Chapter Seventy
“Do you have a moment?” Tiffany asked shyly.
“Of course,” Duncan smiled at her. “Come in.”
She followed him inside, glancing around the studio apartment. It was quite large and open, and decorated beautifully, with artwork and swords on the walls.
“Aralyn said you were an antiques dealer once,” she commented. “Did you decorate yourself?”
He nodded. “My friend Amanda helps. She turns up sometimes with…interesting pieces.”
Tiffany wondered why Duncan hesitated before saying ‘interesting’.
“You have some beautiful artwork.”
“Thank you. But I have a feeling you didn’t stop by to talk about artwork.”
Tiffany smiled. “No.”
“Sit, please.”
She sat gingerly on the sofa, while he sat across from her in the matching chair. A glass of red wine sat on the coffee table, along with a book.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“No, you’re fine. My door is always open. Would you like something to drink? Not the wine, I know you’re not twenty one,” he smiled, revealing the dimples.
Tiffany laughed. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“What’s on your mind? You look troubled.”
Tiffany sighed.
Duncan studied her. She was a beautiful young lady, he thought, so polished and elegant. She would be at home in some of the courts he had been in, able to match wits with the brains, and more beautiful than many of the women. But she was really a lost little girl.
“I feel…I can see the difference in my cousins,” she began, “I really can. Aralyn is so much more like her old self it’s almost freakish and Nat…it’s like we’re finally getting to see the real Nat for the first time these last couple of days. It’s amazing, and wonderful.”
“But?” he prodded.
“But…I feel like…my problems aren’t that serious. I mean, Aralyn shot and killed a man for crying out loud. And it really messed her up. The sunny, smiley, Aralyn you’re seeing now, that’s the real Aralyn that I grew up with. We don’t know what all horrors Nat went through because she never talks about them. But she’s…it’s like she’s whole now. It’s like she’s been…revealed. Like all the bits and pieces that we saw before are suddenly this one beautiful, wonderful Natala. But me…I mean, I was kidnapped. I was held hostage for a few days. I wasn’t raped, I wasn’t beaten. I wasn’t tortured. I was terrified, yes, but I…” her voice trailed off.
“You feel you weren’t subjected to something so awful that you need the same kind of help your cousins did?” he finished gently.
She nodded. “I feel like I’m something of a fraud, Duncan, wasting your time. They suffered the real trauma.”
“Why do you think what you went through isn’t as traumatic?” he asked, his Scottish lilt soothing her. “You were hit in the head, and held captive in a basement, in the dark, for three days. Have you slept well since?”
Tiffany opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Not without anti-anxiety medication,” she admitted.
“Do you look over your shoulder every time you walk through a parking garage?”
She nodded, feeling her cheeks burn.
“Do you have a guard walk you to your car every night when you leave work?”
“I haven’t been back to work yet,” she whispered.
Duncan reached over and took her soft hand in his. “Tiffany, traumatic experiences affect people in different ways. After killing a man who attacked her, Aralyn holed up in her room and then one day, bolted, leaving everything and everyone behind. Natala hitchhiked across the country when her mother died to escape her life and find her father. She never talks about her previous life because it’s so horrible it’s stained her very soul. That doesn’t mean that what you went through is any less serious or life altering.
“You’re three very different people, with three different experiences. But the fact is, you are suffering from PTSD, otherwise, you wouldn't have agreed to come in the first place. Trauma is trauma, Tiffany, and belittling one because it doesn’t seem as ‘serious’ as another isn’t fair to any of you. You’re not wasting my time in the least, and I’m happy to help you. You’re too young to suffer through something like this, and it’s my pleasure to help you through it.”
A tear slid down Tiffany’s cheek. “It just feels like there are so many others out there who could use you so much more than me.”
He reached over and wiped the tear from her cheek. “Maybe. But you’re my priority right now. When you feel ready, we’ll go to the sweat lodge.”
“Will it take all day, like Nat’s?”
“Probably not. Natala had a lifetime of deep horror of to work out.”
