Entwined

by Kat Catesby

  I stand my ground against the glare of his earthy brown eyes until he caves...that or he’s realized that indulgence is less futile than resistance.

  Yeah, I sound like a brat, but the past week has given me license to be. My parents lied to me my whole life and I’ve expended what little energy I have to not stay mad at them – no mean feat. My heart is breaking for the fractured relationship we now have and that’s ignoring the pang of guilt, pain and need I feel every time I think about Jackson. The look on his face as I left him standing on the sidewalk haunts me nightly. So I think I’m entitled to a little bit of indulgence.

  My burly bodyguard relents, allowing me to sit up front with unfettered access to the sound system, much to his annoyance.

  “If you’re going to hog my radio at least play something good,” he grumbles. His grumpy old-man act makes it impossible to peg his age.

  “How old are you, Tristan?”

  “Too old for you, Miss. Vincent,” he says with the tiniest of smirks.

  I can’t help but laugh loudly at this.

  “Not that I’m asking because I’m interested – I’m asking because I can’t figure out your age when you’re being all moody. But if I were interested then you should know that I was in bed with a man over one-hundred-and-forty-years my senior a few days ago. I think I could handle a ten-year age gap.”

  “Eleven years, Miss. Vincent. I’m twenty-nine.”

  “Stop with the ‘Miss Vincent’ crap, please. You really make me feel old when you do that.”

  “Well, speaking of old, Emilia, how do you know that you aren’t older than Mr. Smoak? How old were you the first time around with him?” His tone is much less grumpy; perhaps this is his version of playful? Either way, it makes me laugh so I’ll take it.

  “I have no idea. Maybe I was. If that’s the case though, I’m really am far too old for you. I’m sorry, I just can’t see myself doing the whole cougar thing.”

  This time I get a genuine smile from him and he looks younger and better for it.

  “You know, when you’re not having a tantrum, you’re actually quite funny. You’re a laugh to be around and very smart so take my advice, don’t withdraw again. College can be the best years of your life and if you let people in, you’ll make some amazing friends,” he says kindly, without any condescension. “And don’t worry; my team and I will be close by if you need us again. I’ve been instructed to have regular contact with Matron Price and I have to hear from you at least once a week. I’ve put my number in your phone – you don’t always need to call me, although it’s preferable, I will accept a text message.”

  I didn’t even bother trying to argue this arrangement with my parents. Having used my security detail once only confirmed to them that their presence was necessary and honestly, having depended on them once has made the idea of having them there more palatable.

  Chapter Eleven

  FOUR YEARS LATER

  Tristan was right.

  I’ll never admit it to his face, but when I dropped my guard and let people in, college was amazing.

  He’d barely left my room that first day when a lively, petite package of short blond hair waltzed into my room and introduced herself as Dee. One of the first things I’d noticed about my new sorority was that no one wore contacts to hide their eyes and Dee Lauren had pale silver eyes with a flash of ice blue; startling but beautiful.

  Dee has a personality much larger than her short stature, a wry sense of humor that frequently makes my cheeks hurt and my eyes tear from laughter, and a caring and patient nature.

  We became fast and inseparable friends and even minored in the same subject, Biology.

  Once I discovered what I was, it sparked a new interest to understand the fundamental biological differences between humans and supernaturals. Dee felt the same and it was nice to study something of my choice as I found economics hard to stay motivated with.

  Between the hectic timetable of official classes and sorority-based study, Dee and I did manage to find some downtime. On those occasions, we mostly only had enough energy left to order pizza and listen to music whilst sprawled across my room. The college classes were intellectually draining and the sorority study was physically and emotionally exhausting.

  Over the last four years, we had to attend weekly sessions with Matron Price, who doubled as a counselor to ensure mental stability and to make sure we were coping.

  She wasn’t wrong when she said it was hard to wrap your head around the changes your body goes through, and on a number of occasions, the sessions with her were essential just to let off steam and cry, which she assured me was normal. She was also right when she said the first phase of symptoms would pass; not long after moving to Columbia the annoying nausea was long gone.

  We were also required to attend a sort of ‘supernatural history’ class, but thanks to Jackson, there wasn’t much I didn’t already know.

  One thing I did learn though, was that Guardians can’t create new Guardians, we’re all born.

  We also underwent rigorous physical training designed to keep us safe until we reach our Prime and immortality is set. There was also a belief that a stronger body made it easier to weather the changes of maturity and control your new abilities. We were taught self-defense, which I loved, and yoga to help keep the body supple and the mind relaxed - I didn’t like those classes as much.

  There were sessions designed to teach us restraint with our new strengths whilst showing us how to unleash them effectively.

  We all developed heightened senses; sight, smell, and hearing, as well as physical strength and speed with an almost disturbing level of grace and agility. We can heal rapidly from an injury and a few of us developed more unique gifts.

  By the time we entered our senior year, Dee could make herself invisible for short bursts of time and I had developed mild telekinesis. I couldn’t move people or levitate myself like other Guardians with this skill could, although there was still hope that my skills would develop further, moving inanimate objects was really quite simple.

