by I. T. Lucas
To Losham’s great surprise, Navuh nodded again. “I agree that the way we went about it was a waste of time and resources. But we don’t have to wait for humanity’s fall to annihilate the clan. The same technologies they helped humans develop will be their downfall. The Internet, security cameras everywhere, drones filming from the air, all of that is making it difficult to hide, and it will only get worse for them.”
As it will for us, Losham thought.
Chapter 8: Bridget
“Hi.” Julian swept Bridget into his arms and picked her up, hugging her close and spinning her around as if she were a child and not his mother. “I missed you, Mom,” he whispered in her ear before putting her down.
Passengers were still spilling out of the same sleeve Julian had just exited, and others were camped in the gate’s sitting area, waiting for their boarding calls. Calling her Mom would have raised a few eyebrows even in Los Angeles, the home of Hollywood and the best plastic surgery money could buy.
“I missed you too. You have no idea how happy I am to have you back for good.”
Julian lifted his duffle back from where he’d dropped it on the floor and wrapped his other arm around Bridget’s shoulders. “Tell me about the guy you are shacking up with. I need to be mentally prepared to meet the dude if I’m going to cohabit with him.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Nah. If you’re happy, I’m happy. I’m old enough to share my mom with someone who cares about her and not get too jealous about it.”
“As soon as Turner’s place is ready, you’ll have the apartment all to yourself. As the keep’s doctor, you will probably be one of the last ones to move to the new location.”
Julian shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’re leaving the clinic to me. I don’t think I’m ready to go solo.”
“You won’t. I’ll still be there if you need me.”
“Good.”
They took the escalator down to the baggage claim and waited with everyone else for Julian’s suitcases.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “What you’re doing is important.”
“The whole thing is Turner’s brainchild.” She didn’t want to take credit for something she hadn’t done. The truth was, however, that originally it had been Kian’s idea, and he’d asked Turner to investigate. But Victor had taken it to a whole new level of complexity.
“I’m still waiting for you to tell me about him.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Is he charming? Does he make you laugh?”
Bridget chuckled. “Not really. But he is brilliant, and talking with him is a pleasure. He knows a lot about a lot of things.”
“So you fell for his brain?”
“He is also very handsome, but he is not the type I used to go for. Turner is not tall, and he has no hair.”
“A short, bald guy? And super smart?” Julian snorted. “I’m going to be sharing an apartment with Dr. Evil.”
“Who?”
“The villain from the Austin Powers movies.”
Bridget huffed. “Not even close. Dr. Evil was flabby. Turner is all muscle. There is not an ounce of fat on him. He has an amazing body for a guy his age.”
“Which is?”
“Forty-six.”
Julian shook his head. “An old, short, bald guy.”
Offended on Turner’s behalf, Bridget crossed her arms over her chest. “With beautiful blue-gray eyes, an eight-pack, and incredible charisma.”
“So more like Vladimir Putin than Dr. Evil. Gotcha.”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “I’d better stop responding because you’ll just keep going. Turner is like no one else. Incomparable. He is a unique individual.”
Julian laughed as he hefted a suitcase off the conveyor belt and put it on the floor next to Bridget. “Just teasing. I’m sure he is a great guy.”
He helped a woman with her luggage and then had to chase after his other suitcase, which in the meantime had gotten away from him.
Should she tell Julian more? Prepare him better?
It was true that Turner was like no one else. He required some getting used to, and the first impression he left on people was that of a cold, hard man. He was off-putting to most.
“Turner has some issues,” she said as they made their way to her car. “He is not an emotional guy, and at first glance he appears cold.” She chuckled. “Also the second and the third. But the weirdest thing about him is that he doesn’t emit any scents.”
Julian cast her an amused look. “Good, I would’ve hated to share an apartment with a stinky human.”
“I don’t mean like that.” She took a quick glance around to check if anyone was listening to their conversation. “No emotional scents. I’ve never encountered any human or immortal who had none. He is an anomaly.”
Julian’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Maybe he is an alien?”
“Right.” Bridget clicked the doors of her car open and got behind the wheel as Julian loaded his luggage in the trunk. “You have that in common,” she said as he got inside and buckled up.
“What? Don’t tell me my father was not of this world.”
Bridget laughed. “Dream on. An illegal alien from another country is the most you can hope for.” She eased out of the parking spot. “I meant your fascination with UFOs and aliens. Turner loves stuff like that too. He is always looking to solve one insoluble mystery or another.”
Julian clapped his hands. “Oh, goodie, we are going to be best friends,” he said in an excited high-pitched voice.
Her son’s quirky sense of humor never failed to amuse her, but the question was how Turner would react to it. Hopefully, the guy’s smarts included comprehending jokes and not getting offended by Julian’s never-ending stream of funny nonsense.
“Why do you keep calling him by his last name?” Julian asked.
