by I. T. Lucas
“See if I care.” He flipped the lighter again and held it up for her. “Put just the tip to the flame and inhale. Don’t take it in too deep. You’ll choke.” He winked.
“Pervert.”
She followed his instructions and immediately started coughing. “This is horrible.”
“I told you not to inhale too deeply. You didn’t listen. Try it again and hold the smoke in your mouth. Don’t inhale at all.”
After two more drags, she dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. “Blah. It left a bad taste in my mouth.”
Donnie’s massive shoulders heaved with laughter.
“It’s not funny.” What a one-track mind. Were all guys like that?
She narrowed her eyes at him, her anger giving her courage. “Do you ever work or play downstairs?”
He shook his head. “Not in the way you think. Sometimes I help carry chairs and other furniture down there, but they have their own bouncers, or monitors as they call them.” He smirked. “Why? Are you curious?”
“Yes. But Brad won’t let me even take a peek. What do they do there that’s so bad?”
Donnie waggled his brows. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to see because what they do there is so good, eh?” He gently elbowed her side.
“If it is, why aren’t you there?”
“It’s not my thing. I’m as vanilla as they get, baby. Your boyfriend, however, has quite the reputation.”
“He is not my boyfriend.”
Donnie lifted a brow.
“He is a friend who happens to be a boy. Not the same. And what do you mean by reputation?”
Donnie shrugged. “He is very popular with the ladies. That’s all I know.”
Right. Donnie was a terrible liar.
“I know you know more. Spill.”
“And get in trouble with Brad? I like my face the way it is, and I like my job.”
Okay. She could understand that. Brundar was intimidating as hell. Though for a mountain of muscle like Donnie to fear him, he must’ve done more than glare.
“Is he violent? Did he ever get into a fight in the club?”
Donnie shook his head. “Not that I know of. He doesn’t need to get physical. He just needs to show up. You know what we call him behind his back?”
“What?”
“The Grim Reaper.”
She snorted. “He is too beautiful to be evil.”
Donnie crossed his arms over his chest. “The Grim Reaper is not evil. He just does his job. And he is God’s emissary, which means that he is an angel. And angels are supposed to be pretty.”
“When you put it like that… I guess. He might be a little intimidating, but he is a good man. He is helping me, a lot, and expects nothing in return.”
Donnie’s brow lifted. “You sure about that?”
“Well, yeah. You said it yourself.” She grimaced. “He is very popular with the ladies. He doesn’t need to go out of his way to get, you know… laid.”
Donnie remained silent for a few seconds, which wasn’t like him. The big guy was a chatter bug. Taking one drag from his cigarette after the other, he blew smoke out into the cold night air.
“He doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“What do you mean?” Callie didn’t notice Brundar looking at her at all. He’d been avoiding her as much as he could. He didn’t look at her even on their walks home.
“He sneaks peeks at you like some teenager with a crush. And when he sees guys ogling you, he treats them to his deadly stare. I haven’t seen him do that before. Until you came along, I thought he was made of granite. Like a statue or like that Edward guy from the vampire movie. Super pale face and all.” Donnie bent from his considerable height and whispered in her ear. “Maybe he is a vampire. Did you notice his canines? They are fucking huge.”
They were a little longer than usual, but a far cry from qualifying as fangs.
Callie patted Donnie’s arm. “You have one hell of an imagination.”
He shrugged. “Can you blame me? Most of the time I’m so bored standing here, that I count the bricks on the building across the street. I have lots of free time to think.”
“Why don’t you get another job, then?”
“Who says I don’t have one,” he said in a tone than implied it was something interesting.
“What is it?”
“I draw comics.” Donnie squared his big shoulders.
“Really? Which one?” No wonder he’d been telling her so much about them. He probably worked on one.
“Mine is not published yet. But it’s going to be. Guess who’s my superhero?”
“How would I know?”
“Your boyfriend. Bud, the slayer of rogue vampires.”
Callie put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “He’s going to kill you if he ever finds out.” She didn’t know Brundar well, but he seemed a very private person. Not the type who would appreciate starring in a comic.
Donnie put a finger to his lips. “If you don’t tell him, he never will.”
Chapter 33: Brundar
Edna sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I understand why you did it, Brundar. But the law is the law. However, given the mitigating circumstances, I can reduce the severity of your penance. One week of incarceration.”
Brundar shook his head. “I appreciate your leniency, but I can’t do jail time. We are short on Guardians as it is, and putting me away will put an extra strain on the others. Besides, I need to keep an eye on Calypso. I’ll take the whipping.”
Edna regarded him with her soul-probing eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”
He nodded.
“Are you a masochist?”
Interesting. It seemed the Alien Probe couldn’t read him as well as he thought she could. Good to know.
“No, I’m not.”
Her lips lifted in a smile. “Good. I wouldn’t want your punishment to be a reward.”
Damn rumors. “I know what they whisper behind my back and I don’t give a f… fig. I’m not looking forward to it, but I don’t tremble in my pants either.”
