Dr. Williams gave Katie a warm smile. "Almost everything looks normal. There's an anomaly in your blood test, but you’re physically healthy," he said.
"Just a mental mess?" she prodded.
"Don’t be hard on yourself," he chided, pulling a rolling chair up to the exam table. "Your amnesia is trauma induced from the rape you survived a little over five years ago."
"I was raped?"
"And beaten near death," he said with a shake of his head. "I don’t know how you survived, but you did, probably because you were young enough to heal what an adult probably wouldn’t. To protect you, your mind backtracks whenever you feel overwhelmed, overly stressed, mentally threatened."
Katie gazed at him skeptically. Her file--two inches thick--was yet more proof that the world that seemed foreign to her really wasn’t.
"So my mind blanks stuff out?"
"Precisely. It’s a survival technique. The human mind is so wonderful and so versatile." By his glowing eyes, the doctor loved his job. His enthusiasm and genuine warmth melted more of her resistance.
"But how is it I remember being alone getting on the train, and Toby got on at the next stop?" she challenged.
"It’s how your mind wakes up from whatever sleep it went into. You fantasized him appearing at the next stop; it’s how your psychosis snaps and brings you back to reality."
"That makes no sense."
"We’ve gone over this several times," he said. "You’ll have to take my word on this."
"Do I usually do that?" she asked.
"No, but I’d like to get home to my wife before midnight. And I called the judge on your behalf and volunteered you to go to counseling. The judge liked that option rather than jailing a young single mom."
Jailing a single mom, like her. She managed a nod. He gave another warm smile.
"Get dressed and take your file to the nurse. Please call me if you experience any other problems. I'll tell my receptionist to make you an appointment for next week. Your blood test results were unusual."
He handed her a business card and left. The antiseptic pine-laced air from the hallway made her nose wrinkle. She looked at the door, the familiar scent disturbing her, then down at her file.
Everything was documented, every visit, every doctor-scrawled record, every prescription she’d ever taken.
It was too real not to be real, yet it didn’t feel real at all! She followed his instructions and traded the file for two prescriptions to drugs she’d never heard of. She considered debating with the nurse at the front desk, whose friendly grey eyes were familiar. Toby hopped up from his chair and waved to the nurse. Tired and confused, Katie left without asking what the drugs were for and stepped into the chilly fall evening. Toby trailed silently.
The cold wind felt good against her face and roused her dark thoughts. She breathed out fog, watching it rise to the dark grey skies. Dr. Williams’ clinic had a blessedly late schedule; it was nearing eight, and the lights of his building still glowed. Having the world’s best neurologist on call was one of the perks of the rich and famous, a world unfamiliar to her except that her sister had been gunning for it since her sixteenth birthday.
Hannah had succeeded in landing a big fish blueblood, a descendant of Italian royalty, whose old money placated the chilly welcome she received into a lifestyle far, far different from her own. The fight that led up to Katie running away had been because of Hannah’s insistence Katie attend some refinement school, so she wouldn’t embarrass Hannah’s new family.
Katie shivered and looked around for a cab. Her eyes settled on a form across the street, so still and dark he would’ve been a shadow if not for his presence beneath a street lamp. She felt the cold, black glare and fought the urge to run back inside the clinic. He didn’t move. For a long moment, she convinced herself he was a statue, not a man too still to be human. He was in black, unaffected by the cold or the light settling over him, outlining him like glitter on black construction paper.
Like one of Toby’s drawings on the fridge.
Toby.
She didn’t know why she suddenly felt near hysterics. She felt no motherly bond to the kid huddled beside her in a thick coat despite how adorable he was. With the living shadow staring at her, the winter wind sucking the air from her lungs, and the prescriptions clenched in her hand, she’d never felt less a part of her world.
A car approached, and a window lowered.
"You need a lift? Taxis quit coming this way after rush hour."
The voice of the friendly nurse from the nurse’s station brought her back from her thoughts. Blinking back tears, Katie looked toward the shadow. He was gone.
"Yeah," she forced herself to say. "Thanks."
The nurse dropped her and Toby off, and they trudged to her apartment.
The shadow man was on her fridge. Toby had drawn him on black construction paper with silver glitter outlining the shape of a man. There was no mistaking the image.
Death dealer, Toby had called him.
Katie stared at the picture for a long moment then emptied her pockets on the table. She attached the prescriptions to the fridge with another cartoon magnet and smoothed out the paperwork she’d been given from the police station. Toby dropped his coat in the middle of the floor and trudged to his room with a yawn. She slumped in a chair at the kitchen table, eyes blurring as she struggled to make out the forms. There were biographical forms and consent forms she hadn’t really read, all signed in a loopy, angry signature, and a copy of Toby's birth certificate.
Wiping her eyes, she pored through the rest of the paperwork, growing cold despite her wool coat in the middle of her warm apartment. Biographical information on her and her immediate family, her own medical and employment histories, all forms she’d completed without question. Toby's birth certificate listed her as the mother, no father, and the naval hospital in Annapolis as his birthplace.
The paperwork otherwise had nothing to do with Toby or their accusation that she abandoned her kid on the Metro.
Aside from the birth certificate, there was no way the rest were official police papers!
Dropping the papers on her computer desk, she then stripped off her coat and passed by the guest…Toby’s room. He was asleep.
She returned to the desk and scoured the paperwork for some sort of identifying information on the place she'd been or the company that developed the forms.
Nothing.
Frustrated, she searched the Internet for Dr. Williams until she found the eminent neurologist, whose picture she recognized. Somewhat relieved, she read his biography, impressed by his clientele, who ranged from heads of countries around the world to the richest families on the planet. He’d graduated from a Switzerland medical school and practiced extensively in Europe before coming to the United States thirty years before…
…and dying twenty years ago at the age of sixty-four.
She reread the entry, brow furrowed. Yes, it was his picture and yes, his clinic had been located in the same place it was now.
She’d spent several hours in his office talking to a dead man?
"Mama."
She jerked. She had forgotten Toby…again. He stood sleepy and frowning, dark hair tousled.
"I want cocoa."
Did she even have…of course she would. Right next to her tea. She went to the kitchen and made him a cup in silence, glancing at him a few times as he propped his head up with both his hands.
"Do you go to school?" she asked awkwardly.
"Yes," he said, and rolled his eyes. "I have a map. I know you forget."
I can’t be this crazy, she thought. She sat across from him, cocoa with marshmallows before both of them.
"Do I forget often?" she asked.
"No."
"Do you like…school?"
"I guess," he said with a shrug. "The teachers are mean to me."
"That sucks, I guess."
"Yeah. I like marshmallows."
She stretched for the counter and tugged the bag off, handing it to him.
"I think the death dealer needs cocoa," he said cheerfully.
"Why do you call him that?"
"Because that’s what he is, silly!"
"Oh," she said.
"He’s outside my window. Can I take him some cocoa?"
"He’s what?"
"C’mere." Toby took her hand in one of his, with his other fist wrapped around a large marshmallow. He led her to the window overlooking the street.
The death dealer stood at the edge of the shadows as he had across from the doctor’s office, waiting.
"What is he?" she whispered.
"He’s a death dealer," Toby said with impatience. "He’s not here for us."
