by I. T. Lucas
“I can train you and teach you the real thing. I’m a black belt in several disciplines.”
“That would be awesome. Just you and me?”
Turner shrugged. “I don’t mind if others join the class. You can bring Sylvia.”
Apparently, that wasn’t what Roni’s question had implied because he shook his head. “No way. It will be too embarrassing. Until I get in reasonable shape, I don’t want Sylvia to watch me make a fool of myself.”
“No problem. One on one it is. Where do you want to do it?”
Roni took a look around the lab. “Can we do it in here? There is always someone in the gym, and as I said before, I don’t want anyone to see me train while I still suck.”
The room was big, but the equipment was too valuable to mess with.
“Not a good idea. Not with all this equipment.”
“No one is using the room next door. It’s empty,” William said.
“Perfect. Tomorrow at seven?”
Roni nodded. “Do I need to get any special clothes?”
“Anything that doesn’t restrict movement is fine.”
Roni stood up and offered his hand. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I’m sure you have better things to do than train me.”
“Right now I don’t.”
Surprisingly, Turner found that he was looking forward to spending time with Roni. According to Bridget, the kid was one of the best hackers in the world. It should be a rare pleasure to talk to someone that bright, and having a super hacker owe him was always good.
Dimly, he was aware that there was more to it than he was willing to admit. From what Bridget had told him about Roni’s history, the kid was a kindred spirit. There couldn’t be many of those in the world.
Chapter 35: Roni
“How long until you’re done?” Roni glanced at Sylvia.
“Five minutes. Why?”
“I think I’m done for the day. This stuff depresses me.”
For the past week, he and Sylvia had been collecting information on human trafficking, which meant that for the first time ever Roni wasn’t looking forward to starting his workday. What they were doing was important, but he would have rather been doing anything but that.
Sylvia leaned back in her chair. “I have an idea that is going to cheer you up.”
“I’m listening.”
“How would you like to leave the keep and go for a ride? Maybe visit the beach? Go to a restaurant?”
“I would love to. But I can’t. They are still looking for me. It’s not safe.”
“What if I give you a makeover? I think you’ll look great with spiky blond hair. That, a few fake piercings, a pair of dark sunglasses, and you can rock the beach bum look.”
Roni wasn’t crazy about changing the color of his hair, but freedom was worth the sacrifice. He’d been cooped up in one building or another for years. “When?”
“Yay!” Sylvia jumped out of her seat and did a little dance. “I’m going to the nearest drugstore to get the hair color and the sunglasses. I’ll meet you upstairs.”
“What about the thing you needed to finish?” He pointed at her computer screen.
“It can wait until tomorrow. I’m too excited to stay here for another minute.” She grabbed her purse and stopped by his chair to peck him on the cheek. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Close up your station and go home.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
As Sylvia rushed out with her hair billowing behind her, Roni swiveled his chair to face William. “What do you think? Am I going to look good as a blond?”
The guy shrugged. “If you don’t like it you can always cover it up with a hat.”
“Good point.”
An hour later, Roni looked at his reflection in the mirror and grinned. “I look like a plucked chicken, but I don’t care. My own mother would not recognize me.”
“Wait until I spray you with the self-tanner.”
He lifted his arms. “Go for it, baby.”
Clad only in his boxer shorts, he stood patiently as Sylvia applied the spray first to his face and then the rest of his body.
“Pull down your boxers,” she instructed.
Roni hesitated. “I don’t think I want that stuff on my privates. What if it’s a carcinogen?”
“Don’t be silly. You’re an immortal now. Besides, I’m not going to spray your junk, only your upper thighs and your ass.”
“Hey, don’t call it junk.” He didn’t appreciate his manhood being referred to in such a derogatory manner.
Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Your crown jewels. Is that better?”
He pushed the briefs all the way down. “Much. But I prefer scepter and orbs.”
“Yes, your majesty.” Sylvia mock bowed while spraying his ass. “What do you think?” she asked when she was done.
“I look orange.”
Placing the can on the vanity’s counter, Sylvia regarded him with a critical eye. “Give it a few minutes. The color will get deeper. In the meantime, get dressed.”
Roni pulled up his boxer briefs, then stepped into the board shorts Sylvia had found in the drugstore. The muscle shirt was next.
“You must be kidding.” He looked ridiculous. “I’m going to get a regular T-shirt.”
“Why? You look awesome.”
Despite being an immortal, the woman must have had bad eyesight. He lifted his arms and turned in a circle. “You think?”
Sylvia grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to her. “You’re nineteen, Roni. You look like any other guy your age who doesn't spend half his day in the gym. Stop being so hard on yourself.”
He wanted to point out that Jackson, who was about the same age and as far as Roni knew didn’t spend hours lifting weights, looked like an underwear model.
The lucky bastard.
She kissed him hard, nibbling on his lower lip and then sucking on his tongue. “I can’t wait for your fangs to be fully grown.”
That made two of them. The suckers hurt as if they were going through rapid growth, but every time he checked, they seemed the same to him. Thank God for the meds Dr. Bridget had prescribed him, or he would not have been able to work.
