by I. T. Lucas
Anandur’s criteria were simple. A horny woman, at least in her late twenties, who was big enough to handle a guy his size. Naturally, the prettier, the better, but he wasn’t as discriminating in that department. The vibe was more important, the immediate attraction. He didn’t want to work too hard on luring a female into a dark corner for a quickie, and he was in no mood for taking anyone to a hotel and spending the night with a stranger.
It wasn’t because he was cheap and didn’t want to spend the money. It was just more honest that way.
Unbidden, a memory surfaced of Brundar and Callie cuddling on the couch and whispering into each other’s ears. He hadn’t seen his brother so alive since Brundar was a little boy. It was as if Callie had resurrected him.
Anandur was happy and relieved and grateful beyond measure, but he was also envious. He wanted that. A woman to cuddle with, go to bed with, wake up in the morning with, and then do everything over again the next day and the day after that.
“Hey, big guy, do you want to dance?” A curvy blond put her hand on his bicep.
After a quick look-over, he nodded. She was shorter than his usual type, and her boobs looked fake, but she had a nice smile and she was nervous, which meant that she wasn't naturally forward and that it had taken guts for her to approach him. She must've liked what she saw.
Good enough.
“With you, sweetling, always.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.
18
Losham
“What do you have for me?” Navuh asked without preamble, as soon as he’d cast the soundproofing shroud over his office.
Losham took out a printed page from his folder and handed it to Navuh. “I took the liberty of printing out the high points of what I’m about to suggest, just to keep myself organized.”
Mortdh forbid he should say anything about his father’s forgetfulness. Navuh hated reading memos or anything else for that matter. He wanted information delivered to him in the most concise and clear manner possible and not weighted down by too many details.
It worked well when there was only one item on the agenda, but what Losham had prepared was so huge in scope that his father might get lost in it. Besides, he needed to gauge Navuh’s response to the items on the list. If the leader barked about this or that item, Losham would downplay it and concentrate on the others.
Navuh glanced at the page for about a second before training his dark, intense gaze on Losham. “Proceed.”
Losham dipped his head. “As per our previous meeting, my lord, there are two main areas of concern which you wanted me to address. One is more immediate and has to do with finances, and the other is more long-term and has to do with a new direction for the Brotherhood. As you have wisely stated, the world has changed, and we have to adopt new ways of doing things. Wars are no longer fought with swords or guns, they are fought with technology, and the Brotherhood can’t persevere unless we master it.”
So far so good.
Navuh kept nodding sagely.
“I’ll address the finances first. As you have mentioned, the drug trade is not as profitable as it used to be and we are having problems with the gangs running it. I looked into it, and I think the gangs have outlived their usefulness. I suggest we cut them off and replace them with our own people.”
By the gleam in Navuh’s eyes, he liked the idea. “Go on.”
“On the other hand, we have all these warriors with no wars to fight. Even if we could instigate a few to keep them busy, we would run the risk of discovery because of the aerial surveillance. Between the satellites and the drones and all the phones with cameras, it is too easy to record something that shouldn’t be possible. What’s true for Annani’s clan is also true for us. It’s getting harder to hide.”
Navuh waved a hand. “We talked about it the other time.”
Not exactly, but the seed had been planted.
Losham bowed his head. “Your wisdom guided me on my quest for a solution, my lord.”
Navuh leaned back in his armchair and folded one side of his long robe over his knees. “Pour us a drink, Losham.” He motioned at the bottle and two glasses the servant had left on the side table.
“Of course, my lord.” Losham did so promptly and elegantly.
After Navuh took a sip, Losham continued. “I suggest that we leave the humans to fight their own wars. Instead of helping our protégés by supplying them with trained soldiers, we can help them by supplying them with superior technology.”
Navuh frowned. “We don’t have superior technology, and we can’t even buy it. It’s not for sale.”
“That’s true, my lord. I’ll address this problem next. It’s all connected.”
Navuh’s brows dipped in a scowl. “You’re trying my patience, Losham. Just tell me your plan. Don’t feed it to me in small bits as if it’s difficult for me to understand.”
This wasn’t good. He needed to get on with it.
“Money is the most powerful agent, and we need more of it to finance our own technological advancement. We can use the soldiers in the drug trade and grow it beyond the limited capability of the gangs. With central global planning and trained soldiers to do the work, we can double and triple what we make from it. That will give the warriors something to do while lining our coffers. Another source of profits is the chain of clubs I created. Those could become even more profitable by providing paid sexual services to the members. I’m thinking of employing similar recruiting tactics to those we use for the island, but with a twist to keep the females from running. Once we start generating the extra money, we will use it to fund our own technology.”
Losham paused to take a sip of the drink and catch his breath.
“Who is going to develop those technologies? It’s not like we have a lot of brains here,” Navuh said.
And whose fault was that?
But naturally, Losham didn’t dare remind his father of what he’d been saying for centuries. The breeding program had been shortsighted. By concentrating on producing strong warriors instead of smart ones, they had created a stupid army that was no longer good enough for modern times. They needed to start producing brains.
