Dark Guardian Found Page 5

  “Any trouble? Anything you need help with?”

  Robert shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

  Kian surprised him by pulling out a chair and sitting down. Usually, he would stop by, ask a couple of questions, and leave.

  “How are you acclimatizing here?”

  Strange question. Kian didn’t strike him as someone who was interested in people’s personal lives.

  “I’m doing fine.”

  “Made any friends?”

  Robert shook his head.

  “I see. How about Dalhu?”

  “He doesn’t want anything to do with me. I remind him of a life he wishes to forget.”

  Robert had tried to approach the only other Doomer who’d ever crossed over to the clan, but the guy had made it clear he preferred Robert stayed away from him. Perhaps Dalhu was uncomfortable associating with someone who’d outranked him in the Brotherhood, or perhaps he was uncomfortable with Robert for another reason. Dalhu, who used to be a warrior, had become an artist. Not something that would’ve garnered him respect in the Doomer camp. The Brotherhood didn’t consider art as an appropriate occupation for a male.

  Kian raked his fingers through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “And how are things with Carol?”

  Now Robert was certain it hadn’t been Kian’s idea to come and ask him all those questions. He narrowed his eyes. “Why? Did Carol say something?”

  “No. But my wife seems to think that you guys need some help. Maybe talking to Vanessa or something like that.”

  “Who’s Vanessa?”

  “Our psychologist.”

  So it had been Syssi’s idea. If Robert weren’t an ex-Doomer, she would’ve probably come to talk to him herself. Instead she’d sent her husband.

  Robert found it ridiculous that even a man like Kian, the clan’s formidable regent, bowed to his woman’s dictates. It should’ve been the other way around. According to the teachings of Mortdh, women were supposed to obey their men.

  Except, it didn’t work that way, and Robert was basing this on his own experience. There was a big flaw in Mortdh’s philosophy, or rather a missing part.

  Men craved their women’s approval and affection and were willing to go to great lengths to get it. The best examples of that were sitting across from each other in his office.

  The thing was, Robert wasn’t seeking Syssi’s approval and therefore didn’t need to accept her suggestions.

  “We don’t need it.”

  “But you’re not happy together. She’s not happy, and you’re not happy.”

  “So what? Who said everyone needs to be happy all of the time?”

  Kian grimaced. “I know. It’s a modern concept. It used to be about survival; now it’s about being fucking happy.”

  So true. “I’m not giving up yet, and neither is she.”

  “Good for you.” Kian pushed up to his feet, looking relieved to be done with his task. “If you need anything, come see me. I mean it. My office door is open to you.”

  The guy seemed sincere, and Robert decided to plunge ahead with what was bothering him most about his relationship with Carol. “What happens to me if I’m no longer with Carol?”

  Kian chuckled. “You’ll need to hide in your apartment because there will be a stampede of immortal females chasing after you.”

  Robert felt his face warm up. “I’m not such a great catch. And I wasn’t asking about that. Would I still have a home here?”

  “You are a great catch because there is only one of you. And this is your home independent of your relationship with Carol. I can’t let you go even if I wanted to. You know too much.”

  “There are many ways to let go of someone.” Robert made air quotes around the “let go” part.

  Kian’s face darkened. “It seems that you’ve learned nothing about us during the months you’ve been here. I’m not in the habit of giving my word and then going back on it, or repaying kindness with betrayal.”

  Robert hadn’t seen that side of Kian yet. The guy was terrifying when angered.

  Offending the regent had been a big mistake. Robert should’ve known better. As a Doomer, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut and think twice before saying anything that might be perceived as insolent by his superiors.

  Robert stood up and bowed. “I apologize. I’ve misspoken and inadvertently offended you, my benefactor. I’ll accept any punishment you deem appropriate.”

  Kian shook his head. “There will be no punishment. You need to adjust your way of thinking, Robert. You’re no longer in the Doomer camp, and no one here gets punished for saying something someone doesn’t like.”

  Robert should’ve been relieved, but he wasn’t.

  It would’ve been better to suffer through some sort of punishment than Kian’s disapproval. “I hope you accept my apology. It was sincere. I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, and I should’ve thought things through before blurting out nonsense.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  Chapter 9: Eva

  Eva parked her rental car a block down the street from Fernando’s café, and with a heavy sigh heaved her bulk out of the rental.

  Like a method actress, she always stayed in character when wearing a disguise, even if no one was paying her any attention.

  Lumbering up the street, her shoulders slumped and her back slightly bowed, she almost felt as old as she looked. Hell, she was as old. If not for her mutation, the old lady get-up would’ve not been a costume to be discarded at the end of her performance.

  Eva stopped in front of the café and peeked inside. The place hadn’t changed much as far as the decor, but everything else about it had.

  Nathalie was nowhere in sight, and neither was Fernando. A young man was in charge of the register, and another one was waiting on the customers.

  She took a step back and looked at the sign. It hadn’t changed. It was still Fernando’s café.

  Had Nathalie sold the place and the new owners kept the name?