“Can you see any difference?” He opened his mouth wide.
Sylvia peered at his teeth, then patted them with her index finger. “They are definitely growing, that’s for sure. And your gums are swollen.”
He sighed. “I hate all this waiting. First, it was the transition, and now those fucking fangs. Why does everything have to go so slow for me?”
Poking him in the chest, Sylvia smiled. “So you’ll appreciate the good stuff more once you get it.”
“Talking about good stuff, I’m ready to go.”
“Give me a moment to put my bathing suit on.”
He hoped it was a bikini. “Take all the time you need.”
It was beside the point that he saw Sylvia naked regularly, it wasn’t the same as seeing her in a bikini. Roni hadn’t seen her or any other girl wearing a swimming suit other than on the pages of Sport’s Illustrated or online or on television. If he’d been to the beach as a child, he’d forgotten.
A few moments later Sylvia emerged from the walk-in closet wearing a sundress and flip flops. She was holding out a pair of men’s flip flops for him. “I got you these too. Put them on.”
Down in the garage, she led him to a red convertible. “Your majesty.” She opened the passenger door for him.
“I didn’t know you had a convertible.”
“It’s not mine. I borrowed Rachel’s. I figured your first excursion should be done in style with the top down.”
Roni was touched. He’d only told Sylvia once about his road trip in a sports car fantasy. “Thank you.”
She got behind the wheel, turned on the ignition, and leaned to give him a quick kiss. “You’re welcome.”
With the push of a button, the roof retracted and folded in the back.
“Let’s get this baby on the road, shall we?”
&nb
sp; Roni put his sunglasses on, leaned back, and put his hands behind his head. “Full ahead, Mr. Sulu, maximum warp.”
Chapter 36: Robert
The room was dark, the bed was warm, and the woman in Robert’s arms was sleeping peacefully with her head on his chest, her arm resting next to it, and her leg thrown over his.
Frozen in the same position, he’d been awake for hours, listening to Sharon’s even breathing and steady heartbeat while waging war with his conscience.
According to Julian, as long as Robert used condoms, Sharon couldn’t turn. But that wasn’t a foolproof method. There was no reason to believe that it was more effective at preventing transition than it was at preventing unwanted pregnancy.
Julian had suggested waiting until Robert was sure of his feelings for her, and hers for him. But what if a condom failed and Sharon transitioned without being told?
It was wrong. Turning a Dormant without her knowledge was dishonest.
They’d been seeing each other almost every day for the past two weeks, but it was not long enough to make such life-altering decisions. After all, he and Carol had been together for much longer than that, and things had ended between them.
The difference was that Carol had never claimed to have feelings for him other than gratitude. On his part, he’d been convinced that he loved her, but with the perspective of time and distance, he’d realized that he’d been more in love with the concept of finding an immortal mate than with Carol herself. She was a beautiful woman, sensual and passionate. And she was kind, despite what everyone thought of her after she’d kicked him out. But she wasn’t his one and only.
Was Sharon?
Robert was afraid of even entertaining the thought. What if he was convincing himself they had something special the same way he’d done with Carol?
Except, this time, the consequences of his mistake could be dire. If he weren't Sharon’s fated mate, he’d better stand aside and let the right man step up.
The rage that thought brought about was as startling as it was terrifying.
It had been ages since Robert had felt the impulse to kill. He despised that dark part of himself, that monster that had time and again burst out of him, providing the edge he’d needed on the many battlefields he’d fought on.
He refused to be that guy, that unthinking, vicious killing machine. How many children had he orphaned? How many women had he widowed?
Those thoughts had always come haunting him after the killing was done. But never in the heat of the battle. That was why he never wanted to be a soldier again. The monster inside him was still there, buried deep, but always at the ready to emerge in the right circumstances.
The thing that terrified him the most was that the killing frenzy would emerge somewhere other than the battlefield. Like it had now at the thought of Sharon with someone else.
She stirred, turning to the other side and pulling the blanket up to her nose. Robert tucked it under her to keep her warm.
In the next room, he heard Julian get out of bed. A moment later he heard him in the bathroom, flushing the toilet and turning the shower on. It was easy to imagine Julian standing under the spray, lifting his too handsome face to the water and flexing muscles no doctor should sport.
He was the type of male any female craved. Not only was Julian good-looking, smart, and well-educated, he was also young and untarnished by a dark past. Robert envied the guy’s easy smile and cheerfulness, an attitude only someone who’d never endured or witnessed horrors could hold on to.
What if Julian was the one for Sharon?
As the uncontrollable rage seized Robert again, he shifted sideways and got out of bed without disturbing the mattress. It wasn’t safe for him to remain in the apartment while the monster lurked so close to the surface. The best way to subdue it was to exorcise it by exhausting the body.
After a quick visit to the en-suite bathroom, Robert pulled on a pair of loose exercise pants, a T-shirt he intended to later discard, and running shoes. He wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment once he got there after work, but he was only hitting the gym.
