Immortal Sleepers

by Miranda Nichols

  He’d really come back.

  She flipped open the front cover and stared for what seemed like the eighteen-hundredth time at the short scrawled message, and the corresponding digits beneath it. He had absolutely beautiful handwriting, like that which she’d seen in her Old English literature classes at BU. She’d been so caught up in admiring his cursive that she nearly missed the message scrawled neatly above the phone number, which she hoped was her new link to her mysterious, handsome stranger.

  I’ll be waiting, until time stands still.

  Every time she read it, it sent her heart all aflutter. Yet even though she’d been pin for it, she had yet to dial the ten-digit number and hear his disarmingly beautiful, accented voice. Swallowing thickly against her rampant nerves, she picked up the phone and dialed, but stopped just before hitting Send.

  She’d been doing this song and dance for the past hour, going back and forth with herself about the whys and why-nots of pushing that little green button.

  The chime of the doorbell saved her from her musings. She raised her head to welcome a customer, and instead, came face to face with her best friend. The best friend who she was currently irritated with for causing her to miss seeing Tyrian the day before.

  Far be it from her to blame herself for that.

  Ember waltzed up behind the counter, and plopped down on the stool opposite Kaelyn. She set what appeared to be takeout boxes on the counter, then cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at the daggers Kaelyn shot in her direction.

  “Why the hell are you glaring a’ me? I brought you lunch.” Ember removed her gloves and gestured to the bag of takeout boxes.

  “I’m not mad at you; I’m mad at myself.” Kaelyn sighed softly, digging into the bag, and pulling out a French dip sandwich.

  “Well, in all fairness, I was the one pouring the shots.” Ember shrugged. Grinning without remorse, she removed her own turkey club from the bag.

  Kaelyn sighed. “It’s not that.”

  Ember paused while chewing one of her fries, to urge her to continue.

  “Tyrian came in yesterday.”

  Ember choked on her fry. “Come again?” she finally managed after clearing her throat.

  “I know.” Kaelyn groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

  “I honestly thought you were making it all up,” Ember stated matter-of-factly.

  Kaelyn lifted her head, and glared at her friend. “Do I really strike you as the kind of person who drinks herself into a stupor over a make-believe guy?”

  Ember shrugged. “You were the one who said it. As I recall, your exact words were ‘body of a Grecian sex god, voice of an Old English scholar, and eyes that burned with a passion that could ignite your very soul.’ Love, if a man like that existed, I wouldn’t have let him walk out of here alone.”

  Kaelyn conceded the point, shaking her head at her own boundless insecurities. “Well, apparently he is real, and he has a phone number, which he wrote in the book I sold him, that he left with Oscar yesterday,” she admitted.

  Ember pinned her with an expectant stare.

  “Yes? So? And?” she prodded.

  Kaelyn shook her head at the rapid-fire questioning. “What do you mean?”

  Ember rolled her eyes in annoyance. “What’d he say when you called him?”

  Kaelyn looked away. “I haven’t called him.”

  Ember struck the glass counter with her hand.

  “Wha’d you mean you haven’t called him?” she demanded, pinning Kaelyn with an uncomfortably scrutinizing glare.

  Kaelyn squirmed as she searched for a less-than-completely-incriminating answer. “I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  Oh yeah, the greatest noncommittal answer of all time. Not to mention a blatant lie. She’d dialed the number at least a hundred times already, just failed to actually connect the call. Jeez, if she wasn’t an absolute mess.

  “Give it to me.” Ember held out her hand.

  Kaelyn sat back in her chair, glancing apprehensively at the outstretched appendage. “What?”

  “The phone. Give it to me. I know you’ve dialed the number at least a dozen times already. If you won’t call him, I will.” Ember wiggled her fingers expectantly.

  Clutching the phone to her chest, Kaelyn backed away hurriedly. “No! I’ll do it; I just need a minute.” She relaxed slightly in consideration.

