by Candace Sams
Deciding to indulge himself and impress the newest member of the household, he’d ordered their meal to be served in the main dining room. All the best china and cutlery was in place along with a lit, silver candelabra. Tonight, the cozier kitchen suddenly seemed less grand than he’d like.
The food was ready to eat. It had been warming for over half an hour.
He feared Jean was putting up a fuss, refusing to eat as part of some martyred gesture against her circumstances. She’d already missed every other meal, or so he’d been told.
Not a good start.
He should have made her at least take tea with someone. In leaving her alone, he’d hoped she’d come to grips with this new life, and without his gargantuan presence looming over her. Instead, she’d shut herself off from everyone.
Footsteps sounded from the hall. He heard Ben’s boisterous voice as he greeted the love of his life, Anna. Thankfully, he caught the soft echo of Jean’s more tempered speech.
Instead of voicing rebuke over the women taking so long, Ben and Hingus seemed genuinely glad to see the females, with greetings being offered loudly and happily. Compliments on how the ladies looked were issued.
He tilted his head in wonder. At least the other men weren’t opposed to having their dinner held up.
A moment later, the entire group walked his way. Their footsteps echoed on the gray foyer marble.
What entered the room, by way of feminine company, took him completely aback.
He barely recognized Anna Gast. She stood there wearing a floral, floaty dress—a style which he’d only seen in the early forties or late thirties. Her black pumps perfectly matched the outfit. Her makeup—normally very subdued—was now a bit more polished, a bit more pronounced but exquisite nonetheless. Oddly, she looked many years younger. Many years.
Of course, makeup nowadays could have that effect, being no stranger to beauty routines. He had been with many women, and watched them put on a fresh face after a long night of sex. The youthful alteration those ablutions achieved always amazed him. This time, however, Anna Gast almost looked like another human being. She caught him staring and quickly turned away.
Ben was also staring at his own spouse, as though he didn’t recognize the woman he’d been married to for decades. His wife’s hair had been gently piled atop her head, mimicking the style of many decades ago.
Totally feminine. Utterly gorgeous.
As his driver, Hingus Tate was a confirmed bachelor and made no small bones of telling anyone that he liked that circumstance. Even Hingus seemed equally agog by Anna’s new appearance.
Then, his gaze slid to the other woman in the room. Jean Long stood there, like some thirties screen goddess. Her hair was neatly pulled up into an intricate style, then pinned with a shimmering clip. Her long, dark green gown skimmed her figure and went straight to the floor where matching, strappy sandals displayed her tiny, perfectly pedicured feet. A green gemstone pen hung from the left side of her waistband.
“I’m a tad underdressed,” he told everyone as he glanced down at his tweed sport jacket, riding pants and boots. These were the typical garments for him to wear and, up to now, seemed perfectly all right for the meal ahead.
“Nonsense,” Anna gushed. Then she turned for inspection. “Aren’t these dresses to die for?”
“Indeed! You both look charming,” he softly returned, and sincerely meant it. Men and women didn’t dress for dinner anymore. He suddenly found that lost custom a crying shame.
“I’m sorry we’re so late,” Jean apologized. “It’s my fault. I was sewing and forgot the time.”
That explained her absence. To have finished such garments, she’d have had to work hard all day.
“I used to own a shop where I specialized in women’s historical fashions,” Jean explained to the others. “It started out as a hobby, then grew into a business…”
Her voice trailed away, as if she was embarrassed to be talking about herself at all.
Gart immediately reached for her arm, and gently led her to the table. “There’s no such thing as waiting for perfection,” he softly told her, and was then rewarded by a lovely smile.
From then on, the meal went flawlessly. Everything flowed like the wine they drank with dinner.
Gart couldn’t remember having such a wonderful time. Especially not in the old home. The other men were as charmed by feminine conversation as he was. All-in-all, he felt light-hearted enough to keep the evening going.
“Would anyone like drinks in the study?” he asked.
Everyone seemed to be in the same convivial mood, and agreed with the suggestion.
With his hand lightly on Jean’s lower back, as if it belonged there, he led everyone to the firelit study across the foyer. He poured drinks and put on music fitting the mood. It was a collection of World War II sounds—ballads sung for those who’d left for battle and songs of memories and hope.
Ben swung Anna onto an open space between the large, brown leather sofas. They danced and laughed in a way Gart hadn’t seen before. When he turned to ask Jean to dance, however, Hingus had beat him to it. His driver was already on the make-shift dance floor with Jean, both were smiling and laughing gaily.
He stood back and watched the merriment.
Life could be like this. It should be. Why can it not be? Why must everything always be so businesslike, formal and even forbidding?
After a time, the music ended and another song began. Hingus bowed out, saying he had to get up early in the morning.
“Good night,” Jean bid him. “And thank you for such a lovely drive to the estate.”
“Oh, ‘twas my pleaser milady. It’s so grand to have you here now.”
As Hingus walked away, Gart turned to face the new immortal in the room.