“For now we can hire talent, or kidnap it, or coerce it. But in the long term, we need a better breeding program. All those influencers we lure in here, some of them are very smart humans. We can use them to breed the Dormants and produce smarter offspring.”
Losham took another sip to fortify his courage for what he was about to suggest next. “We should test the children when they are still young to find the smart ones and educate them appropriately.”
Navuh nodded. “That’s a good idea. I don’t want the soldiers overly educated. Selecting the few who are smart enough to learn and segregating them is the right way to go. They shouldn’t get any military training and be kept locked up.”
“Wise suggestion, my lord. That way the smart males could breed with the smart females and produce more smart immortals.”
Losham held his breath as he waited for his meaning to sink in.
Navuh’s eyes narrowed into two slits. “Females? You want to educate the females? You’ve spent too much time in the West, Losham. Females are only good for one thing, and that’s breeding.”
“Perhaps we can use the young females just in the beginning, my lord. Not many of the children will be born smart, and I would hate to waste half of the potential. The females could do both. Learning and working do not preclude breeding.”
For a few moments, Navuh seethed in silence. It seemed that his hatred of females was stronger than his desire for a better future for the Brotherhood, and Losham was ready to concede defeat.
“Very well. I’ll humor you and let you test the females. But you’re going to be disappointed. They are mentally inferior, and their bodies are made for breeding. Even when they have brains that could learn, their hormones cloud that ability. As soon as they reach breeding age, their brains stop functioning properly.”
Losham bowed his
head, doing his best not to shake it. His father was so full of contradictions. He wasn’t a stupid male, and he had a good grasp on modern science, and yet, despite all the evidence to the contrary, he still believed in the inferiority of female brains.
Such was the power of belief.
Navuh believed wholeheartedly in his own father’s teachings, and nothing could convince him that Mortdh had been wrong.
“The last item on the agenda is the clan. How do you want to proceed, my lord?” Losham asked.
Navuh put his glass on the table. “I gave it some thought and decided not to waste resources on a futile chase. Their downfall will come when the democracies they support collapse. That was the long-term plan all along.”
“Yes, my lord.”
19
Bridget
“Melanie, Douglas, this is Bridget, my partner,” Turner introduced her to his son, who was gawking at her as if she had horns, and to his bride, who was checking out Bridget’s dress.
Casting a quick look at her groom, Melanie smiled broadly and took the lead, pulling Bridget into her arms. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She kissed the air next to Bridget’s cheek. “Sorry for the douchie kiss, but I don’t want to smear lipstick all over you.”
“Same here.” Bridget laughed.
“I was thinking about using one of those that are not supposed to come off, but they are not as nice, and they feel weird.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Melanie was easy to like. Unpretentious, friendly, and what surprised Bridget the most, not at all stressed out. It seemed the young bride was a people person and had no problem being the center of attention.
“I love your dress,” Melanie said. “Isn’t it gorgeous, Douglas?” She elbowed her guy.
“Yes. It’s very pretty. Nice to meet you.” He finally offered his hand.
“You too. I heard so much about you.”
To his credit, even though Melanie had given him the perfect excuse to check out Bridget’s body with her remark about the dress, Douglas’s eyes never strayed from Bridget’s face.
“Good things, I hope.”
“Of course.”
“Where did you and my dad meet?” Douglas asked.
The question didn’t come as a surprise. Bridget looked about the same age as Douglas, and way too young for his father. No wonder he was curious about where they’d met.
Victor wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Bridget is a doctor, and I went to see her about a persistent cough I had. She came highly recommended.”
Bridget felt her cheeks warm up. It was one thing to be thought of as a younger woman dating an older man, and another one as a doctor who dated her patient.
“Naturally, I’m not his doctor.” She smiled tightly. “He came to me for a second opinion, and I sent him back to his regular doctor.”
Melanie tilted her head. “When did you finish medical school? Did you skip high school and go straight to college? You’re way too young to be a doctor.”
“Years ago. Looks can be deceptive.” Bridget pointed to her face. “I use moisturizer religiously and never go to sleep with my makeup on.”
It wasn’t a lie. Going to sleep with makeup on was gross because it rubbed off on her pillowcases. And since her skin often felt dry, Bridget applied lotions liberally.
“You must tell me which brand you use.”
“I keep switching. Maybe that’s the trick.”
“I’ll try that.”
Behind them, the line of guests was getting longer.
“We’ve monopolized enough of your time,” Turner said. “Your other guests are waiting.” He started leading Bridget away.
“Not so fast, mister,” Melanie called after him in a stern tone.
With a raised brow, Victor turned. “Yes?”
She beckoned him with her hand. “You don’t get away without a hug.”
Amused, Bridget watched Victor submit to the girl’s embrace.
“Now you can go.” She released him.
“I like Melanie,” Bridget said as they walked over to collect their table assignment. “And Douglas is a very nice young man.”
