by Susan Illene
“Don’t the new arrivals have to check in with Derrick?” Cori asked. Derrick was the alpha werewolf for Fairbanks and leader of all supernaturals in the region. Most sups called him their master, except those at Melena’s place who were exceptions to the rule because anyone with angelic blood didn’t fall under the same jurisdiction. They had archangels to browbeat them.
“Yeah, but newcomers get a two-week grace period before they have to report.” Melena grabbed their empty coffee mugs and went to rinse them out at the sink. “Sounds like Griff still has time, assuming he plans to stay that long—or follow the rules.”
The front door slammed shut, jarring Cori. Melena didn’t appear surprised, but only humans could sneak up on her. Whoever had entered the house was either a supernatural or a sensor.
“Hey, guys,” Emily said, coming into the kitchen.
Her shoulder-length hair was usually a solid medium brown, but it had black streaks running through it today. She was a thin girl with pale skin and delicate features, who despite her lanky size could walk with such an attitude that most kids her age wouldn’t want to mess with her. Cori was glad to see Emily doing better after losing her boyfriend, Hunter, last winter. He’d been killed when they were fighting a battle against humans who didn’t like supernaturals. That was when sups had just come out to the world and before things started to calm down in Fairbanks. These days, Melena and others at her branch of the Department of Homeland Security worked together to keep the peace in town. They’d made a lot of headway.
“Did you have fun at the compound?” Melena asked, smiling at Emily.
“I got to give a class to the nerou about what school is like for humans, and what teenagers do for fun,” she said, hopping up on the barstool next to Cori.
The nerou had a lot to learn in the year they’d been given to acclimate to Earth before they took over enforcer duties. While part of their time was spent learning martial arts and weapons, they also had to learn about the people who lived on the planet and how things worked in the world. Their program was designed so that they could blend in quickly wherever they were sent. Sometimes, outside people were brought in to teach things the regular instructors wouldn’t be as good at. It appeared Emily had gotten her chance to help.
“You didn’t have them try out marijuana or something, did you?” Cori asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Ha ha, very funny.” Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Lucas told me I couldn’t, but I did show them some videos I recorded from parties I went to over the summer.”
Melena cleared her throat. “Speaking of high school, I set aside one of Emily’s senior pictures for you.” She ducked into the dining room for a moment and returned with a 5x7 in her hand. “You mentioned you wanted one.”
“Oh, thanks,” Cori said.
Emily grinned. “Don’t I look awesome?”
Cori stared at the photo. The teenager had a serious expression on her face, heavy eyeliner, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. “You look like an assassin.”
“That was exactly the look I was hoping for, though Mel says I looked more like a serial killer or something.” Emily sighed.
Melena gave her a stern look. “People are supposed to smile for their senior pics, not pose for potential deadly jobs.”
“Whatever,” the teenager replied, rolling her eyes.
“Have you started looking at colleges yet?” Cori asked.
“Yep, I’m gonna apply to one in New Orleans and another in Anchorage—anywhere but here.” She hopped off the stool and grabbed a coke from the fridge. “Leaving this place is the only thing that keeps me going.”
Melena’s face tightened. “If you want Lucas and me to pay for it, you’re going to stay in Fairbanks for the first two years. That’s the deal.”
Cori couldn’t blame them for not wanting to let the teenager go far. Emily was a sensor like Melena. Their kind had been hunted to near extinction because of their abilities and because of some supernatural war that was fought centuries ago. Even those who didn’t want sensors dead wanted to use them. Emily might be stronger and more resilient after having a dose of Melena’s blood, but she wasn’t immortal, and she could be captured by her adoptive parents’ enemies. And there was also Emily’s natural mother, who was a less than maternal vampire that had served Variola until the Fairbanks regime change a few years back.
“Isn’t your mom in New Orleans?” Cori could have sworn that was what Melena had told her.
“Yeah, so?” Emily took a drink of her Coke. “Maybe I want to see her and tell her what an awful job she did, especially now that I know she kept me from my dad.”
Cori wondered where Patrick—Emily’s birth father—was at the moment, but she’d heard he was going to get his own place in town. Maybe he’d finally gotten it.
“You’re not going anywhere near New Orleans without me,” Melena warned.
Emily ignored her and focused her attention on Cori. “So what brought you here? Aren’t you usually working at the studio around this time?”
“I took off early.”
“Does it have anything to do with that guy who showed up at your house?” Emily asked, cocking her head.
Cori looked at her in surprise. “How do you know about that?”
“I stopped by to see Bartol on my way home.” A smile played at her lips. “I think he’s actually worried about you.”
Melena snorted. “I’m surprised he told you anything. The rest of us can hardly get a word out of him.”
Emily shrugged. “I’m just that good. And he was wandering around the woods when I showed up, so I made him tell me what he was doing.”
“He was checking the woods?” Cori had figured he’d let the whole incident with her ex-husband go since he wasn’t prone to worrying about anything other than himself.
“Yep, told me he managed to find a couple of boot prints in the dirt. Someone was definitely there,” Emily said.
