Author's Note: The discussion Lisa has with the Needhams in the chapter is based on The Physics of Quickenings by Parda. You can find this story at s/6345279/1/The-Physics-of-Quickenings.
Also, since I could think of no better one myself, the description of Galabeg was lifted, word for word, from Highlander: Penance written by Knolltrey. As always, that story can be found here: s/9599821/1/Highlander-Penance.
The New Year's Eve party, though modified by me to fit this story, was originally written by my friend, Gillian Leeds who, as it happens, also created the character of Alyssa Cordeiro. Many thanks to her for her contribution to this work.
"I look to the sea reflections in the waves spark my memory
Some happy some sad
I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had
We live happily forever so the story goes
But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold
But we'll try best that we can to carry on"
"Come Sail Away" - Styx
2 May 2004
Tampa, Florida
The computer work was done. The shopping was complete. The passports were in hand. Even the adoption orders physically existed. Everything had somehow worked out on time, but not without mishaps.
There had been unexpected issues. Cashing out the certificate of deposit had led to all sorts of administrative headaches, but Martin had been able to overcome them within a few hours. Such a sizeable deposit into his account, however, would pretty much guarantee an audit on his taxes next year. Jack had to pay extra for a last minute room on the cruise as well as contact the Watchers to secure his pistol and knife. There was no way they would make it through customs. Tristan had to leave his bayonet with the Dahls for the same reason. Both felt naked without their weaponry. The passports had cost more than expected due to the rush. Tristan had found the security at the Social Security Administration to be particularly challenging and had spent the better part of a day cracking into it without being detected.
Now, they stood at the docks as the massive Norwegian Gem loomed over them. Tristan had his arms around Dana, giving her a farewell hug. Beside him was a bag containing a few books, his money, and some new clothing, all just slightly too large with the expectation he would gain a little weight during the voyage or during his training. "Not the wrong kind of weight, I hope," he had said earlier in the week, stating he would seek out the fitness center and try to copy some of the other people there and get a start on some sort of training regimen. Dana had told him he should not do much more than eat, exercise, play, and sleep.
Tristan approached Martin and embraced him. "I'm going to miss you, Daddy."
"I'll miss you, too," patting his son on the head. "Let's do this right." He picked the small boy up much to the amusement of everyone around. "And Tristan?"
"Yes, daddy?"
"Have a nice trip. Send us a message when you get there."
Wrapping his arms around his father again, Tristan said, "Thank you so much, Daddy. I will. I love you."
"I love you. And eat something. You're practically a skeleton."
Everyone around in the group chuckled in agreement. Tristan grinned. "I will. I promise." Martin set the boy down and he immediately scampered back to his bag.
Travis and Donna walked over to the Dahls. "We couldn't have children of our own. Thank you for trusting us with your son," said Travis, extending his hand to Martin.
"We'll take good care of him," added Donna.
"I know you will," replied Martin with confidence, shaking Martin's hand. He turned to shake Donna's, as well. "Both of you. He's not a handful anyway."
"I can be, if you want me to," grinned Tristan. "If it would make you feel better."
"Let us get used to the thought of having of having a little boy first, please," begged Donna with her own good-natured smile.
As the Needhams talked with his parents, Tristan took the time to converse with Nancy and Jack. "This is for you, Nancy," he said, handing her two envelopes. "One is for you and one is for your church. They're for being so generous to Jack and me. Thank you so much."
"I'm not sure I should…"
"Please take it."
"Okay."
She had no sooner gripped the enveloped when he had embraced her. "Oh," she cried out in surprise.
"Thank you, Nancy. We couldn't have done any of this without you."
"You are so welcome. I am thrilled to have been able to help." She returned the hug with equal emotion. She glanced at the envelopes once he had released her. "Do I look at these now?"
"If you like."
"I'm always so curious."
"Said the Cheshire Cat."
"Look who's talking, you grinning boy, you." Tristan giggled.
Nancy opened one of the envelopes. Jack saw her jaw drop. "Oh, my goodness. How much is this?"
"One thousand dollars in each."
"Tristan, I…"
"Like I said, we couldn't have done this without you, Nancy. It's a small repayment. You deserve more for the help you've given us. Thank you."
Nancy closed the enveloped, closed her eyes, and bowed slightly at the waist. "Then I gladly accept it in the spirit in which it is given. Thank you, Tristan."
The boy's head swiveled to Jack. "Now it's your turn, Jack," he said with a mischievous grin.
"Uh, oh. Should I be worried?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Mostly, the thing is once we get on that boat we have to be strangers again, right? We don't know who else is going to be there so I have to be an Immortal and you have to a Watcher again. Correct?"
Jack looked up at the ship, his mind obviously working through the question at hand. "I guess you're right. Duty calls."
"So, while I still can, I want to say "thank you" to you, too. Just like Nancy, you helped me figure out what I needed to do, where I needed to go. There's still a long way to go, a lot to do, but we're starting off now. It's because of you. Thank you." Tristan leaped at him, wrapping his arms around the man.
"Oof!" said Jack, laughing. Before he realized it himself, he was hugging the boy, as well. "It was my pleasure, Tristan. Thank you for trusting me. And thank you for making my first official month on the job so interesting. I wonder what the second month will be like."
Tristan stepped back and smiled at him. "Yeah, so do I."
"It's time to go now, Tristan," said Travis from behind him.
"Okay." Picking up his back and slinging it over his shoulder, he said to Jack, "See you in England."
"See you, kid."
"Bye, Nancy."
"Bye bye, Tristan."
Turning back to his parents, Tristan waved. "Bye. I love you."
"Goodbye, Tristan. Enjoy England," called Dana.
"Send us a postcard," said Martin, with a sarcastic grin.
xxxxxxxxxx
"Oh, my goodness," exclaimed Tristan. "This is our room?"
"It sure is," said Donna. "It's called the family villa. You even have your own private bedroom, uhm, over here." She pointed to the right.
Tristan's jaw dropped. "My own room? I thought I'd get a couch or something." He dashed into the room and looked around. He laughed as he dropped his bag on the bed. "It's small, but so am I. It's great. It's even has its own bathroom. I never had that at home. This is going to be so cool."
Travis grinned. "Don't let that be a reason to stay in there the whole trip. There will be all kinds of things to do on the ship, of course."
"Oh, I won't," assured Tristan, stepping out of the room to explore further.
"A living room, a dining area. Wow! A private balcony." He pointed to the master bedroom. "Can I look in there?"
"Sure," said Travis.
The boy was moving almost before he finished saying the word. Donna giggled. She turned to her husband and looked up into his eyes. "Can you believe this? For two weeks, we have a little boy of our own? If he's full of this much spirit the whole time, he's going to be so much fun."
Travis let out a chuckle, still grinning himself. "Yeah, and will completely wear us out. We won't be able to keep up."
"Oh, pfft," she said, slapping his chest. "That's going to be part of the fun. Have you ever babysat? Chasing the kids around is part of the entertainment. So is watching their wide-eyed wonderment at everything."
"Except he's a forty-plus year old who only looks like a little boy."
"But he hasn't lost that childlike nature. Remember what Jack said on the way to dinner before we picked up Nancy's husband and her kids? Physically, he's still twelve years old. He's lived for forty years, yes, but he is still a little boy biologically and will still react like one. You saw him when he was in his own bedroom."
"This place is awesome!" they heard from inside the master bedroom.
Donna grinned. "And now. This is going to be great."
Travis took his wife's hand from his chest and kissed it. "Maybe you're right."
"Admit it. I alway am."
xxxxxxxxxx
Jack looked about his own accommodations and nodded. Certainly better than a Fort Benning barracks room, I'll give it that. And perhaps a perk to having called in for a ticket only a few days before departure, too.
When Jack had called, he'd had the choice of a small room in the bottom of the ship or what the operator had called a mini-suite with balcony. Jack had opted for the mini-suite. He was now glad he had. Overall, the room was small, but it had a queen-sized bed, a sofa, a dining area along the opposite wall, and, as promised, a private balcony. There was even a private bathroom and shower.
Something else you didn't get at the Fort Benning School for Boys. This won't be a bad trip.
Jack put his rucksack on the bed and began to unpack.
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The first two days of the cruise had included daylong stops at Key West, the southernmost island in the United States, and Miami, Florida. Tristan and the Needhams went snorkeling during the Key West stop but were not so interesting in the Miami layover. They had seen Miami before.
