No Such Thing As Immortality

by Sarah Tranter

  ‘Do you have any other brothers or sisters?’ she asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Just Elizabeth.’ I thought how close we had become again recently. ‘I am twelve years her senior, so for a while I was more a father-figure to her. Our mother died shortly after Elizabeth was born.’

  Rowan reached out. She seemed to want to touch my face, but had second thoughts. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It hurts, does it not?’ I asked huskily. I was only beginning to come to terms with the pain of grief again. She nodded. I saw her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. This was not what we should be talking about. ‘I inherited Ridings at the age of twenty-seven, following the death of my father …’ I felt her stab of pain again and quickly added, ‘We were not close.’

  ‘And Ridings is your home in Derbyshire?’ she prompted.

  ‘Mmmm. I am currently dividing my time between Derbyshire and London. I share Ridings with Elizabeth and her husband Frederick, and James and Madeleine.’

  ‘Oh, my God – you house share?’ Rowan shook her head dramatically. ‘I flat-shared for a while. I don’t know how you put up with it! Doesn’t it drive you nuts, going to the cupboard and finding your emergency chocolate gone?’

  I had to chuckle and shake my head, I couldn’t help it.

  ‘No, I’m serious! It used to completely do my head in. It must try your patience … it can’t just be me!’

  I smiled. ‘Yes, they do try my patience. I have found them particularly trying of late …’ And never a truer sentence had been spoken. ‘We are in separate properties which you would think would help – but nevertheless …’ raising my eyebrow, ‘we have at least never squabbled over … chocolate.’

  ‘You must have more patience than I do,’ Rowan muttered, through clenched teeth.

  I shook my head. ‘I very much doubt that.’ I started to laugh. Why not? I said disparagingly, ‘Elizabeth thinks we could be in trouble, because we are both Taurus star signs.’

  ‘How do you know I’m a Taurean?’ she asked, with evident surprise – and perhaps a little suspicion.

  ‘Would you believe me, if I said it was a lucky guess?’ I was chuckling. She didn’t for one moment believe it. I sighed. ‘Your driving licence at the accident.’

  ‘Oh …’ She nodded, and then her eyes narrowed, ‘Are you saying I demonstrate Taurus tendencies?’

  ‘I didn’t say I did … I do not even believe in it. My sister believes me to be rather temperamental and … well; I am not going into it. But she seemed to think we were capable of having some pretty explosive rows,’ and added wryly, ‘but that the making up would be fun.’

  What the hell was I saying?

  She smiled broadly, and said in a manner so unconsciously seductive that my heart raced erratically, ‘I like the idea of that – not the rows of course, but the making up.’ She was blushing now and biting that lower lip of hers.

  Damn. There was no escaping the chemistry. ‘So do I,’ I muttered quietly.

  ‘Do you?’ she asked keenly.

  Had she just heard me? I looked at Rowan, confused.

  ‘Do I what, Rowan?’

  ‘Do you like the idea of making up?’ She was blushing again and feeling embarrassed.

  How on earth could she have heard me? I had spoken at a level and pitch a human should NOT have been able to hear. In fact, come to think of it, how was she managing so easily with our quiet conversation, with all the music going on in the background? Her hearing aids would, I knew, amplify all sounds, not just the voice she was trying to hear. She struggled with her hearing – yet I’d noticed before how she never seemed to struggle with hearing me. I would test intermittently as the night went on … but could she be attuned in some way to my voice? I could think of no other explanation.

  But it made no sense whatsoever. But then again, neither did the emotional connection. It felt like everything seemed to be binding us together.

  I realised she was waiting for a response to her question. I fixed my eyes on hers and spoke honestly, although the answer was a painful one, ‘I do very much. But it would not be a good idea.’

  I felt her acute disappointment, but she masked it well. After only a slight pause, she continued, ‘What do you do work-wise, Nate? I know so little about you.’

  ‘I presently run my property investment company.’ This was safer ground.

  ‘Property? Wow – small world – I’m in property PR.’

  I nodded and smiled. ‘I know – you work for Dynamic.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ She narrowed her eyes, definitely suspicious this time.

