by Rach Elle
The tour continued into the living room. The ceilings were massive and oil paintings adorned the stone walls.
“This was once the kitchen,” Mason said. “The Vanderburens decided in the early 1900’s that due to its natural light they preferred this to be the main living area; thus the reason behind renovating the prison cell into the kitchen. Well, that and the fact that they hadn’t harbored prisoners in centuries.” He motioned to the giant stained glass window that presided over the entire room. The reds, yellows and greens depicted a corn field with rays of sun illuminating a light blue sky. “As you can see, they were right. During daylight hours we rarely need artificial light in here.”
In the middle of the room sat furniture you’d see in any other home. The sofa was long and plush and the wing chairs were deep with individual ottomans. A second sofa completed the horseshoe shape. A long wooden coffee table sat in the middle of the configuration and provided a footrest for Alvin, whose eyes were glued to the television that hung on the wall. Off to the side sat a miniature U-shaped kitchen complete with dark granite countertops and cherry cabinetry. “That’s the wet bar.” Mason pointed to the space. “Under that countertop you’ll find all the hard alcohol you could want; and the refrigerator is filled with mixed drinks as well. You’re welcome to any of it except for the Jack; that’s Cooper’s poison.”
“Blimey, you’re not really giving a tour, are you?” A voice bellowed from behind them. They turned to see a tall, heavy set man enter the room with an activity book and pencil in hand.
“Elizabeth and Awilda, this is Bawli.” Mason sighed, “Bawls, you’ve already met Junior and Kingsley.”
“Sure have,” Bawls said as he headed to the sofa, “but really Mason, these are our guests, not clients.”
“They wanted a tour.”
“Yeah, right,” Bawls sat on the couch adjacent from Alvin.
“They really did, I was there.” Alvin confirmed the story.
Bawls leaned back and opened his activity book. “Every dog has its day I guess.”
“What silly puzzle are you doing now?” Alvin asked.
“It’s Sudoku and it helps sharpen the mind.”
“Then why are you still as dumb as my big toe?”
Bawls chuckled as Alvin returned his attention to the television.
Mason led the group of four into the next room. It was expansive with white marble flooring and a gray marble inlay. The back wall supported a beautiful spiral staircase that extended from one side of the room to the other, creating a balcony that overlooked the marble flooring. Doors lined the wall both atop the balcony and underneath it.
“Up there are some bedrooms and washrooms.” Mason pointed to the upstairs. “They’re not really a part of the tour, though.
“This room is and always has been the grand ballroom. Against this wall,” he pointed to the main wall opposite the staircase, “is where the host and hostess would sit while the guests danced and mingled.” Awilda’s eyes drifted upward to see an enormous painting she had seen too many times. Hanging against the stone, The Guardian Angel overlooked the ballroom. Even though the painting held a place of resentment in her heart she couldn’t help but marvel at its full size beauty. Mason noticed her stare. “I see you’ve noticed our Arav original,” he smiled. “More often than not during special functions the clients ask us to take it down. They don’t like the presence of gargoyles during their events; little do they know…” He let his sentence trail off with a wink in his voice. “Anyway, this is where we hold our events,” Mason continued, motioning to the rest of the ballroom, “weddings, corporate; if you can afford it, you can have your gathering here; as you can see it’s the perfect backdrop for any celebration.” Mason had clearly rehearsed this line many times. It was apparent that this was his job; showing potential clients the magnificence of the castle and securing a non-refundable deposit.
People began filing in and out of the ballroom. They all wore the same uniform representing the same company as they brought in tables and table cloths. They set up displays and diligently prepped the space for the wedding that was to take place later in the evening. In the corner a loud hissing sounded. Everyone whipped their heads around to see a man filling balloons with a helium tank. Another man tied them to strings to create bouquets for decoration. “We handle most of the preparations,” Mason continued, “but the clients are more than welcome to add their own touches; balloons, for example.”