Tiffany smiled at him. “Thank you for talking with me, Duncan. I feel kind of silly now.”
He smiled back. “Don’t. You’re a very gentle soul, Tiffany, and that’s why Aralyn brought you here. You’re not meant to carry the kind of scars that you bear. We’ll try and heal them.”
***
Aralyn grunted as she hit the mat on her back.
She lay still for a moment, breathing hard.
“You’re still weak on your left back step,” Richie said, leaning over her, offering her a hand up.
She took it and rose, groaning. That was the third time today that Richie had put her on the mat.
“I think he’s got you beat today, cousin,” Natala called from her perch, where she was sketching.
Aralyn shook her head. “I’m putting your ass on that mat again before we leave, buster.”
Richie laughed. “Whenever you’re ready, Blondie.”
Richie had sparred lightly with Natala and Tiffany both, but Natala didn’t enjoy the physical workout. She had seen too much violence and while she could execute basic self-defense moves fairly well, didn’t want to go further. Tiffany was a little more determined, but both Duncan and Richie held back with her, she was much more delicate physically and mentally than Aralyn and lacked the fire and drive of her blonde cousin.
“Not today, I need to be at the pool soon,” Aralyn glanced up at the clock. Tiffany was starting her sweat lodge with Duncan. “But tomorrow, you’re going down.”
“You know where to find me,” Richie gave her a charming smile.
Natala shook her head in amusement as she watched Richie’s eyes follow Aralyn. Richie either hadn’t realized or hadn’t cared that she had witnessed the lip lock he laid on Aralyn the other day, but he was taking the rejection well. To his credit, he hadn’t tried to hit on either of Aralyn’s cousins.
***
That night, Tiffany slept well for the first time since she had been kidnapped.
***
Duncan glanced up from his book when he felt the rush that signaled another Immortal’s presence. This one felt different. He was pretty sure the person coming up the stairs was Natala, and he was right a moment later when he opened the door. She wasn’t an Immortal yet, she felt different. As strong a presence to register with him as if she was. Any time an Immortal came near another Immortal, they experienced a wave of energy, that until one got used to, could make them feel sick. And it was impossible to discern one from another. Except for Natala. Her signature was unique, which put her in more danger.
“Good evening,” he greeted her with a smile.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I talk to you?”
“Of course. Come in.”
Two cousins in one day, he thought with amusement. Richie would be jealous if there was anything sexual going on.
“Something to drink?” She was legally old enough to drink.
“No, thanks.”
She was tense, he noted. It was time to have the ‘the talk’.
“Have a seat, please.”
She did so, sitting on the edge of the seat, hands clasped tightly. He sat across from her and took a sip of his wine.
“What’s got you so wound up?”
“What am I? Or more importantly, what are you? And Adam and Richie? And am I like you?”
Duncan took another sip of wine, formulating his answer. He had dreaded this moment since the first time he had felt Natala’s presence the day they arrived. She hadn’t been sick from food, or drink. She had been sick from the first time feeling other Immortals-him, Richie and Adam. Three at once had overloaded her senses. And yet, as she wasn’t Immortal yet, she shouldn’t have been able to feel them at all.
“That’s not a simple answer,” he said finally. “You are not exactly like me. But you could be one day.”
“I am so grateful to you, Duncan, for helping me, and going through the sweatlodge. I can never express how grateful I am. But I have to know before it drives me crazy. What are you?” she asked tightly. “Because you’re not normal. I’ve seen ghosts, Duncan. I know spirits walk amongst us. But you’re not dead. Not exactly. I know I’m psychic, and I’ve known other psychics, and even someone who bordered on being telekinetic. And I don’t think I’m ready to wrap my mind around vampires or werewolves, or anything of that sort, but you, Adam and Richie are most definitely not normal men, so I’m going to ask again, what are you?”
Duncan chuckled. “We are not vampires, or werewolves, or anything of that ilk. To my knowledge, none of those sorts of creatures exist. But no, we are not normal men.”