Tristan decided to introduce himself to the fitness center. Travis accompanied him. Tristan discovered that Travis was actually quite a fitness buff and attempted, unsuccessfully, to keep up with him during the workout routine. At the end of it, Travis was pleasantly winded and Tristan was drenched in sweat and clinging onto one of the machines for balance, his wobbly legs unable to support him.
He looked up at Travis, rivulets of sweat stinging his eyes. "Is this one of those "Your workout is my warmup" situations?'"
Travis laughed. "Pretty much. Don't let it discourage you. It's your first day. You're going to be sore and a bit miserable, at first. What you need to do is stretch, take a hot shower, eat some good food, not junk, and take a nap. Tomorrow, we can do this again. By the time we get to England, you'll be getting used to this. It will be a good head start for when you meet this Ashton guy."
Tristan smirked. "From what Jack was saying, he'd put us both to shame."
Travis paled. "Really?"
"Jack said he does two or three Iron Man competitions a year for fun. And harder workouts for combat training."
"Iron Man. Oh, heavens."
"What is the Iron Man?"
"You don't know?"
"Just the comic book guy."
"It's a very brutal race. There are different versions, but the usual one is a 3.86 kilometer (2.4 mile) swim, a 180.25 kilometer (112 mile) bicycle ride, and a marathon 42.20 kilometer (26.22 mile) run, raced in that order and without a break. There are some that are double that."
"Oh, man," said Tristan. "That's rough."
"Yeah, and you say he does these for fun?"
"That's was Jack said, yeah."
"What else does he do?"
"Jack said he runs a lot of companies. He said it's almost like he's one hundred people at once, maybe he is. The big one is a PMC in England."
"A what?"
"A private military corporation."
"So what you're saying is this guy that I'm going to meet next month to talk about IT manufacturing does Iron Man competitions for fun, two or three of them a year, and commands his own private army, as well?"
"Yep," Tristan grinned, still wobbly.
"Wow! That's heavy stuff."
"Is it time for that shower now?"
"Yeah, I think it is. Do you need help getting to the room?"
"I think I do, please." As they walked, Tristan added, "Are you hungry? I'm ravenous."
xxxxxxxxxx
The next day the ship turned east and set out for six days at sea. Travis had been right in that Tristan had been sore, but it had not been that bad. Tristan decided it had to do with Immortal recovery rates. He and Travis had decided to make a habit of pre-breakfast workouts. Tristan discovered, not surprisingly, this made him all the more voracious when mealtime came.
"I think you've eaten more this morning than you have in the last week," said Donna with a smirk.
Tristan took a long pull from his glass of orange juice before answering. "I did promise Daddy that I would stop looking like a skeleton, didn't I?" He grinned at her.
"Well, I saw you in your trunks at Key West, little one. You're not there yet."
Still grinning, Tristan stuck out his tongue. Donna did the same. "If I keep eating like this and working out with Travis, maybe that will change a little bit."
"Maybe. Travis looks good in his swim trunks."
"Oh, blech," said Tristan, leaning over and sticking and finger down his throat.
"Hey!" objected Travis. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you in swim trunks is not what's usually on my mind, that's all," clarified Tristan. "You're not my type."
"I'm not sure if I should be comforted or insulted by that comment." Travis sank in his seat, crossed his arms, and pretended to sulk.
"Now, Donna, on the other hand," Tristan clarified, getting out of his chair and walking over to her. "That's another story. She looked nice in her swimsuit."
Donna blushed. "Well, thank you, Tristan."
"You're welcome, pretty lady," he gushed, sliding into her lap.
"Oh, you little tease," she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.
He giggled and wiggled.
"Hey, that's my wife you're seducing, little man." Travis didn't move from his sulking position. He only smiled.
"And quite effectively, I might add," said Donna.
In an instant, Tristan's grin vanished. His head snapped toward the entrance to the dining room. He was out of Donna's lap before she realized it, his fists clenched. Disregarding the entrance, his feet moved his back to his chair as his eyes scanned the entire room with suspicion.
"What is it, Tristan?" whispered Travis, his posture returning to a normal position.
"There's another Immortal in here. One, maybe two, but I can't tell where they are. They're too far away, I guess. It's a big room. If they were closer, I could tell for sure. I just felt it for a moment, but they're here."
"How do you spot them after you feel them?" asked Donna in a low voice.
"Usually it's the other person looking around the room like you are or, if you're close enough, you can just tell. There are so many people who looked at me when I jumped up, though, that it threw me off. I can't tell."
With trepidation, Tristan picked up his silverware and began to eat again. There was no joy in it anymore. He did not speak for the rest of the meal. He merely scanned the room nonstop. Both Donna and Travis noticed how white his knuckles were around the silverware.
xxxxxxxxxx
The ocean air of the afternoon felt wonderful. Tristan stood on the deck overlooking the two large pools at the top of the ship. He had taken his turn playing with the kids in the water. Now it was time just to enjoy the sights and the air on his skin, the feel of the breeze blowing through his hair.
His eyes closed and his lips turned upward as the sensations overwhelmed him. The laughter and splashing below, the cool air, the sun above him. It was all perfect. The stresses of the morning drained out of him. He crossed his arms on the railing in front of him and gazed happily at the merriment below.
His eyes locked onto a pretty girl with long black hair below as she made her way to a deck chair. Her entrance got the attention of many of the other boys around the pools, as well. She wore an orange bikini which contrasted greatly with her tanned skin. A pair of dark sunglasses covered her eyes. She carried a thick paperback book in one hand and a glass with a little umbrella in the other. Tristan would have thought she was not much older, physically, than he was, but the umbrella in the glass made him think otherwise. She must be older if she was able to buy alcoholic drinks.
Tristan's shoulders tensed. The same sensations he had felt during breakfast were back. One Immortal, maybe two. Was the girl one of them? He looked for any obvious sign. She didn't look about her. She just set her drink on the table by one of the chairs and stretched herself out, fanning her hair behind her back. She then opened her book and began to read. Tristan looked around the pool area. Again, everyone was too far way for him to get a positive reading on anyone. The people on the upper deck with him, he could tell, were not one of the Immortals. Where are they?
As before, Tristan was only getting the slightest of electric tremors along his spine and in his head, not the typical clanging of bells. They were just too far.
"So," he muttered, as he walked away. "They're down at the pool, I guess. I suppose that means it's a good time to go back to my room."
xxxxxxxxxx
Tristan with a contented grin on his face. He was nestled between Donna and Travis on the couch in the family villa as they watched a DVD on the television. They had selected a film none on them had seen before, Secondhand Lions starring Michael Caine, Robert Duvall, and a teenaged Haley Joel Osment. They sat mesmerised as the child star turned two old grouches into two loveable old grouches along with the addition of a lion to the family farm.
"That was an incredible movie," cheered Tristan, as the credits rolled.
"It sure was," agreed Donna, still marveling at the cartoon drawings being displayed with the credits. "I didn't want it to end."
"I bet that kid was intimidated working with two greats like Duvall and Caine," opined Travis. "I would be."
"Even if he was, he didn't seem to show it," said Donna. "He did a great job."
"Oh, I'm not detracting from his performance at all. It was spectacular. He certainly held his own alongside two of the great stars."
"And what about you, little one?" asked Donna, leaning into Tristan and crushing him against her husband. This elicited an "Agh" and a grin from the boy. "How do you think he did in the movie?"
"I'm not an acting critic. I just think the whole thing was great." He looked at his watch. "Oh, I have to go." He hopped up. "I'm playing a game of Go with Taylor in a few minutes."
"You found someone on this ship who knows out to play Go?" Travis was amazed.
"I had to teach him, but he's really caught on fast. He loves it. We're starting on a full-sized board today. I'm supposed to meet him in the library in fourteen minutes."
"Okay," said Donna. "Have fun."
xxxxxxxxxx
"This is such a cool game, Tristan. Thank you for teaching it to me." Taylor Bordeaux beamed across the table at his new friend, his blond hair bleached even more so by all his time in the sunlight over the eight days. Tristan smirked at the sight of it.
"If your hair gets anymore blond, it's going to be transparent."
Taylor pulled down his bangs and observed the color. "Eh, everyone needs something special about them, don't they? That will be my thing. Let's keep playing."
"Okay, but even with this handicap, I'm not going to take it easy on you."
"Go for it."
