by S. E. Babin
Considering we’d both agreed to remain friends, this was disconcerting indeed. There were plenty of men around the compound, but almost all of them were so freaked out by the fact that Sherlock was my father, not a single one would say more than hello to me.
Trying to find a normal boyfriend was pretty much out of the question. I couldn’t very well build a relationship hiding a secret the size of the Titanic, now could I?
Ignoring Masters request, I started piling bacon into my mouth and raised my coffee cup at him in thanks. He gave me one last lingering glance and shook his head in disappointment. But he did get up from the chair and leave me in peace.
It was the little things, really.
I ate breakfast like a starving man and sipped the rest of my coffee in the quiet. The compound was a loud place to be during the week, but on the weekends, you rarely heard anything. Since my arrival, my father loosened up the travel policies, so most of the people left on the weekends to enjoy all the delights Austin had to offer.
It was kind of nice, actually. I was so used to getting swept up in a swarm of people, being able to sit here and enjoy my food in semi-quiet was pretty cool. I realized I’d missed it during the time I’d been here. Ever since I stepped foot into this place, it was one thing after another and I kept on almost dying.
Almost dying wasn’t nearly as good as not dying.
So, now I was a little bit different. And I couldn’t tell whether it was a good or bad thing yet. So far, the changes were…weird, but they weren’t anything I couldn’t eventually live with.
I tossed down the second piece of bacon. Masters was right. I needed to talk to my father, and more than at the appointed once a month checkup time. He did what he had to do to save my life and even though I thought he should have let me go, I had to put myself in his shoes for a moment and think about what I might have done in his place to save someone I cared about.
I would have probably done the same thing.
I took a long swig of orange juice, grimaced as the acidity hit my still queasy stomach, and stood to go find my father.
I headed straight to his favorite room and right past that weird ass silver machine no one wanted to tell me about. I shook my head and made a mental note to sneak out of my room soon and do some spying. There were cameras all over this place, but I’d been here long enough and had enough access—thanks to Watson’s keycard he had yet to ask back for—that I knew where all the blind spots were in the surveillance. I stood in front of the old wooden door and raised my hand to knock.
The door swung open before my knuckles could touch the mahogany.
Surveillance – 1.
Penelope – 0.
My father studied me with a suspiciously blank look on his face. I stepped into the room and it felt like I’d stepped back in time. Wood lined the floors, shelves, and ceilings. Lingering pipe smoke permeated the furniture, but I never thought it was an unpleasant smell. I stood behind two of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Father,” I acknowledged.
Something like hurt flickered before his eyes as he motioned for me to sit.
I settled myself into the deep, comfortable leather chair.
“What a pleasant surprise,” my father said.
I raised one eyebrow. It wasn’t a surprise at all. In fact, I didn’t think my father had ever been surprised. I didn’t force him to examine his awkward comment, though. He was as nervous as I was.
“I’m here about my metabolism,” I told him, hoping to come right to the heart of the matter and avoid delving too deep into any personal things. The situation would devolve if we started to talk about our feelings. We’d been through a lot together, but I still didn’t think we were at the point where I’d cry on his shoulders about my boyfriend being mean to me or anything like that.
My father steepled his fingers, a gesture I’d come to recognize was all him—or all Sherlock, I supposed. It meant he was, first of all, thinking about my question, second, seeing if he could avoid my question, and third, scrambling to come up with an answer that wouldn’t infuriate me.
I sighed and turned to go.
“Penelope!” my father barked.
I started. He wasn’t the kind of man who yelled.
His hands fell back to his desk. “Please, just…sit. Sit down and let’s talk.”
I made no move.
“Please,” he implored.
His green eyes were as brilliant as heated glass as I slowly sank back into the chair and waited.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
I remained silent.
“With all the skills of a ninja.”
I snorted. I loved ninja analogies. “Avoidance ninja,” I said grudgingly. “I like that title.”
“Yes, well, being good at avoidance is something you especially excel at.”
He scrubbed a hand through his dusty hair, making it stand up in wild spikes. My father, handsome though he may be, always looked like a confused rooster when he did that.
I swallowed down the grin at that thought and waited for him to continue speaking.
“I wanted you to know I never meant for any of this to happen.”
So. Many. Things. I wanted to say. Didn’t mean for me to come here and get caught up in his entanglements? Lie. Didn’t mean for me to almost die? Probable lie, although I gave him enough credit not to wish actual death on me. Or didn’t mean to change me into…whatever this was?
“Any of this?” I said shortly as I pulled the ridiculous length of my hair around to show him. “I have to cut my hair every three days.” I leaned closer. “My eyes look like I should be on the cover of a sci-fi novel and possibly covered in scales. And I cannot drink or…” I paused and bit my lip. I did not want to tell my father I couldn’t handle being around weed without acting like I’d been on a three-day bender. Some things you should never discuss with parents—sex and illegal drug use. And, in my case, illegal drug use during a time you weren’t supposed to be time traveling.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. I did what I did to save your life.”