She inhaled sharply.
“I can’t really go into details, Natala, without affecting you and possibly your future and destiny. I won’t do that to you. You need to be free to live your life as you’re meant to, as you want to, without additional unnecessary worry or fear.”
“That’s supposed to be comforting?”
He half-smiled, and picked up a business card from the table. “I was going to give this to you before you leave. Keep this on you. If something…big ever happens, and I’m not there, you need to call me before anyone else.”
Natala raised an eyebrow.
“You might find yourself in a situation where you can’t reach out to your family.”
“Such as?”
He shook his head. “If you can’t reach me, there are numbers on the back. Richie and Adam both, as well as two other people. Joe Dawson and my friend, Amanda. They both know about you, and they’ll help you without question, and reach me in the meantime. Don’t let Amanda harass you, she’ll take care of you until she can get you to me.”
“What sort of traumatic event are we talking about, Duncan?”
“I can’t go into details right now,” he said solemnly. “I don’t want to change your path. But I want you to know I’ll keep an eye on you. And if in thirty years, nothing has happened, come find me, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Thirty years? Won’t you be an old man by then?” she laughed.
He didn’t and she felt a puzzle piece fall into place. That wasn’t possible, she thought.
“You may not hear from me for a long time, Natala, I move around periodically. But one of these people will always be able to find me. Joe Dawson, most likely. There’s a symbol on that card as well. I want you to memorize it. If someone ever approaches you wearing it on their left wrist in blue ink, you’ll know they’re a friend and can be trusted. But remember, left wrist, blue ink.”
Natala studied him. His aura was shifting rapidly. He was struggling internally, with how much to reveal. He was walking a fine line.
“Why all the secrecy and intrigue?” she asked.
“To protect you,” he said simply. “You are very special, Natala, and if the wrong people cross your path, you could be in a lot of danger. This is the best way I know how to protect you, without completely disrupting your life.”
She stared hard at him for a long moment. “This is to remain a secret, isn’t it?I can’t tell the girls. Or Dean.”
Duncan nodded. “I shouldn’t even tell you as much as I have. But if I don’t…if something happened to you and you weren’t prepared…I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”
“Do I need to be taking self-defense lessons?” she asked. “I abhor violence, Duncan, I’ve seen too much of it as it is.”
He nodded in understanding and she had the distinct feeling he had seen way more violence.
“How do you feel about sword fighting?” he replied with an adorable smile that showed his dimples.
Natala was visibly startled. “What?”
“I have a friend in New York who would be willing to teach you.”
“Are you serious?” she demanded.
He nodded.
“Duncan, what kind of people am I in danger from that I need to learn how to use a sword?”
He didn’t answer.
She stood up and paced the room for a couple of minutes.
“You realize how absurd this sounds, without the full story.”
“Even with the full story, it’ll sound absurd, trust me.” He took a long drink of wine.
“So I’m to believe that I need to learn how to use a sword to defend myself because some day I might have to defend myself against some psycho with one, and I’m to call you afterwards?”
“Something like that,” he said with a half smile.
She shook her head. “I can’t run around New York with a sword. It’s a felony to fire a gun, for crying out loud!” Then her eyes narrowed. “The trench coat. That’s why you’re always wearing a trench coat.”
He nodded.
“I’m not okay with this, Duncan. Not at all.” she said. “Is my family in danger?”
“Not right now.”
“Not right now?”
“They could be at some point. Natala, listen to me. I didn’t tell you all of this to scare you, I just wanted you to be prepared, and know what to do in case any of this comes to pass.”
She exhaled slowly.
“Listen, you leave to go back to New York in a few days. I won’t be able to keep an eye on you. You’ll forget about this after a couple of weeks and life will go on, as it should. But if, someday, something happens, you’ll know what to do.”
Her blue eyes met his chocolate brown, worried.
“Also…you may discover at some point you’re being followed, by one of those people with the tattoo. They try to be discreet but…”
“Followed? Duncan, do you know what being followed does to someone like me?”