Cori glanced at Melena. “So definitely not a ghost.”
“Apparently not. I’d go with vampire.”
“Well, at least that means he can’t get into my house without an invitation, and he can’t bother me during the day.” Cori was trying really hard to find a bright side to this, and vampires had a lot of limitations that would give her an edge.
“But are you prepared to cut his head off?” Melena asked.
She straightened her shoulders. “Whatever it takes.”
“Well, we’re still going to help you in any way we can, so don’t even think about facing this all alone.” The sensor narrowed her gaze. “That’s not how we operate in this family.”
Cori nodded obligingly, knowing that to do anything else would only cause an argument. “But you’re not guarding me twenty-four hours a day, got it?”
Melena sighed. “Fine, but we’ll still be keeping an eye on you whether you like it or not.”
She ground her teeth. Having powerful friends could be both a good and a bad thing.
Chapter 5
Bartol
His cupboards were empty. Bartol opened them one by one, searching for a can of soup, crackers, or anything else he could possibly eat. All he found was a dead spider in a dark corner whose carcass he had to throw out. He might be hungry, but not that hungry.
He always put off buying food for as long as possible. Making his way through modern grocery stores left him uncomfortable and confused. Never mind that the English language had changed more than expected during his century-long absence, so many things no longer made sense. What did they mean by something was “cool” when the temperature had nothing to do with it or “epic” when it was hardly that impressive? And how in the world did using a thin plastic card become an acceptable form of currency?
Melena’s adopted daughter, Emily, came to visit him sometimes. She explained these things to him as best she could, but he still had some difficulty making sense of it all. Immortals could handle the steady evolution of language over time as l
ong as they were around to experience it. Or if they went into a deep sleep for a few decades, they came back refreshed and able to take in a great deal of information at once. Bartol had neither of those advantages.
After a final glance at the empty refrigerator, he resigned himself to a trip to the store. He focused his attention on his preferred place in Fairbanks, caught a brief glimpse of the parking lot as it currently appeared, and then flashed himself to a spot between two trucks where he wouldn’t be noticed. Thankfully, it was mid-morning and not a lot of people were out shopping.
He headed toward the front doors and went inside, taking in his surroundings before moving farther into the store. A cashier glanced over at him, cringed, and looked away. While the reaction was typical, it never failed to bother Bartol. When he’d been on Earth before, women—and even some men—practically swooned in his presence and fawned over him and his good looks, but this young man today only saw his scars and showed revulsion. Cori was the only one who never appeared to notice them or care. Bartol didn’t know how she could so easily ignore such a thing, but it was one of the reasons he tolerated her visits, aside from her food. She made him feel…normal. She had no idea how much that meant to him even if he’d rather she stay away.
Grabbing a hand basket, he walked briskly through the store. Bartol grabbed half a dozen cans of soup, a bag of potatoes, milk, cereal, and a few pieces of fruit—thinking he should vary his diet a little more. He paused in front of the meat section, frowning at the display. It still baffled him how everything was already cut and prepackaged. They’d even ground the beef, though he recalled a time when they did not do that until after an order came in for it. Did he dare try making something like hamburgers?
For all his life, someone else had prepared his meals for him—either his current lover or a cook at a public establishment. The only exception was when he hunted for a fresh kill and cooked it over an open fire, which was a skill he’d learned at a young age. He’d only begun to master the art of heating soup on an electrical stove in the past couple of months. If he didn’t try new things, though, he would never learn. Bartol was getting very tired of soup and baked potatoes as his primary sources of nourishment.
He stuffed two packages of ground hamburger meat into his basket and went to look for bread. He stared at the variety of offerings with a sense of bewilderment. How could there be dozens of types of bread and each for a different thing? There was a time when one went into a shop and found only one or two kinds. He spotted a package labeled for hamburgers and grabbed it. Surely he could not go wrong with such a choice if it was named for the food he wished to cook. He selected a plain bottle of ketchup as well, remembering he liked it on the last hamburger someone else prepared for him.
Bartol’s basket was overflowing by the time he reached the cashier. He didn’t go to the man who had cringed at him. Instead, he went to the checkout stand with a female at the register. She had seen him before and didn’t act as uncomfortable since she was there almost every time he came into the store.
“Hamburger meat?” She ran the two packages he’d gotten through the scanner. “I see you’re getting brave.”
“We shall see. I may very well poison myself trying to cook and eat it,” he replied, not quite meeting her gaze. He could feel her staring at him and did not want to see if she had disgust in her eyes.
She let out a small laugh. “You’re supernatural or something, right? Is it even possible for you to get sick from food poisoning?”
Bartol glanced up, surprised to find her expression friendly. “For a brief time, we can feel ill if the food is bad. How do you know I am not human?”
“For one, your eyes are unnaturally golden and your skin sort of glows. For two, I was outside on a break once when you appeared out of nowhere in the parking lot, and another time when you disappeared after buying your groceries.” She set the fruit on a scale and typed something into the register. “If I could do that, I’m not sure if I’d stick around long enough to pay.”