Stones clicked on the board. The shapes grew more complex and the battles for territory became more pronounced.
"You're doing well," Tristan stated. "We're about even."
"Cool," said Taylor. "You can tell the score even when we're still playing? Without stopping and counting and rearranging everything?"
"It's a close guess, but it's enough to get a read on things. I'm not as good as a pro, but I'm okay."
Taylor's eyes widened. "There are pros? Really? People get paid to play this game?"
"Oh, yeah. They're are professional chess players and professional bowlers, so why not? They're all in Asia. China, Korea, and Japan, but they're are professional Go players. They're really good."
Taylor looked down at their game. "Wow. It would be cool to see a pro game."
"Yeah, it would."
Tristan stiffened.
"What's wrong?" asked Taylor.
"Uhm…"
Before he could say anything else, a person came into the library. Tristan's eyes were there immediately. He gasped softly. It was the pretty girl from the pool. She was dressed in mid-thigh shorts and a t-shirt now rather than the revealing swimsuit and carried another book in her hand. This time, however, rather than showing any apparent sign of searching for an Immortal, her eyes locked onto Tristan instantly, as well.
"Hello, boys," she said. Her voice was polite and soft. She began to walk toward them. Tristan tensed all the more.
Taylor swivelled his head in her direction. His jaw dropped.
"Uh, uh," she said, grinning, putting a fingertip under Taylor's chin. "Don't do that or flies might get in." She pushed his mouth closed. "Although I do like those big brown eyes of yours."
She smiled at the thirteen-year old. He gulped and tried to smile back. It was more of a grimace. The girl knelt on one knee next to Taylor, giggling, and rubbed her hand along his back.
"It's okay. You can breathe now. I don't bite... much. I'm Lisa. And you are?"
"T..T..Taylor."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Taylor." She offered her hand. Taylor took it as if he were afraid it would shock him. After the handshake, she looked at the board on the table. "And you play Go. Are you winning?"
"I..I don't think so. Tri..Tristan says we're about even right now."
"So you're Tristan, it's nice to meet another handsome little man." She smiled and extended her hand again. Tristan's expression of suspicion softened only slightly. He took her hand and shook it in the manner in which he was taught.
"Oh," she said. "Very good." Her smile only diminished a degree as she turned back to Taylor, placing a hand on his back again. "Taylor, would you be a dear and let Tristan and me talk privately for a while, please? You two can play your game again tonight, okay? Say at eight o'clock? Would that work?" She looked at Tristan.
"Sure," he muttered.
"Okay," blurted Taylor. "See you, Tristan." Taylor jumped out of his chair and darted from the room.
I hope, thought Tristan.
Lisa stood and took the boy's place in the chair, setting her book on the table. She grinned at Tristan. "I think I just made his day. What do you think?"
"He certainly looked like it," Tristan admitted, his voice flat.
"To use a cliche, I wanted to clear the air," said Lisa. "You've probably sensed me on the ship already. I just want you to know, now that I know you're the other one here, that I'm not a threat to you. I'm not your enemy. I'm just here to enjoy myself. That's all."
"Even if what you say is true," replied Tristan, "and forgive my bluntness, right now I have no reason to trust you, and what about the other one? There's another Immortal, at least one, on this ship."
Alyssa sat back in her chair. "Yes, you're right," she said solemnly. "On all counts. "You don't have any reason to trust me right now. You just met me. Well, maybe this will help. The other Immortal is Goran Lambros. He is about one hundred seventy-three centimeters tall with black hair, dark eyes, and a bushy black mustache, a bit plump. He's really hard to mistake once you know what you're looking for. He's a bit of a greasy character and that's putting it mildly. He's a human trafficker, sex trade stuff, women, children, that kind of thing. He's laying low by being on such a "low class" cruise as this one. If you see him, go the other way. Don't try to fight him."
"How do you even get weapons on this ship?"
"There are ways if you know people."
"I guess I don't know the right people."
Lisa's eyes fell. "You poor little guy." She looked at the Go board. "Well, you know Go so you obviously know something about tactics. Want to play a game?"
Tristan brightened. "Sure."
"I told you I wasn't your enemy," she repeated. "You can even come up to my room and visit, if you want."
"Not right away. Maybe later."
Lisa shrugged. "Fair enough, trust takes time after all." They began to clear the board. "Where did you get this? I've never seen a folding board with magnetic stones before?"
"It was a chance find while we were shopping for clothes and other things for the trip. There was a curiosity shop nearby and I don't think the owner really knew what it was. He sold it to me for ten dollars just to get rid of it. He thought it was a messed up version of Othello."
"Othello?" laughed Alyssa. "Oh, that poor man. He really did have no idea what he had. He could have sold it for so much more."
"Oh, yeah. Especially since no one in the states really plays the game yet. Do you need a handicap?"
"Let's start without one and see how things go. You play black."
"Okay. Onegaishimasu."
"Onegaishimasu."
They played silently for the first several moves, placing stones relatively quickly. They slowed down after the first twenty stones. Tristan, especially, became more contemplative with his placement. After one difficult battle in the lower right of the board, he began to grin.
"What's that all about, little man?" asked Lisa.
"I've seen that tesuji before," he said. A tesuji is a play in a local position. "For the last few years, I've been watching games online on the KGS Go Server. There's this player called Menina who uses that tesuji all the time. I came up with a counter for it."
"And it worked, I see," said Lisa. "Very good. You survived."
Tristan looked up at her. "You're Menina?" Lisa grinned.
"Nice to meet you in real life. What was your name on KGS?"
"Terran."
"I don't think we ever played."
"We didn't. I just watched your games. You were very good, much better than me."
"Thank you."
Tristan puffed his cheeks. "I might be doomed here."
"It's not over yet. There's still a long way to go."
They continued playing. Tristan's face became more serious as the game progressed. Small droplets of sweat beaded on his brow. A formation of his stones in the lower left died under an assault from Lisa. He let them go before the loss got worse and moved on to other parts of the board.
The fight got intense in the upper left. Two large formations of their stones battled for life and control of a massive amount of territory. Both players took their time placing stones. The winner of this part of the board might swing the entire game. Tristan placed a stone at a critical juncture that sealed it all. Lisa's formation collapsed.
This is Menina, though. I can't get cocky. There is still a lot of the board left.
He was right. Lisa began an invasion of his territory on the right side. Tristan's defense began to crumble. He fought desperately, looking for anything to tighten his wall of stones. He sat back in his chair. He didn't see it. He closed his eyes. He didn't move for several seconds. His lids opened with glacial speed and focused on the stones. He reached for his stones and placed one on the board. His defense remained intact. The game was over.
"That was one of the hardest games I have ever played," admitted Tristan, sitting back and taking a deep breath. "Thank you."
"Thank you for being such a challenging player yourself," said Lisa. She studied the board. "You won by two and a half points. Very good." She sat back and examined the board again. A small grin formed on her lips. Only then did Tristan also notice the emerald green of her eyes.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I was just thinking of someone I know who also plays this game. He'd crush either of us, he's so good; he's the one who taught me how to play. I think he'd be interested in meeting you. I could arrange it, if you like."
"There's someone I'm hoping to meet when I get to England already. Maybe I can meet your friend, too."
Lisa's grin broadened. "Perhaps. I think he'd be intrigued by you."
"Give me a little time to get used to the place, though, please. I've never been outside of the southern United States."
"I can tell by that cute little accent of yours."
Tristan blushed. "I thought I didn't really have one. I speak six languages."
"Oh, it's very slight, especially compared to some people I've met, like from Virginia or southern Alabama." Tristan smirked at the mention of Alabama. "Too close to home?" Lisa asked.
"No, I was just there recently. That's all. Speaking of accents, I can't place yours. It reminds me of a friend of mine. It's like a blending of accents into one. What is it?"
Lisa crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward, grinning, her eyes twinkling. "It's definitely a mutt of an accent, isn't it? At least that's what my boyfriend calls it. Naturally, he's one to talk. He's just as bad, but he's a clown anyway. Well, I spoke Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, German, Swiss German, Dutch, Greek, and French before I learned English. That was around 1890. It would only be natural that I would have a unique accent after one hundred and twenty years of other languages, don't you think?"
Tristan blinked and exhaled for a full second. "I guess so. Wow."
Lisa stood. "I know it's asking too much to be friends on the first official meeting." She extended her hand again. "Can we say, "Not enemies, but acquaintances?""