She shrugged. “A habit, I guess. He rarely tells people his given name, which is Victor by the way, and everyone calls him Turner. I bet he thinks of himself as Turner and not as Victor.”
“What should I call him? Because I’m not going to call him Dad. I just wanted to put that out there.”
Bridget laughed. “You need to be careful with those jokes around Victor. I’m not sure how he is going to react to them.”
Julian leaned back in his chair and let his head drop on the headrest. “If he is as smart as you say he is, he’ll get it.”
“I hope so.”
Chapter 9: Turner
As Turner waited for the heavy door to slide aside and let him into the clan’s secure parking area, he didn’t feel as if he was coming home, he felt like a visitor, or rather an intruder.
The sticker allowed him access to the section of the keep that non-clan members, meaning humans, were barred from. Not that the building’s other occupants were aware of the extensive underground compound, or suspected those residing on the upper floors, where the regular elevators didn’t go, of being anything other than richer and snobbier, residing in apartments that were more luxurious than those on the floors below.
After having been treated with suspicion and caution for so long, he would need time to get used to his new access privileges. There would be no more stops by the security station and no more waiting for Bridget or one of the Guardians to come get him. It was straight up to her apartment, which he now shared, and would soon be sharing also with her son.
This was not one of his best ideas. In fact, he should not have agreed to have his apartment turned upside down. New furniture and some colorful rugs would have done the job, and Bridget could’ve been living with him. He could’ve invited Julian to a nice dinner at a restaurant, and that would’ve been the extent of their interactions.
Instead, he was bracing for the awkward first meeting with his lover’s grown son. It wasn’t that Turner had a problem with new people—he handled new clients and other business associates with ease. The difference was that their expectations of him were limited to his exper
tise, and they were well aware of his excellent track record. His natural charm or lack thereof had no bearing on their decisions to hire him for a job or join his network of sub-contractors.
What the hell was he going to talk about with Julian?
Bridget’s son was a complete stranger, who would probably not regard Turner favorably. Hell, what chance did he have of winning the guy over if connecting with his own son, on any level, was still a struggle?
Douglas possessed average intelligence, was into team sports, and had no hobbies, unless hanging out with friends over beers could count as one. His son was interested in none of the subjects Turner was.
After Douglas had joined Special Forces, they finally had something in common. But then there was very little they were allowed to talk about, so that didn’t solve the problem. At their semi-annual meetings, they usually ran out of topics of conversation in less than an hour.
It was painful. For both of them.
And now he would be forced into the same situation with Bridget’s son—the difference being that the torture was not going to end with them going their separate ways after one uncomfortable dinner or lunch meeting. They were stuck living together in the same apartment.
Maybe Julian could find a vacant apartment in the keep. After all, Kian was starting to move people to the new place so there should be vacancies.
Which reminded Turner that he still had a confession to make. He hadn’t told Kian about discovering the clan’s new location yet. Maybe he should go to the guy’s office right now and get it done with. If Kian killed him on the spot, he would at least be spared the awkward meeting with Bridget’s son.
Right.
With a sigh, he got out from the elevator and headed for Bridget’s apartment. She’d given him a key, but he still felt uncomfortable using it. Especially today.
Taking a deep breath, Turner schooled his features into an impassive mask and knocked.
The young man who opened the door was tall, handsome, and looked nothing like his mother. Except for the eyes. They were the same color, blue with flakes of green swimming on the perimeter, but where Bridget’s were serious, his were smiling. In fact, he looked a lot like Kian sans the countenance of someone who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Turner, I assume?” He threw the door wide open and offered his hand.
Turner took it, not expecting to be pulled into a bro embrace, complete with rigorous backslapping.
Well, at least the guy was friendly.
“I’m Julian, as you must’ve deduced. Come in and take a load off.”
“Thank you.”
Another backslap. “Hey, you’re not a guest, you’re a roomie. Don’t thank me.”
“Hi, Victor.” Bridget walked into the living room and headed straight for him.
Not knowing how to act around the son, Turner waited for her to set the tone. “Hi, to you too.”
She kissed his cheek. “I see that you and Julian have already done the introductions.”
He nodded.
“I’m going to whip us up something for dinner.”
“How about we order takeout instead? I can go get it.” A round trip to bring food would shorten the time he had to spend socializing with Julian.
Bridget smirked. “So you can get away? I prefer to make something healthy at home.”
“I’ll help you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Come on.”
Turner let out a breath and shrugged off his jacket, then hung it on the back of a chair.
“What can I do?” He rolled up his sleeves.
Pulling the fridge door open, Bridget took out a head of lettuce, several tomatoes, cucumbers, and an onion. “You can chop veggies for the salad.” She put down the load on the counter and handed him a cutting board.
“I can do that.” Turner pulled out a knife. “Do I need to wash them first?”
