by I. T. Lucas
"I would love to spend a few hours with your you-know-who." The prospect of talking with the goddess and having her explain some of the mysteries he'd been pondering excited Turner like nothing else.
So much so that he rubbed his hand over his chest where his heart was. It was the strangest sensation, similar to the prickling of a numb limb as it filled with blood, but instead of a limb it was something inside of him.
It made him feel alive.
It had the opposite effect on Bridget, extinguishing her excitement. "It's not possible unless you transition, and even if by some miracle you wake up on the other side, there is no guarantee she will talk to you. As you can imagine, she is quite the diva. Rightfully so, I might add. If not she, then who?"
"Right. The only one of her kind. Regardless of the cancer, I would be willing to risk my life just to see her."
Bridget tilted her head. "You would sacrifice your life to sate a curiosity?"
Turner grimaced. He wasn't like other people. Even an immortal, who was as different as it got, thought that he was weird. That was another reason he kept to himself and refrained from talking about his various interests.
Except, he wanted Bridget to understand him. Maybe she would be the one exception who would accept him the way he was.
"I'm driven by two things which are basically one—solving the insoluble. In what I do for a living, it is planning and executing missions that are seemingly impossible. And in my spare time, it is solving inexplicable mysteries. I know that I'm odd, and that I don't think or react to things like other people. That is why I never had a long-term relationship. I'm an irregularly shaped peg who doesn't fit in any precut hole."
Looking him in the eyes, Bridget asked, "Have you ever been tested for autism?"
Fuck. What kind of a question was that? Did it even deserve an answer?
That what he got for opening up. Instead of acceptance, he got a diagnosis.
Bridget lifted a hand. "People have many misconceptions about autism. The spectrum is vast, from those who can barely function to those with superior intelligence. The common factor is difficulty relating to others. I bet that many of the most successful new high-tech enterprises are headed by people with similar problems. Their intelligence combined with a singular focus makes them more likely to succeed in anything that has to do with innovation than those who are considered normal."
Being grouped together with the movers and shakers of innovation wasn't as bad. "Is there a cure?"
"No." Bridget smiled. "And even if there were, I doubt those who are at that end of the spectrum would be willing to give up what they have to become like everyone else."
"So why bother checking?"
"Because it makes life easier knowing why you have difficulty in certain areas."
Turner shrugged. "I accepted my limitations a long time ago."
"It also makes it easier for the people who care about you."
"I don't have anyone who does."
"I'm here. And I care."
Chapter 18: Bridget
Throughout the drive home, Bridget debated whether to invite Turner up to her apartment. He had been attentive, even held her hand on occasion, but she wasn't sure he was planning on taking it any further than that.
A novelty, for sure. It had been ages since she'd gone out with a man who didn't want to get her in bed right away.
The question was whether Turner was being a gentleman or just not interested. With his poker face and lack of emotional scents, she had nothing to rely on. Even her female intuition wasn't working.
Her dilemma was solved when Turner escorted her inside the lobby of her building.
"Thank you for a most enjoyable evening." He leaned and kissed her cheek.
That didn't sound like a man waiting for an invitation.
"I had a good time. Thank you," she said a little too cheerfully, trying not to show her disappointment.
He smiled. "It's my turn to invite you on a date. What are you doing tomorrow?"
"I don't know. Let me check my schedule." She pretended to pull out her phone. "Just kidding. What do you have in mind?"
"We can check out another restaurant. How about Thai? Or sushi? I meant to ask you about your food preferences, but the conversation veered in another direction."
"A most interesting one." Bridget hesitated for a few seconds before plowing ahead. "How about you come to my place, and I cook us dinner?"
Turner seemed surprised. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. I'm sure you have better things to do than cook."
Ugh. Was he being polite, or was he trying to avoid being alone with her?
He was heterosexual and unattached. There was no reason for his reluctance. Good thing that she was a confident woman who knew she was attractive.
Could he simply be asexual?
Again, his lack of scent was extremely frustrating. Bridget hated the ambiguity of the situation.
"Let me worry about the food preparation, Victor. Is it a yes, or a no?"
He smoothed his palm over his bald head. "Yes, of course, it's a yes. I would love to."
"Good. Tomorrow at seven." She gave him a deliberate once over. "Casual attire."
"Yes, ma'am."
Bridget put a hand on his shoulder and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Good night, Victor."
"Good night, Bridget." He stayed outside the guard station and watched her until she turned the corner into the elevator bay.
Had she imagined it, or had he sounded a bit breathless after she'd kissed him?
Damn it, she needed to talk to someone who knew things about human males' behavior, or she wouldn't be able to sleep. Calling Andrew was out of the question. Nathalie would get suspicious. And talking to her was no good since Andrew had been her first and only boyfriend.
Which left Syssi. Or Callie.
As a waitress, Callie met a lot of people. Besides, she was more outgoing than Syssi, and her temperament was more similar to Bridget's.
The question was whether Callie was working tonight. Brundar wanted her to take it easy and chill at home, but Callie had insisted on going back to work.