Tristan shook her hand. "Yes, we can do that." His brow creased. "At least for now."
Lisa laughed. "Fair enough, little man. Fair enough." She picked up her book and walked out.
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The ship had stopped the day before at the Azores archipelago for a day. Tristan had originally planned on staying on board until he had learned he could spend half a day snorkeling with dolphins. That had been enough to get him off the ship and into the water, at least for a while.
A day later, still giddy from that experience, he crept along the upper deck of the cruise ship in the late hours of the night. He took a look at his watch. 0137. Maybe that nap right after dinner wasn't such a good idea. Now I'm up way too late. I'm going to regret this when Travis gets me up to go to the gym. I can at least float in the pool and look at the stars for a while. Maybe that will relax me.
He could just make out the stairs leading down to the pool in the moonlight. He could also hear voices down below.
"...owe me, you little bitch." Tristan didn't recognize the voice. "I expect prompt payment," the voice continued, "or that little ass of yours is going to be getting fucked on camera for the next decade."
"Fuck off, Lambros," came Lisa's voice. "That's not going to happen."
Laughter. "Oh, it will if I say it will." Tristan crept closer to the stairs, toward the source of the voices. He heard steel being drawn from a scabbard and a distasteful hiss from Lisa. "Or maybe I should just take a taste of what's down here myself and then take that pretty little head of yours. Just consider it done."
Tristan peered over the edge of the stairwell. In one glance, he saw it all. Lisa was cornered against the railing of the area opposite him. In front of her, his back to him, stood a black-haired man clad in formal evening wear. He held a machete in his hand. Its tip was currently between Lisa's legs, tapping against her inner thigh. Lisa wore a V-neck evening gown and a sharp scowl.
"Yes, I like that idea." She spit in his face. He slapped her with the back of his other hand. He brought his blade up, turning it over so its sharpened side was under her chin. Tristan guessed from Lisa's shudder that Lambros was grinning. The blade slid from her chin under her chin to her right gown strap. "Let's see what I have to look forward to," he growled. The delicate strap popped without resistance.
Several things happened at once. Half of Lisa's gown fell away, exposing her right breast. Lisa hissed again in protest. Tristan gasped and slipped on the stairs, nearly falling. At the same time, he wound up just within the necessary distance for both of the other Immortals to sense his presence. Lambros growled again and twisted around, searching for the unseen intruder.
Lisa, however, cocked back her right hand, and chopped a knife hand into his throat. At the same time, her left hand gripped the back of the machete and twisted it upward toward his thumb. The shock of the throat strike caused Lambros to momentarily forget about his grip on the blade. It slipped from his numb fingers as he choked and stepped back. Lisa took a firm grip of the handle with her right hand and swung once, a furious shout erupting from her lungs. The machete cleaved halfway through Lambros's neck. He wheezed his horror and pain, too much pain to scream. He tried to turn his neck to face her. His neck muscles would not respond properly. Lisa wrenched the blade out and swung again from the other side. Lambros's body fell at her feet, his head rolling next to it.
Looking over at Tristan as he gripped the railing on the stairs, Lisa gasped, "Thank you." Her voice was shaky. "Come down. I'm going to need help with him." Tristan nodded and stood. Lisa glanced at the blade in her hand and, with a shrug, tossed it overboard. Tristan had just made it to the bottom of the stairs when Lambros's body began to glow. He stopped and watched.
The Quickening was a dynamic, destructive event. The deck chairs and awnings around the pools were reduced to kindling and bits of singed fabric. The water in the pool evaporated almost completely. At the center of the storm, screaming in ecstatic agony, was Lisa, her entire body aglow as she received the majority of its power. Her limbs quivered uncontrollably and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Her dress even started to smoke. Tristan was afraid it might start to burn. She gripped the ship's railing frantically with one hand as huge bolts slammed into her body without mercy. Finally, the electric convulsions ended and Lisa fell to her knees, panting and awash in sweat.
Tristan walked over to her as she slowly sat up. His eyes fell to her exposed breast briefly and he looked away. She smirked at him and took his arm. "Don't worry about that right now, Tristan. Help me stand up. We have to get rid of him before others show up. Then we have to get out of here."
Tristan nodded. He let her lean on him as she stood and regain her balance. When he was sure she wouldn't fall, he reached for Lambros's head. He threw it over the side. Then they each grabbed an arm and pulled. Tristan was amazed at how little blood there was. When they were at the railing, they squatted and lifted, pushing the body up.
It took them both several attempts to get the dead weight into a relatively standing and balanced position. They both felt the pressure of time as they worked. Sweat poured down their faces. Their breathing came in labored gasps.
"Almost there," said Lisa.
Nodding, Tristan reached for Lambros's feet. They lifted again, grunting with the effort. Slowly, the body came up. They had it halfway up, balanced on the railing, when they had to stop for a breath. They looked into each other's eyes. They took three more breaths and nodded. With a final grunt, both gritting their teeth, they pushed again, and the body was over the side.
Lisa bent down and tore some fabric from her skirt. "Here." She pointed at the pool. "Jump down there and soak this. I'll clean up the blood."
Tristan leapt down and did as he as told. He heard her tear another strip of fabric as he did so. "Here," he said, handing it back and climbing over the edge.
Lisa scrubbed vigorously at the visible bloodstains. Tristan followed behind her with the other strip, drying and clearing away any reddish residue. In two minutes, they were finished. Lisa took the two strips and held them over the railing. Releasing them, they flew away.
She grabbed Tristan's arm. "Come on," she said. "Let's get to my cabin. We can't have much time left now."
They ran as fast as they could, adrenaline giving them extra speed. They reached the elevator and Lisa punched the button. Their patience was tried as they waited for the car to arrive, both hoping it would be empty when the doors opened. They were fortunate and rushed into the vacant lift. Lisa hit the button for deck fifteen and again they waited.
"There won't be many, if any, people moving around on my deck. We shouldn't have anyone see us. Once we get to my room, we're safe."
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The two Immortals rushed out. In seconds, they were in front of Lisa's door. She swiped her keycard and they were inside. She ushered Tristan inside and slammed the door behind her.
"Oscar. Oscar. Oscar," the ship's intercom announced.
"What's that?" asked Tristan.
"That's the code to the ship's crew for man overboard," answered Lisa. "Someone must have seen the body fall and reported it." She sighed. "We got back just in time."
She looked down at her tattered, bloody dress. "I need to get out of this thing." She began to slip out of it.
Tristan remembered to be embarrassed. Lisa laughed as he blushed. "You don't have to be ashamed for my sake, dear. It's okay if my family sees me undress. After what we've just done, we're as good as family. You saved me back there and I thank you for it."
"I…saved you?"
"You distracted Lambros. You gave me the opportunity to kill him. That distraction saved me." Walking up to Tristan, her dress down to her hips and his face beet red, she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you, little brother."
He looked up into her green eyes and grinned. "You're welcome."
"Now, give me a moment." She stepped into her bedroom and returned a moment later in a bathrobe. She held her dress and shoes, crumpled together, in one hand. She trotted over the to the balcony, slid open the door, and tossed it all over the side. "There goes $12,000," she said dryly.
"Your dress cost $12,000?" Tristan was incredulous.
The dress was $9,000. The shoes were $3,000."
"What do you do for money?"
"I'm a model," she said. "And I get paid well for it." She grinned at him. My boyfriend has this weird knack as a talent scout for child singers and fashion models. He does it, too."
"Singing?"
She laughed. "No, though he does have a nice voice. He a model, too, but he doesn't do it very often anymore. He doesn't really have to since he gets a little slice from all the people he sets up in the business." She listed off several prominent young vocalists. "Have you heard of any of them?"
"Yeah, most of them, actually. Some of them sound like they're from other countries, though."
"They are. Well, he's the reason they all got their start."
"Wow, maybe I need to meet him, too, just to chat."
"Yeah, maybe so." She put a hand on his cheek and stroked his face. "You do have the prettyboy face and physique for modeling, actually." Tristan blushed bright red.
Lisa laughed again. "That was a compliment, little guy. Now, let's check you out real quick. Make sure there are no obvious signs of blood or anything that could mark you as having been there."
She knelt in front of him and eyed him from top to bottom. Tristan wondered if this was the sort of appraisal slaves at market had to undergo. At least she wasn't asking to see his teeth.
