Dark Guardian Found Page 3

  What happened to adorable little boys when they grew up and became men?

  After Nathalie, Eva had hoped against hope to conceive again and have a boy, but it hadn’t worked out. Her dreams of a house full of kids fizzled and died.

  It was better that way.

  Abandoning one child had been hard enough. Besides, a freak like her had no business being anyone’s mother. When she’d been blessed with Nathalie, Eva hadn’t known the extent of her mutation. The extraordinary senses had been weird, but she’d had all kinds of theories as to why. A brain tumor had been one of them. Not aging, however, wasn’t something she could explain.

  A curse or a blessing, she still wasn’t sure.

  In either case, God had different plans for her, giving her these strange abilities so she could do some good, and kids had no place in that grand design.

  The best she could do was provide financial support for a few of the lost ones. Orphans no one wanted because they didn’t fit the image prospective adoptive parents desired.

  A flutter of excitement rushed through her as she gave the cabbie the address of the orphanage. She hadn’t been back since she’d signed over her pension seven years ago. Her intention hadn’t been purely philanthropic. Hiding her trail had been her top priority. Anyone with good hacking skills could’ve followed the monthly deposits to their final destination.

  Still, knowing that her contribution was supporting such a worthy cause was wonderful, a penance for her dark deeds. But even though she trusted the nuns to make good use of the money, she was curious to see what it was providing the children with.

  The place looked the same as it had seven years ago, and so did Sister Juliana.

  “Dona Eva, so good to see you again. It has been a long time.” Sister Juliana’s smile was welcoming and genuine.

  It had been one of the rare instances Eva had given her real name; an unavoidable necessity when transferring the rights to a banking account registered to Eva Vega.

  “You look as lovely as ever, Sister Juliana.” Compliments always worked, even on a nun. After all, she was still a woman. Besides, it was the honest truth. Sister Juliana had that ageless look of someone who was at peace with herself and the world.

  “Thank you. It’s very kind of you. Would you like to see all the improvements we’ve made since you’ve last been here?”

  Eva shook her head. “I would love to, but I hate going in there and seeing the hopeful looks disappear from the children’s eyes when they realize I’m not there as a prospective parent. It breaks my heart.”

  Sister Juliana nodded. “I understand. Would you like to see pictures? I can show you a couple of the latest yearbooks and tell you some nice stories.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  Sister Juliana opened a file cabinet and pulled out a glossy, colorful book. “This is one of the things your money made possible. We didn’t use to have nice ones like that.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She handed the yearbook to Eva. “Because yours is a monthly contribution, we use it for everyday expenses. Clothes, shoes, books, school supplies. It certainly makes our lives easier and gives the kids a sense of normality. You’d be surprised what having new clothes instead of only hand-me-downs can do for a child’s self-esteem.”

  “I’m happy to help,” she said while flipping through the pages. “They are so adorable, I wish I could adopt all of them.”

  “So why don’t you? Obviously not all, but one or two?”

  Eva’s reasons weren’t the kind she could share with the good Sister. “Maybe one day, when I’m married, that is.” That sounded like a good excuse to give a nun. The church wasn’t too happy about single parent families.

  With a smile, Sister Juliana leaned against her desk, crossing her ankles and her arms. “That reminds me; about six months ago someone came looking for you. A very handsome young fellow.”

  Eva’s gut twisted into a hard knot. What she’d been waiting for had finally happened. They were looking for her. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth. I told him that I don’t know where you are, and that the last time I’d seen you was almost seven years ago.” She chuckled. “I know it’s strange coming from a nun, but if he is an ex-boyfriend, I would give him another chance. Such a handsome man, and so polite. You don’t see good manners like that anymore. And to come all the way here to look for you, he must still have strong feelings about you.”

  Yeah, obviously. Discovering someone with a genetic mutation resulting in immortality would be one hell of a motivation to go look for her. The right people would pay a fortune to get their hands on her. A rare specimen to experiment on so they could replicate it and sell it. Naturally, she couldn’t tell Juliana any of that and had to go with the ex-boyfriend scenario.

  Whatever name the guy had given was probably fake, so there was no point in asking for it. “Can you describe him to me? Maybe it would jog my memory.”

  Juliana lifted her arm, holding her hand about two feet over her head. “He was tall, four or five inches over six feet.” She spread her arms wide. “Big shoulders. Very muscular. He frowned a lot, but I couldn’t fault the poor man for his bad mood. Coming all the way from Los Angeles to look for you and finding a dead end must’ve been disappointing.”

  If she hadn’t known better, Eva would’ve thought the nun was describing Bhathian. But the guy, if he was still alive, was probably in his late seventies—not the young, handsome man Sister Juliana was describing.

  She shook her head. “I don’t remember anyone like that, but then I meet a lot of people in my line of work. He might’ve been a business associate.” It was horrible to tell a nun one lie after another, but there was no way around it.

  Sister Juliana slapped a hand over her forehead. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. Must be old age. I almost forgot that he left a letter for you in case you ever came back.” She hurried to the other side of her desk and started sifting through the content of her drawers. “Aha, found it.” She lifted an envelope. “It’s addressed to you, but also to another person. Unless Patricia is your middle name.”