Good for her.
Bridget pulled out her phone and texted her newest friend in the keep. Are you free for some girl talk?
The answer came right away. Always. When and where?
Can you come to my place in half an hour?
I'll be there.
Back in her apartment, Bridget took off her new sexy dress and put on a pair of comfy sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, then cleaned the makeup from her face and gathered her hair in a ponytail.
It had felt good to dress up, but even better to dress down.
Perhaps she should invite Syssi as well? Get another woman's perspective? But if she invited Syssi, she had to invite Amanda as well.
Heck, why not.
Amanda had never been a human, but she interacted with enough of them at the university. She might have learned a thing or two.
It had been a long time since Bridget had invited friends over. In fact, ever since she'd broken up with Daniel, she'd been living like a recluse. It had been so disappointing to realize there was no way he was a Dormant, and that her initial infatuation with him had been more about their shared interest in medicine and physical attraction than a real connection.
She'd been so starved for companionship that she had convinced herself they'd had something special when in fact they hadn't.
People in love couldn't stay away from each other, and she wasn't even referring to truelove mates. All over the globe, regular human couples were experiencing that initial hot flare. The fact that She and Daniel had been so comfortable in their long-distance relationship should have been her first clue
"Knock, knock," Amanda announced, opening the door without actually knocking.
Behind her, Syssi rolled her eyes. "For months, I'm trying to teach her to knock before coming in, and that's what she does." She waved a hand at her sister-in-law.
"Why knock when we were expected?" Amanda said on her way to the kitchen.
Syssi snorted, "As if not being expected ever stopped you."
Amanda ignored her and walked over to the stove. "I'm putting the kettle on for tea. Callie doesn't like coffee."
Callie, who'd just stepped out of another elevator, knocked on the open door. "I wasn't expecting a party."
"I'll make the coffee," Syssi volunteered.
"Should I get snacks?" Callie asked.
Bridget patted her shoulder. "I have a better idea. Anyone want ice cream?"
Amanda sauntered out of the kitchen. "Ice cream means men trouble."
"I'll tell you all about it once everyone is seated." Bridget opened the freezer and checked her ice cream supply. There was an unopened container of coffee-flavored Häagen- Dazs, and one of Butter-Pecan she'd already eaten about a quarter of.
"Okay, girl, we are all dying from curiosity. Talk!" Amanda commanded as soon as the coffee and tea were served along with the ice-cream.
"I don't know what to think," she said after telling them about her date with Turner. "A human who doesn't emit any emotional scents is a mystery to me. I don't know how to read him. Heck, I don't know if he is even attracted to me. That kiss on the cheek was demoralizing. I haven't been dropped at the door like that since the fifties."
"Maybe he is shy?" Syssi suggested. "There is a lot of pressure on guys to be the ones to initiate. But then with everything that is going on now, I wouldn't be surprised if men were too scared to do anything without getting a written invitation, preferably witnessed and notarized."
Callie nodded. "On the one hand, it is good that women are no longer afraid to come out and say they don't like all those unsolicited come-ons, especially when declining could mean unpleasant repercussions. But on the other hand, decent men are too scared to initiate anything. Where is the middle ground?"
Amanda shrugged. "Simple. Two strikes and you're out. One come-on is not grounds for anything, but a second one after the first one was declined is. Women will have to be more decisive. No more 'let see how far he is willing to chase me if I keep saying no.' It needs to be either a definite yes or a no."
"I agree," Bridget said. "But I didn't invite you over to discuss current events. You are here to give me advice. Especially the ex-humans. You had to deal with men without the benefit of scenting their emotions. How did you know if a guy was interested in you or not? If he found you attractive or not? What does it mean when a man kisses you on the cheek but then asks you for another date?"
"It means that you are important to him," Syssi said. "He is treading carefully because he doesn't want to make a mistake and blow his chances with you."
Amanda waved a hand. "I think he is playing hard to get. He wants you to chase him. Some guys get off on that."
"Callie?" Bridget asked. "What do you think?"
Callie sighed. "It can be what Syssi said, or what Amanda said, or it could be something else. Maybe he wants to get to know you better before getting close because he's been hurt in the past."
"Or he might be trying to manipulate you," Amanda said. "After all, he needs you to approve his transition request."
The thought had crossed Bridget's mind. A man like Victor Turner, a gifted strategist, would come up with the best plan to make her say yes to his transition. Perhaps he was still in the research stage of his plan, and therefore treading carefully as Syssi had said. Bridget was indeed important to him, but not in a romantic sense.
Did it change anything?
Not really. She was still fascinated by him and not willing to give up on him just because he had ulterior motives.
Victor was not her truelove match. She didn't need his devotion or his declaration of undying love. All she wanted was to enjoy his company for as long as their fling lasted.
To hope for more was not only unrealistic, but an invitation to heartache.
Chapter 19: Losham
Out on the balcony of his luxurious hotel suite, Losham sipped his cup of Da Hong Pao, a tea so exotic it was enjoyed only by the richest people on the planet.