"Turn around," she said. He did so. "Again." He did. "Let me see your hands." He held the out, palms down. He was starting to grin now. This was becoming a fun game. How often does a pretty girl look at you like this?
"Turn them over." He did. "Now let me see the bottom of your shoes." He showed her.
She stood. "Okay. Here's the verdict, little man. You need to wash your hands. There are a few spots on your palms, probably from the scrubbing and helping me lift the body. There are two drops of blood on the top of your right shoe, but it's on the rubber part, not the suede, which will make it easier to wash off. And your t-shirt is covered in blood. You might as well just throw it away. I don't see any in your hair or on your face, which is good. Other than that, you're fine."
Tristan looked down at his shirt. There were indeed several large blotches of blood all over it. He pulled it off immediately. Lisa pointed at the sliding glass door to her balcony. "You can drop it over the side out there," she said.
He went outside and stood in the night air. Looking out at the sea and stars, he muttered, "What a night," before letting the shirt fly into the breeze.
Stepping back inside, Tristan slid the door shut again. There was a lurching sensation under their feet. "What just happened?" he asked.
"The boat stopped. They're turning around to look for the body. It's normal procedure."
"Will they find it?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. We'll deal with that when it happens."
"Have you been through this kind of thing before?"
"Twice."
"Other beheadings?"
"No. One time a guy got drunk and tried to fly and another time a depressed teenager tried to end it all."
"What happened?"
"The birdman didn't have wings and the teenager was successful. They both died, at least I think so. Each time the ship turned around to look for them. For the drunk guy, they never found them and eventually continued on their way. For the teen, they they called the Spanish coast guard to help and found his body floating in the water about two kilometers from where he had jumped. With Lambros, well, we're in international waters. There are no nations to help. If there are other ships of any sort nearby, they're obligated by international law to assist in the search. We don't know what's around here, of course. Like I said, we'll worry about Lambros when, and if, they find him."
Lisa squinted her eyes. "There are blood stains on your chest and shoulders. Turn around. Yep, they're on your back, too. You should take a shower. Go ahead and go first. You probably don't take showers for as long as I do. I'll wait."
After they had both washed, they lounged on Lisa's sofa, their feet on the coffee table. Tristan wore her other bathrobe. It swallowed him but he found it comforting.
"Can I ask you a question?" queried Tristan. Remembering Penance's answer to that from decades ago, he added, "And don't say, "You just did.""
Lisa smirked. "You sound like my boyfriend when you say that. Sure, go ahead."
"Do you mind telling me why that guy, Lambros, was threatening you?"
"Oh, that." She leaned her head back on the sofa cushions. "I used one of his organizations for some business a few years ago. Under the table stuff, but not too shady. Just enough that I didn't want to use legit help. Know what I mean?"
"Kind of." Tristan nodded.
"Anyway. Lambros said I didn't pay enough for the work his people did. I paid exactly what we agreed. He just didn't like the fact that what they were transporting turned out to be more valuable than they thought."
"What were they transporting?"
"Uh, uh. That would be telling." She shook a finger. "A girl's got to have some secrets. Let's just say it was worth more than diamonds or gold."
"Wow!"
"Yeah. When Lambros got a hint of the stuff's true value, he wanted triple the rate. I told him to shove it. I paid his people what we'd agreed. They were happy and we walked away. He was livid and never forgave me."
"What was that about a camera?"
"Ah, yes. He was threatening to have me make porn films until he was tired of me."
Tristan's jaw went slack. His whole body shivered. He pulled his knees up to his chin and squeezed them as tightly as he could. "Killing him wasn't good enough," he whispered through gritted teeth.
Lisa's eyes went wide. She scooted closer to him. In a soft voice, she asked, "You've had to do it yourself, haven't you?"
Tristan said nothing, only nodded. Lisa put her arms around him and pulled him close. "I'm so sorry, little one."
They sat like that until they both fell asleep.
The morning sunlight through the windows awoke Lisa a few hours later. She reached for Tristan's scrawny wrist and took a look at his watch. She nudged him.
"Tristan," she whispered.
"Mmmm?" he moaned.
"It's almost six o'clock. You should probably get dressed and get back to your room. You can come visit me tonight, if you like. I'll give you my room number before you go."
The boy's eyes slowly opened as she spoke. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up. "I'd rather stay here. Being cuddled up next to you is very comfortable."
"Go on, little darling. You can do that again tonight." Lisa couldn't resist her own smile, though. She had enjoyed having his tiny body curled up next to her, as well. Like a little puppy, she thought.
Tristan undid the belt of his robe and slid it off. In his weariness, he forgot he was wearing nothing underneath. His back to Lisa, he draped the robe over a chair and began to don his own clothing again. Lisa just grinned and remembered her own comment about family. As he dressed, she stood and took a notepad from a nearby table. She scribbled her name and room number on it. Tearing the sheet from the pad, she handed it to him.
"Here you go. I hope you come visit."
"I will," he said, buttoning his jeans and putting the paper in his pocket. He looked up at her and added, "Big sister."
Lisa grinned.
xxxxxxxxxx
The body of Goran Lambros was never found. Including the six hours of searching, the Norwegian Gem had lost just under a total of eight hours travel time. They gave their guests a choice and took a poll. They could go to their two scheduled stops at Cork, Ireland and Falmouth in Cornwall, UK for the allotted amount of time and arrive in Southampton eight hours late or have abbreviated stops at each point and arrive at Southampton on time. When the votes were tallied, the majority opted to arrive in Southampton on time; the stops in Cork and Falmouth would each be cut by four hours.
"I'm not sure how happy the tourist traps at each of those place will be," commented Travis when the announcement was made. "It's going to cut into their revenue for sure."
"The customer is always right, Travis," reminded Donna.
"Of course, you're right, Donna."
"I always am." She grinned.
"Oh, blech," said Tristan, with his own grin and a finger down his throat.
"Oh, come here, you little devil," said Donna, reaching over and pulling the boy from his chair into her lap. "Stick your little finger down your throat, will you?" she chided with merriment in her voice as her fingers worked their way into his ribs. Tristan's legs shot out in front of his reflexively as convulsive laughter erupted from within him. A few tables away, a pretty girl with black hair and green eyes watched the game with obvious enjoyment.
The boy's wiggling made him harder to hold. Donna wrapped one arm around his chest, making sure the hand went under his arm to continue the assault, and kept working on his ribs with the other hand.
"I'm getting jealous now," said Travis. "I want to join in, but it would cause too much of a scene."
Donna smirked at him. "We could always carry him back to our room and continue there."
Travis grinned. "No, no," protested Tristan, though he was smiling himself.
"I think it's a grand idea," said another voice.
The Needhams looked up. So did Tristan. A pretty dark-haired girl who looked like she might be in her late teens or early twenties stood before them. Tristan sat up in Donna's lap. "Hi, Lisa."
"Hi, Tristan," she grinned. The girl extended her hand to Travis. "Hi, I'm Lisa. I hope you don't mind me barging in on your play. I met Tristan last night while he was out for a walk. We spent several hours chatting. We had a grand time. I thought it would be appropriate if I met his parents, too."
Travis stood and bowed slightly at the waist. He took her hand. "Ooh, a gentleman," cooed Lisa.
"A pleasure, Lisa," said Travis.
Lisa turned her smile and her hand to Donna. She took a step forward since Donna couldn't stand with Tristan in her lap. "Miss?"
"Donna, please."
"Donna, it's nice to meet you."
They shook. "Well," said Donna. "If this little man," she shook Tristan as she spoke, making his grin even wider, "approves of you, then so do we. Why don't we order lunch in the room and continue our little game there?"
Lisa flashed mischievous eyes at Tristan. "Perfect," she said.
xxxxxxxxxx
The Needhams were originally going to order a steak and shrimp lunch but, upon learning that Lisa was Jewish and preferred to each as kosher as possible, opted to steak and lamb instead. Travis made the call to the concierge. As they sat waiting, the conversation inevitably turned to the prior night's events.
"Lisa," asked Donna. "Did you or Tristan see anything at all having to do with that man that went missing?"
"No," she said. "We sat by the pool talking for a while then we went up to my room. We fell asleep on my sofa after a while." She looked over at Tristan. When I woke up, he was curled up next to me with his head in my lap like a little puppy. It was very cute."
Tristan blushed and lowered his head. Lisa leaned over to him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, don't be embarrassed. All boys do that. It's natural. Never stop."