He continued the tour, turning to the exterior wall in front of them and motioned with his hands the grandeur. The entire wall was made up of windows; floor to ceiling with a pair of glass French doors that fit seamlessly. “But perhaps the most impressive part of this space is its view; the rose garden.” Through the windows that were currently being cleaned by two men in shirts that read “The Spot Doctors”, sat a glorious rose garden that shimmered in the sun. A paved walkway led into the garden, passing under a wrought iron alter. The roses were of all different colors and in full bloom even in the chilled air.
“They’re always bloomed, regardless of the season.” Mason spoke. “Some people call it ‘Heaven’s Garden’. People have their events here just so they can walk through it. It’s our biggest draw.”
Awilda allowed her eyes to take in the richness of the ballroom. The marble floor continued up the spiral staircase. A dark, cherry banister curved perfectly with the steps. She followed the fluidity from one end, up each and every stair, along the balcony and past the doors to rooms she couldn’t see before descending the other side, down each individual step until she reached the bottom. Her eyes then drifted along the smoothness of the marble flooring toward the rooms that sat beneath the balcony. Three doors lined the wall and she crooked her brow at the realization that one of them was open.
Awilda narrowed her eyes as she tried to see into the open space at the other end of the ballroom. It took her only a second to begin recognizing shapes and before long she realized she was staring at a man.
He stood tall, looking into a full length mirror in a tuxedo that fit him perfectly; hugging him in his hips, thighs, arms and chest and flowing effortlessly over his stomach and legs. The black tux sat atop a white collared shirt that supported a thin black tie. The man was pale with layered blonde hair. He stood with his hands correcting the shape of his wrist cuffs as a dark skinned woman measured his inseam.
“Hello there.” A small voice called from the top of the steps. Awilda’s head lifted to see a petite woman, no older than nineteen, with long dark hair and big dark doe eyes. She descended the staircase, her tiny hand holding the cherry banister and her small frame supporting a fitted light blue gown. Her feet were bare and her makeup wasn’t done, but her flawless skin nearly glistened in the natural light that flooded the room. She reached the bottom of the steps and made her way to the four guests; her tiny feet lightly tapping against the marble floor. She smiled as her eyes made contact with each guest individually; and if Awilda wasn’t mistaken, it grew a little wider when she reached Junior. She suddenly, inexplicably felt territorial.
The small girl looked over her shoulder toward the open room under the balcony.
“I think that’s enough Maria,” she called with a thick English accent, “it fits him perfectly. Well done, as always.”
“Yes ma’am.” Maria called back. She reluctantly stood and smiled at the man before leaving the space. Awilda could clearly see Lola was blushing as she made her way through the ballroom.
The young girl stared at the man as he too left the confines and entered the ballroom; adjusting his skinny black tie as he approached them. “She likes you, you know.” She said.
“I know.” The man barely cracked a smile as he stood casually, towering over the petite woman.
Elizabeth stood next to Awilda in the ballroom, suddenly feeling very fatigued. She hated these episodes. She wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest, but did her best to hide her discomfort. Instead she focused on the small, elegant brunette bef
ore her. As the man in the tuxedo approached she tried not to wince at the sight of him. From a distance he appeared dashing. There was an ease to the way he stood and walked. He exuded sex like James Bond or James Dean; she wondered if his name was James. But as he drew nearer she could see a large, raised scar that extended down the entire right side of his face. It didn’t appear to affect his enchanting, icy blue eyes, but it was jarring nonetheless. He stood in front of them, eyeing Junior and Kingsley; as if debating whether or not they could be trusted. She recoiled only slightly as his gaze drifted from the men, past her as if she didn’t even exist, and land on Awilda. His demeanor shifted slightly; softening. Elizabeth pursed her lips at the way he stared at her. She had a feeling Junior was uneasy with it too. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, she could tell her shifter had taken an interest in Miss Rose.