  One thing was evident, though; these people knew how to run this place better than Fernando. Eva had never seen the café so packed. Not at three o’clock in the afternoon. It used to be busy during breakfast and lunch, but other than that not so much.

  Time to ask some questions.

  Eva pushed the door open and shuffled inside.

  “Welcome to Fernando’s café.” The handsome young man greeted her with a charming smile.

  Maybe that was the secret. An attractive guy to lure in the female clientele. A discreet glance confirmed her suspicion. Women of all ages filled the booths, with only a couple of guys sitting in the back.

  “Thank you.” She smiled, flashing him a set of fake teeth that matched the rest of her appearance. “What happened to Fernando? I used to come here a lot before moving to Florida, and it was always Fernando standing at the cash register, and his lovely daughter Nathalie serving the customers.”

  The young man regarded her with suspicious eyes. “Fernando retired, and Nathalie is married now and expecting her first baby.” With the charming smile gone, the handsome guy in front of her didn’t look as harmless as before. In fact, he seemed menacing.

  What was wrong? Did her wig sit crookedly? Had some of the prosthetics gotten unglued?

  “Excuse me for a moment, but I need to use the restroom. Is it still in the same place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. An old woman like me always needs to know where to find one.”

  His smile looked forced.

  Damn it.

  Heading to the bathroom, Eva made herself to go slow. Something must’ve gone wrong with her costume. It was the first time someone wasn’t buying it.

  Everything looked fine. The fake loose skin of her latex mask was just right, and the makeup that hid the transition between the mask and her eyes was intact. She stretched on her tiptoes to take a look at the rest of her body. Maybe her fake boobs were askew. It happened sometimes and would’ve been a dead giveaway. But everything
was in its right place.

  When she got out, the guy watched her as she shuffled back up front. “Would you like a booth, ma’am?” he asked.

  “Yes please.”

  He showed her to her seat and even offered his hand to help her in. A surprisingly polite move for a product of this generation, or the few that came before it. Respect for the elderly hadn’t been part of their education.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. What can I get you?”

  “I would like a cup of coffee and a Danish. Are they as good as Fernando’s? His used to be the best in town.”

  This time the guy’s smile was genuine. “I’ll bring you one and if it’s not as good as Fernando’s, it’s on the house.”

  He was good, a natural born salesman. “You’ve got yourself a deal, young man. What’s your name?”

  “Jackson.” He offered his hand.

  Damn it. She couldn’t let him touch her. Her gnarled hand looked real but it felt like latex, not skin. Eva grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and pretended to sneeze into it. “I’m sorry, must be my allergies flaring up. I’m Hilda.” She crumpled the napkin in her hand and grabbed another one.

  Jackson retracted his. “Nice to meet you, Hilda. I’ll let Fernando know that you stopped by.”

  “Thank you. That’s very nice of you. I hope he remembers me. It’s been a few years.”

  Hopefully, the real Hilda, who’d retired to Florida more than eleven years ago, hadn’t passed away in the meantime. But even if she had, Fernando would probably not remember her. According to the letter, his dementia had progressed since the last time Eva had seen him. Nathalie, however, might.

  “Do you have a phone number he can call you at?”

  She waved a hand. “It’s not important. I’m just an old customer. He probably doesn’t remember me.”

  Jackson nodded, but his eyes remained suspicious.

  Was he one of those people who possessed a strong sixth sense?

  She should ask him.

  That was how Eva had collected her other misfits. Whenever she encountered someone who struck her as different, she looked into that person’s eyes and asked a simple question; “What makes you special?”

  For some reason, she’d always gotten an honest answer.

  Sharon could predict what people would say next with uncanny accuracy. She claimed it was easy because people were predictable and she could easily read their facial cues. But Eva suspected it was more than that.

  Nick had a way with computers and electronic devices that seemed almost magical, so much so that Tessa and Sharon nicknamed him the wizard. He believed it was just an acquired skill, but Eva had seen him tackle stuff he’d never encountered before and figure it out as if he’d seen the schematics and memorized them.

  Eva had the same feeling about Tessa. The girl was different all right, but when asked that same question she’d claimed there was nothing special about her. Maybe her traumatic youth had stunted her natural talents. It sure as heck had stunted her growth. At twenty-one, Tessa could pass for a twelve-year-old, and she’d done it once when Eva needed a kid for an undercover stint.

  Jackson was different too, though with him it was something physical. The way he moved, fluid and graceful like a dancer, projected a magnetic sexuality that belied his youth. He could not have been more than eighteen, and yet every woman in the café, regardless of age, couldn’t take her eyes off him. If she believed in mythical creatures, Jackson would’ve fit the role of an incubus.

  Eva could sense it, but remained unaffected. It was just an observation. He was a pretty boy to look at, that’s all. Perhaps she was too jaded to feel the attraction the others did.

  Men in general left her indifferent even though she was a shamefully lustful woman. Not that she had a thing for other females, although it would have made her life easier if she had. She loved sex, just not the entanglement that came with relationships, or the feelings of guilt that came with hookups.