  I shrugged my shoulders and said matter-of-factly, ‘It was good to know more about you. There was a limit to what could be found out, though. Do you enjoy your job, for example?’

  She looked at me for a moment and I knew she was absorbing the fact information had been sought on her. Nevertheless, after a short pause, she continued to say with feeling, ‘I love my job. I’m back at work on Monday and can’t wait.’ She sighed, adding, ‘Although saying that, come Monday morning I’m bound to have the blues …’

  I cringed. How could she be going back to work so soon? I had got no hint of that at all whilst sat on her roof. How could she get from A to B with ease and in safety? Surely, she should be resting? And how was I going to cope with her back at work? She would be in the big wide world, where anything could happen to her. More pressingly, she wasn’t safe at work. Look what had happened the night of the accident – I guessed that was why I had felt that momentary stab of fear.

  I asked with evident concern, but with the depth of my worries disguised, ‘Should you really be going back to work so soon? Surely you should be …’

  Rowan rolled her eyes. ‘God! You sound just like Clare and Aunty Hetty. I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m fine. In fact, I feel great!’

  I couldn’t have her going back to work with the still to be identified ‘S’ in the equation. I simply could not. Something had happened before the accident, and it wasn’t safe for her. I was angry with myself. I had lost focus, allowing myself to be distracted too easily by thoughts of the girl before me, and I had failed to consider she would be returning to work so soon. I didn’t even know if the private detective had managed to come up with anything on him. All I needed was a name and address. Madeleine could hopefully help when I met her later … but perhaps Rowan could shed some light on things?

  ‘What clients do you work for, Rowan?’

  She spoke proudly, ‘My key accounts include Land Venture Corporation, a couple of the major pension funds … and Frey Investments.’

  The pause gave her away, but the anxiety invoked by simply saying the name of the company, was confirmation. So it was someone at Frey Investments … Frey Investments? My whole body tensed as I recalled the investigator’s report. Jonathan Martin had got a job at Frey Investments shortly after Rowan’s encounter with ‘S’. Jesus, this didn’t feel right. No, this felt bloody wrong – and Jonathan Martin had felt dangerous. I took a moment to repress my own growing anxiety. I had to deal with this logically. What did I know about Frey Investments? I knew it was run by Simeon Frey … surely it couldn’t be that easy?

  Simeon …? How could I have missed it? ‘… I warn you now, Simeon – you ever come near again, I will consider it an act of war.’ He had been there, right in front of me at the hospital – just yards away from Rowan! Heather hadn’t been having a domestic – she had been warning Frey off Rowan! Oh, dear God!

  I tried to sound casual. ‘Frey Investments – that is Simeon Frey, is it not?’

  I wasn’t prepared for quite how much pain Rowan would feel at my mention of his name. What the hell had he done to her? Her heart was galloping now and she was deathly white. Struggling to personally overcome her sensations, I managed to speak as gently and calmly as I could, ‘Rowan?’ My voice was strained. Damn, I shouldn’t have pushed on this. I deserved to be experiencing this pain, but she did not.

  ‘Rowan?’
Her heart was galloping less. I leaned forward. She was so fragile and so vulnerable. Her head was looking down and she was refusing to look at me. My hand was trembling as I reached out and gently raised her chin. ‘Rowan … look at me, please.’ Her eyes met and held mine and the rhythm of her heart calmed slightly. The pain was subsiding. There were tears on her face which she had attempted to hide from me. I used my thumb tips to gently wipe them away.

  ‘I’m sorry … I’m being ridiculous.’ She attempted to smile. ‘That night … I just can’t get his eyes and his voice out of my head. But I’m going to try harder!’

  Oh, Rowan, Rowan my love.

  I stroked the side of her face and then gently cradled it. I fixed her eyes with mine, before saying, ‘These eyes before you are the only eyes you need to see. Listen to my voice … this is the only voice you ever need to hear. He cannot hurt you again – because I will not let him.’

  I felt her fear evaporate. I knew the power of my eyes. It wasn’t the charm, but my eyes, with the force of my feelings for Rowan behind them, could not help but reassure.

