by I. T. Lucas
"We've got him," he announced after reading the text. "Charlie and Ewan are trailing right behind him. When he stops, it's game over."
65
Peter
“I need to get rid of this beard.” Emmett tilted his head to admire himself in the rearview mirror. “A new hairstyle, a clean-shaven face, and no one is going to recognize me.”
He looked at Peter as if waiting for a response, forgetting once more that he’d ordered him not to make a sound.
“Would you like a haircut as well? Nod if you do.”
Peter didn’t.
“You’re getting one anyway because I can’t leave you alone in the car.” Emmett smoothed his hand over his soon-to-be-gone impressive beard.
As the traffic light turned to green, someone honked from behind.
Emmett shook his head. “People are so impatient.” He drove slowly, looking left and right, probably searching for a hair salon.
“I’m going to tell the barber that you are severely autistic and that you can’t talk or look at anyone but me, your devoted caretaker. You are going to follow my exact instructions, walk when I tell you, sit when I tell you, and stand when I tell you. You are not going to do anything to attract attention, and you are not going to try to get away.”
No loopholes, and no chance of escape. Why hadn’t he thought of putting earplugs in before going to Emmett’s cottage?
Because he hadn’t brought any with him to the retreat, which had been incredibly stupid. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. This entire situation was his fault, and when his friends finally showed up and saved his sorry ass, Onegus was going to tear him a new one.
“Here it is.” Emmett stopped the van in front of a barbershop. “Come on, Peter. Let’s get you a new look.”
The elderly barber smiled happily as they entered his empty shop. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What are you in for? A haircut?” He looked at Emmett’s beard. “A trim? Although I have to say that you’ve maintained it beautifully.” He reached to touch the shiny locks. “Such healthy hair. You won the gene lottery, my young friend.”
“Thank you.” Emmett led Peter to a chair. “Sit down and put your hands in your lap.” He turned to the barber with an apologetic smile. “My charge is challenged. He doesn’t talk, and he can’t look people in the eye.” He leaned closer to the guy. “If he makes strange noises or moves, ignore it. He’s harmless, but people get nervous around him when he does that.”
The barber nodded. “My nephew is autistic. It’s tough. Is he your brother?”
“I’m his caretaker.” Emmett sat down in the chair next to Peter. “I would like to shave this off, and I want a short hairstyle.” He smoothed his hand over his beard. “I was accused of looking like a biblical prophet.”
The barber’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? How many years did it take you to grow such a full beard?”
“I’ve had it for many years. It’s time for a change.”
“As you wish, my friend. You can always grow it back.”
“Indeed.”
When the barber was done with the beard, Emmett washed his face and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “Well, hello, handsome. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
With the facial hair gone, the guy looked no older than twenty-five.
The barber took a brush and combed through Emmett’s thick locks. “Do you know what hairstyle you want?”
“What’s popular nowadays?”
“Take a look.” The barber handed him a brochure.
As Emmett flipped through the pages, the barber moved to stand behind Peter. “What would you like me to do with this young man’s hair?”
Emmett lifted his head. “Give him a shave and a trim.”
“Yes, sir.” The guy patted Peter’s shoulder. “I need to get a fresh towel. I will be right back.”
Peter couldn’t even nod.
With nothing better to do, he looked at the street that was reflected in the mirror. There wasn’t much traffic, and barely anyone walked by the store, but then two familiar faces peeked at him through the front window, and Peter stifled a smile.
Charlie stayed outside while Ewan pushed the door open, walked in, and pulled out a tranquilizer gun. But as he squeezed the trigger, Emmett darted to the side faster than was possible even for an immortal and tackled Ewan down to the floor.
Unable to even turn his head, Peter watched the two wrestle through the mirror.
The barber rushed in from the back of the shop. “What’s going on?”
No one answered him, but then the shop’s front door opened, and Charlie walked in, pulled a dart from his pocket, and threw it at Emmett, hitting him in the neck.
The guy tried to reach behind him and pull it off, but Ewan was on him, holding him down until the tranq did its job, and Emmett ceased struggling.
“Stop right there!” Charlie yelled at the barber who went for the phone. “We are undercover cops, and we've apprehended a dangerous man.”
Ewan pulled a set of handcuffs from his back pocket and slapped them on Emmett’s wrists. “We need to get him out of here.” He looked at Peter. “Why aren’t you getting your butt out of the chair?”
“I don’t think he can,” Charlie said. “We need to call Kalugal.”
66
Margaret
As the doctor entered the room holding an X-ray film, her expression didn’t bode well. Margaret had a pretty good idea what the physician was going to say, and she didn’t want Bowen in the room when she did.
But how could she ask him to leave when he’d been so incredibly kind and stayed with her the entire time?
“I need a few minutes alone with Ms. Sorensen,” the doctor said, saving her the trouble.
“Of course.” Bowen smiled at her encouragingly. “I’ll be right outside.”
The young doctor turned to him. “We have a cafeteria downstairs that is quite decent. You might want to grab something to eat while I discuss options with Margaret.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Bowen looked at her. “Do you want me to get you something?”
