Dark Operative_A Glimmer of Hope

by I. T. Lucas

  Chapter 2: Bridget

  Bridget knocked on Kian’s office door then let herself in. “I want to talk to you before Turner gets here.”

  “About?” He put down his pen and pushed aside the yellow pad he’d been writing on.

  “I want Turner to move in with me. It’s a temporary arrangement, only until the redecorating of his apartment is done. After that, I’m going to move in with him and leave mine to Julian.”

  “Define temporary. Few days? Few weeks?”

  “Probably a few weeks.”

  Kian leaned back in his chair. “Is it my imagination, or is the guy slowly but surely worming his way deeper and deeper into the clan? If he cohabits with you, he will need access to the clan’s private parking level and the elevators. What is going to stop him from snooping around? He already knows too much.”

  “It wasn’t his idea. He suggested that I move in with him, but I can’t yet. I have to wait for Julian to take my place in the clinic.”

  “How soon is that going to happen?”

  “He is coming back next week.”

  “Can’t you wait until Julian gets here and then move in with Turner? I’m sure the redecorating can wait.”

  “I could, but then it would take too long. First, I need to train Julian before he can start, then I need to be around for at least a few weeks in case he needs me. Besides, I don’t want to move into Victor’s apartment before Ingrid transforms it into a livable space. You should see it. The place looks as inviting as an insane asylum from the forties. Everything is white with polished metal accents.”

  Kian arched a brow. “And you’re willing to risk further exposure of the clan because of interior decor? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  Bridget crossed her arms over her chest. “I dare you to come see it and tell me that you would’ve been willing to live in that place.”

  “Is Turner inviting me?”

  “I don’t see why not. If he’s letting Ingrid do whatever she wants with his place, he must realize that his address is no longer a secret. Besides, what else is there to find out? He already knows most of our secrets.”

  “He doesn’t know how large our Guardian force is, and he doesn’t know anything about our other locations.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. Turner didn’t know where the Scottish stronghold was, or Annani’s Alaskan retreat. But despite the tight security and secrecy around the village project, he’d discovered where the local clan was moving to. Kian would be livid when he found out the location was compromised, and Bridget was bracing for the blowout once he did.

  Victor had promised her he would tell Kian, but he hadn’t had the chance yet.

  Hopefully, he was going to do so soon because she hated keeping it a secret from Kian. “He will know about the Guardian force when our offense against human trafficking starts. And as far as the locations, no one knows where Annani’s is, including you. That leaves Scotland, but it’s not like we have a map pinned to a wall somewhere. Unless someone tells him, I don’t see how Victor is going to find out. Besides, I believe he is trustworthy.” Fearing her guilt might show on her face, she’d avoided mentioning the village.

  Kian raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess he is, at least as long as he thinks you’ll approve his transition attempt. It wouldn’t be logical for him to betray the clan he hopes to become a part of.”

  With a sigh, Bridget slumped in her chair. “We both know that I’m going to approve it. I told Victor he needed to get the cancer under control first and convinced him to get chemo. He agreed. But even if that doesn’t work, I can’t forbid him to go for it. He is an adult, and he knows the risks. It’s his choice.”

  Kian nodded. “I feel for you. That must be difficult.”

  “It is. But what can I do? When life gives me lemons, I add sugar and make lemonade.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Thank you. So is it a yes?”

  “How can I say no? I’m not going to take away the sugar you need for your lemonade.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When we are done, take Turner to William for his parking sticker and a thumbprint for access to the elevators.”

  “No cuff?”

  Kian snorted. “As if Victor Turner would agree to a locator cuff. The guy would chew off his own hand rather than give over that much control.”

  Chapter 3: Turner

  “I made room for your things in the closet.” Bridget reached for one of his suitcases.

  Turner pulled his arm back. “I don’t need help.”

  She cast him an amused glance. “Right. Follow me.”

  The woman was strong, but that didn’t mean he would let her carry his suitcase. His injury barely bothered him anymore, and even if it did, he would’ve sucked it up. He was a rational man and all for women’s lib, but there was a limit to how far he was willing to go.

  As he followed Bridget into her walk-in closet, Turner was surprised to see how little clothing she owned. He hadn’t investigated a woman yet who hadn’t had her closet bursting at the seams. Bridget’s was less than half full.

  “Did you get rid of stuff to make room for mine?” He put his two suitcases down.

  “I did some cleaning up. It had been ages since I went through the stuff in my closet. Can you imagine that I still had several outfits from the sixties? I think it’s safe to assume those will never come back into fashion.”

  It was a reminder that Bridget was much older than she looked, and that he still didn’t know exactly how old. “Are you ever going to reveal your age? Or is it going to remain a mystery forever?”

  She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll tell you after your transition. No need to freak you out when you still think of age in human terms.”

  He dipped his head and kissed her plump lips. “I take it that you believe I’ll make it?”

  “I have to. Thinking otherwise is going to suck all the joy out of my life.”

  Looking away, Turner hid a wince. He didn’t want to think about Bridget’s pain either.