Bartol grunted. “I have been many things in my life—some of them not good—but I am not a thief.”
She ran his total up and smiled. “Good for you.”
He handed her the cash for his purchases, and she gave him his change. Though paper currency had altered somewhat in appearance, he was grateful it was not so much that he couldn’t handle the differences—as long as he steered away from credit cards.
“Have a good day,” she said as Bartol took hold of his bags, then gave him a wink. “Just cook the meat until it’s brown, and you’ll be okay.”
“Thank you. I will try that.”
He nodded at her and made his way out of the store. Outside, a mother and two children—a boy and girl—were walking across the parking lot coming straight for him. The boy gawked at Bartol and pointed. “Mommy, look. That man’s face is half melted.”
The mother glanced at him, horror filling her features. “Shh, you shouldn’t say such things.”
Her daughter buried her face into her leg and cried.
The woman grabbed her kids and gave Bartol a wide berth as she made her way to the entrance. He stood frozen for a moment, loathing himself for upsetting children. There had been a time when he loved kids, and they loved him. Now they looked at him as if he were a crazed animal or something. The experience made him sick to his stomach.
Not caring if anyone saw him disappear, he flashed to his home. The world around him moved by in a kaleidoscope of colors, and a moment later, he stood in his kitchen. It was warm and welcoming after his trip. Bartol recognized that his cabin might not be anything luxurious, but at least he could be comfortable in it. If he could find a way to avoid going into town again, he would do it. It seemed as if every time he went out something happened.
Bartol quickly put away his groceries, leaving out an apple to chew on while surveying the kitchen. He noted a bit of dust on top of his refrigerator. It had been a few days since he’d performed a thorough cleaning of his home, so it was about time he did it again. Once he finished, he could heat up a more proper meal.
After finishing his fruit, he tossed the core in the garbage. Then he took a washcloth from one of his kitchen drawers, moistened it, and started wiping down every surface. After that, he swept the floors and mopped them, noting that the wax he’d put on the wood recently still appeared unmarred and shiny. All his busy work took up no more than an hour. Bartol washed his hands and heated some soup. He’d worked up enough of an appetite that he consumed the large bowl in less than five minutes. There was nothing left to do after that, and he wasn’t tired enough to take a nap as he often did after eating.
An image of Cori entered his mind, and he recalled the attack from two nights ago. He’d found a few boot prints near the area where she claimed her assailant had been lurking in the woods, but there’d been no other sign of his presence or where he went from there. It was highly likely that if he came once, though, he would return.
There was something else that bothered him. The fear in Cori’s eyes hadn’t been for a stranger, but rather for someone she knew and had not expected to see. It annoyed Bartol that she would not tell him anything more about the man. If he had any sense at all, he would do as she asked and stay out of it. Yet he’d never seen the human woman frightened of anything, and he found himself bothered by the idea of her coming to harm. She might annoy him at every turn, but that did not stop him from feeling a certain level of protectiveness for her.
Deciding on a course of action, Bartol turned himself invisible and flashed into the woods near Cori’s house. If the man did return, it was best to catch him off guard. Cori had left for work a couple of hours ago, but if he was a stalker it could be that he’d return to her house while she was away. He might even try to break into her home.
Bartol wandered the woods, searching for any sign of the man’s return. There were no new boot prints, and he didn’t find any of the brush disturbed. Could this person have been supernatural? Without getting
the full story from Cori, he had little to go on.
He let out a growl of frustration. Since returning to Earth, he had taken little interest in anything, but now he found himself plagued with the need to resolve this situation before it became worse. Sitting inside his home alone would accomplish nothing. He might not wish to be around people but tracking his neighbor’s attacker was something he could do without having to socialize. Walking in the woods was something he did for exercise anyway.
He broadened his search to farther out. After an hour of wandering the woods and flashing back to check the interior of Cori’s home, though, Bartol came to the conclusion there was nothing more to be found that day. He returned to his home, turning visible again, and paced between the living room and kitchen. He felt like a lion trapped in a cage, except his was of his own making.
Bartol’s gaze fell on the cell phone sitting on the side table by his front door. It was still attached to a charger just as it had been since Lucas gave it to him several months ago. He had a general idea of how to use it courtesy of Emily’s instructions, but he’d never had anyone to call, and the strange device made him nervous. Telephones had changed quite a lot in the past hundred years. It was as if the world had conspired against him while he was away to ensure he’d feel as out of place and bewildered as possible once he returned.
But something inside him was changing. He didn’t want to sit around his house all day with nothing to do other than clean, sleep, or eat. And though he might not wish to stray far, Lucas had given him another option. Bartol could help with the nerou, who were likely as lost in this world as him.
He picked up the phone, detached it from the cord, and pushed the button at the top. The screen lit up, and he entered his passcode. It was the year he was born with a zero in front—0210. He’d heard using significant dates was a bad idea, but no one knew the precise time of his birth except him, and perhaps the archangels. Even Melena could only estimate his age to within a couple of decades with her sensor abilities.