The confidence with which he spoke floored her. She wiped her face again, the world around her spinning. Near hyperventilating, she sat heavily on the couch and clutched her head with her hands. Toby chattered, his tone lifting in a question that didn’t penetrate the in-between world in which she’d fallen.
There were sounds that should’ve alarmed her, the feel of hot tears on her face. Something warm touched her back, and a jolt of hot electricity made her sit upright. Her mind cleared, and she wiped her eyes at the massive form in black before her. Panicked, she backpedaled until trapped into the corner of the couch.
The death dealer stared at her, much larger in her small living room than he was in the middle of the street. He was close to seven feet tall, with chiseled features and eyes as black as eternity. His clothing was thick and heavy this night, as if he expected to be standing outside her window until dawn. His sweater, jeans, and trench coat were all of high quality with his heavy boots dwarfing her feet as hers did Toby’s. She didn’t see any weapons this night. He was muscular and buff beneath the trench.
Of all things, his gloved hands scared her the most.
"Gabriel!" Toby cried happily as he started into the living room, spilled the cocoa, and then retreated to the kitchen. The death dealer moved to follow, silent even over the hollow wooden floors.
She heard Toby’s chipper voice as he invited the death dealer to share some cocoa with him.
What the hell was a death dealer? The grim reaper, here in her home?
In the course of a day, her whole life had gone to shit.
She tiptoed to the kitchen and peeked in. The death dealer took up much of the small space, his trench still on despite sitting at the kitchen table. Toby was showing him the glitter drawing he’d done. The death dealer glanced at it, his face so emotionless she thought him a statue again. He sipped his cocoa from a sticky cup filled half with marshmallows.
What kind of mother let her five-year-old son carry on with death like he was a favorite uncle?
"…and this is your portal into the shadow world," Toby said proudly, indicating a blob of silver on one side of the drawing. "Do you see where it goes?"
"Elisia."
"Yes!" Toby squealed. "Where the fairies are!"
She was shaking, cold with fear on the inside and fevered skin clammy on the outside.
The death dealer touched a gloved finger to a blank spot on the construction paper, and an orchid sprung up, ethereal and hovering over the paper. Its colors rippled and changed before the flower bent and delicate wings spread apart, revealing a creature that was surely a fairy.
Toby squealed again and bounced to his feet, beginning a whirling dance. She thought she heard ethereal laughter as the fairy danced with him. The death dealer touched the paper again, and another orchid appeared, stretched, and morphed into a second fairy. Toby laughed and whirled.
Katie’s vision blurred and grew dark. She heard herself scrape against the wall as she fell and was out before she hit the floor.
***
So far, he hadn't been forced to change shapes since Gabriel's visit. Rhyn tested the bonds of his cell again until a mage in a brown robe hurried down the hall to repair the damage. Sometimes he could see out into the hallway and the empty cell across from his; sometimes he couldn't.
Today, the cell across from his wasn't empty. A human-like creature sat in the corner making snorting sounds he assumed was weeping. He looked closely at the creature. It was from the healer's guild, one of the oldest guild's in the universe. By the tattooed bands wrapped around his arms--each one depicting a millennium--the creature was nearly as old as Andre, the eldest of Rhyn's brothers.
"Shapeshifter!" someone called from down the hall.
He watched the mage in brown scuttle away. "Yeah," Rhyn grunted.
"I'm bored. Entertain me," the male voice down the corridor said. "Can you shut that healer up by eating him?"
"Yeah," he replied.
The sobbing, slender creature tensed and covered his head, as if expecting an attack from above. Amused, Rhyn stopped pacing and sat, staring the small creature down. The healer quieted.
"Good enough," the creature down the hall, Jared, said with a loud sigh. "What shape are you now, beast?"
"The usual."
"Not much for talking, are you?"
The rest of the freaks collected by Sasha, Rhyn’s half-brother who aligned himself with the Dark One, were quiet on the cell block. They normally were, and if they weren't, their screaming was muted by the magic of their cells. Rhyn stretched out on the ground of his cell to stare at the ceiling.
"I heard Sasha's getting promoted by You Know Who," Jared continued. "Wonder if he'll be too important for his personal zoo."
"He'll make time for you, Jared," Rhyn assured him.
"I suppose. Not sure why he has a half-breed like you hanging around when he's got a full-blooded demon like me here."
Rhyn knew why well enough. In Sasha's zoo, he was at the bottom of the food chain of the otherworldly collection of creatures. He intended to keep his relationship to their zookeeper a secret. Sasha had an affinity for collecting the worst of the worst--creatures whose intentions toward humans and immortals alike were as far from the Immortal Code as could be.
Despite Rhyn’s fury and occasional diversion from the Immortal Codes, he still believed in them, a weakness Sasha was trying to beat out of him since their eldest brother--the peacemaker and enforcer of the Council That Was Seven--sentenced them both to Hell.
"Fuck you, Sasha," he whispered into the darkness, not caring if Sasha heard him or not.
Fuck you, Kris, for making me do what I did, and fuck you, Andre, for pulling the trigger and sending me here with Sasha.
When he was out of Hell, he'd already planned on kicking the ass of their eldest brother, Andre, and killing Kris. The Council That Was Seven would survive without the three of them: Sasha, who'd sold out long ago; Kris, who needed to die; and him, whom Andre'd kill as soon as he killed Kris.
As much as they hate me for aligning with the Dark One, they hate you more for our father's death, Sasha had told him smugly more than once.
It was true, and only Andre supported his petition to be recognized as one of the seven sons charged by their father with protecting humanity against the Dark One. By the time he came of age, his other six brothers had not only come of age but also had each adopted a continent of responsibility. His late birth in the immortal world landed him Antarctica, where he could do little harm with his wild powers.
As much as he hated Hell, he hated Antarctica more.
Restless, he rose and paced again, wondering why Sasha needed an ancient healer in his zoo, a place where creatures came to suffer.
He sensed what Gabriel wouldn't say: things were about to change for him, and he suspected that meant he'd soon be free. Whoever it was he was to protect, even his promise to Gabriel wouldn't stand in his way of revenge.
I'm coming for you, Kris.
***
Katie awoke and readied herself for the world, convinced everything had been a nightmare caused by exhaustion. Her conviction wilted as she stepped from her room into the living room to find the black-clad death dealer seated in an armchair, facing the door as if on guard, with a lethal black sword across his lap. He’d laid his trench over the couch, though he still wore boots and gloves.
"I was hoping you’d be gone."
His gaze settled on her, and she’d wished she’d never spoken. She hid in the kitchen, cold inside once again. Her hands shook as she made tea. The glitter and construction paper picture was back on the fridge with no sign that any fairies had emerged from its depths. She breathed deeply, struggling to remain in control when all she wanted to do was run for the nearest psych ward and check herself in.
She turned and jumped.
"God, I can’t take this! You, out!" she belted at the death dealer, who leaned his hip against the counter and managed to fill up the entrance to the kitchen.
He obeyed, and she gave a growl of frustration. She followed, intent on having her tea by the window as she did every morning.
"Your shit is everywhere!" she snapped. "And what in the name of everything holy are you doing with a sword? Is that even legal?"