After all, he’d used that route every morning when going to his office in the underground and later returning home. Because this level wasn’t occupied by the clan, the corridor and the guest elevators were all rigged with cameras. He had no doubt he’d been followed on the monitors every time he made his way to and from work.
Stepping outside, he waved at the camera, pointed to his running shoes, and mouthed, “Going to the gym.”
He took the guest elevator to the lobby, where he ducked through the hidden door to the other elevator bank that served the clan and took one down to the gym level.
Thankfully, at four in the morning, the place was deserted, and there was no one to watch him demolish a punching bag.
Chapter 37: Bridget
“Relax, you’re going to be great.” Turner squeezed Bridget’s hand.
She was so nervous her neck was sweaty, and her blouse was sticking to her back. “I need to change clothes. I’m covered in sweat.”
“There is no time.”
“I know.”
He glanced behind her at what was definitely a big wet stain on the silk. She was an idiot for choosing this outfit, thinking only about how good she looked in it instead of practical things like absorbent fabric in a dark color.
“You should put the jacket on.”
“Then I’ll be even hotter.”
“It’s not hot in here, and the jacket will cover the wet spots. Just knowing that will help you relax, and you’ll stop sweating.”
“Can you grab it for me? I left it over there.” She pointed at the chair she’d left it on.
Everything she was wearing was new. The black skirt suit, the white silk blouse, the black pumps. With her dark red hair, which she had decided at the last moment to leave unbound, Bridget didn’t need more color on her to distract people from paying attention to her presentation. She would look professional in the pencil skirt and tight fitting jacket, with only the collar of her white blouse peeking out. She was going to sweat even more, but at least no one would notice.
Crap, she’d forgotten about the cameras. Her speech was going to be broadcast live at the Alaskan and Scottish keeps. The strong lights directed at her would make her even hotter. Not the mention the worst part—the close-ups. Everyone would be able to see the perspiration gathering on her temples and her upper lip.
Turner came back with her jacket and helped her put it on. “Take a deep breath.” He massaged her shoulders. “Another one,” he said. “Pretend that your audience is comprised of children. Speak slowly, enunciate, and pause between segments. You want to give them time to process. Don’t forget that you’ve been living and breathing the subjects for weeks, and what is by now self-explanatory to you, might baffle your audience.”
As his hands kept massaging, Turner’s calm voice did to her nerves what his hands did to her shoulders—eased the tension.
“And remember,” he continued. “Everyone likes you and respects you. This is your family, not a bunch of strangers.” He gave her shoulders one last squeeze before giving her a push toward the stage.
Victor had made the same comments before, which resulted in a major rewrite of her presentation. Before, it had sounded like an elegant speech prepared for a doctors’ convention. The new version reflected the way Bridget talked to her friends. Simple, direct, and without a lot of fluff.
Plastering a smile on her face, Bridget walked up to the podium with her head held high and her back straight.
“Good evening, everyone. I’m honored to have the privilege of speaking in front of the big assembly. Thank you for coming.” Bridget took a deep breath and plunged into the presentation she had practically memorized.
“Human trafficking is a more palatable way of referring to sex slavery. But I prefer to call it as it is. Most of the victims are young women and girls. In Third World countries, twelve-year-old girls and younger are sold into
prostitution. Countless lives are ruined, and no one is doing anything about it. It goes unchecked, unpunished, and is rarely talked about or reported in major media outlets. Instead of a public outcry, there is silence. It’s an ugly subject no one wants to touch.”
There were three large screens on the stage. On the one to her left, Bridget could see the Scottish assembly with Sari sitting in the first row. On the one to her right, she could see Annani and her much smaller group.
The screen right behind her was dedicated to the presentation. Visuals were often more powerful than the spoken word. Bridget had prepared a number of charts, pictures, and several short video clips.
“Let’s start with some numbers.” She clicked on her remote, and the first chart appeared on the big screen for everyone to see. The next several minutes were dedicated to showing the extent of the worldwide phenomenon.
Her audience reacted as she’d expected—murmurs of surprise and outrage, tight lips and heads shaking, and even a few gasps. When she moved to the personal stories segment, there were also tears.
Bridget had debated long and hard whether to include them or not. On the one hand, she wanted to stay away from the dramatic, which might have been perceived as manipulative, but on the other hand, people needed to internalize the personal tragedy and the devastation, which could not have been achieved by talking about the problem at large.
The third segment, which she’d named ‘hope’, was dedicated to what could be done. Her audience looked excited, the sad expressions replaced by determined ones.
So far so good.
The big question was how they were going to react to the fourth segment that talked about the financial burden.
“Our long-term goal is, and always has been, to help humanity evolve by encouraging education and innovation and pushing the ideas of freedom and equal opportunity to all. We are making good progress, but we are decades if not centuries away from achieving that goal. In the meantime, we cannot watch the suffering without doing something about it. I know it’s a deviation from the way we’ve done things since Annani set us upon this journey, and I know tremendous resources are needed to make even a small dent in this problem. I know we cannot do this alone. However, I believe that if we give this boulder its first push, the momentum will carry it the rest of the way.”