He nodded. “I’ll ask for someone super discreet. They’re friends, of a sort, and they’re always around to help. My friend Joe Dawson is their leader.”
“Are they some sort of secret society?” she demanded.
He took another drink of wine. “Something along those lines. They’re observers. But it can come in handy to have one nearby. They may or may not eventually reveal themselves to you.”
“Do I have any say in this?”
“Not really,” Duncan admitted. “Until you can defend yourself properly, you’re always going to be something of a target. They help.”
Natala ran her hands over her hair, pacing again. “I don’t believe this. This is crazy, you know that, right?”
Duncan nodded.
“Is this big secret why I feel sick for the first few minutes around one or all of you three? ‘Cause I know it isn’t food.”
He nodded. “You shouldn’t be able to feel it at all, any of us. But I believe that psychic ability and sensitivity that you have enable you to.”
“Can someone else in my family catch it?”
He shook his head. “It’s not contagious. It’s just part of who we are. I’ve never heard of two family members both being-like me,” he caught himself in time.
Natala mulled it over for a moment. “I used to feel like that around my uncle,” she finally said.
Duncan looked very alert, very quickly. “Which uncle? Aralyn’s?”
“No. Mart is a pussy cat. This was…my mother’s brother. He took over as tribe leader when her father died, when I was just a baby. I always had the feeling that he killed his father so he could take over. He raised me, of sorts, along with other cousins, and stolen children. He kept me locked up, beat me, and worse. I’ll spare you the details. But every time he’d leave and come back, I always felt like that for a couple of minutes around him. Is it possible he’s like you?”
Duncan nodded. Aralyn had told him a just enough about the uncle that he had a good idea of what the man was like. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility. He kept you locked up?”
Natala nodded slowly, staring into space. “He always said I was special, the most special of the girls. I thought it was just part of his perversion. Would he have felt me, the way you do?”
“Yes,” Duncan said simply. “He would have known the moment he met you.”
“Even as a baby?”
“Possibly. What’s his name, Natala?” Duncan asked gently.
She shook her head. “He’s dead.”
Duncan doubted it. “I need his name.”
Natala shook her head again. “No. He’s dead, it doesn’t matter. Does it?”
“It might,” he said gently. “Why do you think he’s dead?”
Natala sank on the sofa next to Duncan. “I killed him,” she whispered. “I got free one night and I killed him.”
“How?”
Natala swallowed, shaking her head to clear the memory. “I smashed his head against a wall repeatedly. I watched the life drain out of his eyes.”
Duncan wished for that be true.
“Did you see him buried?” Duncan hated himself for having to ask.
She shook her head. “That was the night I escaped, and headed for New York. Duncan, why are you asking me all this? You think he might have survived?” she asked in horror.
“No,” Duncan said. “No one could survive that.”
She stared at him. “You could. And Adam, and Richie. Duncan, I’ve lived in fear that he’s looking for me for the last year. You wouldn't be asking me these questions if you didn't think he survived!”
“If, and that’s a big if, he's alive, he can’t get to you now,” Duncan said softly. “You’re safe with your family. And with me. But I know a lot of people like me, and they aren’t all good. If this one isn’t in the Watcher records, he needs to be. I need him name, Natala.”
She shook her again. “I can’t say his name,” she whispered.
“The Gypsy believe that if you utter the devil’s name, he comes for you,” Duncan’s voice was quiet.
Natala nodded. “Names have power,” she whispered. “I won’t give him power over me.”
Duncan picked up the notepad and pen lying on the table.
“Write it down. Or the name of your tribe and where they are this time of year. Natala, I swear to you, if he’s out there, he will never find you.”
Natala stared at the notepad for a long time.
Meet the cast in full & see the family tree!
Author’s Notes
- A huge yee-haa to the fabulous and lovely Ronda, for editing this and her suggestions which made it much better!
- Will Natala become fully Immortal? You think I'm going to answer that now?!
- Word Count, 3,190
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