“After that apple,” his throaty voice dripped insidiously, “can’t you just imagine . . .”
His thumb circled over my skin, and his eyes filled with the darkness of illicit intentions. The crawling sensation became too much for me, and my hand jerked back from his like a reflex, but John kept it firmly in his grip, smiling wider the harder I pulled.
“Patrick!” William lurched out of his chair, causing too much of a raucous for someone as graceful as he was. I was overcome with relief when John released my hand and turned his head to look for whomever William had just called out to.
A young, handsome man in a dark formal suit was crossing the lawn, headed in our direction. His effortless, casual stride, and the way he held his head—high and proud, but not in an air of arrogance—was familiar.
It could have been another Patrick Annabelle had been referring to this morning, but this man’s good looks, and apparent knowledge of his genetic superiority—indicative in the way he held his shoulders and his easy smile—left no doubt in my mind this was the Patrick she’d been referring to.
He waved his hand. “William, John!” And then broke into a light jog to cross the remaining space. As he approached, he extended his hand to shake John’s, and then William’s.
He looked even younger than I’d originally thought; probably close in age to myself. He was attractive, resembling a classic kind of handsome so far removed from guys my age. He had longish, fair blonde hair that was parted down the center and tucked behind his ears. The black three piece suit should have seemed out of place on such a young man, but somehow it felt right on him—as if he’d been born in the suit, lived in it, and would die in it (that is . . . if he wasn’t an Immortal).
After greeting William and John, Patrick turned to me and flashed a brilliant smile. “You must be Bryn Dawson.” He rounded the table, extending his hand. “It’s great to meet you.” He shook my hand with enthusiasm, his pale-blue eyes dazzling. I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my lips—even reaching my eyes—from this man’s charisma.
John broke in. “Patrick works for me. He’s just returned from a business trip.” John’s lips pursed together, failing to contain a devious smile. “He was seeing to an acquisition.” John turned to Patrick. “I trust everything went as planned?”
Patrick looked pointedly at me, and when John nodded his head, as if in permission to continue, Patrick answered, “Yes, everything went as planned. The rest of the team is taking care of the”—Patrick cleared his throat, shooting me another nervous glance—“acquisition.”
“Excellent.” John clapped his hands together. “Well, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got something to attend to. Good to have you back Patrick.” John slapped his back, like a coach would the star quarterback of the team. “Another job well done.”
John turned back to me, and winked. “I hope you found our talk enlightening, Miss Dawson. I look forward to more.” Turning on his heel, John marched towards the Manor. As if an afterthought, he shouted over his shoulder as he walked through the French doors. “William, twelve more days. I trust you’ll use your time wisely.”
I spun around to face William, unsure what I’d find covering his face. His eyes lingered on the spot where John had disappeared, and they were filled with anger—not the seething kind I’d anticipated, but a calculating, motivating kind. His hands were on his hips, and he was stone still; silently fuming and deep in thought. Patrick was beside him, also surveying him cautiously. He reached his hand out to place it on William’s shoulder.
“Hey-a William.” William jerked at the touch, snapping his head towards Patrick. “What’s the matter?” Patrick sounded genuinely concerned.
William blinked, and the black anger hazing his eyes cleared when they came open again. Ignoring Patrick’s question, he looked to me with the investigative eyes of a surgeon.
I guessed what caused this level of scrutiny. “I’m fine . . . truly.” I added, when he didn’t look convinced.
When he finally exhaled, I knew the worst was over. I exhaled my own relief.
Patrick broke our tension releasing exhales. “Well that was fun . . . always a joy,” he said with sarcasm, teetering back and forth over the heels and balls of his feet. “Let’s all sit down and have a glass of water . . . and decompress,” he said, eyeing between the two of us with curiosity. “I haven’t seen you in days, Professor, and I’d like to get better acquainted with you, Bryn.” He smiled widely, showing off his deep-set dimples.
He moved to pull my chair out, but William was already there. He winked at me, and elbowed Patrick out of the way. After getting me settled in my chair, William returned to his.
“So . . .” Patrick reached for the glass pitcher of water, pouring us each a glass before seating himself. “What did you do to end up with the strictest, meanest professor in the Immortal world this side of the equator?” he asked me with good nature.
“Ouch!” Patrick yelped, glaring across the table at William. “Geez, no need to beat on me for proclaiming the truth.” He reached down to rub his shin, but he was laughing. “Come on, you know it’s true. You’re stricter than an old farmer with seven beautiful daughters. I pray . . . regularly, for the newbies that are unfortunate enough to be taught the Immortal way by you.”
