by I. T. Lucas
At the top of the list, the words PHONE CHARGER were typed in capital letters. Without fail, Eva always forgot to pack it and had to buy a new one at the airport.
“Did Sharon say when she’d be back?” Eva hated to leave without saying goodbye.
Tessa smirked. “She’ll be here. Don’t worry. She knows you want a hug before getting on a plane. And Nick is going to drive you to the airport.”
“Good.”
Instead of obsessing about leaving her “kids” home alone, she should be excited about visiting Rio after all that time.
Eva hadn’t been back since pulling the clever maneuver almost seven years ago, leading whoever was after her all the way to Brazil, only to discover that her trail ended there. She’d gotten on a plane to Rio with her real passport as Eva Vega, but had returned to the States with a fake one. And the best part? All expenses had been paid by her paranoid client.
Lucky for her, the man who’d been in charge of producing the good stuff for the government back in her days was still alive. She’d approached him as Eva’s daughter and told him a sad story about an abusive ex-husband who was after her. Having had had a huge crush on Eva when she was still with the DEA, the guy couldn’t refuse a plea from a daughter that looked like her identical twin. He’d supplied Eva with several fake identities that were good for international travel at a bargain price.
Finished packing her suitcase, Eva threw the charger into her large satchel so she wouldn’t forget it later. Her various passports, as well as other documents, were locked in a safe behind the mirror in her bedroom. She pulled them out, trying to remember which one she’d given Tessa to make the reservations. Veronica Soren? Melinda Bechek? Or was it Rachel Daigle?
The office was located at the front of the house, but instead of walking over, she dialed Tessa’s number. “Who am I this time?”
Tessa chuckled. “I don’t know how you do what you do with such a shitty memory. You’re Melinda Bechek.”
“Thanks a lot. I give you compliments, and this is what I get back,” she teased.
“Yeah, yeah. You know I love you. Sharon and Nick are back.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
Eva closed the suitcase and hefted it off the bed down to the floor. Thankfully, the checked luggage weight limit for first class was generous. Her various disguises took up a lot of space, especially the padded one she used to make herself look old. Her makeup case alone weighed close to five pounds.
As Eva rolled the suitcase into the front room, Nick took it from her. “I’m going to put it in the trunk.”
Sharon pulled her into her arms and squeezed. “Have a safe trip. And be careful.”
“I always am.”
Tessa was next, wrapping her skinny arms around Eva’s waist. The girl was so small that she still looked like the sixteen-year-old Eva had found years ago. She’d tried to fatten her up, but nothing worked. Tessa couldn’t gain weight no matter how hard she tried and how much food she consumed.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said.
Yeah, she was going to miss all of them. They managed to plug a portion of that big hole in her heart. The missing piece that belonged to Nathalie.
Eva wanted to see her daughter so desperately, it was a constant physical pain. Leaving Nathalie had been the hardest thing Eva had had to do in her life. But she’d done it to protect her daughter. If she were ever discovered for the mutant she was, Eva wouldn’t be the only one they would experiment on. They would want her child as well. Whoever they were. She didn’t know whom she was hiding from, but she knew enough to stay hidden.
“One week is not that long. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Compared to the seven years since she’d last held her daughter in her arms, seven days was indeed nothing.
Chapter 3: Bhathian
“Hey, Bhathian, what’s up? You look in a nastier mood than usual.” Anandur dropped his tray on the table and pulled out a chair.
“Bug off.” Bhathian took a long swig from his beer. He should’ve known better than to take his lunch break in the keep’s café, or Nathalie’s as they all referred to it, the clan’s new favorite place to hang out.
It was like waving an open invitation for unwanted company.
He wasn’t in the mood for socializing. Hell, lately his dreary predisposition had gotten worse. Bhathian had never been a cheerful sort of chap, not even in his youth, but he hadn’t been grim. That first turn for the worse had come about thirty-one years ago when he’d let Eva slip from in between his fingers. Then six months ago, when he’d finally gotten a thread of information about her and followed it all the way to Rio, his hopes of getting her back had been shattered. Her trail ended there.
The woman was very good at running and hiding, leading him and whoever else she believed was after her to a dead end.
The sad part was that Eva was running from phantom shadows produced by her own mind. Not that Bhathian could fault her for that. The woman had no idea how and why she’d turned immortal and was terrified of anyone finding out, probably suspecting that the government or some secret organization had tampered with her genes.
If Eva had known no one was after her, she wouldn’t have felt compelled to disappear and could’ve stayed in touch with their daughter.
But that was water under the bridge. By doing such an excellent job of covering her tracks, Eva had doomed herself to eternal running. She’d never learn the truth about herself, and he would never get the chance to make it up to her for deserting her in her time of need.
Dimly, Bhathian was aware that he was wallowing in self-pity, but he lacked the fortitude to pull himself out of that sinkhole, offending the Fates by his lack of gratitude. They had been kind enough to let him find the daughter he hadn’t known he had—a Dormant daughter who would soon join her immortal family as one of them. Not having to watch his child grow old and die while he lived on, he was already luckier than any other immortal male.