“As legal as underage drinking,” he replied, though he moved the sword off her favorite chair and placed it on the trench stretched across her couch. He sat with his hands on his thighs and his eyes straight ahead, like a statue chiseled in Hell itself. He was perfectly still, and she tried to concentrate on her tea.
"This is impossible."
She marched to her bathroom and yanked out the three prescription pill bottles she’d found in her cabinet, reading the labels. She’d done research on the drugs; they were antipsychotics and anti-anxiety pills. She grabbed a second bottle and went to the kitchen for water, dumping out two of each into one hand. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, freezing when a black-gloved hand clamped around her wrist. She looked up at the silent shadow, whose chiseled features were unreadable. He swept up the pills and crushed them in his hand, then released the powder into the sink. He dumped the rest in the garbage disposal and turned it on, returning a few minutes later with the other bottles.
Too afraid to challenge him, she watched him destroy everything. He gave no explanation and headed toward her bedroom. She bit back an order to leave her stuff alone but stopped herself, watching him go through her medicine cabinet for any additional drugs. Satisfied there was nothing left, he tore her prescriptions to bits before returning to the chair and stilling again into a statue.
The living room started to spin and she sat, forcing herself to breathe deeply.
"We can talk." His stoic offer made laughter bubble within her.
"I don’t want to talk! I want my life back!"
"This is your life."
"Absolutely not!” she snapped. “I’m not psychotic, I didn’t have amnesia yesterday, I’ve never had a son! I don’t care what anyone says, not Dr. Williams, not my sister, not you!"
"You weren't supposed to remember anything before Toby appeared in your life," he said.
"What're you talking about?"
He looked at her, a penetrating stare that made her again regret drawing his attention. She couldn’t read his face. He rose and, with methodical patience, swirled the trench around him, placed the sword on the inside with an array of other weaponry and stalked to the door.
All it took was a hissy fit to get rid of him. The door closed behind him. She sagged into the depths of her chair.
"Mama, do I have to go to school today?" Toby called.
She ground her teeth, on the verge of throwing her cup at the wall before her.
***
"It’s not working."
The man in the white lab coat, Ully, jerked from his hunched position over a keyboard, and fear flashed in his eyes. The unease passed quickly as he saw which death dealer stood before him.
"Of course it is," he said, twisting in the chair to face him.
Gabriel leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms in physical disagreement. He rarely spoke, and when he did, people rarely failed to take his words seriously. As the oldest and most revered of the death dealers, only the damned millennial generation failed to flinch when he spoke.
"Okay, so maybe it isn’t," Ully said quickly. "You’re sure?"
Gabriel said nothing but pinned him with a glare that had killed a few men outright.
"Okay, fine."
The brunet scientist leaned forward to hit the intercom button.
"Kris, death dude’s here. We need to talk!" he called cheerfully, then spun and started toward the conference room at the end of a lab that stretched the size of a football field.
Gabriel followed, ignoring the rows of delicate glassware, Bunsen burners, machines, and other science toys that employed the two dozen immortal scientists. The lighting was harsh in the lab; he didn’t remove his sunglasses until they’d entered the romantically lit conference room. The brunet flipped the overhead lights on, and Gabriel flipped them off.
The conference room was silent, the air purified, the lighting perfect. Gabriel sat opposite the door while Ully flung himself into a cushy chair.
"I wondered where that went," the scientist murmured as he withdrew a vial of violet gel from his lab coat. He whistled as he shook it, and the color went from purple to orange.
"This is bad shit," he said to no one in particular. "It’s contaminated."
Gabriel didn’t need to understand modern science. Death dealers were immune to disease, poison, and any other thing humans could throw at them. They had to be, because mankind had been trying to outsmart Death since the beginning of time.
"Gabriel."
The immortal Council's leader, a silver-haired man with violet eyes and a face untouched by time, stood at the entrance. He was one of the oldest warriors among the immortals, a man with the body of a thirty-year-old and the soul of the Ancients.
The scientist, whose name was Ully, replaced the vial and leaned back in his chair.
"Death dude said it’s not working."
Kris raised an eyebrow and turned to Ully.
"Where did we find her?"
"She was referred by another immortal, Giovanni," Ully replied.
"Then what’s the problem?"
"It’s not working," Gabriel said.
"Ully, check the info we got from her," Kris ordered.
The scientist hopped up with a cheerful salute. Kris waited until the door closed.
"You should’ve killed her, Gabe," he said with a frown.
"Sasha wants her as much as Toby."
"Sasha wants a human?"
"Yeah. She's an immortal mate, a special one."
Gabriel knew the impact of his simple words just as he knew the impact of his appearance. Kris’s normally iced features clouded, his violet eyes going green as he thought.
"How special?" Kris asked, the worry lines on his forehead deepening.
"Special enough she's immune to immortal magic."
"That doesn’t make sense," Kris said, and leaned forward. "Unless you're saying…"
Kris looked at him hard.
"Are you saying she's an Ancient's mate?"
Gabriel shrugged. Neither Kris nor Sasha was capable of mercy or empathy. For that sake, neither was he. But an immortal's mate was off hands. An Ancient's mate had never before been found. As the leader of the Council That Was Seven, Kris would be obligated to take the first Ancient mate.
Kris's features clouded, and Gabriel suspected it was because Kris had been with his current lover, Jade, for hundreds of years.
"This isn't good," Kris voiced. "Keep an eye on her and stay my execution order for now. Ully might figure something else out."
"The Council meets in two days," Gabriel reminded him.
"Trust me, I can think of nothing else. Sasha’s planning something big."
"End of the world."
"Your sense of humor couldn’t be worse timed, Gabe."
"You’ll get to see my place finally."
Kris shook his head, his look of disapproval mixed with amusement. Gabriel liked Kris as much as he’d ever liked anyone despite the bad blood between Kris and his half-brother, Rhyn. They were different men with different purposes, yet both honorable to the core.
"You still think you can leave Death when you want?" Kris challenged.
"I’m a guest."
"No such thing."
"I’m an exception. She took me in as a favor to my father and will release me, if I ever wanted it."
Death had her pick of badasses from every generation of man and creature, and she wooed every one with the promise of endless riches and the ability to leave when they chose. His circumstances were different, and they both knew it.
Kris slid two rare green life crystals across the table, the common form of payment for an assassination not ordered by Death herself.
"Two for the girl watching Toby, in case you're right, and someone else grabs her," he said. "Your choice of death for her."
Gabriel took the crystals with a nod. Kris left, and Gabriel closed his eyes, crossing into the shadow world before emerging on the street outside the woman’s apartment building. He watched the people pass as he had every generation of man. He sank into the shadows, at home in the darkness, watching. Always watching. Never a part of the world around him.
Some things never changed, like the blue sky, the sun orb, the grass and oceans. They were constants in a world where humans and their inventions passed through the world, less significant than an exhaled breath. He spent most of his time anymore in the shadow world, except when forced out by Death or called out by someone who wanted to buy an assassination. In the darkness, he was comfortable. In the darkness, he was alone.
In the darkness, he wasn’t reminded of an ache he’d killed long ago, that which reminded him he once knew what it was to feel the warmth of the sun on his human skin.