Elizabeth was only vaguely aware of Alvin and Bawli entering the room.
Kingsley furrowed his brow. He recognized the young woman in the blue gown. She had stood at the door the last time they were here. She wouldn’t allow them to pass even though they had specifically asked to see Mr. Vanderburen. She was cold and shut them out without explanation. Without acknowledging her he looked to the man with the scar. “Mr. Vanderburen,” he began, “thank you for reconsidering and taking the time to meet with us.”
Scarface glanced in Kingsley’s direction and gave a slight, crooked smirk.
“I beg your pardon?” The girl asked, her voice ringing with amusement and only a hint of offense.
“Please excuse me,” Kingsley responded without looking at her. “But we are here to meet with Mr. Cooper Vanderburen.”
The girl folded her arms in front of her chest. “Well, that’s going to be a little difficult since Mr. Cooper Vanderburen doesn’t exist. Now Miss Cooper Vanderburen, well, she’s seriously reconsidering inviting you here.”
Kingsley couldn’t hide his surprise as his eyes darted to the young woman, “You? You’re Cooper Vanderburen?”
“Indeed.”
“I’m sorry Miss,” he apologized, suddenly feeling like an ass. “I was under the impression you were a man.”
Cooper narrowed her eyes. “And what ever gave you that idea?” She looked to the corner of the ballroom to see Bawli, Alvin and Mason trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “Really boys?” Cooper dropped her arms in a huff.
Alvin shrugged his shoulders. “We didn’t say you were a man; of course, we didn’t say you weren’t either.”
“Don’t you think you should apologize to our guests; and me?”
“It’s not our fault you have a man’s name.”
“Cooper is a perfectly acceptable name for a female…”
“We have guests Cooper.” The man with the scar said casually as he turned to the girl and smiled without showing the whites of his teeth. Cooper regained her composure and returned her attention to the four people in front of her.
“Miss Vanderburen,” Kingsley began again, “we have something to discuss with you.”
“I figured as much.”
Kingsley looked around at all the preparations going on. “Perhaps it would be better if we spoke in private.”
“Yes,” she motioned for them to follow her, “let’s talk in the dining room.”
35
The clan of shifters and their Responsibilities headed into the dining room and each took a seat at the elongated wooden table. There wasn’t any food in front of them, but Awilda still felt like she was about to partake in a feast fit for a king. The decorated chargers were even more stunning up close; hand painted with dark blue ribbons and specks of gold weaving around light skinned women that danced along the perimeters.
Awilda sat in a chair larger than her between Kingsley and Junior. She looked across the table at the man with the scar. He looked proportionate in the chair and sat with a stern face, waiting for Cooper to do all the talking.
“What do you think of our home?” Cooper asked as she settled into her seat.
“It’s beautiful,” Elizabeth chimed in with a smile. She sat on the opposite side of Kingsley across from Mason.
“Thank you,” Cooper nodded her head, “It’s been in my family for centuries.” She looked around the dining room. “Well, we should really introduce ourselves. This man next to me is Zeff. He’s one of my dearest mates and lives here with me; as does everyone else at this table. Alvin and Mason are our Responsibilities. Bawls, Zeff and I are their shifters; that’s about it.”
“I’m no mathematician,” Junior cut in, “but I don’t think that really adds up.”
“Yes, well, Bawls hasn’t found his Responsibility yet; but he looks after Mason and Alvin as if they were his own.”
“You make it sound like he’s our nanny.” Alvin quipped.
“Well,” Kingsley interrupted, “allow me to introduce the four of us…”
“We know who you are.” Cooper cut him off. “Kingsley Leon; shifted at age eighty-two over two-hundred years ago. Wife Bethany; deceased; children; deceased; has spent the last century in Charlotte, North Carolina jumping from retirement home to retirement home.” She looked to Elizabeth, “Elizabeth Tucker; seventy-eight; husband; deceased; no children; Responsibility of Junior. Which brings me to you,” she looked across the table at Junior, “Junior Cross, or shall I say Toby Pierce; shifted at age thirty-two; not married; no children; has been incarcerated in a maximum security prison for the past eleven years for attempted murder.”