  Obviously, these skills were only to be used inside the sorority…unless Dee was present and could make us both invisible. Her gift worked almost like a bubble or force field that once she cocooned herself inside, no one could see her. She was able to stretch this bubble around whatever she was touching and I was ecstatic when she figured out how to stretch it around a body taller than her…it meant we could sneak up and prank the first years undetected.

  Of course, the fact that no one ever saw these sorority crimes being committed significantly shrank the suspect pool…to just Dee and me. Thankfully, Guardians have a sense of humor and we were never in any real trouble.

  I maintained my required contact with my security team and even went as far as to meet up with Tristan for lunch or takeout every two to three weeks. He said it wasn’t necessary, but I got the impression it alleviated the boredom – I was his sole priority, which must’ve been dull because, after Dartmouth, I never needed them.

  Hanging out with him was surprisingly fun and I wanted to know him better; I suspected that wherever dad’s business empire eventually took me, he would have to go with me, so it made sense to build a friendship of sorts.

  With Dee’s help, we even planned a small but wickedly fun surprise thirtieth birthday party for him. That was when the last of the barriers went down between us and he never called me ‘Miss Vincent’ again or tried to brush off our lunch/takeout quasi-dates.

  Dee developed a crush on him, not that he noticed as she was rubbish at flirting…and I suspected he didn’t like girls as young as us anyway.

  I started bringing her to our catch-up sessions anyway so that she could swoon – in her unique way that didn’t look like swooning at all – over his rugged good looks and gruff charm.

  He looked so tough and she was so petite that on first glances alone it was a funny mismatch in which you’d assume he’d break her…but Dee was a scrappy little hard-ass beneath her sweet-as-pie
exterior. On the few occasions he came to watch our self-defense classes, with our increased strength, Dee gave him a run for his money when he agreed to spar with her. He still pinned her to the floor…he was tough for a human.

  This made me feel better about still having them as my security team; I had wondered if there was any point if I was stronger and could fight better. But Tristan is a skilled marksman and experienced soldier; even if I do have the edge on the strength front, he’s better at using it against me.

  Not only did our senior year involve additional skills and associated training, dissertations and final exams, we also had to become mentors to the freshman girls in our sorority, to help them with the transition just as we had when we started.

  I mentored Sophia; a striking, ethereal girl who was also completely naive thanks to a sheltered – bordering on claustrophobic – upbringing designed to keep her safe until she was immortal and indestructible.

  She was innocent, sweet and adorable so I took particular care with her, helping her find her way and her confidence.

  Once the first phase of maturity passed, along with all the horrible symptoms, my confidence returned and then some. I was finally content in my own skin and thriving in my new life, and I wanted to make sure that Sophia had the tools to do the same. Dee and I helped her to become a spirited, independent woman, even if she was still a little clueless in new social situations. But she embraced her awkwardness and we loved her for it.

  * * *

  “Emilia! Dee!” Sophia calls in her singsong voice, “Please tell me you are going to the big graduation party at Inferno?”

  Dee and I graduate in a few days, so this really is a non-question; of course, we’re going to the biggest party of the year.

  I smile indulgently at her. Inferno is one of the hottest clubs in Manhattan – it opened with a bang two years ago and hasn’t shown signs of fizzling out. After last year’s legendary graduation party there, it looks set to become something of a tradition. I don’t think I know of a single person not going, including my little socially obtuse Sophia.

  “Of course, that isn’t even a real question,” chimes Dee.

  I see the real reason for her question. “Would you like to hang with us?”

  Clubbing is one of those situations that Sophia hasn’t really ventured into and is not at ease with it.

  Dee won’t mind her tagging along with us; Sophia is easy going and a lot of fun when she’s with people she can relax with. She’s like our little sister and I’m going to be sad to leave her behind after graduation.

  “You sure you don’t mind?” she beams her brilliant white smile.

  “Of course not,” assures Dee.

  “Come by my room and we’ll get ready together, get a bite to eat and then get a ride together. And by ride, I mean Tristan has offered, sorry insisted, on driving us.”

  “Ah, I’m too excited to eat!”

  “If you’re gonna drink, you need to eat,” Dee and I chant our mantra together as we head off for one of our last classes with Matron, leaving Sophia to her own excitable devices.

  Later, after lots of music, a couple of glasses of wine and a few slices of pizza – forced down Sophia – we are dressed to impress and sat in the back of the Audi SUV that Tristan is driving, heading towards Inferno.

  Tristan keeps his eyes on the road and not on the amount of skin currently on display on the back seat. I’m not sure, but it looks like he has to try harder than normal to look professional.

  I have a tendency to overheat in nightclubs, so I dress minimally; not so that I can get laid, but so I don’t get too hot. Tonight is the perfect example as I rock black tailored short shorts and a figure-hugging halter top the same nude blush color as my stilettos; the shimmer of the halter fabric is the only way to differentiate between the top and my skin. And to keep my hair off my neck, it’s swept over one shoulder and held in place with a delicate sparkly comb.

  Dee doesn’t have the same overheating problem as me and is dressed in sprayed on skinny jeans and a flimsy backless halter-neck in fire-engine red that makes my top look conservative, the color complimenting her towering stiletto Louboutin’s – she needs the extra inches of height.

