by I. T. Lucas
“Explain.”
“I’m not sure I can.” Richard took a puff and coughed. “I’m good at putting on a face and pretending to be one of the guys, but I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I thought that it was because of my paranormal talent. I was different, and no one believed what I could do. And when I proved it, they thought that I was a freak. If I wasn’t such a damn showoff, I could have kept it to myself and pretended to be just a normal dude, which would have made blending in easier, but I couldn’t help it.”
“How does your talent work? I understand that you are a touch telepath. Do you need to touch people or objects?”
“People. Well, mostly. Sometimes, when an object is imbued with strong feelings, I can feel a faint echo of that. It’s not very useful, so I don’t mention it. Not that touching people to get what they are feeling is all that useful either. It mainly works to get what chicks want.” He chuckled. “I would be totally clueless without that.”
“Does it work with immortal females as well?”
Richard nodded. “Same as with humans. Some are really creeped out by it, though. They are used to being immune to mental tricks, and when I tell them that they are not immune to me, they don’t like it. I have a feeling that Stella ditched me because of that. She was friendly and flirty until I mentioned my ability.”
It had taken him a while to figure that one out. She hadn’t left right after he’d bragged about his ability, so it hadn’t been clear. But when he thought back to that night, Richard had realized that she’d first avoided touching him, and then a few minutes later, she had walked away to talk to someone and had never returned.
The truth was that his ability was mediocre at best, and with immortals it was almost nonexistent. With Stella, he’d been just bragging to make himself look more desirable, but with Kian, he was negotiating for the rest of his life. Convincing the boss that he should allow him to stay justified a little exaggeration.
Or a lot.
Kian frowned. “Do you read thoughts? Or is it just emotions? And can you read immortal males as well?”
He was already on a roll, so he might as well keep going. “I can’t hear actual thoughts, but I get more than just basic feelings. If I concentrate, I can sense subtle nuances in mood and responses, and those tell me a lot. I’m better with reading females, but I can also read males.” He chuckled. “There is much less going on under the surface of guys’ skin. Maybe it’s because it’s thicker.”
Kian didn’t laugh at the joke. “Can you detect lies?”
Only when the lies were so obvious that anyone with half a brain could detect them. “If I’m touching the person and paying attention, sometimes I can. But if the person is overly emotional, then I can’t. Strong feelings mask the more subtle clues.”
That was actually true. Emotional turmoil could override everything, throwing off his empathic ability in its entirety.
“Being able to tell truth from lie is a useful talent. My brother-in-law can do that, but I need to ask him if he has also noticed that strong feelings interfere with his readings.” Kian took a puff on his cigarillo. “I will induce you. But as for your request to stay on as a human, I can’t grant it, and it’s not because I have anything against humans. In the long run, your life will be better among your own people. You can get married, have children, and live a full life.”
“I can do that here as well. And I will make it worth your while. I’m a hard worker, and whatever task you assign to me, I will fulfill it with utmost dedication.”
That wasn’t an exaggeration.
Richard was ready to do whatever it took to prove himself as a valuable member of the clan.
Kian chuckled. “Are you talking about your stud services? I heard that you’ve gotten tired of that.”
Damn, now probably the entire village was talking about the human who couldn’t keep up.
“I took a short reprieve, but that doesn’t mean that I want to stop.” He would if his welcome wasn’t dependent on his gigolo services. “I admit that the stamina of immortal females is challenging, but I’m doing my best.”
“I’m sure you are. My comment was meant as a joke, not as a jab at you. Forgive me if that was insensitive of me.”
Richard eyed Kian suspiciously. Had he just mocked him again? Or had he really apologized?
Who was this man, and what had he done with Kian the grouch?
The guy must have enjoyed a very pleasant evening to sound so reasonable. The other possible explanation was that those cigarillos of his contained something other than tobacco.
“I don’t get easily offended.” Richard leaned forward. “Let’s be honest, Kian. It’s not just about fun and games. You and your people have a fertility problem, and I’m willing to help out as much as I can. Since sex between clan members is prohibited anyway, it doesn’t matter if many of the children will be mine. It’s a win-win situation. I get to stay as a human and spread my fertile seed around. With Merlin’s potions helping the ladies conceive, you can expect a good crop of babies. The clan benefits. I benefit. So, what’s the harm?”
“You won’t be able to settle down with any of the females. They can’t get attached to a human whose lifespan is a blink of an eye compared to theirs. Do you want to spend your life as a sperm donor?”
Richard shrugged. “Edna said that I’m shallow. Perhaps that’s what the Fates had in mind for me?”
Stubbing out his cigarillo, Kian pushed to his feet. “I hope that’s not the case.” He offered Richard his hand. “I’ll induce you tomorrow and give you a 1-week extension.”
“What about staying on as a human?”
“I’ll think about it.”
27
Eleanor
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Eleanor carefully peeled off the dressing covering the incision on her arm. It still hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been the day of the operation. The plastic surgeon who had removed the tracker had given her strong painkillers, but she’d chosen not to take them.