Awilda’s head whipped toward the large, tattooed man next to her; the one she’d shared a hotel room with for the past couple of nights without any knowledge of his checkered past. “What?” She whispered. Junior glanced at her through his periphery for only a second before returning his gaze to the young woman in front of him.
“And then there’s you, Awilda Rose,” Awilda managed to reign in her surprise and make eye contact with Cooper. “You are perhaps the most interesting of them all. Your grandfather tried to kill you at age twelve but instead was killed by your grandmother. You attended therapy for years before finally committing yourself. Your grandmother is recently deceased and your father is MIA; you are the Responsibility of Mr. Leon.”
“You know a lot about us,” Kingsley interrupted. “Why not share a little more about you?”
Cooper pursed her lips. “There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid.”
“Oh I doubt that; this fellow looks like he’s got a story to tell.” Kingsley motioned to Zeff. “Too bad that scar happened before you shifted.”
Zeff’s icy blue eyes met Kingsley’s. “It happened after.”
“Really?” Kingsley’s eyes widened in surprise, “But we’re never changing. I can’t even shave my beard without it growing back within seconds.”
“Aye,” Zeff narrowed his eyes, “you should have seen it before it healed.”
“Actually,” Mason chimed in, “I don’t think you’re ‘never-changing’. I have a theory about that.” Alvin groaned from the other end of the table. Mason ignored him and continued. “Your bodies rejuvenate at an accelerated rate; that’s why you heal much faster than us, but if the damage was severe enough then even at an accelerated rate you may not heal completely. That’s why you seemingly don’t age. It’s not that you’re stuck as you are, but every little effect that comes with aging another day, or even another year, is quickly reversed and you appear to stay exactly the same. Cutting your hair, well, that’s just about the easiest and most natural rejuvenation process one’s body can perform. Zeff’s accident,” he cleared his throat, “well, that took a bit more effort to heal as much as it did.”
“So what happened,” Awilda’s blunt American accent sliced through the air, “did you get mauled by a mountain lion?”
Zeff looked across the table at the girl, his eyes locking on hers. After a moment he smiled, allowing his lips to curve upward slightly in amusement. “Yes,” he nodded.
“Ah, yes,” Alvin cut in, “the night of the infamous ‘bat signal’.”
“That’s enough Vin.” Cooper hushed him. She turned back to the old man. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we suddenly changed our minds about meeting with you.” Kingsley nodded. “After you left here two days ago Zeff followed you to your hotel. The next day he tailed you while you shopped; or rather watched someone else do their shopping.” She looked to Awilda. “He lost interest and returned to us. We all but forgot about you until yesterday afternoon. Mason, would you like to show them what you found?”
Mason stood from his seat and left the room for only a moment. He returned with a laptop in hand. He set it on the table and started it up. “A couple of years ago I infiltrated the United Financial building, which we all know is a front for the Dark Angel Alliance, under the guise of a computer repairman.” He explained as he located a website. “I gathered their IP’s and other pertinent information. That allowed me to access their computers undetected from a remote location. I can’t alter anything, but I can see what they see. Unfortunately they’ve upgraded a lot of their systems since; all except for a couple of units. I accessed them the other day and saw this.” He turned the computer to face the four guests. They all leaned in and cocked their heads to the side in confusion. The image was grainy with only hues of black, white and gray.
“What’s that?” Kingsley asked.
“That is the rooftop of your hotel; they know you’re staying there.”
“How could they possibly know that?”
“We’re not sure,” Mason shrugged, “it could be a tracer; maybe someone followed you like Zeff did; or maybe they have the building wired. Either way, it looks like only a matter of time before they attack.”