  She’d been raised in a religious home and had been taught that good girls didn’t do it outside of the marriage bed. Things hadn’t worked out for her that way, but she still felt a smidgen of guilt after every meaningless sexual encounter.

  Most of the time Eva took care of her own needs without a partner. She picked up a guy no more than once a month and would’ve gladly skipped that as well, but the need to touch and be touched became overwhelming after a while.

  Like with food, going for too long without resulted in mindless binging of whatever junk she could put into her mouth. Her one-night stand with Bhathian thirty-one years ago was a perfect example of lust overpowering good judgment.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Bhathian whispered in her ear as they rode the elevator up to her hotel room.

  God, she couldn’t wait to get him naked. The hours they’d spent at the bar had been such a waste of time, but neither had wanted to be the one to suggest sex. Eva was too much of a lady to let him know she was burning, and Bhathian had taken his sweet time torturing her with one slow dance after the other. Swaying to the music, they’d kissed and touched each other everywhere they could without getting arrested for indecent behavior. One thing was sure, after that public make-out session, none of her fellow flight attendants would ever call her prim.

  Her hands shook as she tried to insert the room key into the lock. Bhathian took it away from her and opened the door, then kicked it closed while practically tearing her clothes off of her. In seconds, she found herself without a stitch of clothing on, sprawled on the bed and panting in anticipation.

  Burning with need after hours of build-up, Eva was more than ready and ached to be filled. She wished Bhathian would forgo foreplay and just pounce on her. They’d done enough playing around on the dance floor.

  “Just look at you,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  They hadn’t turned the lights on, but she had no trouble seeing him in the dark. Those strange enhanced senses of hers often came in handy. What she wondered, though, was how Bhathian could see her, and why the hell did his eyes look like they were glowing from the inside.

  Such a beautiful man. “Let me see you,” she said.

  “Do you want me to turn on the light?”

  “In the bathroom.” He’d misunderstood her meaning, but she had to go with his interpretation. After all, she couldn’t admit seeing perfectly well in the dark.

  Bhathian flipped the switch on and left the door open a crack. Undoing just the top buttons on his shirt, he pulled it off and tossed it aside.

  Wow. The guy had the kind of chest a girl wanted to sink her nails into. Not an ounce of fat, he was all hard muscle covered by smooth skin.

  Chapter 10: Nathalie

  “You seem in a good mood. Was it something Anandur said?” Nathalie asked Carol.

  The immortal was a great help, and her dish of the day was a big success, but she wasn’t happy. Not with her job working for Nathalie, not with living at the keep, and not with Robert. Sadly, those two didn’t belong together.

  As one who’d fallen in love recently, it hadn’t taken Nathalie long to realize that Robert and Carol weren’t meant to be. They hardly talked to each other and rarely touched. That wasn’t how people in love acted. When Nathalie had met Andrew, they couldn’t take their hands off each other and had talked nonstop into the night.

  With a quick sidelong glance at Robert’s favorite table, Nathalie found him doing the same thing as every other day at lunchtime—sitting alone and reading a newspaper because he had no one to talk to.

  Poor guy. He was like that ostracized kid who sat alone in the school cafeteria.

  Both he and Carol were miserable, but lately so were Nathalie and Andrew. They weren’t enjoying the marital bliss everyone thought they were. Things between them were strained and getting worse by the day.

  It was tough to maintain a loving relationship without a smidgen of intimacy.

  Andrew was so terrified of succumbing to his urges and biting her
, that he wouldn’t even hold her hand. As soon as he was back from work, he would go on a drinking binge, pass out on the bed in the spare bedroom, and not wake up until the next morning. The only way she could even talk to him was calling him at work.

  It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but it sucked.

  “He had a wonderful idea,” Carol said.

  Confused, Nathalie tried to remember what she and Carol had been talking about. “Who?”

  Carol looked at her with pity in her eyes. “Anandur… Is that what pregnancy does to a woman? The bigger your belly grows, the more absentminded you get?”

  There was something to it.

  The child inside her was getting more and more active, letting Nathalie know she was there by kicking around with her tiny feet or maybe punching with her tiny fists. It was distracting, but in the best possible way.

  With a smile, Nathalie rubbed a hand over the side of her belly. She’d just felt a little bump. Moments like that reminded her that having her child was worth all of the sacrifices she and Andrew were making. Besides, it wasn’t going to last forever. Only nine more weeks to go.

  They would survive.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Carol looked into her eyes as if checking for dilated pupils.

  “I think I’m high on pregnancy hormones.”

  “Are you? Is that how it works? Makes sense. Otherwise why would women subject themselves to that?” Carol pointed at Nathalie’s stomach. “And then that.” She crouched a little and grimaced in mock pain.

  Nathalie chuckled. “I guess you’re not in a hurry to become a mommy.”

  The expression of horror on Carol’s face was hilarious. “No, no, and no.” She shook her head, her blond curls bouncing from side to side around her face. “Not this girl, not ever.”

  Nathalie backed into the stool she kept behind the counter and took a load off. Carrying extra thirty pounds was taking a toll on her legs and her back. “So what was Anandur’s idea?”