  Eva fought the urge to snatch the envelope from Juliana’s hand, waiting for the nun to hand it to her. “No, it’s not. Maybe he was asking about a different Eva.”

  The nun nodded. “Possibly. You don’t match his description. He was talking about a brunette with amber eyes who was unforgettably beautiful. Did you color your hair?”

  Sister Juliana was having a hard time reconciling the guy’s description with the plain woman in front of her while desperately trying not to offend her.

  “I started to see gray hairs.” Eva patted her wig. “It was time.”

  “That explains it.”

  Envelope in hand, Eva turned around and tore it open, then pulled out the small paper square that was inside. It was folded twice as if that was supposed to add a layer of protection to what was written on it. There was nothing on the top flap, but as she turned it in her hand, things got blurry for a moment, and she felt faint for the first time in forever.

  There were only two lines of writing—a simple to and from. To; Patricia or Eva. From; Bhathian.

  How could it be?

  It couldn’t have been her Bhathian, Nathalie’s biological father who had rejected her and his daughter all those years ago. The only explanation Eva could think of was that Bhathian had indeed written the letter, but someone else had delivered it—a son that looked a lot like his father.

  Maybe Bhathian was on his deathbed, and his conscience was bothering him about the child he’d never gotten to know. Maybe he wanted to find his daughter before it was too late?

  “Well?” Sister Juliana tried to peek from behind Eva’s shoulder. “Is it for you?”

  “Yes, it is.” She turned around with a fake smile that was so well practiced no one would’ve known it wasn’t genuine, and the lie rolled off her tongue. “It’s a funny story. I once participated in an amateur theater production
and my character’s name was Patricia. Bhathian was the co-star, and for some reason I remembered him by his stage name, Reuben. We went out a couple of times, but it was nothing serious.” Eva put the folded paper back in the envelope and stuffed it in her skirt pocket.

  The nun’s eyes followed Eva’s hand. “Aren’t you going to read it?”

  Eva waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll read it back in the hotel. It might be a silly love letter, and I don’t want to start blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl in your office.”

  Sister Juliana didn’t even try to hide her disappointment. “I understand.”

  “I should go.” Eva glanced at her wristwatch. “I have a meeting later today, and I need to get ready.”

  “Of course.” The nun offered her hand. “I’m delighted that you stopped by.”

  “Me too. I’ll come again the next time I have business in Rio.”

  The nun frowned. “What exactly is it that you do?”

  Eva put a finger on her lips. “I’m under contractual obligation to keep it confidential.” At least she wasn’t lying about that. Every contract she signed with a client stipulated confidentiality.

  Chapter 5: Bhathian

  “How can I help you, Bhathian?” Bridget motioned for him to come in and take a seat.

  Bhathian smoothed his palm over his short-cropped hair. This was going to be embarrassing.

  Bridget leaned forward and smiled. “Just say what you came here to say. I never reveal anything my patients tell me.”

  “I’m not here for me. It’s about Nathalie.”

  “Are you worried?”

  He nodded.

  “Perfect. That makes you a patient and therefore obligates me not to reveal anything you tell me. You came to receive treatment for anxiety. It qualifies.”

  Worked for him. And anyway, Bridget had misunderstood. His embarrassment had nothing to do with the subject of what he came to talk about and everything to do with his shitty communication skills.

  “Nathalie is getting really big,” he started.

  “Yes.”

  “The baby is going to be big.”

  “Go on.”

  “I think a cesarean section delivery will be safer for Nathalie and for the baby.”

  “And that’s your medical opinion?”

  Bhathian felt his ears warm up. Bridget was making fun of him. He wasn’t well educated, or even well read in other subjects, but he sure as hell had read plenty about pregnancy and delivery. He wasn’t an ignoramus. “I’ve read a lot. And big babies can cause trouble for the mothers. I want my daughter to be safe. Whatever scarring she’ll have because of the operation will disappear after the transition. Her body will be as good as new.”

  Bridget shook her head. “When it gets close to her due date, I’ll determine what’s best for Nathalie and for the baby and explain the options. It’s her body and it’s her decision.”

  That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. If the choice were left up to Nathalie, she would never agree to even consider an operation.

  “Can’t you at least talk to her? You’re the only one she might listen to.”

  “The only thing I can promise you is that I’ll give her my best professional advice. And if I think she needs a C-section, I’ll strongly recommend it.”

  “Thanks. I hope she’ll listen.” It would have to do. Hopefully, Bridget’s recommendation would carry weight with his stubborn daughter.

  Bridget smiled. “Don’t worry. I have plenty of experience dealing with stubborn patients. Your Nathalie will listen. Anything else I can help you with?”

  Bhathian shifted in his chair. “Yeah, there is. I think Andrew’s fangs are functional, and that he is trying to get through the last months of Nathalie’s pregnancy relying on his willpower and self-discipline. But we both know that he can’t risk it. If he ends up biting her and inducing her transition while she is still pregnant, it will kill the baby and maybe even her.”

  It was Bridget’s turn to look uncomfortable. “What do you want me to do? I can’t force him to agree to an induced coma or entombment.”

