The Immortal Takes a Wife

by Pamela Labud

  After all, he wasn’t like his brother. He couldn’t let himself fall in love completely because the pain would be too much to bear. Knowing that Fiona was close but ultimately unattainable was what kept him tethered to reality.

  Even if reality really stunk, like it did at that moment.

  #

  Hawke did his best to not panic. He’d finally arrived back at his hotel room, bounty and said bounty’s beautiful girlfriend in tow, ready to meet with his boss, satisfy the term of his contract and get the heck out of Dodge. A smooth transition and he wouldn’t ever have to look back on this moment. He could go back to his old life. Except that he didn’t really have a life to go back to. Never mind that now, he told himself.

  So why did that leave a sour taste in his mouth? Why did doing this last thing stab at his very soul?

  Put it away, Hawke, he told himself. You’re doing what you have to do, not what you want to do. It’s the only way to be free of it all…

  And he would have been, too. Except for his rotten luck. Nothing had ever gone smoothly in his life lately. Not the since day he’d vowed to protect someone and not one day since.

  “What’s taking so long,” the redhead said behind him.

  “Get back in the SUV,” he shouted behind him. “I’ll be right there.”

  Stepping up to the door, he touched the handle and gently pushed it open. The room was dark, except for the light that spilled in from the doorway. His breath caught in his throat, Hawke stepped into the room.

  The place had been hit big time. The walls that were once a bland beige were now covered in giant black splotches, clearly made by some high energy discharge. But, that wasn’t all. He looked down at the bed at the far end of the room. In the center of it, where Grogan had been sleeping when he’d left that morning, was a giant, greasy oozing, rubbery puddle. On the bedside table, the only surface in the room not covered in whatever that oily stuff was, sat a single piece of hotel stationary.

  Hawke picked it up and read what was written on it.

  You’re next, bounty hunter…

  This must have just happened, Hawke thought. No doubt someone would be calling it in to the Sheriff. He needed to get what information he could and get out fast.

  “What is it, mate?”

  Hawke spun around, dropping the note. “What the…? How did you get out of the restraint collar?”

  His bounty leaned over and scooped up the note, reading the message that had been left for Hawke.

  “You don’t know much about Immortals, do you?”

  “What?”

  Fiona stepped into the room. “Don’t be a jerk, Matty.” She turned to Hawke, crossed her arms and began in a tone of voice that one reserved for very small children and people with dementia. “Matty here has only one sort of magic. He can’t die. But, he can stop living for short periods of time. She reached back and grabbed the bounty’s hand. “He let me kill him. Once he was officially not alive, the restraint dissolved.”

  “And he’s Immortal…” Hawke groaned.

  “You’ve got it, mate. I simply came back to life a free man.”

  Hawke turned back to the woman. “And you killed him? Just like that?”

  “It didn’t take a lot of effort, even with your flimsy cuffs.” She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled the mangled, sparking metal bracelets out and handed them to him. “I’ve been threatening to break his neck for some time. I found it supremely satisfying, by the way.”

  “Right.” Hawke rubbed his temples. His life had just become much more complicated and with the threat of the boss’s disappointment hanging over him, now it looks like there was something even worse waiting in the wings.

  “You need some assistance,” the Immortal said.

  Hawke glanced up at the couple. “You’re offering to help me?”

  “Not without a price,” the woman said. “Believe me, that price won’t be cheap.”

  “Let me guess. You want me to let your boyfriend go?”

  The Immortal elbowed the she-wolf. “See, he’s not as dull as you thought,” He chuckled.

  “Matty,” she said in a warning tone. “I don’t find this even remotely humorous.”

  “Believe me, Fiona, neither do I.”

  It was clear the two of them meant to make the best of a bad situation and he had little choice in the matter.

  “Fine. How can you help me?”

  “First,” the Immortal said, “Let’s get you some place safer.”

  “Safer?”

  “Dude, you are in far more danger than we are.” He held up the note. “There’s a target on your back. It’s best to be a moving target, eh?”

  Hawke couldn’t argue even though he wanted to. Besides, the Immortal was the one thing that stood between him and saving the one person that really mattered.

  “I suppose you have some thought as where we’d be out of danger?”

  His bounty winked him. “As a matter of fact, I do, and it’s but a short distance from here. Trust me, you’ll be like a ghost.”

  Hawke groaned. “I have a feeling, I’m going to end up as one, anyway.”

  Chapter Five

  It was after midnight when they made the old Branson House. Fifty years earlier, the place had been the top of the market, but after three failed seasons, a flood and the death of the developer, the place had fallen on hard times.

  “Wow,” Fiona said, surveying the place. “What I wouldn’t do for a bull dozer right about now.”

  She shot a glance to Matty, who said nothing.

  Hawke climbed out of the SUV. He gave the place a sharp examination, and it was clear he had some thoughts on the matter, too.

  “I dunno.” Matty cleared his throat. “A couple of coats of paint, some landscaping and a lawnmower would give it a lot more curb appeal.”

  The bounty hunter grunted. “As if we had time for any of that. What is this place, again?”

  Matty grinned. “Sanctuary. It does have its charms. The best part, it’s haunted.