What she didn’t say was that he looked nothing like Turner.
Douglas was taller and bulkier than his father. His eyes were brown and so was his hair while Victor’s eyes were blue-gray and what hair he had on his body was light blond. Then again, brown was a dominant gene for both eye color and hair color. Douglas had probably inherited the coloring from his mother.
“We should say hello to Douglas’s mom,” she said.
“I know.” Turner looked like he would’ve rather wrestled a gorilla than talk to Nancy. “Let’s get it over with.”
It was interesting to watch the interaction.
The moment Peter, the stepfather, spotted Turner he rushed to intercept, taking Victor’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Douglas told us about your offer to buy him and Mel a house. I assume you meant the down payment. That’s very generous. Nancy and I would like to put up some money too. What range are we talking about?”
Trotting on a pair of spiky heels, Nancy followed her husband with a tight, nervous smile. “Thank you, Victor. That is so nice of you.” She fidgeted with the little purse she was holding.
Even without the strong scents of anxiety and guilt she was broadcasting, Bridget could read Nancy’s emotions loud and clear.
Ignoring the brouhaha about the house, Victor put his hand on the small of Bridget’s back and gave her a slight push forward. “I would like you to meet my partner, Bridget. Bridget, this is Nancy, Douglas’s mother, and that is Peter, her husband.”
Up until that moment the two hadn’t noticed her, or rather hadn’t made the connection that she was with Victor.
“I’m so sorry,” Peter said as he offered his hand. “I thought you were one of Melanie’s friends. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Turner’s arm tightened around her waist.
Nancy offered her hand. “I’m so glad that Victor finally found someone.”
The woman hadn’t lied, at least not about that. There had been relief in her tone. But what was the guilt all about?
Was it about leaving Turner all those years ago? Was that why she was happy to finally see him with someone?
The thing was, Bridget suspected there was more to it than that. Douglas didn’t look like Victor, and he didn’t look much like Nancy either. The woman was about Bridget’s height, maybe an inch or two taller, and slender. Her hair was dark chestnut, but it wasn’t her natural color, and her eyes were blue.
Still, Douglas could have inherited his size, his coloring, and his body build from some other relative. Genes were funny that way.
Except, on a gut level Bridget suspected a different story. Had Nancy been lying about Victor’s paternity?
The man would be crushed if he found out. Even though he kept saying that he hadn’t been much of a father to Douglas, having a son provided him with an anchor.
It wasn’t a conscious thing on Victor’s part, and Bridget was aware that she might have been projecting her own feelings onto him, but if having a child meant everything to her, an immortal with a large extended family, how much more it would have meant to a human with none?
“We should find our table,” Victor said.
Peter clapped Victor on the back. “We should get together to talk about the down payment for the house.”
“I’m not talking about a down payment, I’m buying them a house. If you want, you can furnish it for them.”
Peter stammered something about the lucky young couple, and Nancy shed a tear that she quickly wiped away.
The scent of guilt intensified.
“I’m thirsty,” Bridget interrupted the tense moment. “Let’s grab a drink.”
“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea,” Victor said as he took her elbow.
Bridget smiled. “It was nice meeting you. We’d better hurry and get the drinks before dinner starts.”
<
br /> “We will talk more later,” Peter called after them.
Victor let out a breath. “That was awkward. We should have found an excuse to skip the rehearsal dinner. I hate to think I will have to suffer through this again at the wedding.”
Bridget took his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “The hard part is over. You don’t have to talk to Nancy again if you don’t want to. Hi, bye, and that’s it.”
“Promise?”
20
Turner
“The breakfast here is terrible.” Bridget grimaced as she glanced at the selection the hotel’s buffet offered. “It’s eggs and sausage and bacon, and everything is swimming in oil.”
Turner paused in front of the scrambled eggs, his plate already half loaded. “We can go somewhere else.”
Bridget waved a hand. “I’ll just get a coffee and a muffin.”
“Are you sure?”
“I need my morning caffeine.”
“As you wish.” He was hungry and not as finicky as Bridget. As someone who had survived on mess hall food and army rations, he could eat anything. On second thoughts, though, the scrambled eggs indeed looked oily. He moved over to the omelets and scooped one onto his plate.
His phone rang as they were about to sit down.
The private one.
“It’s probably Douglas.”
“A premonition?” Bridget asked.
He shook his head. Deducing the identity of the caller had nothing to do with the paranormal. No one other than his son, Bridget, Alice, and Roni had his private number. Alice was on vacation, and Roni knew he was out of town. Besides, the only reason the kid ever called was to reschedule their training sessions.
To his surprise, however, it wasn’t Douglas. It was an unknown caller. “Yes?”
“It’s Nancy. I got your number from Douglas.”
“What can I do for you, Nancy?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m listening.”
“Not over the phone. What I need to say has to be done face to face. Please, it will not take long. I can come over to your hotel and we can have coffee in the lobby.”