"Okay," he whispered. "I won't."
Travis added, "The crew said there was some sort of vandalism on the pool deck, also. Someone destroyed a lot of the deck furniture and drained the pools. I don't know why anyone would want to do that. It makes no sense."
"Yeah, that's just weird," said Tristan. He glanced over at Lisa. "Now you can't work on your tan."
Lisa's jaw dropped. "Have you been watching me sunbathe, you little perv?" she gasped. She stood and held her arms akimbo, glaring down at him with such harsh accusation even the Needhams wondered if she were indeed serious. Tristan stared up at her, his mouth agape. All he could utter were meaningless monosyllables. Finally, Lisa let her arms drop and sat down again.
"It's okay. I was just joshing you. That's partly the reason I was out there anyway, just to mess with the overly-hormonal boys on the deck. Knowing a little doll like you was also looking is very comforting, even flattering. Thank you." She put an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. The Needhams breathed again.
"You had us going there, Lisa," said Donna. "Have you ever considered theater?"
Lisa grinned. "I've done theater. Stage, not film, although it was in Italian and German, not English."
"Wow! You speak other languages?" said Travis. "How many"
"Fluently or all of them?"
"Both," said Donna.
"Uhm," though Lisa. "Let's see. Fluently, ten. And I can get by in six others."
Donna queried, "Is that why you have that interesting accent?"
"Yes, English isn't my first language."
With wonderment in her voice, Donna continued, "What is it, then?"
"My sixth."
"My goodness. As young as you are, you must be picking up a language a year. You must do a lot of travelling."
Lisa glanced at Tristan as she laughed, saying, "I travel quite a bit."
"They know," said Tristan.
"Really?"
Tristan nodded.
"About you?"
Another nod.
"Oh, wow."
The Needhams looked at each other and then back at Lisa. "You're Immortal, too," said Travis.
With her own nod, Lisa stated, "Yes."
"So how old are you?" asked Donna. "In biological and chronological years?"
"Fifteen. And two hundred fifty-one."
Travis's gaze flickered to Tristan briefly. His index finger pointed slightly in the boy's direction as he said, "Then, based on what you described two weeks ago, does that mean what happened on the pool deck was…?"
"A Quickening," finished Tristan.
"Tristan," Lisa said with a serious tone. "Should we really tell them this?"
"Have you ever heard of Watchers, Lisa?" asked Tristan.
"Yes, I know a little about them."
"Travis and Donna are Watchers. They're new. They haven't been trained yet, but it's safe to talk to them. Officially, though, we're not doing it. If anyone else comes in the room, they're just my adopted parents. Speak freely."
"So all that destruction on the deck and the draining of the pool was the result of the Quickening?" asked Donna.
"The pool wasn't drained," clarified Tristan. "The water was evaporated by the Quickening's power. That's not all of it. Most of its force went somewhere else."
"Where?" This came from Travis.
Tristan pointed. "Into Lisa. Her dress almost caught on fire. It was smoking at the end of it all."
Lisa puffed out her cheeks and let the air out. "I thought I was on fire."
Donna leaned forward. "Why did it go into her?"
"Because I killed Goran Lambros last night. I cut off his head with a machete."
"Oh, my God," exclaimed Travis. "Why?"
"For one thing, he was about to rape me. He was cutting away my dress. Besides that, he was probably going to take my head afterward. Tristan showed up and the sensation of his presence distracted Lambros long enough for me to take his machete away from him and take his head. That's when the Quickening happened. Tristan then helped me dump his body over the railing. The part about us spending the rest of the night in my room was true." Lisa curled her fingers in her lap and stared down at them. "I'm sorry about lying about the rest of it."
Again, the Needhams looked at each other in that silent communication method of theirs. Turning back to Lisa, Donna replied, "No apology necessary. Now that we know the real story, all is forgiven."
There was a knock at the door. "Agreed," said Travis, standing. "Let's eat."
"So, I have a question," requested Tristan after the attendant had left. "I guess this would be for you, Lisa. Why was there so little blood after you killed Lambros?"
"Hardly a meal topic," countered Donna, as she portioned Caesar salad into a bowl. She offered it to Lisa.
"No, thank you." At Donna's confused raised eyebrow, Lisa added with a small grin. "The cheese. It's mixing dairy and meat in the same meal."
"Wow," replied Donna, handing the bowl to Tristan. "There are a lot of rules in your diet, aren't there?"
"There are, but you can make some incredible meals when you stick to them, also. If you give me your email address, I can recommend some great kosher restaurants in your area. None of that halal stuff, either."
"What's halal?" asked Travis.
"Halal means food that conforms to Muslim dietary rules."
"I thought they were the same. I mean Jews and Muslims both abstain from eating pork, right?"
"That's true, but there's a lot more to it. Halal in Arabic means lawful or permitted, just like haram means unlawful or not permitted. Similarly, the Hebrew word, kasher, means fit, like fit to eat. Here's the funny part, and the way to make a long story short, what is kosher is always halal, because the laws of kashrut, what makes things kosher, are stricter than - but meets all of - halal food standards. What is halal is not necessarily kosher."
"You'd think," said Donna, "that Muslims and Jews would get along better than they do, then." She smiled. "At least in restaurants."
Lisa grinned, too. "If you don't pay attention to the media, there is actually a lot of cooperation between them. Believe it or not, many of the so called Palestinians in the camps in what the reporters call the occupied territories of Israel actually cross into Israel every day, peacefully, I should add, to work, and then go back to the camps."
"Really?" asked Travis. "Why doesn't the media cover that?"
"It's contrary to their intent. They've been against Israel since it was reinstated. Have you noticed how they never say the capital is in Jerusalem, either, but Tel Aviv?" Lisa grimaced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to digress into politics."
"It's okay," said Donna. "It's the natural flow of conversation."
"Anyway, back to what you were asking, Tristan, and to rebut what you said, Donna." Lisa smirked. "I wouldn't say the question is entirely inappropriate. My boyfriend and his buddy, Darren, once had a conversation with an A&E surgeon for an hour - oh, sorry, an A&E surgeon is an accident and emergency doctor, you would say emergency room doctor, I guess. Anyway, they talked about trauma surgery for two hours over dinner one night and never blinked an eye as they ate. Tristan's question is mild compared to that."
"Well, when you put it that way, please continue," said Travis. "I suppose we'll have to learn about this eventually anyway."
"Okay, this is just my theory, but I guess it's as good as anything. The Quickening, at least what we see of it, seems to be primarily composed of electricity. I guess this makes sense since the body is a bioelectric organism."
Travis perked up. "When Tristan cut his hand, we saw little sparks of electricity jumping across his palm as it healed."
"Ah, you've seen it, then. Well, I think Immortals have significantly more bioelectricity than mortals. When an Immortal is beheaded, all of that power has to somewhere. Some of it scatters about and results in the "vandalism" you heard about on the pool deck, but the vast majority of it is attracted to a like entity, another Immortal."
Donna interrupted. "But there were two of you there. Why would it have gone to you instead of Tristan? Was it because you were closer?"
"No, I've seen things like that before, too. Even if there were many more Immortals around, the Quickening would always go to the one that took the head. Whenever I am fighting - or killing - an Immortal, I always feel this sort of bond, a kind of resonance. I think it's some kind of synching of electrical wavelengths. The Quickening then seeks out what is most similar to it when it's released, a synched wavelength. Like I said, it's just my theory.
"Back to the blood thing, and here is where my idea gets a little deep and weird. I think it has to do with molecular bonds. When the Quickening transfer first starts…"
"When the Immortal has just been killed, you mean?" asked Donna.
"Yes, when that starts, at first, there is this sort of glowing mist around the body, mostly around the neck. It starts almost as soon as the head has come off the body. I think there is so much power in the Quickening that it breaks the molecular bonds on the blood cells and reduces them down to their basic components."
"Carbon, hydrogen, iron, etcetera," added Travis.
"Exactly. There is still some blood left. That's why I had to throw away my dress and Tristan had to throw out his shirt, but there is nowhere near as much as if a mortal had been decapitated. Oh, there would have been liters of the stuff everywhere."
"Quite a lesson," said Donna, looking a little pale. "Dessert, anyone?"
"What is it?" asked Tristan.
Travis lifted the cover off the tray to reveal the dish. "Peach pie."