He took up his position outside of Katie's apartment building to protect Rhyn's mate despite his promise to Death not to break any more Immortal Codes.
***
Katie poured more whiskey into her cocoa. She hadn’t been able to shake the cold she felt and was dressed in layers despite the thermostat being set to eighty. Restless, she took her cocoa into the darkened living room and looked out the window, expecting to see Gabriel lurking across the street. He was there.
"I’m a four-hundred-thousand-year-old angel. I’m a baby in my world. More marshmallows!"
Just when she thought things were weird enough, Toby had started to talk to her. She refused to send him to school or to go to work, determined to figure out what insanity was going on under her roof. Toby’s eyes glowed as small marshmallows tumbled into his cup. He held out his hands. She ignored them and placed the cup on the table before him, then set down her own.
"You’re a four-hundred-thousand-year-old baby," she repeated. "Then you’re not my kid."
"I am!" he replied. "I have to have a human mother."
"You get a new one every eighty years or something?"
"I’m kinda reborn every once in awhile to a new mom."
"And the death dealer is…what?" She asked and pinched her arm. She was still awake.
"He’s Death’s hit man."
"Of course, why not." She poured more whiskey into her cocoa. Alcohol had replaced Hannah in her life when she left.
Toby chewed on the crackers she’d placed before him, crumbs and chunks going all over his pj’s. He didn’t look like a four-hundred-thousand-year-old angel trapped in a five-year-old’s body.
"His name is Gabriel. He’s way older than me. I see him every few dozen years, usually when he’s coming to kill my mama. He’s cool."
She gripped her head.
"Gabriel, fairies!" Toby exclaimed.
She turned and gasped, heart leaping to see the death dealer lingering like the shadow he was in the middle of her living room. His eyes glowed darker than night, two black holes in his otherwise indistinguishable face. She groped for the nearest light and flipped it on, unsettled by the man even in the warm lamplight.
"Toby says you’re going to kill me," she said, heart hammering.
"Not yet."
"Not yet?" she echoed. "You have a date in mind you’d like to share?"
"No."
"Soon, not soon?"
"No," he said.
"Look, I get that no one survives life, but I’d like to know when you plan on taking me out so I can plan a few things, say farewell to my sister, maybe prepay for my burial!" she demanded, hearing the hysterics enter her voice.
"There won’t be a body to bury."
Her mouth dropped open.
"Gabriel takes people to the underworld, body and all," Toby explained as he grasped the large man’s gloved hand. "Fairies!"
The death dealer went obediently to the kitchen. Katie’s hands shook. She followed them and set her cocoa down on the counter, grabbing the whiskey and retreating with the intent of drinking herself to sleep. Gabriel’s hand snaked out as she passed, and he yanked the bottle neatly from her hand. She snatched at it, and he pushed her away.
"Immortal Code," he stated.
Keeping her away with one hand, he dumped its contents into the sink. She watched, and then stalked out, furious and frustrated. After he destroyed all her drugs, she’d suspected he’d react this way and had hidden another bottle in her bedroom.
She slammed her door and rested her head against it, wondering how long this would continue before her head exploded. Or when Gabriel the death dealer killed her. She withdrew the final bottle of whiskey from beneath the bed. It was wrenched away from her, and she grated her teeth.
"No," Gabriel said. He held up the bottle and retreated to the bathroom.
She jerked her door open and grabbed her coat. She didn’t care if she left a five-year-old kid home alone, not when he was a four-hundred-thousand-year-old angel! He had someone better than an army watching him. He had death’s personal assistant.
She walked out onto the sidewalk, shivering in the cold.
I usually only see him when he comes to kill my mama.
The words echoed in her head, and she walked blindly for several moments, until the cold burning her lungs made her stop. She’d been seen by a doctor who’d been dead twenty years, was babysitting a four-hundred-thousand-year-old angel, and the grim reaper spent the night on her couch.
Things really couldn’t get much stranger.
"Ms. Young, I need a blood sample."
The man who spoke stood behind her. He was tall with glasses, a brunet ponytail, and a goofy grin. His lab coat was all the overcoat he wore, and he hopped in place beside a beat-up VW Bug whose engine coughed as if it were on its last leg.
"Let me guess, you work for a dead doctor," she said, crossing her arms.
"Oh, no!" he said with a laugh. "Technically, I am a dead doctor."
"Unbelievable."
"No, no, it’s a really good story. I got to meet Death and everything."
She turned on her heel and walked.
"Please, Katie!" he begged. "No girls ever visit my lab, and Kris rarely lets me leave. Just one pinprick."
"You know Ted Bundy drove a VW Bug, right?" she challenged.
He opened the passenger door with a hopeful smile. She climbed in wordlessly, not surprised to find it cold. The vents rattled without producing heat.
"It’s not far," he said with a cheerful smile despite his shaking body. "I’m Ully."
True to his word, they drove less than two blocks before he entered a public parking garage and drove to the bottommost floor and parked in a dark corner with yellow no-parking lines. He turned off the car and touched the garage door opener on the sunshade above him, whistling as he waited. She jerked as the ground lurched below them, lowering them slowly through the thick cement layers into a tunnel wide enough for a dump truck.
He started the car again and drove through a series of tunnels and intersections, a virtual underground street grid, before arriving at a large garage filled with gleaming cars.
She trailed him to an elevator that took them even further underground. Her headache was returning, her heart beating so fast she knew she’d pass out if she didn’t calm down. Her deep breaths drew Ully’s dark eyes.
He smiled in encouragement and led her off the elevator and through a series of cheerfully lit hallways with pictures on the walls and wood floors. He swiped a badge to enter what she imagined was the Mecca of all science labs, with rows of stainless steel, machines, computers, and glass. He parked himself at a computer, and she perched on a stool beside him.
"What is all this?" she breathed.
The air was cool and clear, as crisp as a fall day.
"Only the best lab ever!"
His enthusiasm for the underground world only made her feel more nauseous. He took her hand and pricked her finger. The pain and the sight of her blood made her vision dim. She fell into the in-between place, only vaguely aware of his panicked response as she sagged against him or of the muscular form that lifted her from the floor and carried her away.
The pungent smelling salts snapped her out of the in-between place. She swiped the hand away, blinking to clear her gaze as she stared into a fire. The hearth blazed opposite her position on a plush sofa with buttery leather in a small study with Persian carpets. She thought the man before her old because of his silver until her vision cleared and she saw his face.
His white-silver hair was long and clasped at his neck, his bronzed face and forest-green eyes displaying no emotion. His features were chiseled, the firelight casting harsh shadows across the planes of his face. He was muscular and tall, clothed in dark jeans, a snug grey T-shirt that hugged his biceps and stretched across his chest and back and then sagged at his slender torso and hips, and a round black medallion that fell from his T-shirt as he leaned over her.
"Ully," he growled, turning to face the scientist.
Ully was pale.
Katie pushed herself up, startled by the stickiness on her hand. She looked down and saw the sleeve of her sweater soaked in blood.
"I am so sorry!" Ully gushed, stricken. "You fell, and I tried to catch you, but then you kind of veered to one side and I grabbed your arm but then you--"
"Out."