As soon as she delivered his granddaughter, Nathalie would go through the transition.
Bhathian couldn’t wait for either.
The grandchild would be his chance to experience everything that he’d missed while his daughter had been growing up. And as soon as Nathalie recovered from giving birth, her husband was going to induce her transition, making her indestructible. The gnawing fear Bhathian was suffering every moment of every day while she was still a fragile human would finally be put to rest.
Damn, he’d been so sure he was going to find Eva and give being a family a try.
Naive wishful thinking.
Even if he had found her, he doubted Eva would’ve wanted anything to do with him.
He’d messed up big time.
After that one fateful hookup they’d shared over thirty-one years ago, when Eva had found him and told him she was carrying their child, he’d offered to pay for an abortion. When she’d refused, he'd offered her money.
No wonder Eva had disappeared and had never bothered to find him again and tell him about his daughter.
The guilt sat heavily on Bhathian’s shoulders.
He should’ve suspected that Eva was an immortal, and not only because he’d been drawn to her like he’d never been drawn to any woman before. Her resistance to thralling should’ve been a big clue.
Except, it had never even crossed his mind because it was impossible.
The idea that she’d been a Dormant who’d been unknowingly turned by a random immortal male was preposterous. There were no other immortals aside from his clansmen and their sworn enemies, the Doomers.
When Bhathian had come back from Brazil empty-handed, he’d interrogated every male of his clan. But looking at Eva’s picture, none of them remembered ever encountering her. And it wasn’t as if a male could’ve forgotten a woman like her. She was unforgettable.
As for the Doomers, over thirty years ago there had been none in the area.
That left the incredible possibility that it had been s
ome random immortal who’d somehow survived the ancient cataclysm that had wiped out their kind, or a descendant of one.
Was there another secret group of immortals outside the two warring camps?
Except, Bhathian and his clansmen had been searching for centuries, and had never found even one. And yet, someone must’ve turned Eva. She’d been a carrier of the immortal genes, but she’d been born human.
He’d seen her birth certificate.
“So, Nathalie is getting big.” Anandur put his half-eaten pastry down. “I don’t think she should be on her feet for so many hours a day. I thought Andrew told her to cut it down to four.”
Bhathian glanced at his daughter. She was standing behind the counter, so her seven-months-pregnant belly wasn’t on display, but he had to agree with Anandur. The child growing inside her wasn’t small. Nathalie had already gained in excess of thirty pounds, and from now on the growth would just accelerate.
How the hell was she going to give birth to such a big baby?
Dr. Bridget should suggest a cesarean delivery. Ever since Nathalie had announced her pregnancy, Bhathian had read every book he could find on the subject, and it seemed that it would be much safer for both mother and baby not to go the natural way.
The thing was, Nathalie had dismissed his concerns, calling him a worrywart.
“Do you think a daughter of mine is going to follow her husband’s instructions? She’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Bhathian crossed his arms over his chest. He was proud of her independent spirit, but he wished she’d listen to reason from time to time. A talk with Dr. Bridget seemed like the best way to go. She was the only one who could talk some sense into Nathalie.
“I see.” Anandur lifted the small cappuccino cup and took a few sips, then put it down and bit into his second pastry.
What was that about? Anandur was like an old yenta—an unrepentant gossiper. “What do you mean?”
Anandur rolled his eyes as he swallowed. “Isn’t it obvious? When Nathalie first opened the café, Andrew used to hang around here and help her out every free minute he had. Have you seen him lately? Because I haven’t. The only way I know that he comes home at night is seeing his car parked next to mine.”
Bhathian cast another glance at Nathalie and frowned. Her smile looked a little forced. He’d noticed that before but had assumed it was the effort it took to work long days while hauling around that belly.
On second thought, it couldn’t have been about the pregnancy. Nathalie was doing very well, considering the size of the baby, even thriving, and she was excited about becoming a mother. Her new coffee shop in the lobby of the keep’s high-rise was a huge success, full of immortals who were either too lazy to cook for themselves, or just liked hanging out with fellow clan members.
Were Andrew and Nathalie having marital problems?
Not the social type, even Bhathian had noticed that Andrew never showed up in the gym or joined the guys for beers anymore. But that was understandable. The guy had a very pregnant mate at home and didn’t want to leave her alone to hang out with the guys.
Up until recently, Nathalie used to invite Bhathian over once or twice a week, and he would spend some time with both Andrew and her. But she’d stopped doing so lately. She was too exhausted after work. Besides, he saw her every day at the café, so there was no need.
Anandur must’ve heard something. The guy was always snooping for gossip and could extract information from the most reluctant sources. “If you know something, just spill it.”
Anandur shook his head. “Sorry, man. I don’t. But I can smell trouble. I think you should talk to her. Or maybe give Andrew a call at work.”
Uncomfortable with the subject, Bhathian glanced around to check if anyone was paying them any attention. Thankfully, Anandur had been uncharacteristically low key, and it seemed that those sitting around them were busy with their own conversations and tuning everything else out.