As much as I wanted to believe him, my mother’s words carried back to me. Sherlock was the kind of person who would do anything in the name of research or power. While I did believe he cared for me, since he’d saved my life, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done it for me or to see what happened. Probably both, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would admit it.
“But why?” I scooted my chair closer to his desk. “I had the chance to be free. The chance to die.”
Anger flashed in his emerald gaze. “To die?” he asked is disbelief. “You wanted me to let you die?”
I shrugged. “You trapped me with immortality. Is it so bad to want to let that go?”
He snorted. “You’re twenty-five, Penelope. No one wants to let go at that age.”
“No one else is immortal.” I hadn’t wanted to die, but a part of me wondered whether that opportunity was given to me to take and would never return again. Not that I could never die. If the circumstances were violent enough, or, heaven forbid, Aaron showed back up to drain me of my blood again, it could happen, but I would never perish of illness or even anything major. Basically, anything short of beheading I could recover from.
He sat back in his chair and glared. “I will never let you die.”
“And that’s the problem,” I said.
My father slammed his hand down on his desk sharp enough to send a resounding crack throughout the room. Papers scattered and fell to the floor, but I dared not betray any emotion.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Just a father. That’s all. I just want you to be my dad.” I stood. “Maybe we can talk about this some other time.”
He looked like he’d been slapped. Disbelief warred with anger and confusion before his expression finally settled into something almost resembling hope. “Penelope,” he said, his tone softer now, “please…stay.”
&n
bsp; I sighed and toyed with the ends of my hair. It had grown since breakfast time. “Why?” I asked, and even I could hear the suspicion in my tone.
“Because I want to answer your question.”
I didn’t believe him, but I sat down once again and waited.
“Your body is adapting to the restructuring I had to do. It’s only been a month. Within three to four months, I think all of the changes wrought should show themselves. Then,” he spread his hands out, “we will be better equipped to deal with everything. Right now, I know it’s difficult, especially when neither of us know what to expect.” He offered a chagrined smile. “However, the body is a resilient thing and can often adapt in incredible ways.”
“Am I fully immortal?”
My father chuckled. “I lean toward yes, but unless you want to undergo some very rigorous tests, I think we should use caution for now.”
His words made me think of the crash test dummies. I winced. “Heard and understood.”
“I think you should understand that right now I don’t really know what happened when I tried to save you. Aaron drained almost everything out of you, but it was serum mixed with blood and DNA. Your DNA was changed permanently before, but once the serum was gone, the immortality was too.” My father paused and I could see the string of thoughts he was trying to put together to explain what happened to me. “I think you’re more than immortal.” He tapped a finger rapidly on his desk. “I just don’t know how much more or how those changes will manifest.”
I tugged on a strand of hair.
A smile quirked one side of his mouth. “Except for what we can see with our own eyes.”
“I’ll let you know if anything weird happens.”
My father chuckled in amusement. “Something weird happens here every single day. Let me know if something unexplainable happens.”
“Unexplainable?” I repeated.
“As in you have no idea why or how something happened.” He leaned back in his chair and the wind of his movement shuffled some papers around on the disorganized desk. “We are both intelligent enough to see something strange and not question it because we know why it happened. But, as we’ve seen lately, many weird things can happen that cannot be logically explained through science or fact.” He sat up abruptly. “Those are the things I wish to know.”
What he said made sense and didn’t make sense. This happened every time I talked to him. “Okay,” I muttered. “Nice talk.” I stood once again, ready to get out of the room and back into my own quarters.
“I’m serious. The changes wrought in your body…I need to see them. I need to make sure you’re okay.” He paused and cleared his throat, as if he choked over his words. “As much as I owe you, I ask you grant me this request.”
I nodded once and let myself out of his office.
I walked down the quiet corridors, my thoughts full of the what ifs and the what could have beens. Yes, I could have died on that table, but I wouldn’t have been given another chance. No matter how strange this second chance was, I was still me…mostly. Just with much longer hair and freaky crystal eyes.
I sighed and snorted to myself. For the most part, I was still normal.
No thanks to Aaron.
I let myself in to my room and quietly shut the door behind me. I had no desire to go into town, plus I still had a bitching headache from the excesses of last night. I suspected if I were normal, I would still be in bed and possibly retching over the side of it into a bucket. I shoved off my sandals and readied myself to collapse face first into it and sleep a few more hours, but stopped abruptly as a beautiful woman sat perched on the edge of my bed, watching me with cool, wary gray eyes. I scrambled for my weapon, only to realize I was unarmed. I cursed under my breath at my predicament.
I stopped in my tracks and cursed as I realized I was completely unarmed.
A twitch of a smile formed on Cass’ face as she toyed with the weapon I’d kept stuffed under my pillow ever since Aaron betrayed me.
“Nice piece,” she said in a calm voice. “I didn’t realize you were a gun girl.”