“Maybe some tea.” She shifted her eyes to the doctor. “Is that okay? Am I allowed to have it?”
“Tea is always good.”
“I’ll be back.” Bowen left the room.
The doctor pulled out a stool and sat next to Margaret. “How is your pain level?”
“I still can’t feel anything.”
“Good. If the pain returns, press the button, and we will get you another morphine injection.”
“Thanks.”
“The doctor lifted the X-ray and pointed. “This is your patella, or kneecap. It sits at the front of the knee and acts as a shield for your knee joint. If it were a simple fracture, a splint or a cast would have been enough, immobilizing the knee while it heals, but as you can see, several pieces of bone have moved out of place, so you will need surgery to restore and stabilize the kneecap.”
Margaret felt nauseous. She’d fractured bones before, but this was the first time she had needed surgery to fix it.
“Is that common? I mean, needing surgery for this type of fracture?”
The doctor nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. Do you have anyone at home to take care of you after the surgery?”
“I live in the Safe Haven community, and we have a nurse. Can I manage on my own with crutches?”
“If everything goes well, maybe after a few days of recovery. Is there anyone in your community who can move in with you and help you until you can manage on your own?”
Margaret wasn’t sure, but she nodded anyway.
“The firefighter, is he your boyfriend?”
“No. We had a small fire scare in the community. He was one of the firefighters who came to put it out, and when I fell, he took care of me and brought me to the hospital.”
The doctor seemed relieved. Lifting the X-ray again, she pointed to a couple of old healed fractures. “How did these happen?”
“I was a clumsy teenager.” The pr
acticed lie rolled off Margaret’s tongue. “And I’m still clumsy.” She grimaced. “Out of everyone in our community, I was the only one who got hurt. When the fire alarm went off, everyone rushed out of the building. People were panicking, and someone pushed me. I tripped and hit my knee on a rock.”
“We need to check your bone density. You might have osteoporosis, which might be the reason your bones fracture more easily.” She eyed her critically. “You are underweight. Is that intentional?”
“I don’t diet if that’s what you’re asking. I just forget to eat when I’m busy, and I’m always busy.”
“The reason I’m asking is that osteoporosis is uncommon in premenopausal women, but it can be the result of an eating disorder.”
“I’m not anorexic.”
The doctor nodded. “Naturally, there are other possible causes as well. Do you have regular periods?”
“I get contraceptive injections once every three months, so I don’t get periods at all.”
“I see.” The doctor pulled a brochure out of her coat pocket. “This explains the procedure and what to expect during recovery. If you have questions after reading it, I will be more than happy to answer them.” She rose to her feet. “The nurse will come in to prep you for surgery.”
“So soon?”
“The sooner, the better. We don’t want the wound to get infected.”
As she left the room, Margaret let out a breath. Thankfully, that leg had been broken only twice before. Her arms and her ribs were another story.
Lifting the brochure, she was grateful that most of the explanations were accompanied by illustrations, so she didn’t need to strain to concentrate. The morphine was a miracle drug for managing pain, but it was hard to think with it muddling her brain.
Not that she minded.
On the contrary, she was enjoying the weightless feeling a little too much. Even the boring medical brochure and the prospect of surgery didn’t diminish it by much.
After a few minutes, though, when the illustrations became blurry and the words impossible to read, Margaret closed her eyes and let the drug carry her away.
67
Peter
After Charlie had thralled the barber to go into his storage room and reorganize supplies, he called Onegus.
“We’ve got Emmett, but we have a problem. Peter can’t move or talk. We can carry him out to the car, but I thought it would be better if Kalugal talked to him. Hopefully, he can override Emmett’s compulsion.”
“I’ll track him down and ask him to call you back. In the meantime, take care of any witnesses and secure the location.”
“Done.” Charlie disconnected the call.
“I’m taking the trash out.” Ewan slung Emmett over his shoulder and carried him out of the shop.
Thankfully, Charlie had the presence of mind to swing Peter’s chair around, so he could at least see what was going on.
The pilot turned the sign from open to closed, locked the door, and then sat on the chair Emmett had vacated. “If Kalugal doesn’t call back within the next five minutes, I’m carrying you out to the car.” He pulled both his earpieces out and smirked. “I bet you didn’t expect me to be your rescuer. Ewan thought that he could get Emmett with one shot, but I brought extra darts with me just in case.” He tapped his temple. “I’m smart. It’s always better to be prepared even for the most unlikely possibility.”
Yeah, like packing a pair of damn earpieces when going to a retreat that was run by a suspected compeller. What surprised Peter, though, was that Turner hadn’t thought of that.
As he waited for Kalugal’s call to come, time crawled excruciatingly slowly. Peter’s hands refused to leave his lap, where Emmett had commanded him to keep them, and apparently the guy being unconscious didn’t lessen the effectiveness of his compulsion.
If they didn’t have Kalugal, would Peter have been stuck like that forever?