Ully frowned but obeyed the white-haired man’s command. Katie sat up, wondering why her hand didn’t hurt. It shook, and she was even colder.
"I don’t know what you are, but I couldn’t heal you. You owe Gabriel one," the silver-haired man said. He squatted beside her, wrapping her arm in a clean white towel before he rose and strode to the desk along the far wall. He picked up what looked like a medical file and became as still as the death dealer, as if forgetting her presence completely.
Her eyes skimmed his perfect, buff body before the pain in her hand finally registered. She tugged off her wool coat with some effort. Blood soaked her towel, and she stood.
"Do you have a restroom?"
He jabbed his thumb toward the wall behind him, where she made out the slender nickel doorknob in the space between two shelves of ancient books. He didn’t acknowledge her as she entered the surprisingly large bathroom. She winced and pulled the towel free then turned on the water as hot as she could stand. She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering when she’d started looking like a pound dog. She glanced down to watch the blood stream down the drain then held up her arm.
It was healed, just as he said.
She flipped both hands front and back and looked at the blood-soaked towel and the sleeve of her sweater. Her hands both worked. With a sigh, she cleaned up the area as well as she could and pulled off the sweater, as it was warm enough in the study with her T-shirt.
She looked like shit. There were dark circles beneath her light eyes, her hair was in a half-assed lumpy ponytail, and her face was so pale and drawn, she looked ill.
Was this what crazy looked like? She breathed out another sigh and righted her ponytail, then splashed water on her face. Emerging from the bathroom, she was confronted by a pacing Ully.
"I, uh, dropped your blood sample," he said with a glance at the figure with his back toward them both. "Could I get another?"
She handed him the towel. He hesitated then took it and left. The silver-haired man made no move at all.
"I need--" she said finally.
"Have a seat."
His order was calm, the slight accent in his voice foreign. She stared at the back of his head, a chill running through her. Her move toward the fire was reflected in a small mirror behind the desk in front of which he stood.
He had no reflection.
She squeezed her eyes closed and breathed deeply, swaying. His touch made her jerk away and her eyes snap open. She stared at him, backing out of his reach until the back of her knees hit a chair and she dropped into it.
His eyes had changed color to a deep violet-blue, a beautiful shade of tanzanite. She felt cold again on the inside and shivered. He looked away finally and returned to his desk.
"Are you all right?" he asked in a measured tone.
She cleared her throat and said simply, "Yes."
As if sensing the weight of the word, he turned, brow furrowed. He perched on the edge of the desk, the fire casting shadows across his perfect, chiseled features. Any other day, she’d have stared at his hard body and the way his jeans hugged his muscular thighs and the round globes of his backside, or the T-shirt that fit so well.
"What’s your name?" he asked.
"Katie."
"How did you get in my lab?"
"Ully brought me."
"From the Outside?" He crossed his arms, displaying his displeasure without his face changing.
She nodded. "You must be Kris."
"I am."
"Ully said you don’t let him out much."
"I don’t," Kris agreed.
"And that he was once a dead doctor."
"Yeah."
She shuddered. They gazed at each other for a long moment, her shock and exhaustion too deep to fear the man who radiated power and control, even in a simple T-shirt. Tattoos of interlinked geometric shapes glowed on his arms before fading.
"Why do you need my blood?" she asked.
"Ully’s testing it. It’s what he does."
"Dr. Williams said my blood tests were unusual."
His eyes turned from tanzanite to deep emerald. She shivered again.
"I need a shot of whiskey," she said.
For a long moment, she didn’t think he’d agree, if not because of how young she looked, then because of how shitty she looked. At last he moved around the desk to a dark corner and withdrew a crystal carafe from a locked cabinet.
"Don’t give me your good stuff. I don’t intend to savor it," she warned.
He gave her an amused look, then poured her three shots worth of whiskey and handed it to her. She downed a mouthful, grimacing at the burn that went down her throat and all the way to her gut.
"I can’t get warm any other way," she admitted, and took another gulp.
"You’re in shock," he surmised.
"No argument there. I have a feeling you know already what the past two days have been like."
"Tell me."
"No, thanks."
He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms again. She really didn’t give a damn if he wasn’t used to being challenged. She finished her whiskey and sat back in the chair, its warmth chasing away her internal chill. For now.
"Do Gabriel and Toby work for you?" she asked.
"In a sense."
"What does that mean?"
"Death dealers don’t work for anyone really, just Death, though I do buy assassinations from him on occasion," he said.
Buy assassinations, like he was ordering a new couch for his study.
"Oh," she managed. "And Toby, the baby…angel?"
"I’m his guardian, yes." His gaze had sharpened.
"And you randomly assign him new moms every few dozen years and then send Gabriel to pick them off at the end," she summariezed.
"More or less."
"Do you ever bother to see if the moms want to have a baby angel in their lives?"
"I don’t think I’ve ever had a human question me," he stated, eyes flashing golden topaz.
"It’s really not cool to use women like this," she replied. "Even if we are puny humans."
"You’re the first to object."
"No offense, but I’m under the impression the others didn’t have a chance to object."
A light tap sounded at the door.
"What, Ully?" he belted.
She jumped, unaware she’d ruffled him despite the calm exterior. Ully opened the door without entering, his gaze fluttering from her to the angry non-human.
"I, uh, kinda need to talk to you, bossman, if you’re cool with that," Ully said.
The man with the jewel-toned eyes strode across the study without a look at her. She waited until the door closed before crossing to the carafe and refilling her glass. His anger surprised her with its intensity, and she judged from Ully’s reaction that seeing the lord and master pissed was not something the good-natured mad scientist wanted anything to do with. She didn’t know what he was, but if he routinely played with the lives of puny humans and bought assassinations…
She drank the caramel liquid too fast and was soon too dizzy to stand.
***
"I thought something was weird based on what death dude said," Ully said, stepping back from the rotating DNA molecule on the screen with a triumphant smile.
"Antigens? You’re saying she’s allergic to us?" a skeptical blonde woman with striking blue-green eyes asked.
Kris glanced at her and then back at the screen. His trusted deputies--the slender blonde Iliana and the raven-haired gigantor Jade with cocoa skin--sat across from him. Death dude sat at the back of the conference room, out of the glare of the screen.
"Sort of," Ully said. "Basically these antigens are acting as a screening agent."
"Meaning…?" Jade waved his hand impatiently.
"Meaning she’s immune to many of our talents," Kris supplied with a frown. "How, Ully?"
"It’s genetic."
"So one of her parents was like us?" Iliana asked, tapping a hot pink fingernail.
"Not exactly. It’s kind of like…" Ully looked around and stretched for the pen on the table. "If immortals are pens, and normal humans are number two pencils, then she’s a mechanical pencil."
"What?" Jade demanded.
"She’s a hybrid," Iliana said, realization dawning on her face. "Kris…"
"Yeah, I know."
"She's also an immortal's mate," Ully added.
Kris studied the DNA molecule, now certain the woman's appearance spelled certain danger for him. His gaze settled on Jade's familiar features, and he studied his companion of so many years. Jade was everything he admired: brave, compassionate, dedicated. Loyal. He didn't doubt his second and his lover would move on, if Kris chose to take the woman as his mate. Yet he wondered if he could ever care for another the way he did Jade.