"Ooh, yes, please," agreed Lisa.
xxxxxxxxxx
22 July 1972
Orlando, Florida
"Well, we're here. Now what do we do?"
Penance adjusted his foot on the black pavement, his other resting on the pedal of his bike. He turned and squinted into the evening sun as he pondered his reply. His iron blue eyes glinted in the light.
Without answering, he dismounted and walked his bike over to some trees near the road. He lowered the bike onto the ground. Tristan followed him. Penance sat by his bike and slowly doffed his new backpack. He unzipped it and dug around inside.
"What's that?" asked Tristan.
Penance pulled from the pack a ratty brown piece of fluff. It was fur, probably a fine fur in its time, too, but now little more than mottled scraps of its former self. Its shape was barely recognizable: a fox's head, separated from the garment it once graced, with two mismatched plastic eyes beaming with a dead luster from carved sockets.
"This," said Penance, setting the fox head on the bike in front of him so it was facing them, "is Galabeg. Call her, uhm, the silent advisor in my head. A muse, if you will. I use her when I need to think."
"Does she help?"
"Sometimes. And other times she just pisses me off."
Tristan giggled. "So what's she saying right now?"
"That we're bloody idiots for not having a roof over our heads right now. But that doesn't help 'cause we knew we'd have that problem when we decided to come here." Penance tilted his head back, gazing at the branches above him. "This wouldn't the first time I've slept outdoors, if I had to."
"I hope we don't have to do that," said Tristan.
"Be prepared for it. There will be nights when we have no choice. And when we're hungry, too. I've spent many nights sleeping on streets and eating out of dumpsters."
"Ugh."
"It's better than not eating. You'll do all kinds of things when you get hungry enough."
"What about that Caphtor thing? Have you figured that out? Does Gawabag…?
"Galabeg."
"Galbabeg, sorry. Did she give you any ideas about that?"
"I've asked her before, but I can try again. What say you, Galabeg?" He stared into the fox's eyes for several long seconds. He shifted uncomfortably and continued staring. A moment later, his jaw went slack and his eyes darkened.
"Stupid bitch," he spat, lashing out with his foot. His shoe hit the bike's tire, the impact reverberating across the frame and causing the fox head to rock and then slip from its perch. It rolled down to rest by his other foot, its lifeless eyes glaring up at him.
"Don't look at me like that. You're the one who said it." A second later, he said in a more conciliatory tone, "Yeah, but I did kick the bike."
"What? What did she say?" Tristan wasn't sure if he was curious or frightened by what he had just seen.
She said, "The time isn't right yet."
xxxxxxxxxx
16 May 2004
The Norwegian Gem
"How did you and your boyfriend meet, Alyssa?"
"Are you sure you want to know? You're going to meet him tomorrow."
"Yeah. I'd like to know."
"My little man won't get jealous?"
Tristan giggled and rearranged himself slightly on the couch in Alyssa's cabin. He lay comfortably on his side, his head in her lap. Her right hand rested lightly on his side while the left slowly stroked his hair. A contented smile stretched across his lips.
"I promise I won't," he responded.
"Well, okay," Alyssa replied. "I'll tell you, but I'll change a few names. Some of my friends wouldn't like it if I willy nilly gave out their names. I'm sure you understand."
"Yep. No problem."
"It was a New Year's Eve party, 1929. The party had been in full swing for almost three hours. The food was abundant and the beer and spirits had flowed. Prohibition was still in effect but no one was going to question it there. While no one was paralytic, all were all decidedly merry.
"It was twenty-five minutes before twelve when Charles Ulrich, a friend of, let's call him Nathan Graham tapped him on the shoulder. "You do intend to keep with tradition, don't you?" he asked with a smile.
Graham smiled back, sharing the joke with the sort of comfort afforded to fair haired people at Hogmanay. Hogmanay, or First Footing, is a Scottish tradition. It has been held that your new year will be a prosperous one if, at the strike of midnight, a tall, dark stranger appears at your door with a lump of coal for the fire, or a cake or coin. In exchange, you offered him food, wine or a wee dram of whisky, or the traditional Het Pint, which is a combination of ale, nutmeg and whisky. If the first through your door is fair-haired, he will bring with him the fairies, or evil spirits. Very few households leave this to chance.
""Oh, yes. I definitely intend to keep with tradition." Graham turned, peering into the crowd. It took him a moment, but he finally spotted the person he wanted.
"Jeff Laramie, my boyfriend-to-be.
"Jeff, mindful of the time, had slipped to the back of the party, warily circling. He'd done it almost every year of the eight-hundred-plus that he and Nathan had been friends and he'd be damned if he'd do it this year. It was bloody cold out there!
"He watched Graham speak to Charles Ulrich, then move on to share a joke with Max Honnecker, another friend of ours.
""Isn't it a bit past your bedtime?" I asked from behind him, stealing his attention. He turned to find himself staring into my eyes.
"Jeff affected his most charming smile. "Well, this being a special night and all. I must confess, I am a bit tired though. Perhaps we – I mean I – should go for a lay down." I'm sure he was about to inquire whether I would like to join him when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Time to get your coat, Jeff," Nathan Graham told him. "He'll be back in about fifteen minutes, Lisa. After that he's all yours."
"I gave a shy smile to Graham, a seductive wink to Jeff and drifted off into the party, still within earshot.
""Aww, Nathan, do I have to? You always pick on me. Can't you get someone else to do it this year? Why can't Donald do it? He's darker than me anyway."
""Well, when we send Donald out there, he chucks the coal, loses the coin, eats the cake and the damn whiskey glass is empty before he gets anywhere close to coming through the front door.
"Jeff tried another argument. "Why not Vincent, then? He's dark. And he's tall, too. Isn't that important? I bet he's never done it. It will be an adventure for him."
"Graham shook his head. "I did try, believe me I did. But Vincent doesn't believe. And it has to be someone who believes – or we might as well not bother." Then he gave Jeff the same line he had done every Hogmanay. "You know if I could do it myself, Jeff…"
""Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know," Jeff mumbled, reaching for his coat. "But that would bring in the fairies and we wouldn't want to do that, would we?" His tone said that he didn't really care if the fairies came in and took over, as long as he didn't have to venture out into the cold.
""Hurry up, Jeff," encouraged Charles Ulrich as he passed. "It's damn near midnight."
"Jeff slipped into his coat, all the while muttering to himself. "I think you just invite me to your New Year's Party so that I can do this, Nathan," he accused as he headed for the door. "Next year, I'm dying my hair blonde, I swear I am."
"Nathan handed him a full tumbler of whiskey, a lump of coal, a piece of fruitcake and a coin. He dallied over the last item.
"It was a Roman coin, the same one they had used every New Year they had spent together. Using it was as much tradition as First Footing. It had become a good luck charm, and neither would ever consider using anything else.
""Here you go," Graham said, placing the coin in Jeff's hand. "Don't lose it."
""You say that every bloody year," Jeff retorted, heading out the door.
"I watched him standing out there, rubbing his freezing hands together. He peered in through the panel of glass beside the back door, watching the happy revelers assemble themselves for the midnight countdown. Nathan was making sure everyone's glass was full in preparation for the toasts. Vincent was quickly trying to finish off the last of the spinach dip.
"Jeff noticed me and I gave a little wave, then held up two glasses of champagne and raised an eyebrow. He nodded eagerly. If not for Nathan Graham and his wondrous Scottish tradition, Jeff was sure he would be would be ringing in the New Year with some very in-depth research into the complications of the latest of ladies dresses. But as it was, he was investigating what the maximum number of goose bumps on a body could be. He hugged himself and stamped his feet.
"Suddenly, he felt it. I could tell from his expression. The presence. It didn't exactly startle him; after all there were thirty such presences just a few short feet away from him. But this one was coming from a different direction.
"A late comer? he must have wondered. He reached inside his coat instinctively, not willing to leave it up to chance. Best to be ready, just in case.
"Whoever it was wasn't very subtle. The crashing through the trees more than heralded their arrival. I recognized him. It was Travis Kent, drunk off his ass, lurching through the last shrub and stumbling onto the lawn, sword in hand.
""There campy onion," he muttered loud enough even I heard him, squinting at the boy in front of him.
""What?" Jeff asked.
"Travis took a deep breath and tried again. "There canopy oily gun!" He took a step forward, swinging his sword. The swing was clumsy and he spun in a wild pirouette. Once started in such a movement, it was hard for him to stop. He was like a spinning top, around and around and around, his sword outstretched.