Annani could probably override Emmett’s compulsion as well, but what happened to people that the guy had compelled and who hadn’t had access to a stronger compeller?
What if neither Kalugal nor Annani were able to undo this?
How was he going to tell them that Emmett had sent an email to his former leader?
Anxiety made the wait excruciating, and when Charlie’s phone finally rang, it seemed like much longer than five minutes had passed.
“It’s Kalugal.” The pilot smiled as he answered the call. “Charlie here.”
“I understand that you have a problem.” Kalugal’s cultured voice sounded like salvation to Peter.
“Peter is frozen in place, and he can’t talk. Can you unfreeze him?”
“I will certainly try. Is your speakerphone enabled?”
“Yes.” Charlie walked up to Peter. “I’m right next to him.”
“Peter, tell me what Emmett commanded you to do.”
“To only move when he told me to, and to not say a word or make a sound or attract any attention to myself in any way.” The relief was so tremendous that Peter got dizzy for a moment.
Except, when he tried to tell Charlie about the email, nothing came out.
“Peter,” Kalugal continued. “You can move whenever you want to, you can say whatever you want to say, and if you want to attract attention, you can do that as well in any manner of your choosing. Now, get up and walk in any direction you want.”
First Peter moved his hands, placing them on the armrests, then he pushed to his feet and walked toward the door.
“It worked. Thank you.”
“Now do something arbitrary to make sure that you are not only following my commands.”
Turning back to the barber’s station, Peter lifted a comb and ran it through his hair, and then he blew an air kiss at his reflection in the mirror.
“I’m free. Thank you. I owe you for this, big time.”
“You are most welcome.” Kalugal disconnected the call.
“I need to speak with Kian.” Peter reached for Charlie’s phone.
“Wait until we are in the car. We need to get Emmett to the jet before he starts making a fuss.”
“Do you have a spare pair of earpieces?”
“I don’t. But that’s okay. Kian’s orders are to keep the guy tranquilized until we have him secured in the keep.” Charlie unlocked the door. “Let’s go.”
“What about the barber? Shouldn’t you release him from having to organize his supply cabinet? What if someone comes in?”
“Thanks for reminding me. I should also pay him for Emmett’s haircut and the scare we’ve put him through.” Charlie pulled out his wallet and dropped a couple of hundreds on the counter.
68
Kian
When Peter called from Charlie’s phone, Turner and Onegus were already in Kian’s office, preparing to turbocharge the village’s defense systems if need be.
“He didn’t get the location of the village from me,” was the first thing Peter said. “Or any of the others, so there is no need to go on high alert. But he sent an email to his former leader, telling her everything else he’d learned from me.”
“And what was that?” Turner asked.
“Before encountering Eleanor and me, Emmett and his people weren’t aware of the existence of any other immortals besides themselves. From what I managed to get him to reveal, they are a small group, and they are relatively new to this planet. He referred to the original settlers as pure-bloods. They are not as powerful as our ancestors, and they are not really immortal, only long-lived, but they are sexually compatible with humans. Except, they either can’t activate their Dormants or just don’t know how. That’s the main thing he was interested in, and that was why he wanted to take me back to his people even though he had escaped their tyrannical rule over thirty years ago. I was supposed to be his ticket back into their good graces because I was the answer to their most pressing problem. Or rather my fangs and venom were.”
Kian was too stunned to even formulate a question. He’d already spoken
with Eleanor, but her assessment had been that Emmett Haderech was either unhinged or confused about the purpose of his fangs. But if what he had told Peter was true, then he was from an entirely different breed of immortals, or rather long-lived creatures, and they might be blood-suckers.
Turner lifted his head from the yellow pad he’d been scribbling on while Peter had made his report. “Is Emmett a pure-blood?” he asked.
“He said that he’s a first-generation half-breed. Only the pure-bloods can have long-lived children with humans, but the hybrids cannot. Their children are born human, but I’m not sure if that’s the case only when they mate with humans or also when they mate between themselves. He mentioned having a very limited gene pool, and how a child produced by me and his leader could be a new and enhanced version of immortal that will be able to activate their Dormants.”
“Do you know where his people are?” Onegus asked.
“My guess is China. An hour after he’d sent the email, Emmett checked his inbox and commented that it might be too early over there. It was one-thirty in the afternoon our time, which means that it was the middle of the night in Europe and Central Asia, so I figured it must have been further east. Not as far as Japan, though, because their workday was just about to start, and it was already mid-morning in Australia.”
“Good deductive skills,” Turner commented.
“Everything is pointing to fucking China.” Kian raked his fingers through his hair. “Does anyone else here think that the Fates are trying to tell us something?”
Onegus nodded. “It would seem so.”
“I wonder if Mey and Jin are the descendants of Emmett’s people,” Turner said. “If the children born to their second generation and humans appear human, they might not want them, which would explain how they ended up in an orphanage.”
“The pure-bloods regard their half-breed children as second-class citizens,” Peter said. “So it wouldn’t surprise me if they treat the third generation like trash.”