He turned to me, still methodically rubbing his shin; probably in hopes of gleaning some sympathy. “Come on, Bryn. Back me up on this. I can see you’re already wound up as tight as a watch after just two days with this guy.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. “Are you going to make me pry it from you?” He began popping his knuckles, forming them into tight fists, but his face was painted with humor. “Or are you going to serve as a witness to the treachery of his ways?”
William rolled his eyes, and tried to keep from smiling at the melodrama of this new intruder into our few minutes alone, but when he looked over at me and saw how hard I was trying to keep from smiling as well, we both burst out laughing.
“I knew it!” Patrick roared, elated. “Guilty as charged, Professor.” He shook an accusing finger at William.
“He is a tyrant, I’ll give you that,” I said in between the laughter. “And he definitely has me wound up tighter than a watch.” I exchanged a knowing look with William, causing his tanned face to redden.
Sure he’d gained an ally, Patrick continued his bantering, “You know, I could see if John would rotate me out of acquisitions”—he shot William a deliberate glance—“and transfer me into a teaching position. I’d be happy to take over your course of study.” He smiled at me. “I promise I’d be much more lenient, incorrigibly charming, and wouldn’t keep you locked in a library for fifteen hours straight.”
I felt the heat burn under my cheeks when my mind wandered to being locked in the library for fifteen hours with William.
“I’ll bet he’ll have you to the second phase of training tomorrow already, am I right?” Patrick continued.
Gosh, he could talk a lot. There was a half a second of silence in between his next train of thought, so I jumped in.
“Pretty much, we’ve just about covered it all—Immortal history, codes, gifts, and even creation. William, the selfless martyr here, Immortalized me on his very own . . .”
Patrick’s face christened with pallid whiteness, and he shot a look of astonishment at William.
“. . . but from what I understand that’s not the typical way to—”
“William, is she serious?” Patrick interrupted me, his voice sounding very different now. William’s eyes were squeezed shut, the remorseful wince covering his face telling that I’d revealed too much to Patrick.
William opened his eyes and looked to me. I was sure they’d be filled with anger, or resent at the very least, but I should have known better. Instead, they were filled with understanding and a quiet peace. He smiled assuredly at me, and then looked to Patrick.
“Yes, it’s true. I Immortalized her on my own.”
Patrick’s eyes widened with horror, and his words came out like flowing lava. “Did you not realize everything you were jeopardizing? The mission, our anonymity . . . oh yeah, and not to mention your life.” Patrick erupted from his chair, grabbing the pitcher of water from the table, and threw it against one of the patio’s pillars. The shrill sound of shattering glass seared into my ears with crystal clear pitch.
I gasped; Patrick’s ferocity was unexpected. He was acting nearly as crazy angry as I had when I learned of William’s selfless act.
William lurched up from his own seat and seized the arm of Patrick’s that had thrown the pitcher before anymore fragile items could be obliterated. “You will contain yourself right now, Patrick. That’s enough,” William warned through his teeth. His veins were bursting against the skin of his forearm from the powerful grip he had on Patrick. “Settle down, or leave NOW.”
Patrick closed his eyes and inhaled. After a few more deep breaths, the quaking running over his body diminished nearly as fast as it had presented itself. “Okay, I’m calming down.” He managed through gritted teeth a few deep breaths later. William held onto his arm a while longer, and finally released it once Patrick’s face and breathing had returned to normal.
“I’m very sorry about that, Bryn. I hope I didn’t frighten you. As you can see”—his eyes shifted to the glass shards on the ground—“I have a bit of a temper problem.”
I managed a nervous laugh. “You think?”
William didn’t take his watchful eyes off the reseated Patrick, as if ready to jump if he went into another wild rampage.
“I suppose I better let you get back to your lesson. Although it appears the Professor’s got an exceptionally new gift that might warrant a new chapter on Immortal creation.” He stood up rigidly and shook William’s hand, and then turned to me. “It was very nice meeting you. Again, I’m sorry for my crazy behavior. Please don’t let it make you feel uncomfortable around me.” His infectious smile returned. “I’m really a pretty good guy. I’ll see you both around.” He turned and glided across the lawn in the same direction he’d come from.
“I’m sorry about that, too. I should have known he wouldn’t have heard yet about what I’d done, and what his reaction would be.” He eyed over the remains on the table. “Actually, it could have been worse. He left a lot of perfectly good crystal intact.” He chuckled with stiff amusement.
“I know,” I agreed, grabbing a tall crystal goblet. “What a waste.”
Convinced I was not stunned by Patrick’s over-the-top reaction, he reached for the back of my chair. “I suppose we’d better get back to the library if we’re going to get through enough information for me to get you to phase two tomorrow,” he said with sarcasm, before muttering something under his breath about Patrick being a wise-guy.