Her smile got wider. “I can’t see you trembling in your pants for any reason. You have the strongest hold on your emotions of anyone I know. And it’s more than skin deep.”
Brundar stifled a smirk. Edna wasn’t the all-powerful empath and soul searcher everyone thought she was because for the past two weeks his emotions had been all over the place. It was a daily struggle to drag himself back into the zone.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, though I’m not sure it’s a compliment.”
“For me it is.”
She nodded. “I bet. Back to the issue of your penance. Because you are a Guardian, only another Guardian can deliver it. But given the mitigating circumstances, I leave it up to you to choose which one. Also, I’ll keep it a private affair with only Kian and the Guardians present. The last thing we need is for a rumor to spread of a Guardian breaking the law.”
“Right. I appreciate it.” He would’ve hated a public whipping. On the other hand, it could’ve been beneficial to show that Guardians were not above the law and got punished for breaking it the same as any other clan member.
“Normally, I prefer to execute the sentence immediately, but I’m willing to accommodate you. When would you prefer it done?”
“Tomorrow night if it’s okay with you. I want to deliver the paper to Calypso’s husband personally and make sure he signs them.”
Edna tilted her head. “You know you’re compounding your punishment. That’s another violation to tag on.”
He shrugged. “I want to see this brought to a conclusion as soon as possible, and I’m willing to suffer the consequences. Well worth it for me.”
“You need his signature notarized. Are you going to drag a notary with you?”
He hadn’t thought of that. “If I must, I will.”
“You can use my secretary. She is human, but she knows not to ask questions.”
&n
bsp; “Good. And thank you.”
Edna opened a drawer and handed him a brown envelope. “Everything he needs to sign is in here.” She lifted her desk phone and pressed the intercom button. “Lora, could you please come in here? I have a short errand for you.”
“Of course.”
A moment later a rotund older woman entered Edna’s office.
“Lora, this is my cousin Brundar. He is a friend of the lady who I took on as the pro bono divorce case. I need you to go with him to the husband’s home and notarize his signature.”
Lora shifted from foot to foot. “Hmm, you said he is the violent type. Wouldn’t it be better to send a guy?”
Brundar rose to his feet. “That’s why I’m delivering the documents. You have nothing to worry about with me around.”
Lora looked him over. Once, then again. “You look like someone who can handle himself in a fistfight. But what if the guy has a weapon? A knife or a gun?”
“I’m trained to deal with situations like that. You’re perfectly safe.”
“Special Forces?”
“Yes. You’ll wait in my car until I’m sure he is going to behave. You’ll come in only when I call for you.”
Lora exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Okay. That I can do.”
He waited for her to get her briefcase, then escorted her out of Edna’s office and down to the parking garage of the high-rise.
“Thank you,” she smiled as he opened the passenger door for her, then huffed as she climbed up into the seat.
“That’s a big car you got,” she said as he got in. “Do you have a large family?”
“Huge.” He knew she was referring to a wife and kids and not to his extended family. But telling her that would have started another cascade of questions. Like how come he wasn’t married and what was he waiting for?
“I have five grown kids and eleven grandchildren.” She pulled out her phone and started showing him pictures.
Brundar pretended to glance at what she was showing him, nodding from time to time so as not to appear rude.
“My husband, may his soul rest in peace, he was the silent type too.”
Sure he was. With her talking nonstop, the guy hadn’t had a chance to stick a word in between.
“I didn’t mind.” She chuckled. “I talk a lot, as you surely noticed. So it was nice to have someone who was happy to just listen. I miss him dearly.” She wiped at her eyes.
Poor woman, she must’ve lost her husband recently. He should say something. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Lora waved a chubby hand. “Oh, my Larry, God bless his soul, has been gone for more than a decade now. He was a good husband and a good father. The kids and I miss him so.”
Surprisingly, Lora’s love for her dead husband tugged at Brundar’s heart. He’d witnessed his share of misery and loss, but he always managed to remain detached.
So why the hell had this story saddened him?
It wasn’t a bad story. Lora and her Larry had had a good life together, which was more than most people got.
Was it because Lora was sitting right next to him?
Was it because she was a nice woman who wore her emotions on her sleeve?
Or was it envy for her deceased husband?
She’d compared Brundar to her Larry, and it made him think. The guy had been dead for over a decade but was still loved by his wife and children. It was something Brundar couldn’t even imagine. He never thought of himself as worthy of love.
No, that wasn’t true.
As a boy he’d been loved and cherished by his mother, probably still was in some small way. But he’d lost the ability to feel that love.
He didn’t deserve it.
He’d been a foolish boy who should have listened to his elders instead of trusting the wrong people. He’d been so fucking naive.
Because of him, his family had suffered.
Chapter 34: Roni
Standing by the window, Roni looked out on the night cityscape visible from his building. Not much of a view. A row of office buildings, four to five stories high, one bench across the street with a poster of a smiling real estate agent glued to its back, two lampposts. He’d been staring at the same thing for way too long. And it seemed like he’d be staring at it for a whole while longer.