“They are already washed.”
“Big chunks or small chunks?”
“Small. It's going to be a Mediterranean meal. I hope you like hummus.”
“I do.”
“Good. I’ll heat up the frozen fake meat shawarma.”
“Blah,” Julian said from the living room. “I hate the fake stuff. One day I have to take you to my favorite shawarma place. Real shawarma is made with turkey and veal, not soy.” He walked over to the counter, pulled out a stool, and straddled it. “I’ve eaten shawarma all over the world, and this place is the best.”
Turner lifted the board with lettuce he’d chopped and pushed the small bits into the salad bowl Bridget put next to him. “I didn’t know medical students got to travel so extensively.”
“They don’t. I took a year off after high school and backpacked all over. I figured I’d better see the world before diving into studying for eight more years. Then I decided to do it again after graduating college and before starting medical school.”
Lucky kid. Only the privileged could indulge like that. For others, like Turner, the only way to see the world was to join the army. “Smart choice, if you have the funds for it.”
“My mom is the best. She funded it without me having to beg too much.”
Bridget snorted. “He started the campaign in tenth grade. By the time he graduated he’d worn me down. The second time I told him he had to get into a medical school first.”
“Naturally, I got in.” Julian blew his mom a kiss. “As she knew I would.”
Turner finished chopping the tomatoes and added them to the bowl. “You must’ve been a good student.”
“Top of his class,” Bridget said. “Julian knows how to work hard, but he also knows how to have fun.”
Julian seemed a little uncomfortable with the praise, which made Turner like him even better. For a few moments, the sounds of chopping were the only ones to disturb the silence.
“Mom tells me you’re interested in extraterrestrials,” Julian said in an obvious attempt to veer the conversation away from his accomplishments and his mother’s boasting. “Did you read Jacques Vallée?”
Turner paused his chopping to glance at Julian. “Of course. He is the only one that makes any sense. What sparked your interest in the subject?”
Julian shrugged. “If you think about it, a lot of sightings and encounters can be explained by mind manipulation. I thought that perhaps immortals were responsible for them. I knew it wasn’t anyone from the clan, and it didn’t make sense for the Doomers to be doing it. Alien theories are not beneficial to their agenda. Except, maybe for the religious apparitions. So if it wasn’t us and it wasn’t them, then maybe the sightings could lead to other immortals? We were always searching for more survivors. I hoped this could lead us to them or at least give us a clue where to look.”
“A logical assumption. What did you find out?”
Julian sighed. “Not much. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the resources to launch a full-blown investigation. Kian is too much of a realist to fund something he believes is man-made nonsense. I started reading everything I could about it and found Vallée’s theory the most fascinating.”
“I agree. And you’re right about suspecting immortals. If sightings and encounters are indeed the product of mind manipulation, then your kind is the prime suspect.”
Chapter 10: Bridget
Julian, with his charming, easy-going personality, managed to defrost even Turner. By the time dinner was over, the two had discussed everything from extraterrestrials through to the multiverse and string theory.
“Julian is very bright,” Turner said as they retired to their bedroom.
Bridget kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed to pull off her pants. “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.”
He rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “I enjoyed myself.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I wish I had as much to talk about with Douglas. It would have made our relationship much easier.”
“What is he like?”
�
�The all-American boy next door. He is a good man, but all he wants to talk about is sports and who won which game. We bore each other. After an hour together we can’t wait for it to be over.”
No wonder Turner saw his son only twice a year. “Maybe you should make an effort to learn a thing or two about what interests him.”
He rubbed his scalp again. “I should, shouldn’t I?”
Not wanting to distract him, Bridget waited to pull off her shirt. “It should take you no time at all to learn everything there is to know about sports.”
“True. But I’ll be faking interest. I don’t like doing it in my personal life. I do enough pretending in my work.”
She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This is for a good cause. Take your son to a game. Buy tickets to some sports event that is sold out. Who knows, maybe you can find something you both enjoy. Maybe he would like to go to an MMA fight. Or maybe both of you will find wrestling entertaining.”
Turner grimaced. “Wrestling is fake. It’s all about the entertainment.”
“That might be true, but think about the upside. While watching whatever sports event, you guys don’t have to talk.”
He pulled her close and kissed her lips. “Where have you been all of my life? I could have used this advice years ago. Douglas and I might have been best of pals.”
Was he mocking her? Often, it was hard to tell.
“Right. Let’s not get carried away. But perhaps you could start afresh and see each other more than twice a year.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, madam councilwoman.” He cupped her butt cheeks and squeezed. “The best ass to ever occupy a council chair.”
“Shh, Julian is in the next room, and you know how good our hearing is,” she whispered.
By the hard press of his lips, Turner didn’t like it one bit. “Can we go to a hotel?”
“Don’t be silly. We can be quiet.”