curtains fluttered in the light, warm breeze.
Feeling his tension ease, Kian realized he liked it here. It was cozy and intimate, despite the tacky decor, or perhaps owing to it.
Chapter 4: Anandur
“Hey, Gino!” Anandur waved the proprietor over. “How are you doing, buddy? Life treating you well?”
“Can’t complain. Business is doing good, the family is good, so I’m good. Eh? What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
For some reason, Gino was always nervous around them, despite the fact that since Amanda had gotten the job at the university, they were eating here at least twice a month and leaving extravagant tips. Anandur had often wondered if it was the small guy’s instinctive wariness of men their size, or Gino suspecting them of being Mafia goons.
Calling Kian boss certainly didn’t help matters. But what the heck, Anandur liked messing with the old man.
“The boss is upstairs. Could you please set us a table down here next to the stairs?” Anandur leaned down to Gino’s ear. “We need to watch both entrances. If you know what I mean,” he whispered, pausing for effect. “Oh, and the lady is going to join him shortly, so it will be two upstairs and two downstairs for lunch today.”
“The lovely Ms. Amanda?” the small man breathed, wiping his spotless hands on his pristine apron, his mostly bald head glistening with perspiration.
“The one and only.” Anandur chuckled. “And speaking of the devil, here she is in person, the beautiful Dr. Amanda Dokani.” He pointed at the front door.
“Hi, boys!” Amanda sauntered into the restaurant, causing a momentary halt in the chatter. She hugged Brundar, then stretching to reach, kissed Anandur’s cheek. “Kian is upstairs?”
“Yep, he is waiting for you. But before you go, I just wanted to say, you totally rocked today!” Anandur high-fived her. “I didn’t snooze even once.” He pulled her into a hug.
“Congratulations on the promotion,” Brundar added, for once not skimping on words.
Gino was still wiping his hands, waiting for her to acknowledge him.
Amanda turned, flashing him her megawatt smile. “Gino! Sweetheart!” She leaned to give him a hug.
“Bellissima!” He blushed the color of beets, returning the hug and planting a kiss on each of her cheeks. “So happy to see you again.”
“You always brighten my day, Gino. The way you say bellissima… Makes a girl swoon. Be a darling and bring me my wine upstairs? I’m in the mood to celebrate. You still stock it, I hope?”
“I keep it just for you, bellissima!” He beamed.
Amanda’s favorite wine, a 2005 Angelus, was too rich for Gino’s regulars, but he always kept a bottle just for her. Excusing himself, Gino scurried to the kitchen to fish out the bottle he was hiding behind the onions in the pantry. The unmistakable scent always clung to the bottle, and Anandur wondered if Amanda could smell it as well. Female immortals’ sense of smell wasn’t as acute as that of the males, but still, this one was quite pungent.
Starting up, Amanda paused mid-stair. “Aren’t you coming?” She arched her brows.
“Sorry, princess, we are on guard duty, keeping an eye out from down here. The two of you together in public always makes me twitchy.” Anandur waved her off and dragged a chair to the small table the waiter had placed near the stairs.
“As you wish.” Amanda shrugged and kept climbing.
Chapter 5: Amanda
Amanda wasn’t about to argue. The conversation she was planning to have with her brother required privacy.
Argh, he is going to fume and rant, she cringed.
For a good guy, he sure had a very short fuse. But this needed to be done, and giving up was not an option.
The future of their clan depended on it.
“I’m so proud of you!” Kian got up and pulled her into a hug.
“It’s about time someone was!” Lingering in the comfort of Kian’s warm embrace, Amanda sniffled, blinking back the tears that were threatening to ruin her carefully applied makeup. “The naughty party girl is finally making a contribution.” She chuckled.
Nine years ago, Amanda had decided to enroll in college, surprising everyone, most of all herself, with how brilliant she’d turned out to be. In just seven years, she’d earned a Ph.D. in the Philosophy of Neuroscience, and was now hailed as a new and fresh thinker, a leader in her field. Her papers were published in the most respected scientific journals.
“Oh, sweetheart, when you look ahead to a lifespan of thousands of years, two centuries of partying seem like nothing at all. And after the sorrow you had endured, you deserved all the joy you could find.”