  Reaching out with lightning-fast reflexes, Ember grabbed the phone from Kaelyn’s hand and pressed the send button. She tossed the phone back to the woman with a grin. Kaelyn alternated between glancing at the phone in her lap and the bartender next to her in apt disbelief.

  “Go on, before he answers.” Ember motioned for her to put the phone to her ear. She fumbled with the device, and somehow managed to get it up to her ear just as a voice answered on the other end.

  “Hello,” an American-accented voice sounded, throwing her off for a second.

  “Um, h-hello, is this Tyrian’s residence?” she asked.

  After a moment, the voice slowly replied in a guarded tone, “Who’s asking?”

  She cleared her throat. “My name is Kaelyn Hamblin. Tyrian left his phone number in a book I sold him last week. If—”

  A loud thump sounded from the other end, followed swiftly by a yelp. Tyrian’s familiar lilt flowed through the speaker a moment later, relaxing her nerves almost instantly. “Kaelyn?” She smiled at the way he said her name.

  “Yes?” She could almost hear the relief in his voice, surely mirrored in her own.

  The sound of a door closing in the background preceded his response, and she silently wished that she were also alone.

  “I’d hoped you’d call,” Tyrian confessed, bringing another smile to her lips.

  “I was sorry to hear that I’d missed you yesterday. Have you been busy?” She wondered what had taken the man so long to return to the bookshop.

  “I was out of town on business all last week. I apologize if my absence caused you any worry. Had I been able, I would have contacted you much sooner.”

  She heard sincere remorse in his voice, and she suddenly found herself tripping to reassure him. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Everything happened so fast. I thought perhaps you were indisposed.” She swatted her hand at Ember as the woman rolled her eyes.

  “You thought perhaps he was a hallucination,” Ember taunted. She tossed a French fry at Kaelyn, who stuck her tongue out at the woman.

  “You have a friend there?” Tyrian asked.

  Kaelyn silently cursed Ember for not keeping her mouth shut. “Yes. My friend Ember brought me lunch.” She didn’t really want to spend their time talking about her overzealous friend.

  “I see. Please offer her my gratitude for taking care of you while you were feeling under the weather yesterday,” came Tyrian’s reply, his tone lightly laced with amusement.

  Kaelyn’s jaw dropped. How in the world had he known that?

  Oscar.

  The old man must have told Tyrian why she’d been out the day before. Well, wasn’t that just great? As if she needed any more help embarrassing herself. Somehow the idea of him knowing that she’d gotten drunk made her want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

  She must have voiced her displeasure, because Tyrian’s laughter suddenly encompassed her.

  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I had actually hoped to entice you into sharing dinner with me this evening.”

  Kaelyn’s breath caught in her throat. “Dinner? Like…a date?” she asked carefully.

  She heard a smile in his voice as he replied, “Yes, a date. If it is not too forward of me to ask.”

  “No!” came her swift reply. “I mean, yes! I would love to have dinner with you, Tyrian.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Would you like me to pick you up, or would you rather meet me?”

  Thinking of the sorry state of her apartment at the moment, Kaelyn said, “I think I’ll just meet you. Just tell me when and where.”

  A moment later,
Tyrian’s voice came over the phone once more. “The Menton, eight o’clock. I’ll put the reservation in my name.”

  A feeling of dread assailed her, and she swallowed. “The Menton?”

  “Are you not partial to French cuisine?” Tyrian asked in an apprehensive tone.

  “No, actually, I love it. It’s just a bit out of my price range.” And wardrobe standing… The rising of Ember’s eyebrows did nothing to assuage her diffidence.

  “Kaelyn.” His voice held a soft and understanding tone. “It is a date, after all.”

  Smiling to herself, she acquiesced. “The Menton it is. I’ll see you at eight.”

  “Can’t wait.” The timber in those two simple words sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

  After ending the call, Kaelyn collapsed in her chair. She pushed aside her French dip sandwich, and shot Ember a look that clearly said, “Help.”

  “Don’t worry.” Ember grinned like the devil. “I’ve got just the little black number you need, my friend.”