  But what the hell was I doing? I wasn’t talking like someone who was going to do the right thing and leave Rowan to get on with her life. I had spoken from my new-found heart – not my head.

  ‘I hope that wasn’t too intense?’ I asked nervously, after a few silent moments.

  She shook her head, still staring at me with huge eyes. ‘How do you do that? Why did I believe you, the instant you said that?’

  ‘I simply spoke the truth with feeling.’ I would never let him hurt her, even if I had done the right thing and walked away. But the bit about the eyes and the voice? I shouldn’t be saying such things. But it had felt so right. I paused for a moment before asking gently, ‘Can you talk about what happened that night? It might help.’

  She shook her head and looked down. She attempted a shrug of her shoulders before saying, ‘He just scared me – a lot.’

  ‘Had you been working for them long?’ I softly prompted.

  She took a deep breath, ‘No, that’s the thing … I’d never met him before that night. It was a new account. If I had, I’d never have been at the bloody hotel! They wanted a corporate event arranged at a country hotel in Castleton. I’d gone up to manage everything on-site beforehand and was meeting him to finalise details.’

  She continued in a whisper, ‘But he immediately gave me the creeps. He was so intense.’ She paused to look at me. ‘Not nice intense, like you.’ I raised a wry eyebrow. ‘With him … it was scary, creepy.’ She shuddered at the memory and reverted to looking down again. ‘And he just seemed to be in my personal space and would stare at me fixedly. He would talk and stare, and there was an edge. It was as if, I don’t know … I frustrated him or something. I just can’t pinpoint it. He scared me. I think he may be unbalanced or something.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘He would say the most insane things. Do you know the very first thing he asked me?’ She looked up at me again. ‘This shows you what he was like – the very first thing? – Do I believe in the Fey? I mean the Fey – they are faeries, right?’

  This man was clearly unbalanced – and dangerous. I would never let him near Rowan again. Ever.

  ‘Anyway, it was getting really late and I made my excuses and went to my room. But I came out of the bathroom … and he was there.’ Her heart was racing.

  I was attempting to remain calm.

  ‘I asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t. He asked me to share a drink with him. I took the glass, but I didn’t trust him. I didn’t drink anything with him all evening. I don’t know, I just sensed it wasn’t a good idea. And well … it got nasty after that.’ She spoke even more quietly. ‘He was very insistent. I ended up throwing the drink in his face … and then he was all over me.’

  I closed my eyes. I would not – could not – lose it. When I did, it would be with the bastard before me.

  ‘I don’t know how I fought him off. I ended up stopping him with my knee and my nails.’

  ‘I am very proud of you, Rowan,’ I choked out, as I attempted to control the fury rising within me. She smiled meekly in response.

  ‘Then I fled like a bat out of hell!’ She frowned for a moment, before continuing, ‘I can’t believe I just told you all that. It does kind of help talking about it …’ She was feeling confused, but the pain and fear were no longer there.

  I took a deep shuddery breath. ‘Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.’ I stroked the side of her face. ‘But you are planning on going back to work with this mad man on the scene?’

  ‘No. I’m asking to be removed from the account on Monday, so it’s not a problem.’ She spoke in a way that saw her determined to end the subject.

  But as far as I was concerned, removing herself from the account wasn’t good enough. My mind was racing through a plan as she spoke. He might still be around and I couldn’t risk anything happening to her.

  I had to know she was safe at work.

  It was so simple, I realised. I would put a call into my MD later tonight to arrange it. First thing Monday morning, I would meet with Dynamic PR. My company was changing public relations firms. I would take responsibility for Gray Portfolio’s public relations for the foreseeable future and insist Rowan worked for me – and only for me. That way there was no chance she would ever need encounter Frey Investments again. Not only would I have a chance to be near her and keep her safe at work, I would keep that monster away from her, until I had worked out the most painful method of his demise.

  ‘So – is your company any good at PR, then?’ I asked challengingly, with a smile nudging my lips, and hopefully moving matters on for Rowan.