Fourth day since the bite and nothing. Roni sighed.
It had been a pleasant dream. Freedom, Sylvia, immortality. Maybe even good money so he could buy a car, a convertible, and go traveling.
With Sylvia, of course.
He’d leave the top down. Her hair blowing in the wind, she would be smiling the whole way. Maybe even singing.
Could she sing?
He didn’t know.
They would stop for the night at roadside motels and make love for hours, then in the morning get in the car and keep going.
A fantasy.
Turning away from the window, Roni walked over to the couch, grabbed a comic book off the coffee table and lay down. Barty had brought him a stack of them. The agent claimed that he’d found them while cleaning up the attic. Tucked away in a box that had been gathering dust and spider webs, they were beautifully preserved because Barty’s nephew had put each one in a plastic sleeve to protect them.
There must’ve been over a hundred of them, and Roni intended to read until his eyes got tired and he fell asleep. He needed to take his mind off what was not happening to him.
His eyes started drooping sooner than he’d expected. By the second comic his vision blurred and he had to close them. Maybe he needed reading glasses?
It was cold, and Roni covered himself with the throw blanket Barty’s wife had crocheted for him. She’d never met him, and yet she’d gifted him with something that must’ve taken her days or even weeks to make.
The handler and his wife acted more like parents to Roni than his real ones.
What if he was adopted?
Maybe that was why his parents didn’t care about him?
That would explain why he wasn’t transitioning even though his grandmother almost certainly was an immortal. Other than that the only indicator that he was a Dormant was the fact that Sylvia liked him. True, the odds that a hot girl like her would fall for a scrawny guy like him were slim, but women were strange that way. Maybe she was attracted to his brain.
Could happen. Like Stephen Hawking’s second wife. It wasn’t as if she’d left her husband and married the dude in the wheelchair, the one her poor shmuck of a husband had designed for Hawking, because the scientist was such a hunk or a charmer. The only thing the guy had going for him was his brain.
Damn, it was getting cold in his apartment.
Too lazy to go get another blanket, or drag his ass to bed, Roni tucked the throw tighter around him and pushed himself deeper into the couch, pressing his back against the cushions.
He was still cold.
Why was his apartment freezing? It was the middle of summer for fuck’s sake, and this was Los Angeles. Not a city known for its cool weather. Fucking climate change. It was supposed to be global warming, not cooling.
When the shivers started, Roni realized it wasn’t cold in his apartment, but that he must be sick and running a fever.
Wait a minute, Andrew had warned him that the first symptoms of transition were flue like.
Fucking hell. If he was transitioning, it meant that he wasn’t adopted, just not lovable enough for his parents to give a damn. True, his legal defense had ruined them financially, but weren’t parents supposed to love their kids no matter what?
He hadn’t killed anyone for God’s sake. And until his eighteenth birthday, his pay checks went straight to his parents' account. That should’ve compensated nicely for their losses.
They had been relieved when he moved out, taking his handler with him and giving them their lives back. In the beginning, they’d still called once or twice a week, visiting once or twice a month, but soon the phone calls and visits had dwindled down to once every few months.
Fuckers.
Not a nice thing to say about one’s parents, but they deserved it for abandoning him like that.
Whatever, he was getting a new family now.
Yeah. Like they were doing it out of love for him. The only reason the immortals were interested in him was his talent.
Did Sylvia really have feelings for him? Or was she bait to lure him in?
Paranoid much?
It was too late to start second guessing things now. He should call the front desk and tell them he wasn’t feeling well. For his extraction to work, he had to get transferred to a hospital.
With a shaking hand, Roni picked up the cordless and dialed zero for the internal switchboard.
“What’s up, Roni? Want us to order you pizza?”
He groaned. “Not this time. I’m sick. I need you guys to call a doctor or take me to the hospital.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I have a fever, and I shake all over. Please, hurry.” He made himself sound more pitiful than he really felt.
“I’m on it. Hold it together, kid. We will take care of you.”
“Thanks, man.”
Disconnecting the call, Roni slumped into the couch cushions. Hopefully, they would call Barty to come sit with him. Roni doubted they would allow him to use the hospital’s phone, while Barty wouldn’t mind calling Sylvia for him, which would start the ball rolling.
Images of Sylvia swirling in his feverish head, Roni dozed off, only to wake up when someone pounded on his door.
“Roni, are you alive in there? We are coming in.”
About fucking time.
He didn’t answer, not because he didn’t want to, but because his mouth was too dried out to talk.
The next moment, Jerome walked in. It was good that Roni’s door had a keypad and not a regular lock. There was no need to break it down. Jerome could’ve done it, the guy must’ve weighed over three hundred pounds. Most of it was muscle, but a good layer of fat provided padding on top.
“I’m taking you to the hospital. Boss’s orders.“ The guy scooped Roni into his arms as if he weighed nothing.