His duty as the leader of the fractured Council always came first. Jade's duty would, too. He'd found peace with Jade after Rhyn killed his first love, Lilith. But Jade was like most immortals: he'd only ever loved other men, whereas Kris valued mettle over sex.
As he weighed if he'd be forced to choose between someone he loved and an immortal's mate with a desirable gift, he couldn't help thinking Jade wouldn't take breaking up well. His love had a temper. It would take him a while to recover.
"We have two issues," Ully continued, sitting. "There’s never been a mutation like this in the history of our people. If it’s hereditary, then the mutation has been hidden from us for, like, maybe even hundreds of thousands of years. Second, I can duplicate the DNA with some time in my lab and isolate the antigen, meaning I can make someone immune to our enemies' powers."
"Or they can make someone immune to us," Jade said.
Kris felt the intent gazes of both of his deputies, who left the obvious unvoiced. They were in more trouble than he’d thought once the Council convened.
"We know a few things," he started. "One, Sasha probably knows about her by now. Two, someone in our organization knew what she was when they set her up to be Toby’s human guardian."
"Good job, death dude!" Ully cheered, earning him the scathing look of Jade.
"She’s immune to all but the most ancient of us. The mutation started sometime after our births, Kris," Gabriel voiced.
Surprised, Kris eyed him. "You know more than you’re telling me?" he challenged. "This isn’t a secret you’re sworn to protect."
Amusement flashed across the death dealer’s face, and Gabriel shook his head.
"Ully, do a full workup on her parents, grandparents, as far back as she remembers. Find any siblings and get their blood. We need to know how many people have this mutation and where they are," Kris ordered.
Ully bounced up.
"And Ully, be discreet," Kris added. "No more stalking and kidnapping."
The lab rat flushed but saluted and ducked out of the room.
"The Council meets in a few," Jade commented. "Do we return her and pretend we don’t know or keep her where they can’t get her?"
It’s not cool to use women like that.
Kris had never heard anything so ridiculous. No human--nor most of those in his organization--would dream of speaking to him like that. And yet, she had without fear. Shock did much to humans, he knew, but she was either crazy or incredibly stupid to challenge someone like him.
Worse, they’d never run across this type of issue in all their years. That it emerged now, when the Council was on the verge of disintegrating, couldn’t be a coincidence.
"Jade, send some men to her apartment and dig around. Check on Toby while you’re there. Iliana, we have a Council meeting to attend in a couple of hours."
"You want them to take her back?" Jade asked.
"Yeah. Take her back and post guards everywhere you can. I want to see what Sasha’s planning."
"You shouldn’t go alone to the Council meeting," Jade warned.
"It’s the way it is."
"Someday, one of you is gonna snap and take out the others."
"Let’s hope it’s me," Kris said with a small smile.
"If you wouldn’t take out half the continent doing so, I wouldn’t care. C’mon, death dude. Let’s get her to her apartment. Travel safely, Kris."
Gabriel followed them out obediently, content to hang around them while bored.
Kris traveled via shortcuts through the shadow world as Gabriel did and willed himself to the in-between world. It was foggy and chilly, like a walk on the beach after the fog rolled in. Several portals glowed, and he strode across the silent domain toward the portal he needed. He emerged from the shadow world in a luxurious penthouse suite in Paris overlooking the Arc de Triomphe.
"You Americans. Jeans and T-shirt, Kris, really?" Andre asked.
Kris dismissed his uneasy thoughts at his eldest brother's accented voice. He shook the hand of his brother and friend, whose night-colored skin clashed with his. Andre was dressed in cashmere and wool, his hair kept short and neat, his loafers more expensive than Kris’s conference room had cost to build.
"Got nothing to prove, big brother," Kris said.
Andre snorted and motioned to the pristine white sofa. Kris sat.
"I wasn’t expecting you," Andre said. He crossed to the wet bar for two glasses, one with red wine and the other with whiskey. "I keep this cheap shit around just in case."
"I like the cheap shit," Kris replied, accepting his whiskey.
"You obviously clothes shop at yard sales."
Kris smiled, and Andre did as well, the skin around his eyes crinkling in warmth.
"I hate these meetings with our brothers," Andre admitted. "I’d rather stay home. Brother, go change. You’re not going to embarrass me again."
Kris chuckled, at ease with his brother despite the unprotected penthouse on the top floor of a building that could be easily leveled by a single explosive charge. Being underground meant he was a much harder target to hit, yet despite his attempts to convince his brother to act likewise, he’d not yet succeeded.
He went through one of Andre’s two walk-in closets, choosing a maroon sweater and chocolate suede pants. He knew his brother would disapprove but also knew Andre would view it better than jeans.
Andre pursed his lips in displeasure as Kris reappeared.
"Good enough," his brother grunted. "One of my most expensive shirts with the pants that went out of season five years ago."
"How’s your spy network?" Kris asked as he poured himself a second glass of whiskey.
"Eh, not so hot lately,” Andre replied. “I’ve been losing some good ones. Still have an idea of what Kiki and Tamer are doing but no idea what Erik is doing."
"You keeping track of me as well?"
"Part of an older brother’s duty."
Kris sat opposite his brother. Their alliance off the Council was as important as their balance of power on the Council. Despite being brothers, neither approved of what the other did. Andre’s gift lent him great power and control over the mind, enough so that he had no problem recruiting spies as the others did. He was a pacifist, though, and viewed his position on the Council as balancing out the outwardly aggressive predators.
Andre was no threat to the others yet had a full vote on everything the Council did. It was how he walked easily among all the others, never threatened and routinely confided in. Even Sasha, who'd betrayed them all to serve the Dark One, still sought out his brother's counsel. Kris knew his brother too well to know he’d not betray the trust of anyone, even a man who wanted to kill him.
Next to Kris's whiskey Andre kept at the wet bar was Tamer’s favorite vodka, Kiki’s rice wine, and Erik’s diet soda, as if he were expecting one of them at any time.
"What about Sasha?" Kris asked quietly.
"He’s killed my last few spies. Got a good one in there now. Getting a lot of good info out of this one."
"Good to hear. You ready?"
Andre held out his hand. Kris took it and they walked through the shadow world through the portal leading to the Sanctuary where the Council meetings took place. His three other half brothers were already present and waiting, Erik pacing, Kiki at the table, and Tamer busy with his PDA. The conference room was plain, the white walls bare, the harsh lighting and round conference table centered.
"Let’s go, brothers," Andre said. He sat, leaning back. "Shall we start with Asia this time? Kiki?"
"We started with Asia last time," Kiki snapped, oriental features, turquoise eyes and towering height marking his mixed breeding.
"Very well. Europe," Andre said, unaffected. "Erik."
"Everything’s fine."
"Erik."
"The last time I said anything, all my men in North America disappeared. Kris, care to explain?" Erik challenged, ice blue eyes falling to him.
"Nope," Kris said.
"Erik’s right, brother," Kiki said. "We can’t talk freely like we used to."
"We have a common enemy," Andre reminded them. "One who would like us divided so he can take over our world."
