Authors: Nicole Williams
I kept my expression flat because his gaze didn’t move from mine. I didn’t want him to censor this part of Immortal destruction because of my internal fear showing itself on my face.
“The energy that runs within us is transitive. It is exchanged between one another when we touch. It can even be exchanged without physical touch when the tie is strong between two beings.”
This
, I was familiar with.
“When an Immortal has broken one of our codes and is sentenced to death, this transient energy—that is naturally exuded with touch—is pulled in vast, compressed quantities from the Immortal by the team carrying out the punishment.”
“Big whoop-dee-doo.” Chris twirled his index finger. “So what do I do with all the extra time on my hands now if I have to get the Council’s approval before I can have any fun with my gift?”
“As I mentioned yesterday, in addition to your gifts and the missions you will be tasked with, you will have a Station,” William said, gliding back to the chalkboard and grabbing up the piece of chalk I was still watching. “As young Immortals, your Stations will be menial—maybe a groundskeeper or a cook here at Townsend Manor.”
“A cook?” Annabelle repeated, her face wrinkling with its displeasure.
“Every Station is critical to our ultimate goal. As you mature and prove yourself, your Station will as well.”
“So, other than glorified dishwasher and lawnmower, what could we hope to
mature
into?” Chris asked, and I wondered if in his Mortality, he’d sounded as sarcastic and troubled as he did in Immortality.
“There are hundreds of Stations, Chris,” William answered, his patience with the Immortal on my left much more advanced than my own. “For example, you could become a Professor or an Instructor, or perhaps an Enforcer—”
“An Enforcer?” Chris said, leaning forward in his chair.
“They’re the Immortal equivalent of police. They see to it that our codes are followed, and if they are not, it is their duty to remind the errant Immortal.” I could make an educated guess what Ben and Troy’s stations were, and which code they’d been
reminding
William of.
“That sounds like my kind of Station. Is it too early to put in my request to be considered for an Enforcer position when I’ve proved myself after a few decades?” Chris’s eyebrows danced.
“Try a few millennia,” I mumbled to Annabelle.
“So, there’s actually some wit behind that pretty layer of skin, eh?” Chris’s eyes trailed down my body as he leaned over and whispered, “What else have you got hiding in there?”
My temper, which had never been much of a vice before this lanky Immortal entered my life, exploded. I didn’t consciously command it, but somehow my right hand balled into a fist, and just as I was contemplating my target—his throat, nose or mouth—our professor lost his normal cool, and interrupted my right hook.
William skirted around the table and stood over Chris “You’re excused.” William’s eyes pointed at the door.
Chris narrowed his eyes in reciprocation at the formidable professor glowering over him. Chris shot up in his chair, sending it backwards to the ground, and marched from the library. He glanced back at me with a look that made me feel he’d never hated anything more in his life.
“I’m sorry about that, ladies,” William said, recovering himself. “It can be difficult for new Immortals to accept the change with as much grace as you two. I think we can make an educated guess as to what Chris’s additional gift might be.” He winked, and by Annabelle’s response, I could tell she’d thought the wink all for her.
“Surliness . . . extreme surliness.”
The door slammed shut, and an electric surge announced his arrival. “Miss me?” he whispered from behind, as his arms ringed around my waist, making the half day sitting next to Chris entirely worth it.
“Maybe a little,” I answered, twisting in his arms. I was just readying my lips to rest over his when his eyes flashed towards the door.
“Someone’s coming.”
Before he could remove his entangled arms from me, I weaved out of them and shot over to the chaise, grabbing up the throw pillow and heaving into a sitting position at the same moment the door groaned open.
Stella sashayed into the room, her beauty lighting up the room like a magnesium bomb going off. Her hips swayed to the beat of her footsteps as she approached William, not even sparing a look in my direction. Not that I could blame her, everything around William blurred into obscurity.
“Dinner will be waiting for you on the South patio tonight,” her cupid-shaped lips announced. “It will be ready in just a few minutes.”
“We’ll be there shortly.” William shot her a brief glance, and then turned to me, eyeing me scrupulously.
Stella must have left, for I heard the door shut, but even in all her goddess-like beauty, she was no match for the man before me when he held me with his stare.
He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?”
Simple enough question, and in the past, whenever anyone had ever asked me the same thing, it had been a simple enough answer of yes or no. However, William’s inquiry unsettled me so much I couldn’t respond immediately.
I hadn’t eaten a single morsel, or drank a drop of anything since awakening two days ago. Odd at the very least, but what was even more unnerving, was that I hadn’t even craved either one. I should have been famished or parched beyond repair, but I wasn’t. I didn’t feel the need to eat or drink anything. I felt fine—perfectly sustained.
“Should I be?” I questioned, hoping he would be able to explain yet another Immortal phenomenon.
He tried to keep his lips pulled tight, but his forehead was lined with his amusement. “Well no, not necessarily, but perhaps you’d humor me.” His attempt at concealing the smile was faltering. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain this too.”
I sighed, and relented. “Alright . . . let’s eat.”
I looked up at him apprehensively.
“Of course, let me explain how this all works,” he said with understanding. He folded his hands and rested them on the table. “You’re wondering why you haven’t had a single pang of hunger or thirsted for a sip of water after several days now, right?”
I bobbed my head.
He chuckled. “It’s remarkable you know—how well you’ve done so far? You’ve remained so calm and taken everything so well. I’m starting to worry you’re still in a state of shock.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t able to explain how I’d come to so easily accept I was no longer a Mortal, and had entered this life of Immortality, and everything that came with it. Maybe it was because I’d never belonged in my Mortal life. “Like I’ve said, I trust you. I’ll always believe whatever you tell me.” I leaned forward and winked at him. “No matter how insane it sounds.”