  * * * *

  Tyrian glanced down at his watch; it was nearing eight o’clock. He lifted his gaze in anticipation as the door to the illustrious five-star restaurant in the heart of Boston opened. The host ushered in a couple in their mid-fifties, took their coats, and addressed them by name as he led them to their table.

  Seated at a small corner table, Tyrian wondered for the hundredth time if Kaelyn would show. She’d sounded apprehensive about the restaurant, knowing of its elaborate price tag and the social customs that accompanied such. Perhaps he should have been more appreciative of her concerns, and chosen a dining establishment that more suited her tastes. After all, he wanted to make her absolutely comfortable.

  He glanced down at his watch once again, as the doors swung inward to reveal a couple in their late eighties, dripping in expensive jewels and furs. All the while, he wanted to kick himself for his own selfishness. He preferred the Menton for its subtle antiquity, reminding him of his former dining habits from when he had been human. All Hunters started out as humans, after all.

  As the elderly couple moved off to their table, Tyrian honed in on the young woman standing inconspicuously just inside the entryway. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back at the sides, falling over her shoulders in thick, bouncing curls. A soft wisp of sideswept bangs hung down into her kohl-lined hazel eyes, and a faint blush of cold lit her cheeks; her skin seemed to glow faintly in the soft lighting of the restaurant.

  Tyrian swallowed heavily as he took in her slender and shapely form, sheathed in a form-fitting, black knee-length dress that hugged her curves, making him itch to hold her. Long lace sleeves covered her shoulders and arms, fanning out over her hands, in which she clutched a small black bag in front of her. Black pantyhose encased her long, slender legs, and small, black ankle boots adorned her feet.

  He had never laid eyes on a more desirable woman in all his seven hundred years.

  And she had come here for him.

  His gaze drifted back up to her mesmerizing hazel eyes, and he knew the instant she saw him, recognition lighting their depths. Her lips parted as she ran her eyes over his form, bringing a wicked smile to his face as he noticed the admiration that lit within them. Apparently, she also liked what she saw.

  Tyrian stood and moved around to the other side of the table. He nodded at the host who had ushered Kaelyn over. The host gave a short bow and promptly turned, leaving the two to their dining alone. Kaelyn’s soft smile as he pulled out her chair warmed his chest, and he swiftly retook his seat so he could gaze upon her face once more.

  “Your beauty is utterly arresting.” He could not take his eyes off of her.

  A quick, brilliant smile lit Kaelyn’s face; her eyes turned downcast at his admission. She brought her dainty fingers to her lips as she met his gaze across the candlelit table.

  “Thank you; you’re not too shabby yourself.” She blushed prettily, and lowered her eyes once more.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of placing our order.”

  She blinked in wonder.

  “I wanted us to be relatively undisturbed, so I ordered the chef’s tasting menu.”

  She softly shook her head. “No, that’s great; thank you.”

  Grinning languidly, Tyrian lifted a bottle of Cheval Blanc from the pail at the inner corner of the table. He poured a glass and offered it to Kaelyn, who accepted it with an appreciative smile.

  “I’m really not much of a drinker,” she said. She probably hoped that Oscar’s tale of her evening escapade hadn’t completely ruined his perceptions of her.

  “You really didn’t strike me as such. Would I be forward to ask what drove you to drink?” Tyrian poured himself a glass before placing the bottle back in the ice.

  “You,” she quietly replied. She hid her lips behind her glass, and took a sip as she averted her gaze.

  Tyrian’s humor abruptly faded at the forlorn cadence of her voice. After setting his own glass down, he reached across the table, took one of her hands in his, and stared into her guilt-ridden eyes.

  “I am truly sorry to have left you in such a hurry, not to mention staying away for so long. I’d feared that you had forgotten about me. I see now that it was quite the opposite. I admit, I too have not been able to think about much of anything but you since we met. It has been…” Tyrian trailed off, searching for the right word.