"I’ll start," Kris said. "Today, we found someone who’s immune to our powers."
All eyes turned to him.
"What do you mean, immune?" Tamer pounced. "There’s no such thing."
"She has a hereditary blood anomaly that makes her immune to all but the oldest of our kind. We just found out and are researching it."
"Bullshit," Kiki snapped. "If you know that much, you know more."
"Think what you will, Kiki."
"Have you tested her?" Andre asked.
"We discovered her when she proved unaffected by one of our typical talents," Kris said.
"She’s a spy for Sasha," Erik said. "Probably revealed your entire operations by now."
"Not likely," Kris replied.
"I don’t believe any of this nonsense," Tamer insisted. "She’s a plant. Like Erik said, she’s some mutant Sasha made to infiltrate your operations."
"Maybe you’re the mole, brother," Kiki added.
The four stared at him. Kris didn’t flinch. He'd long since suspected one of them was working with Sasha, but it wasn’t him. If anyone, it was Tamer, whose isolation in Siberia and ability to outsmart Andre’s spies gave him the ability to hide his actions.
"Bring her here," Tamer said.
"No," Kris said.
"Then I’m not going to believe a damned thing you’re saying."
"And I won’t share how to counter her mutation so you don’t end up at Sasha’s feet."
"Fuck you, Kris!"
"Enough," Andre said with a sharp look at both of them. "Kris, the Council will need some sort of proof that this isn’t another ploy by one of you to wipe out the others. It’s been calm for the past few hundred years, but I don’t think any of us have forgotten that five hundred year period where we were at each other’s throats."
And they’d lost two of their brothers to the war. Andre himself had ordered the exiles of Rhyn and Sasha to Hell when it was revealed what they were. He didn’t say this, but Kris knew it was on everyone’s mind.
"Would you object to my visiting her?" Andre finished.
"Nope," Kris said.
"Good enough, Tamer?"
"For now," Tamer allowed. "No compartmentalizing this info, Andre. It’s a common threat to all of us. According to the rules, we get to know everything."
"Everything," Kiki emphasized.
"You are entitled to know of anything that threatens you," Andre clarified. "As you know, I’m the only one here who actually adheres to our rules."
The others smiled. There was one rule they all knew better than to break, or Andre would order them killed. So long as they didn’t put out a hit on one another, they could decimate each other at their own battles, lie, cheat, spy, steal, anything and everything.
"Other news," Andre said. "Kiki."
"Everything’s fine."
"Kris?"
"Ditto."
"Tamer?"
"Same."
"Erik?"
"Nope."
Andre pursed his lips again. Kris sat back, satisfied. He’d done as required and alerted them about a potential threat. As far as he was concerned, he’d do nothing else, even if he learned how to counter it.
"Same time and place next month," Andre said, standing. "These meetings need to improve, brothers. We are not one another’s enemies, and we’ll never defeat our common enemy so long as we’re squabbling."
No one spoke. Kris remained where he was, aware they’d destroy each other if allowed. Their turf wars and battle against the Dark One--and now Sasha--had stirred up some of the bloodiest wars in mankind’s history.
One by one, the others left, until he was alone with Andre.
"No one knows her identity, and no one else sees her," Kris said firmly. "We don’t know what she is yet, but I won’t hesitate to attack my brothers if they try to take her."
"You know me well enough, brother," Andre replied.
"I’ll send for you."
"What are you not telling me, Kris?" Andre pressed with brotherly concern in his voice. "There's something else to this human, isn't there?"
Kris looked away. "She's an immortal mate."
"Not uncommon," Andre replied. "What else?"
Kris chuckled, aware his older brother could wait him out.
"She's an Ancient's mate."
"Ah," Andre said softly. "Then you're in a bind, if you intend to claim her."
"Can't leave this one to fate," Kris said in the same quiet tone. "But there’s Jade. Do you…"
"You and I have always put the Council and our mission first," Andre reminded him. "Now is not the time to doubt yourself. Of all our brothers, you are the only one who can lead us to victory. If this woman gives you the power to do so…"
Kris said nothing, feeling at once foolish and like he was the child Andre used to chastise for failing to focus on his duties. Andre clasped his shoulder, bowed his head, and disappeared.
Kris willed himself to the shadow world and walked back to his underground refuge, heart heavy. Jade awaited him, as he expected. Kris accepted the glass of whiskey but avoided Jade's extended hand.
His lover of many years sensed his unease and waited for him to speak.
"The woman we found is an immortal's mate," he started.
"I know," Jade said, seating himself. "You have someone in mind for her?"
"I do."
Jade waited, and Kris held his gaze in silence. He watched the expectant look turn to one of disbelief. Jade's jaw grew lax before he managed to speak.
"You're serious?"
"I'm bound by my duty," Kris replied.
"But this? You'd leave me for her?"
"Not by choice, Jade. Her talent can--"
"You can mate her to one of our friends! There's no--" Jade pointed out.
"She's an Ancient's mate, not just any immortal's mate," Kris explained.
"Give her to Andre."
"Jade."
His gut twisted as raw emotion crossed Jade's face. His friend and lover searched his face hard, then rose and stalked out.
Kris let him go despite his desire to follow him. There was nothing he could say that would take away the pain he'd just caused.
He poured himself more whiskey and sat on the sofa, feeling utterly alone for the second time in his life.
His gaze strayed to the desk, where Katie's file sat. He'd go to her apartment tomorrow and explain to her what her fate was about to become. He suspected the conversation would go as well as his talk with Jade.
His chest felt tight, but he refused to admit his pain.
***
Jade stormed out of the study and shoved past two warriors in the hallway. Blinded by emotion, he made his way out of the underground compound without knowing where he went. He broke into a run when he reached the country road leading away from the compound.
He ran until his pounding heart drowned out his pounding feet. Cold air made his lungs ache, and he slowed then stopped, buckling over to catch his breath.
The pain in his chest couldn't equate with the pain and distress shooting through him like cold fire. He dropped to his knees and wiped messily at the snot streaming from his nose and the tears frozen to his cheeks.
Images of Kris, his only love in two thousand years, swam through his thoughts. He remembered everything from where they met, their first kiss, their first night together. The memories collided and tortured him, replaying with painful detail.
He'd never felt pain this intense in any of his battles!
He roared and slammed his fists against the ground.
"Kris's pet."
He whirled at the all too familiar voice and sprung to his feet.
"Sasha!"
"Hello, Jade," Sasha purred.
Jade straightened, eyeing the dark figure with bright eyes.
"Looks like the shape you left me in," Sasha said, "when you ditched me for dear Kris."
"Get away from me!"
"Who'd he leave you for?"
Jade said nothing, pain spiraling through him.
"He left you for someone," Sasha insisted, drawing near.
"What do you want, Sasha?"
"My lover is in pain, and you ask me why I'm here?"
"We've been through for hundreds of years," Jade replied.
"True. I still feel when you're upset. We've always had that bond."
Jade knew he should've walked away the moment Sasha appeared. He found himself lingering, wanting to feel a little less alone. Sasha was their enemy.
Kris's enemy.
He faced Sasha, recalling the years they'd spent together. He broke off their relationship when Kris took interest in him and soon after, Kris convinced Andre to banish Sasha to Hell.