  Sophia looks amazing with her wide-eyed, innocent face perfectly made up thanks to Dee, her hair carelessly tied up and her delicate curves poured into a fifties inspired electric blue dress.

  When Tristan pulls up outside the club, the queue to get in snakes its way up the sidewalk and around the corner of the block, but Tristan called ahead and name-dropped my father so that we could go straight in.

  He probably didn’t need to bother, judging from the handshake, half-hug thing he did with the bouncer on the door security – clearly, they know each other. And if none of that worked, Dee could totally just wiggle her ass because the bouncer was totally checking her out.

  The heat and music hit us as soon as we walk through the doors; pulsing beats with thumping baselines vibrate through us as bright yellow lights flash through the crowd and pick out the deep reds and burning orange assents of the décor. With a smoky haze, it really does resemble an inferno.

  Tristan leans in close to my ear to talk over the music and tells me that he’ll be at the bar nearest the entrance if we need him. He has a team dispersed around the club, strategically watching us from a distance. I know the drill and that this is the trade-off if I want to go out partying.

  This is the reason I’m not bothered if I meet anyone or not – it’s awkward as fuck having to explain a one-night stand situation to your bodyguard. Making out on the backseat while your hired gun drives you both home, like a couple of pathetic high school kids being picked up by a parent, is not conducive to hot hook-up sex. Plus, since Tristan and I are something resembling friends, he’ll give me the ‘look’. The one that says ‘you’re free to live my life and fuck who you like but secretly I disapprove of your choices’.

  He stalks off as Dee sashays towards the dance floor, not needing another drink to get her groove on. She grabs hold of Sophia’s hand and takes her along for the ride, so I’ve little choice but to follow.

  After a half-hour or so of booty shaking to pumping beats, I decide that it’s time for more drinks and head off to the bar. I figure I’ll check in with Tristan while I’m at it before I get any drunker.

  He sits at the quietest part of the bar closest to the door, which is the perfect spot for me to squeeze into and order drinks. As I get closer, I see that he is actually smiling and…wait, laughing?

  Tristan has caught the attention of a woman older than me, closer to his age and she is actually making him laugh. These are two very jarring images; Tristan with a woman and Tristan smiling. I don’t know which is more unsettling.

  Lacking any tact or subtlety, due to the alcohol already in my system, I bounce up to them totally clueless to any awkwardness this might cause. For a moment I’m not too steady on my feet and stumble into Tristan’s side.

  “Hi!” I giggle. Without needing to focus on me as much as I thought he would, he extends his arm, wraps it firmly around my waist and hauls me back upright. Once I’m vertical, he places both hands on my hips in a very casual gesture to make sure I don’t topple over again. I don’t think anything about this contact, it’s Tristan after all, but his lady friend gives me a serious death stare and stalks off without waiting for an explanation. I’m his job, of course, he won’t let me fall on my ass.

  “Hmm, what’s her problem?”

  “Pretty girls who fling themselves at the guy she’s hitting on I imagine,” he answers wryly with a good-natured grin.

  “I didn’t fling myself at you; Alcohol and stilettos aren’t the most intelligent combination. And besides, doesn’t she know that I’m too old for you?” I smirk.

  “Funnily enough I neglected to tell her just how ancient you are,” he jokes. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, course. You want me to go after her and explain that I’m just your half-drunk charge who can’t walk in a
straight line?”

  “Nah, she was funny but I’m not that bothered – I’m working, so even if I was interested it’d be a non-starter.”

  “Why are you working? I mean, the original arrangement at Dartmouth was that I’d call if I needed anything, but I don’t need anything and you don’t come with me on nights out to the student union so why…?” I sway pleasantly once more and his hands flex around me to steady me again.

  He sighs, “You know why. The arrangement changed after you needed us. On campus, I tend to know where you are and can watch you from a distance.”

  I scowl at this.

  “Come on, Em. Do you really think I wouldn’t be watching you? I’m always watching you; it’s my job. But I can’t keep tabs on you from a distance when you’re drunk, scantily clad, in a club crammed with bodies where you could wander off and end up anywhere in the city. I need to be able to get to you quickly, so I have to come with,” he shrugs.

  I like it when he calls me ‘Em’, he’s the only one who does and only when no one else can hear. I don’t think I’d like it if anyone but him tried to call me it; it’s his nickname for me, no one else’s.

  “That’s reasonable, I guess. Though I don’t love that you’ve probably seen more of my shenanigans than I’m comfortable with…I’ll get Dee to hide me the next time I want to misbehave.”

  He just chuckles at this. “If you can still say things like ‘shenanigans’ then you obviously need another drink. I’m assuming that’s why you stumbled over here in the first place?”

  I grin and he signals the bartender and orders a round of drinks and some shots.

  “Shouldn’t you be advising against excessive alcohol consumption?”

  “You’ll drink either way, so if you’re going to get wasted, I’d rather you do it when I’m around to carry you home afterward. Where are Dee and Sophia? I’ll carry the drinks; I don’t trust you not fall over or drop them.”