  “Strange,” Kaelyn offered, then grinned sheepishly.

  “To say the least. I can honestly say that I have never felt about a woman the way I felt about you after spending not more than five minutes in your presence. You have haunted my thoughts with a startling resilience lately. I do not know what has come over me,” he admitted.

  “Well, whatever it is, I think I caught it, too,” Kaelyn replied in an airy voice. He watched with rapt attention as she drew her full lower lip between her pearly whites, effectively turning her slightly dazed stare sultry.

  Their server chose that moment to bring out their courses, breaking both of them out of the heavy atmosphere that had settled around them. Sitting back in their seats, they allowed the servers to place the dishes about the table to sample, each one looking absolutely delectable. The server paused afterward to ask if everything was to their liking, to which Tyrian responded favorably. The man bowed and left.

  After picking up her spoon and choosing borscht to sample first, Kaelyn broke the uncomfortable silence.

  “So, Tyrian, what exactly is it that you do for a living?”

  He paused before answering, gently folding his napkin into his lap. “I’m what you might call a Hunter.”

  He didn’t want to lie to her, for some reason. It felt wrong that he should. Her response to his job description was not quite what he expected either, the slight nodding of her head and the recognition in her eyes taking him aback.

  “What do you hunt?” she countered, before leaning over to take a sip of her borscht.

  Tyrian chose his words carefully. “A small variety of rare and exotic creatures that, if left unchecked, could prove detrimental to the average human population.”

  Kaelyn raised her eyebrows. “That was a very eloquent way of telling me what you do without really telling me what you do.”

  He smiled, and chuckled softly to himself.

  “Well, if I told you any more, I would most likely end up putting you in more danger than I am prepared to allow you to fall into, so I’m afraid you’ll have to take it at face value for now,” he said, his tone mildly apologetic.

  Casting him a wary, sidelong glance, Kaelyn narrowed her eyes and smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Something to look forward to then, I suppose.”

  Tyrian grabbed his own utensils, and dug into the corn meal.

  “And you? How did you end up at the East End Bookstore with dear old Oscar?”

  Kaelyn chuckled, and set down her spoon. “Would you like the abridged version, or the light novel?”

  Tyrian returned Kaelyn’s amused s
tare with one of his own. “I’ve always enjoyed a good novel.”

  * * * *

  Nodding and folding her hands into her lap, Kaelyn took a deep breath. It wasn’t exactly a story she enjoyed telling, but she felt that in order to get Tyrian to open up a bit more about his life, she should lay hers out there as well.

  Tyrian hadn’t surprised her when he’d said that he was a Hunter. His hard and cut physique had told her as much while she’d been pressed so tightly against him in the bookstore last week. A man only got a body like that by trade, not practice, and Tyrian was built like the cut-marble statues of the fabled warriors of ancient Greece.

  She didn’t exactly know what to make of his explanation of what he hunted, however. The fact that they were dining in one of the most prestigious restaurants in Boston, and that he’d ordered probably the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu, led her to imagine that whatever it was afforded a hefty bounty.

  But she supposed she’d grill him more on that later.

  “I never knew my father. Neither, apparently, did my mother. She wasn’t what one might call good parent material. When I was seven, the state decided that my mother was no longer fit to care for me, and I was placed in the foster care system. It was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. You hear a lot of horror stories about foster parents abusing the system and the children that live with them, but that wasn’t the case with Daria and Murphy. I lived with them from the time I was seven until I graduated high school.” She paused, and smiled wistfully.

  “That was actually how I met Ember. Her dad had married my foster mother a few years before I came to live with them. The triplets, Ember’s brothers, had just turned four when I was sent there. We were like a real family, more than what I’d ever known. Ember and the boys still treat me like a little sister, no matter that I’m three years older than the three of them. When I turned eighteen, they gave me the option to stay or go out on my own. I’d gotten a full ride to BU on an academic scholarship, so I decided to stay on campus, but it still meant a lot to me that they’d offered,” she explained.