Trying to convince himself he was too angry to think straight, Jade shook his head and turned away.
"Whether or not you still care for me, you care for him. Let me help you, Jade." Sasha's voice stopped him again. "A favor from an old friend who doesn't want to see you in pain."
"I don’t trust you, Sasha."
"You did once, long ago. Come and sit with me, like old times. I'll take your pain away."
Jade squeezed his eyes closed and said hoarsely, "No one can help me."
"I can. Come with me. An hour is all I ask. If you tell me to leave at the end of it, I'll never bother you again."
He hesitated, at war with himself. There was nothing Sasha could ever say, nothing he could ever do in an hour. But right now, Jade needed someone who understood him, as only Sasha always had.
"One hour," Jade said. "Then you leave me alone forever."
"Deal," Sasha said. "Come with me, my love."
***
"Katie, your kid’s on line two!" one of the cooks shouted back to her.
She looked from the computer screen to the phone with the flashing red light. She sat in the general manager's office of the fast food joint where she'd worked for a couple of months six months. The office was small but clean and smelled of fried food. The general manager was on maternity leave, and Katie rifled through several drawers before locating a bottle of painkillers. She was hungover and tired, with a roiling stomach and headache, yet she managed to make it to work before the breakfast rush. Only after she tossed back a couple of painkillers did she pick up the phone.
"What’s up, Toby?"
"Hi! I didn’t want to go to school today and stayed home but we’re out of marshmallows and Gabriel doesn’t have any money so I told him that we could ask you to pick up more marshmallows because we both really like them."
"You need anything else from the store?" she asked, her head hurting more.
"Nope. Oh, but you might want to get some…Gabriel, what does he like?"
She heard a mumbled response.
"Oh, never mind. Kris will send a car for you."
"Kris? Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"He wants to talk to you."
"Tell him I kinda have a life and don’t really care what he wants."
There was a moment of silence, then a child’s gleeful laugh. "Can I really tell him that?" Toby asked.
"Please do."
"Awesome!"
"Listen, I’ve got work to do,” she said. “I’ll bring you marshmallows. Text me if you need anything else."
"Okay! G’bye, Mama!"
"Don’t call me that. We both know better," she grumbled.
He laughed again, and she hung up, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. She’d fallen asleep in Kris’s library after half a bottle of whiskey and awoken in her own bed with a throbbing headache and dry mouth.
She’d dared to hope again that everything was a hallucination brought on by too much alcohol, until Toby burst in chasing a cat she didn’t remember owning. The boy had clambered across her bed, shrieked happily, and chased the cat under the bed.
"Katie! Visitor!" one of the cashier girls said with a jarring knock.
Katie sighed and sat up straight a second before the door was pushed open to reveal someone she didn’t know. The stranger was well dressed, tall, and handsome with eyes too dark and still for her comfort.
"Ms. Young, I’m David Kingsly, from Kingsly Enterprises."
Surprised, she rose and shook his hand. His multimillionaire father's picture was on the wall, and he owned two dozen restaurants in the Annapolis area, including this one.
"It’s a pleasure, sir. I apologize for the mess. I wasn’t expecting you. Are you here for the GM?" she asked, flustered the GM hadn’t warned her about his visit. “I can call her.”
"No, no. I drop by on occasion to check on my father’s restaurants," he said with a quick glance around. "The GM said your team came up with the latest marketing campaign. I wanted to thank you in person. It's increased profits about seven percent over last quarter."
"Thanks," she said, smiling. "We have a good group here."
"A good leader makes a good team the best, as my father says."
Despite the honor of his visit, she couldn’t help but feel a trickle of familiar coldness at his still gaze. He smiled but his eyes did not. He resembled his father in height and narrow face, though there was warmth in his father’s face she didn’t see in his. For a moment, she thought she saw tattoos blaze across his neck and then disappear.
"We intended to invite the GM to our fundraiser tomorrow night, before I was told she’s on maternity leave. My father feels it’s important to recognize all those who support our family’s success. We’d be happy if you attended our gala in her place." He reached into his jacket and produced an embossed invitation in peach and brown.
"I’d be honored," she said, accepting it. "Thank you, Mr. Kingsly."
"David," he said with another smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "I look forward to seeing you there."
He rose and left, and she stared after him, excited for the first good day in months. She dialed her sister immediately.
"Sis, I need some help," she said as soon as Hannah answered.
"Oh. Another issue?"
"No. I was invited to some Kingsly gala. I need something to wear."
"Some Kingsly gala or the biggest event of the fall?" her sister asked with a laugh.
The sound of Hannah’s voice made Katie long for something more familiar than her world had become.
"Hey--you mind if I come over after work?” she asked. “Toby’s…going to a friend’s house for the night, and I’m sick of my apartment."
"Yeah, sure. You were supposed to come for brunch tomorrow anyway. I’d planned a spa day tomorrow before the gala. We can add shopping to that; I know you don’t have anything nice to wear."
Katie rolled her eyes. A day and a half with her sister was as much as she could tolerate; faced with the alternative of returning to her creepy apartment with its creepy occupants, she’d tough it out.
She survived the day of bitching customers and employees alike and arrived late in the evening to Hannah's, a mansion in the outskirts of Annapolis where her sister lived with her fiancé, Giovanni.
Hannah opened the front door before Katie reached it, took one look at her and frowned fiercely.
"You couldn’t change before showing up?" she asked, looking past her out at the street.
"It's not like you have neighbors, sis," Katie replied impatiently. "Afraid I'll make you look bad in front of the 'hood?"
"With the money Gio paid for you to go to Georgetown, you'd think you could last a full semester or at least get a better job than this!" Hannah started.
Katie sighed. Hannah stood aside as she entered the large foyer, lecturing her as they ascended to the second floor. Katie knew the mansion well enough after living with Hannah and Giovanni for a year before the fight that made Hannah force Gio to rush out to get Katie an apartment, for fear she’d run away to Europe like she swore.
"…how expensive Georgetown is, Katherine!" Hannah continued.
"I know, Hannah."
"You're eighteen, a single mom, and you've got a shitty job and frankly, a shitty attitude about your future. Why do you smell like alcohol?"
Katie pushed the door to her designated guest room and stripped out of the grease-stained, French fry scented clothing. Hannah continued on the same speech Katie heard every time they were together.
"You know I'm just concerned," Hannah finished. "Toby--"
"He'll be fine," Katie bit off. "I came here for a break, Hannah."
"Gio and I are worried. Everywhere you work, you're recognized for being the brilliant person I know you are. Why can't you pick an office job or at least try to go to school?"
"I don't know, Hannah. I'm not sure what I want to do with my life," Katie said. “And with Toby in the picture …”
"Well, do something! You owe your child to keep him off welfare."
Katie flung herself on the bed. Despite Hannah’s criticisms, she would still rather be here than at her apartment, even knowing Hannah would never believe her story about Toby and the death dealer.
"I'm assuming you already ate," Hannah said, nose crinkling. "Take a shower and come down to say hello to Gio. He's letting me buy your gown for tomorrow, so you might as well be nice to him."
With a sigh, Katie pushed herself off the bed and obeyed.