“I’m not going to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. They are both adults and can work out whatever problems they have on their own.” The idea of approaching Nathalie or Andrew with questions about their marriage horrified him. Bhathian had a hard enough time with regular conversations, let alone touchy subjects.
Anandur took another sip from his cappuccino. “Do you think it has to do with his fangs? They should be fully active by now, venom and all. I know I would’ve been frustrated as hell if I had to fight the instinct to bite.”
Frustrated was too mild of a word for that. Bhathian couldn’t imagine doing so on an ongoing basis. If that was the problem, then it was a huge one, and Andrew needed help.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “The only solution I can think of is an induced coma. That or stasis.”
“I agree. Andrew should do it before he loses it and bites Nathalie.”
Bhathian knew Andrew would never harm Nathalie or their unborn child intentionally, but immortals often had trouble controlling their animal urges. Especially a newly turned immortal like Andrew. “They shouldn’t be left alone in the same apartment.”
“Yeah, but who is going to tell them that?”
“Bridget.”
Anandur nodded. “Are you going to talk to her?”
Bhathian pushed up to his feet and threw his empty bottle into the trash bin. “I was planning on seeing Dr. Bridget about something else. I might as well bring this up while I’m there.”
Chapter 4: Eva
“Look, Mom. Don’t you just love this top? You should try it on.” Eva turned her head to look at the American tourist.
The older woman smiled knowingly at her daughter. “It’s too hip for me. But it will look amazing on you.”
“You think so?” The young woman pretended like it hadn’t been her intention from the start.
“I’m sure. Let’s go in.”
Eva couldn’t help the envy. Hot and intense, it squeezed at her heart. She longed for moments like that with her Nathalie; shopping together, meeting for coffee or for lunch, just regular stuff mothers and daughters did.
Instead, she was the outsider, watching from across the street, listening in on their conversation while sitting by herself in a café and sweating buckets in her old woman disguise. The padding that made the thing look so realistic was worse than a thick coat, and Rio was just as hot and humid as Tampa. She wondered if heatstroke could count as a professional hazard and if she could charge extra for that.
As long as she delivered the goods, her clients never argued about any charges she added to the bill. Her prices were reasonable for the quality of work she was delivering, and she never charged extra if it wasn’t justified.
The one thing she never compromised on was keeping her identity secret. None of her contacts—clients, targets, and snitches—had ever seen her without some sort of a disguise. In fact, she rarely left the house without one.
Paranoia was a good trait for a private eye, and in Eva’s case it was doubly justified. The number of people who knew who she was and what she looked like could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
Like the guy she was spying on, Mr. Dwain Watson of the L&W investment group. Even if she happened to bump into him on the street, which was a possibility since his business was based in Tampa, he would never recognize her.
All the way at the back of the café, Mr. Watson was wheeling and dealing with his Brazilian associate, while Eva listened and took notes. The big advantage of having superior hearing was that listening devices were not needed; the big disadvantage of not using electronics was that she had to record everything using old-fashioned shorthand—but not one any court clerk would recognize. The one she’d developed looked like unintelligible scribbles.
When the waiter passed by, she ordered coffee and cake just so she could ask for another glass of water without annoying the hell out of him. She’d been sitting there for hours, and the guy looked like he was ready to kick her out.
Hopefully, Mr. Watson would be done soon, and not j
ust because Eva was sweltering and people were waiting in line for her table. She already had all the information her client was interested in, but she couldn’t leave in good conscience until the two businessmen shook hands on the deal. For what it was costing him, her client should get every last tidbit she could garner.
Several minutes later her wish was granted.
Eva waited until the two were picked up by their respective drivers, then folded her notebook and put it in her roomy satchel. Mission accomplished, she lumbered out, annoying the rude waiter on purpose. He looked like he was going to explode if she didn’t hurry up.
At the next corner, she turned into the intersecting street and hailed a cab to take her back to the hotel.
Eva sighed as soon as she entered the lobby. Bless the inventor of air conditioning.
Salvation was near, and in a few minutes her ordeal would be over. She was going to peel off the padding and take a long, cool shower.
Refreshed, she got dressed in a simple long skirt and a boxy shirt, then donned a blond wig, blue contact lenses, and a pair of glasses. Perfectly blah. Even though blondes normally stood out in a country of mostly brunettes, no one would give her a second glance. She was just as invisible in her plain housewife attire as in her old lady one. The minimizer bra squashed her breasts, so they were almost invisible under her loose top, the khaki skirt was a size too big and made her ass look huge, and the shoes were flat Oxfords.
“Have a wonderful outing, Ms. Zelinger.” The girl at the front desk smiled and waved.
Eva waved back. She’d registered the room to two occupants, a mother and daughter, and no one thought anything of her coming as one and leaving as the other.
The doorman summoned the first taxi out of the ever-present line in front of the hotel. His smile was cordial and polite as he helped her, very different from what she was used to when in her own skin or with a disguise that wasn’t meant to make her look unattractive.
Men were such shallow creatures. But then she’d arrived at that conclusion a long time ago.