After she’d been drugged to forget four entire days from her life, she was wary of anything stronger than Motrin.
The guy had charged her a small fortune for something that had taken him ten minutes to do, but at least she hadn’t had to cut the damn thing out herself. Besides, having a plastic surgeon do it meant that her scarring would be minimal.
After popping two more Motrins, Eleanor got dressed and headed out, but not before checking that there were no suspicious cars parked on either side of the street. The converted garage that she’d rented for cash was at the front of the house, so she had a clear view from the window, which was one of the main reasons she’d chosen it. The other one was that the landlady had bought her story about an abusive ex-husband who was a cop, and had agreed to forgo background checks.
The car Eleanor had gotten had also been bought with cash, and naturally, she hadn’t registered it and had no intention of doing so. When she was done with it, she would just abandon the old thing somewhere. It was better to forget about the twelve hundred bucks she’d paid for it than risk exposure by trying to sell it.
Hopefully these precautions, combined with the specialized glasses she wore whenever she left the house, were enough. Avoiding facial recognition was important, but since Harrisonburg wasn’t a major metropolis, she might be recognizable in other ways. That was why she’d also discarded her professional attire, replacing it with jeans, sneakers, and hoodies. Her well-groomed blonde bob was now a messy brown thing that made her look much younger than she was. From afar, she could pass for a college girl, which was not bad for a forty-year-old woman.
The many hours she’d spent over the years on the slopes had been good not only for recreation, but they had also kept her in top shape. Hell, she was in better shape than most high school girls.
If she wasn’t hell-bent on revenge, she could’ve moved somewhere that had snow this time of year. But the slopes would have to wait.
As the saying went, business came before ple
asure.
Catching her reflection in the car’s side mirror, Eleanor grimaced. Up close, she looked her age, and what’s worse, she looked unkempt.
But then that was the whole idea of changing her appearance. Her usual makeup and elegant clothing had had to go.
Still, she would have preferred to show up at Simmons’s house looking more put together, but it didn’t really matter. His widow would welcome her anyway because she was under compulsion to do so.
The house was only a forty-minute drive away, but since she wanted to take a look around to make sure that the place was clear of surveillance cameras, she had to get there earlier.
Technically, there was no reason for anyone to watch Simmons’s house. The guy was dead, the funeral was over, and she doubted that his widow was suspected of doing anything even remotely interesting. But Eleanor didn’t want to bet her life on it.
What if Roberts guessed her intentions and was monitoring the house?
Or worse, what if he had beat her to it and had already collected whatever journals or other work-related documents that Simmons had kept at home?
His widow had said that no one had searched her husband’s home office, but it could have been done during the night when she’d slept.
Paranoia?
Not really.
Roberts was afraid that his and Simmons’s shenanigans would be discovered. As far as he was concerned, the two biggest threats were her and whatever documents could be found in Simmons’s home. She could be easily discredited as a disgruntled former employee who was seeking revenge for getting fired, but written documentation would be more difficult to disprove.
As she drove by the house, Eleanor scanned the vehicles parked along the street. There were only two, a gardener’s truck and a minivan, and both had clear windows that she could see the interior through.
No one was sitting inside.
After turning around at the next intersection, she made another pass, slowing down this time and searching the nearby power poles for cameras.
It seemed that the coast was clear. Still, there could be cameras inside the house, but there was nothing she could do about that. Her plan was to start with idle chitchat while scanning the interior for bugs.
As soon as Eleanor parked and got out of the car, Simmons’s widow opened the door. “Good morning, Marisol.” She smiled. “I’m so glad that you came to visit.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Simmons. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Of course, dear. And please call me Bella. Now that Edgar is gone, I cringe every time someone calls me Mrs. Simmons.”
Eleanor wondered whether it was because Bella mourned her husband or was glad to be free of him.
“As you wish. Bella is a lovely name. My favorite aunt is named Bella.”
She didn’t have an aunt by that name or any other, but getting the woman to like her would reinforce the effectiveness of her compulsion.
Simmons’s widow smiled and motioned for her to come inside. “When Edgar and I were young, we used to joke that he was the beast, and I was the beauty.” She closed the door. “It was a long time ago.”
Maybe she did mourn him? After all, thanks to Eleanor’s compulsion, his widow had no recollection of her dearly departed husband’s philandering.
It was better that way.
Eleanor could consider it as a good deed instead of enabling a cheating scumbag. She hadn’t cared about most of Simmons’s transgressions, but that one had bothered her. She detested skirt-chasing men who systematically and unapologetically cheated on their wives.
It was a betrayal of the worst kind. Not only because it was wrong to pretend to love someone while having sex with others, but because he could have given his wife a sexually transmitted disease, and probably had.
“Would you like some tea?” Bella asked.
“I would love some. Thank you.” It would give her a chance to scan the living room and the kitchen for bugs.