  “I think we should ask Edna to issue a court order. He is dangerous to Nathalie and to his unborn daughter.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Bridget said, her tone and her expression showing surprise as if she’d never expected to hear anything clever from him.

  Bhathian got that a lot.

  People assumed that big muscles equaled a small brain. He wasn’t very smart, but he wasn’t stupid either. “So you’ll talk to her?”

  “First I need to see what’s the deal with Andrew.”

  “Yeah, of course.” He pushed up to his feet.

  “Sit down, Bhathian,” Bridget commanded.

  For such a small female the doctor packed authority. Bhathian obeyed immediately, the soldier in him responding to an order. Hey, maybe Andrew would react to Bridget the same way. He was a soldier for many years before being forced off active duty and becoming an analyst. In the military, a doctor carried the same authority as a commanding officer. On the other hand, Andrew and Bridget had had that fling before he’d met Nathalie, and he might view her in a different light.

  “Yes?” He arched a brow.

  “I want to talk to you about your depression.”

  “I’m not depressed.” He was, but it was nobody’s business. In time, he’d snap out of it.

  Bridget sighed. “Look, Bhathian, I know it’s hard for a male like you to admit a weakness, especially a mental one. You’re a Guardian, and you guys are supposed to be hard and resilient and basically indestructible. The best warriors in the world.”

  Bhathian straightened in his chair. “We are.”

  “But you’re not. Not in your current state. Depression slows your reaction time, makes you less observant. In short, it can get you killed or let down those who depend on you for protection. I want you to talk to Vanessa. She can help you.”

  “I’m not talking to a shrink.”

  A mask of determination slipped over Bridget’s porcelain doll face, her red brows dipping low. “You either haul your ass and plant it in Vanessa’s office chair, or I’m grounding you.”

  He answered with a growl that was known to intimidate grown men, but not the doctor. She handed him a business card. “You can growl all you want all the way to her office. Here are her address and phone number. Call her.”

  “Fine.” Bhathian took the card and stuffed it in his back pocket. Whatever, he could pretend he was going to do it to get Bridget off his back.

  She smiled. “I’m going to call her in an hour and check if you made an appointment. If you didn’t, my next call will be to Onegus.”

  “Stubborn woman.”

  “Yes, I am. It’s for your own good.”

  Chapter 6: Eva

  The letter was burning a hole in Eva’s pocket, but she didn’t want to read it in the taxi. A few more minutes until she got back to her hotel room wouldn’t kill her.

  How the hell had Bhathian’s son found her? An ordinary citizen couldn’t have the necessary resources to track her money. Maybe he was an agent? Or a hacker? Or had access to one?

  The chance of anyone tracking the money trail through the loops she’d created had been remote, a long shot, and deciding to close that last loop had been born in part out of her paranoia, but the extra precautions she’d taken donating her pension to the orphanage had paid off.

  The nuns had no idea where she lived, and her trail ended there.

  Yeah, no need to worry. Everything was working exactly as she’d planned it. And yet, she couldn’t get rid of the churning unease in her stomach.

  Was it the letter?

  Was it her old life catching up with her?

  Eva paid the cabbie, leaving him a big tip because she didn’t want to wait for change, then hurried up to her room.

  But she wasn’t ready yet. Dropping the fake glasses on the bathroom vanity, she started pulling out the pins holding her wig in place. Too impatient to ge
t them all out, she tore the thing off, the remaining pins clattering down to the tiled floor.

  Only after shaking out her long hair and running a brush through it, was she ready to read the letter. She needed to do it as herself and not one of her multiple personalities.

  Eva sat down on the bed and pulled out the letter. Opening the thing and reading it, though, was another story. She sat there, holding it in her hands for God knows how long, just staring at it.

  Come on, Eva, you’re not a coward. He is not going to jump out of the paper and attack you.

  The thing was, she didn’t want to know.

  For years upon years the memory of Bhathian had stayed fresh in her mind. Sometimes she’d remembered him with a pang of longing in her heart, but most often with bitter resentment. In both scenarios, though, he’d been young and healthy and single.

  Eva didn’t want to face the reality that he might be dying, or that he was married and had other grown children, half brothers and sisters to her Nathalie.

  With trembling hands, she pulled out the carefully folded square and smoothed it out.

  To Patricia, or Eva, or whatever name you’re going by now.

  From Bhathian.

  First, I wanted to let you know that I found our daughter. Nathalie is a wonderful young woman. She is smart and capable and a devoted daughter to her adoptive father. And beautiful. Lucky for her, she looks more like you and only a little bit like me.

  Fernando is not doing so great. His dementia is getting worse. He doesn’t know who I am of course. We didn’t tell him because of his condition and because we didn’t know if you’d told him that he wasn’t Nathalie’s father.

  The second thing I wanted to tell you was that I never stopped looking for you. I came back to that bar searching for you, and when you didn’t show up, I kept looking everywhere. But you were very good at covering your tracks. I was resigned to never finding you and the child we conceived together. Until I met Andrew, who later became Nathalie’s fiancé. He works for the government, and I asked him to help me. Without him, I would’ve never found Nathalie or uncovered your trail.