Anna and Ben were still dancing. Neither seemed interested in anything but gazing into the other’s eyes.
“Shall we?” he softly asked.
Jean smiled.
He sensed her hesitancy. Likely, his size caused concern over how she’d keep up with his steps. Little did she know. He hadn’t been so monk-like in his existence that he didn’t know how to hold a woman while dancing. Big he was, but he liked to think of himself as damned good on the dance floor.
“I am sorry I didn’t come down,” she repeated. “I truly lost track of time and always did while sewing.”
“Don’t give it another thought. As for sewing, I can put a button back on in a pinch. That’s my knowledge of the subject.”
She grinned. “I’ve always loved collecting old sewing paraphernalia. My Mum suggested that I turn it into a business.”
“You were very good at it, weren’t you? You pleased a lot of people.”
“What makes you say so?”
“Look at Mrs. Gast’s face. She’s buoyant! Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
“I just gave her a dress. If that’s all it takes to make someone happy, I’m very glad to do it.”
“But you must have sold such garments for exorbitant prices. I assume each one had to be designed, which makes each one a work of art.”
“That’s in the past. I-I’ve decided I must get on with life. I must carry on. Sewing today…it helped me put things in perspective.”
“While I’m very glad to hear it, that doesn’t mean you need to give up something you love. Something you’re obviously very good at,” he affirmed.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind, and that you wouldn’t think it an inappropriate waste of my time.”
He stopped dancing. She moved slightly away.
“Jean, there’s an old storage room upstairs. You can turn it into a sewing area if you like. It’ll be all yours. Decorate it as you please. I see nothing wrong with—”
She suddenly leapt up and hugged him hard, before backing away with a look of happy embarrassment pasted on her face.
“Thank you, Mr. Bloodnight! Thank you ever so much!”
“You’re very welcome. And my name is Gart. Garret
t, if you prefer.”
“While I’m not comfortable using your first name, I thank you so very kindly for the use of a sewing space. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
“I told you before, I’m not your warden.”
“I’ll make you a promise, sir. I’ll train hard. I’ll do the best I can. I might not be perfect, but I’ll try.”
That admission meant more than he could possibly imagine, especially since it came for no other reason than he hadn’t taken away a craft she obviously loved.
For whatever reason, she’d come to believe she couldn’t have part of her past in her future. Now, she was more than willing to put her best foot forward, for the tiny gift of nothing more than a place to sew.
Her response made him feel uneasy. “I don’t know what you’ve heard at home office, but I’m not the monster gossip paints me.”
She slowly shook her head. “No one every called you that. That’s not why I said that I’d cooperate.”
“No?”
“No. It’s just that, while sewing all day, I suddenly felt like…like…”
“What?”
“Like my old self again. I found part of me that I thought was dead.” She paused for a long moment. “I know my parents would have wanted me to carry on. I’m just not sure how to go about it, but I must find my way. Mustn’t I? I must find purpose. I know I can’t stay in a dress shop, hoping the normal humans of the world will leave me be. I know that can’t happen, but I have to do something useful if not grand or heroic.”
“You will be useful, Jean. Never doubt it. It’ll just take time. I promise, you will find purpose in this existence.”
“Was it hard for you? At first?”
“Very. But I came to know how much people depend on me. I won’t let them down. I can’t.”
She stared into his eyes. “I believe that. It’s just…this new existence is so very strange. I don’t feel different, but I know I am.”
He moved closer. “You’ll always be you. You’ll have new skills. New friends and a bright future. What makes you who you are won’t change. Not deep down.” He sighed. “It might not always feel like it. There’ll be days when you’re frustrated and miss parts of your old life. But you’ll soon have those who depend on you, too. You’ll grow to cherish that trust and you’ll honor it.”
“That’s a lot to live up to.”
“You can do it. I know you can.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He shook his head and opened his mouth to waylay the further use of sir, but she beat him to the point.
“I think a professional approach is best. I don’t mind you calling me Jean. Miss Long seems pretentious.” She shrugged. “As I said, I feel more comfortable using your surname. Can you understand? I hope you do.”
“It’s your call.”
“Sir, may I ask something personal?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you take the surname of Bloodnight? It’s rather…alarming.”
He grinned. “That’s the name of this estate.”
“I thought the estate was named after you?”
“Not a bit. Bloodnight was the name of the hill, long before anyone ever built the first earthen fort here. People in these parts respect me for using it.”
“And now that the entire world knows who you are…that some immortal lives in this castle…you see no reason to change it. I understand,” she acknowledged.
“Also…”
“Yes?” she asked with her brows raised.
“I think it’s mysterious. Dashing. Unusual. Rather romantic. Don’t you agree?” he joked.
She laughed. “Well, it’s certainly different. It somehow suits you.”
“Good. Let’s dance.”
Chapter 4
For the next few weeks, a pattern developed.
Gart watched as Anna Gast’s and Jean Long’s friendship blossomed. The two were almost inseparable. Even Ben noticed, but didn’t disapprove. Anna’s husband—indeed all the other employees—seemed to find in Jean a bright spirit that’d been missing in the old place.