"We've been going about this all wrong, Rami."
"How so, sir?" His assistant put down a tray of assorted truffles on the side table next to him.
"The murdered human women are not the bait that will lure in the Guardians and then lead us back to their home base. Our men are."
Rami sat on the other chair and propped his elbows on his knees. "Do you think they have been behind our men's disappearances?"
Losham nodded. "We don't know what happened to them. But that's one possibility. Though the most likely one is defection. The men were not too keen on murdering women. It goes against their primitive programming."
"The men do what they are told. They are conditioned to obey orders."
"There are no bodies, and our contact in the police claims that no suspects resembling our missing men were taken into custody. Which leaves only two options. They either defected or were taken by Guardians. Out of the two, I favor the second. I find it hard to believe that even one soldier defected, let alone two or three."
Rami shook his head. "But how did the Guardians know where to look? The men never went to the same place twice."
"I don't know. Maybe they have surveillance drones in the air that we've missed."
"That's a possibility."
Losham took another sip of the tea. "It doesn't matter how they do it. What matters is that the next man they snatch will lead us to them."
"But the trackers didn't work."
"Implanting the trackers failed, not the devices themselves. A small tracker glued to some inconspicuous part of the body will do the job just as well as an implanted one."
"If they are taken. But if the men are defecting, they will take the tracker out, and we will never know."
"On the contrary. If a man goes missing and his tracker leads us to a rubbish bin, then we will know that we are dealing with a defector. But if we get lucky, it will lead us to the clan's home base. In either case, we will at least know what we are dealing with."
"Do you want me to put in an order for a new shipment of trackers?"
"Yes. Find the smallest available."
"Wouldn't it be wiser to get the kind that is hidden in a piece of jewelry?"
"Order both. If the Guardians find the one in the jewelry, they will not look for another one. In fact, order four for each man. We will hide them on different parts of the body and in clothing."
Rami grinned. "Your wisdom never ceases to astound me, sir."
Chapter 20: Jackson
"Ruth, thank you for coming." Jackson offered Sylvia's mother his hand.
He'd put the ad on the clan's virtual bulletin board weeks ago, but had gotten no calls. Ruth was the first and only applicant to respond.
She shook it. "I saw your ad on the bulletin board, and then Sylvia mentioned that you need help around here because your buddies are leaving for college."
"I do. Let me show you around."
She glanced at the empty booths and the Naugahyde covered benches that had seen better days. "I see that you haven't done any renovations."
"I'm not the owner. Nathalie, Andrew's wife, is. She should get here any minute."
Ruth looked uncomfortable. "I thought I was meeting just with you."
He arched a brow. "Do you have a problem with Nathalie?"
"No, of course not. But I have never been on a job interview before. Having to do it in front of two people stresses me out."
Sylvia had warned him that her mother was emotionally fragile. That was why Ruth had never worked a day in her life, depending on her share of the clan's profits to provide for her and her daughter.
Now that Sylvia was a grown woman and ready to fly the coop, Ruth was panicking. She needed to get out of the house and have contact with people other than Sylvia and her friends.
Except Jackson wasn't running a charity project, and if Ruth couldn't handle the pressures of the caf�
� he had no use for her. He was willing to give her a chance, though. Not only as a favor to Sylvia, but because everyone deserved one.
"To start with, you'll need to work with Gordon in the kitchen and learn how to make the sandwiches and the cold salads that go with them. We make the salads in the morning before we open. It's nothing fancy. A potato salad and a coleslaw, which are easy to make."
He led her to the kitchen and pointed to the recipes Gordon had stapled to the wall above the prep table. "Here are all the sandwiches on the menu, what goes inside them and in what order." He turned around and opened the fridge. "Each cold cut and cheese is sorted in a labeled container, so there are no mistakes. We slice them up in the morning, and again at lunch if we run out."
Ruth kept nodding.
"Are you going to remember all this?"
"It's not complicated. Everything makes sense."
He snorted. "Wait until you get ten orders at once. Things get hectic in here at breakfast and lunchtime."
"I think I can manage." Her voice sounded more confident now that she knew what was expected of her.
"Let me show you the cappuccino machine. When I'm here, I make it, but everyone working here needs to know how to operate it."
"Okay." She followed him behind the counter where he turned the machine on.
"Have you ever made a cappuccino before?"
She shook her head.
"It's not that hard unless you're trying to make fancy shapes. Took me forever to master the basic ones like a heart and a leaf."
He put out two small aluminum cups and pressed a button. "This part is automatic. The frothing is what takes skill."
She watched him do it. "Do I have to know how to make shapes?"
"It's not necessary, but it's a nice touch. Take your time with that. There is no hurry."
The bells on the front door jingled as Nathalie pushed it open. "I'm sorry I'm late, guys. I had to wait for Andrew to come home before I could leave."
She offered her hand to Ruth. "How are you doing?"
"I'm well. How about you? How is motherhood?"