"Jeff watched, trying not to get dizzy. He thought it was Travis Kent, but the light had been bad and he wasn't sure. He watched the body spin more; whoever it was was giggling now and muttering 'Wheeeee' in a slurred voice.
"Too late, Jeff saw the steep stone steps that led down from the upper level of the garden to the lower. "Look out," he called, but it was too late.
"Travis Kent's foot stepped out from the top step and into nothing. He tried to pull himself back but it was too late. He was falling, careening wildly through the air; arms outstretched like an eagle.
"The landing was brutal. His right arm, his sword arm, hit first, at the elbow. The arm moved reflexively back – and so did the sword. Travis Kent's body landed half way down Nathan Graham's garden steps – but his head rolled all the way to the bottom.
""Oh, shit!" muttered Jeff. He must have debated diving behind the shed, but knew that it was Nathan's pride and joy and doing so would only invite the Quickening to destroy it. Instead he took a deep breath and tried to relax. I almost laughed out loud at the hopelessness in his stance.
""Five."
""Four."
""Three."
""Two."
""One."
""Happy New Year!" The crowd screamed as one, noisemakers adding to the serenade. Graham, Honnecker and Ulrich raised their glasses in a toast to the New Year. Vincent blew his noisemaker as loud as he could in Richard Mallory's ear. Mallory, who had passed out an hour earlier, snored on, oblivious.
""Hey, Nathan," someone yelled. "I didn't know you had arranged for fireworks?"
""I didn't," Graham replied.
""Well, someone's set up a hell of a display in your backyard!"
"The crowd moved to the window, oohing and aahing at the light show.
""What happened to Jeff?" Charles Ulrich asked.
""Yeah," Vincent added. "What happened to Jeff? Wasn't he supposed be the first to do something?"
"Graham looked out the window, recognizing the fireworks display for what it really was. "Oh, I think he has been," he remarked dryly.
"There was a tapping at the front door. Nathan opened it and there stood Jeff, his hair all a mess and steaming. He looked like he was about to collapse. Nathan stepped aside and invited him in with a sweeping gesture. Jeff stepped in and just stood quietly. Once the door was shut, he turned and looked up at Nathan, handing him the coin.
""This time I'm eating the cake and drinking the whiskey," he said defiantly and then did so right there. He belched loudly and handed Nathan the empty glass. He then said, "I need something more," and turned to look into the crowd. I saw his eyes scan the room until they finally fell on me. His first step stumbled, but he then began to walk toward me.
"When he reached me, he tried to grin and said, "Is that champagne offer still open? Maybe a bottle or two? Or something stronger?"
""Oh, you poor dear," I said. "A Quickening can certainly put a damper on a party, can't it?"
"He nodded, accepted the glass from me, and asked if he could take my hand. Naturally, I said yes. We went to a somewhat quieter part of the house and had those two or three bottles of champagne and a "bottle of Nathan's stronger stuff while we talked. We talked for a long time. Eventually, he recovered from how zapped the Quickening can leave you and was getting back to his usual self. Of course, he had to contend with what the alcohol was doing to him. I had to do the same, as well.
"We switched to juices and munchies after that and kept chatting. He really was a bubbly and interesting boy. Like I said, I think you and he would get along. You have a lot in common. The more we talked, the more I found myself drawn to him. He really was magnetic. Well, things progressed beyond talking from there."
"What does that mean?" asked Tristan, rolling over so he could look up at her.
Lisa laughed, turning her face to the ceiling. "Oh, my sweet little boy. We started doing other things boys and girls do when they're really into each other. Do I need to draw you a picture?"
Tristan blushed. "No. I get it." He rolled back onto his side.
Lisa continued to stroke his hair. "My dear little Tristan, I'm not a virginal little saint, you know."
"I know," said Tristan. "I'm still surprised sometimes when people are so upfront about mentioning it. That's all."
Lisa chuckled again. "You'll get over that around my boyfriend real fast then. He talks about it all the time. I guess most boys do, though."
"I don't," countered Tristan.
"Most teenage boys, I guess. I like you the way you are, Tristan. Don't ever change."
Tristan grinned. "I won't."
"So that's how we met. Are you happy now?"
The grin grew. "Yeah, I am."
"Are you jealous?" Her tone was high-pitched, comical.
Tristan giggled. "No."
"Are you sure?" She added a light tickle with her right hand for emphasis. Tristan's legs shot out as he convulsed in reaction.
"No!" he shrieked, his white teeth showing in a wide smile as he rotated onto his back to protect his side from further tickling. This, of course, just exposed his abdomen and other side, which Lisa attacked with both hands.
"I think you are."
Curling into a fetal ball as he laughed, Tristan screamed, "I'm not," but it was to no avail. The game continued until both of them were breathless.
xxxxxxxxxx
17 May 2004
Southampton, England
"Are you nervous?"
Travis's question almost didn't register with Tristan. The boy stood on the pool deck, bag over his shoulder, looking across at the port of Southampton below. His hand rested on the railing, fingers tapping in a slow rhythm only he could hear. He tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow the lump in his throat. He coughed, gagged a little. That helped.
"Yeah, I am. A lot, actually." He turned to face the Needhams. Lisa stood with them, looking at him with affectionate concern. He felt his eyes begin to mist over with...nerves...? Or was it fear? He slowly shifted his gaze to each pair of eyes in front of him before he spoke. His tongue felt heavy. So did his feet. He pointed behind him.
"When I step off this boat," he said, "and onto that soil over there, it might as well be a whole different world. You're damn right I'm nervous. More than that. I'm scared.
"I don't know what's out there. It's another country. Yeah, they speak English, but it might as well be another language. I haven't been here before, but I already know that. I don't know how things work. I don't know the right words for things. I don't even know where the people I want to find are.
"This is going to be just like when I arrive in a new city or state back in the U.S. I'm going to have to spend time just getting used to things, learn the lingo, become part of the place rather than an outsider. It's not going to be easy. It's going to be even harder because of this." He pointed to his mouth. "The moment I speak, people will know I'm from out of town. I have to lose my accent quickly or at least make it less obvious. Then I have to figure out have to move around out there, how to get where I need to be.
"To make matters worse, I don't even have my bayonet with me. I'm unarmed. If I run into another Immortal, I'm helpless. So, yeah, Travis, I'm a little nervous."
Donna looked at her husband, her own eyes welling up, as well. "I wish we could stay with him longer."
Travis put an arm around her shoulder. "Me, too."
Tristan wiped his eyes. "It's okay. Our agreement was to come this far. Once we get through customs, our deal is complete. You did what my family and I asked of you and I am so grateful for it."
Even though Donna knew the hug was coming, she gasped when it actually happened. "You've been a great mom these last two weeks, Donna. Thank you so much." He squeezed her tighter.
"And you were a great son. I wish we could have had a child like you." Their embrace lasted for almost a full minute.
"You know you're not getting out of this with a "thank you" and a handshake, Travis," Tristan teased when he was free from Donna. A playful grin spread across his lips.
"Somehow, I didn't think it would be that easy, either. Come here." Tristan practically ran into him.
"You were a great dad, Travis. And I have a great one already. Thank you for helping me."
"It was my pleasure, Tristan. Keep up with your workouts, okay?"
"I will. I promise," he said, with another squeeze.
Tristan stepped back from Travis and turned to Lisa. She held up a hand. "Wait up a minute, little man. As much as I love hugs, I have suggestion before you give me one. How about you come with me to the park just over there." She pointed across the railing. "I'm meeting my boyfriend there in a little while. After your impassioned speech, I thought he and I could show you around a bit and help ease your integration into the culture. We've both had experiences that I think might be similar to yours and maybe we could assist. What do you think?"
"Your boyfriend is an Immortal, too?"
"Yes," she nodded. "And a crafty one. You could learn a lot from him."
Tristan turned and looked out over the railing again. Below, he saw the chaos of cars on the street, people moving about their business, birds swooping up and down. Off in the direction where Lisa had pointed, he could see the green swatch of a tiny park. He looked up at the sky, following the path of a particularly cloud for a while. His eyes fell back to the park. His fingers tapped the railing. He twisted his neck to one side, then the other, and flexed his shoulders. Hopping twice on his toes, he took a deep breath and let it out. He turned and looked into the girl's emerald eyes.
"Okay, Lisa. I'll go with you."
END OF ACT I