I kept my tone steady as my mind worked in a million ways to figure out how to defend myself. She could shoot me right here, right now, if she wanted to and there wouldn’t be a darn thing I could do. But…I didn’t think she was here for that. She’d been my friend once, I guess. Or maybe I just hadn’t had enough friends in my life to recognize a true one. But, if I knew anything, I knew a true friend wouldn’t go out of their way to betray me, drug me, and leave me for dead in my father’s driveway.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I said after a moment.
She snorted. “Obviously.” Cass shoved the gun back under the pillow and a harsh breath fled out of me.
“Let me start with a lame apology,” she began as she motioned for me to sit down.
I shook my head once, crossed my arms, and leaned against the doorjamb.
She didn’t seem surprised by my stance. “Lila held my family. She used them against me. There was nothing I could do but submit to her whims.”
My mouth tightened in disapproval. “There’s always a choice.”
Cass sighed heavily. “My father is in a wheelchair, my mother has necessary medication, and my sister…” she snorted, “well, my sister is an idiot and has never been able to properly care for them.”
I waited.
“Lila killed their on-duty nurse and took my family to COTO.”
I briefly shut my eyes as pain crossed over her face.
“I helped Aaron, then went immediately back to COTO and broke them out. And then—”
“You disappeared with them,” I offered unhelpfully.
“I had to, Penelope.”
Silence fell in the room and I felt torn between her betrayal and what was once our budding friendship. “Is everyone okay?” I asked after a lengthy silence.
Grief spread over her face and etched in the lines I hadn’t noticed before. She shook her head once. “Lila deprived my mother of insulin. She died in my arms on the way to our safe house.”
I cursed under my breath. Such a simple thing. Such a simple med and Cass had nowhere to turn to get it. “I’m sorry, Cass.”
She gripped the edge of my blanket in her hand so hard, her knuckles went white. “We buried her in a field on the way. It wasn’t right, or fitting. But…” Cass took a ragged breath, “she was slowing us down.”
I flung away my doubts and went over to her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I pulled her closer to me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
As much as her betrayal of my confidence hurt, I knew the choice she had was one I hoped to never make. I would have done anything, gone to any lengths, if my mother had been taken. I could commiserate with Cass, even though I didn’t want to.
“I understand,” I said. And I did, as much as it pained me to admit it.
So we sat there, heads together, Cass drawing in ragged breaths and explaining the rest of her story to me. When she finished, I sat up. “Does my father know you’re here?”
She shook her head and I squelched down the admiration that she had the fortitude, intellect, and brass balls needed to break into Sherlock Holmes’ secret facility. We could do a lot worse with Cass on our side.
“Sherlock is going to be so pissed,” I said in wonder, and Cass and I snorted with laughter.
“Do you think he will allow me back in?”
If I knew my father like I thought I did, he’d grill her relentlessly, wonder about her abilities, and then admit her back in with open arms—and heavy surveillance.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said.
2
Chapter Two
I was hunched over a test tube when a hesitant voice softly spoke my name. Everyone knew how much I hated being interrupted when I was in the lab, so it must have been important. And if it weren’t important, I would ensure they knew how much I disliked it.
I carefully set the tube
back in its holder, put the metal tongs down, and flipped up my goggles to stare at the person who’d spoken. She was an average looking woman, with mousy brown hair that fell past her shoulders and an average rounded face. However, as unassuming as she was, her eyes were the brightest blue I’d ever seen in my life. It made her seem exotic. I wondered lamely if she had to wear contacts when she was out and about as well.
“Ms. Wilde?” the woman said again, this time in confusion.
I blinked and snapped out of my thoughts. “Yes?”
“My apologies for interrupting you, but Mr. Watson has requested your presence in the sparring room.”
Sending a withering glare her way, I snatched my tongs back up. “Tell Mr. Watson I have no desire to spar with him right now. I’m working.”
I slapped my goggles back down over my eyes, dismissing her.
She made no move to leave and I steadfastly ignored her until she cleared her throat. “Mr. Watson said you would say that.”
“And?” I clipped shortly.
“And he has a full lunch set up in the room and the need to speak with you urgently.”
“Lunch?” I asked.
Her eyes glittered with amusement. “Mr. Watson said to tell you if that were more important, you could eat first, but the urgency with which he seeks you should not be ignored.”
I sighed in annoyance. “All those pretty words he uses,” I muttered.
She gave me a stiff little bow and left the lab.
I tugged the goggles off and over my head and set the tools back down again. I carefully closed the lid on the tube box and made sure my gloves were securely fastened and whole before I picked it up. I was attempting to find a cure for Masters’ daughter. She suffered from Batten disease, a neurological disorder that often began in childhood and was unfortunately fatal. So far, I hadn’t had much luck, but I think that was because I flatly refused to use my father’s immortality serum—until the last couple days when I’d finally come to terms with the fact that it was possible there was no scientific cure, or at least one I could find, and started to reconsider my stance on it.