  He held his breath as he watched Fiona and the bounty hunter. Both stopped, open mouth and stared at him. He reveled in their disbelief.

  “Matty?” Fiona began.

  “Look at the two of you. Afraid of a few little ghosties?”

  Hawke grunted. “An Immortal on good terms with an ephemeral? Are you kidding?”

  “Not at all. My brother, the funeral director, employs quite a few.”

  “Right.” Fiona looked around. “Well, maybe it’ll be a good hideout. I doubt anyone would come looking for us here.

  “More than that, the staff can keep an eye out for us, help us if we need to hide from our enemies.” Matty walked past the others, and snatching Fiona’s hand, headed for the door. “As it happens, they are rather fond of me.”

  Hawke grimaced. “If you say so. Never been one for making nice with the dead, myself.”

  The house actually looked a little better on the inside, relatively clean and inviting. Polished wood floors had not lost their luster, neither did the demure gray pearl walls, or the circular staircase that dominated the entry. Beyond that, a modest fountain on one wall and an impressive fireplace on the other. Both were not in bad condition, but clearly hadn’t been used in a while.

  “Welcome, guests,” a voice said from the entryway. “The staff awaits your pleasure.”

  A cold chill enveloped the room, announcing the ghostly presence.

  “Mister Becker,” Matty said into the mist.

  “A joyous welcome, lady and gentlemen. Whatever you need we are here to serve.”

  “That’s an awfully nice way to greet strangers,” Fiona muttered.

  Matty turned to the others. “Back in the day, they had quite an establishment. I thought it would be good to take advantage of the charm.”

  Fiona stepped back a pace. “Establishment? Not another funeral home?”

  “I beg your pardon,” the ghost sniffed
. “Branson House has striven to provide therapy to all who needed it since the mid-eighteens.”

  Hawke scratched his chin, his gaze darkening. “Therapy,” he grimaced.

  “Mid, eighteens?” Fiona asked. “Eighteen what?”

  “Eighteen-hundred and forty-five, to be exact, madam,” he huffed. “We were the go-to place for all who sought our care.”

  “In Nocturne Falls?” Hawke asked.

  “Indeed. Our clientele is broad, and we have served many. We didn’t follow the trends in mental health care of the time. The Branson House’s policy was always for rest and retirement.”

  “Wait,” Fiona stepped forward. “I know what this is.” She turned toward Matty. “Are you kidding. You brought us to a crazy house?”

  The butler flew forward. “Madame, we do not refer to our clients in that manner. Believe me, when I say, the tortured souls who’ve sought treatment at our facility were given the utmost civility and respect. We would never demean or malign our clientele.”

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do either. You understand my hesitation here. Mental illness among the living, normal or supernatural, is a tragic condition.”

  Matty touched her arm. “My love. I would not now, nor would I ever take you anywhere that you’d be in danger, believe me. This really is a lovely place. The inhabitants are a bit eccentric, but certainly not dangerous.”

  Hawke stepped forward. “You act like a guy who knows by personal experience.”

  “Well, actually, there was a time…”

  The ghost moved to stand between them. “I caution you, good sir,” he said to the bounty hunter. “We guard the sanctity of our clients vigorously. Whether or not Mr. Hyland has ever been our patient is his business and his alone. You could burn every brick to the ground and none here would ever divulge a person’s private information.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve no problem telling them.” Matty waved his hand and turned to Fiona. “I know I should have said something, but about twenty years ago, well, let’s just say I had some things to work out.”

  “You had issues? You never came to me?”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t in a good place. Well, a guy can only break a woman’s heart so many times. We were through, back then, you know.”

  Fiona looked around the room and it was clear that his words stabbed her deeply.

  “This is why I never told you. I know you’d feel responsible and then torture yourself with the guilt.”

  It was in that moment, that he’d hadn’t anticipated the depth of Fiona’s love for him. Because when he gave her his best sympathetic expression, that he missed the flat of her hand swinging in a round house slap. In fact, he was so surprised that when the palm of her hand connected with the left side of his face, it completely knocked him off balance and he flew backwards…and into the stunned bounty hunter’s arms.

  “Respect,” Hawke muttered as he pushed Matty back up to his feet.

  “What the devil?” He sputtered, through the swollen half of his face. They’d been doing so well this time, he’d forgotten how strong Fiona actually was when she became emotional.

  “You bloody fool,” she bit out. “You didn’t think to tell me? I was your girlfriend.”

  “Um, my ex-girlfriend, at the time,” Matty said, this time making sure he was in a position to duck if need be. In truth, Fiona wasn’t one to dwell. He knew she’d likely gotten all of her anger out in one swing, but just in case, he stepped back a pace.

  “That isn’t the point…” She said.

  Just then the ghost flew in between them. “Violence will not be tolerated, madam. If you have such proclivities, the management asks you to leave or seek assistance.”

  “Violence, me? He’s the one who caused all of this in the first place…”

  Just then the voice of reason rang out and it was from the Bounty hunter.