  She was an unexpected complication in his quest for immortality. When he’d come up with the idea, there had been nothing overly important he had to consider. Unlike most people, Turner wasn’t afraid of dying, and at the time no one would’ve been too devastated by his passing. Alice might have shed a tear or two, his son would’ve been sad for about a day, and his staff of independent consultants would’ve missed the good income he’d provided for them.

  Maybe some of his clients would’ve bemoaned the loss of his valuable services.

  That was about it.

  His death would not have been a big deal to anyone.

  But now there was Bridget. And his death was going to pain her.

  When he’d set out to seduce her, Victor hadn’t expected to care for her as much as he did. She’d been a means to an end.

  His mistake was not taking into account the law of unexpected consequences. He’d fallen into the web he’d so carefully spun to entrap her, and now they were both stuck inside of it—for better or for worse.

  Bridget tapped his nose with her fingertip. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Of how far we’ve come. I’ve never shared a home with anyone before.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Scared? No, of course not. I’m curious, and I’m looking forward to a new experience.”

  “Naturally.” Her smirk suggested she didn’t believe him.

  “What should I be afraid of? Do you turn into a monster on nights when the moon is full?”

  “Like a werewolf?”

  He shrugged. “Any other creatures that turn into monsters on a full moon?”

  “Not that I heard of. But I can turn into anything you want.” She waggled her brows. “Do you have anything specific in mind?”

  He’d forgotten about that side of the thralling ability. When Turner had first met Kian, the guy had revealed who he was, and Brun
dar had provided the proof by vanishing himself, Anandur, and Kian from sight, then bringing them back. It was all a mind trick. Brundar had manipulated Turner’s mind not to see what had been right in front of his eyes. He could’ve just as easily projected any other image, like turning the three immortals into chickens or werewolves.

  “I don’t. Surprise me.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  A tingle of excitement rushed up his spine. “Okay.”

  “You can open them now.”

  The woman in his arms was still Bridget, plump lips, smiling eyes, and flaming red hair. “I don’t think it worked.”

  She smirked. “Look down.”

  “Holy shit!” Startled, he let go of her.

  Instead of legs, Bridget had a long fishtail that sparkled emerald green. Quickly, he closed his arms back around her. Without legs, she couldn’t hold herself up, and if he didn’t hold her, she would drop to the ground.

  Bridget’s laughter filled the closet. “It’s an illusion, Victor. I still have legs, and I’m still standing. You can let go.”

  Experimentally, he did, but just in case he needed to catch her, his hands hovered close to her waist.

  Standing on her fins, Bridget remained upright. “How do you like Little Mermaid?” She flipped her hair back. “We have the same coloring.”

  Logically, he knew that what he was seeing was an illusion, but his mind responded instinctively to the visual stimuli. A fish couldn’t stand on its fins, and he couldn’t help but hold on to Bridget to keep her from falling.

  Catching her around the middle, he brought her close against his body. “The Little Mermaid is a lovely young fish girl. I prefer my Bridget.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet.” The tail vanished, turning back into a lovely set of legs.

  A thought crossed his mind. “What if the story is based on a mischievous immortal who wanted to play mind games on the young prince?”

  Bridget tilted her head. “I’ll have to ask Annani. I wouldn’t put something like that past her. This is exactly the kind of prank she would’ve found hilarious.”

  That was highly unlikely. Surely the goddess, the mother of the clan, was not into playing tricks on unsuspecting humans. “What makes you think it could’ve been her?”

  “Several things. First of all, she is tiny, even smaller than I am, and at first glance looks like a seventeen-year-old girl. Secondly, she is stunningly beautiful, with red wavy hair that reaches all the way down to her hips. And third, she has a mischievous streak the length of the Mississippi River. She drives poor Kian insane. He always worries about what she’ll do next.”

  Chapter 4: Roni

  “I want a steak.” Roni grimaced at the bowl of clear chicken soup Sylvia handed him. He was so fucking hungry he could eat five steaks, and it wouldn’t fill him up.

  “Bridget said you should only have clear liquids for the first day.” She held up the spoon, waiting for him to take it.

  “I don’t give a fuck about her instructions. I’m hungry and I want to eat something that will fill me up. Steaks, potatoes, and more steaks.”

  Sylvia put her hand on her hips and struck a pose. “She said you’re going to throw up if you eat solids.”

  “I’m willing to chance it.”

  Ruth pushed up from the couch. “I’ll make you a steak.”

  Sylvia turned her ire on her timid mother, who was a much easier target than Roni. “Mom! It’s going to make him sick!”

  “So what? If he wants to eat it, let him. What’s the worst that could happen? He is going to throw up? Not a big deal.”

  “Thank you, Ruth.” Roni wanted to kiss the woman on both cheeks.

  “You’re welcome.” She walked to the kitchen and opened the freezer which was fortunately stocked with enough meat to last him a month.

  Well, not really. It would’ve lasted the old Roni that long or even longer. The new Roni was going to go through it in less than a week. Bridget had told him that once the queasiness passed in a day or two, he needed to eat a lot to provide his body with enough fuel to grow stronger and better.

  Hopefully, he was going to grow some muscle over those protruding bones. He looked like a walking skeleton.