Her superficial search uncovered none, and after several minutes of chitchatting over tea, Eleanor put her cup down, looked into Bella’s eyes, and smiled. “Please show me where Edgar kept his important papers.”
The woman nodded obediently. “I’ll show you to his office. Anything work-related should be in there.”
Eleanor followed her down the corridor into the small bedroom that had been converted into a home office. There was a large desk, a wall lined with bookcases, and a closet that instead of clothes contained stacks of cardboard file boxes.
It would take her an entire day to go through all of that.
The good news was that she hadn’t spotted anything that looked like a surveillance camera in the office either. That didn’t mean that there weren’t any. They could be too small or too well-hidden for her to see.
“I’m surprised that no one came to collect all of this,” Bella said. “Elijah looked through it when he was helping me with the funeral arrangements. He said there was nothing important in Edgar’s files, and he suggested that I move everything into storage.”
That limited the scope of her search. If Roberts hadn’t deemed any of the documents important, then they probably weren’t. It also meant that if there had been anything worth collecting, Roberts had already taken it.
Still, if his search had been superficial, he might have missed stuff that she would find interesting.
“That’s a good idea.” If everything was in storage, she would have an easier time going through it at her own pace. “I can help you with that.”
The woman sighed. “I can’t bring myself to do that yet. Having Edgar’s clothes hanging in the master closet and leaving his office the way he liked it gives me the illusion that he is still around.” She sighed again. “Sometimes, I catch myself looking at the front door and expecting him to come in like he did so many times before, dragging his carry-on behind him because he was returning from one of his business trips.” She looked down. “I have to remind myself that there was a funeral, and that this time he came back in a casket.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Eleanor forced a sad expression and patted the woman’s arm.
During the time she’d worked for Simmons, most of his so-called business trips hadn’t been work-related, but served as a cover-up for his philandering.
He didn’t deserve his widow’s grief.
Looking into Bella’s eyes, Eleanor imbued her voice with command. “You are going to start a new life, Bella. You are going to pack up all of Edgar’s things and either donate them or store them. You are going to make new friends, take classes, go on trips, or do whatever else that will make you happy.”
The woman nodded. “I need to start a new life.”
“Yes, you do. Now, tell me, is there a safe in this office?”
“Behind our wedding portrait.” She pointed at the wall.
“Do you know the combination?”
“It’s our anniversary date. November 2, 1967. But there is nothing there aside from our birth certificates, passports, and our wills. I’ve already checked it.”
That was disappointing.
Eleanor looked around the room. “It will probably take me the entire day and half the night to go through all of this.”
Bella waved a hand. “Take your time, dear, and don’t overwork yourself. Do what you can today, and the rest you can do tomorrow or the day after that.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it, but I don’t want to impose.”
Bella waved a dismissive hand. “I’m a lonely widow, and I welcome the company.” She patted Eleanor’s arm. “Having you here lifts my spirits.” She smiled. “I feel lighter than I have in weeks.”
“I’m glad.” She really was. For once, her compulsion ability had a positive effect on someone’s life.
“If you need me, I’ll be in the living room.” Bella opened the office door and stepped out.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear.” She closed the door behind her.
28
Rufsur
“What would you like for breakfast?” Edna asked.
As she opened the fridge and scanned the selection, Rufsur scanned her ass. It was a very fine ass, and since she wasn’t wearing pants, he had a nice view of it through the long T-shirt she’d pulled on after their joined shower.
“Well?” She looked at him over the shoulder.
As her hair dried, it was starting to curl at the bottom, and he thought that she looked very fetching like that.
“Rufsur, stop looking at me with that goofy smile on your face and tell me what you want to eat.”
“You.”
Edna rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “You are incorrigible. I can make you scrambled eggs and toast.”
“That’s fine, but I’d rather eat you.”
Shaking her head, she pulled a carton of eggs and a stick of butter out of the fridge. “Aren’t you tired of that dish? You feasted on me last night and again this morning.”
“I will never get enough.”
“I can hear your stomach growling from over here.” She cast him a lascivious glance, her eyes roaming over his bare torso. “If you want to keep up with me, you need to fuel up.”
After their shower, he hadn’t bothered with putting on his shirt or his underwear, and only pulled his pants on. Edna loved his muscular chest, and he loved taunting her with it.
Flexing his abs, he rubbed his hand over them. “I think we’ve already proven who’s the winner of that game.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She dropped a chunk of butter into the pan. “But you won’t be for long if you starve.”
Morning post-sex banter was fun. Edna was relaxed, which proved that he’d been right about her needing a good schtupping. If he softened her enough to let him do that for her twice a month, the days of her pinched expression would be over.
Kian should thank him.
Except, two to three nights every two weeks were not going to be enough for either of them, not if they were exclusive. He couldn’t even think about being with another woman, and hopefully Edna had no plans for slaking her needs with a human male because he would have to kill the poor schmuck.