He shook his head. “You astound me . . . in the best kind of way,” he qualified after I raised my eyebrows.
The affection covering every plane of his face overwhelmed me, so I diverted my eyes to the landscape surrounding us. The patio had a stunning view of the rolling hills of the estate’s vineyard, where John’s famous Pinot Noir grapes were harvested into his infamous wine. There was a light breeze infused with the aroma of sweet grasses that played with the corner of the tablecloth.
A stronger gust blew, and, unconsciously and with startling speed, I thrust my arm out and grabbed the corner before it gusted into a bowl of strawberry preserves. I’d moved faster than the wind, quite literally. I dropped the linen tablecloth and withdrew my hand back to my lap, smiling at the impressed looking man beside me.
Clapping arose from behind.
“Very good, Bryn,” someone announced, followed by a genteel laugh that rolled like thunder over a wheat field. “It appears someone’s made an exceptionally fast transformation.” The clapping tapered off.
John came around the table and stood behind one of the empty glider chairs next to me. “May I?” he asked, looking at me, but William answered.
“Please do, although we were just wrapping up.” William responded, readying himself to stand up.
John purposefully eyed the untouched dinner set before us, and raised his eyebrows. “Not in the mood for my second favorite Indulgence, Bryn?” He reached for a glistening red apple at the top of a tower of fruit, and ran his fingers over its speckled, crimson skin. He selected the other seat beside me, and situated himself in it.
I shook my head in reply, and removed my gaze from his hands that continued to smooth over the apple. There was something threatening in the way his fingers glided over the fruit, and with the accompaniment of the smile on his lips, I was reminded just why William wanted John as far away from me as possible.
As if sensing my unease, William interrupted the awkward silence. “Actually, I was just talking with Bryn about the Indulgences. We really should be getting back to the library so we can finish up our lesson on the topic.”
“Oh, really?” John appeared pleased by this, tossing the apple between his hands.
“Where have I come into the tutorial?”
“Actually . . .”—William stalled, looking regretful—“at the very beginning,” he answered, pursing his lips together.
“Is that a fact?” John looked thoroughly pleased now. “We are very privileged, Bryn, but the gift of Immortality demands much. It requires a superior level of knowledge, power, and devotion. Being young to this life and only seeing a small piece of the puzzle, you cannot fully understand the magnitude of the life you are now living. You are called to a higher purpose in this life, and expected to fulfill this purpose.” John’s unyielding eyes made me squirm in my chair.
“For our devotion to our calling, we are granted certain Indulgences to ease an eternity of dedication.” He tossed the apple high, and with lightening speed, he grabbed a paring knife across the table and stabbed the apple as it fell.
I flinched, and William tensed beside me. John smiled at me, arrogance written across his face. “You see”—he grasped the knife’s handle and ripped it from the interior of the apple; juice burst from the white flesh—“food is an Indulgence, as is drink, sleep, and a couple other
pleasures
which can be discussed at a later time.” If John’s tone had not given away his innuendo, his expression left nothing to question.
William’s hands were gripping the wicker arms of his chair with such force I heard several of the strands snap.
John cut a piece of the apple and removed it with the tip of the knife. “In the Mortal life, food could have been called an indulgence for some, but it was more a sadistic addiction of gluttonous proportions. Mortals over consume—not because of the intricate flavors and sensuous appeal—but as either a form of self-medication or punishment.” He moved the piece of apple on the tip of the knife to my mouth. “For us, food takes on a whole new meaning. You’ve already
reviewed
the heightened senses brought on by Immortality with Professor Winters, but have you
tasted
heightened senses?”
I opened my mouth tentatively, and allowed him to place the speared apple slice on the tip of my tongue. I bit down on it, and waited for John to remove the knife; all the while remaining conscious of William’s escalating unease.
The flavor of the apple played along the tip of my tongue before I began to chew it. I savored it in its entirety for awhile, astounded by the sumptuous sweetness, before I allowed myself to chew. The revelation of this small piece of apple in my mouth redefined food as I’d known it, leading me to believe I’d consumed mass quantities of cardboard and packing popcorn as a Mortal for twenty years.
I was hesitant to swallow and relinquish the luscious flavors flowing in my mouth, but aware of John and William viewing me with increasing interest, I swallowed the miracle fruit begrudgingly. I expected to be hungry for more, but found myself quite satisfied.
John’s dark blue eyes burned with envy. “How was it?”
“Amazing.” I breathed, still overwhelmed.
John clapped his hands and leaned back to recline in his chair, laying the knife down on the cutting board. “There’s nothing like the first time.”
William muttered something undistinguishable under his breath.
John wrapped his hands around the back of his head and looked thoughtful, as if debating his next move. “Has Professor Winters yet to cover the phenomenon as to why Immortals are reborn with those lovely, pale-blue eyes?”
I heard more cracking from William’s location, and wondered if any vestige of the arms of his chair would be intact by the end of this conversation. John didn’t appear to notice . . . or care.
“No, not yet,” I answered tentatively. I was eager to discover the mystery of this enigma, but not from John.
“Hmmm, that’s unfortunate. When were you planning on getting to this, William?” John smiled at the fuming man to my left, before returning his gaze back to me. “As you know, we are held to a high ethical code. We would be nothing but measly Mortals that live forever without our unwavering adherence to our rules and codes laid out by the ancients of our kind thousands of years ago. The High Council and every Allegiance’s Council’s are in place to ensure that these rules are followed—without exception—or extreme and immediate consequences are dealt out.”