  ‘It depends on who is managing your account,’ she quipped. ‘I’m good, if I do say so myself …’ She now smiled broadly. ‘I reckon you would be a nightmare client, though!’

  I sat back in my chair and could not help but frown.

  ‘Come on, you like to be in control – a lot! You’ve decided you don’t want to see me hobble, so you don’t let me hobble. I actually get a feeling you’re used to getting your own way rather a lot and people don’t tend to say no to you.’

  I laughed. Was I that transparent? James regularly called me a control freak. She seemed to have identified a personality trait, if nothing else. Somehow I didn’t think she was being complimentary, however. ‘Perhaps … I will try to be less controlling,’ I found myself saying quietly, before continuing with the broader subject of the conversation. ‘We use Shaftsbury Communications at the moment.’

  ‘Shaftsbury? I thought they only had a few accounts, although a couple are big. They have the Gray Portfolio of course …’ She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes huge, and I felt realisation dawn. Quietly and deliberately, and full of suspicion, she asked, ‘Nathaniel Gray – what is your company called?’

  I shrugged and smirked.

  ‘How could you keep something that big from me?’ Her voice had gone up several octaves.

  ‘I do not recall ever keeping it from you – it just never cropped up in conversation.’

  I smiled, relieved at the opportune arrival of liquid refreshments, for one of us, at least, and watched Rowan look around, seemingly bemused as she took in the lights that had just come on and lack of performance. ‘The interval? I didn’t even notice …’ before exclaiming, ‘Champagne!’ with a huge grin on her face. ‘I love champagne!’

  I adeptly opened the bottle and poured a full glass, which I handed to her. I poured myself a token amount, looking away to grimace. I didn’t get on with bubbles. For a moment, the thought of warm bubbly blood made my skin crawl.

  Rowan raised her eyebrows and said playfully, ‘Are you trying to get me drunk, Nathaniel Gray?’

  ‘Do you think I would do that, Rowan?’ I asked, equally playfully. I found talking with Rowan so easy and was astounded at how out of character I seemed to be, yet … how natural it felt. I felt I had no need of defences around her.

  ‘You know, I’
m still reeling about Gray Portfolio.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ I said, absorbed by watching her lips drink from the champagne flute. A vampire should not have been capable of the thought I was currently having. That old chestnut, blood, hadn’t entered into it.

  ‘So, it’s obviously a family business?’

  ‘It is.’ I realised I could be on a sticky-wicket, so to speak, so dragged myself away from my rather too pleasing human-male thought and clarified. ‘Yes, it was founded by a Nathaniel Gray in 1904.’ Technically correct. Choosing my following words equally as carefully, I added, ‘There has been a Nathaniel Gray in the family for a couple of hundred years.’

  ‘Wow,’ she said, sipping more champagne. She sounded rueful when she said, ‘It must be lovely to have that sort of blood heritage …’

  Blood heritage? The terms she used!

  ‘…to know where you come from – your roots.’ She looked sad.

  ‘Did you ever look into your birth parents?’ I asked quietly.

  She seemed flustered. ‘No … Yes.’ She attempted a laugh, although amusement was the last thing she was feeling. ‘When I was younger, I did try once, but the names on the birth certificate were dead ends. I felt I was being told something, so didn’t pursue it.’ She looked at me now. ‘I’d actually settle for finding out more about my adoptive parents … my real parents. Losing them so young means I don’t really know much about them. I’d love to know more. Aunty Hetty doesn’t like talking about them much. I think it’s painful for her. She seemed very close to my mum.

  ‘Do you know, I don’t even have a photograph of my dad? But look—’ She lifted up the gold chain around her neck to reveal an intricate filigree gold pendant. ‘This was my mum’s. I wear it all the time.’

  I smiled gently, unable to provide words of comfort, her pain acting as a temporary gag. I wondered if I would be able to help in her quest for information.

  She continued, ‘You know, there’s something about you sometimes that reminds me of my dad. I can’t say exactly whether it’s a mannerism or the way you speak, or your cool hands. I’m not sure. It just … I know this sounds silly … I find it kind of comforting.’