He’d given her this time to acclimate before training, but still received reports of Jean’s wanderings. She was frequently seen walking around the estate. She gardened and helped staff care for the plethora of rescued animals he now kept as pets. She was seen by cleaning staff in the new sewing room she and Mrs. Gast designed for not only seamstress work, but as a respite against the world.
Soon, however, she’d have to begin training. He wasn’t altogether sure the peaceful coexistence now at play would last. Simply put, Jean didn’t know what she’d be asked to do. Or, if she did know, she hadn’t yet openly acknowledged it to him. Which meant she might not want to.
She had choices to make. He and Anna Gast would have to report back to home office concerning those choices.
He saw her in the upstairs hall, after breakfast. She appeared to be studying the artwork in the long gallery where their rooms were situated.
As she turned to smile at him, he wanted to bypass the subject but knew he no longer could.
For the money she’d be paid, and the lifestyle she’d live, a sacrifice would be needed. While he’d had no qualms at all in handing over his life to the service of his country, and in quite dangerous ways from time to time, she’d yet to fully understand what would be required.
“Can we talk?” he slowly asked.
She smiled up at him as he moved closer. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Training. Would you consider starting?”
“I knew we’d get around to it. In fact, you’ve given me a very decent amount of time to get used to my surroundings. I-I know what you’re going to ask, and I have an answer ready.”
“Which is?”
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly then spoke. “I’ll stay with the agency. Anna has told me some of what you’ve had to do in the past. These days, she says you’re a very necessary tactician. You’ve given quite a lot for the country, and the agency is happy to let you live as if you’re sort of in retirement. I have a very long way to go, to get to that stage. I know that.”
“Jean, at times, you’ll be asked to do frightening things. You might even be asked to kill. Can you accept that?” he asked, finally leveling the harshest of her duties if she stayed.
“I don’t know.” She lifted one hand and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “If trained by someone who knows when and how, I guess I’d be doing no more or less the same as any other immortal with the agency. But who makes the decision to go after people? Who deems someone worthy of death?”
“That goes very far over our heads. I can tell you that any time I’ve been sent to make an arrest, or to stop someone, they’ve deserved it. They’ve indiscriminately slaughtered in ways you cannot imagine.”
“And…how many have you…killed?” she slowly asked.
“I don’t know. Counting seemed wrong.” That was a lie. He remembered each person’s name and always would. But she didn’t need to hear that right now.
“So, what you’ve done exemplifies my life if I stay with the agency,” she said, stating it as a fact.
“You wouldn’t ever be sent on a mission alone. None of us is. I was with your great grandfather on a mission during WWII. That’s when he saved my life and lost his leg doing it.”
Her eyes widened.
“You didn’t know about his injury, did you?” Gart asked.
“No. I d-didn’t. No one ever said anything. No one really talked about what he did during the war. I simply knew that he was very highly regarded, and took that as a matter of fact.”
Gart’s mind and heart went back decades. In telling her that tale, he had to make sure she understood what was at stake in those times.
“When I met your great grandfather, our country was taking a beating. There were so many dead. Hitler had no qualms in using immortals in his country. He had a corps of them…all rogues who were off any radar…all ready to carry out t
he most horrific orders. They were cowards and brutes. No one will ever dispute that.” He paused a bit too long.
“Go on,” she softly urged.
“We had information that one of the worst of the Nazi immortals was in Austria. Your great grandfather spoke fluent German. Before the war, he’d taught it and several other languages in private schools. His skills were highly helpful in everything from reading captured German communication to forging it.”
“He went undercover? To Austria?”
“We both did. I spoke German as well. With forged paperwork, we passed ourselves off as German officers. We weren’t supposed to be there long, to say the least. Our ruse wouldn’t have held up if we’d been stopped and interrogated. I’ll save you the details since they’re still highly classified, and a few of those tactics are still being used today, but we got close enough to an inn where our target was staying. Our information as to his whereabouts paid off.” He took a deep breath before continuing. The look on her face was fearful. “One evening after we arrived, our guy left his room at the inn. Unfortunately for him, he made a habit of courting a local woman, who was spying for the allies. One night, she let us know he’d phoned. He was supposed to be visiting her. We got ahead of him and blocked the only roadway he could use. When our target’s driver stopped the car to clear a tree we’d felled across the roadway, we jumped them. A fight ensued. Your great grandfather quickly took out the human driver, but I was having quite a problem with the immortal.” Gart shook his head and stared into the distance. He could still see that quarry getting out of the car while drawing a sword so large that it defied imagination. That weapon had dwarfed his own, just as that Nazi dwarfed him.
“Mr. Bloodnight?” she whispered.
Gart shook his head and made his way from that past, back to the present. “The immortal we were after was larger than me, Jean. He had at least thirty pounds on me. He acted like a madman. I’d never fought anyone with so much raw hatred in every move. It was like battling a tank. He had every intention of taking me apart, bit by bit.”