  “I’ll make you a smoothie,” Sylvia offered with a resigned expression on her beautiful face. “I’ll stuff it with berries and veggies and nuts.”

  Roni leaned forward and caught her hand, pulling her into his lap. His new strength, although expected, was surprising given his lack of muscles. During the transition, he'd lost inches instead of gaining them. “A smoothie is still made of solids. It’s not a juice. You can make a smoothie out of the steak, but it won’t change how it affects my stomach.”

  She leaned into him, putting her head on his bony chest. “It might. But maybe a liquid is easier to digest.”

  His fingers brushed through her thick hair, playing with the long locks. “Thank you for taking care of me. Again.”

  She’d been so good to him, his Sylvia.

  The girl had a heart of gold and apparently poor eyesight.

  He was a skinny, pimply teenager with a bad attitude when she’d come to him and taken his virginity. She had done it as a favor to Andrew in exchange for Roni’s hacking skills, but she could’ve thralled him to believe they’d had sex instead of actually giving him such an incredible gift.

  This beautiful, smart girl had seen in him something that had touched her heart, and Roni would forever be grateful for that. Even though he was a grumpy patient and didn’t act as grateful as he should, she’d taken care of him when he was sick with pneumonia, and now she was doing the same after his transition.

  Stretching up, she kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

  “I need to thank your mom too. It’s so nice of her to come and cook for us.”

  Sylvia snorted. “Yeah, if you had to survive on my cooking, you would’ve starved.”

  Roni suspected that Ruth’s motivation for coming to stay with them had little to do with her eagerness to cook for her daughter’s boyfriend. Lately, Sylvia was spending more and more time at his apartment, and her mother didn’t want to be left home alone.

  He didn’t mind. Ruth was an odd bird, but a good person. The only problem he had with the arrangement was keeping quiet during sex.

  Immortals were supposed to be open-minded about that, but still. Having the mother of your girlfriend sleeping in the next room while the said girlfriend was moaning and screaming was not something he was comfortable with—especially since those bloody immortals had such a good hearing.

  Hell, he was one of those bloody immortals now. Thank God, hallelujah. Gone was the constant worry over whether he was a Dormant or not, and whether he was going to transition.

  Roni felt twenty pounds lighter, and only five of those was actual weight loss from his three-day coma.

  The delicious smell of cooking meat wafting from the kitchen made his stomach rumble, the pangs of hunger twisting his gut getting worse by the second. “I need to chew on something right now.”

  He lifted Sylvia off his lap and held her up until she had her feet firmly on the floor. It didn’t require any effort. The old Roni would’ve not been able to pull that off without huffing and puffing from exertion.

  “Sit down.” Ruth motioned to the barstools next to the counter.

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Do you want anything with your steak?”

  “Another steak would do.”

  Sylvia rolled her eyes. “You are so going to barf.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Ruth took the two steaks off the frying pan, dropped them on a plate, and put it in front of Roni. “Enjoy.” She looked at Sylvia. “Do you want one too?”

  “Sure. How does the saying go? If you can’t beat them, join them?”

  Roni felt like an ass. “Here, take this one.” He forked one steak and transferred it to her plate.

  “I thought you were hungry?”

  “I am, but I can wait f
or the next one. I can’t eat while you have nothing on your plate.”

  Sylvia arched a brow. “Since when?”

  He had a fast metabolism and a limited stomach capacity. Roni liked to eat small meals several times a day. His girl, on the other hand, wasn’t a big eater and often joined him just to keep him company.

  “Since I know you want one too.”

  “Only because you’re eating.”

  He pointed at her plate. “Stop arguing and eat.”

  “Yes, sir!” Sylvia saluted and lifted her utensils.

  Her back to them, Ruth snorted softly, dropping two more steaks onto the sizzling pan. “There is a first time for everything.”

  Sylvia was busy chewing, which was a perfect opportunity to learn more about his girl. “What do you mean?” Roni asked.

  Ruth waved the spatula. “Usually, my Sylvia argues until she wins.”

  “Mom! That’s not true. I only argue when I’m right.”

  “But you always think you’re right.”

  As mother and daughter went on and on, Roni finished demolishing his steak. “I think those are ready.” He pointed at the smoking pan.

  “Oh, dear.” Ruth turned around, grabbed the pan by the handle and took it off the burner. “I’m afraid these two are no longer edible.”

  Roni cast a questioning glance at Ruth. “If you don't want them, I’ll eat them. I don’t mind that they are overdone.”

  Shaking her head, Ruth put both on his plate. “I’ll make myself a new one. Do you think you’ll want more after you’re done with these two?”

  “I might.”

  Sylvia shook her head. “When you puke your guts out, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

  Chapter 5: Bridget

  “Can we stay here and watch a movie? Maybe something romantic?”

  Bridget snorted. Suggesting a romantic movie was Turner’s latest and most desperate attempt to avoid company. But she wasn’t going to let him have his way—hiding in her apartment and slinking around like a ghost, avoiding people.

  It was time to nudge him out of his comfort zone, or rather widen it a little to include a few friends.