  “Guys, please. Can we deal with this another time? When there’s not a death sentence hanging over me. Whatever this place is, we’re stuck here. I don’t know about you, but I’m ravenous and short on cash, thanks to Immortal guy. We’ve got other things to worry about, like, I don’t know, surviving?”

  Matty rubbed his jaw. “You’ve no need to worry about it. They can put it on my tab.”

  “Tab?” Fiona sputtered. “You have a tab? How many times have you been here?”

  “Yeah, um. How about we get checked in and settled, then we’ll talk about it. I think food and rest are what you need the most.”

  Hawke laughed behind him. “Yeah, that and a better boyfriend.”

  #

  In spite of being in a ‘therapeutic rest home’ setting, Fiona had to really fight to keep her temper under control all throughout dinner. Hurt, anger, and confusion warred within her, and despite the staff’s unrelenting attempt to ‘help her deal with her emotional miasma,’ they called it, she was still unsettled about it hours later.

  “Would madam like to have some warm milk before bedtime? It will help ease the anxieties.”

  That was the problem. She didn’t want her anxieties eased. She wanted to storm and curse and break things. She wanted to know why the love of her life kept secrets from her.

  “I suppose you want to talk now?” Matty said as their dessert was being served. She looked down into the depths of her baked Alaska and ruminated. The meal had been gourmet perfect. The staff had known instinctively what to bring each one of them. For her and the bounty hunter, braised beef, and for Matty a nice, ox-tail stew. The vegetables had been fresh and tender, the pasta had been hand made, and even the cabernet that she and Hawke had taken with their food had been exquisite. Matty had, of course stayed to his usual glass of stout.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  The bounty hunter drank the last of his wine. “Of course, you will. A little nightcap, a long discussion with Romeo, here and I’m sure you’ll sleep like a baby.”

  Matty coughed. It was clear that the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was talk about anything.

  “No, thank you,” she told the men. “I’m fine. The past is…in the past. Even if it was yesterday,” she said. Tossing her napkin on the remains of desert. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to retire to my room.”

  Matty stood up. “No problem. I asked them to prepare us one on the east wing. It’s one of their finest. Lovely polished wood furniture, romantic fireplace, and…”

  Fiona clenched her fists. “I don’t think so. I want a simple room, to myself, if you don’t mind. Nothing fancy. A bed is all I need.”

  “You don’t want to stay with me?”

  Well, if he didn’t give her the ‘I’m so sorry’ expression, with his large puppy-eyes at that moment, he’d be missing his game.

  And he wasn’t. The truth was, she’d fallen for that same look at least a dozen times or so. The naughty little boy persona, who promises never to do it again—whatever ‘it’ was.

  True to her form, she felt her heart melting at the thought of his pain.

  It was the same. Always the same. She knew if she gave in now, it would only lead to disaster. She had to make up her mind. To get on with it or get over it.

  How many times could she let him hurt her?

  He could have cheated on her. He could have stolen from her. He could have hit her—well, maybe not that, but still.

  The problem with Matty had always been the same. She’d opened up her heart for him, given him her whole being.

  And he always held part of himself back.

  “Not tonight,” she told him at last. I need some time alone.”

  A ghost dressed in black bombazine with a white apron and mobcap suddenly appeared in front of her.

  “This way, Madam.”

  With that, Fiona turned from the table, and followed the maid sprite toward the foyer. She swore she could hear Matty’s heart breaking.

  Part of her ached for him. Off course,
she always would. She loved him to the depth of her soul, but at that moment she realized, it wasn’t up to her to fix him. If he wanted them to have a relationship, it would have to be him to fix it this time.

  Part of her knew it was the right decision. She wasn’t helping him by enabling him. Even if it meant she’d spend the rest of her life alone, that’s what it’d have to be.

  “Oh, for Odin’s sake. Go after her, dude.” She heard the bounty hunter say.

  Then, what happened next, broke her spirit. His next words sealed the fate on what had once been the future she’d dreamed of.

  “I can’t,” Matty said. “Besides, look at me. She’ll be better off without me.”

  Fiona walked toward the stairs, willing herself to listen no more. What good would it do, anyway? She had the answer she’d been asking for. Matty might have loved her, but he couldn’t ever really be in love with her. That was too much of a commitment for him. He was what he was, there was no good in trying to change that.

  For the first time in decades she’d have to admit it. They were done.

  “Here’s your room, Miss. If you have need of anything, the staff will appear. All you need to do is say the words ‘help please,’ and we’ll answer.”

  “Thank you,” Fiona said. But turned to see the maid had already disappeared. Looking around the small bedroom, she found it pleasant, if not somewhat small. The Victorian furnishings matched the mood of the house and that was fine with her. A large queen-sized bed occupied the middle of the room, an armoire and dresser were on one side, and an ensuite occupied the other side. Cozy, warm, pleasant, was how the room was settled. The walls were adorned with white wallpaper with tiny pale rosebud print. The floor was a polished oak with a thick woven carpet on each side of the bed.

  None of it had any effect on her at all. Pulling off her clothes, she saw one of the dresser drawers open and a peach colored linen night dress lay inside of it. Like a robot, she pulled the garment out and aching from the depth of her soul, she slipped into it and into bed.